Kandy thought about that. Astrid had risked herself to enter the troll’s cave first, and then undertaken the unpleasant chore of seducing him, without ever hesitating or complaining. Now she was bundled up in suit and mask, surely severely cramped, going hungry and thirsty, and still making no protest. She was doing whatever she could to help the quest move along, making no demands on others. Kandy probably would never have picked up on this had she not been a board with little to do but observe. Astrid was a genuinely good person, regardless of her underlying nature, and yes, Kandy wanted to be her friend always.
“Oh, bleep!” Mitch muttered.
“What is it?” Tiara asked. They were side by side, almost touching, with portholes on either side.
“I’ve never been below water like this before, in such a confined space, with no control over where I’m going. I’m getting claustrophobic.”
“Oops!”
“What?”
“Now that you describe it, so am I. I lived most of my life in a tower well above ground; I couldn’t get out, but I could see wide and far. But this—all there is is the boat, and outside, the tunnel. I feel stifled.”
“Stifled,” he agreed. “I’ve got to get out!”
“Me too!”
The two started struggling, banging into each other. But there was no way out, at the moment. All they could do was drive themselves into a useless frenzy and maybe hurt themselves. Something had to be done. But what?
Ease was busy steering the craft, making sure it did not bang into the tunnel walls. Pewter was maintaining the firewall, a necessary precaution. Astrid was too bundled up to even talk. That left only—Kandy.
TIARA! Kandy thought.
The young woman paused in her frenzy. “I hear you,” she said.
REACH UP AND GRAB ME.
Tiara obeyed. Her hand caught the bottom of the board. “Now what?”
Just relax, Kandy thought, no longer having to shout. She spread a mental blanket of comfort and peace.
“Oh, it’s working,” Tiara said, relaxing. “What a relief!”
Just hang on to me, and you’ll be fine.
“I will,” Tiara agreed.
But meanwhile Mitch’s frenzy was unabated. He needed to be calmed too, but how? It was all Kandy could do to keep Tiara calm; if she tackled Mitch as well, he’d just drag her into his madness and they’d all lose.
Tiara picked up on the thought. “Maybe Astrid. She’s used to confined places. Maybe she can make him appreciate them. Can you reach her?”
Good idea. I’ll try.
Kandy focused on the basilisk. ASTRID!
I hear you, friend. How can I help?
Grab Mitch’s ankle. Mind connect with him if you can. Calm him if you can.
I’ll try. She reached up and caught his thrashing foot. I’m not connecting.
Bleep! Kandy thought.
“Maybe Pewter can help,” Tiara suggested.
PEWTER!
“I hear you,” the machine replied grumpily.
CAN YOU SPARE ENOUGH MAGIC TO ENABLE ASTRID TO MIND-CONTACT MITCH? WE NEED TO CALM HIM.
Oh! Hello Mitch!
Mitch paused in his frenzy. “What’s this?”
Astrid here. You know I’m a basilisk. Imagine you are a cockatrice, the male of the species. Let’s wander the barren rocks together.
“Why?”
To escape the claustrophobia.
Now Mitch got the point. “I’ll try.”
Then Kandy and Tiara were treated to the mental scene wherein Astrid guided Mitch into the form of a cockatrice in a wonderfully desolate scene. The sun glared down on stones and sand punctuated by dead shrubs: the home of the basilisks and cockatrices, where everything else died. Yet it was beautiful in its fashion, for their kind. Astrid led him on a tour through the dry gullies and stark ravines of her homeland.
“It’s great!” he said, surprised. “Why did you leave it?”
Here she could talk. “I was not a happy basilisk. I wanted living interaction and companionship. So I went to the Good Magician and he used a spell to transform me to human for a year, after which I could revert if I wanted to. Then his half-wife MareAnn arranged for me to become a Companion on this Quest to save the puns. With luck I will find a feasible situation.”
“But you remain poisonous.”
“Yes. The spell could change my form but not my nature.”
“What Service did you have to do for the Good Magician?”
“This is it: to facilitate the success of the Quest to the best of my ability. I am really a bodyguard.”
“But you don’t like killing things.”
“True. That’s why I was a discontented basilisk. But I will kill if I have to.”
“I hope you never have to.”
There was a jolt as the boat abruptly came ashore. They were through the tunnel and into a larger cave.
“I’m out of the bind!” Mitch exclaimed. “I never felt it once I became a cockatrice! Thank you, Astrid.”
Astrid made her mmmm sound, unable to speak in this environment.
“And thank you, Kandy,” Tiara said, letting go of the board. “That was educational.”
The boat was on a beach of bones. The smallest ones were like sand, with slightly larger ones like twigs, and skulls like rocks. It seemed that the troll had eaten a good many folk.
They got out and stood on this subterranean shore. The fungal glow on the walls illuminated the region like sunlight through a cloud-bank. “Well, we’re here,” Ease said. “Now we just need to find the sequin.”
“It’s like looking for a noodle in a haystack,” Mitch said.
“We can spread out, each closely checking a section,” Astrid said as she drew herself out of the clinging wetsuit. The accumulated cloud of perfume was almost visible. She did not put on the dress, as it remained translucent. “It’s bound to be here somewhere.”
“Somewhere,” Mitch agreed, looking at her.
Tiara glanced at him, then at Astrid. She didn’t say anything, but Kandy could guess what she was thinking: the two had made a connection, in that basilisk daydream, and Astrid in her human form was a remarkably well formed figure, now thoroughly exposed. Had Astrid inadvertently become competition? Yet it had been by Tiara’s suggestion, to save Mitch from possibly harming himself. The fault was not with Astrid.
They spread out, checking sections. But Kandy wondered whether she had done the right thing in getting Astrid to help Mitch through the crisis. What mischief lay ahead?
“What’s this?” Mitch asked, picking something up.
“A bone comb,” Tiara said.
“You can have it,” Mitch said, presenting it to her.
“Thank you.” Tiara ran it through her wild hair. The hair remained floating, but was now neatly so. “This is a good comb. It must be magic.”
“Try it on a real challenge,” Mitch said, hauling off his shirt.
Tiara stroked the comb through his tangled mass of hair, and it left a swatch of perfectly even texture. She stroked it again, and there was another neat section. In two and a half moments she had his entire mass in smooth order. “It doesn’t even snag on tangles,” Tiara said, impressed. “It really is magic.”
“It is as if we were fated to find it,” Mitch said.
“When we were looking for the sequin.”
They smiled at each other. Whatever social crisis there might have been had dissolved. Kandy was relieved.
But then Astrid spoke up. “I found the sequin!” she held it high.
“It seems we had to find the comb first, then the sequin,” Pewter said. “That may be the point of this Event.”
“The comb is wonderful,” Mitch said. “But what relevance does it have to the Quest?”
“Merge the hair,” Astrid said. “The comb may facilitate that.”
The others nodded. It could indeed be relevant.
“So do we rest here, or move on via the sequin?” Ease asked.
They l
ooked around the cave. There was no obvious exit. The water seemed to filter through the piled bones, finding its continuation beneath and beyond them. They would have to do considerable digging to make a navigable channel.
“It’s not as if this is a great vacation site,” Mitch said. The others nodded.
“The sequin,” Tiara said.
Astrid donned the dress, and Tiara fastened the sequin to it.
Chapter 11:
Prison
They were in a pun-clear region. There were no puns in sight, just festering goo where they had been. The virus was surely all around them. Fortunately Pewter had maintained his firewall throughout; he could do it in his sleep now, if he ever slept.
Ahead was a pleasant-looking village. Evidently the people here had learned to get along without puns. It was probably a good place to go and rest before they tackled whatever the event had in mind for them.
But Mitch was dubious. “My talent is ideas, not premonition, but I have a bad feeling about this. We might be better off to bypass this village and forage in the countryside.”
“But without puns there are bound to be fewer resources,” Ease said. “No milkweed bottles, boot rear, beefsteak tomatoes. We would not eat well.”
“But there should be pie plants,” Tiara said. “Those are magic, not plants, and the virus doesn’t destroy magic.”
“True. But I don’t see any pie plants.”
“They may all have been harvested,” Astrid said. “Because without pun foods, the non-pun resources have heavier use.”
“So we may go hungry after all,” Tiara said. “I’m tired and would like to sleep in a bed, rather than risking nickelpedes in the forest.
“No nickelpedes,” Astrid said. “They’re puns, or at least half-puns.”
“But there are other nasties.” Tiara turned to Mitch. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the village?”
“Not at all sure,” Mitch said. “Just wary. We can go there, but let’s be on our guard.”
They walked on to the village. This one didn’t seem to have a mare, unsurprisingly, as she would have been wiped out by the virus, but a head man came out to meet them. “Greeting, strangers!” he said jovially. “I am Giles, the mayor of PLO village. What is your interest here?”
“We’re on a Quest to save the puns,” Mitch said.
Giles seemed taken aback. “To do what?”
“A virus is destroying the puns. We need to find the anti-virus to nullify it and save the remaining puns.”
“We need to talk about this,” Giles said. “Come to the tavern for a good meal, and we’ll discuss it.”
“Thank you,” Mitch said. “What can we do for you in return for your hospitality?”
“Don’t worry about it; we’ll think of something.” Giles led the way to the tavern.
There, eating a very nice meal, they talked. “We don’t actually want to save the puns,” Giles said. “We regard them as a curse on Xanth, and are satisfied to see them gone. Why not give up your Quest and let the virus do its job? Xanth will be better for it.”
“No way,” Mitch said. “The virus wiped out the puns of my village and the people are desolate. We have to find that antidote.”
Giles looked around the table. “Do the rest of you feel that way?”
One by one they nodded. Kandy noted that Pewter was silent; if this village hated puns, he preferred to be anonymous.
“We have been on this Quest for some time,” Astrid said. “We wouldn’t care to give it up after all the effort we have put into it.”
“And the rest of you agree with that?” Giles asked the others.
Again they nodded.
“Then I am sorry,” the mayor said. “Enjoy your repast.” He got up and left the table.
“I don’t trust that guy,” Mitch said. “He’s got something on his mind.”
“Can you read it?” Tiara asked.
“No, my talent doesn’t work that way. I can draw a thought from one mind and send it to another, but it has to be a specific thought, put up for consideration. All that’s in the mayor’s mind is his hatred of puns, and he made no secret of that.”
“Well, we can move on in the morning,” Ease said. “Right now I’m sleepy.”
“So am I,” Tiara said.
It turned out they were all sleepy, except Pewter. He neither ate nor slept, but emulated both so as to merge with the company. “I fear your misgiving was well placed,” Pewter said in a low tone. “I believe the food is drugged.”
“Oh, bleep!” Astrid said as she fell asleep. She was deadly, but she was alive, and therefore vulnerable to drugged food.
“I can’t change that reality,” Pewter said, “without interrupting my firewall and instantly perishing. But I will watch what happens.”
“Do that,” Mitch said as he slumped unconscious. The others were not far behind him. Soon they were all sleeping, Pewter faking it.
Now the mayor returned. “Too bad,” he said. “Those are really pretty girls. It would have been nice to have them in our village. But we can’t tolerate puns.”
Other men came, and a woman. “That’s one beautiful dress with the sequins, she said. “May I take it?”
“No. It might have dangerous magic. We won’t touch their clothing or their bodies. You know our policy.”
He had just saved himself and his village considerable trouble, Kandy thought. The dress might have embarrassed the woman before putting her into a new Event, and Astrid’s perfume could have killed the man despite her being comatose.
“Too bad,” a man said. “I’d like to have at that one while she’s unconscious.”
“And I’d like to have that dress,” the woman said.
Just so.
“No,” Giles said firmly. “Now put them in the oubliette. We’ll hold their trial two days hence.”
“Why have a trial?” a man asked. “We know they’re guilty. Everyone heard them defending puns.”
“The forms must be followed,” Giles said. “We don’t want to make a mistake.”
“Like feeding a princess to the dragon,” the woman said, laughing.
“It’s no laughing matter. Princesses have power. Some are Sorceresses.”
A dragon? This did not look good. But if they were awake for the trial they would have a chance to step into the next Event, leaving this dangerous village behind.
The villagers lifted the Quest members one by one and put them on a wagon. Then they hauled the wagon across the village to what looked like the ruins of an ancient castle. Kandy realized that Xanth must have had quite a history before the current day, because this was not the first evocative ruin they had encountered.
They rolled down a ramp and into a subterranean dungeon. There they put Mitch on a pallet suspended by a rope and pulley and lowered him into a dark hole in the floor. They played out a considerable length of rope; that was one deep hole. But eventually there was the sound of the pallet touching the bottom. They waited a moment, then reversed the pulley and hauled the pallet back up, empty.
They put Pewter on next, and levered him down into the deep hole. At least he would be able to help Mitch, out of sight of the villagers.
The third one was Astrid. “Are you sure I can’t--” the man started.
“No! She’s probably infected with puns.”
Again, Giles had save them mischief. The man was not without honor, meager as it was.
They lowered Astrid down. Then Tiara. Then Ease. “That’s a pretty feeble club he carries,” the man said. “It’s just a dumb board.”
And how would he like to have that board smack him upside the head? Kandy was indeed dumb, in the sense that she could not speak, but she was hardly stupid.
They descended into the hole. Kandy began to see the outline of a huge nether chamber: the oubliette, with that faintly glowing moss on its rounded wall.
Hands took hold of Ease and lifted him off the pallet. “This is the last one, I think,” a male voice said
. “I heard them talking, above.”
“Yes,” a female voice said. “Too bad for them.”
The pallet was pulled up, and the bright disk of the hole went dark: the access had been covered over. They were locked in the oubliette.
“Let them be,” the man said. “They will revive soon. That dope they put in the food doesn’t last long.” He was modestly handsome, with curly black hair, wearing traveling clothes. Obviously another visitor to the village.
“Long enough to do the job,” the woman said. “It got us down here.” She was modestly pretty, also with curly black hair, probably his sister.
“We’re doomed, but at least we can make these other victims more comfortable, and answer their questions,” the man said.
Mitch stirred, the first to recover. Kandy knew why: he had distrusted the Mayor, as it turned out with good reason, and had not eaten heavily.
The man and woman went to him and helped him sit up. “Easy, stranger,” the man said. “You’re among friends, though we can’t help you much.”
“We were drugged,” Mitch said groggily.
“Yes. And lowered into the oubliette for safekeeping until the kangaroo trial.”
“Kangaroo?” Mitch asked. “Isn’t that a pun?”
“Not here,” the man said. “It means a mock trial whose outcome is fixed, done only for show. They want the semblance of legality, in case there are questions later.”
Pewter stirred, playing the role. He of course had picked up on everything Kandy had, but pretended ignorance. The man and woman went to him and helped him similarly. Then Astrid, Tiara, and Ease, who had eaten most heartily.
“We are all victims of PLO,” the man said. “That’s Pun Liberation Organization, dedicated to liberating Xanth from puns. They welcome the virus. They dispose of anybody they don’t like or trust.”
“We’re on a Quest to save the puns,” Mitch said. “And it seems they truly hate puns.”
“They truly do,” the man agreed. “Let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Pastor, and this is my twin sister Futura. Our names relate to our talents, and those are what got us into trouble.”
The Quest members introduced themselves candidly, as deception seemed pointless here. “I am Mitch, and my talent is fetching and sending ideas.”