Jest Right

by Piers Anthony

The door opened as Fibot approached, and somehow the doorway was large enough to admit the boat. How could that be?

  “Easy,” Frankie said, or rather it was the Goddess Isis, who could evidently read Jess’s thoughts, and understand her well enough when she chose. She was now standing beside Jess. “Fibot’s magic enables it to pass through any channel without distorting its interior. The haunted house is not large; Fibot is now small, at least in perspective, and we along with it. It’s a very nice craft.”

  They sailed into a hallway where empty shoes and gloves walked and waved about, and into a decrepit living room, except it was occupied by the dead: two walking male skeletons and a lady zombie. Jess wasn’t certain how she knew their genders, because there was no identifiable anatomical flesh on the zombie, who was pretty far gone, and no flesh at all on the skeletons. But the two seemed to be quite interested in the one, and she returned their attention.

  “She’s a bleeping flirt,” Isis murmured disdainfully.

  Jess was curious how these dead folk proposed to make out, as they seemed to have an even worse problem than Jess did in that respect. But the boat sailed on to another room, a juvenile bedroom with dolls on the floor, where a ghost was terrorizing a sleepless child. Now Jess saw a gnome with a movie camera filming the incident: this was a dream being made, for delivery to some bad child who refused to go to sleep promptly. These were actors!

  “Fascinating,” Magnus murmured. “I may never be frightened by a bad dream again, knowing how they are made.”

  “Not so,” Imbri’s speech balloon printed. “We mares carry suspension of disbelief spells that make dreams seem completely real while they are occurring. You will be frightened even though you know better.”

  Jess was suddenly more interested. “Could one of those spells nullify a curse? Make what is happening believable?”

  “Not in the waking state,” Imbri printed. “That is far too cynical.”

  “Even a day dream dissipates when a person becomes aware of it,” Mairzy printed.

  Bleep, Jess thought.

  “However, dear, I could make the performance real,” Isis said. “It is my specialty.”

  She was the Goddess of Fertility, highly conversant with the mechanisms of reproduction. She surely could do it. But then it would be as if Magnus were making love to Isis rather than Jess. That was definitely not what they wanted.

  Isis made a small obscure smile, not denying it.

  They moved on out to the real, where shadowy wild things ranged a capacious graveyard. Skeletal hands reached out of the plots, trying to grab on to the boat as it passed.

  Beyond was a moor where ghosts chased banshees, somewhat in the manner of fauns and nymphs, entertaining themselves while waiting for their next mortal customers.

  Suddenly Jess caught on. “It’s a tour! The Night Stallion is giving us a tour of the realm.” But of course nobody took her seriously.

  Next was the Slough of Despond, where sad folk sat and continually wept. But in a nook mostly out of sight a male and a female seemed to be having a tryst. It seemed the actors had their own entertainments while waiting for the next dream crafting assignment.

  And a barren plain where wolf-like creatures roamed. A man was trying to sneak past, but a dire wolf winded him and charged. The man spread his arms and flapped them, birdlike, and did manage to get into the air. But not enough; his feet were low, and the wolf snapped at them. The man yanked them out of the way just in time, but it was evident that the wolf would soon catch hold of a flailing limb and drag him down for the slaughter.

  “Dreams of flying,” Isis commented. “And of course it’s never quite high enough.”

  “It’s a very popular dream,” Imbri printed. “I delivered hundreds of them in my day.”

  “The inability to fully escape a horror,” Isis agreed. “Fundamental insecurity. That covers a wide range.”

  “I’d soon be sickened, making such dreams,” Jess said. Nobody paid attention.

  Then they came to an ancient castle, with green slime on the stone walls and cracked steps. A young woman was trying to find a place to hide, while a patchwork assembled monster slowly searched for her. “Come to me, my dear,” he called in his gravely tone. “I just want to be friendly with you.”

  Terrified, she fled her nook. Her nightie caught on a stone corner and ripped, exposing a fair amount of her nice torso, to her chagrin. She tried to fold the material back around to cover herself up, but it wasn’t very effective. As with the flying dream, however frantic the effort, it was never quite enough. The monster, spying the exposed flesh, licked his mismatched lips.

  “That would be for a bride who refuses her family’s choice in husbands for her,” Isis said. “Instead of gladly embracing the honor.”

  “But that’s horrible!” Jess said.

  “Exactly.”

  “I mean that’s not the way it’s supposed to be. A girl should have some choice in such an important matter. It’s her body. Her life.”

  “In your culture, perhaps. Not in many others. A woman is fit only to serve and please a man, no matter how badly he treats her. If she fails in that, she’s a failure to her gender, and deserves her shame.”

  “And you’re a woman!” Jess flared. “Doesn’t it absolutely repulse you?”

  Isis considered. “I am of course no ordinary woman. I believe I prefer vengeance. A woman can endlessly torment a man, if she knows how to do it. I know how.”

  “I don’t like that, either! Why can’t men and women treat each other with mutual respect and joy?”

  “But then there would be no battle of the sexes. Where is the fun in that?”

  “Fun in war between men and women? I’d much rather have them at peace.”

  The Goddess shook her head. “No wonder nobody takes you seriously. You have delusions of decency.”

  Magnus touched her hand. “I wish I could love you,” he repeated. “Then we might actually abolish some delusions.”

  Jess felt tears of appreciation and frustration. He truly was the man for her.

  The boat docked beside the castle and they got out to watch the conclusion of the dream as the cameras rolled. The monster finally cornered the distressed damsel and drew her to him as she screamed in terror and revulsion. He kissed her, and ran his clumsy paw-hands all over her trembling body while she struggled ineffectively. Then finally she fainted.

  “Cut!” the director gnome called.

  The monster let go of the woman, who it seemed wasn’t unconscious at all. “Good show,” she told the monster. “But you forgot to goose me.”

  “Oops! I’ll remember next time.”

  So it was all a carefully staged act. But the dreamer wouldn’t know that; she would wake in a cold sweat, not aware that it had stopped short of rape.

  The director turned toward the visitors. “Window shopping?” he inquired.

  “No,” Jess said, reaching for Kadence’s hand so she would be taken seriously. “I won a prize in a gulf game, and am giving that prize to Frank.”

  “My job is done,” Isis murmured, and faded out.

  The monster scratched his head. “Do I know you?”

  “No. But we need your help. I hope we can make a deal.”

  He scratched his head. He was not at all threatening here in real life, despite his ugliness. “What deal?”

  “Take us to Che Centaur, wherever he may be. In return, here is your perfect girlfriend.” Jess turned to bring forth Frankie, who was shyly hiding behind her.

  Frank’s eyes bugged, almost literally. “This lovely creature?”

  Magnus and the others kept their faces straight. Frankie was as far from lovely as it was possible to get, now that Isis was not enhancing her. But of course to the monster she was his kind of girl.

  “This lovely creature,” Jess agreed. “Her name is Frankie.
She was made for you.”

  “Hi,” Frankie said.

  “Beloved!” Frank exclaimed and swept her into his embrace. Misshapen little hearts flew out to circle them.

  It was clear it would work out. The little hearts were a sure signal.

  “We must celebrate their engagement,” the director gnome said. “Why don’t you put on a show in honor of it?

  “You know of our shows?” Jess asked, surprised. “Even here in the heart of the darkest dreams?”

  “Especially here. Did you think we would not recognize Atrocia? We love your jesting.”

  Jess looked at Magnus, her glance forming a question mark.

  “Certainly,” he agreed. “Assemble your folk for an audience and we’ll put it on.”

  “Great.” The gnome hurried off.

  Soon they were on the stage inside the old castle. There was a surprising number of creatures assembled, ranging from dwarves to giants, fairies to ghosts, zombies to skeletons, and several night mares, too. They were all actors in the bad dreams, professional folk, but it seemed they liked a show as well as anyone did. Probably they got time off to attend. The ladies of several species seemed to like Magnus personally, too.

  Magnus introduced the show and made his call for volunteers. Lo, the first to volunteer were Frank and Frankie Stein. Good enough; they would certainly do for this audience. Jess took the stage while Magnus organized the players in the background.

  “I am Atrocia,” she began. “Nobody takes me seriously.” But since for this show laughter was what was serious, she had their attention. She spoke of her several boyfriends and their problems, then went on to a string of jokes that kept them laughing. “I met a nice prospect, and asked his name. ‘You’re in charge’ he told me. ‘But I’m not in charge here,’ I protested. ‘I’m just looking for a date.’ ‘No, urine charge,’ he said, pronouncing it more carefully. And he went charging through the forest to do something unmentionable to every tree stump he found, marking his territory. I barely escaped getting marked similarly.”

  They laughed uproariously. It seemed they liked earthy humor.

  “I went to a meet market, a gathering place where folk can roam and mingle, hoping for better luck there,” she continued. “But it turned out the men were looking not to meet, but for meat, and not the kind you eat. I had found the wrong market. I barely got away, and I do mean barely, with my dignity intact.” They loved it.

  “So I made sure to find the right spot next time. They even had refreshments. But some joker had put cough-he there, and I was too smart to fall for that, so I took a different cup. And went into a fit of coughing, anyway. I couldn’t even talk to any of the men because of it. I had gotten the cough-she cup. I would have been all right with the first cup; I had outsmarted myself, which it seems is not hard to do.”

  The laughter continued.

  “So then I tried dating a policeman, a cop. But he turned out to be made entirely of copper. So I gave up on men and tried a woman named Ana. Ana Conda. But she turned out to be a snake crossbreed with the talent of the big hug.” She sighed. “So I gave up on people and got a dog. But he liked to travel. In fact he traveled by dogapult, going to visit his friend the male bovine who traveled by bullista. I couldn’t keep up with them.”

  The laughter continued. She knew that the jokes weren’t really that funny, but her curse was making her funny, and that was carrying it. She was indeed a successful jester or comedienne.

  Then Magnus was ready, and the players, and they went into the familiar but strikingly original narrative of boy meets girl, loses girl, recovers girl. It held the audience spellbound. Jess had to admit that Frank and Frankie made a fine couple, here before the creatures of bad dreams where ugliness was an asset. There was prolonged applause when they finished. It was another successful show. Magnus had real talent putting it together. But Jess knew that she was contributing significantly.

  Then it was time to go. Frank and Frankie Stein joined them on Fibot, and were give then bridal suite, by the art of Nia’s designation.

  “That was great!” Noe said. “I almost wanted to kiss Frank myself, by the end.”

  “I think that was me,” Aria said. “I’m a sucker for a good romance.”

  “What did the mares think of it?” Ula asked.

  Myst shrugged. “Mairzy says that it’s not much for a daydream. She delivers similar ones all the time. But maybe it was more novel for a night dream, where they do more horror than romance.”

  They sailed on out of the dream realm, emerging into daylight above Mount Neverest. Then they parked invisibly in the sky, resting, because they didn’t want to disturb the Franks, but couldn’t know the right direction without them.

  When Jess was alone with Magnus, she reluctantly broached something she had been thinking about. “Isis is still around somewhere, and I think not with Frankie at the moment. If I were to host her for an hour, maybe she could override the curse, and give you a phenomenal time in bed.”

  “No. I’m sure she could, but it’s you I want, Jess, and only you, not your body without you. There has to be some other way. Eventually we’ll find it.”

  “Eventually,” she agreed, loving him all the more.

  “You were fantastic in the show. They really wanted you more than me. That is, Atrocia.”

  “Oh, Magnus, I don’t want to upstage you.”

  “I’m not jealous in that way. Do your best, always.”

  “But the same thing that makes me good with an audience makes me impossible with you. If only my real romance wasn’t just as difficult as Atrocia’s romances.”

  “I wish you could be both,” he said seriously, as he was just far enough clear of her to minimize the curse. “That you could be fabulous on stage, then turn off the curse just for me, when we’re alone.”

  She nodded, agreeing. But she doubted it could ever be. If she ever found a way to abolish the curse, she would have to choose between her career, and him. She realized that she really wanted both, not one or the other. She hated even the prospect of that choice.

  In due course the Franks emerged, looking wonderfully refreshed, and Frank held forth his wrist. The compass circle pointed a direction. Win oriented the boat on it, and blew up the fire sail. They were on their way.

  The compass took them to the region of the sometimes islands. They had to wait for the right one to appear. There was nothing but open water, but Frank’s wrist compass pointed steadily to it.

  While they waited, they relaxed. The two princesses were both a bit horse crazy, as girls of that age were, and were getting rides on the two mares. The four hosts had no objections, being girls of that age themselves. The others sat on the deck and watched.

  Now they decided to have a race across the water. Kadence was on Imbri, while Aria was on Mairzy. The princesses, being girls, had already discovered how to change their hair and eyes to fit their moods. Kadence, on the black horse, had dark hair and eyes, while Aria, on the white horse, had golden hair and eyes. They were a beautiful sight as they sped over the gentle waves, the light running neck and neck with the dark, hair and tails streaming back.

  “Those young girls are going to become attractive to men before you know it,” Nia said wisely. “Do you agree, Dell? Dell?”

  “Oh, sorry. Did you say something? I was watching the girls.”

  They both laughed together. Jess realized that they were teasing each other. If only she could have a relationship like that with Magnus!

  Then Squid and Santo were riding, looking exactly like normal children. How deceptive appearances could be!

  And finally Frank and Frankie were riding reacting just like children. Well, why not? How much actual fun had they had in their monster lives?

  “Ho!” the peeve called. “Land ahoy!”

  And so it was. The island was slowly fazing in. But there was something
odd about it. The rocky shoreline was dark brown, and smelled of chocolate.

  “Can this be right?” Jess asked.

  Tata’s screen flickered. He too could take her seriously when he wanted to.

  “Yes, it is a chocolate island,” the peeve translated. “With its traditional guardian: the Chocolate Moose.”

  Now they saw the statue of the great stag standing there with his widely spreading horns. He too was made of chocolate.

  “This has to be it,” Nia said. “Let’s tag up before it fades out again.”

  The fire sail puffed alight in a flame-shaped configuration. Win guided the boat onto the island and to a landing beside the statue. The peeve flew up to perch on an antler. “Howdy, my deer. Mind if I poop on your feces-brown face?”

  The head twitched, flicking the bird off with a squawk of surprise. It wasn’t a statue!

  Jess couldn’t help laughing. One seldom saw the peeve caught by surprise.

  “A real chocolate moose,” Dell said appreciatively. “Looking good enough to eat.”

  “And here I thought it was spelled mousse,” Nia said. “Shows all I know.”

  “I thought that was a kind of mouse,” Myst said.

  Tata trotted up. The moose lowered his head. They sniffed noses. The moose made a grunt.

  Tata’s screen flickered. The peeve flew in to read it. “Welcome to Chocolate Island, home of the Chocolate Alchemist,” the bird translated. “Where is found the finest chocolate in Xanth.”

  “I’ll say,” Win said, picking up a chocolate stone and chewing on it.

  “The Chocolate Alchemist?” Nia asked. “I never heard of that. We’re looking for Che Centaur.”

  The dogfish’s screen flickered. “The Chocolate Alchemist processes all kinds of chocolate. He started on a fifty-foot diameter rocky projection in the sea, but there were so many tailings as he worked that now it’s an entire island, and still growing. When he melts some, it flows like lava.”

  “Chocolate lava?” Dell asked, licking his lips.

  “Che Centaur is here, looking for chocolate truffles.”

  “I thought those grew underground,” Nia said. “And got sniffed out by pigs.”