“Do not be concerned,” Sydelle said. “You are handsome in your natural state.” He was no such thing, but Harriet and I kept our mouths shut, and Henrietta didn’t care; she wore no clothing anyway.
“I am?” I could practically see the thoughts forming in his head, even without telepathy. The telepathy confirmed it: rutting billy goats were rampant.
“Do you know I could appear to be your size?” Sydelle said.
“You could?” That prospect excited him.
“And I will, in due course, if you behave and give us your best effort.”
That promise bid fair to transform his attitude. Evidently fidelity to his wife was not part of his makeup. “I will do my best.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Harriet nodded. She was more than satisfied to have the sorceress’ seductive attention directed Joe’s way instead of mine.
I was satisfied too. Whatever worked. Especially since the sorceress was supporting my supposed leadership.
Sydelle tossed Joe’s clothing to him, and he donned it, minus the lost underwear. One down.
“Now you, Carl,” I said briskly.
“Me,” Carl Cruise agreed. He had been intrigued and diverted by Sydelle’s little (big?) show and by the manifestation of the dragon; Harriet and I had been reading his unshielded mind. “I’ve got magic too?”
“Yes you do,” I said. “We just have to find out what it is.”
Joe West made a mental shrug. I read his mind: he wasn’t partial to blacks, not because of racial prejudice, but because few of them outside of show business had his kind of money. He knew that Carl had once made real money, but then allowed corrupt handlers to dissipate it, and he viewed that with contempt. He would have preferred to be the corrupt handler to siphon off that money, instead of letting it go to waste.
“It relates to motion,” Sydelle said. “It’s extremely powerful. That’s all I was able to glean.”
“Well, I was a running back,” Carl agreed. “I could move my body pretty good. But that wasn’t magic.”
“Your magic may be an enhancement of that,” I said. “How well can you move here?”
“I dunno. My joints ain’t the same anymore.” He tried a short sprint, and exclaimed in amazement. “They’re better! I can move like I used to! This is great!”
“But not magic,” I said. “It’s just the normal enhancement of the dream.”
“Joe, what are your thoughts?” Sydelle asked.
Thus prompted, Joe had to put his mind to it. He wanted the sorceress’ continuing favor, for other than monetary reason, an unusual state for him. “What about real motion?” he asked. “Like seven league boots or teleportation?”
I pounced on that. “Teleportation! Conjuring yourself elsewhere with just the force of your mind. Can you do that, Carl?”
“I dunno,” Carl repeated. “How is it done?”
“Let’s start simple,” I said. “Can you jump across the patio?”
“How?”
“Just wish you were there,” Harriet suggested.
“Okay, sure.” He vanished.
Startled, we all peered at the spot where he had stood. Had he turned invisible?
“Over here,” Carl called from behind us.
He was standing across the patio.
“Very good, Carl,” Sydelle said, smiling as if this were routine. “Now can you return?”
“I guess,” Carl said from his original location. There had been no implosion or explosion of air coming or going; he simply reappeared. That was quality magic.
“Okay,” I said, taking my cue from Sydelle and playing it cool. “You can teleport. Let’s explore the parameters. Can you go any distance, or is it limited to short range?”
“I know that,” Carl said. “When I ran, I knew to watch my feet, ’cause a misstep could break a leg. When I jumped, you know, ported, I went where I could see. If I didn’t I might wind up in a rock or a tree, and that’d be messy. I gotta know where I’m going.”
“That makes sense,” I agreed. “Same way you wouldn’t dive into a pool without knowing how deep the water was.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you go somewhere out of sight?” Joe asked. “If you know where it is?”
“Sure. I can close my eyes and go back where I was.” Carl did so.
“So it’s not seeing it,” Joe said. “It’s knowing it.”
“Yeah.”
“But if you go to one place first, the old fashioned way, by foot,” I said, “then later you could return there, even if it was far away?”
“I think so. That feels right.”
“So if we sneaked into the king’s castle, and were caught, you could zip back here?”
“Yeah.”
“Next question,” Joe said. “Can you take anyone else with you?”
That was a sharp question. Joe was coming through, now.
“Maybe. I dunno.”
“Take me,” Harriet said, stepping up to him.
He was slightly taken aback. “You sure, lady?”
“No,” she confessed. “But it’s important that we know.”
“Okay, I’ll try.” Carl put a hand on her arm. Both vanished.
We turned and looked. There they were, across the patio.
“Well, now,” I said. “We may have instant transportation.”
We experimented, and discovered that Carl could convey anyone who was touching him when he jumped, as he put it. Even Sydelle. Even the whole group of us. There did not seem to be a mass limit. The experience was a bit disorienting, we agreed; one moment we were standing in one place, then the next instant we were standing in another. No motion sickness. It was like stepping through an invisible door and seeing the scenery change.
“I think we’ve got our talents,” I said. “Now let’s plan our campaign. I’m thinking of sneaking into the king’s castle, as I mentioned, abducting the king, and bringing him back here to be dealt with. All we need to do is get Carl close to him. The dicey part will be doing that. Any feedback?”
They looked at me, considering.
Chapter 16:
Castle
It was late.
We were all eating a magically prepared dinner, thanks to Sydelle’s considerable talents. Now, as we sat around her oversized wooden table—at least, oversized to us—and feasted on corn on the cob the size of fireplace logs, Joe spoke up. “If you can come to us in our dreams, and bring us to this God-forsaken place, create this delicious meal, and even shrink down to our size...” he trailed off after that, raising his eyes hopefully, “then why on earth did you need to bring four puny humans and a chicken to your land?”
Crudely and rudely stated, but the man had a point.
The sorceress gave the two newest members of our party the rundown on her “condition.” Her condition being, of course, that she only had a simulation of a head. The real deal was elsewhere, awaiting a return to her body when all was safe.
“Unfortunately,” she said, summing up, “it’s not safe to do so now. Fetching my head would put my sister at great risk. Not to mention, the restoration of my head takes intricate and meticulous magic. One false step and...”
“You would be dead for real,” I finished.
“Exactly. My magic is limited. What you have seen now is only a portion of what I can do.”
“You are some woman,” said Joe, eyeing her appreciatively from over his massive cob of corn. It was evident that it wasn’t her head that was his primary interest.
She ignored him. “I am operating at only a fraction of my normal self. Thus, I am a liability. My reflexes are off, and that would prove fatal in a life-or-death situation. Of course, I’ve known all along that for me to fulfill the prophecy, I would have to ‘die’. Or simulate death.”
“But why us?” Joe said, dropping the corn with a clatter. He reached for an oversized wooden spoon and proceeded to struggle with some mashed potatoes. Carl reached over and scooped the spuds out with one h
and, splattering them on the con man’s plate. “I mean look at us. And look at you.” And he did look at her, for a long moment or two. “Surely there were others in this land who could help you. Others more suitable. What gives?”
More good questions. Joe obviously saw things from every angle. He was used to making deals, deals that were in his favor. Obviously, he didn’t like the deal he’d found himself in the middle of. Still, his questions were relevant, and had occurred to me as well. I just hadn’t had time to stop and ponder them. This dinner was as good a time as any, especially as we had decided to storm the castle at night, and had a few hours to kill.
Sydelle nodded, acknowledging his concerns. I noted that she hadn’t eaten, and I suspected I knew why: she didn’t have a head. At least, not a real head. I wondered how she derived her nourishment. Perhaps through magic?
“The reason is simple. Many in this kingdom do not posses magical qualities. Some do, but it’s rare. The king does, which is why he rules. Sadly, he misuses his gifts.”
“But you have magic, too,” said Harriet.
Sydelle nodded her fake head, after only the smallest delay. I was reminded of a slow computer. Or perhaps a keyboard with a delay; You press the keys, then after a half second the word appears on the screen. Such was the case with Sydelle. She was truly relaying information from her real head to this fake one.
My life is weird, I thought, shaking my own head as I hefted a biscuit the size of a pillow. I lathered butter and jam on it, and took a healthy bite. Delicious.
“So we are...special?” asked Carl.
“Very special,” said Sydelle, after a moment’s delay. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t.”
“Even the damn chicken?” said Joe. He pushed aside his plate and unbuttoned his pants and rubbed his slightly rotund belly.
“I’m a hen,” said Henrietta hotly. “There’s a difference.”
“There is?”
“Yes. And I have already proven my worth. I got your weaselly behind here, didn’t I?”
“True,” said Joe, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eying the invaluable hen. “So what’s the difference?”
“A chicken,” said Henrietta haughtily, “can be male or female. A hen is only an adult female.”
“Well, excuse me.” He laughed and eyed the hen some more, and I knew we would have to keep an eye on him.
Don’t worry, came Sydelle’s words, for us, not Joe. I won’t let him hurt or take Henrietta.
That was a relief. Although Henrietta was cantankerous at times, I didn’t want to see the hen fall into his hands. Surely he would abuse her for his own gain. I hated that thought.
After dinner, we all settled into various corners of the big home, whose secret entrance was within an oak tree. Sydelle, Carl and Joe sat together, as she gave the newcomers further instruction on the history of the land and our roles here. Then Carl went off to sleep on a pillow, leaving Joe with Sydelle, who, I realized by his gaze and manner, now appeared to him to be his size. She was paying him off for his cooperation. Henrietta pecked for crumbs around the table. That left Harriet and me to lounge on a straw-filled cushion along the far side of the big room.
She held my hand and snuggled next to me. I didn’t want to move from this spot. I most certainly didn’t want to take down an evil king, and risk all of our lives.
We gave her our word, thought Harriet, as my own sleepy thoughts weren’t hidden. She needs our help.
True.
And remember, once we fulfill our obligation, we can live here, in peace, in something close to heaven on earth. Now she looked at me, her eyes bright and round in the muted firelight. Once this is over, I will be yours. All of me.
Okay, now that was a dream come true.
Now I just needed to figure out a way for us to stay alive long enough to realize that dream. I hugged her tighter and thought long and hard about what we must do.
Chapter 17:
Rats!
Night fell all too rapidly for my taste. Both my bladder and my gut were uncomfortably full. I rolled off the cushion and stood. Where was the—?
Sydelle caught my eye across the room and nodded toward another corner. She knew what I needed, of course, though I was shielding my thoughts. Harriet and I went there, and found a giant chamber with a smaller annex: privy seats of our size. How thoughtful of the sorceress! I let Harriet go first while I faced away; then she did the same for me. This was not a flush toilet, merely a board with a hole in it, over a slanting floor leading somewhere I did not want to go. Regardless, it sufficed; soon my bloat was gone.
Now all I needed was a genius notion how to infiltrate the king’s castle without being seen or heard. Nobody had told me that being a leader was so hard on the brain. There was no load off my mind.
And I got a flash of inspiration. I knew how to get into the castle!
“I know that look,” Harriet said. “You got an idea.”
“I got the poop,” I agreed.
“Just so long as it doesn’t stink.”
We returned to Sydelle and the others. “Are we ready for our mission?” I asked them.
“Enlighten us, O exalted leader,” Joe said sarcastically. His marvelous afternoon with the sorceress had not reformed his attitude toward the rest of us.
I might have been annoyed, but I knew that what I said next would set him back. “We need a way to enter the castle without being spied. The regular routes won’t do; there will be guards at the front and side entrances, and watching the sky, even at night. Maybe dogs, too, to sniff us out. We don’t want to mess with guards or dogs.”
I paused. They waited. They knew I hadn’t really said anything yet.
“So we’ll use the back door. The one nobody will be checking.”
They still waited.
“The sanitary facility,” I explained. “In other words, the sewer system.”
Now I got a reaction. “Oh, shit!” Carl said, appropriately.
“That stinks!” Joe said, wrinkling his nose.
“Exactly,” I agreed, pretending to be oblivious to their aversion. “Nobody goes near the poop by choice. Only the sewer personnel, who are surely pariahs to the regular gentry. They probably check it once a week and stay clear the rest of the time. Henrietta will fathom their schedule so they won’t be a problem.”
“I can do that,” the hen agreed. “I can verify their last tour.”
“Also the private access,” I said. “It will be masked or concealed so as not to affront the sensitivities of the regulars. You can check the construction of the castle, way back when, and get the layout. Finding it should be no problem.”
“No problem,” Henrietta agreed. “In fact, there should be some tasty bugs.”
“Mouth watering,” Joe said grimly.
“It should be in the swamp behind the castle,” I said. “Near their septic drainage field. There has to be one, because giants surely have bushels of crap to process, and they don’t want their water supply contaminated.”
“Indeed,” Sydelle agreed with a smile.
“Are there any questions?” I asked, enjoying their continued discomfort. They knew that if they rejected my plan, they’d have to nominate another leader, who might have no better smelling one. They knew they were stuck with it.
There were no questions.
“In that case, let’s march. Sydelle, for this I think you need to remain here, with a cage for the king and your magic to keep him in it.” The giantess nodded. “Carl, you’ll be with us, but first you need to zero in on that cage so you can teleport us all there together from the castle. When we arrive, Sydelle will cast a spell over us all to make us sleep, but she’ll release us as soon as the king is properly secured.” Carl nodded, and went to zero in on the cage.
“Joe, you will accompany me up front, and if we encounter a dog or anything, you will turn dragon and toast it on the snoot. In fact, maybe you’d better turn dragon at the outset, to be ready.”
Joe obligingly become the dragon. It wasn’t that he liked me, but that what I said made sense.
“Henrietta, you will fly ahead and orient on the access. Harriet, you can bring up the rear, and zap anything that tries to come after us. Understand, folks, I hope that nothing spies us, but we need to be prepared, just in case.” Then I thought of something else. “The king’s telepathic. Joe and Carl, you need to learn mind shielding.”
“We know it,” Carl said, returning. “Sydelle taught us this afternoon.”
Ah. That explained why I hadn’t picked up on Joe’s mental state as he trysted with Sydelle.
“Now you can’t read my mind when I think you’re a walking talking turd,” Joe said, assuming man-form for that speech.
“Good enough,” I agreed. “Because I probably wouldn’t have liked to hear you think that. But there’s more reason for mental silence: because those guards and hounds may locate us by our minds as readily as by our bodies, or at least the king will. We need to travel without lights and with our minds closed. That means we won’t be able to communicate with each other mentally either, but it’s the only safe way. We’ll signal each other, and whisper if we need more than that. If we get caught, all bets are off; dragon and hen should fly away, and the rest of us will have to fight as well as we can, doing our electric shock and hotfoot magic. Remember, this ain’t beanbag. Are we ready?”
They were ready.
We set off walking town the valley slope toward the castle, but veering into the surrounding lowland, following Henrietta’s flight. She went ahead, out of sight, but looped back to indicate the direction. It wasn’t bad, actually; the ground was firm and there was little brush.
Until we came to the river. I had forgotten about that. Damn! Was there a bridge? Was it guarded?
Henrietta led us to it, and it wasn’t guarded. There was her sense of the past, again; she knew when it would be clear. Phew! It was a stone ramp with a wooden center section arching above the dark water.
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