“Now I am taking you seriously!” Imbri said. “Because my tree does, and it is sending me your essence. I had hoped that would be the case. Trees have remarkable powers, when they care to exert them.”
Good enough. “What is distracting the mares?” Jess asked.
“Somehow the Night Stallion switched places with the Day Stallion,” Imbri said. “Now the night mares are carrying sweet dreams to bad people, while the day mares bring bad dreams to undeserving people. It’s awful!”
A bulb flashed over Jess’s head. “Could that be our mission? The Good Magician suffered an accident with a forget whorl and couldn’t remember. That could account for our need for the two mares. To show us around their realms, so we could tackle the problem.”
“It might,” Imbri agreed, surprised. “But as I said—”
“You were a night mare,” Magnus said, gazing at her knees and perhaps a bit more. Jess knew he would have freaked out by now, had the nymph been wearing panties.
“I was, and still am in essence,” Imbri agreed. “But I am no longer under the dominion of the Stallion, so am not affected.”
“Could you do it again?”
Imbri stared at him, amazed. “I suppose I could, for a while. I do sometimes miss the old nights. But I can’t go far from my tree, physically, for very long; our connection would weaken and we would both suffer.”
“Suppose you had a human host?” he asked.
“My spirit in a living person? That would enable me to travel far, yes. But I would be unable to leave that person when far from my tree, and I doubt a human woman would care to be possessed for so long.”
“That’s not necessarily the case,” the peeve said with Jess’s voice. “Ula hosts Princess Kadence often enough, and they get along fine.”
“Maybe if there were a host who didn’t mind,” Imbri said. “But I’m not sure how to find one on short notice.”
“I know one,” the peeve said, and flew off.
“Maybe if the two of you can meet,” Jess said. “And try it for a minute to see if you’re compatible. Certainly it would be in a good cause.”
“Yes. I must confess that now that the notion has been broached, I am increasingly intrigued by the prospect. I love my tree, and I love Forrest Faun, but sometimes I do miss the rest of Xanth. If I could visit it—” She shook her head. “But I fear that is not realistic.”
Win approached them from the boat, the bird perched on her shoulder. “This could be fun!” she exclaimed. Evidently the peeve had told her all about it. “Maybe I could be like Ula!”
“I am no princess,” Imbri said. “In fact I’m a mare masquerading as a nymph. Only partly human.”
“A mare! I love horses! I used to wish I could be one!” Then Win sobered. “But you know, I’m a child. I’m only nine years old. You’re—”
“Several hundred,” Imbri said. “But I believe that in such cases, the older participant prevails, at least in outlook. You would be an adult in a young body. That might be awkward.”
“Like Nia!” Win exclaimed. “She loves it!”
“Our assorted talents would go with the one in charge at the moment,” Imbri said. “Within limits, such as the Adult Conspiracy.”
“Oh, phoo!”
Imbri smiled. “There may be compensations. For example, I can assume my natural mare form.”
“Yes!”
Magnus, Jess, and Imbri circled a glance. Could this actually work out?
“Why don’t you try it now,” Magnus said. “To see if you’re compatible.”
“Yes!” Win exclaimed again.
Imbri uncrossed her legs and stood. Jess nudged Magnus to prevent his freak. “Take my hand,” the nymph said to the child.
Win extended her hand to meet Imbri’s hand. They stood for a scant moment. Then Imbri dissipated into vapor and disappeared. Only Win remained.
“What happened?” Jess, cried, alarmed.
Tata’s screen flickered.
“It’s okay,” the peeve said. “Watch. Listen.”
The child’s posture and expression changed. “I am Mare Imbri,” she said. “I have taken possession, with the host’s acquiescence.”
“But Win!” Jess asked. “What about her?”
The posture and expressing changed again. “I’m still here,” Win said. “See, I’ve got my talent.” Her hair splayed forward as a gust of wind blew by her. “But I’d rather let her take it. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Uh, maybe Dell and Nia should be here,” Jess said. “In loco parentis.”
“They’re our loco parents,” Win agreed. “While we’re on the boat.”
“They’re coming,” the peeve said. “I told them, too.”
“To or too?” Magnus asked.
“Both, you nice fellow,” the bird snapped.
Sure enough, the two were approaching, along with Santo, Squid, and Myst. Only Ula was missing, and Jess realized that she must have been designated to guard the boat. They probably took turns at that, when there was need.
“Watch this!” Win said, and faded back into Imbri. Then, as the others stared in unison, she transformed into a horse.
Jess was surprised on more than one account. The mass of the mare seemed much greater than that of the child. But of course this was magic; size had little to do with it. The horse trotted around, circling the others. Then she halted. She neighed.
“She says someone can have a ride,” the peeve translated.
“Meee!” Myst exclaimed.
Dell picked her up under the shoulders and carefully set her on the back of the horse. Then the mare walked slowly in another circle. “Oooo!” Myst cried in rapture.
It did seem to be working out.
The mare halted, the child slid off, and Win reappeared. She and Myst hugged, mutually delighted.
Then Imbri reappeared. It was interesting seeing the subtle shifts in the child’s body and manner as the piloting changed. “I can go with you. But I must tell Forrest. He will need to keep an eye on my tree.”
The others remained by the tree as the horse reappeared and galloped to the other tree. “It seems we have our night mare,” Magnus said. “But the day mare may be more of a challenge.”
They watched as the horse reached the sandalwood tree and shifted to nymph form. It occurred to Jess that the wood sandals of one tree matched well enough with the clogs of the other tree; obviously they were compatible.
A faun appeared; even from this distance Jess could see his hooves. That would be Forrest. The two talked for a moment. Then the nymph hugged him tightly. In another moment the filly was back and galloping toward them.
“That’s chaste,” Magnus remarked. “Fauns and Nymphs normally celebrate much more evocatively.”
“These are more responsible ones,” Nia said. “They care about their trees.”
“Also, there are children present,” Squid said wisely.
Suddenly Jess saw the nymph in her mind’s eye. She spoke, and a little speech balloon appeared over her head. “He says okay,” it printed.
Jess glanced at the others. They looked similarly startled. It seemed they had seen the picture, too.
The dogfish’s screen flickered.
“That’s how night mares communicate without actually talking,” the peeve explained. “They send speech dreamlets.”
So it seemed.
The filly arrived and became the girl again. “Forrest understands,” Imbri said. “I am with you for these few days.”
“We got your dreamlet,” Nia said.
“It was cute,” Myst said.
“Now we need to find a cooperative day mare,” Magnus said. “Do you have any likely prospects?”
“The day mares are in the same bind as the night mares,” Imbri said. “But first: do you have a suitable host?
“Mee!” Myst exclaimed.
Imbri paused, evidently conversing internally with Win. Then she nodded. “You will do.”
Myst clapped her hands. “Goody! Will I be able to turn horsey, too?”
“Yes, if you want to.”
Suppose Win had given her sibling a bad reference? Jess wondered. No, that would never happen; these children had an extraordinary bond, and their background experience made them more responsible than ordinary children.
“But about the prospect,” Magnus prompted Imbri. “You said that both day and night mares are distracted by the exchange of stallions.”
“Yes. I know of one day mare who is more independent than most. That’s why she got banished to a bad course. She may be ready to separate from it for a while.”
“I gather the stallions run the herds,” Magnus said, “They don’t like independent mares?”
“They don’t,” Imbri agreed. “Mares are supposed to know their place. They are good for only one thing.”
“Children are present,” Nia murmured warningly. At the moment she almost looked her age.
“Delivering dreams,” Imbri concluded. “Good or bad, as the case may be.”
Nia relaxed. “So who is this filly?”
“Mairzy Doats.”
That struck Jess as an odd name. But of course she was not conversant with day mare customs.
“And where is she to be found?” Nia asked evenly. Her age and experience were showing.
“You need to understand the system. Night mares’ home turf is the surface of the moon. They have seas of the moon named after them, as I do: Mare Imbrium. Day Mares’ home turf is more challenging: the gulf course.”
“The what?”
“This is where human emotions tend to be most intense. Gulf is a game consisting of using a stick to knock a little ball into a little hole. Men seem to like it better than women. Something about balls and holes. They can get very annoyed when the ball misses the hole.”
The girls tittered. Nia shot them a warning glance. They were evidently picking up more nuance than was proper for their age.
“It sounds silly,” Magnus said.
“Devotees take it quite seriously. Courses are scattered all across Xanth and Mundania. They even have gulf tournaments.”
“To see who can stick the ball in the hole fastest?” Magnus asked.
“And who can swear the worst,” Imbri agreed. “Gulf is said to be excellent practice.”
“Where does Mairzy Doats hang out?” Nia asked.
“It’s on the fringe. It is called Abandon Hope.”
“Where geographically?”
“Midway upon the journey of a life, in a dusky wood.”
“That does not seem very specific.”
“You have to follow the dream path.”
“Because the mares deliver dreams,” Magnus said. “That does make sense.”
“Everything makes sense in its fashion,” Imbri agreed.
“Can you lead us there?” Jess asked.
“Yes,” Imbri looked around. “But it’s a day path, and night is coming. We’ll have to wait until morning.”
“Then come aboard the boat,” Nia said. “It has been a busy day. We can all use the rest.”
Imbri looked at the boat. “Is there room? You must be quite crowded already.” Then she paused, receiving another internal message. “It seems there is room.”
They walked to the boat. Soon Imbri was sharing a bedroom with Squid and Ula. She was quite impressed with the facilities. “This is almost as good as a stable.”
“Almost,” Nia agreed wryly.
Jess relaxed with Magnus and Myst in their room, before supper. “We do seem to be getting closer to our mission,” Jess said. “Assuming it is to restore the stallions to their proper habitats and roles.”
“I am wondering who or what could have exchanged the stallions,” Magnus said. “They are quite powerful entities in their own right. What could prevent them from simply returning to their home turfs?”
“And why?” Jess asked. “What possible purpose could there be in messing up the dream realms?”
“That perhaps has an answer: bad folk, who get punished by bad dreams, would want to get rid of them, so they could be bad with impunity. They wouldn’t care that good folk suffer.”
“So a bad person would have the motive,” Jess said. “Who is bad enough and strong enough?”
“Maybe Tata would know.”
They asked the robot dogfish. His screen flickered, then came up with a short list of names. THE SEA HAG. RAGNA ROC. THE GODDESS ISIS. COM PEWTER ON A BAD DAY. BUT NONE ARE PRESENTLY AVAILABLE.
“I have heard of Isis,” Magnus said. “She’s not evil, merely ambitious and sexy.”
“And I’m sure Com Pewter would not do anything like this,” Jess said.
“Which leaves us nowhere,” Magnus said. “The Hag and Ragna got banished and locked up.”
Nia knocked on their door. “Something has come up.”
“Not serious, I hope,” Jess said, concerned.
“We are docked on the ground for the nonce. I went out to harvest some fresh pizza pies for dinner—they are best when fresh—and a local villager spied me. Somehow the word has spread that we have a show on board.”
“Well, we want news to get around,” Magnus said. “It’s no secret.”
“They would like to see a show tonight.”
Magnus looked at Jess. “Why not?”
“It does serve as a kind of cover for your real mission,” Nia said. “You can travel to key places in the guise of finding new audiences for your show.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “Tell them we’ll be there in an hour.”
Jess was nervous, but kept her mouth shut. She did want to work with Magnus, and this was the way.
Nia told them. They had a quick dinner of freshly harvested pizza pies, then sailed to the village.
Jess went on deck to clear her head, as the boat sailed over the trees, and was startled. “Wasn’t the fire sail square? Now it’s round.”
“It varies according to its mood,” Win explained. She was back at the tiller, in charge so that the wind at her back could drive the ship forward. She was clearly an important member of the crew. Tata was snoozing at her feet, ready to guide her. “When Dell and Nia discovered each other, when she youthened, it turned heart shaped.”
Live and learn. The sail was evidently more than just an old flame. Jess returned to her room, hoping Magnus was lonely. Unfortunately he wasn’t; he was all business, preparing for the show. “I will ask for volunteers, then brief them behind scenes while you warm them up with your act.”
It was a completely ordinary village surrounded by beer-barrel trees, boot rear bushes, assorted pie plants, milkweeds, beefsteak tomato plants and other garden variety vegetation. There was a paved central square with room for the boat to dock.
Nia went out to set the anchor so the boat would not drift, and Jess went with her. But there was no place.
“Hello!” Nia called to the nearest man. “Maybe you can help me.”
He came over, as eager to meet her as any man was. “Hello. I’m Sam. What can I do for you?”
Nia smiled. “I’m Nia, co-proprietor of this craft, and this is my friend Jess. I can’t find a place to set the anchor. It won’t hold on this pavement.”
“Ah. I can help. My talent is to locate things that are related, such as a missing shoe. What is related to an anchor?”
“A patch of ground,” Nia said.
Sam touched the anchor, then looked around. “There, I think.”
Jess didn’t see anything, but the man went confidently to a spot a few paces away. He squatted and pried at a tile with his fingers. It was loose, and lifted away to reveal a patch of ground belo
w. Nia smiled brilliantly and bent over to drop the anchor on the patch, where it took instant hold. “Thank you so much,” she said.
Sam had almost freaked out when she leaned forward, but he recovered enough to respond. “You’re welcome.”
Jess could only envy the way Nia used her sex appeal to get help, without making a scene of it. It never would have worked for Jess.
When the villagers assembled, Magnus took over. He was in his element, thrilling the people with his mere presence. “Greetings, all! I am Magnus, Master of Ceremonies, and this is my assistant Atrocia. She’s awful.” He frowned in a manner that showed he didn’t mean it. “Now we have no regular cast of characters; we will draw on you, our esteemed audience. Our story this time will be completely original: Boy meets Girl, Boy loses Girl, Boy recovers Girl.” The audience gasped at the sheer novelty of it, already falling under his spell. He was certainly making an impression. “I need a Boy, a Girl, and several supporting players. Do I have any volunteers?”
There was an enthusiastic show of hands. Several were pretty girls who looked set to throw themselves at him the moment it was feasible. He had clearly not been fooling about that. Jess tried to stifle her burgeoning jealously.
Magnus picked a handsome young man, a pretty girl, and three indifferent folk. The girl made a lunge for him, but he deftly avoided her, and she pretended she had merely stumbled. “Now while I brief my cast, Atrocia will appall you with her story.” He took the volunteers backstage, leaving Jess to face the audience alone.
She was nervous, but depended on her curse to pull her through. She saw Sam in the audience, and focused for the moment on him. After all, they had met, in a manner. “I am Atrocia,” she said boldly. “Nobody takes me seriously.”
When she produced the manikin head, the villagers roared with laughter, including Sam. She was a success!
“I was more careful with my next boyfriend,” she continued as the humor faded out. “I did not talk to him. I gave him no chance to laugh. I stood close before his face, bent over, and flashed him broadside with my panties.” That was of course the way a girl nailed a man: the sight of her panties freaked him out so he couldn’t escape.
She paused for a full three quarters of a moment. “You have heard of projectile vomiting? Splat! Soaking my panties! I’ve washed them several times, really scrubbed them, and still can’t get the stain out.” She waited for the laughter to diminish. “Worse, that stuff burns. My butt is blistered. I can’t sit down. That’s why I’m a stand-up comedienne.”
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