Five Portraits

by Piers Anthony

“Tricky,” Win said, letting her wind fade.

  They resumed swinging. Another creature appeared, this one a vicious-looking hawk. “Our swinging alerts them,” Firenze said. “So they don’t waste their energy going after nothing.”

  Santo holed the hawk. It growled in pain and dropped, becoming a dragon.

  They swung again, passing an intersecting line of swings. Win swung back toward Astrid. “Where are you going?” Astrid asked, surprised.

  The child didn’t answer. She collided with Astrid’s swing, put her dead down, and bit Astrid on the leg.

  Astonished, Astrid put a hand down and caught the child by the scruff of the neck. But it wasn’t clothing she caught; it was the scaly neck of a dragon. It was an illusion!

  Now she saw the real Win ahead on another swing. Furious, she hauled the mock dragon up to her face and stared into the supposed child’s eyes.

  In a moment she held a small dead dragon in her hand. She dropped it into the gulf. Then she checked her leg. The dragon had been small, and her basilisk skin was tough; there wasn’t much damage. But it was a lesson.

  “Did you see that?” she asked the children.

  “Win swung back,” Santo said. “Only it wasn’t her; it was a dragon copying her. I’d have holed it if I’d realized.”

  “Suppose it was the real Win?” Squid asked.

  “That’s what we’re up against in this section,” Astrid said. “Illusion-covered creatures—including ones that look like us. We don’t dare attack them carelessly, lest we hurt one of our own.”

  “I can tell, now that I know to look,” Squid said. “That fake Win was a mirror image.”

  She could tell a mirror image by sight? She really did have superior sight! “Then coordinate with Santo,” Astrid said. “Tell him which ones are the fakes so he can hole them.”

  “And the fakes can’t talk,” Firenze said. “So when in doubt, talk.”

  They resumed swinging. Another figure appeared. This one was a copy of Santo himself. “That’s not you,” Squid said confidently. “Hole it.”

  “I suspected as much,” Santo said with a bit of a smile as he holed the image of himself. It became a hawk and fluttered into the gulf. “Weird.”

  There were other attacks, but they dealt with them and continued moving. They had gotten on top of another type of illusion.

  They made it to the next wall, and swung through.

  The fourth chamber was pale green, from stalactites and swings down in the gulf. There were no illusions visible, but those would surely appear once they were committed to the swings. There was a large stone platform or mesa in the center that could serve as a resting point.

  “We need to be ready for anything,” Astrid said. “I think Myst should travel as a cloud, ready to condense the moment she needs to. Squid should keep alert for anything, real or illusion, and let us all know. Santo needs to be ready to hole anything she tells him to. I will be ready to Stare anything similarly. Firenze can firework as necessary. We all have to trust each other, even if we see more copies of ourselves.”

  The children nodded. Then they set out, with Win leading the way, blowing and swinging. It was slow, but no longer very slow as they connected efficiently.

  When they got well out into the gulf, things exploded into action. Suddenly there was a host of flying dragons, birds, bats, and huge insects. There were also invisible creatures, as Myst’s mist showed. And some of the visible creatures, Astrid was sure, would be not illusions but illusion-covered creatures. All were converging on the swings.

  “You know what to do!” Astrid called.

  “In the cloud,” Squid said. “Three blips.”

  Santo oriented, and the three blips developed holes, became little flying monsters, and fell down into the void.

  “The Astrid behind you is not her,” Squid said. Santo whirled and holed the figure of Astrid, and it became a dragon and fell.

  “The others are straight illusions,” Squid said. “Ignore them.”

  One of those was a giant flying scorpion headed right for Astrid. She nerved herself and let it collide with her—and pass on through without effect. Firenze stood up to a giant rabid bat similarly.

  Thus organized, they made it to the central platform, which was not an illusion. They got on it, relieved, ready to rest before moving on. Myst coalesced into her solid form.

  A man appeared. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “He’s real,” Squid said, surprised. “Not human, but not a monster or an illusion.”

  Astrid faced him. “We are a party of one adult and five children seeking to depart from the Storage rooms of the Playground. Is this something you know anything about?”

  The man puffed up to a larger size, literally. “Of course I know. This is my private Storage purse, normally closed to intruders. I made it, I maintain it. There is a penalty for intrusion.”

  So he was a figure of some consequence. This could be very good or very bad. Astrid put on her most fetching smile, one almost guaranteed to soften the heart or head of any male. “Then let’s introduce ourselves. I am Astrid Basilisk, effective nanny for these children.”

  The man took that in, but neither flinched nor warmed. “I am Dwarf Demon Gambol, specializing in games.”

  A Dwarf Demon! That must be Gambol as in gamboling, skipping or frolicking, playing games. Even the least of Demons had more sheer power than the whole of the mortal creatures of Xanth. Certainly he would be immune to her Stare. She needed to tread carefully here. She smiled again, winsomely. “Then you are the proprietor of the Playground and all its impressive annexes.”

  “As I said.” But he was beginning to melt. Her smile was in some respects the inverse of her Stare, making men become accommodating. She was a bit nervous employing its power, because if she made too much of an impression he would get an idea that seemed never to be far from a male mind. Even Demons could have somewhat mortal tastes, as the marriages between Demons and mortals indicated.

  “We were visiting the Playground because of its fine recreational facilities, especially its Stage for Plays, when someone folded it up with us inside. Was that you, without being aware of us?”

  “That was not me,” Gambol said. “The Playground is for children to use freely. But they should stay out of Storage, which has become overrun with vermin.”

  Such as goblins, harpies, werewolves and dragons? “We encountered those. Now we seek only to escape, so we can return to our home. But the path has been arduous.”

  Gambol considered. “You are near the exit. Considering that your presence here is involuntary, I will let you go. But the children must remain here.”

  “No,” Astrid said firmly. She was fully conscious than a mortal did not say No to a Demon, but she had no choice. “We must leave together. These children are my responsibility and I must get them home.”

  He considered. “So you do have a bit of backbone, basilisk. How do you propose to buy the freedom of the children?”

  And there it was. He was interested in something that could not be done in the presence of children, and that she did not want to do at all. She couldn’t even be too explicit about discussing it while they listened. “I am a virtually married woman. If there is any service I can render that does not compromise that, I will consider it.”

  Gambol smiled. “I like your attitude. I was thinking of a game.”

  “That depends on the game,” she said guardedly.

  “The kind children can play. I collect and save all kinds of children’s games. Give me a new one, and I will let your party go.”

  Astrid was at a loss. She did not know of any children’s game that he would not already be familiar with.

  “We can help,” Firenze said.

  “Oh, thank you!” Astrid said gratefully.

  “First we have to invent it,” Sa
nto said.

  “Invent it,” Gambol agreed.

  The children linked hands, Communing. Then they separated. “Please stand here, Aunt Astrid,” Squid said, leading her to a spot in the center of the platform.

  Then the children quickly sketched a network of lines circling around her, like a big puzzle. Soon they had it completed.

  “This game is called ‘Basilisk,’” Win said.

  “It’s a maze,” Myst said.

  “The object is to start at this side,” Firenze said, “and find our way through it to the other side.”

  “But there’s a basilisk in the center,” Santo said. “Her Stare is lethal and even her closeness is deadly. So she is hard to pass.”

  “But all paths go past her,” Squid said.

  “So there’s no way to avoid her,” Win said.

  “But there is a way to get through,” Myst concluded.

  Gambol contemplated the maze. He tried walking along one path, then another, and another. But all paths led to Astrid. “I could pass, of course, but I see no way for a child,” he said.

  The children smiled in unison.

  “What is the way?” the Demon asked, faintly nettled.

  “Love the basilisk,” Firenze said.

  “Do what?”

  “And trust her,” Santo said.

  “But she’s deadly!”

  “And she will love you back,” Squid said.

  “And let you pass,” Win added.

  “Unharmed,” Myst concluded.

  Then they demonstrated. Firenze entered the maze and navigated it to the center where Astrid stood. “I love you, basilisk,” he said, not looking directly at her.

  Astrid kissed him quickly. “And I love you, Firenze.”

  He walked on, completing the maze.

  One by one the other children did the same, each declaring love without looking, each being kissed and passed along. Then all five of them stood at the far side.

  “It will work for any sincere child,” Firenze said.

  “According to the rules of this game,” Santo said.

  “Which won’t have a real basilisk in it,” Squid said.

  “Just a pretend basilisk,” Win said.

  “But we do love our real one,” Myst said, taking Astrid’s hand briefly.

  Gambol nodded. “I like your game. I’ll take it. Depart in peace.” He vanished.

  “Oh, thank you, children!” Astrid said. “You came through, again. I even liked the way you did it.”

  “We do love you,” Firenze said.

  “And I love you, all of you,” Astrid said, tears in her eyes.

  They didn’t delay. They set out swinging, heading for the far side of the gulf, where Astrid now saw a sign saying EXIT. No illusions attacked. They were truly being allowed to go in peace.

  Win blew the last swing, setting it in motion. It swung away—but snagged on an outcropping of rock that Astrid could have sworn had not been there before.

  “Blow it again,” she called.

  Win did, sending another gust. But the swing stayed snagged. She blew up a gale that tugged violently at the ropes.

  And a rope broke, dropping the swing’s board into the gulf.

  They stared, horrified. Had they lost their way out at the last stage? Without that swing they could not complete their crossing.

  “GOTCHA!”

  Suddenly Demoness Fornax was there. So was Demon Nemesis, caught with his formerly invisible hand on the rope. So it had not been an accident!

  “You are guilty of interfering in a Demon Wager,” Fornax told him. “As you did when you folded up the Playground and locked the children inside. This time I caught you. You thought to hold them hostage to force me to comply with your desire, or to intervene myself to save them and forfeit my case. But I lurked throughout, watching, and nailed you. Your backside is mine, Demon!”

  Demon Nemesis looked at his backside, abashed. “You caught me,” he agreed. “You can destroy my reputation among Demons, a humiliation I can’t tolerate. Naturally you have some fell motive in mind. What is your price?”

  “I will think about it,” Fornax said. “But whatever it is, you will pay it without question, or suffer the consequence.”

  “I will pay it,” he agreed.

  “Now repair that swing and be gone.”

  The Demon disappeared. The swing hung there, intact. Win blew it, and got it swinging. They resumed their progress.

  “Thank you,” Astrid said as Fornax floated beside her. “You saved us.”

  “It is what a friend does. I did not desert you. I merely had to hide and let you proceed alone so that Nemesis would show his hand. I would have intervened had any of you gotten in real trouble.”

  That was comforting to know in retrospect. By “real trouble” she meant likely death. But it would have cost the Demoness hideously. “I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

  “But it was nevertheless a great satisfaction to nail Nemesis’s backside.”

  Astrid laughed. “I’m sure. Only you could have done it.”

  “And that was touching, the love you share with the children. I love you too, Astrid, as a friend. I knew it when I saw that happen.”

  “Wenda Woodwife was right. Children are the key to friendship and love.” Astrid sighed. “But I have a problem.”

  “I will help you with it if I can.”

  “We are about to escape this prison and return to Xanth proper. The children will be free. But I don’t want to give them up.”

  “Because you love all of them.”

  “Yes. I liked them before, but this adventure, which really put us all through our paces, brought out their marvelous qualities, and now I love them.”

  “And we love you, Aunt Astrid,” Firenze said. “We don’t want to leave you.” There was a murmur of agreement along the swing line.

  Astrid had for the moment forgotten that her dialogue with the Demoness was not private. Now she had to argue the other side of the case. “But you have to be adopted into five families, and get your family portraits painted, so that Xanth will be saved.”

  There was a sigh along the line. “We do,” Firenze agreed sadly.

  They let the subject drop, and it fell heavily into the gulf, vanishing without even a splash.

  One by one they came to the EXIT sign and swung through the wall. They landed on firm rock in a tunnel whose steps spiraled upward. There was even a convenient handrail. There was a landing at the top, with another door. They opened it and stood on a landing overlooking a pleasant wooded vista. There was a path wending politely down the slope. The air was fresh and sweet.

  They hugged each other, phenomenally relieved. They were out.

  Chapter 11:

  Home

  Fornax stood by the side, looking a little sad. Squid noticed, and went to her. “You helped us, again, Aunt Fornax,” she said. “You saved me before, and then when you caught that mean Demon. Give me a virtual hug.”

  Fornax assumed her ghostly form, and the child carefully hugged it.

  “We do appreciate what you did for us,” Santo said.

  “Thank you,” Fornax said. Astrid could see that she appreciated this recognition.

  “Now we need to figure out where we are,” Astrid said. “I thought we’d come out the other side of the folded Playground, but that does not seem to be the case.”

  “I must not do anything to facilitate your progress physically,” Fornax said. “Nemesis is watching, hoping to catch me intervening, just as he did, thus nullifying my advantage over him. But considering that we are here because of his interference, I believe I can safely clarify some details. We are in a placid corner of the Region of Earth; the next volcanic eruption here is not due for a while, so it’s safe.”

  “For a while?” Astrid a
sked, uncertain whether to be alarmed.

  “A century.”

  Astrid laughed, relieved. “That will do. But why is the Playground exit here?”

  “Gambol wanted a convenient site at a fixed place. The Playgrounds—there are several of them—may move around, as folk transport them, but when he needs to enter their common Storage to stock another game he doesn’t want to have to search. So the back entrance remains in one place, regardless where the front entrances go.”

  “That makes sense,” Squid said.

  “But where is the folded Playground?” Win asked.

  “Nemesis flipped it into the Gap Chasm.”

  They stared at her. “Then it’s lost!” Myst wailed.

  “Not so. It remains where it landed, caught in a partridge pear tree.”

  “But we can’t get it there,” Firenze said.

  “You can if you choose to,” Fornax said. “You can simply travel there and pick it up.”

  “But what about the Gap Dragon?” Santo asked.

  Fornax smiled. “I suspect Astrid could handle him.”

  Squid laughed. “I guess she could.”

  “But the Gap Chasm is big,” Win said.

  “How could we ever find it?” Myst asked.

  “That is part of the beauty of Gamble’s system,” Fornax said. “He wants to know where the Playground are at all times, in case he want to impress a new child with one. So he set up a pointer.”

  “A pointer?” Firenze asked.

  “Here,” Fornax said, indicating an alcove in the mountain behind them. There was a small stand there with what looked like a weather vane. “This always points to the one the person associated with, and the size of the arrow indicates how far away it is. A small point means it is far in the distance; a large point means it’s close by. So this means that it is moderately far away, in this direction.”

  “So we can go that way, that far, and find it?” Santo asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Neat,” Squid said.

  “Unfortunately the direct way is crowded with dragons, harpies, nickelpedes and some less savory creatures.”

  “We have had enough of those,” Astrid said. “Anyway, it is time for us to get on home to our companions, who surely are distraught about our disappearance.”