Five Portraits (5 page)

“Oh!” Astrid exclaimed, surprised, and half a bulb flashed over her head.

“Our appreciation surprises you?” Truman asked.

“Speaking of Art and his Portraits reminded me,” Astrid said. “MareAnn said something about portraits that didn't mean anything to me at the time, but now it is beginning to.”

“Portraits?” Ginger asked.

“MareAnn said that the Good Magician was in half a dither because though the Book of Lost Answers had been reassembled—I don't know what that means, but I think it's a sort of companion to the Book of Answers that is the huge musty tome he constantly pores over—there was an Answer left over and he didn't know what to do with it.”

“Obviously it belongs in the Book of Answers, since it's not lost,” Pewter said.

“Apparently not,” Astrid said. “The Book of Answers also has the Questions, but this one has no attached question. So it is the Question that is lost. That confuses, befuddles, and perplexes him. So he's grumpy, and that annoys the Wives, who find him difficult enough to deal with already. That's why they swap out every month, getting time to recover from his moods. They need to find the Question so that things can settle down to the normally irritating routine.”

“What is the Answer?” Ginger asked.

“Five Portraits.”

“Five Portraits?”

“Yes. That's all. I just realized that there are five beautiful women in our party, and Art means to paint them all when there is pausing time. So those could be the Answer.”

“And what is the Question?” Truman asked.

“I don't know. But doesn't having the Answer evoke the Question, in human events? It must be hovering close by.”

The several assembled folk circled a somewhat haphazard glance. If the Question was near, they did not perceive it.

“We shall keep an eye out for a lost Question,” Tiara said. “With luck we'll know it when we see it.”

It seemed that would have to do.

“Got it,” Pewter said, gratified.

“The Question?” Astrid asked.

“The lock. I have nulled it.” And with that he swung the barred gate open.

“Oh, we could kiss you!” Ginger said as the goblin girls stepped out.

“Kindly desist with your threats,” Pewter said. But he was too late; the three pretty girls kissed him on both ears and his nose.

“On with the exchange,” Truman said. “Then at last we can end the truce, which is becoming burdensome.”

“That's right,” Ginger said. “You trolls can't do a thing to us as long as the truce holds.” Then the three kissed the three trolls, who were helpless to resist, all over their faces, severely denting their ugliness. Ginger even had the temerity to kiss Truman directly on the mouth. A truce was a fearsomely powerful force.

The weird thing was, neither Pewter nor the trolls seemed really to mind.

Chapter 3:
Fornax

The rest of the incident was routine. The trolls carried Astrid and the goblins to the goblin mound, where the troll captives were waiting, bound and chained to stakes. The female troll in particular was disheveled but otherwise seemingly undamaged, except for her wrathful pride. All were glad to be rescued.

“Thank you especially, Astrid,” Ginger said as the three goblin girls walked to the mound. “We owe our miraculous rescue to you. I never even dreamed that my freedom or my life would rest on the goodwill of a basilisk.”

“You're welcome,” Astrid said, moderately embarrassed.

“I doubt we'll ever meet again, but if we do, I will remember.”

“So will I,” Truman said, not in a threatening manner. “I'm glad we were able to come to terms instead of combat. It gave us both gains instead of losses.” He looked at his watch, which surprised Astrid because she hadn't known that trolls had watches. “I would offer you a lift back to your companions, but our purpose has been accomplished and the truce is perilously close to expiration. It would not be safe.”

“I understand,” Astrid said. “I will make my own way back.”

“We will go pick up Truculent's body. There's no point in wasting perfectly good meat.”

“No point,” Astrid agreed. After all, Truculent had planned to eat
her
. Not that he would have found her edible; he would have died of poisoning. Still, his fate was deserved.

Then the six trolls forged away through the brush and forest. Astrid efficiently stripped, evoking crude wolf whistles from the goblin males, reverted to her natural form, which evoked only dead silence, and scooted sinuously through the other brush and forest toward the cave.

“Good riddance, both!” the goblin chief called after them, honoring the spirit of the occasion.

In due course, Astrid rejoined the others and resumed human form, putting on her clothing so that Ease could stop trying to freak. Then the group of them made their way back to their original campsite. It had been a busy morning.

She settled down in the tent she shared with Art, who was interested in two things, the other being his painting. She was happy to accommodate him, and soon put him to sleep in the normal manner. She had feared that she could never have a normal human relationship with a man, but with him it was possible, and she loved it. Her new life seemed complete.

Then Kandy got a message from the Demoness Fornax. That reminded Astrid how the Demoness had wanted Kandy to be her intermediary in the Land of Xanth, because Fornax associated with antimatter and could not touch any normal matter without both going up in mutual annihilation. Kandy had been doubtful, but made the deal instantly when Astrid was falling to her likely death, to save Astrid. She had been a true friend in the crisis. Now she was serving that role for Fornax.

Then Kandy looked at Astrid. “I wonder.”

“Have I made an error in my costume?” Astrid asked.

“No, not at all. Something has come up.”

“You heard from Fornax,” Astrid agreed. “I understand.”

“This time it was different. This is awkward.”

“Awkward?”

“The Demoness has observed how you and I became friends, and how we both seem happier for it.”

Astrid felt a hot chill. That was the worst kind. “She resents our friendship?”

“No. The opposite.”

“I am not following this.”

“Fornax asked me to be her friend.”

“Well, you are a food friend, and you did agree to represent her in Xanth.”

“Yes. That's the problem. My association with her is business. I fear that a friendship with her would be a conflict of interest. I'm supposed to represent her objectively. I can't let any possible distortion prejudice me, because I am dealing with mind-bendingly powerful Demons who insist on absolute clinical neutrality. So I had to tell her no.”

Astrid nodded. “That seems right.”

“But I felt bad about it. Remember, Fornax enabled me to save you from death in the Gap Chasm. I feel I sort of owe her, even though what I'm doing for her now is payment for that. So I looked for an alternative. For someone else to possibly be her friend.”

“That's sensible,” Astrid agreed.

“You.”

The pause was so significant that it almost knocked Astrid down. “Um—”

“Astrid, I'm your friend, and I would not do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. But it seems to me that you could make her a better friend than I could, because you know about isolation. You could understand her, to a degree I could not.”

“But she's a Demoness! They have no interest in mortals except as devices for their nefarious bets.”

“That's what I thought. Yet she came to me. You saw what you were missing and decided to join the human society, difficult as that was for you. Fornax believes she is missing something, so she is seeking it, just as you did. There's a similar motive, even if you are quite different beings. Won't you at least consider it?”

Kandy was her closest friend. Kandy had sacrificed her power of decision to save Astrid's life. What could she do? “I will consider it.”

“Thank you,” Kandy said with evident relief. “You are not obliged to agree, just to give her a fair chance.”

“I should talk with her. How do I meet her?”

“Just say her name. She will hear you.”

Astrid shrugged. “Fornax,” she murmured.

A woman appeared. She was the exact opposite of Astrid, with dark skin, light blond hair, and a dark dress with translucent sequins. This had to be Fornax, assuming a reversed likeness. “Take my hand,” she said.

Astrid took her hand.

Then they were flying up off the ground, above the trees, and across the terrain of Xanth, spread out beneath them like a patchwork quilt. Then higher, until the land below assumed the shape of a peninsula embraced by the sea. Then higher yet, until they reached the crescent moon. They landed within the curve of it, where there was a landscape made of honey.

“No newly married couples are using the honeymoon at the moment, so we can borrow it,” Fornax said.

Bemused, Astrid could think of only a stupid question. “How can we breathe here?”

“With magic, anything is possible. We can breathe anywhere in the universe, and be comfortable.”

“And you—aren't you the Demoness of antimatter? Whose very touch makes everything explode in total conversion of mass to energy? How can we be touching?”

“This is true. I dare not touch any normal matter. My form is a semblance assumed for convenience, crafted of local substance, a simulacrum, governed by my mind. You and I are not actually touching. Usually I just make an illusion, as that's the easiest and safest magic, but I needed to convey you here.”

“Kandy said you asked her to be your friend, and she turned you down.”

“She has reason. She has to be objective.”

“So she asked me to consider it.”

“Yes.”

“I'm a basilisk! A poisonous lizard. My very nearness can kill.”

“Yes. Your situation is not as devastating as mine, but there is a parallel.”

Astrid contemplated the semblance of the Demoness. There was indeed a parallel. “You're a Demoness! Your power compared to mine is like a galaxy versus a gnat. Why should you care half an iota about my friendship?”

“Your analogy minimizes the case,” Fornax said candidly. “But you have a soul, and I have none. On that basis we can associate as equals. If you are interested.”

Astrid remembered what the Good Magician had said about the value of a soul. Now Fornax was confirming it, to a degree. He had said that souls were immeasurably precious, at least to those who had them. That was curious. If no one who lacked a soul wanted one, what was the point? “I am interested, but confused,” Astrid said candidly. “I came by my soul by accident, and didn't even know it for some time, and have hardly been aware of it since. Why does it interest you?”

“A soul enables a person to be decent, as you are. To have friends, as you do. To love, as you do. To have larger aspirations, as you do. Demons have none of these things.”

“And Demon's don't value souls,” Astrid said. “Why would you?”

“That may be complicated to explain. Before you acquired your soul, by whatever means, did you care about such things?”

“No. I realize now that my caring dated from my acquisition of the soul.”

“Are you sure?”

Astrid reconsidered. “No. I think I was a bit jealous of the way humans enjoyed each other's company. No cockatrice or basilisk ever wanted company.”

“You must have had the potential to handle a soul. That soul may even have sought you out, knowing you would do better by it than some freak in the dream realm.”

“Souls have wills of their own?”

“They may. It is a reasonable conjecture.”

“And you have the potential to handle a soul!” Astrid said, seeing it. “So you are interested.”

“That may be the case.”

“Maybe the night mares have another soul you could take.”

“They do not. They tightened up their procedures after that mishap.”

“You must have something in mind.”

“I do. But a soul normally cannot be taken. It must be given, and not entirely.”

“I am not following this.”

“There was a character named Jumper Spider who was given human form and associated closely with several human women,” Fornax said. “In fact two of them seduced him, in friendship. That association eventually provided him with a soul, a composite of portions of his human friends so that he became a souled creature. That in turn enabled him to marry the Demoness Eris, called by some the Goddess of Discord, and when she shared his soul, as happens in marriage, she became like the person she had been emulating. That is, nice. She also became the friend of Jumper's friend Wenda Woodwife. She is much more satisfied with her present existence than she was in the past. Were I to associate closely enough with a souled person, as she did, I might pick up at least a portion of a soul.”

“That's why you want a friend!” Astrid said. “So her soul might rub off on you.”

“Part of it, at any rate,” the Demoness agreed. “Enough, perhaps, to provide me with what I crave.”

“What do you crave?”

“The abatement of my loneliness.”

“You are lonely? You have unimaginable power! How can you be lonely?”

Fornax laughed. “Were you not lonely at the beginning of your life?”

Astrid thought back again. “I believe I was, though I did not realize it at the time. Basilisks don't have friends.”

“Neither do soulless Demons.”

“And you, associated with antimatter, can't get close to anyone else anyway. That must be very difficult.”

“It is,” Fornax agreed. “Touch my hand, and it will allow some of my feeling to show.”

Curious, Astrid took her hand again.

Suddenly she felt the utter loneliness not of hours or days or years or centuries, but of billennia: maybe twelve billion years. It was a deep and awful gulf extending beyond her imagination.

“Wake,” Fornax said.

Astrid snapped out of her trance. “What happened?”

“You freaked out.”

“But only men freak out when they glimpse a woman's panties.”

“Men are relatively superficial, compared to women, being really interested in only one thing. There are many ways to freak. Overwhelming feeling is one.”

The Demoness was a creature in need of more than Astrid could provide. But at least she could help. She remembered that she was destined to have three friends, each more important than the previous ones. This seemed to be the realization of that. “I fear it is but a grain of sand in a mountain, but I will try to be your friend.”

“Thank you.” Perhaps there was a tear in Fornax's eye.

“How do we proceed? I am not well experienced in friendship.”

“I thought you would know, because you already have a friend in Kandy. I have never had a friend.”

“I do have a friend in Kandy,” Astrid agreed thoughtfully. “And another in MareAnn. But they led the way. They knew what to do. I am still learning.”

“Then we have a problem.”

“Maybe we need advice. I can ask Kandy.”

“No. Her conflict of interest applies to this. Anyway, she has enough to occupy her at the moment.”

“Enough?”

“She is my representative in Xanth. She is now negotiating a Demon Wager.”

Astrid was taken aback. “I thought Demons negotiated their own terms.”

“Not always. The other Demons don't like dealing with me directly, so they are dealing with my representative. She has authority to speak for me on this particular matter, though she is not pleased.”

“Not pleased?”

“She doesn't like the subject.”

“Does the subject matter? She just needs to be objective.”

“She is finding that difficult.”

Astrid hesitated. “She is my friend, and I am concerned. Why should she find it hard to be objective?”

“Because the subject is the Land of Xanth, and she has a certain interest in it.”

“I don't want to intrude in what is not my business, but I think it would help my understanding if I knew more about this.”

“If we are to be friends, my business becomes your business, and your business mine, as I understand it. So I will tell you. The subject is the destruction of the Land of Xanth.”

Astrid was taken even further aback. “As it happens, I too have an interest, being another denizen of Xanth.”

“You need not be concerned. It doesn't happen until fifty years hence.”

“That helps. But I may live to see it, so it remains my concern. What is to happen to Xanth?”

“It will be invaded by an alternate reality that is slightly more advanced. Rather than suffer themselves to be displaced, the citizens will go for mutual destruction. Thus Xanth will end.”