Air Apparent

by Piers Anthony

  Fray vaporized. She became a cloud, expanding rapidly.

  “I need some color,” Debra said. She spied a patch of redberries growing between greenberries and blueberries. She scooped some up in her bra, then swished them in it so that the red stained the cloth. Now she had a bright red double flag.

  The bull charged, his flames brightening. Debra held the bra out to the side and waved it tauntingly. The bull caught it with one horn and jerked his head. That yanked it out of her hands and set fire to it. Now she was weaponless.

  But Fray had gained altitude and wind. She made a small rumble of thunder and squeezed out some rain. It dropped on the bull, making his flames sizzle. He made a bellowing moo of outrage and tried to charge the cloud.

  Fray was still gathering force. She dumped more rain on the bull, wetting on his head. More flames sizzled, and his head went up in steam. That made him realize he was getting doused. He got sensible and charged away before losing the rest of his flames.

  “Get the others!” Debra called to the cloud.

  Fray went to it with a will and a half. She expanded until she covered the nametaggers, who were in the process of carrying away the three they had tagged. She wet on them voluminously, though Debra suspected she didn’t know what the word meant. That dampened their enthusiasm. They dropped the three and sought shelter in the forest. Fray encouraged them by sending a few small bolts of lightning after them.

  Debra galloped back to where the three were lying. Now the rain was pouring down, soaking them all. Small sparks scattered, and the three stirred. The spell had been shorted out!

  “Follow me!” Debra called, leading the way. Wira, Ilene, and Sim, dazed, obeyed, staggering after her. Sim seemed to be better able to repel the water, while Ilene was stronger on her feet; the two got together and helped each other move. Debra led them out of the storm and away from the nametaggers, to safety.

  In time Fray recondensed, becoming her apparent air form again. “That was great!” Nimbus exclaimed, hugging her. “Wonderful talent!” She looked surprised but pleased.

  “I agree,” Wira said. She was bedraggled, with matted hair and clothing, but still the most mature member of their party. “And you handled the problem very well, Debra.”

  Now it was Debra’s turn to be surprised but pleased. “I just did what I had to do. Fray really was the one.”

  “I regret I did not anticipate the nametaggers’ ploy,” Sim said, fluffing out his feathers. “I’m supposed to be smart.”

  “Nobody could have known,” Ilene said.

  He nodded, appreciating her defense of him. The two were of similar age, and seemed to be drawing closer to each other.

  “Everyone behaved appropriately,” Wira said. “Now let’s get dried out.”

  The others were glad to agree. They located a spring and took turns washing themselves and their clothing. Debra found some brush to make a lean-to, and Ilene harvested some fresh berries from the colored berry patches. They were all glad to have come through their adventure without harm.

  Next day they walked and flew south to the top of the cone, where the arrow had pointed. Debra carried Wira, Ilene, and Nimbus, suitably lightened, while Sim flew alone, generating a powerful wake that towed Fray Cloud along behind.

  “He’s such a smart, handsome bird,” Ilene murmured.

  “He has to be, to be the Simurgh’s heir apparent,” Wira said. “Che Centaur tutored him for years.”

  But when they reached the tip, there was no one there. It was a barren hump. “How could the arrow be wrong?” Wira asked, flustrated.

  “That’s an interesting mood,” Sim remarked. “A mergence of flustered and frustrated, fit for the demoness Metria. But there is surely an explanation. Perhaps tonight will be appropriate for one of your communal dreams.”

  They set about making camp again, and Sim and Debra flew back to fetch some pies from the nearest pie tree. “If you don’t mind,” Sim said when they were alone. “I have a private question.”

  “Ilene is a nice girl,” Debra said immediately. “She does like you; it is apparent.”

  “But I am a bird.”

  “Xanth’s most beautiful bird,” she agreed. “And smartest. Women are drawn to such qualities. Remember, all the creatures of this world are crossbreeds. Romance across the species is the social norm.”

  “But she’s only eleven years old.”

  “And you are twelve.”

  “I’m an heir apparent.”

  “She’s the heir to fairly illustrious folk herself, being the daughter of a former king and queen.”

  “So—?”

  “So it’s a feasible match, if the two of you agree. There is no suitable female of your species, so you have to look elsewhere. You do have several years to study the situation before any adult commitment would be expected.”

  “And if it should become love?”

  “More power to you both. Love has happened to stranger couples. I’m in a position to know.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  That night Wira used some of the dream-share elixir, and Debra joined her in a dream that sought the menfolk. Debra remained in centaur form in her dream; it seemed she had to focus to avoid mirroring her physical body. Well, this would do for this purpose.

  The men were in a pleasant cottage, in contrast to the crude shelter of the women and children. At least they were safe. They were, it turned out, inside the tip of the cone, instead of outside; the arrow had pointed true, but a detail had been missed.

  Wira rushed to kiss the Random Factor. Debra was startled, until she remembered that now Hugo had the Factor’s body. So she went to kiss Hugo’s body. It was safe to do that now, with or without her bra.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Random said, his hands unable to stay away from where her bra would have been. The curse made any man who knew her name want to touch her bra, and this was as close to it as he could safely get. “This may be the only way; we fear our bodies were burned up on Xanth.”

  “No they weren’t,” she reassured him. “We found the beer cellar intact, and your bodies there.”

  “That’s a relief. It gives us faint hope. Now if we could just nullify your curse.”

  “Would you still love me then?” she asked teasingly.

  “Oh, yes! My love may have been inspired by the curse, but I know it’s eternal.”

  “That’s nice.” That seemed inadequate, but this whole situation was unusual, with her in the winged centaur form making out with the body of her friend’s husband. As she had told Sim, love could be strange.

  All too soon Wira drew the dream to a close. They agreed to meet next day at the brink of the Hypotho-sea.

  But before the night was over, Debra woke with a start. She had received the signal. The men had transferred out of this world!

  “Something must have forced the issue,” Wira said when Debra told her. “We shall simply have to orient on their next stop. It is merely a delay.” But there were tears in her eyes.

  Debra understood completely. They had come so close to reunion. Now they had to start over.

  15

  MOTES

  The Factor looked around. They were on a small rocky irregular world. Around it were other little worlds, floating to the sides and above. In fact this was a swarm of fragments, each big enough to hold a village but not much more. Some were barren, some had turf and trees, and some did seem to have human houses. “What is this?” he asked, perplexed.

  “This would be Motes,” Hugo said. “Magicians Bink, Dor, and Dolph visited it once in a dream, and the Zombie Master. It was a most interesting report; the Good Magician made a long note on it.”

  “A collection of fragments?”

  “Orbiting the head of the Ida on the world of Tangle,” Hugo said. “Each world is different, and some are pretty strange. I don’t remember them all, but know that one is Zombie World, with all zombies, and another is Dragon World, in the shape of a giant dragon, and all the
imaginable varieties of dragons exist there. Motes is just along the way.”

  “Like islands in a sea,” the Factor said. “Do you suppose the women would like to live on one of them?”

  Hugo considered. “Maybe if it were a nice one. We can look around and see what’s available.”

  “It is interesting that we are able to breathe here. This tiny planetoid should not have enough gravity to retain an atmosphere.”

  Hugo laughed without humor. “How fortunate that this realm is magic, rather than Mundanian science. There is light without a sun, and air without atmosphere.”

  “They should be along in another day or so. Debra knows when my transfer magic is invoked. We can use that time to explore and locate a suitable island.”

  Hugo shrugged. “Might as well.” He looked at the mote they stood on. “I wonder what we exchanged with this time?”

  “A couple of small plants,” the Factor said. “That’s why the ground is bare where we stand.”

  “I wonder whether we have bodies there also, as it seems we do on Xanth proper? All the soul stuff left over when we went to this infinitely smaller world.”

  The Factor considered. “I suspect they simply dissolved into background material.”

  They jumped to the nearest other mote. Science might not be operative here, but gravity was not strong, and they were able to do it readily enough. This one was completely barren, and they didn’t linger.

  The next was a larger fragment, with several houses on it, and men working in small fields. They approached a man who was loading a wagon, in his fashion. He had a stout short-legged goat, on which he piled a bale of hay. Then the goat levered itself up until it stood higher than the wagon. The man then rolled the bale from the goat’s back to the floor of the wagon. The goat’s legs shortened, bringing it down for the next load.

  “That’s a remarkable goat,” Hugo said. He was by far the more social of the two of them, and knew how to talk to people. The Factor had never much cared about people, before falling in love.

  “He’s Billy Jack,” the man said proudly. “There’s no load he can’t lift.”

  “We’re new visitors to this realm,” Hugo said. “We’re looking for a fragment where a few people might live in comfort. Can you direct us to any prospects?”

  The man hesitated. “You don’t want to stay here long. Best to move on soon.”

  “That’s not convenient,” the Factor said. “Why should we move on?”

  The man’s lips tightened. “It’s your decision.”

  “Where should we look?” Hugo asked. “We don’t want to impinge on anyone else’s territory.”

  “Try the Tell-A-Path.”

  “Telepath? Where is he?”

  “Tell-A-Path,” the man repeated. “Over there. Tell it where you want to go, and it will go there.”

  They looked. Not far away was a passing path. It looked ordinary, but so did many magic things. “Thank you,” Hugo said.

  “But you don’t want to stay,” the man repeated.

  What was his problem? Were the decent territories limited, so that they were trying to discourage new settlers? Yet the man did not seem unfriendly. It was more as if he were simply offering good advice. Curious business.

  They walked to the path. “We want to find a nice planetoid suitable for four people,” the Factor said. “Two men and two women.”

  The path glowed briefly, acknowledging. They got on it and stood, perplexed. “Which direction?” Hugo asked.

  “Either way,” the man called.

  Maybe that made sense. There was bound to be more than one route to wherever they wanted to go.

  They picked a direction and walked. The path went to a hillock and stopped at the top. But there was a faint glow in the air beyond, pointing to another planetoid. So they jumped, and landed where the path resumed on the adjacent mote. This was another small barren one, and the path soon moved to another. They seemed to be moving toward the outside edge of the cluster of motes. Was it just meandering, or did it really have somewhere to go?

  They paused at a mote where a number of people were busy fashioning assorted nets. “What’s this?” the Factor asked.

  “We’re networking,” the closest worker answered. “Making every type of net: fishing, magic, inter, whatever.”

  “I always wondered where nets came from,” Hugo remarked. “Now I know: from the networks.” Then he spied a woman who was painstakingly weaving an extremely fine net. “What’s that?”

  The woman looked up at him and smiled. “I’m Ruby. It is my talent to make a net that will stop wiggles.”

  “But nothing stops wiggles!”

  “That’s why this net is needed. But the work is slow; it will require decades to complete it.”

  “Let’s move on,” the Factor said, bored.

  At the base of a hill they met a woman walking the other way. She was looking to the side and didn’t seem to see them. “Hey, watch where you’re go—ooof!” the Factor said. For the girl had just collided with him.

  That started a small chain reaction. The Factor fell back into Hugo, and all three of them fell into the brush bordering the path. They wound up in a heap, the girl plastered rather indelicately across the two men.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, scrambling up and tucking her clothing back together so that no bra or panty showed. On one level the Factor regretted that. “I didn’t see—” Then she broke off, because a cart was zooming down the hill. It was loaded with bricks, and was surely quite solid. It whistled by them and on out of sight.

  “That cart would have wiped us out,” Hugo said. “If you hadn’t pushed us off the path.”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said. “That’s my talent.”

  Both men stared at her. “Your talent?” the Factor asked.

  “I’m Tovi. I’m a small-scale klutz. I’m forever bungling things. But often my mistakes lead to larger scale benefits, purely by coincidence.”

  “I’m Hugo, and this is the Factor,” Hugo said. “Your mistake just saved us from getting squashed.”

  “Yes, that’s the way it works. But I should have looked where I was going.”

  “We’re glad you didn’t,” Hugo said. “Thank you for saving us.”

  “As long as you’re not mad,” she said.

  “We’re not mad,” Hugo said. “As a matter of fact, maybe you can tell us what life is like, here on Motes. Why wouldn’t we want to stay?”

  “I’d better be moving on before I klutz again,” she said nervously. She did so, leaving them halfway bemused.

  Then they came to a planetoid that seemed ideal. It bore a sign saying oasis—vacancy. It had a nice spring-fed pond with quacks swimming on it, several handsome shade trees, and a fair number of pie bushes. It looked like exactly the kind of mote the women would like.

  “Thank you, Path,” Hugo said. He was odd that way, treating even inanimate things like people. But his courtesy was wasted; the path was gone. It had done its job.

  “We can build a house,” the Factor said. “Everything’s here.”

  “Two houses,” Hugo said. “I have to keep your body away from Debra.”

  “Two houses,” the Factor agreed. He was quite satisfied to have his body avoid the curse. This Hugo-body might be forty-three years old and not handsome, but with it he could do anything he wanted with Debra, and he wanted to do everything. Until such time as they thwarted the curse and exchanged bodies back, this was a satisfactory alternative.

  They got to work. On the far side of the mote was a brick mine with many fine bricks. This must have been where the self-propelled cart came from. They cleared places on either side of the duck pond and started moving bricks there. It turned out to be a larger job than they had realized, and long before they were done night closed. So they lay down beside their separate piles of bricks and slept.

  It was funny, the Factor thought, how he now was interested in things that had never occurred to him before. All he had wanted was
freedom to do his own thing, randomly. That had included fine times with nymphs or demonesses, or even a vila, had the timing been right. Now he wanted to please Debra, and that meant trying to anticipate her needs and desires and accommodate them. She would want a nice house. He wasn’t sure what else she would want, but he would try to find out and do whatever it was.

  Yet somehow he felt a deep foreboding. Not because of the danger Debra represented for him; they understood that and were on guard against it. This was something else, and it was slowly intensifying. It stopped him from sleeping.

  “Do you feel it too?” Hugo asked from the darkness.

  “Yes. What is it?”

  “I don’t know. But I am wondering what that man with the goat meant when he said we wouldn’t want to stay here. And why such an ideal little world as this is vacant. There is something we don’t know, and now I think we ought to find out before we go further with our preparations.”

  “How can we find out?”

  “There should be an Ida here. There’s one on every world. She seems most likely to know.”

  That did make sense. “Can that trip wait until morning?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I agree,” the Factor said grimly. “Whatever it is, it’s coming closer. I don’t want it to find us unprepared.”

  “What can we do in the dark?”

  “Hide!”

  So they made their way to the trees, and climbed, hiding in the upper foliage. But the foreboding remained. Whatever was coming seemed to be orienting on them, and it seemed to know exactly where they were. They could not stay here.

  They studied the night sky, but could not see anything other than faintly glowing motes.

  “I dread traveling at night,” Hugo said. “We might jump and miss a mote, and float helplessly in space.”

  “Nonsense. I could simply conjure one of your fruits and throw it, and the reaction would push me the other way, assuming that principle is not too scientific for this realm. We can get where we are going.”