Xone of Contention

by Anthony, Piers

  Ted brought in a number of dry sticks for the fire, and Pia thanked him. He stepped on his own toes and almost blushed; he didn’t know how to handle thanks from an adult.

  Monica brought pillows. They were dry, and promised to be useful for sitting on, and for sleeping on later. Pia thanked her also, and she reacted much the way Ted had. They were not bad children, just active and sometimes impertinent.

  What was interesting was the way they brought these things: each in turn held the locket they had found before, and spoke to it: “Out, sticks,” or “Out, pillows,” and the things had abruptly appeared before it. That was a most useful and capacious locket.

  Justin returned with the fireweed. This was dull green stuff. But when he laid it in the hearth and said “Fire,” it burst into brightly colored flame. The light radiated out, blessedly warm.

  Then Breanna returned with an armful of dark brown leggy substance. It was hard to tell where she left off and it began. Pia forced herself to look. And smell. It was chocolate in the shape of spiders. Oh. She was glad she hadn’t made a scene about that.

  Then one of the spider legs moved. Pia stifled a scream.

  “Oops, I got a live one,” Breanna said. She picked it up and carried it to the fringe of the glade. “They slough off their old skins as they grow, and those are pure chocolate. But I wouldn’t care to eat a live one.”

  “For sure,” Pia agreed weakly. The two children tittered; she wasn’t sure whether they were laughing at her imitation of Breanna, or her alarm about the spiders.

  They sat around the fire and warmed. But their clothing remained clinging and clammy. The others did not look any more comfortable than Pia felt.

  She would have to take the initiative. “Let me make sure I understand,” she said, standing up. “The Adult Conspiracy decrees that no child shall hear any bad words or see panties. Is that right?”

  “That is correct,” Justin agreed.

  “And no child shall be told or shown the secret of summoning storks.”

  “Correct.” But he looked a little nervous, as if distrusting what she was leading up to.

  “Well, none of us will be doing any of those things,” Pia said. “But we do need to clean and dry our clothing. So I am going to wash mine.” She reached under her blouse and unfastened her bra. Then she drew blouse and bra off together.

  Naturally both men stared at her bare upper torso. But no undergarment had been shown, so they did not freak out. Of course she knew from her subterranean experience with Justin that bras alone did not do it, but she didn’t care to speak of that. The children looked also, but immediately went back to eating chocolate; there was nothing interesting to see.

  Pia removed her shoes, then drew down her skirt and panties together. The eyeballs of the two men expanded by five per cent, and their jaws dropped by a similar amount, but again no undergarment had been exposed. There was no freak-out, and the children remained bored.

  “Now I shall do my laundry,” Pia said, privately relieved. She hadn’t been quite sure that she would get away with this, and wasn’t sure of the penalty if the Conspiracy stepped in. “Then I shall retire to a tent, with Edsel to keep me warm.” She carried her clothing to the bank of the river.

  There was a pause. Then she heard the reaction. “For sure! No violation.” And in a moment Breanna joined her, carrying her own bundle of clothing.

  Then at last the men, oddly most reticent, did the same. The children, being half demon, formed their clothing from their own substance, so didn’t need to wash it separately.

  There was a swirl of smoke. For a moment Pia was afraid that their fire had spread out of control, but then a pair of eyes formed, and it coalesced into Demon Vore. He looked at the four adults, and his eyeballs too expanded a size as he surveyed the girls, but he made no comment.

  “About time,” Ted said.

  “It’s really boring here,” Monica agreed.

  “So I see,” Vore replied. “Tomorrow Metria will take you to visit Robota.”

  Both children clapped their little hands in delight. Then Vore swept them up and puffed into swirling smoke. One swirl was white, another brown, and their shapes were oddly suggestive as they dissipated.

  “Did you see his eyes?” Breanna asked. “One reflected a white nymph, the other a brown nymph.”

  “I wonder who those could have been?” Pia said. Then they both laughed.

  The men came up behind them. “If I heard correctly,” Justin said, “We shall not have to baby-sit the children tomorrow.”

  “That’s a relief,” Pia said.

  “However, we have a small problem,” he continued. “We have just two tents, and while Edsel and Pia can share one for warmth—”

  Time to stifle this. “The Conspiracy frowns on stork summoning when one of the parties is under eighteen,” Pia said. “But I don’t believe it says anything about sharing warmth. Does it?”

  “Ah, no, but—”

  “So until your clothing is dry, you had better stay close to Breanna. For warmth, after you both have suffered a chill. This is merely routine common sense.”

  “True. But—”

  Pia turned a severe glance on him. “You are not going to summon any stork, are you?”

  “Of course not! But—”

  “So there is no problem, is there?” When he hesitated, she repeated: “Is there?”

  “For sure not,” Breanna said eagerly, and hauled him off to a tent.

  Edsel joined her in the other tent, and closed off the ends. “Sometimes I think I could get to like your style,” he said, “if I didn’t already love you.”

  “Shut up and warm me,” she said. But she was pleased. Their tacit deal required her to make him deliriously happy for the night, and she knew exactly how to do that, and was doing it now, but sometimes she liked doing it better than other times. She appreciated his recognition of the way she had solved the problem of wet clothing.

  He spoiled it by only one comment. “I wish I could win you back.”

  “We’re not yet out of Xanth,” she replied, hinting that his ploy was not yet lost. But it was a mere courtesy; she still intended to divorce him after this was over. Then she would see about studying Mundane environmentalism. Justin was a continuing font of information and insight into all things natural, but the things here were mostly magical. She would need to learn the non-magic variants.

  “Poor Justin,” he said. “He can’t do this, and he wants to so much.”

  “Maybe I can educate him.” For she could say things to the man that Breanna could not. Because despite her sixteen year old body, she was not sixteen, and there was precious little the Adult Conspiracy had left to show her.

  Sixteen: she loved being physically sixteen again. The merest twitch of this body could make a man flip.

  She twitched. Edsel flipped. Ah, there was true power. He was completely unable to resist her. And, with the magic of this land, she could freak him out whenever she wanted to, just by putting on the right bit of clothing. He thought he was having his will of her, but she was having her will of him, making him perform with desperate enthusiasm, thinking every notion was his own. How little he knew! How little men ever knew.

  In due course Edsel wore himself out, and she was able to relax. She had not thought to bring any Mundane stork signal interrupters, but there were other ways, if she were unlucky. And it did guarantee Edsel’s complete cooperation on the quest.

  She wondered idly what it would be like to seduce Justin. She could surely do it, if she chose. But it would not be ethical, and with her appreciation of the need to save the trees had come an appreciation of the rules of that game. Strictly hands off the Companions. Anyway, Breanna was her friend.

  Still, it had been fun making both men stare. She did not merely love this, she actually reveled in this sixteen year old physique, and wanted to show it off while she had it. Once she returned to Mundania, she would revert to her real body. That one was not as good; her necessary consu
mption of sugar, to counterbalance the insulin shots, had led to some weight gain. If this body was a 10, that one was an 8, and descending. But maybe she would now have the stamina to do the dieting and exercise required to whip it back into shape, working around her condition.

  She slept, surprisingly comfortable on the pillows, in the warmth of the tent and Edsel’s proximity. Their session had really heated him up, and that in turn warmed her.

  In the morning she disengaged from Edsel’s too-fond embrace and went out to recover her clothes. They were where she had left them, hanging on sticks by the gently blazing fire, and quite dry. Someone must have tended the fire during the night, for it was in good order. She put on her bra and panties, then reached for her skirt—and saw Justin. The man had evidently been out gathering more food, and come upon her unawares, and freaked out. He was fully dressed, standing frozen.

  Well, she knew how to handle that. Interesting that the sight of her underwear itself had not affected Justin when he tended the fire in the night. It was only such apparel on the body that did it. As was the case, to a lesser extent, in Mundania. Like soda and ice cream, it took a combination to do the trick. What would be the effect of panties on a dressmaker’s mannequin? There had to be some special magic, because Edsel was also affected, as Breanna had demonstrated when she mooned both men with her black panties. Edsel had seen similar sights many times before, both from her and the steamy movies he liked. Yet in Xanth he had completely freaked out. So was it something in the air?

  She donned the rest of her clothing, then snapped her fingers. The man recovered. “Hello, Justin,” she said cheerfully, as if there had been no break.

  “Hello, Pia,” he answered, unaware of his time out. He set down the armful of pies and milkweed pods he had foraged. They would have a good breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”

  No need to go into the first half hour. “Very well. And you?”

  He fidgeted. “I—I have never before been that close to a—a—”

  “Naked girl?”

  “Whatever,” he agreed, halfway emulating Metria. “I very much admire and love Breanna, but I was so sorely tempted to—to—”

  His diffidence was charming, but probably pointless. “Let me ask you some things. If two people both know the content of the Adult Conspiracy, and both wish to indulge in an aspect of its mystery, is there any reason they should not?” She took one of his pies and began warming it over the fire.

  “Well, that depends on their ages. If one—”

  “But does it? Doesn’t the Conspiracy govern what they may learn or say, rather than what they actually do?”

  “Why, surely it governs also what they do. I—”

  “Breanna mentioned a man called Ralph, who was supposed to guide her to the Isle of Women last year, who attempted to summon the stork with her.”

  “Why yes,” he agreed. “I was with her at the time, in her mind. She kicked him into Para, who carried him hastily away. That was an ugly scene.”

  “Why did she have to fight him off? I mean, if the Conspiracy is enforced in actions, why couldn’t she have just lain there, and he would have been unable to violate it? The same way we are unable to say bad words in her presence, like bleep?” Her pie was warm enough; she took a bite.

  He stared at her. “I never thought of that. I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “I do. She did need to fight him off. Which means that aspect is not magically enforced. Some things can be done, but not spoken of, such as natural functions—which this happens to be.” She couldn’t identify the flavor of pie. “What kind is this?”

  “Brownberry. Similar to blackberry, but less so, and with a mocha flavor.” Then he returned to the other subject. “But surely it must be enforced, because—”

  “Because it is enforced in every other respect. Maybe you are right. In which case, you don’t need to worry. Next time you are with her, don’t hold back. The Conspiracy will stop you.” She decided that there was indeed a hint of chocolate and coffee flavor in the pie.

  He was clearly nonplused. “But suppose—”

  “Suppose it doesn’t. Then it must be because it doesn’t apply to two people who are knowledgeable and willing, and who love each other. At least when both are at least sixteen. Doesn’t that make sense?”

  “But I’ve always believed—”

  “I’ve always believed that magic doesn’t exist,” she said. “Sometimes long-held beliefs are mistaken. I think the practical thing to do is to try a thing to see whether it works.” She sucked on a milkweed pod, getting the fresh milk.

  “Possibly you are correct,” he said dubiously.

  “Justin, you know an enormous amount about nature, but not much about romance. So don’t take my word; just let yourself be natural with her, and see what happens. Whatever happens must be right. Isn’t that so?”

  “Perhaps it is,” he conceded.

  She had finished her pie. She was satisfied; she had set out to educate him, and might have done Breanna a considerable favor in the process. It was quid pro quo: Pia was monopolizing Justin by day, so she was enhancing him for Breanna by night.

  The flap of a tent moved. Breanna emerged. “Oh, I must have overslept,” she said.

  “It happens,” Pia said, not deceived. The girl had been listening, and she was no fool. Justin would be in for the night of his long life, tonight.

  Breanna had no clothing. She fetched hers and took it back into the tent. She emerged a moment later, dressed. Justin had been with her all night, without clothing, but this was daylight; he seemed about ready to faint. And of course the girl had done it deliberately; she could have called for her clothing to be passed into the tent. No fool, indeed.

  Then Edsel emerged from his tent. “What, am I the last one up?” he asked. “Oh, the shame of it!”

  He was too theatrical. He had been listening too. Pia grabbed his clothing and tossed it to him before he could come out.

  The others ate, and then they took down the tents and put the blankets and pillows in the boat, together with the rest of the pies. They were ready to travel.

  “But where should we go?” Edsel asked. “We know what the problem is, but not what to do about it.”

  “The Good Magician’s castle,” Breanna said. “We’ll ask him. He always has the answers.”

  “However, there may be a complication,” Justin cautioned.

  “For sure,” Breanna agreed. “It’s a challenge to get in, and he charges a year’s service or the equivalent for each Answer.”

  “But he does deliver,” Justin said.

  Pia considered. “We can’t do any year’s service. We’re here for only a few days.”

  “Perhaps, considering the importance of the mission, he will make an exception,” Justin said.

  “Also considering who else is involved in this exchange,” Breanna said. She meant Nimby, the Demon X(A/N)TH.

  Justin nodded. “Pertinent thought.”

  “So let’s go there,” Pia said. “Do you know the way?”

  “For sure. That’s our job—to take you safely where you want to go.”

  They got into the boat, and it paddled off downstream. That was faster than the upstream trip had been. Soon they came to the slows and the rapids. They moved out onto the land. That was the nice thing about this boat: it wasn’t limited.

  “We had better check in,” Edsel said. “It’s that time.”

  “For sure.” Breanna gave him the Ear.

  “Edsel and Pia checking in,” he said into it. Then he put it to his own ear, to hear its reply. He looked surprised. “Nimby and Chlorine didn’t check in yet? Well, maybe they forgot. We’ll check again, later.” He returned the Ear.

  “Do you think they’re in trouble?” Pia asked.

  “Com Passion doesn’t know. There was no indication of trouble yesterday, so maybe they’re just late.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. But this made her uneasy.

  Then the boat stumbled an
d stopped moving. They hastily piled out, and Justin looked. “You are missing some toes,” he said, appalled.

  Para bobbed, his way of nodding.

  “But that’s not supposed to happen,” Breanna protested. “His feet are magically protected.”

  Justin looked around. “No wonder,” he said, advancing on a patch of milky white weeds. “You walked over lack toes. It’s extremely intolerant. Even a protective spell may not suffice to counter it.”

  “And if we had been walking, we’d be lacking toes too,” Breanna said, shuddering. “We must help Para get his toes back.”

  Especially considering that riding in the boat was an awful lot easier than walking. But Pia kept her mouth shut; it wasn’t a worthy thought.

  “Doesn’t Xanth have healing springs?” Edsel asked.

  “Yes, but none close by here,” Justin said. “However, I believe there is a quack doctor in the area.”

  Pia started to laugh, then realized that he wasn’t joking. So she stifled it.

  “Para’s father was a quack,” Edsel said.

  “And his mother was a dream boat,” Breanna said. “So a quack doctor should be fine.”

  “Perhaps we can get directions,” Justin said.

  At that point a young man came from the path ahead. He wore a loose shirt and saggy trousers. Pia was closest, so she hailed him. “Hello!” She smiled winningly.

  He paused. Young men tended to, when she hailed them and smiled.

  “I am Pia, and I would really like some information.”

  “I am Don. My talent is—”

  “Yes, of course. Do know where the quack doctor is?” Then she stopped to stare.

  For a young woman now stood where the man had been. She wore a shirt that was tight across the front, and trousers that were tight across the back. “Changing gender at will,” she said. “That’s his story. I am Dot.”

  “You—you’re the same person?” Pia asked. She had seen some amazing things in Xanth, but nothing quite like this.

  The man reappeared, with the clothing losing its spots of tightness. His hair was tied back in a ponytail that could have applied to either gender. “Yes. I do know where the quack doctor lives. That’s her story. Right this way.”