Two to the Fifth

by Piers Anthony

  How could he explain it? “You don’t know?”

  “Someone just took over my body and made wild love to you. It must have been your lover”

  She had nailed it. “Yes.” How angry would she be?

  “So that’s her talent: occupying the bodies of other women. Does she do that often?”

  Did Rhythm’s changes to age twenty- two count? “I can’t exactly say.”

  “Does she ever do this in her own form?”

  “No.”

  “That’s interesting. She must be very ugly”

  She was still probing. “Maybe,” he agreed.

  “Well, she certainly wore me out. Good night.” She dropped off to sleep.

  Just like that! But of course she was a dragonfly; they rested often and briefly. Relieved, he relaxed and slept also.

  In the morning, she remembered. “That is some girlfriend you have. No wonder you’re not free to identify her. But you did speak her name.”

  “Did I?”

  “But I can’t remember it, oddly. I am normally excellent with names.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said, relieved on at least two counts: she couldn’t remember the name, and she seemed not to be angry.

  “You may be more of a challenge than I anticipated,” she said, getting up nude and stretching her arms and wings. She was a beautiful specimen. Fortunately she seemed not to be amorous in the morning.

  She let him rejoin the troupe to organize for the evening play. “But you will be with me again to night,” she warned him. “Maybe this time I’ll identify your mysterious girlfriend”

  He certainly hoped not. He stayed studiously away from Rhythm, knowing how dangerous it could be if Andromeda ever identified her. Rhythm, understanding perfectly, cooperated.

  The first play, “The Curse,” was a success. The villagers really were starved for entertainment, and loved it. They applauded heartily. Their original unfriendliness faded.

  “That actress,” Andromeda said that night. “Could she use other bodies to come to you because of the awkwardness of her pincers?”

  “Maybe”

  She sighed. “So it’s not her”

  Then Rhythm took over. “No, not her,” she agreed with Andromeda’s mouth. “She’s too nice.”

  “Obviously you’re not,” Andromeda replied in her own voice.

  “You’re talking to each other?” Cyrus asked, amazed.

  “She sees I’m not angry, merely intrigued,” Andromeda said. “So she lets me have some freedom. This way, not only do I get your passion, but technically I’m not being unfaithful to my husband. That’s a fair deal.”

  “I’m not sure there should be any deal. This is weird.”

  “Really?” they said together, and tackled him.

  After the horrendous ellipsis, Rhythm departed. “I think I like her, whoever she is,” Andromeda said. “Is she a member of your troupe?”

  “I’m not telling.”

  “So she is.” The Dragonfly Queen was entirely too apt at reading his responses.

  After she fell asleep, Cyrus had an awful thought. How old was Rhythm physically for these sessions? Was she invokingthe Decade spell? Or was she really participating as a child? Somehow he hadn’t thought it through before.

  He decided not to ask. After all, as she had said, Andromeda’s body was adult. It was like the Decade spell in that respect.

  The second play, “The Dream,” was also well received. And it gave Andromeda another idea. “Could she be the dragon!” she exclaimed. “That really makes sense”

  Cyrus said nothing, hoping she would take it as confirma-tion.

  “Almost too much sense,” she concluded. “Why would you reveal it in a play, if you wanted the liaison secret?”

  Oh, well.

  The villagers liked the third play also. “Tomorrow we must let you go,” Andromeda said regretfully that night. “I can see you are not a prospective convert.”

  “You’re giving up?” Cyrus asked, surprised.

  “Your girlfriend will not give you up, or allow you to join the Roc,” she said. “I can feel it in her nature when she possesses me. All I can do is whisper one last private plea.” She put her mouth to his ear.

  “That’s not necessary,” he said.

  “Get out of here, you and your troupe, quickly,” she whispered urgently. “Lest you suffer our fate. You are decent folk. Please don’t betray my confidence.” Then she kissed his ear.

  “Uh—” he said.

  She drew back, smiling sunnily. “Isn’t that persuasive? I am bound to do my best to enlist you in our cause”

  She was a nice person herself. She had whispered the truth, and the Roc would surely delete her if he knew. “You are extremely persuasive,” he agreed, kissing her. “If it were solely up to me, I would do what you say”

  She sighed. “Well, I tried.” She looked around. “Where is your woman?”

  “She hasn’t come to you?”

  “No. I remain myself”

  They were in bed together, both bare. “You could have faked it,” he said. “I might not have realized.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Oh, Andromeda, I think you’re a fine woman, and I will help you any way I can. But this—”

  “I understand. You can’t help me.”

  “I don’t think I could resist you, if—”

  “There’s a peculiar ethic. Let’s sleep.”

  “Of course,” he agreed faintly.

  They slept.

  “Cyrus”

  He woke, recognizing the voice. “Anonymous!”

  “Sorry I was late. I got involved in something. Did I miss anything?”

  “When she realized you weren’t coming, she let me be.”

  “Suddenly I like this woman.”

  “I do too. We have to help her somehow. But I can’t swear allegiance to the Roc.”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  “We’ll think of something,” he echoed. But he feared there was nothing.

  15 ORIENTA

  In the morning the troupe pulled up stakes and moved out of Adver City. On the surface it had been a successful presentation, and they knew the performances had been appreciated by the villagers. But they also knew that the village was under the sway of a malign creature the people could not escape. That damped down any joy they might have felt.

  Andromeda came to bid them parting. “We do appreciate your visit,” she said. “It was a rare plea sure, and we loved your plays. Especially the strife between the good Magician and his bothersome wives.”

  “Thank you,” Cyrus said. Then, lowering his voice: “Somehow, someday—”

  Andromeda shook her head. “There is nothing.” Then she transformed into a lovely dragonfly and flew away.

  Cyrus felt horribly guilty. But she was probably right. Not only was there nothing he or anyone else could do, it was dangerous even to mention it.

  Curtis joined Cyrus as they walked. “I had expected amalign atmosphere. Instead I found decent folk under the shadow of repression.”

  “That is the case,” Cyrus agreed. “What is next on our itinerary?”

  “Necess City, governed by a woman named Orienta”

  Cyrus quailed. “Why do I suspect I will be nighting at her house?”

  “The Roc has set things up to try to welcome and convert visitors. It seems persuasion is easier than outright conquest. Attractive women are a likely means.”

  “Andromeda was attractive more than physically,” Cyrus said. “She’s no enemy.”

  “I wouldn’t know. But I suspect it will be no easier in Necess.”

  “That is my fear”

  Curtis moved on, and Cyrus saw Crabapple join him. Evidently that relationship was working out.

  Then Rhythm’s mind joined his. I can’t get over how she let you be when I wasn’t there.

  “I think Andromeda first saw me as a prospect for conversion, possibly saving her people,” he murmured subv
ocally. “But as she got to know me, her conscience came into play and she had to warn me of the danger. So she sacrificed her hope”

  She still could have taken you in bed.

  “Not when she started to appreciate me as a person. Sex was one of the tools she was willing to use on a stranger, not a potential friend”

  We’ve got to help her, somehow.

  “If we destroy the Roc, will his spells dissipate?”

  Not according to our information. Most spells survive their makers.

  Which left them helpless in that respect. Cyrus felt miserable.

  Me too.

  He thought of something else. “You might have read her mind to learn the Roc’s weakness”

  I tried. She doesn’t know it.

  “Maybe the next one—Orienta of Necess City—will. If she takes me in, and you come to her, maybe then you can read her mind”

  I can try. It will help if you pose the question to her. She may not answer you, but I would still be able to read it in her mind.

  Cyrus wondered again whether Rhythm had invoked the Decade spell before coming to Andromeda, but still hesitated to ask.

  I did. I tried to come without it, but the Adult Conspiracy bounced me from her body.

  “You tried to cheat!”

  I love you regardless of my age, she thought defensively. I want to possess you, or what ever it is, as I am now. And remember.

  He did not argue the case, but was glad she had not succeeded in cheating. He loved her, but she was after all a child, and he supported the enforcement of the Adult Conspiracy.

  I read that!

  Oops.

  Necess was a village very like the last. This time Cyrus went in with Piper, so as not to seem to favor one messenger over another. She rode Don Donkey, with whom she got along well, and her friend Dusty tagged along as he usually did, whirling up stray leaves.

  As before, the people largely ignored them. They were doing the regular village things, harvesting pies and milkweed pods, repairing their houses, and the children were playing children’s games. But none of them seemed to have muchenthusiasm; they were merely doing what was necessary. It was as if they were under a looming cloud, and Cyrus had a fair notion of its nature.

  They came to the Elder’s house in the center. The door opened as they arrived, and a petite winged girl came out. She looked barely older than Piper.

  “Hello,” Cyrus said. “I am Cyrus Cyborg, and this is Piper, and Don, my robot Donkey. And Dusty Dust Devil,” he added as Dusty coalesced to solid form. “We represent a touring troupe. We were wondering whether—”

  “Yes, the news is around,” the girl said. “You played at Adver. I am Orienta, appointed Elder of Necess”

  Cyrus’s data bank whirred. “Daughter of Gloha Goblin-Harpy and Graeboe Giant?”

  “Why yes! How did you know?”

  “I am part machine. I have a memory bank that contains the public record.”

  “Ah, you are another crossbreed!”

  “Yes. My father is a robot, my mother a barbarian human. There are many crossbreeds in Xanth.”

  “I am one too,” Piper said. “My father is Hiatus Human, and my mother is Desiree Dryad”

  Orienta smiled. “Welcome to our village. I mean, city. But I have to tell you—”

  “That this place is under the sway of Ragna Roc,” he said. “We learned that at Adver.”

  “Yes. That frightens some folk.” She opened the door. “Do come in. Your donkey too, if he’s house broken; I love equines”

  Cyrus exchanged half a glance with Piper. “Don doesn’t leave poop, just ashes.” He did not say more about the donkey, preferring that his full nature not be known, and Don understood. They followed Orienta inside.

  The house had an opening in the ceiling, but no stairs. Orienta, being winged, didn’t need stairs. But above that Cyrus could also see a hole in the roof. She evidently liked the freedom of the sky.

  “Let’s get to know each other before we talk business,” Orienta said. “I am fourteen, and my talent is to conjure things from the East.”

  “East of where?” Piper asked.

  “East of wherever I happen to be. They tend to be artistic and ornate. I don’t do it much because I can’t be sure whether I am stealing them from someone who needs them.”

  “I am thirteen, and my talent is healing,” Piper said. “I have a small part in a play: one of the Good Magician’s wives.”

  “So you’re an actress!” Orienta exclaimed. “Oh, I envy you!” She turned to Dusty. “Are you an actor too?”

  “No, just a friend,” he said. “We’ve known each other ever since she was one and I was two. I bashed my arm coming out of a spin, and she grabbed it and healed it. Or at least made it hurt less so it could heal in peace, in time. She didn’t mind my being a devil.”

  “So you’re my age,” Orienta said. “I don’t mind either. I think your horns are cute”

  The two looked at each other. Then both of them blushed.

  “I fashioned Don from spare robot parts,” Cyrus said, to fill in what might have become an awkward silence. “So he’s a bit clunky, but he understands human talk.”

  “May I pet him?”

  “Certainly”

  Orienta went to pet Don on the shoulder. “Oh! You’re warm! And you smell wonderfully smoky.”

  “He burns wood,” Cyrus explained. “He has to eat another stick or log every so often”

  Orienta returned to her chair. She sighed. “I don’t think I can postpone it any longer. We have to get down to business. That is always the case, in Necess City.”

  “We would like to put on our plays for your villagers,” Cyrus said.

  “That, too,” Orienta agreed.

  “What other business did you have in mind?” Cyrus asked, already knowing it.

  “To convert you to enlisting with Ragna Roc. It’s why I’m here. To talk any visitors into it, if I can. Especially ones with useful skills, such as putting on plays. I really have to try.”

  “Why?” Piper asked.

  “Because my parents are here in Necess City. They found it to be a nice village with nice people who didn’t mind them being crossbreeds. Well, Father isn’t, technically; he’s really a changebreed.”

  “A what?”

  “He was an invisible giant. Then he fell in love with Mother, who is a goblin- harpy crossbreed, and agreed to be transformed to a male goblin- harpy so he could be with her. Some folk don’t like crossbreeds or changebreeds, but here it was okay, so they settled. It was nice, until—”

  She paused, but no one else spoke.

  “Until Ragna Roc came,” she resumed after a moment. “He changed everything.”

  “But things look much the same,” Cyrus said. “The villagers are going about their normal lives, as far as we can tell.”

  “They have to look that way, or they will be punished,” Orienta said. “Ragna prefers to take over by persuasion, but if that doesn’t work, he does it by force. Sometimes there doesn’t seem to be much difference.”

  “But there should be all the difference in the world of Xanth,” Cyrus said.

  “That depends.” She looked uncomfortable.

  “How did he persuade you?” Piper asked.

  “He sent his Minions in to give us the word. We all had to swear fealty to him, and serve his interests henceforth, or be deleted.”

  “Please,” Piper said. “Tell us the whole story”

  Orienta started describing it, and Cyrus found he was ableto imagine it as if he had been there. Two men marched into the village. They were nondescript, but carried themselves with authority. “Gather round folk,” one called. “We are Damien and Demetrius. We have a message from Ragna Roc, the Emperor of Birds”

  The people gathered, curious. Orienta’s family was among them. “What’s going on?” Graeboe demanded.

  “You—all of you—will hereby swear fealty to the Roc, and serve him loyally the rest of your lives, doing what ev
er he or his appointed Minions require of you,” Damien said. “Or else”

  This presumption annoyed more than one villager. “Or else what?” Graeboe asked.

  “Or else you will be deleted.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will cease to exist on this mortal plane. You will become an illusion”

  Graeboe shook his head. “This is laughable.”

  “The Roc’s first directive is for this village to be renamed Necess City, and to provide good housing for us, and appealing women.” Damien glanced around. “You,” he said, beckoning to a pretty farmer’s daughter named Lita. “Come to me”

  Lita looked around uncertainly. She was too young to know what any man would want with her.

  “Now,” the man snapped.

  Lita heeded the voice of command and went to him.

  “And for Demetrius—” He glanced around again, then fixed on Orienta. “You”

  Orienta wasn’t sure what this meant, but it seemed that her father did. “My daughter is fourteen.”

  “Who cares? She’s pretty. This is the new order.”

  “No,” Graeboe said firmly.

  “You are refusing a direct command?” Damien asked, surprised.

  “You have no authority to issue any commands,” Graeboe said. “And certainly none to bother innocent girls.”

  “Then we shall have to do it the hard way,” Damien said with a certain ugly relish. “Ragna will make a demonstration.” He lifted one hand to the sky.

  In half a moment there was a dark blot in the distant sky. It expanded rapidly. It was a bird—a big bird. In fact it was a roc. The monstrous creature glided down to land behind the two men.

  “This family is balky,” Damien said, pointing to Graeboe, Gloha, and Orienta.

  The giant bird’s huge glittering eyes fixed on the three of them. Then something changed. Orienta felt oddly light. “What happened?” she asked her parents. But no sound came out.

  Her mother’s mouth moved, but again there was no sound. Something was definitely wrong.

  Orienta ran to her mother, needing her warm comforting embrace. But instead of contact there was nothing. She ran right through Gloha.

  She turned, astonished. How could this have happened? It was as though her mother didn’t exist—yet there she was.

  Then the truth sank in. They had been deleted. They had no material substance. They were ghosts.