Hair Suite

by Piers Anthony

  Soon they were gone, and the castle was empty except for their own group. “I think they could have used a bit more practice,” Roque said regretfully. “We hardly got started.”

  Quiti realized she was being teased. “Now for the Answer Box,” she said briskly.

  Cha

  pter 9

  Answer Box

  Gena Centaur appeared. “Section Three, titled 'Answer Box,' the first part of which is 'Search.'” She faded out.

  “Sure, the Answer Box,” Roque said. “What we came here for. Where is it?”

  Quiti paused, drawing a blank. She hadn't thought of actually finding the box, only of winning through the challenges.

  “It must be in an inner sanctum only the sorceress knows how to access,” Speedo said. “That's why she wasn't worried about leaving us alone in the castle.”

  Quiti nodded. “That sudden departure does seem a bit too pat. We solved the puzzle of dealing with her, so now we have the third challenge, part one. Finding the box.”

  Levi looked around. “This strikes me as pretty much a traditional fantasy castle with high turrets for bedrooms and a low dungeon for storage. This seems to be the business floor. Would the Box chamber be in a turret, or the dungeon?”

  They exchanged blank looks. “Depends on the whim of the proprietor, I suspect,” Quiti said.

  “We'll just have to look,” Roque said.

  They looked. The turrets were many and lovely, featuring perches for the vampires, rugs for the werewolves, and coffins for the zombies, but there were no hidden chambers. All seemed to be in use by the minions. There were pictures on the walls identifying wolf hunting grounds, vampire aeries, and zombie graveyards. They seemed much like ordinary people, only different. There were even zombie pinups, showing fairly fresh males, the kind that liked shapely young females.

  They checked the dungeon. There were the usual things, like an oubliette, skeletons in chains, an unused torture chamber, and isolation cells. Stored provisions for the winter. But no rats. Or magic boxes.

  They returned to the main floor. “Where would it be?” Quiti asked, frustrated. “It has to be here somewhere, according to the rules of the game.”

  “Maybe it doesn't look the way we think,” Desiree said. “A box can be any shape.”

  “Or hidden where least expected?” Burn asked.

  “Which would be where?” Quiti asked.

  “In plain sight,” Desiree said.

  They all looked around the main room. There were only a table and three cube-shaped chairs around it, red, green, and yellow. Nothing else.

  “Cubes,” Quiti said, catching on. “Boxes. One of these.”

  “But which one?” Burn asked.

  “Easy to try them all,” Quiti said. She picked up the red cube, which was about two feet on a side, comfortable to sit on. It wasn't heavy, evidently being hollow. It rattled as she moved it.

  “Well, now,” she said. “Something's inside.” She set it on the table.

  “Something we surely want,” Roque agreed.

  Speedo picked up the green cube. It rattled too.

  Burn picked up the yellow cube. It rattled.

  “So which one is it?” Desiree asked.

  “Maybe all of them,” Speedo said. “We want three things: the wormhole to the Pod, the Map of the inside of the Pod, and the Command to change its destination. One per box.”

  The others nodded. “This is the third of three challenges,” Levi said. “We have earned two of the boxes. But what about the third?”

  “This isn't adding up perfectly,” Quiti said. “One challenge may be locating them, the other to open them.”

  “Could they be fakes?” Roque asked. “To lead us astray?”

  “We need to figure that out,” Quiti said. “But if they are, then we still have to find the real ones.”

  “We've already searched the castle,” Desiree said. “If there are other boxes here, we're stymied. So these ones better be it.”

  Quiti wasn't sure of the logic, but didn't care to argue.

  They shook the cubes, verifying that each had something inside. They checked each for some switch or sliding panel or pressure point, but there were none.

  “Well, I see you found them.”

  They all looked up, startled. The sorceress was back, with her minions. This was after all her castle. “Didn't it work out at the sorcerer's castle?” Quiti asked.

  “Oh, it worked out,” the sorceress said. “Can't you tell?”

  Now Quiti saw that the woman was somewhat disheveled. Her hair was mussed, her new makeup smudged, and there was a tear in her robe. Someone had evidently attacked her. But she looked satisfied. The same was true of her minions.

  “Hard passion?” Desiree asked.

  “The hardest,” the sorceress agreed. “You should see the males. They are sprawled blissfully across the landscape, dead to the world. They thought we came to fight them, until we flashed them; then it got interesting. They're just as bored and lonely as we are, and twice as horny. That sorcerer has amazing stamina, and his minions are similar. It was as if they had blundered into a candy store when everything was free. What appetites! We could hardly keep up with them. There were even some mixed pairings.”

  “Mixed?”

  “Werewolf with zombie maid. Vampire with werebitch. Vampire with two zombie lasses. It was getting interesting, but we were worn out. We finally had to come home to rest.”

  Oh. “Congratulations,” Quiti said, bemused.

  “Tomorrow is another day,” she said zestfully. “We have hot dates.”

  “May you get good and steamy.”

  “We owe it all to you. Our lives were hopelessly dull; now they're fun. The same is true in greater measure for the men. They never anticipated the orgy we brought them. Thank you. You made us lovely, so that they discovered that we were good for something other than fighting.”

  “We were just trying to complete our quest.”

  “To be sure. And how is that going?”

  Was she free to talk about it? Why not. “We're stalled. We found the boxes, we think, but can't do anything with them. So you're winning after all.”

  “Winning?” the woman asked. “This is not a contest between us. We are merely props in your role playing game. Our portion is over.”

  “But we haven't finished!” Quiti protested.

  The sorceress considered. “I'm not sure it would be ethical to help you. But you did us a nice favor, and maybe we are entitled to return it indirectly. We can give you the night's lodging so you can continue tomorrow.”

  Suddenly Quiti realized how tired she was, and knew her companions were too. “You're serious?”

  “Of course. It's nice having company.” The sorceress beckoned a werebitch. “Set our six visitors up in the spare suite. They will be joining us for dinner. We are no longer part of their game.”

  “Yes ma'am.” They were was as happily disheveled as the sorceress. “This way, please.”

  Soon they were ensconced in the guest suite, consisting of three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Quiti realized that this represented one for each type of creature; the zombies did not actually need toilet facilities unless they found a new store of rats to eat, and even then maybe not.

  Dinner was elegant and quite edible, with several courses and many kinds of wine, followed by cake and ice cream for dessert, all served by petite werebitch, vampire, and zombie maidens. Quiti marveled where it all came from, until she remembered that this was all a dreamlike fantasy; their physical bodies were reclining back in the real world beyond the wormhole. It was all imagination, in this realm of Magi Nation. Yet the food and drink tasted real, and her belly was soon comfortably full.

  “You look perplexed, Princess Quiti,” their hostess said. “Is there a problem? I assure you that we have no wish to harm you in any manner, especially after the favor you have done us. We are currently off duty.”

  Quiti glanced at her companions, but Burn and Desiree wer
e happily getting tipsy on the fine wine, and the menfolk were as happily eyeing the presented loose cleavages and tight short-skirted posteriors of the maidens as they bent to refill wine glasses. It was a tacit collaboration of exhibitionism and voyeurism, the flirtation clearly enjoyed by both parties. There was no help there.

  “Are we allowed to talk off the record?” Quiti asked. “I mean, stepping out of character for the roles we are playing?”

  The sorceress smiled. “We are allowed, during off-time. Tomorrow when you resume your quest, the proper forms must be observed, of course. It is in effect a truce, with the rules suspended.”

  “I understand,” Quiti said. “This Magi Nation setting is a pure fantasy world that seems real only because we willingly suspend our disbelief. It's a kind of dream. So we're not really eating or drinking or ogling anatomy.” She shot a dark glance at Roque, but he was oblivious as he peered inside a very full werebitch blouse that seemed open all the way from top to bottom, literally.

  “We are not,” the sorceress agreed. “But the setting will be maintained until the quest is completed. It is easier to maintain it overnight than to reconstruct it on the morrow.”

  “Yet the personalities involved can't be purely the stuff of our imagination,” Quiti said. “You, for instance: I'm not imagining you.”

  “You are not,” the sorceress agreed.

  “So how is it that I am talking with you now? Who or what are you, really?”

  The sorceress smiled. “I am a creature from another world most closely resembling a ribbon fish of your world who alleviates her boredom by participating in a series of roles as an actress. Whatever is available at the moment. This present one is more diverting than some.”

  “Some?”

  “I have animated a type of sow—that is, a female pig—in a farming fantasy. I have animated a sea worm in an ocean story. A predatory vulture in an aerial setting. I must confess that being a human sorceress is the best role I have had in some time. And the erotic encounter with the sorcerer is a lovely bonus despite its occurrence offstage and the fact that in real life the sorcerer is of a totally different species; we could not connect erotically even if we wanted to. But here in this setting we are man and woman, and can almost experience the exotic emotion. I love this Magi Nation of yours.”

  “And the weres, vamps, and zombies are actresses too?”

  “They are, and they love it as I do. Most roles are low grade; it takes years to work up to worthy ones. But suddenly you made us all high grade, and we sincerely appreciate that.”

  “My companions and I did that? We're just fulfilling our quest, playing roles in the game.”

  “It was anticipated that you would barge in here, taking advantage of your partial immunity as princesses, and slaughter us like vermin until you found the boxes. Instead you chose to treat us as equals, making us become people with feelings. We were obliged to follow your lead regardless where you led, but this was a most pleasant surprise.” She smiled. “Even making out with a garbage-eating slug who has the role of a sorcerer. That could only occur in a third party setting like this.”

  “So we human folk who are playing the roles of princes and princesses are pikers compared to you galactics who aren't human at all. You're playing much farther fetched roles.”

  “Yes. But we love it, and especially our present roles. Consider the bitch who is fascinating your friend.” They both glanced at the lady werewolf whose full breasts were almost touching Roque's nose. “She's a creature like one of your grasshoppers, existing on a largely barren planet, where nothing interesting ever happens to her kind apart from getting raped by the male overlord to produce eggs for the next generation. Suddenly she's got the full attention of an alien prince.”

  “A mock prince,” Quiti said.

  “But she feels his interest, and revels in it. This is a high point of her life so far. Thanks to your Magi Nation fantasy. She will never forget this role. None of us will. We are all searching for some kind of meaning in our lives, and for many of us, this is as close as we come.”

  Quiti shook her head. “This is a new perspective for me.”

  “Perhaps. But I know from the background presentation that you are a worthy creature in your own realm, equivalent to the princess you portray. That all six of you are or are becoming prime figures in your realm. I hope you are successful in your quest, and that you do manage to save your world. It would be a shame to lose you.”

  “Oh, I hope so too,” Quiti agreed with feeling.

  The banquet concluded. Soon the women managed to haul their men away from the serving girls and to their bedrooms for the night. They caught up on natural functions, imaginary as they might be, and got into bed. Quiti considered mentioning to Roque that his luscious werebitch was really a grasshopper, but decided to let it be.

  “Oh, I already know,” he said. “She's strictly a look but don't touch item, for more than one reason. You, in contrast, I can touch.”

  “Here in Magi Nation? It isn't real.”

  “The hades it isn't.” He kissed her and fondled her, then got down to serious love play. His peeks at the serving wench had evidently turned him on.

  Quiti had to admit that it certainly felt real. She suspected that it was similar for the other two couples.

  But would they be able to crack the code of the Answer Boxes on the morrow? Everything hung on that. This entire charade was pointless if they did not do that. Yes, she knew that the real question was whether they were succeeding in sufficiently entertaining the galactic audience to be granted their reward. Failure would mean they did not impress the galactics enough, and Earth was doomed.

  They had to succeed.

  *

  Gena Centaur reappeared. “Our adventurers, having comfortably rested, now must unriddle the boxes. Herewith Part Two, “Box.” She faded out.

  Quiti woke determined to crack the riddle of the answer boxes. It was, pretty literally, do or die.

  They had a nice breakfast, served by other maidens, so that more of them could get their turns impressing the men. Even the zombie girls were remarkably healthy looking, though Quiti suspected that they accomplished the effect by larding the makeup on their faces and hands and covering up most of the rest. Still, they managed to show enough to interest the men. That was the point of that particular exercise.

  Then the sorceress and her minions marched off to the sorcerer's castle, to get some more activity in while they still had their roles. The six royal visitors tackled the three cubes.

  “Let's make two teams to try the cubes,” Quiti said. “The men on one, the women on another, and once we open them, all of us can work on the third.” No one objected.

  The three women took the green cube, and the men the red one. They remained featureless and impenetrable as before.

  “The colors,” Desiree said. “Like traffic lights: green to go, red to stop, yellow in between. Is that coincidence?”

  “No,” Burn said. “Remember, two human children designed this framework. Those colors would come naturally to them, as they play on the street.”

  “They shouldn't be playing on the street!” Quiti said.

  “Ghetto children do.”

  That was right; they did. This was pure imagination, in a galactic context, but it had been set up by Tillo and Idola, not ghetto children, but they knew the street. Hence also the princes and princesses; children liked stories about them. About those who had what the children lacked. But how would go, stop, and in between open the boxes?

  “There just doesn't seem to be any button to depress, any panel to slide, or any door to open,” Desiree said, frustrated as they all were. “But how else can we open it?”

  “Maybe get a screwdriver and pry?” Burn asked.

  They tried it, but there was nowhere to lodge the screwdriver. They also tried pouring water on it, in case the impervious surface melted. No luck.

  Meanwhile the men were similarly balked by their red cube. “There's got to
be a way,” Speedo said, frustrated.

  “I've got an idea,” Burn said. “Maybe in not physical, but verbal.” She faced the green cube. “Open says-a-me.” Nothing happened.

  They tried other commands, but the cube remained unresponsive. The men tried with theirs. “Forward March! Company Halt! Kilroy was here!” Nothing.

  They were still at it when the sorceress and her minions returned two hours later. They were joyfully disheveled again. “Those men are insatiable,” the sorceress said, well satisfied. “How's it going, princesses?”

  “You had a better time than we did,” Quiti said sourly. “We're absolutely balked. Nothing works.”

  “Too bad hugging and kissing won't do it,” the sorceress said. “But that works only on men.”

  “Unfortunately,” Quiti agreed. Then she had a second thought. “You know, if there's one thing children really like, though they don't admit it, it's hugging and kissing by their fond mothers. You don't suppose they--?”

  “Why not?” Burn said. “Easy to find out.”

  Quiti put her arms around the cube. She kissed its surface. It remained inert.

  Burn did the same, with no better result.

  Desiree did it, resigned.

  The cube fell open.

  They stared as the watching minions cheered. Was that applause allowed? It must be, now that they were spectators in a game they liked.

  In the middle of the middle square was a small glassy object. Quiti picked it up. “What is it?”

  “That, my dear, is what is colloquially called a wormhole fixer,” the sorceress said. “It's locked on a particular wormhole or destination. Invoke it, and it will guide your awareness there. Supremely useful for mental travelers. Congratulations on achieving it.”

  One third of their challenge had been met. But they were not yet done. Would kisses open the two remaining cubes? Quiti doubted it.

  But they tried it, the three of them kissing the red cube, and then the yellow one, without effect. “So far, the challenge has been roughly divided into teams,” Burn said. “One team accomplishes a task, then another does. Maybe it's the men's turn.”