Ghost Writer in the Sky

by Piers Anthony

  “I find this difficult to understand, let alone accept,” Emerald said. “Is there any other way to phrase it so that maybe we can better grasp it?”

  Isis manifested. “There may be a way. I felt that explanation as my host did, and I can make sense of it, though as yet I withhold my belief. I see one possible way to test it quite directly. If solid bodies are now spacious—that is, composed of space—and the air is now rocky, shouldn’t it be reversed for our spirits? So that they become solid? If so all we have to do is emerge, those of us who are residing in hosts. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Solid spirits,” Tartan said. “That’s easy to test.”

  “Then join me as a ghost.”

  “Wait!” Tara said. “Tartan and I can see, hear, and feel each other as ghosts only when our host bodies are physically touching. Maybe it works the same way with our present hosts. Let’s all touch before we emerge.”

  “That makes sense,” Isis said. “I have been in and out of my host a number of times, but have not seen any other ghosts, and I doubt they saw me.”

  “We didn’t,” Tartan said, intrigued. “So we can test that too.”

  Four of them sat on the floor at the edge of the lighted panel and held hands in a circle.

  “Woof!”

  “Princess Eve too,” Amara said, smiling.

  The dogfish settled down on their feet, which extended into the center of the circle, overlapping. Now they were five.

  Tartan drew his essence out of his host. He tried to float up, but found himself held down. He had to stand firmly on the ground.

  The others appeared, standing similarly, with Princess Eve in the center. “Well, I see you,” Isis said. “Do you see me?”

  “Can you dull it down a magnitude or two?” Tartan said. “I’m about to freak out, even though you aren’t wearing panties.”

  “Clothing does not adhere well to the spirit form,” Isis said. But her phenomenal curves fuzzed out a bit.

  “We are all naked, of course,” Eve said. She, too, was a menace to male eyes. “Best just to get used to it.”

  “We will try,” Dolin said bravely.

  “Yes we will,” Tara said firmly. She was not close to being as well endowed as the other women were, but Tartan found her just as interesting for purely personal reasons.

  “So now we know that one aspect works,” Tartan said. “We can see, hear, and presumably feel each other.” He squeezed Tara’s hand on one side, and Isis’s hand on the other. “But are we really solid, or do we just feel that way to other ghosts?”

  They let go hands and walked to the bright floor. Tartan knelt and touched it with one hand. His hand passed through it without resistance. Then he took hold of the thin edge of rock bordering the hole and broke off a piece. “I’m beginning to believe,” he said.

  The others experimented similarly. They all seemed solid.

  “Then what of our hosts?” Dolin asked.

  They returned to the five hosts, and discovered something else: three of their group were missing. There was no sign of Emerald, Mera, or Bernard. The ones who weren’t hosts to foreign spirits.

  Then Mera appeared, as pretty as a statue as in person. “I just had to see what you were up to,” she said apologetically. “So I touched the circle of you, and willed my soul aloft.”

  “It worked,” Dolin said. “We are now aware of you.”

  “And I of you. This is amazing!”

  “Check the glass floor,” Tara said. “But don’t fall in.”

  Mera went to check it, verifying that it was indeed now a hole through which she could fall if not careful. “So we are inverted.”

  “We are indeed,” Tara agreed.

  “What does this mean in terms of the Book?”

  That made them pause. “Do objects translate the way people do?” Tartan asked.

  “They must,” Tara said. “Since our clothes translated. It’s in our spirit forms we are naked.”

  “Then the Book must be here, and we can find it regardless.”

  “It occurs to me that our ghost forms might be useful in searching out the Book,” Isis said. “If local folk can’t see us.”

  “We should keep it in mind,” Tartan agreed.

  “We should rejoin the others,” Tara said.

  “We should,” Dolin agreed.

  “Woof,” Eve said, smiling.

  They returned to their hosts, who now seemed insubstantial. Each of them stepped carefully into the host and sank down inside. Soon they were back to seemingly normal.

  “We have confirmed it,” Tartan said. “Our spirits are solid. And that bright floor is a hole in the ground opening to the air and sky.”

  “I am glad to know it,” Bernard said.

  “As am I,” Emerald said.

  “I joined them,” Mera said. “It is all true.”

  “Then let’s follow Tata to the Book,” Bernard said.

  They walked across the sky hole, as it was now quite solid to their feet, and resumed walking on dark ground. Or were they? “What exactly are we walking on? Tara asked. “It can’t be rock, because we should fall through it.”

  They investigated, discovering that it was actually a dark tunnel whose air was what supported them. They were walking on top of it. It was leading upward, or, as they now knew, downward into the depths.

  In due course they came to a mountain, only in reverse. It would be a giant pit in the ground. The path wound around it, leading to its summit, on which perched a castle. Only this was no ordinary edifice; its foundation was air, and its walls, floor, and roof were evidently air too, with the interior of each chamber being solid stone.

  “Whoever built this knew what he was doing,” Bernard remarked. “Somehow crafting planks of air.”

  “And if anything fell into that pit from the normal realm,” Emerald said, “it would crash right into the foundation. That seems chancy.”

  “Goblins probably did it,” Dolin said. “They’re excellent subterranean craftsmen.”

  “And who governs it now?” Tara asked. “Maybe we should pause to investigate before just walking up and saying ‘Hi, castle minion. We’re here to take back the Book of Lost Answers.’”

  They paused. “Maybe we should turn ghosts again and look it over,” Tartan said. “Perhaps locate the Book. As ghosts we won’t be able to touch it, solid as we may otherwise be, but then we can send in someone inverted to get it.”

  They pondered and decided on a committee of five ghosts, while the others rested. This time they didn’t need Tata Dogfish, because it was Eve who knew about things inanimate, and she would be along.

  “However, we need to be sure of the rules of exploration,” Dolin said. “As ghosts we found ourselves solid, but we remained oriented as before, and the rock remained pervious. It was not a complete transition to the normal realm.”

  “Just as ghosts obey the normal rules of gravity and direction,” Tartan agreed. “They may float, but have to make an effort to leave the ground, and the ground remains down. They are merely people without much mass.”

  “Mainly, in the manner of ghosts, we were not apparent to regular folk,” Isis said. “That’s what counts.”

  “Being invisible and largely inaudible,” Tara agreed. “Apart from that, being ghosts is a disadvantage here. We don’t want to fall into that mountain space and be lost.”

  They walked carefully beside the paved path, because the paving itself was made of air that would have mired them ankle deep. They cautiously ascended the mountain to the castle door. It was closed, but they simply walked through it, because it was not solid to them.

  It was actually a small castle, essentially a one-person abode. They discovered a kitchen area with a surprisingly comely troll woman preparing a conventional meal. She took no note of them, of course, as she hummed a pri
vate tune. There was a bathroom area, a bedroom area, and a study. In the study sat a troll, the evident proprietor. His name was on a plaque on his desk: CON TROLL—BAD ACTOR.

  “Can that be coincidence?” Tartan asked, not concerned that the troll would overhear him. “A bad writer sowing mischief in Xanth proper, a bad actor maybe doing something similar in the nether realm?”

  “Each of whom has gained access to forbidden knowledge or ability,” Dolin agreed. “Which they may be prone to misuse.”

  “Let’s find that Book,” Tara said. “This situation makes me nervous.”

  They moved through the castle, literally, searching for the Book. And in due course found it in the obvious place: under the troll’s bed.

  “I think we have what we need,” Tartan said. “Let’s go back and prepare for the official visit.”

  “This certainly wasn’t as exciting as I feared,” Tara said.

  “Visits to faraway places are seldom exciting,” Isis said. “The novelty wears off swiftly, within centuries, even decades, and they become as dull as the local scene.”

  Back at the camp they returned to their hosts and reported on what they had found. “So now we can go take the book,” Tartan concluded.

  “Woof,” Tata barked disapprovingly.

  “Do you mean steal it?” Emerald asked.

  “I mean take it back. It doesn’t belong to the troll. Some of us can distract him while another takes the Book from under his bed.”

  “That still smells like stealing.”

  Bernard shook his head. “I think there is no need to steal it or to take it by force. He may simply give it to us.”

  “Woof?”

  The others looked at him. “Trolls aren’t known for generosity of outlook,” Amara said. “They are generally mountain brigands who will eat people if they get the chance.”

  “Trolls differ, like dragons,” Emerald said. “Some are nicer than others.”

  “Point made,” Dolin said. “You’re the nicest dragon I know.”

  “Out of a group of one,” she agreed, laughing.

  “Seriously, I thought most dragons were vicious predators who would as soon toast you as look at you. But knowing you has entirely changed my outlook. I would not marry you by choice, you know why, but it would be no bad bargain.”

  “There are dragons who think most human folk are vicious predators who would as soon run a sword through an innocent dragon as look at her,” Emerald said. “And that dogs are nasty foot biters.” She petted Tata. “I knew better, but my association with the group of you has amply confirmed my tolerance. I never want to lose friends like you, Dolin, and you, Monica, and you, Mera, regardless of the outcome of my mission.”

  “Woof.”

  “You too, of course, Tata.”

  “I feel the same,” Monica said. “I—I confess at first I was a bit wary of getting to know a lesbian well, of any species, let alone a dragon, but now I don’t care about that at all. You’re a great friend.”

  “I love you both,” Mera said simply.

  “Those three have become quite close during your absences,” Ted told Tartan. “As I have with Dolin. We all truly like each other.”

  “Why do you think he will give us the Book?” Tartan asked Bernard.

  “Because you said it is hidden under his bed. That means he sleeps over it. That means in turn that it spoils his dreams, and probably his food too, if he eats in bed. We have but to tell him that. He’ll be a happier troll without it.”

  A look started circling, but gave it up as a bad job and dissipated, because they agreed too rapidly.

  Tartan looked at his watch, which seemed to be working despite their inversion. “It’s late. Why don’t we break for the night and tackle the troll tomorrow?”

  This time the look didn’t even get started.

  Back in the apartment, Tartan and Tara settled their business and flopped on the bed. “Do you think we’re getting near the end?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. With luck we’re close to returning to Xanth Reality Number One. But then we still will have the Ghost Writer to deal with. That could be a long unfunny haul.”

  “And assuming we find a way to nullify the Ghost Writer, and our mission in Xanth is done, what then?”

  “You know, I half wish we could stay in Xanth, or at least have continued access to it. I’m hoping we can make that bargain in return for helping out. As long as we’re together.”

  “I’m curious,” she said. “Suppose we could be together, but limited to Mundania with our dreary jobs and all. Or that we could be in Xanth, with all its magic, but not as a couple. Which would you choose?”

  “Xanth.”

  Her face froze.

  “Then I’d court you there, and hope to win you back, so we could have both.”

  Her face thawed. “You saw that coming. You played me.”

  “What can I say? I love you both.”

  “It will do,” she said, nestling into him. Then: “That’s interesting, about how Ted and Monica have become close friends with the other members of the group. But it also makes me more curious than ever: who does Monica love romantically, and what question does Mera want to ask the Book?”

  “We can all be friends without knowing,” Tartan said. “But I agree. I am curious as hades. I hope we find out before this ends.”

  “Me too.”

  Then he stiffened, startled. “It’s here!”

  “What’s here, dear?”

  “Your rose. In your hair. As bright as always. In the heat of our, um, discussion, I never noticed.”

  She put her hand to her hair and found it. “That’s your rose, that you gave me. But how can it be here in Mundania?”

  Tartan checked his shirt. “Mine’s here too. I mean yours, that you gave me.”

  “Maybe we’re just imagining it.”

  “The way we’re imagining the whole magic land of Xanth? All right.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “No one else can see them anyway, so there’s no problem.”

  In the morning they girded themselves and returned to the inversion cavern.

  “Woof!” Tata greeted them. He was always the first to recognize them, though there was no physical change in the hosts.

  “Anything happen we should know about?” Tartan asked, half hoping that one of their two private questions had been answered.

  “We agreed to give the troll a fair hearing,” Dolin said. “As Emerald says, dragons and trolls aren’t all alike.”

  They set off for the castle, this time stepping firmly on the air tiles. They reached the front door and knocked.

  The fair troll lady opened it. “Oh,” she said, exactly like a human girl. “Are you looking for Con Troll?”

  “We are,” Dolin said. “It’s about a book.”

  “That horrible Book of Lost Answers? I hate it.”

  “It spoils your food,” Mera said wisely.

  “And that’s not all,” the girl agreed. “Con hasn’t been the same since he found it. I wish he would get rid of it.”

  So the troll hadn’t stolen the Book. Neither had he bought it from a book seller. He had simply found it, so it was his, by his reckoning. Sitting on the book cellar step as if forgotten or lost.

  “Allow us to introduce ourselves,” Dolin said as they settled into the guest hall, and called off the names of their party. “That Book was lost by the wives of the Good Magician Humfrey. We hope to return it to them.”

  “I am Trudy Troll, housekeeper and aspiring actress. I certainly hope you take that Book far away from here.”

  “We do hope to,” Tartan said. “But first we should talk to Con about it.”

  “I will fetch him.”

  In a generous two and a half moments the troll joined them. “What’s this about the Book?�
�� he demanded truculently, which was the normal mode for trolls.

  “That book belongs to the wives of the Good Magician Humfrey,” Prince Dolin said. “We have come to take it back.”

  “It won’t do you or them any good,” Con said con-trarily.

  “How so?”

  “It has no index, the answers are not listed alphabetically or numerically, and they change randomly. It will answer only one question a day, and that answer is wrong. The thing is useless.”

  “What do you ask it?” Dolin asked.

  “All I want to know is how to become a good actor, so I can make my fame indulging my passion. Instead I get answers such as how to achieve lasting world peace, how to cure cancer, how to escape the comic strip, how to find the perfect human princess to marry, how a lesbian can make a great deal, and how to nullify ghost writing. None of them relate to me!”

  Dolin’s jaw fell so far his teeth were in danger of falling out. He was not the only one. Some of those answers were ones they were looking for! Isis wanted to escape the comic strip, Dolin wanted to find the right princess to marry, Emerald wanted to secure peace without having to marry a human prince, and they all wanted to nullify the Ghost Writer. All those answers wasted on the troll.

  Worse, they were obliged not to use the Book for any of those questions. They had agreed to seek only the key maps to the alternate realities. Plus whatever question Mera had.

  “They mentioned wicked temptation,” Tara murmured.

  Tartan stepped in. “It seems that the Book has the correct answers, but they are lost within its scattered pages. It may be drawing randomly from the answers to prior questions.” He made a quarter pause, realizing that they had not yet had the chance to ask any of their questions, not that they were going to. “Or future questions. Or maybe just wished questions. Your answer may turn up in response to another person’s question.”