Page 32 of The Dastard


  "Sure," the Dastard said. "Let me go."

  Then a bulb flashed over Becka's head. "There is another way! The demon--the one who traded for his soul. Maybe the demon will trade back."

  Melody stared at her, brightening. "That would do it."

  "I don't want to trade back," the Dastard said.

  Melody stepped into him and put her arms around him, so close that her soul overlapped him. "I'll hold him here," she called to the others. "Find the demon! Bring him here."

  Sim squawked: "You can't just fetch a demon. You have to summon it by name."

  "What's the demon's name?" Melody asked the Dastard.

  "I'll never tell!"

  Melody squeezed closer to him. She nuzzled his ear with her sweet lips. "What's the name?" she breathed.

  He tried to resist, but there was something about her proximity that weakened him. Maybe it was her soul, overlapping him, reminding him what once had been. "Demon Test," he muttered.

  "On our way," Harmony's voice called from limbo.

  Becka saw that Repulsive was gone. She realized that since the exchange of souls had been unhappened, Melody had never had the Dastard's talent, so had not fled to Castle Roogna and stolen Repulsive's Question and Answer. Repulsive should have had her interview with the Good Magician by now, and been happy, never knowing what else had happened.

  But the primary participants remained: the Dastard, the three princesses, Sim, and Becka herself. It seemed that an unhappening affected the primaries very little. So somehow they had carried through much as before, and were still here as a group. She didn't understand all the intricacies of it, but it was the way it had been with other unhappenings.

  Melody still held the Dastard. "Soon you will have your soul back," she said.

  The man struggled, but obviously felt the soul, and it made him weak. "The joy of you," he breathed. "I gave you up. I can never have you again. You are not my soul. Now I must die."

  He was embracing Melody but speaking to the soul!

  "Maybe not," Melody said, kissing him. "I have seen what you can be, when you are souled. You sacrificed yourself for me. You were manly and decent and lovable. I didn't care then, but now I remember, and now I do care. I believe I could love you. Take back your own soul, and come to Ptero with me."

  Becka stared, understanding. Melody's memory of the Dastard with a soul, and of his sacrifice, was bringing her the love that had seemed impossible. The googolly had been matched.

  "You would do that?" he asked, amazed. "When you don't have to?"

  "I may not be as smart as you are," Melody told him. "But I'm not stupid. You can be a good man. And will be, when I marry you and share my soul with you. Again."

  A demon appeared. "Who summons me?" he demanded.

  Melody did not let go of the Dastard. "Will you trade back with him, D. Test?" she asked. "Take back the talent of unhappening?"

  "Sure I will," Test said. "It was a bad deal for me. His soul is dingy and worn, while the talent is great."

  "Then do it," Melody said.

  "He has to agree," Test said. "Otherwise it won't work. And of course he won't. Why would anyone give up such a talent?"

  "Tell him you agree," Melody said to the Dastard.

  But she wasn't holding him closely, and so the soul no longer overlapped him. "I don't a--"

  She kissed him again. "We can do a lot of this, when you are souled," she murmured. "We can play Faun & Nymph, on Ptero, without end."

  He still tried to defy her, but she kept kissing him, and little hearts formed around their heads. Becka doubted that any man in Xanth, with or without a soul, could resist such persuasion for very long. "I agree!" he gasped at last.

  Test threw something at him, and caught something in return. Then he vanished.

  Harmony and Rhythm appeared. "You may have lost your talent, but we still have ours, as part of our magic," Harmony said.

  "We can slide into limbo," Rhythm agreed. "And unhappen things, now that we have learned how. But we're not going to, except for some good purpose."

  The Dastard stood still. "My name is Anomy," he said. "But I have to tell you, my soul isn't in a class with yours. It's not nearly as nice. And my natural talent is that of having stupid ideas; it's not in a class with yours either. I'm nobody."

  "On Ptero we need very little soul," Melody said, finally letting him go. "Because our world is so small. I'm sure yours will do."

  "But you have every good reason to hate me."

  "You're right: That is a stupid idea."

  He seemed to be at a loss. "How so?"

  Melody smiled. "Must I explain it again?"

  "Maybe you must. I just can't seem to believe that a princess would really want to be with a nothing man like me."

  "When you had my soul, you did everything you could to give it back, though you wanted to keep it. You sacrificed yourself for me. That gave me reason to love you, though I didn't appreciate it until I got my soul back. Come to Ptero with me, and be what you can be."

  The hearts circling his head had not quite faded. Now they grew brighter. "Oh, Melody!" Then he collapsed.

  "But he's dying!" Becka said, remembering.

  "Oh, that's right," Harmony said.

  "But we can fix it," Rhythm concluded.

  Melody went to join them. They linked hands, and sang and played, and a bottle appeared. Melody caught it and offered it to the man. "Drink this."

  "What is it?" he asked weakly.

  "The antidote," Harmony said.

  "We conjured it," Rhythm concluded.

  Anomy tried to take the bottle, but was too weak, so the three princesses got down beside him, lifted him up, and poured the medicine into his mouth.

  The effect was immediate. Strength returned, and Anomy sat up with their help. "I feel much better."

  "It's strong medicine," Melody said.

  He glanced around at them. Harmony was closely supporting his left shoulder, Rhythm his fight shoulder, and Melody his head. He was still half buried in princesses. "That, too."

  Sim squawked: It was time to go to Princess Ida, to make the return exchange.

  "But how can I go, when I didn't come from there?" Anomy asked.

  "You will exchange with your Self who is there," Melody said.

  "If that were my idea, it would be stupid."

  "Fortunately it's not your idea," Harmony said.

  "It's our idea," Rhythm concluded.

  They gathered together, and Sim carried them to Castle Roogna. Princess Ida was expecting them; she came out to meet them in the orchard, so that Sim would not be inconvenienced. The huge bright bird also became visible. He was amazingly beautiful.

  The exchange was not very dramatic. The five of them stood in a circle, and faded, and then became clear again--in much reduced size. Sim was as big as a man, instead of as big as a grown roc. The three princesses were children, only four years old. Anomy was a boy of five.

  "Who are you?" little Princess Melody asked the boy.

  "Why are you here?" Harmony asked.

  "Are you a prince?" Rhythm concluded.

  "I'm Anomy," he said. "I got switched with my adult Self. I don't know why. Maybe it was one of my bad ideas. I'm not a prince. I'm nobody special."

  Becka realized that none of them remembered the past few days in Xanth. They were really different people; they had not been here.

  "Well, maybe you'll be a prince someday," Melody said with unconscious prophecy.

  "Let's play tag," Harmony said.

  "And you're it," Rhythm cried, slapping Anomy as they all bolted for the nearest pie trees. The boy chased after them, glad to play the game.

  That left Becka and Princess Ida. "I think you understand that you must not speak of the events of the past few days," Ida said.

  "Yes, of course. I guess I'd better go home."

  "You have accomplished your purpose," Ida said.

  Becka paused. "Oh, that's right! I went to the Good Magician to ask what was
my purpose, and he said to effect the welfare of Xanth. Then I had to go help the Dastard, as my Service. I almost forgot how it started."

  "You did help," Ida said. "Without you, this adventure might have had a very different outcome."

  Becka nodded. "Maybe so. I'm glad it worked out, but sort of sad it's all over. It's going to be dull, going home again. Mother really doesn't need a teenager underfoot, especially not a dragon, and of course Father Draco doesn't either. I can't turn girl when I'm with him, because he's ashamed of my human element. There's really no place I can be completely myself."

  "Perhaps that return can be delayed."

  "Delayed? I can't stay on this adventure; it's over, and I can't even talk about it."

  "The Big Princesses appreciated your help, and left a job for you. But it will require some upkeep."

  Becka was blank. "Job? Upkeep?"

  "What they left can't be moved, and needs a hostess, and guarding."

  "I don't understand. They didn't leave anything; they just exchanged and went back to Ptero."

  "There was one more event you were not aware of."

  "There was?" Becka realized that it was possible.

  "If you will change forms, I will show you where it is. Then perhaps you will understand."

  "Uh, okay," Becka said doubtfully. She turned dragon.

  The princess got on her back and gave her directions. Becka walked rapidly there. Whatever it was, it was deep in the jungle. There was no path; she had to forge through almost impenetrable thickets. No one would find his way here by accident.

  They came to a glade. In the glade was an extremely fancy castle.

  "Maidragon!" Becka cried, turning girl as she beheld it.

  "It lacks a hostess to occupy it, and a moat monster to guard it. There is a chamber that must not be opened, and travelers might not understand. The Big Princesses thought perhaps a dragon would do for the outside, and a person for the inside."

  "They want me to stay here?" Becka asked, awed.

  "If you would be so kind. Of course the Little Princesses don't yet know about this, but I'm sure they would like to visit it, and perhaps others would too, like your parents, if we could be sure it was properly maintained. By someone with discretion."

  Becka gazed at the castle, slowly appreciating the significance of the "job." It was really a gift. She had a new home. For both her forms.

 


 

  Piers Anthony, The Dastard

 


 

 
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