Five Portraits

by Piers Anthony

  “I’m Santo. My talent is to create holes.”

  “That’s simple but worthy.”

  “It’s not simple. I can make any kind of hole. Such as a hell hole that brings up heat to cook my food. But folk get nervous.”

  “Don’t make any more hell holes,” Astrid said.

  “And if I want to swim underwater, I can make a hole through the water to air so I can breathe.”

  “That’s a very special hole,” Astrid agreed. Indeed, to make one that would not collapse in liquid signaled a far more potent talent.

  “Folk don’t like it when I make peepholes to bathrooms or dragon nests.”

  “We will try to find you a family that likes holes,” Astrid said. “Yours are really impressive.”

  Having finally won her admiration, he collapsed. “They’re gone.”

  She went to him and enfolded him, briefly, letting him cry it out. He was after all an orphan.

  Then he looked at her, as Firenze had. “I think I’ve seen you before.”

  “I’m pretty sure you haven’t.”

  “A—a statue.”

  “A statue!” Firenze said. “That’s where!”

  Astrid laughed. “I’ve never been a statue.”

  The cable moved on. The next car was a rickety mundane jalopy with a bad paint job. Astrid wondered if the cars were orphans too, trying to be useful in their retirement. This one contained a five-year-old girl with windblown hair. That reminded Astrid of Tiara, whose hair had originally been wild because of its antigravity, before she got it under control. The girl was already crying.

  “We’ll help,” Firenze said. He and Squid went to comfort the new girl.

  Astrid was pleased with the way the children were getting along together. They might be destined to be split up among different families, but in the interim it was better if they were compatible with each other. The new one turned out to be Win, whose talent was always to have the wind at her back. That was why her hair was constantly blowing forward. It seemed she could not turn off the wind.

  “We can take one more,” Dysnomia said. “The rules are fighting back, and we’ll have to return before something snaps.”

  Astrid took the warning to heart. She did not want to be spread across an infinite number of realities.

  The fifth car was a giant gemstone, a faceted garnet. Had had that gotten in this line? Then she realized that it was a carbuncle. It came to earth, a facet swung out, and a four-year-old girl emerged. She had curly mouse-brown hair and hazel eyes. “Is this—?”

  “It is where you belong,” Astrid said quickly.

  But the girl was doubtful. She had of course been told to ride to the end of the line, and this plainly wasn’t. Astrid didn’t try to argue. She reached in to catch the girl’s arm and convey her out before the car moved on. And missed.

  Or rather, mist. The child had become a patch of mist. That was evidently her talent. How could Astrid rescue her if she could not be touched? The car would move on at any moment.

  It was little Win who came to her rescue. “Neat talent! Mine’s wind. We can play fun games together.”

  That intrigued the newcomer. She reformed into the girl and jumped down to join Win as the carbuncle moved on. Her name, it turned out, was Myst, after her talent of misting.

  Then she, too, looked at Astrid with that faintly odd expression.

  “No, we’ve never met before,” Astrid said quickly.

  “Still, it helps,” Myst said.

  “Get them close together,” Dysnomia said urgently. “We’re about to move.”

  Astrid and Firenze got the other four children clustered closely in the center of a general glob, and the two Demonesses enclosed them on the outside. “Watch,” Astrid told the children. “We have a funny show to show you.”

  The quivering began, and accelerated, becoming the flickering of day and night, then the backward progress of the seasons. The children watched, fascinated by this show.

  “You have the touch,” Fornax murmured to Astrid.

  “I didn’t even know that I liked children,” Astrid said. “But I guess I do.”

  About the time the children began to get bored with the show, they arrived in the present-day glade. “We made it!” Dysnomia said, evidently relieved as she departed. That made Astrid slightly nervous in retrospect. Had this excursion been riskier than it seemed?

  “Now we have to get them to our camp,” Astrid said. “So they can meet the others. We’ll need to feed them and make them a cozy place to stay the night.”

  “I will transport us,” Fornax said.

  “Wait,” Firenze said.

  Astrid looked at him. “There’s a problem? Someone needs to poop?”

  “It’s not that. Huddled together, we felt something. We’re not lonely when we’re together.”

  “That’s good,” Astrid said.

  “It’s more,” Squid said. “We can feel the rightness.”

  “Well, we are trying to do what’s right,” Astrid agreed.

  “It’s that coming here together is right,” Santo said.

  “And we can tell if it goes wrong,” Win said.

  “If we’re together,” Myst said.

  This was curious. “Are you saying that you have some kind of magic awareness when you’re touching each other?” Astrid asked.

  “Yes,” Firenze said. “And we don’t want to be separated.”

  “We’re all from the future,” Santo said. “It’s a bond.”

  That was indeed the single thing they shared: they were all orphans from the virtual future. Astrid didn’t know why that should give them any special awareness, but if the idea of it was a bond for them, it was to be encouraged. “I’m glad you are all getting along with each other. You didn’t know each other before we collected you, did you?”

  “No,” Win said. “We were windblown strangers.”

  “But when we traveled through time, then we felt it,” Myst said.

  “So are you saying it’s wrong to go to our camp?” Astrid asked.

  “Not exactly,” Squid said.

  “But there’s something we need to do first,” Firenze said.

  “And what is that?”

  “We don’t know,” Santo said.

  Astrid suppressed her frustration. She wanted to get along well with these children and already knew it would not be easy. Children were more complicated than she had anticipated. “Do you have a hint?”

  “We—we need to be sure we can always get together,” Win said.

  “Even if we’re apart,” Myst said.

  “But when we find good homes for you, you will no longer be together,” Astrid said.

  “That’s why we need a way,” Squid said.

  This required some finessing. “Why don’t you get together and orient on that way?” Astrid suggested.

  “Okay,” Firenze said. It didn’t seem to matter which one spoke; they seemed to have a common thought.

  The children clustered together, forming a hand-holding circle.

  “There are many,” Myst said.

  “We’ll get the closest one,” Squid said.

  “That way,” Santo said, pointing.

  “But that’s all tangled thorns,” Win protested.

  “I’ll make a hole.” Santo pointed, and a hole appeared. It was a big one, a veritable tunnel through the brush. Astrid was impressed; that was one versatile talent.

  The children walked through the tunnel, and Astrid and Fornax followed. “This is not what I thought it would be,” the Demoness murmured.

  “Nor I,” Astrid agreed. “It seems dealing with children is a challenge. Maybe that’s what Wenda meant: by the time we learn to take proper care of the children, we’ll have a lot of mutual experience and be friends.”

  “That
seems reasonable.”

  “Is it tying you up when you have other things to do? I can stay with the children.”

  “Then it would not become a joint experience.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Astrid agreed, chagrined. “I did not mean to be a burden to you.”

  “Understand this about Demons,” Fornax said. “We can be in many places at the same time, and do many things at once. I am currently supervising Kandy’s negotiation on the terms of the Demon Wager, and I am reviewing the upkeep of my palace in Galaxy Fornax, and fending off the amorous advances of Demon Nemesis, and doing countless other chores while being here with you. You are incapable of monopolizing my attention. When I seem to leave you, this is to allow you some respite, not because I need any myself.”

  “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that you are a Demon. I’m thinking of you as a friend.”

  “Exactly. That is the point of our association. Already I feel less lonely because of the warmth of your attention.”

  Astrid was becoming embarrassed, so she changed the subject. “Demon Nemesis?”

  “He associates with Dark Matter, that the rest of us can’t perceive directly. His local planet is a brown dwarf circling the sun far out, that others have had difficulty locating. He, perhaps alone, has no problem with my antimatter; it does not make him explode into energy, because the interaction is too slight.”

  “Amorous advances?”

  “Demons are not limited the way mortals are, but if he took mortal form he would be entirely typical of mortal males, being interested in only one thing. I have no patience for it.”

  “My man Art is interested in that, but once his edge is off he has qualities I like, like his artistic ability. He truly does like to paint, and he is good at it.”

  “It would require a century of amour squeezed into one second to take Nemesis’s edge off, as you put it, and then the respite would be brief. More trouble than it is worth.”

  Astrid had to laugh. “Because he is not limited in that manner either, I suspect. Art falls asleep after once. That is typical of mortal men.”

  “Demons don’t sleep. They merely simulate it as convenient.”

  “You have my sympathy.”

  “Oh, I would do it if I had reason. It’s not as if I would have to pay more than token attention. But why bother?”

  “Well, if you ever needed him for something.”

  “I am a Demon. I need nothing. Except what I am getting from you: friendship.”

  The tunnel debouched at what appeared to be a playground, with slides and swings and seesaws, sandboxes, and a little merry-go-round. There was also a raised stage, with benches before it.

  “A playground!” Astrid said.

  “It is more devious than it looks,” Fornax said darkly. “There is a fair amount of magic here.”

  “This is the way the children can be together?” Astrid asked, perplexed. “Of course they can have fun here, but only when they come here. I don’t see how this solves that.”

  “You will,” Fornax assured her.

  Chapter 5:

  Playground

  “Can we take a break?” Firenze asked. “Get to know the playground?”

  “May we take a break,” Astrid said.

  He looked at her. “You’re not my mother, but sometimes you remind me of her.”

  Astrid nodded. “And?”

  “May we take a break?”

  “Yes. Then tell me what this is all about.”

  The children pitched into play. The two younger girls, Win and Myst, shared the seesaw, whose central eyeball watched them closely. Squid enjoyed the slide. Santo punched little holes in the sand-in-a-box, without touching it physically. Firenze pumped himself up so high on a swing it looked as if he was in danger of flying away into the sky.

  “Children have fun,” Fornax remarked. “It had not occurred to me before to observe it, but there is a certain pleasure in the viewing.”

  “Maybe we should join them, to share the spirit.”

  “And understand them better,” Fornax agreed.

  The two of them went to the merry-go-round and mounted two of the little wooden horses. Music sounded, and the device started moving. The horses went up and down on their poles. “Wheee!” Astrid exclaimed. “I never saw one of these when I was young.”

  “I was never young,” Fornax said.

  After no more than a moment and a half the children came to join them. “I’ll race you to the post!” Firenze challenged Santo. Of course the horses were fixed to their poles; they couldn’t race each other.

  “You’re on,” Santo said. His horse put down its head and galloped faster, surging ahead.

  “Oh, yeah?” Firenze’s horse snorted steam and bore down, catching up.

  Astrid stared, amazed. The horses remained on their poles, yet somehow they were racing.

  “I believe I mentioned magic,” Fornax murmured.

  “So you did,” Astrid agreed weakly.

  Soon Astrid began to get dizzy, and had to get off her high horse. Then she jumped to the ground. Fornax joined her by the side of the merry-go-round.

  “The children are right: this is fun.”

  “I’m glad to see them happy. But what is the point of it? They were looking for a way to be together when they were apart.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Fortunately the children’s attention spans were short, and they soon tired of the circling and racing. Then the merry-go-round slowed and stopped, and they got off and rejoined the adults.

  “This will do,” Firenze said.

  “I’m glad you are enjoying it. But how does it enable you to be together when you’re apart?”

  “Well, it’s magic. But there’s a catch.”

  “How is it magic?”

  “We can take it with us, so we can use it whenever we want.”

  Astrid gazed at the playground enclosure, which measured about a mundane acre. “How do you do this?”

  “Like this,” Santo said.

  The children ran to the edges of the park. They pushed against the picket fence surrounding it, and the fence folded down. Then they pushed again, and the edges folded inward. Where they came to a slide, swing, seesaw or whatever, that folded too, as if painted on the surface. They continued, until they met in the center, pushing five edges together to form a box. Then they folded the box, and it became smaller and smaller, until at last it was matchbox-size. Santo tucked it into his shirt pocket.

  “Can you reverse it?” Astrid asked.

  “Sure,” Firenze said. “We can just unfold it.”

  “But if you are separated, only the one who unfolds it will have the park. That won’t bring you together.”

  “Matches!” Win said.

  “I forgot,” Santo said. He pulled the matchbox out of his pocket, slid it open, and brought out matches. He passed them out to the others, and took one himself, which he put in another pocket. The others put theirs in their pockets, except Squid, who tucked hers into her painted hair. Astrid decided not to inquire how she could put a real object in fake hair.

  “Matches are dangerous in the hands of children,” Astrid said. “They can set fires.”

  “These are different,” Squid said. “They don’t make fire.”

  “They match people up with the box,” Win said.

  “So we can all come to the park, wherever it is,” Myst said.

  Astrid was unsure about this. “Can you demonstrate?”

  “Sure,” Santo said. He walked away from them, turned, and struck his match against a rock. There was no flash of fire. Instead he appeared back by the matchbox.

  But Astrid was unsatisfied. “I’m sure that playing here is fun, and you can get to the playground when you want to. But you can play anywhere. Why is it so important to have this particular park?”

  “We don’t know,” Firenze said. “Just that
it is.”

  “That’s not sufficient. We need a better answer.”

  The boy’s face started to heat. He was about to go into fireworks mode.

  Astrid touched her glasses warningly.

  Firenze cooled. “Maybe we can find out.”

  “It’ll cost us,” Santo said.

  “Oh, blip!” Firenze agreed. “It’s not free.”

  “I’m not comfortable with all this mystery,” Astrid said. “I think we had better find out what it costs, and why.”

  “But we have to use it to find out,” Squid protested.

  “You found the playground without using it,” Astrid said. “Now find out what it’s for.”

  The children bounced a glance somewhat haphazardly around. “Maybe we can,” Santo said.

  They gathered together and linked hands. They concentrated. Then they fell apart, dismayed. “That’s scary!” Win said.

  Squid lost her composure, reverting to her octopus form. Little Myst started crying.

  Astrid picked her up, and she did not fog out. This brief contact should be all right despite Astrid’s intoxicating ambiance. “What scared you, dear?”

  “Doom!” Santo said, shaken.

  Astrid looked at Firenze. “Can you clarify that?”

  “I can. May I?”

  Astrid had to smile. “I’m glad you have that straight, now. Can is ability; may is permission. You may.”

  “It’s that this Xanth is doomed. Same as our own Xanth. That wipeout is coming toward us, and in fifty years will hit us, and we’ll all die anyway.”

  That probably made sense. War was destined to happen. “How does the playground relate to this?”

  “It can show us how to save Xanth, maybe,” Firenze said. “If we ask it the right way.”

  “A playground can save Xanth?”

  “No,” Santo said. “It can just guide us so we can save Xanth.”

  That was a technical distinction, but she could appreciate it. “How will it guide you? Does it have a voice?”

  Little Myst laughed. “No voice.”

  Astrid set her down, as she was evidently over her fright. “Then how?”

  “If we do our circle in the playground, it will make it stronger, so we can get better guidance,” Firenze said.