She entered the chamber of the Kings--and skidded to a halt, appalled.
"Yes, it is I," Arnolde said. "I, too, have now been taken."
Imbri projected a flickering dreamlet, stammering out her news of the fate of the centaurs. This was worse even than that, since the Horseman was still taking out the Kings as fast as they could be replaced. She had thought the Horseman was with the Mundane army, but evidently he hadn't stayed there long.
"It seems that every time a King shows competence," King Trent said, "the Horseman takes him out. At such time as Xanth enthrones an incompetent King, he will surely be allowed to remain until the enemy is victorious. Meanwhile, Imbri, kindly do us the favor of informing my wife, the Sorceress Iris, that she is now King."
"Queen..." Imbri sent, numbed.
"King," he repeated firmly. "Xanth has no ruling Queens."
"With my apologies for misjudging the location of the Horseman," Arnolde added. "I told Iris to sleep, since there was no present menace to me. Evidently I was mistaken."
Evidently so, Imbri had to agree. She nodded and trotted on out, feeling heavy-hoofed. When would it end?
Chapter 12
King Queen
She reached Castle Roogna, unconscious of the Intervening Journey. The palace staff was sleeping, including Queen Iris.
Imbri approached Queen Iris and sent her a dream: "King Arnolde has been taken; you must assume the Kingship, your Majesty."
"What? Arnolde was quite alert a moment ago!" Iris protested. She lurched to her feet and stumbled to the Kings apartment. "King Centaur, I just had a bad dream. She stopped. Arnolde stood there, staring blankly.
Iris whispered, appalled. "Oh, no, the Horseman got him too"
Imbri sent. "He agreed you must be King now. King Trent said it, too. And I have bad news to report to the King."
Iris leaned against the wall as if feeling faint. She was no young woman, and recent events had not improved her health. Only her iron will to carry on as a Queen could have kept her going. "All my life I have longed to rule Xanth. Now that it is upon me, I dread it. Always before I had the security of knowing that no matter how strong my desire, it would never be fulfilled. Women don't really want all the things they long for. All they really want is to long and be longed for. Oh, whatever will I do, Imbri? I'm too old and set in my ways to handle a dream turned so horribly real!"
"You will fight the Mundanes, King Iris," Imbri sent, feeling sympathy for the woman's predicament.
The King's feminine visage hardened. "How right you are, mare! If there's one thing I am good at, it is tormenting men. Those Mundanes will rue the day they invaded Xanth! And the Horseman--when I find him--"
"Stay away from him, your Majesty!" Imbri pleaded. "Until we unriddle the secret avenue of his power, no King dare approach him."
"But I don't need to do it physically! I can use my illusion on him."
Imbri was doubtful, but let that aspect rest. "He may be close to Castle Roogna," she sent. "We thought he was up in Goblin Land..."
"He was in Goblin Land!" King Iris cried. "I saw him myself only yesterday!"
"But he must have been here to take out King Arnolde."
"Then he found a way to travel quickly. He's probably back with his army by now. I can verify that soon enough." She took a deep breath. "Meanwhile, let's have your full report on the war situation. If I am to do this job, I'll do it properly. After it is over, I shall be womanishly weak, my foolish hunger for power having been expiated, but I can't afford that at the moment."
Imbri gave the report to her, then retired to the garden pasture on the King's order and grazed and rested. She liked running all over Xanth, but it did fatigue her, and she wished it wasn't always because of a new crisis.
In the morning King Iris had her program ready. She had devised a very large array of illusory monsters, which she set in ambush within the dragons' terrain, awaiting the Mundanes' southward progress. The real dragons took one look at the illusions and retreated to their burrows, wanting none of it.
In midmorning the Punic army appeared, still two hundred strong, marching in disciplined formations. Imbri saw that a number of the soldiers were ones who had not participated in the battle with the centaurs; apparently about fifty had held back or been on boulder-rolling duty; these had filled in for the additional fifty the centaurs had wiped out in the final hand-to-hand struggle. An army of three hundred fifty--slightly larger than the Xanth intelligence estimate had thought--had been reduced to somewhat better than half its original size in the course of that single encounter. If only she, Imbri, had been alert to the ambush, so that all fifty centaurs could have fought effectively! But major errors were the basic stuff of war.
King Iris had somehow gotten the magic mirror to work again, perhaps by enhancing its illusion with her own, and focused it on the Mundane army, so Imbri and the others were able to watch the next engagement. An audience was very important for Iris; her sorcery of illusion operated only for the perceiver.
First to pounce were two braces of sphinxes. Each had the head and breast of a man or woman, the body and tail of a lion, and the wings of a giant bird. The females were five times the height of a normal man, the males larger. All four monsters spread their wings as they leaped into the air and uttered harsh screams of aggression.
The Mundanes scattered, understandably. A number of them charged into the bordering zone of Air and were blown away by the perpetual winds there. Some took refuge in the burrow of a local dragon; there was a loud gulping sound, followed by the smacking of lips and a satisfied plume of smoke. Then there was a windy burp, and pieces of Mundane armor flew out of the burrow. Most of the remaining soldiers simply backed up, shields elevated, awaiting the onslaught. They certainly weren't cowards.
The sphinxes sheered off as if deciding the odds were not proper. Of course the real reason was that the illusion would lose effect if the Mundanes ascertained its nature. No illusion could harm a person directly; he had to hurt himself by his reaction to it. If the sphinxes charged through the soldiers and revealed themselves as nothing, the game would be over.
After the sphinxes came the big birds, the rocs. The sky darkened as six of these monsters glided down, casting monstrous shadows. The two remaining Mundane elephants spooked and fled headlong back north, trumpeting in terror; they knew the sort of prey rocs liked to carry off. That set off most of the remaining horses, who stampeded north, too. It would be long before many of these were recovered, if any could be rounded up unscathed.
"Now that's the way illusion should operate," Queen Irene murmured appreciatively. "They'll make slower progress with most of their animals gone."
Each roc held a big bag, and as they passed over the Mundanes they dropped these bags. The bags burst as they struck the ground, releasing yellow vapor that looked poisonous. Bushes and trees within its ambience seemed to shrivel and wilt and turn black, and phantom figures in the likeness of Mundanes gagged and staggered and fell in twisted fashion to the ground.
Imbri made a whinny of admiration for the sheer versatility of the King's performance; she would have been terrified if she faced that apparent threat. She heard someone cough, as if breathing the awful gas. If the illusion had that effect on these viewers, who knew it for what it was and who were not even in it, how much worse it must be for the superstitious Mundanes in the thick of it! Maybe it was possible after all, to wipe out the enemy without touching it physically.
The Punics reeled back, afraid to let the yellow vapor overtake them. Their leader came forward--the Horseman, riding a fine brown horse. Naturally that man had prevented his steed from spooking. Imbri was startled; this meant he was with this army and not lurking around Castle Roogna. How had he traveled so fast? He had to have magical means--a carpet, perhaps, or some renegade person of Xanth who enabled him to do it. Someone who could make him fly--but that did not seem likely. The mystery deepened unpleasantly.
The Horseman yelled at the troops, then strode
forward into the fog. It did not hurt him. They rallied and stood up to it--and of course it did not hurt them either. The bluff had been called.
After that, the Mundanes ignored the splendid illusions King Iris threw at them. They marched south, toward the Gap Chasm, and it seemed nothing she could do would stop them. But Imbri knew the King wasn't finished. "There's more than one type of illusion," Iris said grimly.
By late afternoon the Punic army was approaching the Gap. It was making excellent time, because no creature of Xanth opposed it and the Horseman obviously had mapped out a good route. But King Iris made the Chasm appear to be farther south than it was. Then she sent a herd of raindeer trotting across the spot where the real Chasm had been blocked out, bringing a small rainstorm with them. Illusion worked both ways: to make something nonexistent take form, and to make something that was there disappear. This combination was marvelously effective. Little bolts of lightning speared out from the rainstorm, and there were boomlets of thunder. Iris was a real artist in her fashion. One might disbelieve the storm--but overlook the nonexistence of the ground it rained on. Water from that storm was coursing over that ground, beginning to flood it. There were even reflections in that water.
The Mundanes, jaded by the displays of the day, charged past the nonexistent deer, right on into the nonexistent storm, across the nonexistent ground--and fell, screaming, into the very real Gap Chasm. The Horseman had forgotten about it, naturally enough, and the Mundanes had never known of it.
The Horseman quickly called a halt and regrouped the Mundanes--but he had lost another thirty men. He was down to a hundred and fifty now, and obviously not at all pleased. He reined his horse before the illusion and shook his braceleted fist.
Imbri was privately glad to see the man had not caught the day horse. He must have pre-empted this one from a lesser officer. Could he have ridden the brown horse to Castle Roogna and back in the night? It seemed unlikely; the horse was too fresh. But since the Mundanes had retained a number of horses, before the Queen spooked them away, he certainly might have used one of those for his purpose, though the best routes for hoofed creatures were not necessarily the shortest ones and certainly not the safest. The best shortcuts were ones only something like a man could take. So there still seemed to be no perfect answer. Yet the major mystery was not how he traveled, but how to abate the enchantment on the six Kings.
"Is that so, you Mundane oaf!" King Iris demanded, in response to the Horseman's fist-shaking gesture. "You can't threaten me, horsehead! I'll use my illusion to chip away your entire army before it reaches Castle Roogna!" And she formed the image of a raspberry bush, which made a rude noise at him.
Contemptuously, the Horseman guided his horse right through the illusion--and smacked into the ironwood tree that Iris had covered up by the raspberry. His horse stumbled, and the Horseman was thrown headlong. He took a rolling breakfall in the dirt and came to rest unhurt but disheveled and furious.
"Oh, Mother, that wasn't nice!" Irene chortled.
King Iris formed the image of her own face there before the fallen man, smirking at him. She could see him through the eyes of her illusion.
The Horseman saw her. He made a swooping gesture with his two hands--and suddenly the illusion vanished.
Queen Irene glanced at her mother, alarmed. "What's the--" Then she screamed.
Now it was evident to them all: King Iris had taunted the dread enemy--and had been taken by his magic.
After a shocked pause, Imbri sent a dreamlet to the girl:
"What is your program. King Irene?"
Irene spluttered. "I'm not--I can't--"
"King Arnolde decreed you a Sorceress, therefore a Magician, therefore in the line of succession, and he named you to be the eighth King of Xanth. You must now assume the office and carry on during this crisis. Xanth needs you, your Majesty. At least we know your mother is safe in the gourd."
The girl's wavering chin firmed. "Yes, she is with my father now, perhaps for the first time. As long as we protect her body. But the moment those Mundanes get inside this castle, all is lost. They will slay the bodies of our Kings, and then our people will be forever in the gourd, or worse. Our situation is desperate, for we no longer have magic that can strike down the enemy from a distance." She paused, glancing around the room. "Who will be King after me?"
"Humfrey said there would be ten Kings during this siege," Imbri reminded her. "But you are the last Magician. We can't let the Horseman claim the throne by default. I think you'll have to designate your successor from among the lesser talents, just in case."
King Irene nodded. She turned herself about, surveying the people in the room a second time. Chameleon was helping Crombie the old soldier move King Iris to the chamber where the six previous Kings were kept; she would be the seventh.
"Chameleon," Irene said.
The woman paused. Imbri had to do another mental adjustment, for Chameleon was now far removed from her prettiness of the past. It would have been unkind to call her ugly, but that was the direction in which she was going. "Yes, your Majesty?" Even her words had harshened.
"You will be King Number Nine," Irene said clearly.
"What?" Chameleon used her free hand to brush a straggle of hair back from an ear that should have remained covered.
"You are the mother of a King and the wife of a King and you're just coming into your smart phase. We are out of Magicians; now we have to go with intelligence. King Arnolde showed what could be done with intelligence; he clarified the line of succession and located the lost Kings. He did more to help Xanth than any magic could have done.
You will be smarter yet. Maybe you will be able to solve the riddle of the Horseman before--" She shrugged.
"Before he becomes the tenth King," Chameleon said. She was much faster to pick up on other people's thoughts now, after her initial surprise at being designated a prospective King.
Imbri found this steady progression a remarkable thing. She knew Chameleon was the same woman, but most of the identifying traits of the one she had carried north to spy on the Mundanes were now gone. She liked the other Chameleon better.
Tandy went to take Chameleon's place, helping Crombie conduct the former female King to the resting chamber. Chameleon returned to talk with Irene. "I see your logic," Chameleon said. "I am no Sorceress, and there are many people in Xanth with stronger magic than mine, but I believe you are correct. What we most require is not magic, but intelligence--and that, for a time, I can provide." She smiled lopsidedly, knowing better than anyone that if she retained the office of King too long, Xanth would be in an extremely sad state. She would have to wrap up the job during the nadir of her appearance, for there was no intellect to match hers then. "I shall see that the Horseman is not the tenth King, whatever else I do or do not accomplish." She did not bother to argue the unlikelihood of Irene's getting taken; they both knew that this was inevitable as the prophesied chain continued to its end. "But in case you face the Horseman directly. King Irene--"
Irene's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I follow your implication."
"You are a lovely young woman. He might attempt to legitimize his takeover by taking you in another fashion."
Irene flushed. "I'd kill him!" Then she tilted her head, reconsidering slightly. "I'll kill him anyway, if I get the chance. I owe him for my father, my mother, my husband--"
Again Chameleon smiled. How different this expression was from the one her lovely version had shown. This was a cold, calculating, awful thing. "I am not questioning your personal loyalty to Xanth. I am merely suggesting that it might occur to him to try. It is the kind of thing that occurs to men when they encounter young women of your description. If you could discipline yourself enough to seem to accept his interest, at least until you fathomed his secret--"
Slowly Irene's smile matched that of the older woman. The strangest thing was that it was no prettier on Irene's face than on Chameleon's. Imbri saw, and understood, and was repelled. Human women well knew th
e advantage they had over human men and used it ruthlessly. What an ugly way to try to save Xanth! Yet if it came to that extreme, was there any better way? What was justified in war? Imbri wasn't sure. Maybe there was no proper answer to this type of question.
Now King Irene went to work organizing her campaign. The magic mirror showed the Mundanes camping for the night; at least there were several campfires. The rest was darkness. If the Punics resumed their march at dawn, it would take them at least two hours to reach the invisible bridge--obviously the Horseman knew about it--and longer to get to Castle Roogna.
Irene turned to Imbri. "The bridge--could you kick that out tonight?"
"I could try," Imbri sent. "But I would run the risk of falling into the Gap, since I can't use a lever or an axe, and would have to stand on the bridge in material form to kick at its supports. This sort of work really requires human bands and tools." It galled her to admit that there was something a human folk person was better at than an equine person, but in this very limited respect it was so.
"I will go with you," Chameleon said. "I'm not strong, but I'm good at that sort of challenge. I have a sharp knife that should cut through the strands."
"But--" King Irene protested.
"There is no danger from the Mundanes by night," Chameleon reminded her. "And none from Xanth monsters when I'm on the enchanted path or on the night mare. If we can take down that bridge quickly, the Nextwave will be stalled at least another day, navigating the Chasm, and we shall be much better able to defend Castle Roogna."
"But if I should be taken during your absence--"
"I'll return promptly. I promise."
The girl spread her hands. "You are correct, of course. I'm afraid to be alone with this responsibility, but that's a luxury I can't afford. Unlike my mother, I never even imagined being King. I shall set up a collection of plants to defend this castle, but I won't make them grow until you are safely back inside."