The Dastard

"Eck Sray, my fiancé," she explained. "He sees through things. When we first met, he saw right through my skirt to my panties, and--"

  Oh, no! He had abolished the incident that attracted Mac's attention to her, only to have her meet another man who was attracted by the same thing. Which meant that the Dastard still didn't have any decent chance to get an indecent look himself.

  He was tired of such frustrations. So he decided to snatch what spot of pleasure he could, and move on. His talent had one more aspect that could be extremely useful on occasion, and this might be such an occasion.

  He reached across the table and caught Jade's head. He pulled her in for a hot kiss. It was pretty good, considering that her lips were mushy; surprise had made her forget to firm them.

  Then she jerked away and screamed. A huge older man appeared from the garden. "What's the matter, honey? This creep bothering you?"

  "Yes, Father," she said. "He kissed me!"

  "Well now," the man said grimly. He strode toward the Dastard, raising a hamfist.

  But the Dastard got out of there by going into limbo and changing his own recent past. He could do that, to a limited extent. He could go back as far as a day, if he hadn't been changing the lives of others, or otherwise as far back as the last change he had made. When he changed others, that fixed his own presence, lest he run afoul of paradox. So in this case he was limited to about five minutes, since he had abolished Mac. That was enough; he went back to just before he kissed Jade, and this time he didn't kiss her. The episode had never happened.

  But he remembered it. He was the only one who could remember events that he had made unhappen. So that he didn't lose his awareness of his own dastardly deeds. After all, what would be the point, if he didn't remember?

  Jade was still talking about how great Eck Stray was, and how they were going to be married soon, and then he wouldn't need to see through her clothing to see her panties, because she would show them to him anytime.

  "Uh, sure, thank you," the Dastard said, trying to control a fit of jealousy, and moved on. She was a pretty girl, but as usual he had gotten nowhere. He hated that.

  There was another nexus some distance ahead. Maybe that would be better. He needed something to shore up his spirits. He had a great talent, and he had no soul, which gave him wonderful freedom, but it wasn't enough. He wanted a woman, too. A pretty one.

  Farther along he spied an animal going the opposite way. Was this the nexus? No, his sense did not respond. But the creature approached him. It was a male canine, but did not seem to be a werewolf. What did it want?

  He saw that it wore a mundane collar, from which dangled a little sign. He read the sign: MY NAME IS BOSS. I AM A 90 POUND BLACK LABRADOR DOG. I LOST MY HOME AND AM LOOKING FOR A NEW ONE. CAN YOU HELP?

  "Certainly I can help," the Dastard said. "But I won't. Go away."

  The dog walked sadly on. It was momentarily satisfying to frustrate him, but hardly worth the effort.

  In due course he came to the nexus. It was at a statue of the Sea Hag, a Sorceress he had always admired. She took the bodies of young pretty girls and used them until they got worn and ugly, then moved on to others. She must have a fabulous history! She was old, in spirit if not in current body, and must have been around since the dawn of Xanth.

  Then he saw a girl standing there by the statue. She was sort of halfway pretty, with blonde hair and brown eyes, but young. The Adult Conspiracy could get after a man who tangled with too young a girl; he had had some experience, and didn't need any more. So she was of no personal use to him. Still, she was at the nexus, so this needed to be investigated.

  She saw him, "Did you see a big dog? I thought I saw one not long ago, maybe looking for a home."

  The Dastard ignored this. "Who are you?" he asked her.

  "My name is Becka," she said. "Who are you?"

  That set him back. The Dastard was not used to people asking him questions. "Why do you want to know?"

  "Because I'm supposed to wait here until a certain man comes, and then I'm supposed to go with him and help him in whatever way he wishes. I need to know whether you are that man."

  This was interesting. She was at the nexus, and she wanted to help him. Maybe she was what he was looking for, despite her youth. If she didn't tell, who would ever know? So he gave it a try. "Kiss me."

  "No."

  "If you're supposed to help me--"

  "Not that way."

  "How do you know?"

  "I'm too young."

  "Maybe not," he said. He grabbed her and sought to kiss her.

  Suddenly he was holding on to a dragon with purple-tinged bright green scales.

  He backed off five minutes and tried again. They went through the introduction, and this time he answered her question. "I am the Dastard, because I do dastardly deeds. Do you have a problem with that?"

  "I guess not," she said. "You must be going to do something good for Xanth, that I'm supposed to help you with. Otherwise the Good Magician wouldn't have sent me."

  "The Good Magician! He sent you to meet me?"

  "Yes. Didn't you know?"

  "No. Why should that little old wizened gnome want to do anything for me?"

  "I don't know. My guess is he wants to do something good for Xanth."

  The Dastard pondered. This was a curious business. He hadn't known that Magician Humfrey even knew about him, let alone wanted to help him. Maybe it would be better to slide back through limbo and nullify that connection. But he hesitated, because he knew the Good Magician was a sharp old codger with a lot of information, and if he changed Humfrey's action once, he would not be able to change it again thereafter, because of the rule of paradox. Maybe the Good Magician was counting on that, to mess him up. So he would play along, and learn more about it, not acting until he was sure. Having a good magic talent was one thing; using it effectively was another.

  Meanwhile, here was this girl who could become a flying dragon. She was obviously no prospect for any romance, and not just because she was too young. She could defend herself. He hated that. But she might indeed be useful, if he could figure out how.

  "Very well," he said. "Tag along for a while. And if you don't like what I do, then you can depart." And that would get rid of her without putting him into any paradox bind with respect to the devious Good Magician.

  "Okay," she agreed.

  It was definitely a nexus, but not one he properly understood. Yet.

  Chapter 2

  THREE LITTLE PRINCESSES

  They were four years old, and they were bored. It wasn't all that easy to be a princess. Their mother, the Sorceress Ivy, had the talent of Enhancement, and she certainly had been using it recently. Every trifling wee little inconsequential thing had been magnified beyond all reason. It was said that this was any mother's talent, but that didn't make it easier to endure.

  For example, there was the incident of the Pay Phone. Xanth had gotten connected in the past year or so to a magical network called the Mundane Mega Mesh, which folk like Com Pewter and Com Passion tied into. But because it related to Mundania, which it seemed was not quite as stodgy a region as reputed, there had to be a Phone. So a Pay Phone had appeared in Castle Roogna. A person could talk into it all she wanted, but somebody had to Pay. Somebody else took care of that; it wasn't their concern. They had gotten hold of the Phone and discovered how to talk for hours to several people in Mundania, including something called Phone Sects. It had been mysterious but fun. But Mother had magnified it ludicrously, and forbidden them to touch the Phone again.

  Then there was the See Saw in the playground. It had eyes to see what it sawed, and they used it to saw through several things, like the door to their bedroom. What was the problem with that? They had discovered that See Saws even had conventions, and had used their Saw to travel from See to shining See. But Mother had claimed they were lost for those three days, and had half a conniption. She had not been reasonable at all.

  And the pair-it. This was a pretty green bi
rd that doubled objects it touched. So it made pairs of their toys, beds, potties, and dresses. And pairs of the pairs, unendingly. Soon their room was filled with pairs of things. In fact, they overflowed into the hall. That was when the adults got involved, and there was another awful fuss about nothing much.

  So here they were, shut in with absolutely nothing to do except practice their talents. This was to sing and play things real. So far they had used it mostly for illusions, such as fancy castles, complete with secret chambers and moats filled with tasty tsoda pop from the lake, and of course Soufflé Moat Monster. They had even managed to make the castles solid, so that they were no longer illusions, but had to keep them small, like dollhouses, so they would fit in the room. But there was a limit to the interest of conjured little castles, and anyway, Mother didn't like the moat water splashing across the floor and dripping on the heads of visitors in the rooms below. Yet another molehill made into a mountain.

  "Maybe we can have a good pillow fight," Melody suggested. She wore her customary green dress, to go with her green/blonde hair. She was most like her mother Ivy, including her blue eyes. "And bash the pillows to splintereens."

  "Maybe we can conjure pillows with stink horns in them," Harmony said. Her dress was brown, to match her hair and eyes. She was most like her father, Grey Murphy. "And stink up the whole castle."

  "No, we got in trouble the last time we did that," Rhythm said. Her dress was red, matching her hair but not her green eyes. She was most like her big cousin Dawn. "Mother raised almost as much of a stink as we did."

  The three burst into titillations of mirth. That had indeed been fun, despite Mother's overreaction. After all, it had required only three days and four fumigation spells to deodorize the castle.

  So that option too was gone. The three sat on a bed and settled into half a funk. There was nothing whatsoever to do.

  There was a swirl of smoke in the center of the room. In a moment it formed an eye near the top. "You three look door," the eye observed.

  "Look how?" Melody asked.

  "Sad, dejected, sullen, moody, gloomy, all entrances closed--"

  "Dour?" Harmony asked.

  "Whatever," the eye agreed, squinting irritably.

  "It's the demoness with the speech impediment," Rhythm said.

  "Oh, hi, Metria," Melody said.

  "Yes, we are dourer than dour," Harmony added.

  "Because we have nothing to do," Rhythm concluded.

  The smoke formed into a lovely demoness. This was D. Metria, who had married, gotten half a soul, signaled the stork approximately fifteen hundred times in two years, and finally got its attention. Her half demon son, Demon Ted, was the result. He was the same age as the triplets, and could be fun when he chose to be, because he had crazy naughty boy notions.

  "How would you like the company of Ted and Monica?" Metria asked.

  "Sure!" the three said together. DeMonica was the half demon daughter of Demon Vore and Princess Nada Naga, and she was fun because she had naughty girl notions. She was also four years old. Mother did not really approve of the children's association with Ted and Monica, which made it all the more fun.

  Metria dissolved back into smoke. It formed into a ball, and the ball divided into two parts, which drifted to the floor. One part shaped into a little boy, and the other a little girl. The boy wore blue shorts and blue sneakers, while the girl wore a pink dress with pink sandals, and a red ribbon in her hair. "Hi, triples!" they said together. "Why so glum?"

  "We're all out of mischief," Melody explained.

  "We can fix that," Ted said, smiling so broadly that the corners of his mouth extended into his blond hair.

  "Not if Mother catches on," Harmony said.

  Monica cocked her head to listen, making her brown hair flop. "She's not close," she concluded. "She won't catch on if we're quiet."

  "And if we don't make a smell," Rhythm said.

  The others nodded. They had a formula for success.

  "So what do you have in mind?" Melody asked.

  Ted looked around, making absolutely sure there was no adult within range. "I thought of a way to fathom the Adult Conspiracy."

  "OoooOooo!" the triplets said together, putting at least eight O's and some capitals into it. Of all the nuisances fostered by adults, that was the worst. They absolutely refused to let children learn certain potent words, or find out how the storks were signaled to deliver babies. It was a tyranny that oppressed every child. If Ted had truly found a way to get past that, it was the discovery of the millennium. Childhood would never be the same.

  But Monica was suspicious. "There have been false alarms before," she said. "Like the time you wanted to form a smoke screen we could hide behind so we could see adults doing it."

  "Well, how could I know they would wonder what such a big screen was doing in their bedroom?" That of course was the problem with Ted's ideas: there could be aspects he didn't think of. "Anyway, you didn't do any better spying on love springs."

  "It's my talent," DeMonica said. "Identifying springs. I just wanted to be sure they really were love springs."

  "And they weren't," he retorted.

  "You have a magic talent?" Melody asked, impressed.

  "You can tell what kind of magic a spring has?" Harmony asked, similarly impressed.

  "Well, sometimes I get it wrong," Monica said. "But I know when one is magic, and I'm getting better at types."

  "That's a good talent," Rhythm concluded.

  "Well, there are no springs here," Ted said, getting jealous.

  "Yes there are," Monica said. "And I can identify them: bed springs."

  The triplets laughed gleefully. Then they returned to the subject: the quest to fathom the Adult Conspiracy, They had never made much progress before. Still, it was a worthwhile pursuit. If they ever did manage to fathom the dread Conspiracy, they would tell all other children, and never again would any child be tortured by curiosity. "So what's your idea?" Harmony asked.

  "You three can conjure up a grown blind man," Ted said eagerly. "And a grown blind woman. So they can't see us and know we're watching. If we don't make a sound, they won't know we're here. Then we can watch while they signal the stork."

  They considered this. "Suppose they don't signal the stork?" Rhythm asked.

  "But they always signal the stork, when they're alone together," Ted said. "Twice a day."

  "That's right," Monica said. "Your mother does it twice a day. That's why she palms you off on other folk for baby-sitting."

  "Twice a day," Ted agreed.

  "But that doesn't mean that other grown folk do," Monica said. She was less imaginative than Ted, but more sensible.

  "What else would they do, when there are no children watching?" Ted asked.

  That turned out to be a good question. They couldn't think of anything else adults would do.

  So they got to work on it. Melody began to hum, forming the first part of their magic. Harmony made her harmony-ca appear and played it in time, augmenting the magic. Rhythm conjured her little drum and made a beat, completing the magic.

  First they formed the image of a grown man. When the image was complete, they solidified him. He stood there, not doing much other than breathing. They didn't yet know how to give a conjuration intelligence, but trusted it wouldn't be needed here. Then they formed the image of a grown woman, and solidified her similarly. The man was moderately handsome, and the woman was halfway pretty. Not that it much mattered, because neither had any eyes; they had been drawn blind.

  Now there was a problem. The figures were blind because the children didn't want to be seen. But that meant they couldn't see each other, either; they didn't know they weren't quite alone. However, after a moment they had the man raise one hand, and the woman raise a hand, and the hands banged together so they found each other.

  What would they do next? The children waited in absolute silence.

  The door opened. There was Mother. "What are you up to?" she demanded.
br />   The figures popped out of existence, and the triplets assumed an expression of perfect innocence. But not quite fast enough. Princess Ivy caught half a glimpse of the conjured figures. "So you are trying to undermine the Conspiracy!" she said severely.

  They were fairly caught. "How did you know?" Melody asked.

  "You were too quiet."

  What irony. Their very silence had betrayed them. Now they were in trouble. Again. As usual.

  Then Mother saw Demon Ted and DeMonica. "I should have known," she muttered. "Little demons."

  There was nothing they could say, for she was at least half right. But there was seldom anything to be said when an adult got an Attitude. They just had to wait for the storm to pass.

  "It is time you got some education," Ivy said severely. It was obvious that she had never been a child. "Now you sit there and watch the Magic Tapestry until you learn something." She departed, closing the door decisively behind her.

  Now they were in for truly awful dullness. The Magic Tapestry hung on their wall, as it had for generations, and showed nothing but animated Xanth scenes, past and present. The little woven figures came to life, in a manner, when they were watched, and reenacted their bits of Xanthly lore. It was very educational, which was what made it so dull. It had a spell on it that their friend Breanna of the Black Wave called a V-chip: it chipped out key sections, which made the scenes very dull. No storks at all. If they watched it enough, it would show them all sanitized Xanth History. What a bore.

  They saw an animal wandering. "What's that?" Melody asked.

  "Must be a werewolf," Harmony said.

  "No, it's Mundane," Rhythm concluded.

  They focused on the creature, which had a little sign dangling from his collar. It had words on it, but they couldn't make them out, and anyway, they didn't know how to read.

  "He looks lonely," Melody said.

  "Maybe we should 'dopt him," Harmony agreed.

  "Mom would never let us," Rhythm said. She was obviously right. So, reluctantly, they let the dog wander off the scene, and wished they could wander with him.

  But they had no choice. They set it for Recent History. They happened to spy a night mare racing across the scenery with her cargo of bad dreams. The picture she was going toward had a man just settling down to sleep beside a pleasant spring. Obviously the dream was for him; the mare would arrive just after he fell asleep. The moonlight was bright.