“I will try to earn this,” Dale said, moved.
In the afternoon Liverwart, Nadia, and Dale set off for the locale of the giantesses. Benny and Virtue took over Nadia's duties at the inn, serving and entertaining the customers. They even did a little dance, a sort of beauty and the beast, which was warmly received. Folk were getting used to Benny's new appearance.
And one of those customers was Search, the purple gnome with wings. Benny froze in amazement. “I—what are you doing here?” he asked inanely.
“Do not be concerned,” Search replied. “The others here are not perceiving this dialogue at all. We are private.” Because no one saw Search unless he chose to be seen.
Benny, knocked off his mental equilibrium, tried to be funny. “I thought the protector had no real form.” But it came out querulous rather than humorous.
“This is true,” Search said. “I can take on many forms. I am using the one that is familiar to you. I use other forms to be familiar to other folk. My truest and original form is far beyond anything the sentient races can imagine.”
“It is?” Benny continued to flounder, not knowing what to make of this. Why should this divine person brace him here in the tavern? His mind was clear; he wasn't even drinking the ale, just serving it.
For answer, Search shifted into a dazzling spiral of light that bathed the whole room with fluorescing patterns of color. This became a star going gloriously nova, then a slowly turning galaxy of scintillating constellations. Benny had no knowledge of such things, yet he recognized them as he saw them. He stood transfixed by the sheer wonder of the scene.
The images coalesced back into the gnome. “Now you understand,” Search said.
“Now I believe,” Benny said. He had once been skeptical, and was no more. “But why are you coming to me?”
“You and yours have business to accomplish,” Search said. “I thought I should let you know.”
Benny could not imagine what business. “Uh—will I ever see you again?” Suddenly that was extremely important. “I mean, in this life?”
“Yes, though perhaps not in a familiar form. I will come to you at need, as defined by me, to see that you are able to accomplish my designs.”
“Uh--” But he stopped, because Search had faded out. He was back with the customers, who were impatient for their ale.
Benny remained confused, but also reassured. His hitherto somewhat aimless life was assuming some meaning. That, plus Virtue, was all he needed.
Epilogue
The Pawben awoke from his reflections almost immediately upon feeling something rest on his right shoulder. In his years since coming to Golden Mulch Wood, he’d never known bandits to prowl in the area, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone had come upon him unawares. With a speed that deceived his years, he dropped his pipe and grabbed at what he thought was a man’s hand, thinking to pull him around and throttle him to the floor. Instead, he heard a squeal and saw a mass of grey fur go flying into the corner of the room. The huge rat then scurried off, back out the front door. Pawben heard the cackling of the little boy he had seen playing with the rat earlier, and turned upon him.
“Gotcha!” The boy yelled. He turned on his heels and ran back out the door to find his companion.
“He’s a Beranger, alright.” Pawben laughed. The boy certainly had the mischief of his grandfather Dale.
Back at the window, he resumed munching on the roll he’d started earlier. Remembering made him hungry. Feeling a twinge of pain, he rubbed his cheeks where the remnants of the nearly forgotten scar had been. Time and magic had healed it significantly since Dale Beranger had given it to him in centuries prior, but occasionally a spark of pain would shoot across his face, and he was never quite able to forget the horrors of his past.
“If Virtue could see this old codger, now.”
He thought again of the countless friends and companions: Dale, Liverwart, Nadia, Laughing Jack, Virtue, and even annoying little Nap. They were all gone now, some passing peacefully in old age, while others had perished in battle and sickness. It was too much to think of all at once, but he found it necessary to occasionally ponder the events of his past, his memory of which was helped by the magical pipe Cycleze had once used. He had to remember. He had to remember because Dale’s son, on his deathbed, had made Pawben promise to watch over the little boy, his son, and to keep him safe. Pawben had adventured in many worlds since the events in this most recent flashback, and thought this present one to be the most peaceful in which to raise the boy. Maybe one day he would take the kid back to the land of his forefathers, but the later memories of what befell there were far too painful to take the boy back now. For an instant he remembered Search, and the things he had said. Pawben hadn’t seen Search since that day in the Fox Den, or at least if he had, Search had chosen to remain anonymous. Either way, Pawben remembered the things he had taught him, and he had never lost faith in the Protector.
“Is it that time, already?” Pawben said as he noticed the faintest glimmer of a setting sun through the forest.
He had promised to join Toadstoole Tortoisse that afternoon for dinner and a fine game of checkers, and Pawben hated being late. He finished the roll, not wanting to be wasteful, and grabbed his traveling pouch. It would take a few hours to get to Toadstool’s, and he’d probably stay the night.
“Come, boy! We’re going to Toadstool’s for dinner!” he yelled. The little boy came scurrying around the corner, the huge rat hot on his heels.
“Can Flack come too?” the boy asked, indicating the rat.
“I suppose, but don’t let Toadstool catch you feeding him from the table again. He doesn’t like that.”
The three walked out onto the main path, the Pawben walking with his arm around the boy, and the rat on the little kid’s shoulder. Almost like a giant, and a man, and a bat, so long ago.
“Tell me about Flack again, Pawben.” The boy said.
“Flack? You found that little rascal digging in my turnips, or have you forgotten?” Pawben’s memory had failed him briefly.
“No, I mean the other Flack, the one you named the rat after.”
Pawben’s memory sparked back to life, and sorrow filled his heart when he realized whom the boy was speaking of.
“Another time, lad,” he said, “another time.”
Author's Note: Piers Anthony
I have done more than 30 book collaborations over the years. Why do I get into them? As a challenge, and for the sake of a given story, and sometimes just to help another writer. Virtue Inverted is an example of the last. Kenneth Kelly, a Florida author of the science fiction novel Trespassing Through Time, had a fantasy project that had blocked up. These things happen; I once wrote two novels in a trilogy, Omnivore and Orn, then got hung up on the third and waited six years until inspiration came for OX. So I said to Ken send it to me, and I would unblock it. What arrogance made me say that about a book I had never seen? Well, I have an asset I was pretty sure Ken lacked: more than half a century of commercial writing experience. I'm a slow learner, but in that amount of time I have pretty well learned how to fix a problem project. So he sent it, and I did.
Who did what? He started it, and summarized the rest, and I filled in what was needed to make it complete. I felt it was weak on romance, so I enhanced that aspect. Virtue Vampire not only became a more important character, she contributed to the title. I tried to make her the kind of vampire any normal man would want for a girlfriend or wife, startling as that might seem before you get to know her. It will be for the readers to decide whether I succeeded.
As for me personally, I am at this writing 80 years old but not at all ready to go gentle into that good night. I am agnostic, and have no expectation of any life beyond this one, in contrast to my collaborator, so I'm trying to make this life count. I live on my small tree farm with my wife of 59 years and seldom go more than 30 miles from home. I am known primarily for my Xanth fantasy series, despite having no personal belief in magic, and my int
erests are hardly limited to that. Again, as I write this, the New Horizons space mission is sending back pictures of the planet Pluto and its large moon Charon, and I am quite glad to be alive to see them. Back in my day, Pluto was Mickey's Mouse's dog, but I was always a fan of the planet too, and wrote a story about it in sixth grade. So my life still has things to pick up on.
Readers who want to know more of me can find me at my web site, www.HiPiers.com, where I run a monthly blog-type column calculated to aggravate anyone with any reasonable wit, and an ongoing survey of electronic publishers and related services, with no holds barred feedback on good and bad publishers, intended to assist writers who have dreams without publishers. I remember how it was; from the time I made my decision to be a professional writer, it took me a college BA in creative writing and eight years to make my first sale. When I fought to get an honest accounting from my first novel publisher I got blacklisted for six years. I'm not sure it's easier now, and time has not mellowed me much.
Virtue Inverted was proofread by Scott M Ryan and Anne White.
Now get on to the next Author Note to meet Ken Kelly.
Author's Note: Kenneth Kelly
I was in 10th grade when I read my first Xanth novel: Demons Don’t Dream. Ever since then, I have been a huge fan of Piers Anthony and fantasy in general. I’ve been writing and telling stories all my life. Even before I could write, I would tell my parents tales, and they would write them down for me. It is a true passion, but I know that my skills in the craft aren’t perfect. Thus, I asked Mr. Anthony to help.
I earned a BA in English Professional Writing from Saint Leo University in St. Leo, Fl in 2013, and shortly after published my first completed novel, Trespassing Through Time. After reading my book, Mr. Anthony allowed me to send him an unfinished manuscript that would become Virtue Inverted. I had begun the book in 12th grade of high school, and although my skills in writing still need work, I quickly realized that this old draft needed a major overhaul. After collecting dozens of handwritten chapters and notes – some of which I had forgotten about – I played around with the characters and story, and outlined the rest for Mr. Anthony. I am not ashamed to admit that for me to have tried and typed the rest would have been complete disaster. Piers Anthony gave me a chance when I doubt many other novelists would. God bless him for that.
Mr. Anthony is Agnostic, and I consider myself a Christian, as some have probably surmised from the contents of this book. My intentions for adding these themes were not done in hopes of converting Mr. Anthony or any readers, although I would be happy if the themes in this book helped some in this aspect. I included these ideas because my beliefs are a large part of who I am, and because I want the readers to know me personally. For many, this book will be nothing more than good fiction. In reality, that’s all it is. But, I hope at least a few people will find something more in these words, as I found in Mr. Anthony’s writings.
Despite the shabbiness of its original draft, I put a ton of work into this book, which Mr. Anthony helped build into the finished product. I thank him, the readers, and countless others for inspiring and motivating me to continue my writing, especially Mr. Schism from Plant City High School, who in my 12th grade English class read the book’s initial chicken scratch. I hope Mr. Anthony and I remain friends for many years to come, and that he will be gracious enough to let me work with him on future projects.
About the Authors
Piers Anthony is one of the world's most popular fantasy authors, and a New York Times bestseller twenty-one times over. Anthony is the author of the Xanth series, as well as many other best-selling works. Piers Anthony lives with his wife in Inverness, Florida.
Kenneth Kelly is a 26 year old native of Plant City, Fl. He has been an avid writer his whole life, and has had a number of short works published during grade school and college. He has a Bachelors degree in English Professional Writing from St. Leo University. He is the author of 'Trespassing Through Time.' Outside of writing he is a 3rd degree black belt in Tar Kwon Do.
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