Five Portraits

  Astrid smiled. “We can’t claim credit. We did not know she was following us.”

  “She followed you because you treated her courteously. Not everyone does that, in or out of the Dragon Castle.”

  “No one deserves the sort of treatment I suspect she got at the castle. A werewolf bitch also escaped with us. I hope we can arrange for her safe passage back to her Pack.”

  “Goldie has already asked for that. She said Wesla treated her kindly, being a fellow captive of an esthetic aspect. That meant unkind male demands. We will see that the bitch gets home safely.” The reference clearly was not pejorative. “Our association with the Pack has been mixed. Perhaps it will improve hereafter.”

  “It surely will, Your Majesty,” Wesla said.

  “Goldie tells me you did not know her identity.”

  “Her identity?” Wesla said. “She was just another captive, like me. A common girl. We got along because we faced a far greater horror than any differences of species or personality we might have had.”

  “Ditto,” Astrid said.

  “She is my daughter. Princess Goldie.”

  Astrid and Wesla looked at her, mute.

  “We made no commotion, because that would have been counterproductive. But I was sore of heart to lose her, and measurelessly gratified to have her back. Now relax. Be assured that you will not be ill treated here.” The Queen departed.

  “I believe her,” Wesla said. “Now I realize that Goldie was too refined to be common. But the Dragon King would have held her for ransom had he known, and tortured her if it was not promptly paid. He tortured her some anyway; it was routine. But it could have been worse. She had reason to conceal it.”

  “She had reason,” Astrid agreed.

  Wesla lapsed into wolf form and went to sleep.

  Astrid saw to the welfare of the children, then slept herself.

  In the morning the goblins had a fine breakfast awaiting them. Then a contingent of armed males supervised by an elite female—Goldie herself—made ready to conduct Wesla safely to Wolf Country.

  They both hugged Astrid as they parted. “I knew I could trust you when you spoke well of Wulfha,” Wesla said. “She does not bestow her friendship lightly.”

  “We hope to escape Storage,” Astrid said. “But if we do not, and we survive, we hope to return to associate with the Pack.”

  “Wulfha would surely like that,” Wesla said. “So would I.”

  Then they were gone. “We must move on,” Astrid said to the Queen. “We thank you for your hospitality, but will not impose on you longer.”

  “About that,” the Queen said. “Your route, I believe, lies deep within the mountain. We do not go there, though we are underworld creatures. It is complicated and treacherous, buttressed by deadly illusion.”

  “We have navigated illusion before. It is predatory monsters that concern us more.”

  “We know of none. But of course we have not penetrated far.”

  “We hope to find a route to the outside world. This seems to be it.”

  The queen shook her head. “There may be something hidden in those awful caverns, but we have no certainty that it is an exit from Storage, other than that of death. I know that the children have remarkable abilities, but I fear this is beyond their competence. I understand the Dragon King was able to obtain some of that illusion to mask parts of his castle, but only the simpler parts. I feel you would be better advised to travel back to Wolf Country.”

  That was interesting, but not as fearsome as the Queen evidently thought. “My friends are in Xanth proper. So is my husband. I must return to them if I possibly can. It is also important that the children return. The welfare of Xanth itself may depend on it. I thank you for your concern, but we must make the effort.”

  “I understand. Farewell, Astrid Basilisk.”

  Then they were on their way. The goblins guided them to a tunnel marked ALL HOPE ABANDON in the farthest reach of their domain and watched grimly as they entered it. This time they had torches they could light when they needed them, though the goblins thought they would not be useful. Astrid wondered why, but did not inquire. The tunnel wall emitted a soft glow, so it was easy to follow.

  Before long the tunnel opened into a truly impressive subterranean chamber. Its ceiling was marvelously high and grown with stalactites, while its floor was so far below that it was lost in the darkness. Everything was in shades of gray. From the ceiling dangled assorted ropes, supporting swinging platforms. There seemed to be no way across, yet it also seemed that their route required them to cross.

  “I could float across,” Myst offered. “Maybe see what’s there.”

  “And what if you got caught in a draft?” Astrid asked.

  “Trouble,” the girl agreed. Because she would not be able to get out of it by solidifying; she would drop into the fathomless gulf.

  “We’d better consult.”

  The children linked hands, Communing. Then they separated. “Across,” Firenze said.

  “Using the swings,” Santo said.

  Astrid remembered that this was the Storage section of the Playground. Naturally they had swings in reserve. But she wasn’t clear how they applied.

  “Swing from one to another,” Squid said.

  “And let them swing back,” Win said.

  “For the next person,” Myst concluded.

  That seemed treacherous to Astrid, just as Queen Golden had warned. “Over that gulf? Suppose someone falls?”

  “It’s not as deep as it looks,” Firenze said. He squatted down and put his hand into the void. “Feel.”

  Astrid did the same. Perhaps a foot into it she felt hard rock. “Illusion!” she exclaimed. “How did you know?”

  “Squid put a tentacle down. But it could be deep farther in, so we don’t trust it.”

  “So we’ll swing,” Santo said.

  Astrid gazed at the swings. The nearest one hung tantalizingly close, tied to two stout stalactites above, but just out of reach. “We need a hook, which we don’t have.”

  Win smiled. She faced the swing. The wind passing her increased, pushing the swing away. Then the wind stopped, and the swing swung back. Close enough for Firenze to catch its rope.

  “That isn’t big enough for more than one person at a time,” Astrid said dubiously.

  “We sense it’s part of the magic,” Squid said. “One person per swing.”

  “So one person swings out over the gulf,” Astrid said. “What then? The gulf is huge.”

  “We catch the next swing,” Win said.

  “And the next,” Myst agreed. “A chain.”

  Astrid remained supremely uncomfortable with this. “And where does this chain lead?”

  “Across,” Firenze said. “Where we have to go.”

  Astrid sighed. “I have to trust you, the group of you. But this makes me nervous as bleep.”

  They were silent, waiting for her decision.

  “Oh, I guess we’ll have to do it,” she said without grace. “I just hope your confidence is justified.”

  “This part is,” Santo said.

  That did not reassure her much. “Who swings first?”

  “I do,” Win said. “Then you.”

  “Do it,” Astrid said tightly.

  Firenze held the swing for Win, and she got on it, standing, holding on to the two ropes. He let her go and she swung forward. She arced out over the seeming gulf. Then back again, and forward, the travel diminishing, until she came to rest directly below the supporting stalactites. Astrid opened her mouth, and shut it again; the children surely had something in mind.

  Win stood and blew at the next swing. It moved away from her, then back, and she caught it with one hand. Then she stepped across to the new swing, still holding a rope of the old one. She let go of the old, swinging forward on the n
ew, facing back. She let herself swing slowly to a stop, as before.

  “Ready?” she called.

  “Ready,” Astrid answered, suppressing her nervousness.

  Win blew. She remained still, but the first swing swung away from her. It came to where Firenze could catch it. He held it in place.

  Astrid nerved herself and climbed carefully onto the swing, standing. The board was solid and the ropes firm; that much was reassuring. Then Firenze let it go, and it swung forward. She gazed down into the gulf and quickly away again, as it made her giddy. Maybe it was not deep at all, but it looked almost infinite.

  She let herself swing back and forth until she came to a halt. What now?

  Win turned around and blew at the third swing. Soon she caught it on the back-swing, and transferred again. Then she blew the second swing back to Astrid. Astrid caught it, and transferred. She let the first one go, and it swung back to the rim of the gulf, where Firenze caught it.

  Myst was next. But they did not send her on immediately. First Win and Astrid had to move on respectively to Swings Four and Three. They did, and Astrid let Swing Two go, waiting for it to settle.

  Then Myst swung forward to catch Swing Two. Now there were three of them on the swings. They had established a kind of procession.

  In this manner they proceeded slowly across the gulf. It seemed precarious, but actually the platforms were firm and the ropes provided firm handholds.

  When they were strewn out in a line of six directly over the center of the gulf, there was a flicker of motion to the side. Oh, no! It was a small gray flying dragon! Right when they were unable to avoid it.

  “Santo, can you hole it?” Astrid asked.

  “Sure,” Santo said. He was the fourth in line, after Myst. He focused on the approaching dragon.

  The creature continued flying toward them. Now it shot out a thin stream of gray fire.

  “Any time now, Santo,” Firenze said. He was the last in line, after Squid.

  “I’m doing it!” Santo snapped. “But it’s not scoring.”

  “Then I had better do it,” Astrid said grimly. She lifted off her glasses and oriented on the reptile. She needed to have it actually look at her face, in order to score. “Hey beastie!” she called. “This way!”

  But the dragon ignored her. It flew right toward Santo, who raised an arm to fend it off.

  And past him.

  No, through him.

  “Illusion!” he exclaimed. “That’s why I couldn’t hole it! There’s nothing there. Even the fire’s not hot.”

  That was also why it had ignored Astrid’s call, and why her Stare would have had no effect anyway. There was no dragon, just the semblance of one.

  Weak with relief, Astrid let her pulses slow. She had been more worried for the children than herself, but regardless, it had been an unpleasant incident. The dragon’s purpose might have been to scare someone off a swing, to drop into the void. That was surely mischief, regardless how deep it was or wasn’t.

  “Let’s move on,” Astrid said briskly to cover her uncertainty.

  They swung on. Other creatures came, including silent harpies—the lack of screeching was a dead giveaway—a small roc bird, clouds of biting flies, and of course more dragons. All illusions, all quickly gone.

  Win came to a divide in the swings. The main swinging path curved gently to the left, but there was a lesser one curving right. She hesitated.

  “The right,” Firenze called. “I can feel its relevance.”

  Win promptly oriented on the closest small swing to the right and blew it into motion. She caught its back-swing and moved on.

  Astrid was uncertain. “The left side swings are larger, and continue across the gulf,” she said. “The right one veers into a blank wall. Are you sure we should take that one?”

  “He’s sure,” Myst said. “I remember too.”

  Astrid did not argue the case further. She simply had to trust what the children knew, as usual, odd as their choice might seem at times.

  As they progressed, Astrid looked back, gaining a different perspective on the route not taken. Now she saw that the swings went only so far before stopping. That was the true dead end.

  Win caught the last swing before the wall. Was there a ledge there? A hole? Astrid strained to see, but saw nothing.

  Win got on the swing and swung forward, directly into the wall. Astrid winced as she collided.

  And disappeared. Had she dropped into the gulf? No, Astrid had been watching her throughout. She had simply vanished.

  Then the swing came back, and Astrid caught it. It had reappeared—without the child.

  “Illusion!” she exclaimed, relieved. “The wall is an illusion!”

  The remaining children chuckled. They had known it.

  Astrid mounted the new swing and sailed on into and through the wall. She caught the next swing, and sent the old one back through the wall. Win was in the swing beyond, waiting. The line of swings continued on to the far wall.

  Before long they were all in this chamber, whose walls were reddish, as were the swings. It seemed that each chamber had its décor.

  Then there was a sound. Not loud, but there. A kind of swishing. It seemed to come from empty space well to the side of the line of swings.

  Squid sniffed. She had the sharpest senses of all of them: eyes, ears, and nose. “Trouble,” she said.

  “What is it?” Astrid asked.

  “It smells like a little dragon. No, a big bat. It’s not friendly.”

  “But there’s nothing there!”

  “It’s invisible.”

  “Another illusion?” Santo asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “The illusion of invisibility!” Astrid exclaimed.

  “Yes. We have to stop it before it bites us.”

  “Santo?” Astrid asked.

  “I’ll try. Point to it, Squid.”

  Squid changed form and pointed with a moving tentacle, tracing the progress of the bat. It seemed to be headed toward Astrid; she heard the faint sound approaching. Santo squinted, still not seeing it.

  “Hole it anyway,” Astrid said nervously.

  Then there was a little shriek. An injured bat fell out of the air and dropped into the gulf. Astrid caught only a passing glimpse, but its teeth looked vicious. It had come to feed.

  “Now we know,” Astrid said. “Here in the red chamber the creatures are real, but covered by illusions. I fear that’s more dangerous.”

  They organized for the new threat. Squid kept close ears and nose on anything approaching, and Santo was ready to send holes where she pointed. Meanwhile the group swung on across as rapidly as was feasible. They needed to get out of this chamber.

  But Astrid feared there could be something worse beyond it.

  There was another sound, as of a steaming kettle. “Steamer dragon,” Squid announced, pointing.

  Santo loosed a hole where she pointed. There was an angry hiss, and for a moment they saw a small dragon threshing an injured tail. Then a hole appeared in its head and it dropped.

  But now there were several sounds, coming from all around them. “They’re mobbing us!” Astrid said, alarmed. “We need a better way to identify them, or we’re lost.”

  “Maybe I can do it,” Myst said.

  “Do it,” Astrid agreed.

  The child dissolved into a small thick cloud of mist. Then it expanded, becoming a large thin cloud.

  And the invisible creatures showed up within the cloud as blobs of nothing. They remained invisible, but since the mist was visible, their invisibility outlined them. They were like clear bubbles in the fog. “Beautiful!” Astrid murmured.

  Santo swung around, sending needle-size holes toward each hole in the cloud. There was a series of squeaks, squawks, and hisses as the creatures were holed. T
hey dropped down. Soon the cloud was clear.

  “Coalesce, Myst!” Astrid called. “Get back on your swing!”

  The cloud condensed, and soon the child was back on her swing. “I’m glad there’s not a wind,” she said.

  Astrid hadn’t thought of that, in the tension of the moment. A wind would have blown Myst away. “If we come to a windy section, stay solid,” she said.

  They reached the next wall and swung through, one by one. This chamber was pale blue, like washed-out sky, and the swings matched.

  What illusion threat would they find here? Astrid was developing a solid respect for illusions. They could be as lethal as completely solid creatures. “Let’s get on across,” she said. “But watch for anything even slightly unusual.”

  They swung on across, getting efficient at this mode of travel. Then, at the center, where they could neither advance nor retreat readily, the next siege began. A small dragon flew toward them.

  “Back to visible illusions?” Firenze asked. “We can ignore them.”

  “I don’t trust this,” Astrid said. “This should be worse than the others, not a repeat.”

  “There’s something funny about that illusion,” Santo said. “It’s not flying right.”

  “Not for a dragon,” Squid agreed. “That’s more like a bat.”

  “Let me try,” Win said. She stood on her swing and sent a blast of air at the odd dragon as it came at her.

  And it was swept backward. It struggled to right itself and resume its approach.

  “It’s real!” Astrid said, surprised.

  “It’s not real,” Squid said. “At least not the way it looks.”

  “Santo, hole it,” Astrid said grimly.

  The boy oriented. A hole appeared in the dragon. The creature spun out of control and fluttered down into the gulf—as a bat.

  “I knew it!” Squid said. “A bat—masked as a dragon.”

  “But why?” Myst asked.

  Astrid had the answer. “Everything here is an illusion, of one type or another. So this time the illusion covers real creatures, instead of just making them invisible. So we’ll think they aren’t real, and they can reach us and chomp us.”