Something had been bothering Gary, and now it surfaced. “All this is interesting,” he said. “But it is not accomplishing our purpose.”
“What is your purpose?” Desi asked.
“We are looking for the philter.”
Both illusions froze for a moment. Then both came back to life. “We thought you were interested in the history of Xanth,” Hanna said.
“We are,” Ins said. “But that is a means to an end. The end is the philter, which will free the gargoyles of their geis. We understand that the philter is somewhere in this city.”
Hanna exchanged a glance with Desi. Both seemed disturbed. Gary wondered again how illusions could have feelings. He also noticed that though the two still alternated speech, they were now acting at the same time. The heightened magic at the edge of the circle was enhancing them in several ways.
“We wouldn't know about that,” Desi said. “But maybe we can help you find out.”
“How?” Gary asked eagerly.
Hanna met his gaze, her face serious. “You know that Desi and I are illusions. Our roles are limited. We can show you only what we know. If you want to know more, you must get seriously into your roles.”
“What are you talking about?” Mentia asked from the circle's edge, very seriously.
“You have the roles, but you aren't truly into them,” Desi said. “You are not living them.”
“The roles,” Hiatus said. “You mean like my being Hiat the Hedonist?”
“Yes,” Hanna said. “A sinister man who argues selfinterest but whose true loyalty is shrouded.”
“And Iri the Irate,” Iris said. “The imperious Queen.”
“Menti the Mentor,” Surprise said. “Loyal nanny for Supi the Super!”
“Governess, not nanny,” Mentia said firmly.
“And Gar the Good,” Gary said. “Though I can't see that I fit any such role.”
“They are the ones who made the Xanth Interface,” Desi said. “When you live their lives, perhaps you will have what you desire.”
“Not so fast,” Iris said. “Exactly where did you two illusions come from? Why are you here showing us around and explaining things?”
“We are animations of the madness,” Hanna said.
“Drawn from images of two who thought of you at the time we were formulated. We know you have a job to do, and we are here to help you do it.”
“What job?” Iris demanded.
“That we are unable to explain,” Desi said. “But it is surely important, or you would not have come here.”
“We came here to find the philter,” Gary repeated.
Both illusions shook their heads. “You may have thought you did, but there must have been a deeper purpose,” Hanna said. “You must discover that purpose, and honor it.”
Mentia was thoughtful. “You were assigned a job by the Good Magician, Gary. He always has some devious purpose in mind, and he almost never lets anyone else know about it. Maybe we do indeed have a mission we have not realized.”
It did make obscure sense. “Then let's do what we have to do, to get it done,” Gary said.
Both illusions smiled. “Do it when you return to the palace,” Desi suggested. “You may find it a significant experience.” She darted a look at Hiatus, and Gary almost thought he saw stork wings propelling the look along. It was clear that she had not given up on Lord Hiat.
Then he glanced at Hanna, and definitely saw wings on her returning glance. But he wasn't interested, because he had found a gargoyle.
The storm passed, and soon the ogres were out again, unfolding the buildings. Nothing seemed to have come unhinged, and the city was returning to its former splendor.
At least they now knew the reason for its odd construction.
It was time to return. Gary took a last, covert, longing look at the isle where Gayle Goyle was hidden. He intended to see her again, when he could manage it.
Chapter 9
INTERFACE
As they entered the palace, a rumble from Gar's human stomach reminded him that they hadn't eaten recently. The storm had distracted them as they were about to go to breakfast. “Let's go directly to the banquet hall,” he suggested.
“Brilliant notion,” Iri agreed without irony, which was unusual for her. “I'm famished.”
“Brunch will be served presently,” Hanna said. “Just take your seats.” She and Desi bustled off into the kitchen.
The five of them sat around the huge table. Iri glanced significantly after the two illusions and spoke in a low tone. “Can we trust them?”
“No,” Gar said, remembering Gayle Goyle's warning.
“I will spy on them,” Menti said. “To make sure they are out of hearing.” She vanished.
Gar shrugged, getting into his role of educated person.
“It is not as if we are able to conceal our activity from the servants,” he pointed out. “And why should we have any concern about their motives?”
Hiat's smile almost resembled a sneer. “Always the positive outlook, eh. Gar?” he remarked.
Gar concealed his irritation, lest he spoil his reputation.
In some other setting he would have liked to present the man with an item he had once seen: a punching bag. This was an innocent paper sack that looked as if it contained something interesting, but when a person opened it, a boxing glove shot out and punched him in the snoot. “At any rate, it is best that we proceed with our business expeditiously. We shall need the servants' assistance, as we are unable to handle all the details ourselves. We are simply too few in number.”
“It's that infernal crossbreeding,” the Queen said, scowling. “There's absolutely no excuse for it, as the gargoyle is reliable and no elixir-pollution enters the city's water supply. The fools must be sneaking out of town and drinking carelessly. They think it's a myth, or that they're invulnerable, or they just don't care.”
Hiat shrugged. “This is the nature of youth, to be wild and gambling and full of potent juices.” He eyed Iri suggestively. “You look young yourself, cousin. Do you not feel the urge?”
Iri flushed angrily. “Your impertinence does not amuse us, cousin. Were your contribution not essential to the project, I would find a pretext to have you banished.”
Hiat made a rather too windy mock sigh. “Ever the cantankerous royal presence. Is it such an imposition to suggest that on rare occasions you take half a moment to relax? That would surely improve your disposition.”
Queen Iri merely glared at him. But Princess Supi evinced her amusement with a girlish giggle. It was fun to hear the adults cutting each other up verbally.
Menti reappeared. “Caution warning. Brunch is arriving.” She settled into her place.
Hanna and Desi appeared with covered platters. These turned out to bear egg-ons lined with bake-ons and bakeoffs, pot-a-toe puncakes, sinnerman toes, and red, yellow, and orange juice. Gar decided to accept it without question, suspecting that he wouldn't like the answer. Menti did not eat, but that wasn't noticeable because she was kept busy catering to the Princess. Hiat and Iri seemed to enjoy their repasts.
When they were done, Desi approached. “Are my lords and ladies ready to retire to the observatory for the day's tutoring session?”
“Certainly,” Iri snapped. “Did you think we were about to go out bean harvesting?”
“I am sure they did not think that,” Hiat said, his tone suggesting that only an idiot would have raised the issue.
“It's past season for those has-beans.”
The little princess tittered, and Lord Hiat favored her with a conspiratorial smile. It was clear that the two got along well, at the expense of other members of the group.
The rogue relative and the child.
The observatory was a dome in the upper section of the palace, shaped like a giant eyeball. They could focus it on almost anything in the line of sight, and that turned out to be a fair amount of Xanth, because it was above the height of the city wall. They could see beyond the Regi
on of Madness to the rocks and rills of normal Xanth, where harpies perched in trees, merfolk swam in rivers and lakes, and many other crossbreeds and variants disported themselves. But there were no straight human folk in view.
They had crossbred their species out of existence in Xanth, except for the desultory remnant here in Stone Hinge.
Hanna appeared. “And here are my lord's notes,” she said, opening a cabinet containing an assortment of scrolls.
“Thank you,” Gar said gruffly. He addressed Supi. “Do you recall the essence of yesterday's lesson?”
“Not at all, master tutor,” the child replied, smirking.
“Harrumph. Then we shall have to go over it again.” He unrolled a scroll.
“I'd rather go harvest has-beans.”
“Hush, child,” Menti murmured. “Don't sass Lord Gar like that.”
Supi turned a pair of eyes big with naughty innocence on her. “Then how should I sass him, nanny?”
“Governess,” Menti said patiently.
“Perhaps I can offer a suggestion,” Hiat said, his devious smile implying nothing proper.
“Perhaps you can stuff it up your nose,” the Queen retorted.
“Harrumph,” Gary repeated importantly. “I shall now review the lesson material.”
The Princess opened her mouth for a sass, but it was intercepted by a glare from the Queen and had to be stifled.
Supi made a face; evidently the sass had a bad taste when held too long in her dear little mouth. Hiat turned away, ostentatiously bored with the proceedings. Menti relaxed, seeing that the lesson was getting under way at last.
The lesson concerned the proper formulation of the spell for the Interface of Xanth. The artisans of the city of Hinge had been working on it for centuries, tediously perfecting its every trifling detail, and now at last it was ready to be invoked. It consisted of a thin veil of repulsion around the west, south, and east coasts of the peninsula of Xanth, so that no Mundanes would even think to cross into magic territory. In fact they would not even realize that they had turned away from it. They would just avoid it, satisfied that there was nothing there of interest. Or they might label it as some kind of void, a shivery sensation, a scare square or a shimmery circle. Those boats that managed to cross over into magic territory would be assumed to be lost in storms. It was good protection.
“Boooring,” the Princess muttered, yawning. It was clear that she was not the most avid scholar, and that there was nothing here of interest to her either. It was as if she were surrounded by her own little repulsion veil.
The north side of Xanth, which was now rejoining the ugly mainland of Mundania because of the disappearance of the inlet of the sea, would be covered by a veil of slightly different texture: illusion. It would make it seem that Xanth remained an island, separated from the Mundane coast by shark-filled water. Sharks were the Mundane equivalent of small sea serpents. Real sea serpents could not be used because they were magical, and there was to be no hint of magic, lest some idiotic Mundane put one and one together and realize that magic existed. However, since it probably was not possible to eliminate the whiff of magic entirely, the spell would deflect its seeming position somewhat, so that the magic seemed to be off to Xanth's east, in the middle of the sea. It would generate another scary feeling—
“A brrr mood!” Supi exclaimed, forgetting her boredom for half an instant.
Better that response than a closed mind. Gar realized.
“Yes, a brrr-mood triangle in the sea, to make Mundanes nervous about the region, without ever quite being able to fathom why. Very good, Supi.”
“Brrr mood triangle,” she repeated, pleased.
But since they did need to allow some access to Mundanes, because they were needed to replenish the human stock of Xanth, distressing as the prospect was, there would be one small section of apparent access. This would be at the northwestern tip of Xanth, as far from the rest of the peninsula as possible. It was hoped that this would give the Mundanes time to learn the ways of Xanth as they made their inept way on into it, and to have some children who would have magic talents, thus becoming true Xanth natives. By the time these new colonists got down to central Xanth, they might even be bearable. Many of them would of course be eaten by dragons along the way, which was another consolation.
“Dragonfood!” the Princess cried, clapping her little hands. “Chomp chomp!” She was beginning to get into the lesson.
But even this very limited access had to be restricted, because otherwise it would be like a pot with a hole in it, endless slop could pour through. Here was where the most sophisticated portion of the Interface was to come. It would neither repel nor delude intruders; it would instead displace them somewhat in time. Thus they would be confused when they entered Xanth, and probably would not manage to come through in force. This portion of the Interface, being small, would be hard to find, and deceptive in its effect.
“Deceptive?” Hiat inquired, becoming interested despite his disdain for the proceedings. “Folk merely pass through it. So time differs on the other side; how are they to know or care about the difference?”
Gar wondered about that himself. He perused the scroll.
“Because its effect differs, depending on the side you start from,” he said. “A Mundane crossing into Xanth has no control over the time in Xanth's history he enters. When he crosses back, he has no control over the time or place in Mundania he returns to. It seems random. So he is likely to be lost. He can't enter Xanth, return home, fetch his family or friends, and reenter Xanth where he left it. This makes Mundane intrusion in force difficult.”
“But what about the Waves?” Menti asked.
“Oh be quiet, you ignorant nanny,” Iri muttered. “There won't be any Waves for another thousand years.”
“Governess,” Menti said, chastened.
“Of course there could be groups of Mundanes crossing together,” Gar said. “So that families can come to Xanth without getting split apart. But they can't cross back and forth without risking great confusion. It seems like a reasonable compromise to restrain Mundane entry without stopping it altogether.”
“Still doesn't sound deceptive to me,” Hiat grumbled.
But the answer was in the scroll: when natives of Xanth, with magic talents, crossed the Interface, they could go to any time or place in Mundania they wished, with certain restrictions. For example, there had to be a peninsula in that region of Mundania, because the Interface was attached to the peninsula of Xanth and had a natural affinity for the form. It was also necessary to pay attention to the sea near the Interface, which changed colors. When it was red, the crossing would be to a peninsula near a red sea or tide of Mundania. When it was black, it would be to a black sea. When green, a green sea, or maybe a green land by the sea.
“I want to go to a plaid sea!” Supi said.
“Don't get anachronistic,” Iri said. “It will be three thousand years before plaid makes its impression on Xanth.”
The child, daunted by the impossibly complicated word “anachronistic,” which no one in her right mind could understand, settled back into good behavior.
Furthermore, the Interface would lock on to a Xanth native, and when that person returned to Xanth after an excursion anywhere/when in Mundania, he would be exactly where he left it, and exactly when he would have been had he spent the time in Xanth without crossing. So if he spent one day in Mundania, he would return one day later in Xanth. If he spent a year, he would return a year later. So crossing the Interface would not disrupt him or his associations in Xanth; it would be just as if he had visited another part of Xanth for that time. Unless for some devious reason he preferred to return at another time, in which case it was possible if he was lucky. The Interface, in short, would be kind to Xanthians.
“But where's the deception?” Hiat demanded. He seemed obsessed with the matter.
Gar delved into the scroll again. “Because it treats Xanthians differently from Mundanes,” he said. “If a
Xanthian crosses into Mundania, he will say that there is no problem going back—because there is none, for him. But if the Mundane then crosses to Xanth, and back, he may be totally lost in some other time or place.”
“Oho!” Hiat said, liking it.
But as Gar read further, he discovered another aspect of the situation. Mundanes, it seemed, spoke many different languages. It wasn't clear why they hampered themselves in this manner, but the fact was that a Mundane from one section could rarely converse with one from another section. When a Xanthian entered Mundania, he too was unable to understand the speech. But when a Mundane entered Xanth, he spoke the common language of Xanth, being magically converted. So probably the deception would occur when a Mundane was in Xanth, talking to a native, who thought that it was safe to cross either way. The Mundane would then cross back—and wish he hadn't.
“Yes indeed,” Hiat agreed. “A very nice feature, suitably treacherous.” Queen Iri shot a dark glance at him, but he fended it off without effort.
The folk of Hinge had spent several centuries perfecting the details of the Interface. It had been endlessly complicated to work out and refine each aspect, with many false starts. For example, they had made and tested prototypes of the Interface, and had folk cross repeatedly back and forth, discovering the effects. They had thought that groups would cross close together, but when one “Mundane” member of a group hung back for a look at an interesting flower, he had landed in a sea of Mundane blue grass instead of the blue-skied region the others entered.
So a special detail spell had to be devised that caused the Interface to recognize the various members of a Xanth party, and keep them together even if they weren't physically or temporally quite together. All in all, a great deal of parchment scroll was used up in the course of perfecting such details.
Now it was time to invoke the masterspell for the Interface, because if they lost one more person it would no longer be possible to do. Queen Iri would craft the illusion aspect, while Lord Hiat would craft the roots the Interface would grow to anchor itself securely, and the antennae it needed to sense those who passed through it. Demoness Menti would provide the demonly substance it needed, as well as popping back and forth to make sure it was being set up exactly right. She could do what the others could not: Check the actual location of the parts of the Interface all around Xanth as they formed. Princess Supi, though the littlest of the people, had the biggest magic; she would make the raw magic essence of the Interface, giving it strength to perform and endure forever and ever. Gar was the organizer, making sure that all the others were coordinated and that the spell was being crafted exactly right.