xanth 40 - isis orb (2 page)

“Hapless.”

“It fits you.”

For some reason this assessment did not thrill him. “I really don’t think—I mean the box was telling me no.”

“Let me see that box.”

He fished in his pack and brought it out. Cylla took it, opened it, and peered inside. “Oh, that’s wrong, all right.”

“The picture?”

“The lipstick.” She brought it out. It seemed the picture had been replaced to fit a new situation. “Totally wrong.”

“What’s lipstick?”

“Oh, you have lived a sheltered life, haven’t you! It’s color a girl puts on her mouth to make it more attractive.”

“Oh. What’s wrong with this?”

She grimaced. “I’ll show you.” She returned the box to him, then paused to rub the end of the stick across her mouth. When she dropped her hand away her lips looked like literal sticks. “How’d you like to kiss that?”

The notion was repelling. “You’re right,” Hapless agreed. “It’s wrong. I’d hate to kiss that.”

Cylla brought out a hankie and vigorously rubbed her mouth off. Her normal lips returned. She put her face close to his. “How about these?”

“Much better.”

“Let me make sure.” Suddenly she was kissing him.

Caught again by surprise, all he could do was float on the moment. No girl had ever kissed like that before. In fact, no girl had kissed him at all. She certainly knew how to do it.

She ended the kiss. “Was that all right?”

His head was still spinning. “Uh—”

“I mean, there was no wood remaining? No taste of bark?”

Oh. “None at all,” he agreed. “You’re perfect.”

“Good.” She turned him loose and they resumed walking.

He remained unsettled. The kiss had been really nice, and she seemed good enough. So why had her picture warned him away? “Uh, the box, your picture—if it’s right about what’s wrong—”

“I’m wondering about that too. Obviously it feels we’re not right for each other. It must know something we don’t.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But that’s a romantic thing. It doesn’t mean we can’t travel together.”

“I guess,” he agreed with a tinge of regret.

“I heard that tinge. That’s sweet.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“So let’s figure this out. Maybe our talents don’t mesh. What’s yours?”

“I can conjure any musical instrument. But I can’t play any of them. It’s frustrating.”

“Conjure one.”

“What would you like?”

“A flute.”

Hapless focused and conjured a flute. It appeared in his hand. He gave it to her. She played it, and a beautiful melody sounded.

She paused. “That’s the best I ever played! It’s a fine instrument.”

“Not for me.”

“You play it.” She handed it back to him.

Hapless put it to his mouth and blew. A sour squawk emerged, reminiscent of a noise that made stained glass break into colored fragments and tumble into a garbage pit.

“Stop! You made your point. May I keep the flute?”

“Sure. But it will fade out after a day or so. They don’t last.”

“Still, it’s a good talent. You could conjure another when the first faded.”

“Yes. But it doesn’t do
me
any good. I guess that’s why I’m going to see the Good Magician. Maybe he has an Answer.”

“If you could play as well as you conjure, you’d be a worthwhile man.”

“But as it is, I’m not.”

“Very well,” she said briskly. “My turn. My talent is to make others hallucinate. That’s probably why your box warned you against me.”

“Hallucinate? I don’t think I’ve been doing that. Except maybe when you kissed me.”

“No, that was normal euphoria. Boys do that when girls smooch them, just as they freak out when they see girls’ panties. It’s general minor magic. Here’s what it’s like when I try.” She took his hand.

He found himself standing in a forest of tree trunks with big wooden faces. “Get out of here, intruder!” one cried windily.

He tried to oblige, turning about. But behind him was a hungry-looking red dragon. He barely jumped back in time to avoid its snapping jaws. But then a tree branch caught him and hauled him in. It was a tangle tree!

“Ghaaa!” he cried as the vision ended.

“That’s why my dates don’t usually work out well,” Cylla said. They were back in the real world. “It is obvious that I control the relationship, and they don’t like that. So with you I was careful not to show it, until now, as a demonstration.”

“I appreciate that,” he said somewhat breathlessly. “But as long as you keep it under control, what’s the problem?”

“You don’t feel the need to dominate a woman?”

“I don’t. It should be an equal partnership.”

“I certainly agree, even if my other boyfriends didn’t. Then there must be some other reason for the warning.”

“There must be,” he agreed, almost disappointed.

“I heard that tinge again. You’re nice.”

“Maybe the warning was wrong?” he suggested, this time with a tinge of hope that he knew she picked up on.

“I doubt it. But maybe we can find out tonight, when we camp.”

He wasn’t sure what she was hinting, but it strongly appealed. Still, he was uncertain, because of the box’s warning against her. “Um, do you want to try the box again?”

She considered briefly. “Why not? So far it seems to have one wrong thing and one right thing.”

He handed it to her, and she opened it and peered inside. “Well, now!”

“What is it?”

“A panty.” She lifted it out: a limp pink cloth.

“But I’m not freaking out.”

“Silly, you don’t freak from an empty panty. It has to be fully displayed to be effective.”

Oh. “That’s wrong for you?”

“Of course not. Panties are a girl’s best friend.”

“Then why is it in there?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Maybe the box is addled. Here, I’ll try it on. Mine are getting worn anyway, while this one is fresh. Close your eyes.”

Hapless obligingly closed his eyes.

After a generous moment she spoke again. “Now look.”

He opened his eyes—and promptly lost consciousness.

Her snapping fingers woke him from his trance. “Sorry about that. I simply had to test them. They work.”

Oh. She had flashed him with the displayed panty, and he had freaked out. “So it’s not wrong for you.”

“Obviously. Just as I’m not wrong for you. That box has missed twice now.”

That was curious, as the Good Magician had a reputation for being always right, if frustratingly obscure. Why would he have an erratic box?

Cylla returned the box to him, and he returned it to his pack. They walked on.

They encountered a man going the other way. “Hi!” he said.

“Lo,” Cylla replied. “What’s your talent?”

“To carve air into a solid mass. Like this.” He moved his hands as if slicing something invisible, then held them forth as if presenting something.

Curious, Hapless put his hands out. There was a block of solid air, invisible but definitely there. “Nice,” he said, impressed.

“We’re moving on,” Cylla said abruptly.

Hapless returned the block of air and ran to catch up with her. “Why did you go? It’s a perfectly respectable talent.”

“He’s an airhead.”

Was that a pun? It certainly did not seem fair. Hapless decided not to challenge it.

They crossed a meadow filled with flowers. Bees were servicing them. But one bee flew directly toward the two of them.

“Get away!” Cylla cried, batting at it. Discouraged, the bee departed.

“Why did you do that?” Hapless asked. “It wasn’t threatening us.”

“It was a Wanna Bee. Anyone stung by one of those wants to be something else.”

Oh. She evidently knew her local wildlife.

As night approached, they came to a campsite. The enchanted paths were good that way, providing rest areas where needed. The idea was that travelers were safe on such paths, from danger, hunger, or serious inconvenience. They could sleep in comfort, wash in fresh water, and meet other friendly folk along the way. This greatly facilitated travel.

Sure enough, there was a good-sized pond, a number of pie plants with freshly ripening pies, milkweeds with pods of fresh milk, and pillow bushes near a covered shelter. Just about everything travelers needed.

They came to the shelter. “Um, about privacy,” Hapless said. “We can take turns bathing in the pond.”

“We can bathe together.”

“But I might get a, um—”

“This is a problem?”

“Well, um—” He knew he was blushing.

“Hapless, we may be wrong for each other as life-mates, but we can enjoy ourselves as we travel. We can do or not do whatever we want. We are free.”

Did she mean what he hardly dared think she meant?

“Hello, travelers!”

They looked at each other. They were not alone. That complicated things.

The fellow traveler turned out to be an ordinary looking young man. “Why don’t you two get acquainted while I wash up,” Cylla suggested somewhat sourly.

“Okay.” He would take the stranger’s attention while she had some privacy after all. It was amazing what a change a third person made.

Hapless addressed the traveler. “Hello. I am Hapless, on the way to see the Good Magician, as is my companion Cylla. My talent is conjuring musical instruments, though I can’t play them.”

“I am Eli, and my talent is also my curse.”

“Curse?”

“My powers change every day of the week. On Sun-Day I feel burnt out but can produce light and even start a fire. Monday, which happens to be today, I have no talent but also no curse. Two’s Day I see two of everything, but whatever I do is twice as effective. Wetness Day I am constantly rained on, but can control local wet weather. Thirst Day I’m thirsty but can quench anyone else’s thirst, literally or figuratively. Fry Day I can cook anything into something edible, but it’s so greasy it can be sickening. Saturn Day I am surrounded by rings of dust that separate me from others but I can also make them spin at high velocity to use as a weapon or defensive shield. Normally folk don’t like to travel with me. But I happen to be going to the same place you are, in the hope that the Good Magician can provide me with a good woman who can handle my changes.”

Hapless digested that. This man had a daunting array of magic that might indeed make it awkward to associate with him for any length of time. But if he was going their way, it would not be easy to separate from him.

“Yes, that’s the way with most folk,” Eli said, as if reading his thoughts.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Cylla asked from the entrance. She was clean with her hair loose so it could dry.

“My, what a vision!” Eli said, jumping up to embrace her.

“Um, I wouldn’t,” Hapless warned, too late.

Eli rocked back, staring wildly around. “Monsters! Earthquakes! Volcanoes!” he exclaimed, as if beset by all three at once. That actually might have been the case, in his hallucinations.

“They’re not real!” Hapless shouted. “Just ignore them!”

Then Eli came out of it. “What was that?” he gasped, disheveled.

“Cylla has the power of hallucination,” Hapless explained. “You surprised her and made her react. I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you.”

“The bleep I didn’t,” Cylla snapped. “You had no business pawing me.”

Things were off to a bad start.

“I apologize for being too familiar,” Eli said. “You were just so lovely I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, keep your hands to yourself,” Cylla said, determinedly unmollified.

Hapless tried to change the subject. “Eli has a most interesting talent that is also his curse. It manifests in a different manner each day of the week, except today. Yesterday he was so bright he could start a fire. Tomorrow—” He paused, having lost track.

“Tomorrow I’ll see two of everything,” Eli said. “But I’ll be twice as effective. The day after I’ll get rained on, but will be able to help others quench their thirst.”

“And of course you’re going to see the Good Magician so you can get rid of your curse,” Cylla said.

“Why yes; how did you know?”

“I just knew you were bad luck.”

It occurred to Hapless that Cylla was as annoyed as he was about the addition of a third person to their company. But it really wasn’t Eli’s fault. So he tried to change the subject again. “Let me show you my box. It is supposed to contain a thing that is wrong for the one who opens it. We’re not sure it’s always accurate, though.”

“That sounds interesting. Let’s see it.”

Hapless brought out the box and passed it across. “Just open it. It seems harmless.”

Eli opened the box. “Spectacles?” he asked, lifting them out.

Hapless spread his hands. “Do you have a problem with your vision?”

“No.”

“So you don’t need them. Maybe that’s why they’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” Eli agreed dubiously. “Unless there’s something else about them.” He returned the box and tucked the spectacles into his pocket.

There was a silence that threatened to become awkward. “Let’s see about something to eat,” Hapless suggested. He didn’t mention sleeping arrangements, which were now also a problem.

“Why don’t I just move on,” Eli suggested. “I can see that the two of you don’t want company.”

“But you were here first,” Hapless protested. He really wanted to spend the night alone with Cylla, but fair was fair.

They looked at Cylla. “Oh, stay,” she said with grumpy grace. “We’ll manage.”

The two men went out to forage for pies and milk, while Cylla set things up inside. When they returned, Cylla was just changing dresses, and her panties were showing.

“Snap out of it,” Eli said, snapping his fingers. “We must have returned too soon.”

“I freaked out,” Hapless said ruefully. “But you didn’t?”

“My father was Mundane,” Eli said. “He faded out before he developed magic. He was immune to panties, and I guess I inherited that though I do have magic. Panties are just clothing, to me.”

If Cylla was aware she had been seen, she gave no sign of it. She had a table in place for the food, and they ate the pies.

As dusk closed in, Cylla and Hapless walked around the campsite, admiring its features. “I thought I’d freak him out for an hour so we could tryst,” she murmured. “But he’s immune. Now I
really
don’t like him.”