Before the game was finished, Astrid and Art appeared. “Between bouts of whatever, I have been telling Art about my friend,” Astrid said. “I want him to meet you, Kandy.”
Art stared. “It is hard to tell in the gloom, but you look almost as pretty as Astrid.”
“Almost,” Kandy agreed with a smile.
“I would like to paint you.”
“Why not? Astrid and I will be traveling together, after the quest is done, one way or another.”
“There are different ways?”
“By day I am a board,” Kandy said. “If I remain so, Astrid and I will associate mostly by night. If I find a way to break the spell on me, then I will revert to normal, and we will associate by day. Either way, you may paint me if you wish, by night or day, provided Astrid agrees.”
“Oh yes!” Astrid said.
“But I will not fall in love with you,” he said. “Astrid governs my heart.”
“Of course,” Kandy agreed. “I will pose for you as a friend.”
“A friend,” Pewter echoed, appreciating the distinction.
“Astrid tells me that you are her best friend,” Art said.
Kandy smiled. “And she is mine.”
“Do you play chess?” Pewter asked Art.
“I do.”
“Then we shall get along.”
Art and Astrid departed. “Friendship seems as complicated to fathom as chess,” Pewter said, “but I believe I am getting it.”
“As I am getting chess,” Kandy agreed.
In the morning the group resumed the walk, with one added member. They harvested sugar canes from the camp garden and used them to steady their walking, knowing they could be eaten later. Tiara also found a honey comb and used it to fasten down her floating hair. So Mitch took another for his hair.
“You folk have interesting hair,” Art remarked.
“The only thing we know about the resolution of our Quest is to merge the hair,” Mitch said. “So we are ready to do that when we understand how.”
They came to a fork in the path, but there was no sign. “How do know which one leads to the South Village?” Ease asked.
A pair of donkeys was grazing nearby. One lifted his head and spoke. “Take the right one, of course.”
“What are you?” Ease demanded.
“I’m a smart ass. What did you think, board wielder?”
“I should have known,” Ease said. “What about your friend here. Does he know?”
The other donkey lifted a front leg and pointed to the right fork. “He’s the dumb ass,” the smart ass explained. “He knows things but can’t talk, so he pantomimes.”
“And he is pointing to the right path,” Ease said.
“Obviously not the left path,” the smart ass agreed.
Kandy was sure she was not the only one annoyed by the donkey.
They took the right fork, hoping that it was indeed the correct one.
Soon they came to a pasture with several cows grazing. There was an elaborate bow formed of a vine hanging on the fence. Nearby were several curved sticks.
“I get it,” Mitch said. “That’s a bow vine, in case we go in for archery.”
“Obviously the pun virus has not struck here yet,” Tiara said.
Then the bow shriveled and fell writhing to the ground. “It just did,” Mitch said grimly.
“Then why aren’t my eyes hurting?” Art asked. “They’re a pun.”
“Our friend Pewter maintains a firewall that prevents the virus from reaching us,” Astrid said. “Now you will have to stay close, at least until we manage to nullify the virus.”
“And thereafter,” Art said, squeezing her hand. “But I admit this helps; I was afraid that when the pun virus caught me I would go blind.”
“I would love you anyway. But I would give my own eyesight rather than have you lose your ability to paint.”
“I would not take it.”
“But if you could not paint--”
“Last night painting became my second love.”
Then they saw a sign: SOUTH VILLAGE EXIT.
“It was the right path!” Tiara exclaimed, gratified. “So the asses weren’t so asinine after all.”
“Now all we need to do is find the Magician’s grandchildren,” Mitch said.
They paused to survey the South Village. It seemed quite typical, consisting of a cluster of thatched cottages with a street meandering from one to another, somehow managing to connect all of them without recrossing itself. But the pun virus had passed, leaving rotten puns in the surrounding fields.
“This does not look promising for the source of the anti pun virus,” Mitch muttered.
“It is not the source, merely the access to the portal that will access the antidote,” Pewter reminded him.
“Ah, yes. But even when we find them, how will we know them?”
“They are five maidens with wonderful hair,” Ease said. “Fornax told me.”
“Fornax! Can that be trusted?”
YES Kandy thought. Because she had agreed to represent the Demoness, she was sure she would not be given false information.
“Yes,” Ease said.
“How can you be sure?”
“Fornax took the form of my dream girl. My dream girl would never lie to me.”
A look circled, avoiding Ease. But it died out unclaimed. No one cared to challenge that reasoning openly. For one thing it would likely lead to the violation of their tacit agreement to let Kandy remain unknown until she chose to reveal herself, or somehow broke the board spell.
“Five maidens,” Mitch said. “And of course the hair counts.”
“What’s this about coffeemaking?” a voice inquired.
“About what?” Mitch asked.
“Java, beverage, drink, potable, hairy--”
“Coiffure?”
“Whatever,” the voice said crossly as Tiara’s wild hair smoothed out. “Since when did hair start counting?”
“Welcome back, Metria,” Mitch said dryly. “We missed you.”
“Well, you folk were getting dull, and I didn’t like the pea soup fog. But then I got caught by the virus, and my two alter egos are gone. I miss them. D Mentia’s got most of our common sense, and Woe Betide has our beguiling innocence. So I thought I’d better come goose you loafers into completing your Quest.”
“It’s so nice to have a benign motive.”
“Thank you.”
“You can help,” Astrid said. “We are looking for five maidens with wonderful hair.”
“I will appraisal.”
“You will what?” Tiara asked.
“Bill of exchange, assay, draft, certified--”
“Check?”
“Whatever.” Tiara’s hair floated as the demoness departed.
“I’m sorry about Mentia,” Ease said. “She was nice.”
Kandy knew that what he meant was sexy.
“We’ll just have to hope that she and Woe Betide return once we nullify the virus,” Mitch said. “They’re really partial puns, so may not have been destroyed completely.”
Metria returned. “They’re in a big old house on a private estate south of the village, quarreling as usual.”
“Quarreling?” Mitch asked.
“Seems they have five different personalities. They don’t get along well.”
“Show the way,” Mitch said.
Tiara’s hair pointed to the village.
They walked that way, ignored by the populace. The recent arrival of the virus evidently preempted the villagers’ attention.
There was an intersection in the center of the village. Tiara’s hair pointed south. They walked south. There was the estate, which surely had been attractive before the virus wiped out many of its ornamental plants. They went to the front door of the ancient mansion. Mitch knocked.
The door opened. “Well look at that!” a brown-haired girl exclaimed. “A man with hair!”
Four other girls quickly clustered at the door.
Their hair was black, red, yellow, and light blue, all of it tightly braided and tied back. That seemed a shame to Kandy, because loose it would be waist length and beautiful. “OoOoo!” they chorused. “Which one of us gets him first?”
“Be practical,” the black haired girl snapped. “He obviously has some other purpose, because there are already two pretty girls in his party.”
“Awwww,” the others moaned.
Black was evidently the practical one. She eyed Mitch in a seductively challenging manner. “What can we do for you, handsome?”
“My name is Mitch. My companions and I are looking for the grandchildren of a long-ago Magician who--”
“That’s us,” Black said. “Come in, all of you.”
Soon they were ensconced in the capacious family room of the mansion, with the five young women spaced evenly around, as if each needed her own personal space. “So that’s why we’re here,” Mitch concluded. “Do you have the access to the antidote?”
“We know nothing about it,” Black said. She wore a black outfit, matching her hair. “We know the story, of course, but it’s just a story. Whatever secret our Sorceress grandmother had is long since lost.”
“It has to be here, somewhere,” Mitch said. “The Good Magician would not be wrong about that.”
Brown made an expansive gesture. “You are welcome to explore the mansion. It has half a myriad rooms we don’t even use.” She wore a warm brown fur dress, matching her hair. “But I don’t think you will find it there.” She smiled. “On the other hand, if you are looking for friendly companionship with benefits, we have plenty.” She took a deep breath, and the top brown edge of her decolletage parted to reveal nice double curvature.
“He’s taken,” Tiara snapped.
“You have a temper,” Red said. “I like that.” Her dress was the same shade of red as her hair. Apart from that she looked very similar to her sisters. In fact, Kandy realized, if the five were to dress the same and cover their hair, they would be almost indistinguishable.
“We have a prediction of our own,” Blue said. “It is that someday a Quest will happen by and solve our problem. But it has never happened, and you folk do not seem to relate. We are disappointed.”
“We have only one hint,” Pewter said. “That is ‘Merge the hair.’ Does that make sense to you?”
“Horrible sense,” Blue said glumly. Her mood evidently matched her blue dress. “But it’s disaster.”
“Disaster?”
“Our hair is constantly trying to merge. It gets all tangled and is awful to get free. That’s why we stay clear of each other.”
“Why haven’t you separated and gone out to make your individual ways in Xanth?” Mitch asked. “You are all attractive young women; you could surely interest men.”
“Oh, we couldn’t leave each other!” Yellow said. “We fight constantly, but we’re sisters. We hurt when we’re too far apart. We have to be together.” She seemed to be the shy one, but this was important to her.
“And men are not interested in the company of several women at once,” Blue said. “Not in any polite way. It’s depressing.”
“I would be,” Ease said.
Red looked at him. “For more than ten minutes?”
“Well, no. Then I’d want to sleep.”
“And only one woman would be satisfied.”
Mitch did not argue that case. “May we see a sample of how your hair behaves? Because it seems to tie in with our clue.”
“Why not,” Black said, unbinding her dark hair. It was indeed waist length. “We’ll show you just enough.” She glanced around. “Any volunteers?”
“Oh, I’ll do it, you bleep,” Red said combatively. She stood and approached Black, who stood to meet her. As she walked she undid her own hair.
As they approached, their hair seemed to take on a life of its own. It crossed their shoulders and reached forward. They stopped, facing each other, but their hair didn’t; it extended like pseudopods, the black meeting the red and twining around it. In a moment their hair was thoroughly tangled together.
The two women drew apart, slowly. Their hair did not let go. Their heads were tied together by the locked locks. “See?” Black asked. “This happens whenever any two of us come within range. It’s been that way since childhood. We have learned to keep our hair bound, and to stay clear of each other.”
“So we can’t be together, and we can’t be apart,” Red said. “It is infuriating.”
The two women brought up their hands and started pulling strands of hair clear, carefully. It did not want to come, but they knew what they were doing, and got it free, strand by strand. In due course they had it clear, and quickly rebound their hair to keep it under control.
“It does seem to want to merge,” Mitch said. “I wonder: could I stand with one of you? I have very long hair.”
“Why not,” Brown said. “I haven’t had a good hair-pulling encounter in a while.” She stood and unbound her hair.
Tiara looked as if she wanted to protest, but Astrid signaled her to stifle it. They needed to know just how far the hair magic went.
Mitch pulled off his shirt and shook his hair into a large mass. When he trained it straight down his back it fell to his knees.
“Oh, lovely,” Brown breathed warmly. “I’d adore tangling with that.”
Tiara opened her mouth, but Astrid cautioned her again.
Brown and Mitch went to stand before each other. The hair on both their heads remained quiescent. Mitch caught a hank and brought it toward Brown’s tresses. Still no reaction. He caught a lock of hers and laid it across a lock of his. Nothing.
“Apparently not,” he said. But of course my hair is not magic, merely long and voluminous.” He glanced at Tiara. “Dear? Your hair is magic.”
Tiara jumped up. “This should be interesting,” her hair said.
Brown stared. “It talks!”
Tiara smiled. “No. There’s a demoness nesting it in, keeping it straight. Metria, can you vacate for a moment? We need to see if magic hair attracts magic hair.”
“Very well,” the hair said sulkily. Mist emerged from it, forming a small cloud that floated away.
Now Tiara’s hair strained upward, trying to float off her head. She approached Brown as Mitch retreated from her. But her hair showed no interest in Brown’s hair, or vice versa. Magic wasn’t the answer either, at least not in this manner.
“Thank you,” Mitch said, quickly weaving his hair back into a shirt. “Now we know that your hair seeks only the hair of your sisters. It could be a broader aspect of that magic that prevents you from separating and seeking lives apart. It is definitely related to hair, but we don’t know exactly how.”
Black shook her head. “How can our tangling hair relate to your Search for the anti-pun elixir? I can’t make sense of that.”
“We are having difficulty seeing how our presence can solve your problem of hair and isolation,” Pewter said. “Yet it does seem likely that there is a connection.”
“So you suspect that we have been brought together for mutual reason?” Brown asked. “That the solution to one problem may also be the solution to the other?”
“In magical situations, which this is, that could well be the case,” Pewter agreed.
“If only we could think of it,” Blue said glumly.
Hair. Merging. Magic. The thoughts circled each other in Kandy’s mind, threatening to collide. Then they did. MERGE THE HAIR! she thought.
“Merge the hair!” Ease echoed.
The five sisters were taken aback. “All of it? That would be an awful tangle.”
Astrid looked at the board, knowing the source of Ease’s notion. “Have you ever tried to do it all together?”
“Of course not!” Red snapped. “It would take us hours to get it all untangled, and we would be largely helpless until we did.”
“Perhaps not,” Pewter said. “There must be some reason that the hair seeks hair. But if the tangle is bad, we will
be here to help you get it free.”
“You are a Quest,” Black said thoughtfully. “We do have a prophecy. We may regret it, but perhaps we should try it, if only to eliminate it from consideration in the future.”
The others nodded. “What do we have to lose?” Brown asked rhetorically. “It was after all suggested by a handsome man.”
So they had designs on Ease. That griped Kandy, but she was not in a position to protest.
The five sisters stood in a circle, safely distanced from each other. They unbound their hair. Then they stepped slowly toward the center of the circle.
Their hair came alive: black, brown, red, yellow, blue. It circled their heads, reaching forward in bands of color. The tips met in the center and intertwined, pulling the sisters forward. A big colorful knot formed, still drawing the women in. Their faces touched.
And merged.
Kandy was as shocked as the others. The five heads were merging into one, pulled by the hair. Then the necks, and the rest of their bodies. They were being drawn into a kind of hungry vortex, a globular mass of hair.
Had the sisters been thrown into some destructive storm? A black hole, from which there was no escape? Kandy and the others watched, appalled, as the bodies fed into the globular maw, leaving their dresses behind, until only their legs and feet remained. Then the feet disappeared too, leaving their shoes behind.
For a moment the ball of hair hung there, pulsing, emitting coruscations of color. Then it dissolved.
A woman stood there, nudely perfect, holding an urn. She looked much like any one of the sisters, except for her hair, which was a glittering array of colors. She was absolutely beautiful. The men, of course were mesmerized.
“Oh, I must paint that!” Art murmured.
“What, are you jilting me so soon?” Astrid asked.
“Never! You are my love. But a perfect woman must be painted.”
Astrid nodded, satisfied. It was his nature to paint, and women were his prime subjects.
The phenomenal woman looked around. “I am whole at last,” she said. “Thank you, Ease, for giving me the clue.”
Ease was as amazed as the rest of them. “You are—all of them?”
“All of them,” she agreed. “They were but fragments of me, condemned to living apart. You may call me Merge.”