Yon Ill Wind (19 page)

The glassy screen lighted.  A picture of a man appeared, with a big question mark over his head.  Evidently the malignant machine was confused after being knocked out by the reverse wood.

Nimby glanced at her.  Oh—she had to do the talking.

“Sending,” she said firmly, “We have come to make a deal with you.  You can't change our reality because I have this ball of reverse wood, and if anything happens to me, I'll drop it and the two pieces will fall apart and stop reversing each other and resume reversing you, as they did before.  You will become an unmagical collection of junk. Do you understand?”

The screen blinked.  The question mark faded out.

“We want to obtain the windbreaker,” she continued. “I understand you have it, and we can get it from you if we answer your twenty questions.  Is that correct?”

The screen brightened.  The man figure smiled.  Then the screen split, with the upper section showing an icon of a pretty young woman holding a jacket, and the lower section showing the young woman and a young man in chains.

“If we answer all the questions correctly, we get the windbreaker,” she said, interpreting.  “If we don't, we both become your slaves for life.” She paused, glancing a bit apprehensively at Nimby.  Was he sure—?

But Nimby nodded.  So she took her courage in one trembling hand and proceeded.  “That seems fair.  We agree.  The two of us will consult on each question, and decide on the answer; only when I address you directly, Sending, will it count.  Agreed?”

A smiley face appeared on the screen.

“Very well,” she said briskly, just as if her heart weren't palpating her gizzard.  “Proceed.”

Now print appeared on the screen.  So Sending could print, when he chose to; he wasn't limited to icons and pictures.  FIRST A SAMPLE QUESTION, TO BE SURE WE AGREE ON THE MANNER OF THE QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.  THIS IS FOR DEMONSTRATION PURPOSE ONLY.

“Agreed.” Chlorine suspected that there were rules about such things, and Sending didn't want his prospective victory to be nullified by a technicality.

QUESTION SAMPLE #1, REFERRING TO THE THIRD OF THE MUSE'S HISTORICAL TEXTS OF XANTH:  WHEN MAGICIAN DOR, THEN AGE TWELVE, TRIED TO STOP THE FORGET SPELL'S COUNTDOWN IN THE YEAR 236, IT DID NOT RESPOND.  SINCE IT WAS ABLE TO SPEAK ONLY BY HIS MAGIC, WHICH ENABLED HIM TO, SPEAK TO THE INANIMATE AND HAVE IT ANSWER, WHY DID HE NOT SIMPLY WITHDRAW HIS MAGIC SO THAT IT COULD NO LONGER SPEAK?

Chlorine read the question, and quailed.  She remembered from her centaur history classes (before she flunked out) that Prince Dor had traveled eight hundred years into Xanth's past and detonated the Forget Spell, making the Gap Chasm be forgotten for eight hundred years until the Time of No Magic broke up the enchantment, but the logic of this was beyond even her enhanced intelligence.  If this was typical of the questions to come, she would be doomed before she started.

But Nimby was writing a note.  He gave it to her, and suddenly the answer was clear.  “ 'He did not do that because it would not have been effective,' “ she read.  “ 'The Forget Spell would merely have counted silently, and detonated anyway.  The countdown could not be stopped, once started.' “

The screen went blank for a moment.  Sending had evidently expected her to get it wrong, and was disconcerted.

But in another moment it recovered.  CORRECT.  THAT WAS AN EASY ONE, OF COURSE.  THE REAL QUESTIONS WILL BE MORE DIFFICULT.  ARE YOU PREPARED TO ADDRESS THEM?

Chlorine bit her tongue to get some saliva in her dry mouth, and responded with fake confidence.  “Of course. Let's see a nice challenging one.”

But the machine wouldn't be bluffed.  QUESTION #1:

WHEN MAGICIAN TRENT FIRST ATTEMPTED TO CONQUER XANTH IN THE YEAR 1021, IT WAS SAID THAT HE CHANGED MEN INTO PISH AND LET THEM EXPIRE ON DRY LAND.  HE DENIES IT.  WHAT IS THE TRUTH?

She quailed again, worse.  How could anyone ever know what had happened seventy-five years ago?

But Nimby was writing a note.  She took it and read it aloud, knowing that if it wasn't the correct answer, she would not be able to do any better on her own.  “ 'Magician Trent did transform men into fish, but he did it by a river, where they fell in and swam.  Then he walked away.

But some of the fish, thinking that they were still men, scrambled back onto land and perished.  Magician Trent never saw those ones, so did not know.' “

If Sending was impressed or disconcerted, he did not show it.  His screen flashed the next one.  QUESTION #2:

MAGICIAN BINK'S TALENT IS THAT HE CAN NOT BE HARMED BY MAGIC.  THUS THE GAP DRAGON, BEING A MAGICAL CREATURE, COULD NOT HARM HIM DESPITE MAKING THE EFFORT.  YET HE WAS CHOKED BY CHESTER CENTAUR AND ALMOST SUFFOCATED BY A TANGLE TREE, BOTH OF WHICH ARE MAGICAL CREATURES.  HOW CAN THIS BE SO?

Chlorine was amazed.  “That's Bink's talent?  I always thought he had no magic!”

SO YOU WILL THINK AGAIN, FOR OTHERS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO KNOW.  YOU WILL FORGET THIS QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER AFTER THIS SESSION IS OVER.

Meanwhile Nimby was writing again.  She took the paper and read it:  “ “This is a deceptive question.  You implied a connection that does not necessarily exist.  Bink can not be harmed by magic, but can be harmed by magic creatures if they do not employ magical means.  That is, a dragon could chomp him mechanically, but could not enchant him magically.  His talent does not regard threats or even bruising to be harm, only permanent physical damage.  So there is no conflict.' “

The screen faded for a long instant or short moment, she had set the disreputable device back again.  Rather, Nimby had; her respect for his intellect was verging on awe.  How could a funny dragon know so much?  Sure, it was his talent, but so was the way he changed the two of them into a lovely human couple.  How could he have two magic talents?

Nimby passed her another note.  Only the form changing is magic; the knowledge is inherent in my nature.

Oh.  Of course.  But he was still one supremely remarkable creature!

The next question was on the screen.  QUESTION #3:  THE FORGET SPELL CONTROLLED THE GAP CHASM UNTIL THE TIME OF NO MAGIC IN THE YEAR 1043, SO THAT ONLY THOSE ACTUALLY WITHIN IT COULD REMEMBER IT.  YET WHEN MAGICIAN TRENT RETURNED FROM MUNDANIA IN 1042 HE REMEMBERED IT.  HOW CAN THIS BE?

Chlorine whistled inwardly.  These weren't mere questions of who did what when; they were crafted to require extraordinary comprehension of all Xanth history.  Only the Good Magician Humfrey could possibly know all the answers—and Nimby.  She could almost have suspected that Nimby was the Good Magician, if she hadn't seen them together.  Maybe they were related, and Nimby was performing a service for Humfrey, just as she was.  For the good of Xanth.

The next note came.  “ 'The magic of Xanth has little effect in Mundania,' “ she read, “ 'and Magician Trent had been there twenty years.  It took time for the Forget Spell to reassert itself with him.  In due course he did forget it again.' “

QUESTION #4:  WHEN BINK AND CHAMELEON, IN THE GUISE OF SMART UGLY FANCHON, LEFT XANTH THAT SAME YEAR, THEY WERE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE MUNDANES THEY ENCOUNTERED.  HOW COULD THIS BE, AS MUNDANIAN IS UNINTELLIGIBLE TO XANTHIANS?

She simply read Nimby's answer, because as usual, she had no idea.  “ 'This is another trick question.  Bink and Chameleon never heard Mundanian; they remained in the fringe of Xanth magic, and the Mundanes were automatically talking Xanthian.' “

So it continued.  How could Girard Giant know of Magician Murphy, who had been banished over seven hundred years before Girard was delivered by an exhausted stork?  Because Girard did know some history.  Why did the Ghost Writer write, “Never (such) a cleavage” when he saw luscious Nada Naga, when the Gorgon and Irene and any number of buxom nymphs and centaur fillies had similar figures?  Because the Ghost Writer had not yet encountered those others, and in any event he was speaking hyperbolically, as writers do.  Why didn't the centaurs teach Prince Dolph how to spell?  Because they had tried with his father, Dor, and failed spectacularly.  There had to be some learning ability in the student, or even a centaur couldn't make much of an impression.  Why did Prince Dolph sometimes change form slowly, instead of instantly?

For variety.  Why did Magician Humfrey take Lethe elixir to forget Rose of Roogna for eighty years, but forget everything else in that period too?  Because there was too much of her in their time together; to remember the rest without her would have led to Lethe-nulling paradox.

Chlorine's head was reeling with all this arcane information.  But Nimby had all the answers, no matter how devious the questions, and Sending's efforts were all blocked.

She read off the answers, hardly assimilating their details, until she came to #19.  It wasn't that it was any less devious or difficult, but that she realized that they were reaching the end; this one, and one more, and they would win!  That gave her sudden shakes.

IN ONE OF THE MUSE CLIO'S VOLUMES OF THE HISTORY OF XANTH WE ARE TOLD THAT THE NIGHT MARES ARE CONFINED TO THE LAND OF XANTH.  IN ANOTHER WE LEARN THAT NIGHT MARES ALSO SERVICE MUNDANIA.  HOW CAN THIS BE?

Chlorine dreaded that seemingly innocent query, knowing that it wasn't innocent at all, it was a challenge.  Had the malignant machine caught the Muse herself in an error?

Then how could the question be answered definitively?

Her knees felt like noodles in heating water.

But Nimby never paused.  He wrote his note and gave it to her.  She read it and was delighted with the simplicity and clarity of the answer, so obvious in retrospect.

“ 'Mundania, like Xanth, changes over the years.  Sometimes the borders are closed and the night mares are confined to Xanth; at other times the portal at No Name Key is opened and the mares go through unimpeded.  The Muse notes the situation at the time of that particular volume.

There is no inconsistency when time is taken into account.' “

The screen dimmed.  The surly system had thought he had a winner, and had not.  Only one more question, and it was bound to be the worst.

QUESTION #20:  HUMAN COLONIZATION OF XANTH DATES FROM THE YEAR ZERO, DEFINED BY THE ARRIVAL OF THE FIRST WAVE, 1,096 YEARS AGO.  YET THE SEA HAG IS KNOWN TO BE THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD, HOW CAN THIS BE?

Now Chlorine's knees definitely softened.  She knew of the wicked Sea Hag, who had indeed lived for thousands of years by taking over the bodies of young folk and using them until they were old and worn-out by her awful lifestyle and degraded attitudes.  Where could she have come from, if she was older than human colonization of Xanth?

She couldn't have been Mundane, for Mundanes had no magic; she had to have been delivered in magical Xanth.

She was, despite her haggishness, definitely human.  Could Nimby answer this one?

Nimby could.  She cursed herself for falling into another neat little trap as she read his answer.  Sullen Sending had played it sneaky right to the end.  “ 'The Sea Hag dates not from the First Wave, which signaled the beginning of continuous human occupation of Xanth, but from the first lost human colony of Xanth, circa minus 2200.  That colony faded out three hundred years later, having been careless about love springs, and crossbred with other creatures, forming harpies, merfolk, naga, sphinxes, ogres, goblins, elves, fauns, nymphs, fairies, and other species.

So the Sea Hag is approximately three thousand, two hundred and ninety-six years old, normally simplified as thousands.”

The evil entity's screen turned furious red.  Roils of smoke crossed it.  Lightning jags flickered.  Sending was not a good loser.  But he had lost, and knew it.  TAKE THE WINDBREAKER.  A panel opened in the cave wall behind the screen, revealing a closet where a motley white jacket hung.

“Thank you ever so much,” Chlorine said supersweetly.  “You have been excruciatingly nice.” And of course, the conflagration on the screen just got Worse, as she had hoped.

She stepped up to the closet and took the windbreaker.

It seemed entirely ordinary.  But she knew it wasn't.  It was the key to the solution to Xanth's current crisis.

MAY I ASK ONE QUESTION OF A PERSONAL NATURE?  the screen inquired over its burning background.

Chlorine glanced at Nimby, who shook his head.  “No,” she answered with deep satisfaction, and walked out of the chamber.  She knew the destructive device wanted to know how Nimby knew so many answers, so Sending could nullify that ability if they ever met again.

The cave exit became a blank stone wall.  Sending was changing reality.  “Nu-wA,” Chlorine said, lifting the reverse wood ball she still held in her other hand.  She could drop it and nullify the mangy machine at any time.  And would do so the moment any untoward print or picture started to form on the screen.

The exit reappeared.  They used it, and emerged into the night of Xanth proper.  Chlorine was about to set down the ball, but Nimby shook his head, so she put it in her purse.

Then she donned the windbreaker.  It was very comfortable.

So their part of the mission had been successful.  She wondered how the Mundane family was doing.

Trenita Imp sat beside Karen, because it had turned out that she couldn't see anything from in front, and Karen was thrilled.  David was asleep, but she was wide-awake and bored.  Now that the accommodation spell no longer affected them, she could appreciate just how small the imps were.  Trenita was thirty-seven years old—the same age as Mom—but only nine inches tall.  The seat belt looked monstrous on her, and was surely a heavy weight, but she didn't complain.

As the RV moved down the trollway, right through the increasingly realistic phantasms formed by the thickening madness brought by the ill wind, Karen questioned her companion.  “Do you travel often?”

“No, this is my first time away from my community.”

“But then how do you know the way to Castle Boogie?”

“Castle Roogna,” Trenita said patiently, just like Mom.

“Everyone in Xanth knows where that is.  I have studied centaur maps, and of course, I know the way of enchanted paths.”

“You mean like nobody can attack us on one?”

“Yes, of course.  But also where they go and where they stop.”

“They stop?”

Trenita smiled.  “When you get where you are going.  In this case.  Castle Roogna.”

“Is that a nice place?”

“I am sure you will love it.  It has an orchard where all manner of things grow, such as pie trees.”

“Gee—even chocolate pies?”

“Especially those.  The royal children have insisted on them, and on bubblegum trees.”

“There are children there?”

“Yes.  Princess Ivy and Prince Dolph grew up there.  Of course, they're grown now, and married, and Prince Dolph and Princess Electra have their twins.  Dawn and Eve.  They are now five years old.”

“Do they have magic talents?”

“Of course,” the imp woman replied.  “Every descendant of Magician Bink has Magician-level magic.  Dawn can tell anything about any living thing, while Eve can tell anything about any inanimate thing.”

“Gee—I wish I had a magic talent, even a little one.”

Trenita shook her head.  “Mundanes lack magic.  You have to be delivered in Xanth to have it.”

“Delivered?”

“By the stork, of course.”

“You mean it's literal here?  Babies aren't born?”

“Born?”

“You know.  From their mothers.”

“Oh, borne.  The storks deliver them to their proper mothers, of course, after they have been ordered.”

“Ordered?  You mean like from a novelty catalog?”

“From a cat?  A log?  No, a message is sent to the stork.”

 “Gee, things really are different in Xanth!  How do they send the orders?”

“I must not tell you that; the Adult Conspiracy absolutely forbids it.”

So things weren't so different.  This woman was the size of a doll, but she was a typical adult.  “Same as the bleep, huh?  But why aren't children supposed to know?”

“Because then they might summon storks themselves, and not take care of their babies.”

Karen considered that.  She knew of cases in Mundania where exactly that had happened.  “But the words—why forbid them?  They aren't babies.  They won't suffer if children say them, will they?”

“But others would suffer.  Have you seen the burned foliage where harpies roost?  Would you want human children to do that?”

“Gee—I could burn things with words, if I knew the words?  I'd love that.”

Trenita sighed.  “Well, the full name is the Adult Conspiracy to Keep Interesting Things from Children.”

“That's more like it,” Karen agreed, vindicated.

“Oh, I must direct your mother to the bridge over the Gap Chasm,” Trenita said.  “Before she misses the turn.”

“I'll do it,” Karen said eagerly.  “Mom!  Mom!  Turn coming up.”

“But we're approaching the ferry station,” Mom called back.

“The ferry will be closed, because of the high winds,” Trenita said.  “We must use the bridge.”

“Makes sense, Mom,” Sean said, coming to life.  He had been pretty quiet recently, maybe because now there was no sexy Chlorine to gawk at.  “Wind blows clouds.”

“Very well.  I see a diverging lane ahead.  But will it take us off the enchanted path?”

“No, the paths to Castle Roogna are all enchanted,”

Trenita said reassuringly.

Mom made the turn.  Karen returned her attention to Trenita.  “What's it like, being an imp?”

 “Much like being human, I suspect.  Did you find our hotel strange, when you used the accommodation spell?”

“No, it was great.  Especially that magic mirror with the historical pictures.”

“It was showing you the Magic Tapestry of Castle Roogna.  You will be able to see the original there.”

“Gee!  That and a chocolate pie tree will be about as good as candy and TV at home.  Did you eat fun stuff when you were a kid?”

Trenita smiled.  “Of course.  And my mother, Quieta, disapproved.”

“Did you have lots of pretty gems to play with?”

“No just the sparkles of morning dew that my mother made.  It was only more recently that my father became mayor and had to supervise the making of more permanent kinds of gems.”

“How did Ortant get to be mayor?”

Trenita smiled reminiscently.  “My grandfather had once been ambitious.  Then my grandmother died, and he lost his ambition.  He got caught by an alligator clamp, which was slowly chewing off his leg, until a big ugly ogre named Smash roared it off.  It occurred to my grandfather that if a creature that horrendous could do such a favor for one so small, the least he could do in return was to become worthwhile.  So he resumed his ambition, and worked hard, and lived up to his name.”

“And became Important,” Karen said, liking it.  “That's nice.”

The RV slowed.  “That bridge is too small,” Mom said.

“No, it is the right size for whatever uses it,” Trenita said.  “Unlike the invisible bridge or the one-way bridge. Just go on it.”

“Maybe I'd better hold you up so you can see forward,” Karen said.  “This is getting scary.”

“Yes.  Let me stand on your shoulder.”

Karen lifted the imp carefully, until she stood on her right shoulder, holding on to a hank of her hair.  “What pretty red,” Trenita remarked, and Karen felt unreasonably pleased.

Dad had been snoring in the back, with the three pets.

Now he woke.  “Hey, don't drive into the chasm!” he exclaimed, alarmed.

“Go back to sleep,” Mom retorted.

As the RV nudged cautiously toward the footpath-sized bridge, the perspective changed, and it became apparent that the structure was wider than it had seemed.  In fact, it was also more solid.  By the time they drove onto it, it seemed quite sufficient.

“Magic is weird,” Sean muttered.

The Gap Chasm had been impressive by day on a cloud.

It was awesome by night on a bridge just wide enough for the vehicle.  There was a faint glow below, hinting at its depth, and darkness around the edges that seemed to loom twice as close the moment her eyes turned elsewhere.

Then the glow and the darkness clarified.  Ahead was a dead end, with nowhere to go but into the dark depths.

The RV squealed to a stop.  “The bridge is out,” Mom said, her voice deceptively calm.

“No it isn't,” Trenita said.  “That's illusion.  The bridge is enchanted, and will not harm you as long as you stay on it.  Just drive on.”

Mom hesitated, understandably.  Karen sympathized, that was one frighteningly realistic drop-off.  “Remember the fake goblin roadblock,” she called.

“True,” Mom agreed.  The vehicle nudged forward.

As the front wheels crossed the brink, the illusion disappeared.  The bridge was back.  But it curved to the side.

“There's no curve!” Trenita cried.  “The bridge is straight.”

“Thank you,” Mom said grimly, driving straight.

“Illusions can kill you,” Sean said, shaken.

“If you heed them,” Trenita agreed.

Now a huge dragon face formed ahead.  Its mouth opened, showing gleaming glistening glittering teeth.  The most noxious possible smoke surged out to encompass the RV.  It coalesced around the vehicle, becoming bloodstreaked slime.

“I wish the enchantment was effective against illusion,” Trenita said.

“Oh, I don't know,” Karen demurred mischievously.

“We can have some fun with this.  Sean?”

“Gotcha,” Sean agreed, catching on.  He came to join her.

They faced out the window.  “Hey, slimeball!” Karen called.  “Whatcha eating tonight?”

“How about fried worms and day-old squished caterpillars?” Sean inquired.

The slime quivered.  It might be illusion, but it heard them.  That was the great thing about Xanth:  even the inanimate had feelings.  Even things that didn't exist could hear and react.  Karen had sort of figured it would be that way, and it was good to be back in form with Sean.

“I should have known you were a dragon without guts,” Karen said.  “Just slimy smoke.”

“Pretty puny effort, if you ask me,” Sean agreed loudly, “I thought at least we'd see a decent show.”

The slime became guts.  They were gruesomely realistic, oozing juices and slip-sliding over each other.  Karen was on the verge of nauseated, but she controlled her reaction.

“I've seen better guts on a drunk,” she declared.

“On a drunk pig,” Sean agreed.  “This sure is a boring place.  Maybe the next illusion will have some oomph to it.”

The guts became a roaring furnace.  This illusion was angry now.  Good.  Karen faked a yawn.  “Booring,” she said.

“For sure,” Sean agreed.  “Let's make faces at each other, Karen; that'll be scarier.”

“Anything would be scarier,” she agreed.  She put her fingers in her mouth and pulled it wide as she stuck out her tongue.

Sean pretended to gouge out his own eyes and hand her an eyeball.  Karen accepted it and popped it in her mouth.

She made a burpy swallowing sound.  “Yuck!  It's raw.'“

Neither of them looked again at the illusion outside.

“It's gone,” Trenita murmured.

“Right,” Sean agreed.  “Our act is so bad there's nothing that can stand it.” He smiled at Karen.  “Nice going, twerp,”

“Thanks, bleephead,” she replied as he returned to his seat.

“That was interesting,” Trenita remarked.  “I never saw anyone drive away an illusion before.”

“It's Mundane talent,” Sean said.  “Nobody can stand us, in our normal state.”

Trenita laughed.  “You nevertheless have your appeal.”

The RV reached the end of the bridge and pulled back onto solid land.  Trenita returned to her side of the seat.

Karen felt something relax; she had been really tight, knowing that if the illusion had succeeded in scaring or confusing Mom, they could have plunged into the dreadful abyss.  But they had driven it away.

But she was not yet relaxed enough to sleep, despite the lateness of the hour.  So she asked the imp something that was bound to be boring.  “Why is it that all the men imps have punny names, like Ortant or Atient, while the girl imps don't?”

“Because the men are the ones who need the reassurance of meaningful names,” Trenita replied.  “We women already know our worth, so choose pretty names instead.”

“It works for me,” Karen said, and snoozed off.

When she woke, dawn was threatening, and the RV was approaching a thick forest.  Sean was asleep in the backseat, while Dad was up front with Mom.  Tweeter was perched in her hair, and Woofer was on the floor by Sean.

So the night was done, and Mom must be good and tired, but they had to be close to where they were going.

She looked out the window.  Massive tree branches swung down to block the way.  Karen blinked and rubbed her eyes.  Had she really seen that?

“Tell them you have come to save Xanth from the ill wind,” Trenita called.

Mom rolled down her window and spoke those words.

The branches swung out of the way, and the RV drove on.

“The guardian trees are very protective of the castle,” Trenita remarked.  “But they feel the effects of the magic dust.”

Now they came into a lovely orchard—and sure enough, there were pie trees galore.  “Castle Roogna!” Karen cried.

“We'll have chocolate pie for breakfast!”

That woke David.  “Wow,” he said, gazing out.

The castle came into sight.  It was just about the- most beautiful building Karen had ever seen, framed by the morning sunlight so that it glowed, with sparkles radiating out.  It had a moat and wall and turrets and cupolas and pennants and just everything a castle should have.

“Ooooo,” she breathed appreciatively.

“'Ooooo,” David mimicked her mockingly, but his heart wasn't in it, because he, too, was impressed.  They had seen so much of the jungle and illusion of Xanth that this was a wonderful change.

The drawbridge was up, but now it lowered, and a girl in blue jeans ran out.  She was slender and pigtailed, maybe about sixteen years old.  Obviously a serving girl.

“Hi!” she cried as she reached the RV.  “You must be the Mundanes.  Welcome to Castle Roogna.  I'm Electra.”

“Yes, we are the Mundane family,” Mom said.  “We understand that we can help save Xanth from the ill wind, if someone in the castle can tell us where to go and how to do it.”

“Sure.  Come on in,” Electra said.  “You must be tired after being in that moving house so long.”

“We are,” Mom agreed.  “But we're in no shape to enter a royal castle.  If someone can come out and give us directions, we'll be on our way.”

“Oh, no, you must come in,” the girl cried.  “King Dor insists.”

 “But we're grimy and rumpled and dirty,” Mom protested.

“And hungry,” David called.  He would.

“Sure,” Electra agreed brightly.  “We'll get you nice and clean and fed.”

“And we have three animals with us,” Mom said.

“They are welcome too,” the girl said enthusiastically.

She looked back to where a nondescript young man was approaching.  “There's Dolph now; he'll tell you.”

“If you're sure …” Mom said doubtfully.

Trenita spoke up.  “She's sure.  That's Princess Electra. And Prince Dolph.”

“Princess?” Karen squeaked.

“Certainly.  I should have recognized her by her description.  She's very informal.  And that's her husband.  Prince Dolph.  I made the connection when I heard his name.”