Pewter was interested, so Edsel described those devices in greater detail, and the others saw about making them. He returned to his study and resumed tracking Grey. Pia remained in her chair with her eyes closed, either locked into the past or asleep.
They marched east, back toward Italy. But Grey went ahead, because he needed to be in Xanth before Trent got there. He used his magic to nullify the deadly shield that was now there, and the familiar magic landscape returned.
Robota came back to full animation. She was a golem, but used illusion to change her appearance and her reality adjustment to magnify her size. Now she resembled an elf, still much smaller than Grey, but able to keep up with him on her own. Edsel assumed that Grey looked like himself, but Robota now resembled an elfin Pia, quite pretty.
They spent a night on the path to the North Village, as it was a fair hike from the border. The path was not enchanted, and there were dangers, but Grey nullified them. Robota was metallic in essence, and could hardly be hurt by routine monsters, but she was practicing the ways of living femininity, so as to be able to fool the Storm King.
They found a mush room that was big enough. The mush was mostly on the outside, and the room mainly inside, so it worked well enough. They brought pies in, and Grey ate one while Robota emulated him. “I can take bites in my mouth, but can’t keep them there,” she said. “What should I do with them?”
Grey considered. “Maybe make spot illusions to conceal them, and set them down.”
“But then there will be a growing pile of pie bites on the table.”
He considered again. “Maybe make spot illusions of bites, and of bites missing from the pie.”
“Yes!” she agreed, pleased. She practiced, and soon had a reasonably realistic mode of eating. When the pie was finished, she quietly moved it elsewhere on the table, and let it revert to complete, as if it were a new one.
“And my clothing,” she said. “Do I have it right?”
“I’m not sure exactly what the elves of this time wear,” Grey said. “But maybe you can represent yourself as one from a distant tree, with different conventions.”
“Yes. I shall be Silica, a princess of the Mineral Elves.” She shifted her outfit to a dark gray blouse and skirt.
“That should do,” Gray agreed.
“Now to be realistically female, how much here?” she asked, indicating her bosom.
“Well—”
“Say when it’s right,” she said. Her bosom expanded.
“Ah—” he started, evidently uncertain how to handle this.
It became full, then large, then huge, then so large it burst out of the blouse and threatened to fill the room.
“Let’s start over,” Grey said quickly.
The monstrous breasts vanished, and the slightly filled blouse reappeared. The bosom started expanding again. “When!” Grey said, stopping it at a reasonable magnitude.
After that they covered the legs, until she had a rather nice set under a tastefully brief skirt. “And don’t show your—”
“I know,” she said. “They freak men out.” Then she reconsidered. “But I think I’d like to do that, some time.”
“Not on this mission,” he said firmly. “We can’t risk mischief.”
Grey slept, and Edsel’s window closed. But Pia’s continued. “She’s experimenting with poses,” she reported. “Breathing deeply, crossing her legs.”
“She doesn’t sleep,” he said. “So she has time to work things out.”
Pia opened her eyes and looked around. “What time is it in real life?”
Breanna looked up from her card game. “Early evening. You’ve been at it a while.”
“Can we pick them up when we want to?” Pia asked. “Like in their morning, when it’s our morning?”
“Yes,” Tristan said, playing a card. They seemed to be playing a new, different game of interactive solitaire, with Pewter using his new joystick to deal smiley-face cards. Edsel decided not to inquire.
“Does this suite have a bedroom?” Pia asked.
A door appeared. “It does now,” Tristan said.
Pia got up and opened the door. “Is it private?”
Tristan considered. “Technically, nothing is private in this cave. My master governs all of it. But apart from that context, it is private.”
Pia nodded. “Then come on, Ed.”
Edsel was glad to comply. He joined her in the bedroom, and found it was very like their own bedroom at home. It was almost as if they were back in Mundania.
“Do you know what Robota’s doing now?” Pia asked as she joined him in bed.
“No. My window is closed.”
“She’s practicing wiles.”
“But Grey’s asleep.”
“Yes. I think she knows better than to try them on him when he’s awake; he’s faithful to Ivy. But now she’s pretending. She wants to be a real woman.”
“I suppose it’s sort of sad, being an animate creature of metal.”
“Yes. She does have feelings; I can feel them. She knows she exists for a purpose, and that purpose isn’t to be a normal woman. But because she has to emulate one, she has the emotions, and that becomes painful.”
“I never thought about the morality of making robots or golems before,” he said. “But does seem cruel.”
“Too bad she can’t be real.”
“Grundy Golem became real. Maybe if she does a good job on this mission, she will be similarly rewarded.”
“I hope so.” Then Pia proceeded to put him into the kind of rapture only she could manage.
In the morning they emerged from the bedroom to find that another bedroom had been formed for Justin and Breanna. Edsel wondered how far the girl had managed to take the former tree this time. He knew that Pia had been encouraging him, but old inhibitions died hard. He felt guilty for the thought, but would have loved to snoop on their nocturnal activity.
Tristan appeared. “Is everything in order?”
Edsel started to answer, the realized that the question was actually about the time travelers. He closed his eyes and tuned in.
Grey and Robota were walking along the path. “Yes, they seem to be headed south, after a safe night.”
Edsel and Pia had a Mundane breakfast of cereal and fruit and cocoa. It was amazing how Pewter could shape reality within his cave. Then they tuned in again on the time travelers.
They were approaching a female centaur, who was bare breasted, in the fashion of her species. Now Edsel knew that Grey did notice such things, for the image remained firmly framed in his vision. “Hello,” he said. “I am Grey Human, and this is my companion Silica Elf.”
“I am Cassie Centaur,” the centaur replied. “Or if you prefer, Cassie Girl.” She became a human woman, suitably clothed. “My parents suffered an encounter at a love spring, so I am a crossbreed.”
“My talent is minor prophecy,” Grey said, completing his introduction.
“Mine is to go in and out of the Void.”
“That is remarkable,” Grey said. “I would not care to go near the Void. But I would have thought your talent would be the ability to change between your two forms.”
“No, that’s inherent. Most crossbreeds assume aspects of both parents; I must be one or the other, in turn. So it is independent of talent. Some of the mertaurs have talents too.”
“The mertaurs?”
“They are quite rare, so it’s not surprising you haven’t encountered them. Centaur/merfolk crossbreeds, with human heads and arms, equine bodies, and aquatic tails. I’m going to visit them now.”
“We wish you a good visit. We are going to the North Village to see the king.”
“You are on the right path. Proceed on south.”
They separated amicably and went their ways. Robota was pleased because her identity had not been challenged. Centaurs were intelligent, observant folk, so that was a good sign.
Edsel took several small jumps forward, bypassing the hours of dull walking. Pia k
ept pace with him, so they wouldn’t get out of phase with each other.
Grey and Robota entered the North Village. This was where the Storm King lived. But before they approached the rather meager palace, they checked in with the village elders, Roland and Bianca. These were, Justin explained as he and Breanna emerged from their bedroom, the parents of Bink, who had recently been exiled from Xanth for lacking a magic talent.
Grey and Robota needed an introduction to King Aeolus, and Roland and Bianca were the ones to do it.
“I am a traveling man with the talent of minor prophecy,” Grey said when Roland answered the door. “This is Silica, of the Mineral Elves, whom I am protecting.” Robota was in regular elf form, about a quarter the height of Grey, but proportioned exactly like a human woman, with not too much bosom. “She is interested in studying weather, and would like to meet the Storm King. So we come to you, as Village elders, to ask for an introduction to the King.”
Edsel opened his eyes. “Is this ethical?” he asked.
“For not sure,” Breanna said. “What’s happening?”
“Grey is claiming to have a talent of minor prophecy. This is the second time he has done so.”
“That is his cover story,” Tristan said. “You will understand that they can under no circumstances tell the truth, for that would lead to immediate chaos as every person sought to know his personal future, and Xanth would be changed irredeemably. Neither can they avoid identifying themselves, for that could arouse suspicion. So they must have persuasive false identities.”
“But this is lying.”
Pia looked at him. “When did a lie ever stop you, Ed?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you wanted to get a girl into bed.”
“That’s different!”
“Perhaps this is not a fit subject for discussion at this time,” Justin said.
“Why not?” Breanna asked. “I’m interested. It’s okay to lie when—?”
“I apologize!” Edsel said. “I’m sorry I brought up the subject.”
“I guess lying in a good cause is okay,” Breanna said doubtfully.
“Oh?” Pia said. “The end justifies the means?”
“Well—”
“The end of getting a girl into bed?”
“You have a point,” Breanna said. “It’s not right.”
“But the alternative would be to completely change Xanth’s present,” Tristan said.
Pia and Breanna looked at him. “Oh, that,” Breanna said.
Edsel wanted to get off the subject. “Why don’t we agree that lying is wrong, but that what Grey and Robota are doing is role playing. They must maintain their roles, as the truth would either be not believed, or would have devastating consequences.”
The others considered, then exchanged nods.
“What is happening?” Tristan asked.
Edsel and Pia closed their eyes. “And the King banished him,” Bianca was saying. “Because he couldn’t demonstrate any magic.”
Edsel repeated that to the others.
“She’s talking about Bink,” Justin said. “He was believed to have no magic. Actually he has Magician-caliber magic, but it is indefinable.”
“He will return,” Grey said reassuringly. “I can’t tell exactly how or where, but I foresee his return, in good health, and acceptance in Xanth.”
“Oh, that’s such a relief!” Bianca said.
“Is she trusting, or desperate?” Pia asked.
“Desperate,” Justin said. “By all accounts she was a fine person and loving mother. Her talent was the replay: she could in a spot area set time back five seconds, so that a scene could be briefly replayed. It was very useful when someone misstepped or hit his thumb with a rock. Roland’s talent was the freeze: he could make a person stop in place, not even breathing, until freed. As a couple, they could be formidable, but they never abused their powers.”
The appointment with the king was made. Edsel and Pia skipped ahead to that. They didn’t seem to be able to return to any prior scenes, so learned to be cautious about fast-forwarding. But so far there was no indication of any trouble. No one questioned the identity of the time travelers, and they were making no waves.
But Edsel was uneasy. He knew that sometimes the simplest things could go drastically wrong. In this case, the wrongness could be extremely subtle and extremely unfortunate. He refused to be lulled into complacency.
That afternoon, in the past, Robota got to meet Aeolus the Storm King. He was an old man, feeble, and surely not much longer for kingship.
“I am Silica, of the Mineral Elves,” Robota said, flashing her most winning smile. She was getting it down well; it almost lighted the room.
“And who are you?” Aeolus asked Grey.
“I am Grey, with the talent of minor prophecy. I am helping Silica find her way through the human kingdom.”
Justin nodded when Edsel reported that. “Xanth elves associate with particular elm trees, and their strength is inversely proportional to their distance from their home trees,” he said. “They are super-strong near their own elf elms, but very weak when they are too far from them. An elf maiden would need help in the human domain.”
“The King is inquiring their business with him,” Pia reported.
Edsel tuned back in. Robota was answering. “I am studying weather, as it affects our activities. Please demonstrate a storm for me.”
The Storm King’s answer was gruff. “No.”
“But I need to observe weather magic, so I can understand it.” “My talent is not a parlor game,” Aeolus said. “I invoke it only when there is legitimate need.”
Robota argued, but the King would not budge. “The truth is that his talent faded with age,” Justin said. “He seldom invoked it toward the end.”
“Did you tell them that?” Edsel asked.
“Oh, yes, they know,” Tristan said. “But the King still has some power, and she can analyze its nature when he uses it. Then my master will be able to duplicate it with full power. So they will do their utmost to get him to demonstrate it.”
“Get on it,” Pia said, her eyes closed. “This is getting heavy.”
Edsel closed his yes. “A wiggle swarm to the south?” the King was asking incredulously. “There hasn’t been one of those for decades.”
“Nevertheless, I see one coming,” Grey insisted. “You could destroy it with a solid storm.”
“Why should I believe the word of a stranger?” Aeolus asked.
Grey spread his hands. “I can’t prove that my prophecies are correct until they come true. But in the past they have been reasonably accurate.”
“Well, if a wiggle swarm comes, we’ll see about it,” the King decided. “I’m not at all sure a storm will blow wiggles away; they can drill right through stone.”
Edsel reported that, doing ongoing narrative as he listened; he was getting better at it. Pia corrected him on details, as she saw the same scene through Robota’s eyes and ears.
“That king may be old, but he’s not stupid,” Breanna remarked.
Then Grey found a prophecy that made an impression. “I see Evil Magician Trent returning with an army to conquer Xanth.”
“Oops,” Breanna said. “If he warns the Storm King, won’t the King stop the invasion, and Trent will never conquer Xanth, and all history be changed?”
“Not so,” Justin said. “Trent didn’t take Xanth by force. Aeolus died, and they gave Trent the crown.”
“Oh,” Breanna said ruefully. “I keep forgetting that you lived Xanth history. You were there.”
“And you are here now,” Justin said. “You were well worth waiting for.”
The Black Wave girl tried her best to blush, with imperfect success.
The Storm King seemed much more alert to this threat than the one from the wiggles. He walked to the wall where a magic mirror hung. “The border,” he said.
A picture formed in the mirror. It showed a group of men out beyond a sh
immering border. They were setting up cages on the other side of that shimmer, which Edsel realized was the deadly magic shield that prevented anyone from crossing, before Trent took power and shut it down.
“There is something happening out there,” Aeolus said. “I had better prepare.”
“So will you demonstrate your talent?” Robota asked, favoring him with her most winning smile, and a rather nice flash of elfin bosom.
Old and feeble as the King was, he was not completely immune to the wiles of lovely women. “Yes. Wait here.”
The King departed the chamber, through a door that opened magically to let him pass. Immediately Robota tried to follow, but the door balked her. Then Grey touched it, nullifying its magic, and they went through.
Aeolus was opening a magic strongbox. He reached inside to lift something out, but his hands came up empty. Yet there was a faint sparkle.
The King straightened up and turned—and saw Grey and Robota standing there. “You saw!” he said, chagrined.
“What did they see?” Edsel asked, mystified.
“We don’t know,” Tristan said. “This is new to my master.”
Then Grey caught on. “Your soul is in that box!” he said.
“But why?” Robota asked.
The king looked frightened but canny. “I will tell you, if you will promise not to tell anyone else.”
“Not within fifty years,” Grey promised, and Robota agreed. He was aware that the information was being transmitted fifty-seven years to the future. Also, spreading a truly significant secret might change Xanth history, and they couldn’t afford that.
“That’s good enough.” Aeolus took a deep breath. He was standing up straighter, and looked better, now that he had his soul with him. “This is a soular cell, made by Magician Yin/Yang centuries ago. It prevents aging and death for the person who stores his soul inside. I don’t need to have my soul with me all the time, so I store it here so I won’t die.”
“But you’re already pretty old,” Robota said.
“Yes. I got this box only a year ago, and it can’t undo the age I suffered before then. But I can remain my present age for a long time. Unfortunately, my talent remains with my soul, so when I need to invoke it, I must recover my soul for the occasion.”
Xone of Contention Page 26