Isle of View

by Piers Anthony

  "Grundy, you must have a notion," she said. "You've talked with creatures all over Xanth. What's the most sickeningly sweet story you ever heard?"

  "That was your courtship of Cheiron Centaur," he said promptly.

  She refrained from flicking him hard with her tail. They were not as heavy here on the moon, for some magical reason, and she was afraid that if she made him lighter he would fly into the air, and she would have to take off after him, and Fracto would get them both. That wasn't worth the effort, especially since it was now getting dark and it would be hard to see their way. Anyway, it was probably his notion of a compliment.

  "Aside from that," she said.

  "Probably the tale of the Princess and the dragon," he said. "The bird that told me that one swore he had seen it happen himself, but I'm not sure."

  "Why not?" she asked innocently.

  "Because he was a lyrebird."

  This time she did flick him. Fortunately he hung on to her mane, and did not fly off into Fracto's waiting storm.

  "Tell me the tale," she said grimly. She knew that she could not afford to be overly choosy at this point.

  "There was a lovely Princess who met a strange handsome foreign Prince," he began. She listened attentively, until the conclusion. "And so they lived happily ever after."

  "I think you're right," she said at the end. "That's so nice a tale it will drive Fracto right up the wall and into distraction. But we'll have to fit him into it, so that he identifies."

  "But he'll just rain on it!" the golem protested.

  "No, the beauty of a dream is that a person has to dream it its way, not his own way. Otherwise no one would even tolerate a bad dream. He will be there, but unable to rain on the proceedings."

  Grundy nodded appreciatively. "You have a diseased mind."

  "Thank you. Now we must rehearse our parts, so that when the Night Stallion gets his act together, we are ready to animate the dream. I will take the female parts, and you the male parts. Remember, don't overact; what we want is verisimilitude."

  "What?"

  "Plausibility. I thought you knew all words in all languages."

  "I do. I wasn't sure you did."

  Again she refrained from flicking him. All centaurs had competent vocabulary, as he knew. "Perhaps you confused me with a certain demoness who has trouble getting her words straight."

  "No, you're not as pretty as D. Metria."

  What an effort to keep her tail still! "And not half as mischievous, either," she agreed. "Now remember: this will be a narrated play, in essence. The stallion will provide the actors, but we must speak their parts because there is no time for rehearsal and we don't want to have to do it more than once. Some dreams are like that, so there is precedent. We can ad-lib, but we have to stay with the general story line. Can you play it straight, for once?"

  "Look, Chex, I can do it if I want to!" he said, annoyed. "I know you have to do this to get to Cheiron and save your foal. I may have an offspring of my own some day!"

  "Yes, of course," she agreed quickly. "I apologize, Grundy."

  "Thank you." He seemed surprised; evidently he did not receive many apologies. "Now let's see just how good a dream we can do." And they worked on the details, waiting for the stallion's return.

  In due course the stallion arrived, and with him a troupe of denizens of the gourd bearing assorted props. Soon the region was littered with painted scenes of pleasant glades and beaches, and little containers of dream fragments. A larger pavilion was erected, shrouded by cheesecloth, so that Fracto would not be able to see what was being done here.

  "Just how is a dream recorded or animated?" Chex asked.

  "We have camcorders," the stallion explained, showing a creature with a lenslike snoot. "They note all details of a scene, and the mares take the finished dreams to their recipients. When you are ready to record a scene, just say 'take one' and when you want to end it, say 'cut.' They will do it."

  Chex wasn't sure about this, but had to assume that the stallion knew his business. "First we want some nice background scenes of a lovely castle and mountain with flowers. Can this be done so that it looks alive? I mean, not like a picture?"

  "Certainly. How's this?" The stallion wiggled an ear, and a mare stepped forward.

  Suddenly there was a dream. It was of an ornate mountain with a path spiraling up it, and Castle Roogna perched at the very top. That wasn't exactly what Chex had had in mind, but it would do. There were flowers at the base of the mountain, at least.

  "And a separate scene," Chex said as the dreamlet ended, "an escarpment or barren rocky place where a dragon might live."

  After a moment there was another dream scene of just such a place. It was by a raging sea, and evidently intended for a fear-of-drowning dream, but the overall scene was perhaps too pretty to inspire proper fear. Thus it was a reject and perfect for her purpose.

  "Now the actors," she said. "We need a lovely Princess, a sinisterly handsome man, a dragon, and a pair of unicorns, as well as some bit parts."

  They were available. "But not naked," Chex said. "Human folk are funny about such things; they are almost always clothed. The man must have a functional but obviously high-class suit, and the woman a quality dress with a revealing décolletage."

  "What?" the stallion asked.

  "A low neckline." Chex drew a finger across her breasts to indicate where the line crossed the upper swell of them. "Human folk pay a good deal of attention to that line, as they do to the bottom line."

  "Ah, yes. We have a financial stress section where we fashion dreams for export to Mundania. Wrong bottom lines are—"

  "I meant the hem of the skirt. The higher it is, the more intriguing it seems to be to human folk."

  "Yeah," Grundy breathed. "You ever look at Nada Naga's top and bottom lines, when she's in human form?"

  "This is an odd business, exploring human desires instead of human fears," the stallion grumbled. But he rousted up the clothing, and in due course the naked actors were suitably clothed.

  Chex had the Princess and man stand near the castle, said "take one," and started the narration.

  It did not go perfectly, and they did have to do a take two for some of it, but overall Chex was satisfied with the session. In the course of two hours they had the dream in the can, as the stallion put it.

  They ran the whole thing through one time to be sure that it was satisfactory. All of them watched, sharing what was perhaps the most positive dream the proprietors of bad dreams had made.

  The Princess appeared at the base of the mountain, picking nice flowers. Suddenly the handsome sinister Prince appeared. "Oh!" she exclaimed in Chex's voice. "You startled me!"

  "Fear not, lovely creature," the Prince said in Grundy's voice. "I have not come to hurt you, but to love you, for you are the most delicious princess I have seen."

  The Princess turned her big shining eyes on him, flattered. "Others have not found me so. Indeed, I am not married, and I am almost twenty-one."

  "I do not regard that as regrettable," the Prince said. "Come, we must get to know each other better."

  Soon they knew each other better, for the weather was fair; the only cloud in the scene was so white and fluffy that it would not have been able to rain on anything no matter how hard it tried. Indeed, faced with such excellent weather, they fell in love. "I must tell you something," the Prince said gravely. "And ask you something, which I fear you will not like."

  "Oh, I hope it is not that you are not a prince!" she exclaimed, horrified, "or that you do not love me!"

  "No, it is neither of these things," he reassured her. "I am indeed a prince, and I do love you. But I fear your love for me will suffer when you hear what I have to say and ask."

  The Princess thought that he would say that he was from an enemy kingdom, and that he wished to marry her. Since she was frankly bored with the local scene and found the daily return climb up the mountain to be arduous, she expected to express only token dismay at the prospec
t, even if her father the King were miffed. "Tell me and ask me, my love," she breathed. She was very good at breathing, and this had been so ever since she turned fourteen and donned an adult off-the-shoulder dress.

  "I am not a man," he said. "I am a dragon. I assumed human form only to cause you to love me. It is one of three transformations I am able to make."

  "But you told me you were a prince!" she exclaimed, dismayed.

  "I am a prince," he replied. "A Prince of Dragons. Once I attain my majority, I will be the King of Dragons, for my sire was recently chomped by a hostile poisonous sea serpent and is indisposed."

  The Princess considered. "I really had not anticipated this development," she confessed. "But I suppose a prince is a prince. What is it you wish to ask me?" For it seemed to her that it was better to marry a dragon than a commoner.

  "I must undergo a rite of passage in order to attain my majority and become King," he said. "I must resume my natural form, and consume a lovely innocent princess. This is a thing required of all royal dragons. Will you come to be eaten?"

  The Princess experienced a somewhat greater dismay than before. She had not anticipated this development either. She had rather hoped for a different type of question. "I will really have to go and ask my father," she demurred.

  "By all means," the Dragon Prince agreed. "It isn't wise to make a decision as important as this without consultation. I will depart, and await you one week hence at the escarpment by the sea. If you decide not to come, I will understand." He kissed her and departed.

  The Princess made the arduous climb to the castle at the top of the mountain. She went to the King and explained the situation. "I met this wonderful prince, O sagacious father," she said breathlessly, for she remained exercised from the climb. "But he is a Dragon Prince and wishes to consume me. Should I go to him at the escarpment by the sea next week for that?"

  "Well, that depends, O innocent daughter," the King replied. "Do you love him?"

  "Yes, father."

  "Do you love him enough to die for him?"

  She considered, for it was not an easy question. She really would have preferred an easier question. "Yes, father, I suppose I do."

  "Then I suppose you must go to him," the King said, evincing a certain regret. "But I fear we shall miss you. Perhaps you should consult with your mother the Queen."

  That had not occurred to her, so the Princess thanked him for the suggestion and repaired to the Queen.

  "What!" the Queen demanded.

  The Princess repeated the statement.

  "Thank you," the Queen said. "I didn't hear you before. But I'm not sure I approve. What are the credentials of this dragon? Is he really a prince?"

  The Princess assured her that he was.

  The Queen considered. "I am afraid I still don't approve. I can not forbid you this thing, being only a woman, but if you insist on it, don't think to return to my region of the castle thereafter."

  The Princess was saddened by her mother's disapproval, but realized that she was unlikely to have much occasion to return to the castle after her tryst with the Dragon Prince.

  When the appointed day came, the Princess garbed herself in her finest raiment, wearing a dress whose décolletage was so low and whose hem was so high that the dragon should have little difficulty seeing the most delectable parts of her to bite first. After all, she loved him, and wanted him to be pleased with her. She brushed out her marvelously silken tresses and set a ruby tiara on her head, its color suggestive of the blood she proposed to shed for her beloved. She touched a bit of red rose perfume behind her ears and in the hollow of her cleavage, its odor also suggestive of that color. All in all, she thought, she had done a creditable job for the occasion.

  She set out afoot, for though it was a fair walk, her father had informed her that he did not care to risk a fine horse too near the dragon. "After all, those creatures are notorious," he said. "Once they get the taste of blood, they are apt to attack anything in view." She had had to concede the validity of this caution.

  In due course, tired and dusty but still bravely beautiful, the Princess reached the escarpment. The Dragon Prince had not yet arrived, for she had allowed sufficient travel time and was a few minutes ahead of schedule. So she paused to repowder her face and wipe the dust from her slippers, so as to be as presentable as was feasible. She wanted her beloved's last sight of her to be a pleasant one.

  Something caught her eye in the mirror as she touched up her nose. There was something off to the side, behind the escarpment—something that had made a glint in the morning sunlight. She peered more closely at the reflection in the mirror, for it would be unbecoming to turn her head and stare directly. She saw that it was the shiny helmet of a mercenary soldier.

  Curious, for there seemed to be no purpose in a mercenary deployment at this site, she used her mirror to check farther. Soon she was assured: there was an entire troop of mercenaries armed with swords and shields. This deepened the mystery: what could they want here?

  Then the dragon appeared in the distant sky, winging his way toward the escarpment. Suddenly it occurred to the Princess that this could be an ambush sent by her father to slay the dragon. It was, she now recalled, the way his cunning mind worked. It was quite possible that the Queen had importuned him to Do Something, and though of course the Princess had no idea what sort of encouragement a woman could offer a man to do her will, she had on occasion seen her father change his mind after a night with the Queen. She had hoped some day to ascertain how such persuasion was accomplished, but that hope seemed academic now. At any rate, it did seem that the Dragon Prince was likely to be in trouble if he landed here.

  She ran to the very brink of the escarpment, frantically waving her arms. "O Prince Dragon!" she screamed, though it was not considered truly princessly to scream. "Do not land! There is an ambush!"

  The Dragon Prince heard her and shied off. He made a loop above the landing field, evidently in doubt how to proceed. He would not be able to complete his rite of passage if he did not land, yet it seemed distinctly awkward to do so.

  "Curses!" the leader of the mercenaries cursed. "The tart (if you will excuse the term) has given us away! There'll be Lucifer to pay if the dragon gets away."

  "Well, at least we can have our sport with the woman," a mercenary remarked with a certain enthusiasm.

  The mercenaries marched toward the Princess. Alarmed, she retreated, but they cut her off. They looked hungry, though they surely had eaten well before the ambush.

  The nearest one reached for her. The Princess screamed and fell helplessly to the ground.

  The Dragon Prince, evidently disturbed by this spectacle, abruptly made up his mind. He wheeled and came directly in on a strafing run. He sent out a blast of flame that singed the Princess's lovely tresses as it passed over her, but bathed the standing mercenaries in fire. In a moment they were roasted, as it were, in the shells of their armor.

  The Princess, perturbed by the smell, got up and tried to leave the scene. But the smoking bodies were all around her. So she leaped off the escarpment. "Catch me, O my beloved!" she cried as she fell toward the churning sea below. "My hair is burnt, but my flesh is not; I remain excellent eating, I'm sure, and if not, then you can drop me in the heaving sea and seek another princess."

  The dragon maneuvered expertly and swooped down to catch her in his great jaws. But he did not crunch her in half, perhaps because at least one of the pieces would have fallen into the water. He carried her unharmed into the sky. There was a small dark cloud present, but the wind was wrong and the storm was unable to present any difficulties. The cloud seemed oddly perturbed at that. He bore her away to a distant isle, and there he landed and set her gently down.

  "I am glad they did not get you," she said. "For I love you, whatever your form, and would not have you suffer."

  "I cannot eat you now," the Dragon Prince said with a certain regret.

  "But why not, O my love?" she inquired.

  "
Because you have lost your innocence. I must consume an innocent maiden princess to complete my rite of passage."

  "But what did I do?" she cried, distraught.

  "You betrayed your father's ambush."

  "But they would have hurt you!" she protested.

  "Undoubtedly. But a true innocent would not have betrayed them to an enemy."

  She hung her head, ashamed. "You must be right, for I feel dirtied. Yet I fear I would do it again, given opportunity, for my love for you will not be denied. I am sorry I failed you in this; I had wanted so much to be pristine for you."

  "Perhaps it is for the best," he said philosophically. "For I had already come to the conclusion that I could not eat you, and in that I betrayed my own trust."

  "You could not? Why?"

  "Because I love you as you love me. Now I dare not show my snoot back in Dragonland, for I have shown myself to be unworthy of my calling."

  "I'm so sorry," she said sympathetically. "Now we both are in trouble, for surely I can not return to my kingdom after this. Whatever shall we do?"

  "I think there is no help for it but that we marry and settle down to live happily ever after," he said with regret.

  "But I can not marry you in that form," she protested. "Also, I would not enjoy living on this isle, without benefit of castle and servants."

  "Are you sure you don't want to return you to your castle?" he asked. "There at least you will have the princessly things to which you are accustomed."

  "No, for my father the King would be most wroth with me for betraying his ambush, and my mother the Queen told me not to return."

  The dragon pondered. "I do have two remaining transformation spells," he said after a moment. "I could use them to transform us to similar creatures. Would you like to be a dragoness?"

  "And eat people? I prefer not. What about a more benign form, such as a unicorn?"

  "You are enamored of unicorns?" he asked, surprised.

  "Naturally. All innocent young women are."

  "Then I shall make us both unicorns," he said. "That way, we shall be recognized by neither of our kingdoms and will be able to range here on the Isle of View."