Ghost Writer in the Sky

by Piers Anthony

  “Did you check your right thing sense, prince?” Tara inquired worriedly.

  “Yes. We should be fine.”

  The monster’s eye fixed on Amara as one of the tastier morsels. A huge tongue slurped around the mouth. Then the head advanced.

  “Tata, do your thing,” Amara murmured.

  “GROUFF!” the dogfish barked so fiercely that all of them jumped. His faceplate showed a frowny face.

  The sea monster rocked back, amazed. Tata followed, swimming out of the boat up through the air toward the head. “RUFF RUFF RUFF GROUFF!”

  The monster hastily sank back under the surface. It didn’t know that the dog’s bark was worse than its byte.

  But the commotion had attracted other predators. Two small winged dragons converged on the boat. One puffed fire, the other smoke.

  “I don’t much care to be either fired or smoked,” Tara said.

  “My turn,” Emerald said. She stood, efficiently peeling off her clothing, revealing her fine body. Tartan looked away, partly to avoid freaking and partly to avoid Tara’s glare if he did. She didn’t want him embarrassing himself or Emerald. Then the princess leaped and converted to her dragon form, spreading her wings and heaving up into the air.

  “I saw your legs!” Dolin called after her. “And that’s not all!”

  Tata woofed appreciation.

  Emerald turned her head to snort a small jet of flame toward Dolin. Had she really been annoyed it could have been a big jet. Then she oriented on the two hovering dragons. There was a brief exchange of growls. After that the two turned about and flew away.

  Emerald flew to the far beach, landed, and transformed back to human form. They paddled toward her. There were no further disturbances.

  “What forms!” Ted said to Tartan.

  “Which form? Human or dragon?”

  “Both. She’s one luscious human creature I’d gladly embrace if I didn’t know she’d turn to the other and toast me.”

  Tartan had to agree. Both Emerald’s forms were superlative. It was a shame she had no interest in appreciative males.

  “Oh, stop it,” Tara snapped. “All three of you.” She knew that Tartan and Ted were comparing notes, and that Dolin had thoughts.

  “Can’t a girl change without getting ogled?” Amara asked.

  “She’s beautiful, both forms,” Dolin said.

  “She is,” Mera agreed. Actually Mera herself was just as sightly, but she never showed her body the way Emerald did. She was, after all, somebody’s aunt.

  They reached the shore. Dolin stepped out and handed Emerald her clothing, which she donned without embarrassment. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say thank you for your display,” Dolin said.

  “My what?”

  “Your display of ferocity that scared away the other dragons,” Mera said quickly.

  “No ferocity there. I merely addressed them in dragon talk and they agreed to leave you folk alone. It’s the Winged Monster Convention, which has existed for millennia: we do not interfere in each other’s business.”

  “They thought we were your captive prey?” Amara asked.

  “Why else would any of you be watching me? You’re nervous about which one I’ll eat first.”

  Dolin laughed, swept her into his embrace, and kissed her. She did not resist; in fact she kissed him back. They truly got along. It was an interesting friendship.

  “How will the boat get back to its harbor on the other side?” Tartan asked.

  “Either someone will cross from this side,” Mera said. “Or someone will whistle from the other side. Then it will go there on its own. We use it all the time.”

  Tata sniffed out the proper path, and they forged back into the jungle. “Do you think it’s far?” Amara asked. “I wouldn’t like to be caught out here at night.”

  “Woof!” Tata called back.

  “Oh, that’s a relief.” She turned to the others. “Not far at all. Just difficult.”

  The path petered out, facing them with dense and thorny foliage. “Now what?” Tara asked.

  Tata pointed with his nose at the densest patch. “Woof!”

  “Oh?” Amara asked, surprised. “Are you sure?”

  “Woof!”

  “All right.” She strode directly into the thorn patch.

  And through it, unimpeded. It was illusion!

  They followed her through a wicked looking tangle. The path resumed on the other side. But soon it led to a crevasse.

  “Uh-oh,” Mera said. “This would be an offshoot of the dread—well, I forget what it is, but it’s awful.”

  “The Gap Chasm,” Amara said. “The forget spell finally wore off it so we moderns can remember, but it must be fresh here in the past.”

  They stood and gazed down into the crevice. It was too wide to jump across, and so deep that there was only darkness below.

  Tata sniffed along the edge. “Woof!” Then he walked out into the gulf.

  The others stared. The dog was suspended in the air just above the pit. He was not in danger, because he could swim through the air, but at the moment he was simply standing.

  “Oh, it’s an invisible bridge,” Mera said. “I forgot about that too.”

  “It was one potent forget spell,” Amara said.

  “Is it safe?” Tara asked dubiously.

  “Yes and no,” Mera said. “It is structurally secure. We can safely cross, physically. If we want to.”

  “Why wouldn’t we want to, if this is the way to where we’re going?”

  “The ogles.”

  “Eagles?”

  “No, ogles.”

  “Ogres?”

  Mera sighed. “I think I will have to demonstrate.” She stepped out onto the invisible bridge.

  Nothing happened, for an instant. But by the time it filled out to a full moment, there was a gust of wind that tugged her skirt up, showing her very nice legs. She put her hands down to stop it. So far, so good.

  Then a swarm of flying creatures zoomed along within the chasm. They were small, but had huge bulging eyes. “Oh, lookee lookee lookee!” they chortled. “Peek peek peek!”

  Mera quickly stepped off the bridge so that there was no longer a view under her skirt. The birds fluttered away, disappointed.

  “Ogles,” Amara agreed.

  “In Mundania there would be no problem,” Tartan said. “Most of the girls wear jeans.”

  “This isn’t Mundania,” Amara said sharply.

  Meanwhile Tata was sniffing a bit back from the crevice. “Woof!”

  “Oh, my,” Amara said. “That will do it.” She walked to the dog, squatted, and scooped up two handfuls of dry dirt. Then she walked back to the bridge, and onto it.

  Immediately the ogles swarmed in again. “Peek peek peek!”

  Amara let them get close under her. Then she hurled a handful of dirt down into their midst. “Oooo!” they chorused, spinning out of control, blinded.

  Amara smiled smugly. She walked on across the gulf. Whenever an ogle came close, she raised her other hand, the one that still held dirt, in a threatening gesture. The ogle retreated.

  “Well, now,” Tara said. She scooped up her own dirt and went to the bridge. Then Mera, and Emerald. And finally the two men and the dog, needing no dirt. They were across.

  “And I thought that throwing dirt was only a political device,” Tartan remarked. The Xanthians looked at him blankly.

  There was a puddle of water. They took turns washing their hands in it.

  Tata took the lead again. He rounded a corner and woofed.

  There was a boy of about fourteen. “Hello, dogfish,” he said.

  The others caught up. “Who are you?” Amara asked.

  “I’m Eleph. Who are you?”

  “I’m Amara. My talent is knowin
g where something will be. What’s yours?”

  “Making pigs fly.”

  Tartan choked back a laugh.

  “That’s interesting,” Amara said. “Can you demonstrate?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t find any more pigs. They avoid me.”

  “That is a problem,” Amara agreed. “Maybe I can help you.”

  Eleph was interested. “You can?”

  “I happen to know that there’s a herd of pigs soon to be in the vicinity of the Sorceress Tapis’ mansion. If you go there you’ll find them. Maybe if you agree to do chores, the Sorceress will let you stay there a while.”

  “I’ll do it!” Eleph said joyfully. He jumped up and ran down the path they had come on.

  “What was the point of that?” Mera asked.

  “Electra needs help with the chores. He seems like a nice boy. It may be fun for them watching the pigs fly. Maybe there’s a future there for them both.”

  Mera nodded. “Good points. They should get along.”

  Tartan was impressed. Amara had just used her talent to do Electra some good. The aromantic woman might even have fostered a future romance. Evidently she didn’t hate romance, merely did not feel the need of it for herself.

  They walked on. Now they came to an ogre’s den, and the ogre was outside it, twice the height of a man and broad in proportion, squeezing juice from small stones. There was no way to avoid him. Ogres, Ted informed him, were known to be the strongest and ugliest creatures of Xanth, and they were justifiably proud of their stupidity. There would be no reasoning with this one.

  “This may be a job for my other form,” Emerald said grimly.

  “Beware,” Mera said. “One of the ogre’s businesses is teaching small dragons the meaning of fear. I understand they are quite good at it.”

  “I will handle it,” Isis said, manifesting. “This is part of my deal with Amara: she provides the host, I provide the social expertise.”

  “But that’s an ogre!” Mera said. “They don’t understand social.”

  “I don’t work through understanding,” the Goddess said, striding forward.

  The ogre looked up as she approached. “Me see gee she,” he said, surprised.

  “That’s a compliment,” Mera said, surprised in turn.

  “Come down to my level, big boy,” Isis said. “So I can whisper in your cauliflower ear.”

  The ogre didn’t try to think about it. They could tell, because his head was not heating and the fleas were not jumping off. He simply sat down on the ground with a thunk that cracked the earth around him. “Me Handee. Who you be?”

  “Come off the idiot doggerel, Handee. I am no ordinary dull woman. I am a Goddess. Speak to me in real talk.”

  “Oh, you know,” the ogre said, taken aback. “What can I do for you, Goddess?”

  Tartan was amazed, and saw that the others were too. The ogre could talk normally!

  “It’s what I can do for you,” Isis said. “My kiss, should I choose to bestow it, will lock you in bliss for five moments and an instant or two.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Handee agreed. “But at what price?”

  “My party needs to pass by you to reach the Timeline.”

  The ogre squinted at her with something other than stupidity. “What do you know about the Timeline?”

  “We need to get to it so we can return to our own time, far away in the future. You are clearly here to guard it from intruders like us.”

  “No. I will not let you pass. Not even for a kiss.”

  Now Isis squinted at Handee. “So you want to bargain, male thing? How about two kisses? The second will put you in bliss until day’s end.”

  Handee made a smile that wilted the adjacent foliage. “That’s more like it, you fascinating female.”

  “Brace yourself. Here it comes.” The Goddess stepped into the ogre and kissed him firmly on the gaping mouth. Small sparks flew out, as if there were an electrical charge. Handee froze in place, an expression of idiotic bliss on his dull features.

  “And the second,” Isis said. She kissed him again, more firmly. This time his hair lifted from his head as the current was discharged into the air, and small jags of lightning spiked from his fingers into the ground. His expression was set like solidified magma. Blissful rock.

  The Goddess backed off and turned around. “Pass,” she said. “He won’t bother you.” She faded. Amara was back, a pretty girl, but hardly the shadow of the Goddess.

  Hesitantly the others edged past the frozen ogre. He never moved. He was indeed locked in bliss.

  “She did all that with your body,” Tara said to Amara. “With only two kisses.”

  “My body and her spirit,” Amara said. “I could never duplicate it, even if I wanted to. But she’s right: it is useful on occasion.”

  “If she kissed me like that, I’d be locked into love with her,” Dolin said, awed.

  “She does have some conscience,” Amara said. “Also, she doesn’t want you. She wants to get rid of the Ghost Writer, and probably needs this party’s help to accomplish that, since it is your mission. So she’ll leave you alone.”

  “I am glad to know that.”

  There was a brief shower, containing just water, no dogs or cats. Then the sun came out again, and there before them was a rainbow, the top band neatly tied in a loop. They were at the near end.

  Mera laughed. “It got confused! Rainbows are supposed to be unapproachable, with a treasure at the far end.”

  “Curious,” Dolin agreed. “What’s this?”

  They looked. Right at the end, where it touched the ground, was a little patch of colorful plants. They did not bear fruits, but fancy glasses of sherbet with colored fruit juices. They looked delicious.

  Amara glanced at Tata as he sniffed the glasses. “Safe to drink?”

  “Woof.”

  They served themselves to the refreshment. Tartan’s was wonderful, and he could see that the others were too.

  “That was excellent,” Dolin said.

  Emerald laughed. “You should see your tongue! It’s rainbow colored.”

  “So is yours,” he replied.

  It turned out that all of their tongues now sported rainbow hues. “No wonder it was easy to get,” Amara said. “The rainbow was having its little joke on us.”

  “Call it a new fashion,” Mera said, examining her own tongue with a compact mirror she produced from somewhere.

  “That wets my appetite,” Dolin said.

  “Whets, dear,” Emerald said. As usual in Xanth, spellings were visible.

  “Let’s take a lunch break,” Mera said. “We don’t know how hectic it may get this afternoon.”

  “We’ll rejoin you soon,” Tartan said. He took Tara’s hand and they jumped home.

  “She called him dear!” she said as she scrambled off the bed in chase of a function.

  “They’re friends.”

  “I wonder. Can a lesbian fall for a particular man?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I think they’re just teasing the rest of us. Putting on an act.”

  “Emerald and Mera are becoming friends,” she said. “They seem to be finding common interests.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Well, you’re an ignorant man.”

  They quickly snacked, brushed their teeth, and returned to their hosts in Xanth. “What, no storks?” Ted asked.

  “Didn’t think of it in time.”

  “And you call yourself a man?”

  “An ignorant one,” Tartan agreed with a mental smile.

  Meanwhile the others had finished their snack. It was time to resume motion. They walked on. They came to a small mountain rising from the jungle as if someone had set it down there. The near base of it was a sheer ve
rtical cliff. Three nude women were braced against the cliff. Their upper portions were unremarkable, but their lower portions were remarkably well formed, and their rear views were surely architectural in their grandeur. What were they doing?

  A man stepped out to intercept their party. “May I help you?” he inquired politely. “I’m Patrick Joseph Stapleberg, and this is my assignment.”

  “We’re not sure,” Dolin said, forcing his eyes from the statuesque maidens. “I’m Prince Dolin, with several companions. And a dog. We’re looking for the Timeline.”

  “The what?”

  “The Timeline of Xanth. It lists all the significant events so that the Muse of History can keep track of things when she writes her histories.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m from Mundania. That must be a detail I haven’t yet picked up on.”

  “What are you doing here?” Mera asked.

  Patrick looked at her, evidently appreciating her loveliness. Tartan realized that it was true what was said about men: they judged a woman by her appearance and not much else. “I am entertaining these three Flying Buttresses while they hold up this wall, so they don’t get too bored. Otherwise they will resume their flight in the sky, and the wall will collapse. The Muse of History asked me to see to the support of this section, so I am doing it.”

  Dolin nodded. “The Muse of History. That means we are in the right place, though I can’t say I understand how such shapely girls relate to the Timeline.” He glanced around. “What is that?” He indicated a large fruit sitting on a table.

  “That’s my magic apple,” Patrick said. “The Muse gave it to me. In Mundania I was a graphic artist, so she got me the tool to use my talent here.” He walked to the big apple and touched it with one finger. A lovely splotch of color appeared. He gestured, and the splotch formed into a still life scene. The three buttresses focused on that, smiling. Buttresses were not known to have much mind, but evidently these ones liked the art.

  “I see,” Dolin said. “They do like your pictures.” He glanced back at the others. “Tata led us here, and this area does feel right, but I think we have not yet found what we seek.”

  “True,” Mera said. “We should not bother these good people further.”

  Tata made a Bark. “Grouff!!”