Luck of the Draw (Xanth)

by Piers Anthony

  “A horse? Or do you mean the Mayor?”

  “Yes.”

  Bryce was silent, realizing that he was missing something.

  Mindy went to the central stall. There was a female horse. Mindy talked, and the horse whinnied. Mindy returned. “There is a complication.”

  “I should think so,” Bryce said wryly.

  “We are welcome to stay the night, but the Mare has a favor to ask. It seems they have a problem they don’t know how to handle, so they are hoping we have an idea.”

  “Why not? I’m happy to return a favor for a favor.”

  “It’s not that easy. Maybe we should not stay here.”

  “Now I’m really confused. You talk with a horse to get us a room, and now you don’t want to?”

  “Here’s the situation,” she said, not smiling. “People have been mysteriously dying. They know who has a motive, but he’s never involved when it happens, so they’re helpless.”

  “Motive is not necessarily murder,” Bryce said. “Maybe a friend of his is doing it.”

  “He has no friends here.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A young man named Brant.”

  “Well, let’s go talk with him, for a start.”

  “I don’t think that would be wise.”

  Mindy was normally very accommodating. Why was she getting negative now? “Why not?”

  “Because if we annoy him in any way, we could be the next to die.”

  Now it was coming clear. “And just asking about the folk who have died could annoy him, especially if he’s guilty.”

  “That’s it,” she agreed grimly.

  “This smacks of a Demon impediment.”

  “It does.”

  “Which means we won’t be able to avoid it by riding on.”

  “Oh! I didn’t think of that.”

  “Let’s get more detail on exactly who has died, and how.”

  Mindy talked with the Mare again, and returned with more information.

  “There was a girl Brant liked, but she liked another boy better. A few days later that other boy drowned. He was an excellent swimmer, and his friends don’t understand how it could have happened. The girl was grief-stricken and refused to see any other boy. In another week she died in an unusual accident. A halfway-friendly neighborhood dragon had been toasting nuts, and a stray jet of flame happened to burn her as she walked past. The dragon hadn’t meant to do it; it was a fluke. Then another boy accused Brant of somehow arranging it. A week later that boy died when a passing roc bird came in for a landing, didn’t see him, and sat on him. Again, it was a friendly roc, coming in for a routine package delivery. Another weird accident.”

  “I see the pattern,” Bryce said. “It’s as if Brant wishes them evil, and it happens.”

  “Exactly. Can you figure out a way to prove it or stop it?”

  “Maybe. It always seems to be several days before affront becomes vengeance. What does Brant do in the interim?”

  “Nothing. In fact he sleeps.”

  “Sleeps?”

  “A lot, day and night. Then someone dies.”

  “In Mundania this would be sheer coincidence. But here in Xanth, it could be magic. Could he be sending them bad dreams, so that they are distracted and become dangerously careless?”

  “Only the Night Stallion can do that.”

  “The what?”

  “The Night Stallion runs the dream realm. They make bad dreams for bad people to experience, and the night mares deliver them to deserving folk. It’s an inducement to be good.”

  “The Night Stallion. He knows about all dreams?”

  “All bad ones, yes. The Day Stallion supervises nice daydreams for day mares to deliver.”

  “Then we should go see the Night Stallion to ascertain what he knows about this.”

  “We can’t do that! He’s in the dream realm!”

  “Ah, but isn’t there an access via the peephole gourd?”

  She nodded. “That’s right. You did encounter a gourd when we were hunting puns. But entering one has its own dangers.”

  “Not worse than what we have been facing on this Quest, I think.”

  She nodded. “You have a point.”

  She went to the Mare again. Soon they were ensconced in a nice room, with two fresh gourds. A villager was instructed to check on them, and to break their eye contact in an hour so that they did not get trapped in the dream realm.

  They sat opposite each other at a table, in couch chairs that held their bodies firmly in place. “We must hold hands as we enter, so that we will find ourselves in the same spot in the dream realm,” Mindy said.

  “You find ways to kiss and hold hands.”

  She blushed. “I do,” she confessed. “But this is legitimate.”

  He was sorry. “I didn’t mean to tease you. I—I like doing it with you.” He condemned himself for his youthful-body reactions. She had become more physically attractive, and he was noticing. He took her hands on the table, outside the gourds. “What’s next?”

  “We’ll encounter the standard dream setting for newcomers,” Mindy explained. “This is a haunted house, stocked with ghosts and spooks. Beyond it is a graveyard with zombies and walking skeletons. Scary things.”

  “Like Picka Bone?”

  “Yes. His parents were from the dream realm. They aren’t bad folk at all, merely different.”

  “I understand. It’s been about seventy years since Halloween spooks actually scared me.”

  “Then look into the peephole the same time I do.”

  “So we’ll remain together,” he agreed.

  They looked. The room was gone. They stood before a badly maintained house in a wretched yard. A full moon hung low overhead, looking moldy. It was surely made of old green cheese.

  “This is it,” Mindy said. “We don’t need to hold hands here; our real bodies are doing that.” She disengaged.

  “Let’s bypass the spook house and go directly to the graveyard.”

  “Can’t. This setting is preprogrammed. We have to enter.”

  “Let me try something else, then.” He brought out his pen and pad, which he did have with him. He sketched a folded map marked HAUNTED HOUSE. He activated it, and the map slid off the paper into his hand.

  “You’re getting good with that magic pen.”

  “The princess gave it to me, remember. It’s a really nice instrument.” He unfolded the map. There was a complete display of the interior of the haunted house, hall by creaky hall and room by gloomy room. Sure enough, there was a shortcut to the rear.

  “But you are using it in ways the princess probably never thought of.”

  “I think that’s why she gave it to me. She thought I could make better use of it than she could.” He studied the map, then folded it and put it in his pocket. “Onward.”

  They went to the door and Bryce lifted the huge old corroded knocker and let it fall. “OoOOga!” sounded within the house.

  “And maybe a horn would blow a knocking sound,” Bryce said, smiling.

  The door opened. No one was there, just an empty pair of shoes and an empty pair of gloves. The gloves were moving the door.

  “Thank you,” Bryce said. “Fine setting you have here.” One glove made a little wave of acknowledgment, and the shoes stepped aside.

  They entered the house. The floorboards creaked alarmingly.

  “The shortcut is an immediate turn to the left,” Bryce said. “Through the original maid’s quarters.”

  They turned left. A ghost loomed up before them, a bright white sheet with black eye-holes. That might be the original maid.

  “BOO!!” Bryce shouted with doubled exclamation point.

  Original Ghost Maid was so surprised she zoomed upward and right through the ceiling, leaving only a cloth dropping to the floor. The cloth was ghostly but peculiarly fascinating.

  “You beast,” Mindy said. “You scared her right out of her panties.” She stooped to pick them up. They were fil
my to the point of nonexistence, but nevertheless intriguing. Bryce had never quite fathomed panty magic, but certainly it worked. “We’re sorry,” she called. “He’s from Mundania. He doesn’t know proper protocol.”

  The ghost floated back down through the ceiling. She took the panties from Mindy’s lifted hand, her white sheet blushing faintly pink. She faded away.

  “Now are you going to stop freaking out the staff?” Mindy asked, suppressing the ghost of a smile. “They’re only trying to do their job.”

  “This way.” He proceeded through the maid’s quarters and out a side door. A short walk led to the graveyard in the back.

  There was a walking skeleton, evidently on sentry duty. It looked male, because it was missing a rib. Bryce walked up to him. “Picka Bone sent me.”

  “Who?” the skeleton asked, startled.

  “The son of Marrow Bones and Grace’l Ossein,” Mindy said.

  The skeleton’s skull illuminated. “We know them,” he said. “How are they doing in the mortal world?”

  “We’ll tell you all about them,” Bryce said. “While you are guiding us to the Night Stallion.”

  The skeleton considered. “We can’t make a deal until we know each other. Who are you?”

  “I am Bryce, and this is Mindy. We’re from Mundania.”

  “I am White Skeleton. Red Skeleton is my cousin.”

  “He was a fine humorous fellow,” Bryce said, impressed.

  “You knew him in Mundania?” Mindy asked.

  “Knew of him, or his non-pun analog.”

  “This way.” White led the way out of the graveyard and through another setting where a camera crew was recording a bad dream. A pack of werewolves was chasing a terrified nymph into a treacherous bog. “Eeee!” she cried. Bryce noticed how her bare nymphly parts bobbed and jiggled enticingly as she ran. Being physically young again was a nuisance when he was trying to get something done; he was too readily distracted.

  “Halt,” the director said, disgusted. “The term is ‘Eeeee!’ Five E’s, not four. Now try it again.”

  They ran it again. The nymph was just as enticing the second time, and breathing harder. “Eeeeee!”

  “Halt! Five E’s, not six. Try to get it right this time.”

  “Nymphs are stupid,” White muttered as they moved on. “They can’t count beyond their chest.”

  “Chest?” Bryce asked.

  “Two,” Mindy snapped.

  Oh. Maybe that was one reason they ran bare. With clothing they would be limited to counting to one. Not that intelligence was the point of a nymph.

  While they walked, Mindy filled in the illustrious history of Marrow and Grace’l Bones in mortal Xanth. It was quite a story. Bryce had not realized that Picka Bone derived from such a remarkable lineage. No wonder Princess Dawn had courted him.

  Meanwhile White Skeleton was leading them into an abysmal swamp that was surely fraught with all manner of horrors. Bryce saw bubbling pools of green goo, and tree trunks with huge gnarly eyes, and floating wisps of discolored mists that looked corrosive or poisonous. This would not be a good place to get lost in. The path was so devious that it would be a chore just to locate it for a retreat.

  They came to an elegant stall standing on a firm islandlike mound. Within it stood a magnificent dark horse who wasn’t exactly black. “That will do, White,” the horse said. “I will take it from here.” Then as the skeleton respectfully backed off, the horse oriented on the two of them. He looked surprised by Mindy. “What are you doing here—”

  “Mindy,” Mindy said quickly. “A servant employed at Caprice Castle. And this is Bryce Mundane. He is a Suitor for the Princess Harmony in a Quest arranged by the Demons.”

  “I see,” the horse said, as if reconsidering. Bryce suspected that he was not ordinarily very tolerant of intruders in his realm, but that the mention of the Demon Quest set him back. He turned to Bryce. “I am the Night Stallion, otherwise known as Trojan, the Dark Horse, or the Horse of a Different Color. I run the Realm of Dreams. What is your business here?”

  “One moment,” Bryce said.

  Mindy sent him a warning glance. “You don’t make the Night Stallion wait,” she murmured.

  “Why not? He’s making us wait.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This isn’t the Night Stallion,” Bryce said. “This is a fake, set up to distract us from our mission.”

  “How can you say that? He looks perfectly real to me.” She glanced at the horse, who was standing perfectly still, as was the skeleton. It was like a cartoon where the only animated characters were the ones who were speaking at the moment.

  “Appearances are easy to come by in the dream realm, since everything here is imaginary,” Bryce said. “It’s a mistake to judge solely by looks.”

  “But what else is there?”

  “His actions.”

  “But all he did was introduce himself and ask your business.”

  “Precisely. The real Stallion surely knows the dreams of every mortal person, and therefore our business here. He wouldn’t need to ask.”

  “That’s right,” she agreed thoughtfully. “But why would he let the skeleton lead us into a nasty swamp?”

  “Because while he knows everything that goes on in the dream realm, it surely keeps him quite busy. He can’t afford to have every Tom, Dick, and Harry wandering in and taking his time with inconsequentials. So he diverts them harmlessly, and most never know the difference. But our business is serious. We can’t afford to be put off by the standard diversion. We need the Stallion’s personal attention.”

  Mindy nodded. “We do. But if we can’t trust the skeleton to lead us to the Stallion, what can we do? We’ll never find him in the infinite reaches of the dream realm.”

  “I suspect he has been tracking us fairly closely,” Bryce said. “Because he evidently recognized you as a person of importance.”

  “Me?”

  “The fake did a double-take when he looked directly at you. He must have been advised. Maybe there’s a Demon aura about our mission. So the Stallion knows who we are, but doesn’t care to shortcut regular policy, which would be a bad precedent. Demon mission or not, we could still be wasting his time. We need to spot him ourselves.”

  “How can we do that?”

  “By common sense.” Bryce turned to White Skeleton. “Hello, Trojan.”

  The skeleton became the horse. “You are one dangerously smart Mundane.”

  “No, I’ve just been around the bend a few times.”

  “Indeed.” The horse’s mouth curved with a trace of amusement. “I do know what’s going on in the dream realm. But your concern stems from the mortal realm, not the dream realm. It will be more efficient if you simply state it now.”

  “Gladly,” Bryce agreed. “The Demons seem to have put certain obstacles in our way as we seek certain objects. We have to handle them before we can move on. In this case, the village of Kiss Mee has been suffering an unfriendly situation, wherein a young man may be dreaming up odd ways for folk he dislikes to die. I thought I should check with you, because if my conjecture is correct, this is an abusive misuse of dreams.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Brant. He sleeps a lot, and is never close when a person dies. Maybe his talent is to make a dream come true, once he dreams it.”

  Trojan flickered in the manner the demon Pose had when zipping momentarily elsewhere. “I have verified it. His power is the Deathwish. You are correct: when he dreams up a death, he can then make it happen. It is limited to dreaming; he can’t simply wish a person dead. This is indeed an abuse. What do you recommend that I do?”

  “I would not presume to tell you what to do in your own realm.”

  The equine mouth formed a tolerant smile. “You have a certain diplomatic touch, doubtless acquired in the course of your many years of experience in drear Mundania. I have now picked up on the Demon contest. The Suitors must figure out the answers themselves. So you need
to make a feasible suggestion.”

  Just so. “I think the simplest way to deal with it is to cut off Brant’s dreams. That way he will not be able to make them come true. Do you have the power to withhold bad dreams as well as to make them?”

  “I do,” Trojan said. “So be it.” He glanced at Mindy. “I believe the princess has chosen well.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Mindy said. “Bryce still must win the last Object, and there is a prediction that he will not succeed.”

  “That failure would eliminate him as a Suitor?”

  “We understand that the princess will choose the man who brings her the best gift,” Bryce explained. “If I don’t win the Object I won’t have a gift to proffer.”

  “She may indeed choose,” the Dark Horse agreed. “But she’s a sly one. She might seek to change the rules.”

  “Even when Demons make the rules?” Mindy asked.

  “Rules are subject to interpretation.” The Horse shrugged, throwing off iridescent colors. “All the current generation of princesses are headstrong and naughty, some amazingly so. Princess Eve married the lesser Demon Pluto and is making his existence wax hot and cold despite his power. Princess Rhythm did serious damage to the Adult Conspiracy. There are still dreams relating to that mischief.” He shook his head. “Princess Harmony is the smartest and most strongly motivated. That makes her devious. Even Demons may discover that.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Mindy said.

  “Naturally not,” the Horse agreed, amused.

  Trojan evidently had some private joke. Maybe it was because his control of dreams led him to secrets others could not share. Yet he judged Harmony as the smartest of her generation of princesses? He thought she was devious? She had not struck Bryce that way during their interview. She had seemed like a nice girl despite her royalty. Still, it was curious that the Demons had selected her as the center of their contest. Did they see in her something Bryce had missed?

  But his mind was wandering. “Thank you, Trojan Horse,” he said. “This will enable me to at least try for my Object.”

  “There is one other thing. I have cut off all future dreams, but he has one remaining from before. Dragons catch a girl and tear her apart.”

  Mindy shuddered. “Poor girl!”