The matron found a cord and loosely tied Astrid’s hands.
“Tighter.”
Well, she had tried. She tightened it, reluctantly.
“Now go sit with the children.”
Astrid heard the matron go.
The troll approached Astrid. When he reached her, he cast aside the child and put the flat of the knife to her throat. “Any resistance from you, basilisk, and I slit your throat. Do you understand?”
Astrid nodded. She understood far better than she liked. She knew exactly what was coming next—and she did not dare try to stop it. The troll was obviously an experienced molester. One of the bad ones, as Truculent had been.
Unless she could shame him. “Are you going to do it in front of the children?”
“Yeah. It’ll do them good to see it.”
“Such a direct violation of the Adult Conspiracy will utterly freak them out.”
“Exactly.” He was evidently shameless.
The troll hooked his fingers in her shirt and ripped it open. “Nice,” he said. Then he caught her skirt and hauled it down. “Nice,” he repeated.
Evidently the sight of her panties did not freak him out. Too bad; she had counted on that. Some males were so jaded that they could resist the freak. Those were generally the worst kind.
“What are you going to do with the children?” she asked, playing for time. The longer he stayed close to her, the more likely her ambiance was to get to him.
“Take them to our little group and dump them in the cooking pot for dinner. What else? Freaked out tidbits are the tastiest.”
The matron made an exclamation of utter dismay. She had tied Astrid to avoid harm to one child; now all of them were threatened.
Did the troll realize that Astrid could revert to her natural form, escaping her mask and bonds? She would have to act rapidly to avoid that big knife.
He put the edge of the knife to her throat so that it pricked the skin. “Any trouble at all, and you’re dead, no matter what your form, bask,” he said. “So you’d better stick to this one, at least until I’m through.”
He realized. She was out of options. She would have to submit to the rape and await her opportunity. But the necessity galled her mightily. She wished she could rip off the mask and fry him with her Stare.
Suddenly the bus’s engine roared into life. “Hey!” the troll shouted.
There was the sound of grinding gears. Then the bus lurched forward. The children screamed as they were shoved to the back by the motion.
“Who the bleep is driving?” the troll demanded as he was jolted away from Astrid.
The bus careened to the side, the wheels running off the edge of the pavement and spinning on dirt. Then it swung back onto the highway. Astrid and the troll wore thrown back and forth, and the children screamed again as the bus veered madly about.
“Get out of there, brat!” the troll shouted.
Brat? Then Astrid put it together. Firenze! Somehow while the troll was occupied with Astrid he had sneaked up to the driver’s seat and started working the controls. But how had he figured out how to drive the bus? Astrid herself didn’t know how to do that.
“I’ll pulverize you!” the troll said, tromping forward.
Astrid struggled with her bonds, but couldn’t free her hands or get the mask off; both were on too securely.
Then hands were on her. “Hold still, bask,” the matron’s voice said. “I’ll free you, then you stop him, if there’s time during this distraction.”
Astrid held still. But she could tell by the speed of the tromping that there was not going to be enough time.
The bus accelerated, swinging madly across the highway one way and the other, the tires squealing their magic protest. But the tromping continued. The troll was holding on to the seats as he worked his way forward.
Then the bus abruptly braked, and everything slid forward in the magic of inertia. The matron held on to Astrid, frantically untying her hands. But it was too late. “Gotcha!” the troll exclaimed triumphantly.
There was a hissing noise. Then the troll screamed in pain. “Oww! I’m blinded by fire!”
Astrid had to smile. Firenze had invoked his fireworks. In the troll’s face.
Finally Astrid’s hands were free. “Thanks, matron!” she said, immediately ripping off the mask. She scrambled up and oriented on the troll.
But it was no longer necessary. The troll was clawing at his blasted face, totally incapacitated by the pain. Firenze was watching as his head cooled, ready to strike again if he had to.
“Firenze!” Astrid cried, running to him as she put her dark glasses back on.
“Aunt Astrid!”
Then they were hugging, awkwardly, because the driver’s chair was in the way. “You’re all right!” she said, relieved.
“He was going to do something mean to you,” Firenze said tearfully. “I heard him threaten to slit your throat.”
“He was,” she agreed, drawing away. “But you saved me by starting the bus. How did you ever manage to do that?”
“I—learned,” he said. “I guess I was lucky to make it work.”
“Learned?”
Then Fornax appeared. “Learning to drive a bus has no relevance to normal Xanthly activity,” she remarked. “Obviously it does not constitute an intervention. It was purely an exercise in theoretical information.”
“Yeah,” Firenze agreed. “And also learning about inertia magic that can throw people about. I guess maybe it distracted the troll.”
“Intriguing coincidence,” Astrid agreed, hugely relieved. So Fornax and Firenze, working together, had foiled the troll’s machinations.
Astrid took hold of the suffering troll and hustled him to the door, and then on out. She pushed him away from the bus. “Be thankful we don’t abuse you the way you were going to abuse us,” she said. Not that he would have noticed, given the state of his face.
Meanwhile the matron was seeing to the children, who were bruised and frightened but essentially all right. “Do you know the proper route?” Astrid asked, not looking at her directly.
“I do,” the matron said.
“Then you will guide the new driver.”
“New driver?”
Astrid indicated Firenze. “He’s just learning, but I believe will be able to handle it.”
The matron decided not to inquire further.
Firenze operated the controls, Fornax hovering invisibly beside him. This time the bus did not lurch. It moved smoothly into a U-turn and headed back along the highway. It would go to the intersection and get back on the correct route.
The matron stood beside Astrid, no longer shunning her company. “Your boy certainly earned his passage,” she said. “We are lucky the two of you were traveling with us.”
“I’m not sure of that,” Astrid said. “The attack may have occurred because of us. I am taking him to be adopted by a good family, but we fear there are those who don’t want that to happen.”
“Why would anyone go to such an ugly extreme to prevent an adoption? That doesn’t make sense.”
Astrid was glad not to argue the case. “It does seem far-fetched,” she agreed.
“He’s a good and talented boy.”
“He is.”
Then a child needed attention, and the matron went to take care of it. Astrid was left to mull the matter. Was a Demon trying to interfere with the adoption, so as to win a bet, or was it an unfortunate coincidence? She could not be sure, but had her suspicions.
“It’s not coincidence,” Fornax said invisibly beside her. “Kidnapping and eating the children was just a cover for the real target: Firenze. We foiled it, but there may be similar efforts involving the other children. It’s annoying.”
“It certainly is,” Astrid agreed.
The rest of the trip was routine. They reached the destination station, and the matron explained what had happened. “They were going to eat the
children!” she said indignantly.
“It happens,” the troll administrator said. “Fortunately this young man acted to foil the plot. He has earned free passage on the trollway for any future trip.”
“I should hope so,” the matron said. Then she hustled the children off to their destination.
“And you, young man,” the administrator said to Firenze. “Should you be interested in employment on the Trollway when you grow up, it will be expedited. We appreciate the way you saved the bus.”
“I was glad to help,” Firenze said modestly. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Guided by Firenze’s sense of direction, they walked to an unusual site: a sawmill. Boards and planks were neatly stacked, ready for use, but there was no sawdust. In the center was a man addressing a large log. He put his hand to it, and laser beams shot out, cutting the log into six slices. That explained why there was no sawdust: there was no saw.
Astrid approached the man. “May we talk?”
He glanced at her, and his pupils dilated. She had seen that effect before.
“Hello. I’m Laser.”
“I’m Astrid, and this is Firenze.”
“If you want boards or planks, we can make a deal. What do you have in trade?”
“Not that kind of a deal,” Astrid said.
“Just as well,” Laser said. “I’m married.”
“Yes. Firenze has a talent in some respects similar to yours: he can shoot fireworks from his head, just as you shoot lasers from your fingers. We thought you might be able to provide a good home for him.”
“Now that’s interesting,” Laser said. “How did you know we were looking to adopt a child?”
“Word circulates. So I brought him to meet you.”
“Can you cut a log?” Laser asked Firenze.
“No. I could set fire to it.”
“That won’t do. We don’t like fires. We could use a useful talent, but yours won’t do for handling lumber.” He turned to Astrid. “So no, we don’t want to adopt him. He would not be a good match.”
Astrid suppressed her disappointment, which felt almost like relief. “You are surely right. Thank you for your consideration.” She took Firenze’s hand and walked away.
They returned to the trollway station to await the next bus back. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough,” Firenze said.
“You’re good enough,” she said. “It just wasn’t the right fit. I’m sorry I hauled you all the way out here for nothing.”
“I’m not.”
“But you were put in danger! It was a bad trip.”
“It was a good trip.”
She looked at him. “Are we on the same page?”
“I love traveling with you like this. If I get adopted I won’t see you again.”
“I would visit you.”
“I’d rather be with you all the time.”
“Firenze, that’s—”
“Let me make an observation, purely as an intellectual point,” Fornax said, appearing. “The children have to be adopted, and get their portraits painted with their new families. When that is accomplished, Xanth will be saved. There’s nothing in that prophecy that says they have to be adopted out. They could be adopted in.”
“Adopted in?” Astrid asked blankly.
“You could adopt me,” Firenze said.
“But—but then what was the point of this trip across Xanth?”
“Another perhaps irrelevant observation,” Fornax said. “A journey together can be a learning experience. Your time together may have satisfied both of you that you are right for each other, when you were unwilling to believe it before, being locked into the notion that adoption out was necessary. So the point of the trip was not to locate a distant family, but to interact long enough to be able to come to that conclusion. You traveled to find the right adoptive family, and maybe you have found it: your own.”
“Can that be true?” Astrid asked.
“I hope it’s true,” Firenze said.
“You know I’m a deadly animal.”
“You know I’m a surly kid.”
“You both know you want this,” Fornax said.
Decision came upon her like a dive into a pool. “Yes, I’ll adopt you! Hold your breath; I’m going to kiss you.”
He held his breath. She kissed him. It was decided.
Chapter 13:
Squid
They made the return trip without complication, because of the trolls’ appreciation for Firenze’s assistance saving the children. Astrid still did not much like trolls, but had to admit that it depended on what type she encountered. The Trollway trolls were all right.
But who had set up the kidnapping? A hostile Demon surely, but which one? Could it be the same one who had gotten the children in trouble via the joint dream?
“As I see it, there are three prospects,” Fornax murmured. “The Demons Neptune, Mars, and Saturn. Mars and Saturn stayed clear, but Neptune bet against the survival of Xanth.”
“That’s interesting,” Astrid said. “What is his association?”
“Mass/Energy. They are really different forms of the same thing. I run afoul of his domain when I touch terrene matter and convert it to energy.”
“Could Neptune have an interest in you, as Nemesis does?”
“He’s more interested in sea creatures. But he does resent my occasional conversions of mass to energy. Now that I have in effect changed sides in the Xanth Wager, he may be more resentful.”
“So he could be trying to nullify your influence.”
“He could be.”
“Then he could have sent that dream of Daymares to the children.”
“He could. And put an idea into the minds of hungry bad trolls.”
“But we can’t prove it.”
“That is the problem,” Fornax agreed glumly.
They continued their trek. In another day they were home.
“So I will adopt Firenze,” Astrid concluded her report. “The trip we made did find him a home. It just wasn’t the one we expected.”
“But—” Art started.
She focused on him. “First I’ll marry you, of course. Then we’ll adopt him. Then you’ll paint our family portrait, using a mirror so you can see yourself to paint. We will have done our part to save Xanth from destruction. Do you have a problem with that?”
Art opened his mouth. Astrid leaned toward him and inhaled. “No,” he said, his eyes starting to crystallize. He was immune to her poison, but not to her charms.
Men were easy.
“Lovely,” Fornax remarked invisibly.
“But what about the others?” Firenze asked. “There need to be five portraits.”
“We’ll work on them, of course,” Astrid said. “The children will all be placed. Who is next?”
“Let’s Commune,” Firenze said.
The children linked hands and Communed. “Me!” Squid said, surprised. “I’ll find my Family on an island. That way. Tomorrow.” She pointed across the terrain.
“An island?” Astrid asked. “I’m sure if we go far enough in that direction we’ll come to water eventually. But we don’t want to send you swimming alone. I’ll have to go with you.”
“Sure, Aunt Astrid.”
“Crossing water,” Astrid continued. “I’m not going to swim among the fins. That means a boat.”
“There’ll be one,” Squid said. “The route line I see curves to catch it. It’s small. Maybe a canoe.”
“I’m not good with small boats,” Astrid said. “I’m more of a desert creature. I have little experience with water, and what I have is not great. I’d likely fall in and drown. That wouldn’t be much help.”
“No,” Kandy said. “You’re my friend. I won’t let you drown. Ease and I will go with you.”
“We will?” Ease asked, surprised.
Kandy turned slowly toward him so that he could fully appreciate her remarkabl
e profile. She didn’t even need to inhale; she was already his dream girl. “It’s your talent to make things easy. Like managing a canoe.”
“We will,” he agreed.
They rested a day and night. Then Astrid and Squid set off, accompanied by Kandy and Ease.
And Fornax. “Maybe this time we can get by without covert Demon mischief,” she murmured.
“I hope so,” Astrid said. “Things are complicated enough without that.”
“What’s ‘covert’ mean, Aunt Fornax?” Squid asked.
“Secret. Demons are not supposed to mess in, but sometimes they do it sneakily.”
“The way you enhanced our—”
“She’s just a bystander, dear,” Astrid said quickly with a meaningful squeeze of her hand.
“Oh. Sure,” the child agreed, remembering. “And I guess there are other bystanders.”
“But sometimes what one Demon does needs to be countered by another,” Kandy said. “To make it fair.”
In due course they reached the water. It seemed to be an inlet on a larger sea. There was the boat, caught in vines by the shore, abandoned. The children’s Communion had known. And that ability to Commune was one of the deliberately unrecognized gifts of the Demoness.
Ease hauled the boat clear. It was a dugout canoe carved from a sturdy log. “Looks seaworthy,” he said.
“But there’re no paddles,” Astrid said.
“One will do,” Kandy said, and became the board. Her clothing dropped to the ground, and Ease picked it up and put it in the canoe.
“I love it when she does that,” Squid said. “She doesn’t pretend, the way I do; she really does change.”
“She was a board when I first met her,” Astrid said. “But I was never bored.”
Squid giggled. “She’s fun.”
“She is,” Ease agreed. Astrid suspected that he meant that in a different way.
Astrid found a reasonably flat fallen branch and adapted it into a crude paddle. Then the four of them climbed into the canoe and pushed off.
“That way,” Squid said from the prow, pointing.
They paddled that way. Ease had an easy stroke that propelled the craft rapidly forward; he did have the touch. Astrid helped, so as to contribute her share.
“What’s that?” Squid asked, pointing into the sky.
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