Two to the Fifth

  “The Demon is distracted by something,” the Good Magician pronounced. “I must go and undistract him.”

  “And what do we do while you’re gone?” the Gorgon demanded. “Pull each other’s hair out?”

  Humfrey glanced at her. Her hair consisted of little writhing snakes framing her veil. “That might not be a bad idea”

  For a moment her hand went to her veil, as if to lift it away and stone him with her gaze. Then she thought of a better way to get back at him. “We shouldn’t stay home quarreling. We should go with you, to help you.”

  “Hear hear!” Rose agreed. “We hate being cooped up in the castle with no one to smooch except the moat monster.” There was a murmur of agreement among the Wives; it seemed that the reference was not entirely fanciful.

  “Absolutely not!” Humfrey said grumpily, but perhaps not quite as grumpily as in the first scene. For some reason he seemed to have lost his edge. Perhaps not all of the smooching had been imposed on the moat monster.

  “If you go alone, who will tend your socks?” Sofia demanded. He had after all married her when his socks got out of hand, as it were.

  That made him pause, visibly. Obviously he was incompetent to tend them himself.

  “And who will keep you properly dressed?” Rose asked. She was the one who normally handled that, being very costume conscious.

  “And who will protect you from stray monsters?” the Gorgon asked, touching her veil again. Normally she stoned any creature who threatened him.

  “And who will find you a horse to ride?” MareAnn asked. Her talent had been to summon equines, until she lost her innocence in Hell, but she still got along well with them.

  “And who will pop ahead to spy out the route for you?” Dara asked. As a demoness she was good at that.

  “And who will make your bed?” the Maiden Taiwan asked. She was excellent at maid services.

  Humfrey realized that he needed them after all. “Then come along if you insist,” he said grumpily.

  They all clustered around him, bestowing kisses wherever they could reach, mainly the top of his head.

  “Enough, you disreputable wenches,” he protested. He seemed to have almost run out of grumpiness at the moment.

  That completed a scene. “Very good,” Cyrus said. “Take a break while we get Don costumed for the next scene. Hum-frey will ride, the Wives will walk, of course.”

  “Of course,” the Wives chorused, amused.

  The rehearsals worked out well, and in due course they were ready to take the troupe on tour. The new actors fit right in, and Gnonentity Gnome had turned out to be ideal for the role. One might possibly have suspected that the grumpy gnome almost liked being the constant center of attention by six appealing women, even if only onstage.

  They skipped Shaunna’s unfriendly village and went on to Zombie, where Kay had not quite fit in. They used the Seldom Scene to set up, then presented it.

  It started well. Then Kay, as Dara Demoness, was so nervous she forgot her opening line.

  “That’s the problem,” Kadence said, as prompter.

  “It’s a problem all right,” Kay muttered under her breath. “I forgot my line.” Then she did a double take. “Oh—that is my line.” She faced Magician Humfrey. “That’s the problem.”

  “What has gone wrong, Dara Demoness?” Humfrey de manded grumpily.

  She opened her mouth—and forgot again.

  “Everything,” Kadence said.

  “Everything,” she echoed gratefully.

  Then it was Piper’s turn, as MareAnn, and Kay was able to relax. Not only had the audience not realized that she forgot her lines, they had not caught on to her identity. Her costume and makeup were so thorough, thanks to Guise’s magic and the Witch’s expertise with paints, that she did not look at all like herself.

  Of course zombies were not noted for the quality of their observation, so maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. They did seem to like the play, and applauded with much sloughing off of flesh.

  Only “The Riddle” was presented here, because Cyruhad wanted to see how Kay and the other new actors did before a noncritical audience. They stayed three nights, and presented it three times, and the zombies liked it better each time as they picked up more of its nuances. That also enabled the actors to gain experience and competence.

  Next on the itinerary was the robot village. Here they presented all three plays, “The Curse,” “The Dream,” and “The Riddle.” The robots had trouble seeing the magic auras, but related well to Crabapple’s pincers, which resembled mechanical extremities. They liked the romantic theme, as wild romance was part of their programming. They had trouble understanding the second play, because robots didn’t dream. But the intellectual conclusion of the third play thrilled them, as they were good at cold logic. They also appreciated the fact that the Good Magician rode a robot donkey; for this audience Cyrus had elected not to conceal Don’s nature.

  Then they went to Gnobody Village. All three plays were well received, because the gnomes liked the fact that a woman with pincers for hands, a sure nonentity, finally won acceptance and love. They also liked the way a dragon found true love with a man; if a dragon could do it, maybe so could a gnome.

  But the major event was the third play. They were rapt the moment Gnonentity came onstage as Good Magician Hum-frey. They knew him, of course, and now they could plainly see the importance of his role. When Humfrey solved the Demon Xanth’s problem they applauded wildly. Indeed, he had become famous!

  A gnomide approached him after the show. Gnomides tended to be quite petite and pretty, and this one was typical. “I did not properly appreciate you, Gnonentity, before,” she said dulcetly. “But now that you are famous—”

  “I regret my interest is elsewhere, Gneiss,” he said.

  The others were amazed. He was turning down what promised to be a very nice liaison?

  “Oh?” she said, surprised. “May I inquire who?”

  He fidgeted. “I’m not sure I should say. It’s a private matter.”

  “I think I have the right to know who has preempted me,” Gneiss said. It was evident that she was not accustomed to being turned down.

  “I can’t say,” he repeated.

  Then Lady Bug flew to him. She landed and folded her wings. “It is time to become open,” she said. “I am the one.” She kissed Gnonentity on the cheek.

  Several jaws dropped among the cast. No one had known of this. Lady Bug had joined the troupe, hoping to be an actress. She had not yet acquired a role, but was a general-purpose substitute, ready to fill in where needed. Petite and beautiful, she was utterly unlike the gnome. Yet it seemed that opposites had attracted.

  “Thank you,” Gneiss said stonily, and retreated.

  When the troupe was alone, the actresses clustered around them. “Why didn’t you tell us?” the Witch demanded.

  “We weren’t sure it would work out,” Lady Bug said. “But after seeing how well the Dragon Lady did in her play, it seemed more likely.” This time she kissed Gnonentity on the mouth, and winged hearts radiated out from them. There was no doubt of their mutual devotion.

  “Well, we softened him up for her,” Dusti said, a bit grumpily.

  Cyrus wondered how they would react to the truth about him and Rhythm.

  They went on from village to village on the itinerary, and were generally well received. The actors became sharper with each repetition, and the plays were quite effective.

  But the most critical presentation was the last: at the residence of the Curse Friends. This made even Curtis nervous. “My whole future career as a Producer rests on our perfor-mance there,” he said.

  Cyrus knew it was true. The Curse Friends knew more about putting on plays than anyone else in Xanth. Curtis himself had been invaluable, keeping the troupe organized. Without his supervision they would have messed it up badly. But what was very good for amateurs might be weak for the professionals.

  Soon enough they found themselves in the
Curse Friends’ fabulous palace under the water of Lake Ogre- Chobee. They set up in a huge theater. Could there possibly be an audience to fill this place?

  “Oh, yes,” Rhythm assured him privately. “I have seen some of their plays, when I was a Princess. They take them very seriously.”

  “How do we compare?”

  “We’re not in their league,” she said. “But they know that Curtis is working with amateurs, and will make allowances. We’ll just have to do our best, and hope for the best.”

  “Actually, it is beside the point,” he said. “It is a different audience we are trying for.”

  “Which has shown no interest so far,” she said. “That worries me.”

  “The whole mission worries me,” he said.

  She looked around. “Do we dare do anything here? The Curse Friends are extremely observant.”

  “We don’t,” he agreed. “You must not do any Sorceress magic here.”

  “Yes.” He knew she was as regretful as he was.

  Cyrus warned the troupe: “This is apt to be a larger but extremely critical audience. Do not expect much applause. Just do your best.”

  “Is this the end?” the Witch asked. “No more perfor-mances after this?”

  Cyrus smiled reassuringly. “This is the conclusion of the initial tour. If we receive the Curse Friends’ stamp of approval, that should enhance our reputation, and more villageswill ask for us. We will continue as long as it seems worthwhile.” He couldn’t say that what they were trying for was a far more dangerous audience.

  “That’s a relief,” Crabapple said. “This troupe has become my home. I don’t ever want to give it up”

  There was a general murmur of agreement.

  “You’re a good group,” Cyrus said, touched. “I like being with you too. But circumstances could complicate”

  They adjourned for what they hoped would be a good night’s rest. In the morning they would put on all three plays, one after the other, for the same critical audience.

  Cyrus slept alone, except for Melete. “Will I ever lose you?” he asked.

  “Not as long as you want me”

  That was reassuring. “And what about Rhythm?”

  “Cyrus, you know that affair can have no good conclusion”

  He sighed. He did know, but refused to admit it.

  Morning seemed to come instantly. Abruptly they were in it. The actors, perhaps enhanced by nervousness, did beautifully. They were the best three performances they had done, with very little Prompting required. But applause was restrained; they were not much impressing this knowledgeable audience. Cyrus was glad he had warned the troupe. Privately he was disappointed, however.

  As the curtain closed on the last play, an official came forward. “This will do,” he said to Curtis.

  Curtis fell back into a chair, little stars and planets whirling around his head. He had passed!

  The official turned to Cyrus. “The material is adequate, but has potential. We would like to adapt it for our own purposes, making our own productions with our own actors. Is this satisfactory?”

  They wanted to steal his plays? Cyrus opened his mouth.

  “Accept,” Curtis whispered. “It is a sign of honor. We seldom adapt from outside sources”

  Cyrus stifled his initial reaction, trusting Curtis’s judgment. “This is satisfactory,” he said. “As long as we can continue with our own tour.”

  “Of course.” The official walked away.

  “Curtis is right,” Rhythm murmured. “They go outside their own base maybe once in a generation. We have scored”

  Now Cyrus checked his mental data bank, and found that it was true. The troupe had done very well.

  But was it well enough for the real challenge?

  14 ANDROMEDA

  Next morning as they were preparing to depart, Curtis approached Cyrus. “This concludes my association with your troupe,” he said. “It has been a plea sure.”

  “You’re leaving us?” Cyrus said. “Somehow I hadn’t realized.”

  “This was my qualifying examination,” Curtis reminded him. “I passed, and now can achieve my life’s ambition of producing my own plays.”

  “But we need you! You have been invaluable, with your organizational expertise. It would be difficult to continue without you.”

  “I am sure you can manage. You will train in another producer. Time and experience will bring expertise”

  Cyrus sorted through his memory bank. “But you spent twenty years mastering your craft. We can’t afford that much time.”

  “Why not? A thing worth doing is worth doing well”

  Cyrus did a quick calculation. Could he afford to tell the truth about the mission? This man had proved to be competent, patient, and reliable. He could surely be trusted. “Because this is more than an amateur troupe. There is a vital mission”

  The curse friend lifted an elegant eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “I must ask you to keep a confidence.”

  “Granted.”

  “Do you know of Ragna Roc?”

  Curtis shook his head. “Oh, my. If you plan to associate with that ill bird, we must part company immediately.”

  “My mission is to destroy him.”

  “You have my complete attention.”

  “I need to put on plays that will interest the bird enough to summon my troupe for a presentation. In that way we can get close enough to do what we have to.”

  “That bird is Magician caliber, and strengthening. You will have to have similar power, to have any chance at all.”

  “We do.”

  “Who?”

  “Princess Rhythm.”

  “She’s a child.”

  “I heard that,” Rhythm said, appearing.

  “Rhyme! You are she?”

  “I am the one he needs to smuggle in. Then my sisters will join me to tackle the Roc.”

  “That is why you have been associating with Cyrus?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rumor had it that—never mind.”

  “When I associate, as you put it, I am like this.” She invoked the Decade spell and stood in her full adult splendor.

  “Oh, my,” Curtis repeated. “I envy you, Cyrus.”

  “This is why we need you,” Cyrus said. “We must be the best that we can be, to attract the attention of the Roc without arousing his suspicion.”

  “I appreciate that,” the man said, wavering. “Yet—”

  “You said you envied Cyrus,” Rhythm said. “But you have evinced no interest in the actresses. Dusti, Acro—they would have been glad to tease you unmercifully, had you ever glanced their way.”

  “They are not my interest.”

  “So you do have an interest,” Cyrus said, pouncing.

  “Yes. But she never gave any indication.”

  “Crabapple!” Rhythm said, reading his mind. “I’ll fetch her.”

  “Don’t!” Curtis said. But she was already gone.

  “She is a very nice and beautiful person,” Cyrus said. “But any semblance of condescension or pity would alienate her. She is completely realistic about her condition.”

  “She is,” Curtis agreed. “I appreciate realism”

  Rhythm reappeared with Crabapple, who looked amazed. “I had no idea!”

  “I have been incognito,” Rhythm said. “But this is important. Please listen.” She turned to Curtis. “Make your case”

  The curse friend looked extremely uncomfortable, but made the best of it. “I do not wish to embarrass or offend you, Crabapple. I find myself attracted to you. These folk wish to persuade me to remain with the troupe instead of departing it at this point. If you should have any potential interest—” He shrugged.

  “Why should you have any such interest in me?” Crabap-ple asked evenly.

  “Apart from your beauty and character?”

  She almost smiled. “Apart from those.”

  “I think you would not laugh when I removed my boots.”

  “I
don’t think I understand”

  Curtis sat down and pulled off a boot. Beneath it was a club foot. It was a solid club, capable of doing some damage if swung at anyone. But as a foot it was ludicrous. Obviously he needed the boots to preserve his balance and mobility, not to mention his pride.

  “Oh, Curtis, I didn’t know!” Crabapple said.

  “It has been my secret.” He removed the other boot to expose a matching club.

  It was almost possible to see the wheels turning in her head. “You understand about—limbs, Curtis.”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “I never liked being patronized. But your affinity is legitimate”

  He looked at her. “Is there then a prospect for your interest?”

  “There is a prospect,” she agreed. “Not a guarantee.”

  “That will suffice.” Curtis turned to Cyrus. “I will remain with the troupe for the duration.”

  “I would appreciate a pretext to associate with you,” Cra-bapple said. “Without generating unkind rumors.”

  “We’re going to need to train in a new producer,” Cyrus said.

  “That intrigues me,” she said. “If—”

  “I should be glad to share my expertise,” Curtis said.

  Cyrus exchanged a glance with Rhythm. It seemed they had a deal.

  Once they were clear of the Curse Friend’s residence, Cyrus called the troupe together for a briefing. “We have completed our tour successfully,” he said. “Now I have in mind a more challenging tour. Any of you who do not wish to participate will be free to leave.”

  “We know the plays,” the Witch said. “What’s so challenging?”

  “I want to tour territory controlled by Ragna Roc.”

  “But he might delete us!”

  “For what reason? We’re entertainers”

  Several of the troupe members had been at the Good Ma-gician’s Castle. They understood that Cyrus had some sort of special mission. They were nervous, but did not protest.