Five Portraits

  Yet she was not completely satisfied with this deadly dull life. It took her some time to figure out what was bothering her. She covertly observed other creatures—she had to hide to do it, because they sensibly fled in horror and/or terror the moment they saw or winded or heard her—and noted that while they too foraged or hunted for food, and generated manure, and fought and slept, they also associated in pairs or even small groups. Sometimes they became very friendly with each other. The mating part was obvious, but why did they continue to be together after it was accomplished?

  She realized in time that they associated because they liked each other and enjoyed interacting on a more or less continual basis. This was foreign to her nature, it as she studied it, it began to appeal to her. She wanted to be friends with others, to achieve love, and to have romance. But this was of course impossible. If she encountered a cockatrice he would want to be with her only one minute and never again. That simply was not enough.

  She finally concluded that she would never achieve her dreams as a basilisk. Her kind simply were not loving creatures. Yet her impossible desire remained. What could she do?

  It occurred to her that the humans might know. They associated with each other all the time, and even made houses so they could live constantly together. She knew better than to approach a human; they were as wary of her kind as any creature was, and somewhat more effective in attacking. She had had a couple of narrow escapes. No creature could overcome her in close combat, but humans used spears, arrows, and thrown stones that were effective from a distance.

  However, she managed to spy on one human family by burying herself in compost close behind their house. That not only hid her, it masked her deadly body odor, and she was able to overhear their dialogues in the house. She remained for many hours at a time, mostly listening. In this manner she slowly learned their language. She couldn’t speak it, because her mouth and tongue were wrong, but she came to understand it.

  One day the man and woman discussed something truly remarkable. It seemed that there was a grumpy old human or gnome called the Good Magician who answered questions for a fee. The fee was a year’s service to him at his castle, or the equivalent. Querents, as they were called, constantly sought to bother him with Questions. He didn’t like to be bothered, so he had set up his castle to force anyone approaching to navigate three difficult challenges before they could get inside. This significantly cut down the number. Those few who made it in got Answers and paid with their Services, and that was that.

  That was what she should do. Maybe the Good Magician would be able to solve her problem. In fact, maybe he would have a spell to enable her to become human so that she could then experience everything she was missing as a basilisk. The more she considered it, the more it appealed to her. She would do it.

  Thus it was that she set out for the Good Magician’s Castle. She had ascertained where it was. In fact there were enchanted paths leading right to it. Unfortunately she could not use those paths, because they were spelled to exclude dangerous creatures like her. But she followed alongside them, and was duly guided. In due course she reached it, or at least a place in the deep forest that enabled her to gaze at it.

  It was beautiful in the human manner, with lofty turrets, a crenelated surrounding wall, and a circular moat that featured a handsome moat monster. There was a drawbridge across the moat, but at the moment it was drawn up. That would be no problem for her; she could swim well enough, and the moat monster would know better than to try to bother her. But she was sure it would not be that easy. She had learned that the Good Magician always seemed to know who was coming—he was after all the Magician of Information—and prepared Challenges tailored to the specific Querent. Also, that the person’s magic talent was not effective here. So she would likely face problems that balked a basilisk, without being able to kill them with a glance. That could be awkward.

  Well, she would find out. She emerged from the forest and advanced on the castle.

  A man came to intercept her before she even reached the moat. His hand hovered near his hip, where a squat mechanical device was hooked to his belt. “Draw, stranger,” he said.

  Astrid halted. He wanted her to draw a picture? That was odd. But she could oblige him. She scraped a section of ground clear with her tail, then used a paw to draw a little picture of a nest up in the top of a tall tree.

  The gunman paused. “I’ll be bleeped,” he said. “I can read that. You’re saying ‘High,’ meaning ‘Hi.’ Well, hi to you too, basilisk. But that isn’t the kind of drawing I meant.”

  It wasn’t? Astrid looked at him curiously.

  “Look, Bask, I’m a troubleshooter. I shoot at trouble, banishing it. And you’re certainly trouble. The worst kind, because you kill folk with your stare. If it weren’t for the counter-spell nullifying your deadly gaze and smell, I’d be in deep bleep already. But I’m giving you a fair chance. I mean either draw your gun faster than I can draw mine, so you can plug me first, or get out of here, defeated. Otherwise I’ll plug you. It won’t actually be lethal, because the magic protects you to that extent, but it will knock you out, and when you recover you’ll be far away from here with a geis on you to stay the bleep away from this castle. Now do you understand? This is a Challenge. It’s my job to get rid of you so you won’t bother the Good Magician with your stupid Question. Got it now?”

  Geis? She had not encountered this word before.

  “It’s a magical obligation,” the man explained. “Locks you in so you can’t violate it.”

  He knew what she was thinking? This was scary.

  “So are you going to draw or flee, moron?” the Troubleshooter demanded.

  She might have been inclined to turn tail and depart, as this Castle business was more complicated than she had anticipated. But there was something about his attitude that annoyed her. So she reversed her mental course and decided to plow on through. Obviously she couldn’t draw her gun, as she had no gun and no hand suitable to hold it. This challenge was completely unfair in that respect.

  There had to be a way. That was part of the lore she had overhead: there was always a way. She just had to be smart enough to find it.

  She looked quickly around. All she saw was a few bright coins scattered on the ground. She knew, again from her eavesdropping, that human folk valued coins, though they really had little or no use for them. Could this be a way?

  “You’ve had enough time, compost beast,” the troubleshooter said. “If you don’t turn tail this instant, I’ll plug you.”

  Astrid turned tail in that instant, forestalling the gunman’s action. But she wasn’t fleeing. She was going for the coins.

  The nearest was a plugged nickol. She could tell because she smelled the nickel metal, and there was a hole through its center. The gunman must have plugged it earlier, ruining its value. Evidently he liked plugging things, just for the bleep of it.

  She began to get a glimmer of the beginning of a notion. Just how much did he like plugging coins? Especially if it became a challenge?

  She found a Heaven Cent, a truly beautiful little coin. She swept it up with a paw and hurled it high in the air toward the gunman.

  Sure enough, he whirled, drew his gun, and fired. The coin rang as his bullet struck it, knocking it right out of the air. He was certainly a good shot. That might actually be his weakness.

  She found a Heaven Nickel and swept it up similarly. She couldn’t grasp and hold an object in her paw, but she could throw it by sweeping it out of the dirt. The Nickel arced high in the air.

  The Troubleshooter plugged it, again scoring perfectly.

  Good enough. Astrid found several more coins, and crammed them into her mouth. They were cold and dirty, and some were truly foul, but she could handle that. When she had them all, she ran rapidly forward, toward the Castle.

  “Hey!” the Troubleshooter called, drawing his gun.

&nb
sp; Astrid spat out a Heaven Quarter and swiped it into the air behind her. The gunman whirled and shot at it, plugging it right though the center. But meanwhile Astrid was running. When the Troubleshooter reoriented and aimed at her again, she spat out a Heaven Dollar and heaved it up, and he plugged it. She followed with a Hell Cent. That one went up in vile smoke when plugged. Then a Hell Nickel, and Hell Quarter. The gunman got them all.

  And she was at the moat.

  “Dang,” the Troubleshooted cussed. “You diverted me and got through. Nice going, Bask.”

  It seemed she had navigated the First Challenge. So how was it relevant to her situation, as she had never messed with coins or guns before? Well, it had forced her to use her mind instead of her lethal stare, and practice in that could be an advantage when interacting with humans. She was pleased with herself.

  She didn’t even need the Hell Dollar, so she made a careful swipe with her paw and skipped it across the moat. The moat monster watched it but knew better than to snap it up.

  But her glee was soon doused by a far more negative reflection as she gazed into the water of the moat. So she had made it through one Challenge, really mostly by sheer luck. What made her think she could handle two more? And if my some mischance she did, why did she think the Good Magician could or would actually help her? This whole thing was ridiculous!

  As if echoing her thoughts, she heard sonorous music. It seemed to be coming from the blue water of the moat, and it was turning everything else blue: the sandy bank, the motley plants growing on it, even her own body. In fact it was the Blues! She had heard humans speaking of them: music that really depressed people.

  She must have activated it by skipping the Hell Dollar, signaling her completion of the first Challenge. So could she change it? Green! she thought. And lo, the water turned green, and the music changed. So did the sand bank and plants, all becoming deep green. Now she felt very environmentally friendly, wanting to help the whole natural environment.

  She tried again, thinking Yellow. Not only did the environment assume a yellow cast, she felt very afraid.

  Pink, she thought. The color changed, and so did the music, both becoming very soft and feminine.

  So she could change colors, but remained bound to them. This wasn’t getting her past what must be the Second Challenge. Playing with it wasn’t enough; she needed to counter it. But how?

  Well, in the prior Challenge she finally made it work for her. How could she make this music work for her? Music was for listening and dancing, and of course a lizard couldn’t dance.

  Or could it? She had four legs, but why should dancing be restricted to two legs? She could dance to music, in her fashion. She thumped her legs, forming a cadence, a beat. The music aligned, becoming sprightly. She was doing it!

  Except that she needed to get across the moat. Dancing was not helping there. She could swim, but she suspected that this would not be allowed. She tried wading into the water. Sure enough, she did not float; she remained on the lake floor. She would have to hold her breath a long time to cross it—far longer than she was able. She had to find a magical or punnish way. Maybe a music and dance way.

  Dance puns. What about Atten-dance? Abun-dance? Depen-dance? Those did not seem promising.

  Then it came to her: Ascen-dance! A dance that made a person rise.

  The thought brought the music. It became uplifting. She danced, and her feet were light. She moved out onto the water, her whole body almost floating. Her feet touched the water and did not sink in. She was dancing on the water. Ascent-dance-sea!

  She danced on across the moat. Halfway across she passed the moat monster, whose green head oriented on her. She paused, smirking—and sank into the water.

  She scrambled to resume the cadence, or ca-dance. She fought to recover the music. She managed to get them back and resume her progress. Distractions were deadly! She could have drowned trying to annoy the moat monster. That was an inadvertent lesson, but worth remembering.

  She made it to the inner bank and flopped on the sand, panting. Ascen-dancing was hard work! But she had made it through the Second Challenge.

  Soon she perked up and looked around. There was a space between the moat and the outer castle wall. There were a number of gates in the wall, each open and offering access to the interior. So where was the Third Challenge? Astrid did not trust this. Suppose she entered, and the gate slammed shut behind her, and it was the wrong access? The Challenge might be to figure out the correct gate before using any of them.

  She walked along the space, eying each gate in turn. They seemed similar, but they did have different names printed on each. She was able to read them because during her spying on the human family, the child had been given exercises in reading. He was saying each word, then writing it with a stick in the dirt. Watching him practice had taught her the written form too. In fact, on occasion he had trouble with his spelling, doing it different ways for the same word. One day the word he spoke was Feud, but he spelled it Food. He was doubtful, but could not get it right. That bothered her. Finally she had quietly emerged from her hiding place and shown herself to him. He was too young to recognize her deadly nature, so he was not afraid; he took her for a large lizard, which technically she was. She was careful not to look him directly in the eye. Instead she took a deep and obvious breath and held it. So he imitated her, holding his own breath, glad for the distraction from his dull lessen. He took it for a game. That protected him from her odor. She walked to the dirt pad, wiped out his word, and scratched in the correct one. Then she had hastily retreated to a safe range, letting out her breath. He brightened as he let out his own breath, recognizing the correction. Thereafter when he had a word problem, he would signal her by holding his breath, and she would correct it for him. It was a convenient collaboration. She was in effect his make-believe playmate, and that satisfied them both. But all too soon he had grown up and moved on into the things of his own realm, like human girls, and she did not see him anymore. It was sad, but had left her with the ability to read, which now was proving useful.

  Not that the printed names were very helpful. They were things like CONJU, ABRO, ARRO, CONGRE, DERO, FRI, FUMI, MITI, and SEGRE. These words had not been in the boy’s lexicon, and she was not sure they made any sense. Of course gates could be named anything, sensible or nonsensical, but what was the point of having them in a Challenge if they were meaningless? So she pondered, and cogitated, and considered, and just plain thought. She was not about to try any of them until she understood their nature.

  So she walked on, and came to a woman putting together mechanical men from a pile of metal rods, wires, and silly putty. Was she here for a reason?

  The woman spied her. “Why, hello, basilisk,” she said cheerily. “Have you lost your way?”

  Astrid shook her head no, but then changed her mind. Maybe she was lost.

  “Well, maybe I can help,” the woman said. “I am Ann Droid. I assemble and control assorted robots. This one will be RX, a doctor machine. Another will be RNA, a geneticist. Every robot is R-something or other. They can be very useful in specialized situations.”

  Astrid did not know what a doctor or geneticist was, so stood mute.

  “Oh, I forgot!” Ann said. “You’re an animal you can’t speak. Let me fix that for the moment.” She rummaged in her pile and came up with a small panel. “Hold this and think your words, and it will speak them for you.”

  Astrid accepted the panel, holding it awkwardly in her mouth. “Like this?” it asked. She was so surprised that she dropped it on the ground.

  “Yes, like that, of course,” Ann said. “It’s a translator. I’m sure you could speak on your own if you had the mouth for it. This merely facilitates communication.”

  Astrid picked up the device again. “So it seems,” it said. “I am Astrid.”

  Ann eyed her thoroughly. “I must say, you are a remarkably fe
tching example of your species, Astrid. The cockatrices must be constantly after you.”

  “They’re a nuisance,” Astrid agreed via the machine. “I have had to glare several of them off.”

  Ann laughed. “Human women do much the same thing, though our glares are more figurative than literal. The typical man wants only one thing, whereas we prefer an acquaintance that endures for more than one minute.”

  Astrid was coming to like this friendly woman. “We do,” she agreed.

  “So what can I do for you, Astrid?”

  This might be awkward. “Are you a Challenge?”

  Ann laughed. “By no means! I am merely part of the setting, as it were.”

  “I am having trouble figuring out what the Challenge is. All I see are mysteriously labeled gates.”

  Ann shrugged. “Doubtless it will come to you in due course.”

  So she was not going to help. Possibly she was merely a distraction. “Thank you,” Astrid said, and set down the translator.

  “You’re welcome, Astrid. I hope you figure it out soon.”

  There were no more gates beyond this section, just the blank wall. Astrid walked back by them, rereading each label. There had to be some clue to their meaning. An array of ten gates with odd names. What was the clue?

  She came to the first gate in the row, labeled INVESTI. Investi-gate.

  A bright bulb flashed above her head. Investigate! It made a word after all.

  She walked back, adding the gate’s name to each one. Conjugate, Abrogate, Arrogate, Congregate, Derogate, Frigate, Fumigate, Mitigate, Segregate. They all made sense on their own terms.

  Good enough. Now which was the proper one to take? Probably Investigate, as that was what she was doing. She walked to that one and started through.

  And it slammed closed, just missing her snoot. No access here. So she must have guess wrong.