“Oh, let's,” Desiree said. “As long as our menfolk aren't here to steal naughty glimpses.”
“Couldn't have that,” Burn agreed. “They might get ideas. We're princesses; men have no business getting ideas about us.”
Quiti touched the water with a toe. “It's not cold.”
They slowly undressed, putting on a show that would be senseless if not observed by a male eye. Did the dragon really think they were not aware of him? Or did he think, correctly, that they liked the opportunity to put on a bit of a show before someone who wouldn't tell? Princesses were not as prudish as they pretended to be.
They stood for a moment, gloriously nude, wearing only their petite gold crowns. Then they waded into the warm water and languorously washed themselves. They played minor water games. They swam in little circles. It soon became dull, but they had to keep it up for several hours. Finally they sat waist deep, to be sure the dragon's gaze did not falter, and compared notes about former boyfriends. That was always fun, again because they knew the listener would not betray their confidence. Desiree had by far the most, though none had stayed around long before Roque came on the scene, until he found Quiti. “Of course it's a matter of terminology,” she said. “Some might not care to call a man who is with you only fifteen minutes and pays money for your favor a real boyfriend.”
They laughed. She had been a lady of the evening until joining the Suite. “Speedo will stay,” Quiti said.
“He's a good boy. I do like him. Especially now that we both have chips.”
Then suddenly the men appeared. “Look!” Levi called as if surprised. “Nymphs in the water!”
The three damsels screamed in unison, horrified to be caught exposed. They ran out of the water, but the men were standing near their clothing, so they fled the other way, remaining delightfully bare. Both the men and the dragon were taking note.
“They're escaping,” Roque cried. “After them!”
“Just don't let them get near our camp,” Speedo said. “They might raid our food.”
There was the hint: go to the camp. They ran fleetly in that direction, there being no sharp stones or prickles on the ground to hurt their delicate feet, while the men somewhat clumsily pursued.
The dragon launched directly from his lair into the air, spreading his mighty wings. He looped around, gaining altitude, puffing up a bellyful of fire, then oriented on the men.
The damsels ran directly toward the camp, still uttering token screams. It was shrouded by smoke; it seemed the men had carelessly left their campfire burning.
The men were in hot pursuit, though careful not to actually catch up with the women. The dragon was following the men, ready to swoop down and strafe them.
“Hide in the smoke!” Speedo called.
Quiti knew that wouldn't work. The dragon would simply dissipate the smoke with the draft from his wings, then reorient on the exposed men. If this was their plan, it wasn't much. But they had little choice at the moment. They held their breaths and ran into the smoke.
And splashed into water. What? There was no pond here; the campsite had been dry.
The men splashed in after them; they heard the sounds. “We dug a channel, diverted the river,” Speedo gasped in the smoke nearby. “Made a pond.”
Then the dragon followed, so low it barely cleared them. Sure enough, its downdraft blew away the smoke, revealing the scene. A fair sized new pond.
The dragon was too low. He crashed into the pond, soaking his snoot. His fire sizzled out and his wings got sodden. He floundered.
The women scrambled to the shore. So did the men, who then turned around, drawing their swords.
“Okay, Dragon,” Speedo said. “By this time you will have caught on that our trap was not for the ladies, but for you. You can't blast us with fire until you get your snoot dry. Neither can you fly out of here until your wing feathers dry. If you try to scramble out, we'll chop your limbs off. So why don't we just wait here and chat about the weather while the ladies go visit with the sorceress?”
The dragon snorted, disgusted. Now he was the one without a choice.
“Our cue,” Quiti said. “Onward to the castle.”
“What, nude?” Burn asked.
“Didn't you read the prospectus? All the sorceress's minions are female. They won't care about that, and maybe we can get new outfits there.” Actually Quiti could cover herself with her hair, and make it look like any kind of clothing, but she remained nude for solidarity with her companions. Her hair looked to be only shoulder length; the rest was invisible.
The dragon almost choked on his soggy breath. The idea of the sorceress giving them outfits, or anything other than a good flogging before throwing them to her hungry minions, was preposterous.
Those minions were formidable, Quiti knew. The prospectus described them as zombies, vampires, and werewolves. How were they going to handle them? But she had a notion. She whispered it to her companions, who nodded. They would let her handle it.
*
The scene faded out. Gena the Centaur reappeared. “And on to Part Two, “Sorceress,” she announced, and faded out again.
The three princesses walked on to the castle, which was on a rise beyond the new pond. It was forbidding, with a black outline against a gloomy sky, surrounded by the husks of dead trees.
They marched up to the front portcullis, which was closed with a hulking humanoid guard standing behind the iron grating. “Ho!” Quiti called.
“Who the hades are you?” the guard demanded gruffly. She was female under her armor, with a high voice and woven metal halter.
“We are three princesses from afar who have come to petition the sorceress.” Quiti tapped her crown, clarifying her status.
“Petition her for what?”
“For some clothing to cover our nakedness,” Quiti said. “And.”
“And?”
“The Answer Box.”
The Amazonian guard made a harsh laugh. “Lotsa luck, fools. She lets no one near it, ever. Now go away before I go out there and eat you. We're not supposed to eat princesses, but I could make an exception.”
That was part of what Quiti was banking on. Princesses did not get eaten, they got worshiped or raped, and there were no males here to do either thing. That put them in another kind of no man's land.
“Suppose I bribe you to let us in?” Quiti asked.
The guard hesitated. “What kind of bribe?”
Quiti reached into her purse—she had a purse, though naked?--produced a small object, and held it up. “A truly luscious royal dog biscuit.”
“Sh—shucks,” the guard swore, eyeing it. “Give it here.”
Quiti passed the biscuit through the grating. The guard took it and sniffed it, verifying its quality. “How did you know I am a werebitch?”
“You forgot to hide your tail.”
The guard glanced behind her. There was her tail protruding from her armor. “Oh, well.” She tossed the biscuit into the air, changed instantly to wolf form, and caught the biscuit as it came down. Her armor had disappeared in the process. Then she let out a howl.
The portcullis slowly lifted, clearing the doorway for their passage. The three of them stepped through. Then it clanged back down behind them, locking them in.
Meanwhile more guards came, summoned by the howl. They were a motley crew. Some were werewolves, some were vampires, and some were zombies. All were lean and fit, as befitted warriors, but none were particularly attractive, even allowing for their claws, fangs, and rotten body parts.
“So now you gonna bribe all of us?” a vampire inquired, her gaze fixed on Quiti's neck. Her stringy hair didn't even try to hide her fangs or breasts. “There's a lot we can do to you without technically eating you.”
“That did cross my mind,” Quiti said. “There are no males on the premises?”
“You know there aren't,” the vampire said. “You pretty little things can't charm your way past any of us.”
“We are prett
y,” Quiti agreed. “You can be too.”
There was a ripple of unhappy laughter. “A stand-up comedian,” the vampire said.
“I'm serious. Beauty is mainly in the eye of the beholder, and a smart woman makes sure he sees only what she wants him to see. Fetch me a cloak.”
Bemused, the vampire signaled. A werebitch scurried away, and returned shortly in human form with a voluminous cloak.
Quiti took it and draped it over herself, covering everything except her head. “Now let's say you are a male vampire who has not seen a female bloodsucker of his lineage in months. He is hungry as hades, and not for blood; he gets plenty of that from the peons. He wants something more, such as a wench of his own persuasion, who understands his nature. Who suffers similar passions. A creature of his own kind. Then I come on the scene.” She stroked her fingers across her lower lip, leaving two fang-shaped smears, and subtly reshaped her face to look more vampirish.
The guards watched, all three types. There was something about this presentation that reached them on an unfamiliar level.
“Well hello, handsome creature,” Quiti said. She lifted one hand in a salute, and her cloak fell open just enough to briefly expose one breast. “What say you and I put in a little one on one time together?” She took a step closer. This time her cloak flashed a thigh. “I'd really like to make it with a doll like you.”
There was a muted sigh in the audience. They all wanted to impress a male like that.
“Oh, if only I could do that,” the vampire breathed. “But I'm ugly.”
“Not necessarily,” Quiti said. “To him your fangs are pretty; he wants to click them against his own. Your breasts are voluptuous; he wants to get his mouth on them, not to bite but to lick and kiss. He wants to get his hands on your buttocks and squeeze them possessively. And your lean thighs—he just wants to get in between them and pump in his essence. This is the ambition of any man with any pretty girl. Men are simple creatures, when it comes to the wiles of passionate ladies.”
“But I'm not!” the vampire said despairingly.
“Let your associates be the judge of that,” Quiti said, removing her cloak and putting it on the shoulders of the vampire. She took the stringy hair in her hands and fluffed it out to greater volume. She ran her fingers across the face, smoothing the skin. “Now give them a come-hither look, and let the cloak fall partway open.”
The vampire tried somewhat clumsily. “No, this way,” Quiti said, orienting her head for her. “And thus, for the cloak.”
The vampire tried again, and it was better. Then a third time.
“You're sexy!” the first werewolf said, back in her human form. “You really are!” She was obviously amazed. The others agreed.
“You can do a lot with a little,” Quiti said. “If you just know how. Much of it is merely concealing what isn't as provocative. His imagination will fill in the rest. That's why the right apparel is so important; it hides enough to invoke imagination. Now let's try it with low cut dresses. There are some in the castle?”
There were. Burn and Desiree stepped in to assist with spot instruction. Soon all of the guards, even the zombies, were posing flirtatiously in dresses, their hair brushed out, their faces clean. A number of them had real ability, now that they were trying for it.
“What's going on here?”
Everyone froze. It was the sorceress! Her fingers crackled with electricity, ready to shoot bolts of lightning to incinerate anything they struck. Her dark eyes were lidded but her glare was capable of putting a person into an instant trance. She could utter a spell to transform a person into a warty toad. In short, she was typical of her kind, a supremely dangerous creature.
This was mischief, but Quiti took it in stride. “We three princesses have come to see you, Sorceress. But on the way in we discovered all this fantastic talent and we just had to make something of it. Didn't you realize how lovely your minions are, if only they are encouraged to show it? They could mesmerize any males they encounter.”
The sorceress was amazed. “I believe they could,” she said, eyeing them. “It never occurred to me that such a thing was possible.” She paused, considering. “Can you do the same thing for me?”
Well, now! “We certainly can,” Quiti said. “Princesses may not be good for much, but we do know how to dazzle men. Let's have at you.”
They were operating under standard rules of engagement. There was a standing truce between princesses and sorceresses. Princesses might be incidental nuisances, but it was bad form to incinerate, entrance, or toadify one, because that might annoy her father. An angry king could be awkward, because he could send a token army to rape, pillage, and burn out a settlement, heedless of corollary losses. So princesses were largely immune, if they didn't push it. Trying to damage the sorceress would be pushing it.
The three of them surrounded the sorceress. She was a spare woman of about forty, with just a tinge of gray showing in her hair and frown lines on her face. They garbed her in a sleek robe that accented her figure, and quickly brushed and shaped her hair, got some foundation crème to smooth her face, and made her practice walking in a manner calculated to inflame the imagination of any watching male. She had a natural talent for it, and was now a stunner. Drop dead gorgeous, in fact.
The sorceress made light conversation during the conversion. She plainly recognized the princesses despite the lack of a formal introduction, and was clearly au courant. “Your father, monarch of Kingdom Y, is I believe a recent widower,” she remarked to Burn. “I extend my sympathy. Perhaps I should schedule a consolation visit, as he is surely lonely and might appreciate the company of a talented woman.” Meaning that the king was a prospect for marriage, once he got over his snit about losing his wife.
“Perhaps,” Burn agreed cautiously. Her father did have an eye for the ladies, and the sorceress had just become an impressive one. Her talents were hardly limited to magic.
To Desiree the sorceress remarked, “Your older brother, the designated heir to Kingdom X, recently broke up with his flighty girlfriend. It's almost as if he might be better off with a more mature and settled woman capable of accommodating his fundamental desires.”
“Almost,” Desiree agreed noncommittally. Her big brother was notorious for aberrant erotic appetites, which was the real reason the girlfriend had departed. The sorceress might indeed be able to handle him.
And to Quiti: “There is a rumor, unsubstantiated, that your capital castle dungeon at Kingdom Z has become embarrassingly overrun with giant rats that scare the serving maids. That they viciously bite anyone who tries to clear them out, and are largely immune to rat poison.”
Unsubstantiated, hades! It was a suppressed scandal. She was being carefully polite. “Um,” Quiti agreed.
“My lady zombies do not eat much, but do have a certain taste for rat brains. They have pretty well cleaned out our own dungeon. Do you think we might visit for just long enough?” Meaning she would have time to scout the prospects there, and the king would owe her a significant favor. A sorceress could work magic with such a situation. Quiti was wary, but it was nevertheless supremely tempting.
“We think you are ready,” Quiti said, changing the subject. “Try giving it a spin.”
The sorceress stepped into the open space and twirled so that her skirts rose and her legs flashed. “Hoo!” Burn murmured, being one to appreciate that sort of show. “You've nailed it.”
“But is it real?” the sorceress asked. “I have had much experience deluding others; I fear being deluded myself. For example, what happens if we attempt to dance with our opposite numbers in the male demesnes?”
Quiti hadn't thought of that. “You do know how to dance?”
“Oh, yes. But we have been too busy fighting the men to get close to them in that manner. We need to be sure there's a fit.” That was fraught with double entendre; all women knew the kind of fit men sought.
“As it happens, there are three princes in our party,” Quiti said. “At the mome
nt they are entertaining the dragon, but we can fetch them here. You should be able to judge from their reactions just how effective your moves are.”
“Excellent. Bring them in.”
Quiti went to the door. The portcullis lifted and she stepped out. She cupped her mouth with her hands and called, buttressing it with a telepathic echo. “Princes! We have something to show you. Let the dragon go.”
Soon the men arrived. “Warmest greetings, princes,” the sorceress said, taking their hands in turn as she flashed them with her cleavage. They kept straight faces, but their eyes swelled somewhat. “And here are my loyal minions.” She gestured, and the minions stepped forward as a group, some of them passable, some interesting, and some sexy as hades.
“The ladies are interested in dancing,” Quiti said. “But they lack partners. Would you care to do a few steps with them, just to see how it works?”
“Purely as a demonstration,” Roque said as he swept the sorceress into his close embrace. Levi and Speedo followed suit with the leading werebitch and vampiress, practically melding with them. But were they really dancing?
“What are you doing?” Quiti asked sharply, and Burn and Desiree nodded agreement.
“It's nicknamed dirty dancing,” Roque said.
“It's marvelous,” the sorceress agreed.
“Well clean it up!” Quiti said somewhat more forcefully than she had intended. Had the instruction been too effective? She had an open marriage with Roque, but this threatened to open it entirely too far.
“The others want to try it too,” the sorceress said, amused. “But with only three men, it's difficult.”
“What you need is a castleful of men to mesmerize,” Quiti said.
“As it happens, my neighbor the sorcerer with his all male minions are a perfect test case,” the sorceress said. “We have never gotten along well. That is about to change.” She made a grand gesture. “Here to me, minions. We shall march to make love, not war on the men.”
The minions flocked eagerly about her, simpering and adjusting their outfits for maximum effect. Pity the poor males! They didn't stand a chance.
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