“Yes,” Olive said. “You lost your mind, so we returned it to you.”
“This is disaster!”
They stared at him, uncomprehending.
There were footsteps in the hall. Sharon appeared, taking in the scene at a glance. “What have you done to my crazy brother?” she demanded, appalled.
“We returned his mind,” Jumper said. She was another man’s sister? Sharon rushed to the man. “Oh, Dick, I’m so sorry!” She turned on Jumper and Olive. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Look at the harm you’ve done.”
“Harm?” Jumper asked numbly. “All we did was restore his sanity.”
“Exactly. This is Dick Philip, the infamous writer. How can he write his wild books now? His mad genius is gone, thanks to your meddling.”
“I—I’m sorry,” Olive said. “I thought—”
“Try not to think, doxie. It’s dangerous.”
“Maybe I can help,” Olive said. “I have some pretty wild friends. For example here are two writers, Robert Hindsight and Isaac Azimuth. They’re very good at seeing future history and new directions in science.”
Whereupon two
demented-looking young characters appeared.
“Hi,” the boy said. “I’m Willie.”
“And I’m Nillie,” the girl said.
“Apart we’re reasonably well behaved,” Willie said, pushing a chair into the wall, denting one or the other.
“But together we’re sheer mischief,” Nillie said zestfully, her elbow knocking over Dick’s mug of boot rear so that it sent several scrolls flying. 039-40892_ch01_4P.qxp 7/30/09 12:35 PM Page 153
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“Oh, bleep!” Olive swore. “I forgot the madness of the environment. I can’t summon the right friends.” The figures faded out.
“Just a moment,” Dick said. “That’s your talent? Conjuring people?”
“Imaginary friends,” Olive agreed. “I’m Olive Hue.”
“I love you too,” he said, sweeping her into his embrace.
“I didn’t say—” she protested.
“The madness made it sound like ‘I love you,’ ” Jumper said.
“Well, it does, but that doesn’t mean to take it literally.”
“However, I choose to do so,” Dick said, kissing her soundly. “You are exactly what I need now, Olive Hue.”
“This is crazy!” she protested weakly. It was obvious that the crazy kiss had considerable impact; two and a half little hearts were orbiting her head.
“On the contrary,” Dick said. “It is completely rational. Deprived of my own creative madness, I need yours. With you by my side, I may yet achieve notoriety if not greatness. Perhaps they will even film truly bad dreams from my ideas.”
Sharon nodded. “You broke it, you bought it, doxie.”
Olive looked wildly about. “I— I—” Then she made half a decision.
“I need to consider further. Kiss me again.”
He did. This time six little hearts and a planet swirled around her head.
“Let’s give them time to consider,” Sharon murmured, catching Jumper by the hand. Such was his bemusement, he allowed her to lead him to a separate chamber.
“Are you going to seduce me again?” he asked, trying to put up at least a show of re sis tance as she set his hands on her plush bottom. He could feel the intoxicating outline of pan ties under her skirt.
“Of course. Do you object?”
“Well—”
She kissed him on the mouth. “You were saying?”
“Nothing.”
Her hands were busy with his clothing. “What, not even how you still expect to complete your mission?”
“Oh. Yes.”
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“You drive a hard bargain. I have no choice but to accede.” She drew him down on the bed with her, flattened her bare body against him, and stroked him somewhere exciting. Then the ellipsis caught them both and flung them madly about before wearing them pleasantly out. After a reckless time they returned to the writer’s den. “If you must go, at least carry this with you,” Dick was saying as Olive tucked her blouse back in. He proffered a tiny model pen.
“What is it?” she asked as she combed out her storm-tossed hair.
“An amulet that will conjure you to me for an hour at a time. So I can glean inspiration from your wild imagination.”
“Is that all?” she asked archly.
“Yes, in the five minutes remaining of the hour after our phenomenal passion is expended.”
She nodded. “Ah. Very well, then.” She took the pen.
“I believe they have worked it out,” Sharon murmured.
“So it seems,” Jumper agreed.
It was time to return to the others. Sammy led them there. This time the girls were engrossed in a new game, and did not notice the return of the two. “That looks like Nineteen Questions,” Olive whispered, cautioning him to silence. “They must have gotten tired of cards.” So he was quiet, not sure what this was about. Wenda was in the center, while the others sat in a circle around her.
“My turn to ask,” Dawn was saying. “If you had a nice man, and could make him do anything you wanted, for one minute, what would it be?”
The woodwife was silent. “That’s the game,” Olive whispered. “She must answer only yes or no, truthfully.”
After a pause to let Wenda think about it, Dawn asked “Kiss your mouth?”
Wenda shook her head, no.
“Kiss your hand?”
No.
“Your foot?”
No.
“The further it goes, the worse it gets,” Olive whispered. “By the 039-40892_ch01_4P.qxp 7/30/09 12:35 PM Page 155
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time it gets to the nineteenth question, a person can be reduced to a quivering mass of mortification.”
“Your chest?”
Wenda blushed, but shook her head.
“Your newly rounded bottom?”
Wenda’s blush was burning. She did not want to answer. Then she spied her salvation. “They’re here!” she exclaimed, having a legitimate way to change the subject. “Did yew—?”
There was a muted sigh among the others. The game had just been getting interesting. Jumper had found it so, also. Why should a girl want a man to kiss her bottom? But, thinking as a man, he realized that this might indeed be fun, for no sensible reason he could fathom. Olive held up the pen. “Yes, he gave me an amulet. He is one crazy lover, even if he is now utterly sane.”
“Maeve and I know how that is,” Wenda said, her blush fading. “But yew did knot—?”
“I didn’t quit the mission. I made that clear. So even if he is an agent of Pluto, all he’s getting is me.”
“And you?” Maeve asked Jumper.
“She was there again,” he agreed. “Posing as his sister.”
“You’re becoming fascinated with her,” Dawn said, touching his hand. “That’s dangerous.”
“I know. But I am true to my mission, and I know there’s no future in that relationship. I’m a spider.”
“And she’s a shape changer. She could assume spider form, if she wanted to.”
“There’s the thing,” he said glumly. “She won’t want to. Once we complete the mission, she’ll disappear, angry. So my only chance with her is now.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” she said sympathetically. “You deserve better, Jumper.”
What would be better, regardless what he deserved? He changed the subject. “It must be time to get out of the gourd.”
“It is,” Haughty said. “Are we all ready?”
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“But we didn’t finish the game,” Phanta protested.
“You don’t need to,” Haughty said. She disappeared. Then they started disappearing, one by one, as before. This time the last one left before
Jumper was Dawn. “I’ll bet you think I’m going to flash you,” she said.
“Well, Eve did, and you seem similar in your mischief.”
“Jumper, we both enjoy incidental naughtiness. But there is more to it than that. Sharon is trying to win your love so she can demand that you quit the mission. We’re trying to remind you that there are other women who have what she has. You don’t have to be with her to get it.”
What was she driving at? “I don’t think I understand.”
“Don’t let her corrupt you from the mission. We don’t want to have to step in to salvage it.”
“I’m not going to quit the mission!”
“Because Eve and I are prepared to do what we have to do to keep you on track. We need you, Jumper.”
What they had to do? “I still don’t think I understand.”
“Have fun with her, but never lose your larger perspective. The welfare of Xanth depends on it. That Internet–Outernet connection is the only remaining reliable link to Mundania. If we lose that, it could be centuries before any similar link is reestablished.”
She was serious. Obviously the two Sorceresses were not here incidentally. “And I thought you were just going to flash me.”
Dawn smiled. “That too.” She opened her shirt, revealing her outstanding bra. “We will go as far as we need to, to salvage the mission. We hope we don’t have to.”
Then at last she vanished, leaving Jumper half stunned. Half of that was from her full bra, which really did have eye-glazing magic. The other half was from her words. Was she implying that she and Eve would take their flashing to the next level and actually seduce him, to counter Sharon’s influence?
Dawn must have arranged to have this time with him. This was no irresponsible teen girl; this was a cynical Sorceress with her own agenda. What had he gotten into?
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Next day they were back in the Found Cabin, ready for the next scene. This time it was Phanta with the Tombstone of Death, or at least the lost will to live.
“We see a certain formula,” Eve said. “Sharon caters to Jumper, getting him out of the way so a handsome man can seduce whichever girl brings the symbol. Every one of us will be under siege by the minions of Pluto. He may be reduced to a Dwarf Demon, but he remains far more than any of us can handle directly. His main constraint is that one Demon can’t directly interfere in the territory of another. So he’s trying to seduce us away from our mission, literally. Those men are crafted to be highly appealing. But we can be sure they’ll all dump us the moment they are sure they can’t corrupt us. So play along, but not too far.”
“Why is Pluto so determined to prevent the cable from being repaired?” Phanta asked. “Surely he can’t be that thin-skinned about his demotion.”
“We don’t know,” Eve said. “Maybe there’s a Demon bet involved. Whether he can prevent the repair. One that might restore his status if he wins.”
“In that case, he has just begun to fight,” Haughty said. 039-40892_ch01_4P.qxp 7/30/09 12:35 PM Page 158 158
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“Yes. But that’s not our concern. We just need to get that break repaired.”
“That’s all,” Jumper agreed, realizing that it was likely to be a considerably greater challenge than they had thought.
“After we discover what we’re looking for in dreamland,” Dawn said.
Phanta lifted the tombstone. “What’s the point?” she asked, then was flustered. “Oops, I was reading it. I mean, Sammy, lead us to the one this belongs to.”
The cat was off like an orange flash. Jumper and Phanta followed as well as they could.
This time they found themselves in the horror territory. Walking skeletons were rising out of graveyards, ghosts flitted in the windows, and an impressive haunted house loomed against the pale light of a gibbous moon. At this point Sammy faltered. He settled on the ground, but no one was there.
“What, lost, Sammy?” Phanta asked. “Do you want me to ask directions?”
How could he be lost? Jumper wondered. Sammy could find anything. But Phanta was already ghosting. She floated up to a window and broached a ghost, who looked taken aback. Maybe it wasn’t accustomed to dreamers assuming its own nature.
After a moment and a half she returned, to both Jumper and physical form. “He says the cat is not lost, he just ran afoul of a patch of catnap.” She went to Sammy, reached down, and pulled up a clump of herbs that were under Sammy’s nose.
The moment the catnap was clear, Sammy resumed motion, apparently not realizing that there had been an interruption. “Thanks, ghost!”
Phanta called, blowing the ghost a kiss. The ghost reeled and floated away, blissfully freaked out.
Sammy ran to the dark garden beyond the haunted house, where scary statues lurked. But he didn’t stop there. He ran on by, past a field of grazing sheep, to a nearby barn. And by it, to some sort of grim building. And inside it.
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Now the true horror of this setting became evident. The stink of death suffused it. Blood was splashed around, as if some maniacal murderer had gone berserk. A man appeared. “Hey, this area is restricted. No visitors.”
Sammy settled down at his feet.
Jumper faded into the woodwork. This was Phanta’s mission, to handle as she saw fit.
She did. “Did you lose your will to live?”
The man paused. “How could you know that, stranger?”
“I am Phanta, here to return what you lost.” She showed the tombstone. The man shook his head. “I can’t accept that.”
“Why not? Isn’t it yours?”
“You would not like my explanation.”
Phanta studied him. He was a handsome man. Jumper had discovered that that sort of thing could influence a woman. “Try me,” she said. He sighed. “Very well. I am Shepherd, guardian of the sheep.”
“We saw them grazing outside,” she said.
“Yes. They trust me. That’s why I don’t want to live.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You would hate me if you did.”
This was becoming curious. What was on the man’s mind?
“Try me,” Phanta repeated.
Shepherd looked at her. She was a pretty woman. Jumper knew from personal experience that that sort of thing could influence a man.
“Are you sure?”
“I promise not to hate you.”
Encouraged, Shepherd continued his explanation. “I guide my flock, and protect them from the big bad wolf. They know they are safe with me. But I am cursed to betray them.”
“Cursed?”
“By the Night Stallion. I once made a joke about a horse of a different choler, and someone snitched, and he cursed me. I can’t escape until rescued by a fair maiden or a horrendous monster, and none of them come to this dull setting. I am doomed.”
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“How do you betray them?” Phanta asked.
“I slaughter them. This is the slaughter house.”
That explained the blood.
“But you don’t have to do that,” Phanta said, appalled.
“Yes, I do. That’s the curse. Each day I must summon ten of them here single file, and club them to death and butcher them as they come. The curse compels me. I hate it, and I wish I could die.”
“But aren’t the sheep innocent?” Phanta asked.
“Yes. That’s part of the hell of it. They are all innocent ewes. I am monstrously guilty. Yet they die, and I survive. In another hour I must do it again.”
This was too much for Phanta. “Jumper!” she called. “I need your help!”
Jumper came out of the woodwork to join them. “I don’t know what I can do,” he said. “A curse is a curse.”
“Who are you?” Shepherd asked suspicio
usly.
“I am Jumper Spider, locked into clumsy human form for the moment.”
“So you are cursed too! You’re really a monster.”
“In a manner,” Jumper agreed.
“You two— a fair maiden and a monster,” Shepherd said, a lightbulb flashing over his head. “You have come to rescue me!”
“Yes, if we can figure out how,” Jumper agreed. “But we’re not authorities on curses.”
“But we can try,” Phanta said.
They tried. “Couldn’t you just walk away?” Jumper asked.
“And desert my loyal sheep? I couldn’t do that. They’d soon lose their way and starve, suffering a crueler extinction than what my curse provides them.”
He had a point. Except that the tombstone asked “What’s the point?”
Maybe that was the real question.
“Why should we bring you your will to live, if you hate your job so much you don’t want to live?” Phanta asked.
“I don’t know. It’s this job, this curse, that’s destroying me. Each time I kill a loyal sheep, I die a little myself.”
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“We have to get you out of that job,” Jumper said.
“But the curse—”
“F**k the curse!” Phanta exclaimed. “Oops, I’m imitating Haughty.”
But Jumper was getting a glimmer. “You are bound by the curse. What are the sheep bound by?”
“They go where I guide them,” Shepherd repeated with forced patience. “They trust me.”
“Suppose you told them the truth?”
“I couldn’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“The curse prevents me.”
“Suppose someone else told them?”
“They wouldn’t listen. They don’t trust strangers.”
“Maybe they would, if we did it correctly.”
“Are you daft? The language doesn’t matter. They heed only me.”
“I think Jumper is on to something,” Phanta said. “I could tell them.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? They won’t heed you. They’re sheep. ”
“Let’s give it a try anyway.”