Ghost Writer in the Sky

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Ghost Writer in the Sky Page 31

by Anthony, Piers


  “Why yes,” Dolin agreed. “I have come to know her too. I have thought of her only as a friend, but I could readily love her. But I think I need to know first why she has chosen not to speak of this. She’s a sensible person; she must have excellent reason, and it may be that I should heed that reason.”

  “I will turn the body over to her,” Tara said. “She has to speak for herself now.” She did so, becoming a passenger in the body.

  Monica burst into tears.

  “My dear!” Emerald said, hurrying across to embrace her. “What is it? I’m sure we all support you, and will help you in any way we can. Certainly I speak for myself. You are my closest friend.”

  Monica only cried harder.

  They all grouped around her comfortingly, and slowly she subsided and was able to speak. “It is true: I love Dolin. It came upon me gradually as I got to know him better, but it is complete. I wish I could marry him.”

  “And you should,” Emerald said. “Not only will it complete your love, it will grant him status in this reality. What could possibly prevent that?”

  “You,” Monica said.

  “Me? My dear, I do not oppose it. I think it’s wonderful.”

  “It’s that your mission is overwhelmingly important. The humans and the dragons are inevitably trending toward war. That will be horribly destructive. It has to be avoided. Only you can stop it, by marrying Dolin. I know you don’t love each other, and are not romantically compatible, but this is more important than love. You understand each other and will get along well enough, and your union will avert the war. I can’t let my private happiness interfere with that.”

  “Oh, my,” Dolin said. “I have to agree with you, intellectually.”

  “Well, I don’t!” Emerald flared, a bit of smoke puffing out of her nose. “You can love her, Dolin. I know you can. It can be a wonderful union. I can go find some other prince to marry. If I’m lucky, he will be tolerant and let me have my girlfriends. And the war will still be stopped.”

  “He would not be as tolerant as I would be,” Dolin said. “I know you, Emerald, and respect you, and love you in my fashion. You would be better off with me.”

  “And what of Monica?” Emerald asked. “You and she are my closest friends. How could I ever deny her love, by taking it myself when I don’t have to?”

  Tartan stepped in. “Dolin, use your talent. What is the right thing?”

  The prince considered, then looked surprised. “It is to marry Monica.”

  “See?” Emerald said. “I knew that was best.”

  “How is it best?” Monica asked. “How can hurting my friend ever be right?”

  Mera strode forward. “I believe it is my turn. Bear with me while I explain.”

  The others looked at her. What did she have to do with this?

  “Please do, Aunt Mera,” Dolin said. “I know that you want nothing but my welfare.”

  “No. I want two things. Your welfare, and mine. Your welfare is with Monica, who can indeed secure your place here and give you the kind of love you will not find elsewhere. Your marriage to her will complete that aspect of my situation.”

  “Oh, I wish it could!” Monica breathed.

  “Now drop the other shoe,” Tartan told Mera. “What of Emerald and the war?”

  Mera turned to Emerald. “I love you.”

  “You what?” Emerald asked, astonished.

  “I did not marry in my home time, long ago, because I could not bear the thought of marrying a prince, however worthy he might be.”

  “But why not?”

  “For the same reason you can’t. I am a lesbian princess. When I met you, Emerald, I knew I had to pursue you, to find out if happiness was possible. That is why I joined your party, and helped you all I could. My alternate who is here in spirit could have seen you through, Dolin, but only my personal presence could accomplish my own dream. As I came to know you, Emerald, and to love you, I knew that it was possible. Except for two things.”

  “Two?” Emerald asked faintly.

  “First I needed to know whether women could marry in Xanth. The Book of Lost Answers gave me that answer, thanks to some other person’s question.”

  “Lesbians can marry!” Emerald exclaimed. “I remember. It was one of the irrelevant answers.”

  “So I asked a different question, concealing my interest,” Mera said. “That gave me half of what I needed.”

  “And the other half?”

  “That my nephew Dolin be safely settled elsewhere. If he could not find another suitable princess in time—the limit of our visit here was one month—then he would have to marry you, to secure both your needs. I could not take that chance from him, and there was no point in advertising my own orientation as long as my nephew’s fate remained in doubt. But now that he has found Monica, whom I know to be worthy, I can focus on my own desire. Emerald, marry me. It will secure the truce even if you don’t love me yet.”

  Emerald stood amazed. “This is so sudden! How can I be sure?”

  “How can I be sure?” Dolin echoed.

  “Of course it’s new to you, Dolin and Emerald,” Amara said. “All this time you thought you were stuck with each other.”

  “Not stuck!” the two said almost together. Then they dissolved into relieved laughter.

  “I don’t know why I never thought of you, Monica,” Dolin said. “You were right beside my nose.”

  “Because it was mostly Tara in her body,” Amara said. “And she kept her mouth mostly shut when Tara was away. Because she was trying to protect her friend Emerald.”

  “And I never thought of you, Mera,” Emerald said. “I wish I had.”

  “Because you did not know her nature,” Amara said. “None of us did.”

  “It was my secret,” Mera said. “Until I could be sure of Dolin’s placement.”

  “So there we were,” Tartan said. “With our problems ready to be solved within our own group, had we but the wit to realize it.”

  “So why are we discussing it, and taking no action?” Mera asked.

  Amara laughed. “Here are your orders: Dolin, kiss Monica. Mera, kiss Emerald. Then you will know.”

  “It is the right thing,” Dolin agreed. “We must do it, Aunt Mera.”

  Still they hesitated.

  “Now,” Amara said sharply. “We need to have this settled. Even the Goddess has been seriously concerned.”

  Thus pushed, Dolin advanced on Monica, and Mera advanced on Emerald. They kissed their targets simultaneously. Two big hearts flew out, orbited the lovers, and crashed into each other, fracturing into a dozen little hearts. Now there was no doubt.

  Then the two couples disengaged. Dolin hugged Emerald. “Thank you for being ready,” he said.

  Mera hugged Monica. “Thank you for rescuing us.”

  Then Monica and Emerald hugged, and dissolved into tears. These were not unhappy ones.

  Once things settled down, Dolin and Monica were safely holding hands, and so were Mera and Emerald. “There are things about you, Mera,” Emerald said, “that remind me of things I like about Dolin, now that I am free to accept them.”

  “We are closely related,” Mera said.

  Then Amara thought of something. “Mera, must you return to Reality Number Two? I don’t think Dolin can return there.”

  “No problem,” Mera said. “I am not the Mera who brought Dolin here. I am the one who came physically to R#3, and crossed to R#1 with the rest of you. My self of R#2 is already on her way home with the good news about Dolin. Princess Taplin will be pleased.”

  “But Mera of R#2 can’t marry Emerald. Isn’t she heartbroken?”

  “No. We have been in touch. She is relieved that Dolin has found his princess, and, well, she—” Mera blushed. “She is still with me, in spirit, visiting. Now that contact has been established,
we are able to retain it despite being in different realities. I hope you don’t mind, Emerald.”

  “You mean I’ll be making love to two of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will love you both. Mera #2 started this whole business. I’ll always be grateful to her.”

  Dolin looked at Monica. “Speaking of spirits: you mean I am kissing Tara?”

  “The bleep!” Tartan swore. Tara of course was staying out of it.

  They all dissolved into another round of laughter.

  “That leaves Ted and Amara,” Tartan said.

  “I am not interested in a romantic relationship,” Amara said. “You know that.”

  “But we do need you a while longer,” Tartan said. “Because we need Isis. The rest of the group may break up, now that the couples have formed, but—”

  “Wait,” Dolin said. “You helped us. We’re not through helping you. We can’t break up the group until the Ghost Writer is dispatched.” The others nodded.

  “And we don’t want to break up the circle of friendship we have formed here,” Emerald said. “We should finish the mission, then retain the group.” There were more nods.

  “I assumed you wanted time to yourselves,” Tartan said.

  “We do,” Monica said. “But we can have that in the evenings.”

  “I would like to have a relationship with Amara,” Ted said. “But as she said, she’s not interested. I would not want to mess up our friendship.”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Tartan told him. Then, to Amara: “If the group continues beyond the mission, do you prefer to be with it?”

  “Actually I do,” Amara said. “I like the friendships, and we now have a good deal of adventure in common. And I like being with Isis, different as we are. I know the Goddess wants to be here too, as friends with the rest of you. But—”

  “If you had a regular male companion, other men would leave you alone,” Tartan said. “Just as others left Dolin and Emerald alone, leaving them free to be a couple if they needed to. That might make it worthwhile.”

  “But he’s a man. Soon he’d want ellipses, and I don’t.”

  “I would,” Ted said. “She’s a pretty girl. And when Isis kissed me, I really wanted it. I can’t deny that.”

  Tartan thought fast. This was the crux. “What about this, Amara: you keep company without romance, but if he wants more, ask Isis to handle it? She could let you tune out for the occasion, as she did when trying to seduce the Ghost Writer. It wouldn’t take long, and the rest of the time you’d have a pleasant friend.”

  “Wow!” Ted said. “I’d really go for that! No offense to you, Amara, but the Goddess is something else.”

  “Oh, she wouldn’t—” Amara paused herself with a dash. “Correction. She would. Because she likes this group too, and wants to be part of it, and this would facilitate that. What I have little or no interest in, she has total interest.”

  “So it would be mutual convenience,” Tartan said. “Ted would keep other men away from you, and Isis could give him something every so often. She certainly knows how.”

  “But I have to be realistic. She’ll never agree to that,” Ted said. “I’m no prince or Magician. I’m just a garden variety, curve-hungry crossbreed jerk.”

  “Let’s ask her,” Tartan said. “Goddess—”

  Then Isis manifested. She didn’t need to overhear their whole dialog to grasp its nature. “Put Ted on,” she said.

  Tartan turned the body over to the host. “But I don’t want to upset Amara,” Ted said uncertainly. Even slight romance seemed to be fraught with uncertainties.

  “Leave her to me,” Isis said. “Come here, Demon Ted.” She shot him a tractor beam glance.

  He went to her, towed by the beam. She kissed him. Little sparks radiated. His feet floated an inch off the ground. It wasn’t love, but it was potent.

  Tartan was left to his own thoughts in that timeless interval of the kiss. “Amara,” he said silently. He knew she could hear him, because their bodies were in close contact.

  “No, I don’t want to kiss you either,” she answered with a mental smile.

  He laughed. “Tell Isis when this breathless moment is done that Tara and I need to talk with her at greater length, privately.”

  “Go to her in the comic strip.”

  “No, the Night Colt is watching, and the Ghost Writer would know we were planning something. It should be in Mundania.”

  “She’ll need a host.”

  “I’ll tell Tara.”

  “Will do. Now get out of here before the endless kiss ends.”

  Tartan withdrew, his spot mission accomplished. Just in time, for the kiss was indeed coming to a glacial close after cramming centuries into an instant.

  “Okay,” Ted said breathlessly when the Goddess faded and he landed back on the ground.

  “Okay,” Amara said.

  “Let’s take the afternoon off,” Dolin said. “And the night. Then tomorrow we’ll tackle the Ghost Writer.” He clearly wanted time alone with Monica.

  “Together,” Mera said. She wanted time alone with Emerald.

  “As a group,” Emerald said. Ditto, with Mera.

  “As three couples,” Amara said. “Even if one lacks hearts.”

  “Well, Emerald and I lacked hearts,” Dolin said. “But it was good.”

  “And we saw those sparks,” Emerald said. “And you’re no dragon.”

  “Tara says it’s time to go home before she wets her panties,” Monica said naughtily.

  Indeed it was. Three romances within an hour would have Tara climbing the wall. Tartan wanted to be that wall.

  Chapter 16

  Goddess

  Back at the apartment, they didn’t even wait on the bathroom. Tara ripped out of her dress and tackled Tartan. She had wall climbing to do. He was supremely happy to accommodate her.

  . . . . .

  Afterward, exhausted on the bed, they realized what they had done. “That was a five dot ellipsis,” Tara gasped. “I didn’t know they existed.”

  “That must be the first of its kind,” Tartan said.

  Now she dived for the bathroom. “I doubt I’ll want another for a week.”

  “Me too.”

  After his turn in the bathroom, they flopped on the bed side by side. “It was weird, becoming a passenger instead of the driver,” she said. “But Monica had to have her turn.”

  “You did right. That saves Dolin from a loveless union.”

  “And saves Emerald from another. Mera was a surprise, though I guess there were hints along the way that we didn’t pick up on.”

  “We had other things on our minds.”

  “Yes.” Then she was taken by a convoluted pause. “What?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The Goddess Isis is coming so we can talk. I think I have figured out how to nail the Ghost Writer.”

  Tara’s expression shifted. “I am here,” Isis said. “What is your concern?”

  “I believe you can take out the Ghost Writer here in Mundania,” Tartan said. “All you need is a human host who can intercept him on his home turf.”

  The Goddess was thoughtful. “I could do that. But I’d have to stay with him to be sure he didn’t return to mischief in Xanth. That’s more than I care to donate to the cause.”

  “But it could be worth your while regardless,” Tartan said.

  “How so?”

  “Well, for one thing—” He broke off, hesitating to broach his notion.

  Meanwhile she was overtaken by a pause for thought, then spoke. “I haven’t done it in Mundania for some time. Let me see whether it is physically feasible.”

  “I’m sure—”

  “Give me an hour with this host, and we’ll know.”

  “You mean—?”

 
“Of course that’s what I mean. You have no idea of the rapture I can provoke when I indulge. You have never experienced anything of this magnitude.”

  “But Tara and I just performed a five dot ellipsis. We’re worn out, at least in that respect.”

  “Precisely. May I, Tara?” There was an unsegmented pause, because this was in Mundania where the magic nuances were largely lost. “Good enough.”

  She had gotten Tara’s permission to use her body for sex? That was crazy. But it seemed that the Goddess had taken it as a challenge. Well, after that effort flopped, they would be able to talk.

  Tara’s body oriented on him. She was already undressed, because they had been too tired to dress and get on with the afternoon routine. Now she sat up and took a deep breath. It was amazing how sexy that made her, even in his present state.

  Then she took hold of him and kissed him. Rockets went off.

  That was just the beginning. Tartan found himself on a tour that wound through heaven and hell without yielding any awe to either. He spent one or two eternities in almost painfully passionate bliss, but unlike his prior effort with Tara, this did not fade. The Goddess had spoken of rapture; she had understated the case. He could tell that it was not just him; Tara, too was transfixed by surging waves of delight as if borne on a mighty and endless ocean.

  . . . . . .

  Finally they washed ashore, in subsiding inspirations of fulfillment, totally spent. And knew that they had just experienced a six dot ellipsis. The Goddess had made her point. Or rather, her extra dot.

  “It will do,” Isis said. “I do seem to retain some of my proficiency here. Now let’s talk business.”

  When they were able to focus, they did talk. “You are physically confined to the comic strip,” Tartan told the Goddess. “We certainly understand why you want to get out. But the powers that be in Xanth are not going to let you out, knowing you will merely seduce your way to the top, then rule as Queen of Xanth with a harem of lucky men. Even if your rule was phenomenally benign, you would remain an outsider with power, and the people would chafe. So it’s better to keep well clear of that, and that means no release from the comics.”

 

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