They oriented on their own bodies and hosts, and recovered consciousness. Tartan was back in Ted’s host body, and Ted was there too. They stretched, and saw the others doing the same. They were back.
“Welcome,” Princess Ida said. “I trust you accomplished your purpose.”
“We did, we think,” Tartan said. “Your Ptero self helped. Thank you.”
“Then Hilarion and I will be on our way. It has been a pleasure interacting with you, and I wish your mission every success.” Ida and Hilarion stood and faced the door.
“Wait,” Drew said. “Caprice Castle insists on extending its hospitality, at least for lunch.”
“Why, thank you, dear; we can stay that long.”
“Ah,” Drew said, looking around. “I see Jody joined our group after we departed.”
“I did,” Jody said. “After Princess Ida notified me by mirror message that I was needed on Ptero.” She smiled. “I thought she meant just for babysitting. I confess I was surprised to discover her here at Caprice Castle. I did not mean to intrude.”
“Never that,” Drew said. “Allow me to give you a tour of the castle, now that you are to stay here.”
Jody blushed.
“Then I believe we shall tour Caprice.” He looked around. “Unless we can offer the rest of you a lift somewhere while we eat?”
“Do you know where the wives are hiding out?” Tartan asked.
“I regret I do not, and it is not on Caprice’s itinerary.”
“And you, Bernard?”
“I will stay with this party, in the interest of returning to R#1,” the Magician of Time said.
“Then I bid you all temporary farewell,” Drew said. He was plainly eager to get alone with Jody, and her continuing blush suggested that she had a similar ambition. He took her arm and they departed.
Meanwhile the castle was evidently organizing for a banquet.
That left a diminished group of seven and a half: Tartan and Tara in their hosts, Dolin, Emerald, Amara, Mera, Bernard, and Tata Dogfish, along with Ida and Hilarion. “What now?” Ida asked.
“We don’t wish to impose,” Dolin said. “If you prefer to rest while we wait on the castle preparations, we can leave you alone.”
“Nonsense dear. I have a general sense of what transpired on Ptero, but you can fill me in on the gossipy specifics.”
“There are some, actually,” Dolin agreed. “Such as the naughty snowball fight.”
“I love naughty details,” Ida said.
Tartan caught Tara’s eye. “We should take our break now, I think.”
And Tara blushed much as Jody had.
Chapter 12
Roses
Back at her apartment Tara was imperative. She dived for the bathroom. “Hurry!” she said as she emerged in seconds. Tartan hurried, of course.
When he emerged, she was naked on the bed. “Fast and hard!” she said urgently. Naturally he didn’t question or argue. It was a phenomenal ellipsis . . . . four dots at least.
“Was it the romances or the naughtiness?” he asked as they finally unwound.
“Both. Romance turns me on. But that blue snow in my bra, and then my panties, in front of all those men—I’ve never done anything like that before, not even close. Not even in my dreams. It was scary and exhilarating to be so bold and wanton.”
“I’ve never seen you so turned on. I love it. I almost saw little hearts flying out. Remind me to slip an ice cube in your bra some time.”
“I’d make you eat it, where it lies, before it melts. And it would melt rapidly from my heat.”
“And I wouldn’t even hurry,” he threatened.
“PS, hearts did fly out. They just were invisible here in dreary Mundania.”
“I like your heat. But I like you whatever way you are.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you think we can manage it the way it is in Xanth? Love and storks until we finally fade out?”
“Oh, I hope so!” She kissed him avidly.
“Will we ever get back to Reality Number one?”
“We have to. We have a mission to accomplish.”
They quickly ate lunch, brushed their teeth, made passionate love again without even counting the dots, and returned to Xanth.
“I’ve got to get a girl of my own,” Ted said. “You’re having too much fun off-screen. Monica says the same.”
“You compare notes in our absence?”
“Of course we do. We’re old friends. She says Tara’s turn-on is turning her on, only she doesn’t have a man to spend it with. She’s frustrated. I know how that is.”
“As I understand it, you and Monica are not related. You can’t consider each other?”
“No more than Dolin and Emerald can, though for a different reason. I told you before: we’re like brother and sister.”
“You did,” Tartan agreed. “Maybe one day when you never expect it you’ll bump into a girl and little hearts will fly out.”
“Let it be soon!”
The meal had been concluded during their absence, and Ida and Hilarion were gone. “You don’t suppose those two older folk wanted to get alone?” Tartan asked Ted.
“Well, those details were pretty saucy. Amara let Isis describe them, and maybe she enhanced them some. It turned me on, and I was there.”
Tartan laughed. “The Goddess enhances details just by manifesting.”
“She does. She stifled it during the sauna and snowball fight, or we’d all have suffered terminal freaks.”
“In your absence, Mundanes, some of us focused on the mission,” Mera said, clearly understanding what they had been up to. “We devised a plan to locate the Good Magician’s off-duty wives. We’re sure they are hidden so they won’t be bothered by stray visitors, but Emerald will turn dragon and scout for likely locales. Tata will be with her, and he will land and sniff the prospects. He will know if any path leads to them. Then we’ll follow.”
“Seems viable to me,” Tartan said. “I gather Princess Eve is still tracking him?”
“Yes. It’s her talent he uses. He loves it.”
Soon they were departing the castle. Drew and Jody hardly noticed, being too wrapped up in each other. Little hearts were snagged in the curtains and accumulating in the corners. Tara caught Tartan’s eye and squeezed out a faint blush. They certainly knew how it was.
Tartan turned to look back at the castle, but it was silently gone. It did not fly, it simply faded from one place to another.
“Ready, Tata?” Emerald asked. The dogfish wagged his tail. Emerald handed her clothing to Dolin, then turned dragon, and the dog flew up to land on her back, between the wings. Tata could fly on his own, but he was actually swimming through the air, dog paddling, and it was far too slow for this project.
“She’s one lovely creature,” Bernard said.
“In which form?” Amara asked tartly. But of course he was right: the dragon princess was resplendent in silver with green-edged scales. So was the human form, with the silver hair and green finger and toe nails.
“I was away,” Tara said. “So maybe I missed it. Amara, don’t you know where something will be? Like the house where the wives are?”
“I do and I don’t,” Amara said. “The thing being somewhere must be temporary for my talent to work. The wives’ house doesn’t move, so if I knew where it would be, I would know where it is now, and that nulls my insight. Ordinary talents have limits like that, not necessarily convenient or sensible.”
“I believe I can tell the general direction,” Dolin said. “That way feels right.”
“That’s toward the Good Magician’s Castle,” Amara said. “Only one of them is there at a time.”
“Perhaps they remain close by. That makes sense.”
She shrugged. “I suppose it does. We might as we
ll walk that way while we’re waiting.”
In due course the dragon returned. Tata flew off, and Emerald formed. Dolin returned her clothing to her, and she dressed. Tartan realized that this was part of their friendship: she could trust him with details like her clothing, knowing he would not lose it or gape at her. They truly understood each other.
“We found the trail,” Emerald said. “On the third landing at a promising intersection. Tata sniffed it out.”
“Where is it?” Dolin asked.
“Beyond the Good Magician’s Castle, beside the Kiss Mee River.”
“That way,” he said, pointing in the direction they had been going.
“Yes.”
There was a musical note. Startled, Tartan looked. There was a shoe that must have fallen from a shoe tree, but this was no ordinary footwear. It was made of brass, and instead of laces there were keys, and it opened out into a hole like that of a French Horn. The keys depressing of their own accord, and more notes sounded, forming rude musical sneers. “What’s this?” he asked.
Tata sniffed it. “Woof!”
Amara laughed. “I can translate that. That’s a brassy shoe horn. They care for nothing and nobody. You certainly wouldn’t want to wear it.”
“I wouldn’t,” Tartan agreed, annoyed.
“The wives live in a cottage cheese,” Emerald said. “It’s not far. We can reach it by tonight.”
“Um, is that a pun?” Tara asked.
“Maybe to you. It’s a cottage made of cheese. They are surprisingly durable.”
They walked on. In Xanth, most destinations were reached by walking, and Tartan was concluding that this was no bad thing. They were on an enchanted path, so there were no deadly threats, just puns.
As evening threatened, they came to a camping area. The main shelter had two compartments. “Men can have one, women the other,” Amara said briskly. “We’ll take turns washing up in the pond. Anyone who wants to peek may do so provided he never tells. It isn’t as if there’s much left to hide, after that snowball fight on Ptero.”
“I’m the newcomer here,” Bernard said. “I have eyes now for only one woman, and she’s not here.”
“Tara and I will go home for the night, as usual,” Tartan said.
Tartan and Tara took hands and willed themselves back to her apartment. “I have the feeling that we are slowly nearing the end of our adventure in Xanth,” she said. “Do you think we will lose the portal once we’re no longer needed?”
“If we manage to complete our mission, and scotch the Ghost Writer, maybe they’ll do us the favor of leaving it open. Regardless, we’ll still have each other.”
“And that’s a lot. But I’d still like to visit Xanth some more.”
“Amen.”
“I also hope that Prince Dolin finds his princess,” she said.
“And Emerald her prince,” he agreed. “Only that’s not a good answer for her.”
“I really don’t see a better answer than their being with each other, frustrating as it may be for them. Half a loaf, and all that.”
“Meanwhile, we still haven’t found a way to stifle the Ghost Writer.”
“Or even to get Isis out of the comic strip so she can tackle him.”
“It’s beginning to feel like an unwinnable game,” he said.
“Monica says that when the Good Magician is involved, it always works out in the end, however obscure the route.”
“That’s comforting to know,” he said somewhat sourly.
“Monica’s pretty experienced in Xanth. She’s probably correct. And—”
“And?”
“She’s hiding something from me. That’s not like her.”
“What sort of thing? Maybe we can figure it out.”
“An emotional sort. I think she’s getting interested in someone she shouldn’t.”
“What, someone in our party?”
“Maybe. Or someone we met along the way.”
“Like maybe Bernard? Whose interest is in Kelei? She’ll need to stifle that.”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m glad I have no such complication.”
“I’m glad too. Are we heading for another ellipsis?”
“If you want. I’m satisfied just to be with you.”
“Me too,” he agreed.
“Are we getting beyond the point of urgency? That smells like love.”
“It does. Should I propose to you?”
“Do you need to?”
He laughed. “You can set the date.”
“After we solve the problems in Xanth.”
In the morning they returned to the group. “Anything happen in the night?” Tartan asked Ted.
“All was calm. But I’m concerned about Monica. She seems moody. That isn’t like her.”
“Tara is concerned too. She thinks it’s emotional.”
“Maybe she’ll shake it off soon.”
“You folk back?” Emerald called. “Time to be on our way.”
They resumed travel. Now Tata led the way, knowing the correct path. They passed the fork that led to the Good Magician’s Castle and went on toward the Kiss Mee region.
“Do you know about Kiss Mee?” Amara asked Tara.
“It sounds interesting.”
“It’s very friendly country. But don’t drink from the river, unless you want to go into a kissing frenzy.”
Tara laughed. “Thanks for the warning.”
Then Tata turned off the enchanted path, taking an ordinary one. They followed.
They came to an explosive set of forks, the path diverging every which way as it made its way through a field of tall corn. But Tata had no trouble sniffing out the correct route. “What is this?” Tartan asked. “It looks like a maze.” Then he groaned, getting it. “A corn maize.”
They followed the dogfish single file. The path switched back and forth, like the route of a snake, and at one point even made a complete loop.
Tara, just ahead of him, stopped. “How can it do a loop without crossing itself?”
“Maybe it forgot that detail,” Amara said from behind him.
This provoked Tartan’s curiosity. “Wait a moment; I’ll backtrack. Keep letting me know where you are.”
“Beep,” Tara said. “Beep beep beep.” She spaced them out.
Tartan walked back around the loop, listening to the beeps. The way curved forward, around, and back again. Tara’s signals continued all the while, but remained just to the side, hidden by the thickly growing corn plants. “Did you move?” he called.
“Not a smidge,” she called back.
“But I have retraced the loop, and there’s no intersection.”
“That’s impossible. Wait there; I’ll join you.”
“I’m waiting,” he agreed.
Tartan waited, and in a moment and a half she came around the curve. “Or were you just trying to get me alone for a moment?”
“That, too,” he agreed, and kissed her. They were not in their own bodies, but it was just as nice, and little hearts did radiate. Then he raised his voice and called to the others. “Are you still there?”
“Immovable,” Amara called back.
Tara shook her head. “Impossible, yet it’s happening. It doesn’t intersect.”
“So it’s magic.”
They retraced their route and rejoined the others. “Some paths are like that, Emerald said. “I could turn dragon and look from above, but I don’t have room here to take off, and it would just be blurry anyway.”
“I could have told you,” Ted said to Tartan. “But I figured you’d rather find out for yourself. This is Xanth, where paths can be one way with no retreat, rivers can do loops in the air, and rainbows are in the shape of bows.”
“Thank you,” Tartan said shortly.
“I recognize it,” Amara said. “It’s a wanna bee. They always want to be something else. Of course it’s lost in this infernal puzzle.”
“Fly up and perch on my hair, and I will lead you to an open space where you can find your way,” Tara said.
The bee made a grateful buzz and flew up to land on her hair.
“How do I love thee: let me count the ways,” Tartan murmured. Some girls were afraid of insects of any kind, and tried to obliterate them.
Ahead, the path debouched into a cleared area still inside the cornfield. Tara’s bee buzzed happily up into the air and flew away.
A man was standing there looking frustrated. “Uh, hello,” Tartan said. “Can we help you?”
“You wouldn’t want to,” the man said gruffly. His features were indistinct.
Tara stood beside Tartan. “Why not? We’re helpful people.”
“Because I am AC, the personification of the Adult Conspiracy, widely despised but obeyed.”
“Impossible,” Tara said. “That’s not a person, it’s an idea.” Then she paused. “I stand corrected. My host reminds me this is Xanth, where unlikely things can become literal.”
“What are you doing here?” Tartan asked, similarly reassured by his host. “Shouldn’t you be out tormenting children with your ridiculous strictures?”
“Such as bleeping out forceful words and concepts?” Tara added. “So we can’t even say bleep if there’s a child in hearing range, or even the remote possibility of a child, so that in that way you extend your power beyond all reason?”
“I should,” AC agreed without bridling. “But I took a shortcut through the maize and got lost. I can’t find my way out. The infernal paths make loops without crossing. Who knows what mischief children will get into if my restraints are not enforced?”
Isis manifested. “What mischief indeed! Children should be encouraged to learn the facts of life, rather than be constantly teased by their absence. Knowledge is superior to ignorance.”
“You are mistaken, Goddess,” AC said, evidently recognizing her. “The Conspiracy is essential to the preservation of order.”
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