Air Apparent (3 page)

“But we can’t do that sort of magic.”

“Yes we can. You forget that I was the one who first put all Humfrey’s collected spells in order. There’s a forgotten conversion spell on a back shelf, beyond the pun-gloves. It’s voluntary, which means she’ll have to agree to it, but of course we want her agreement. We can do this without disturbing Humfrey at all.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Wira breathed.

“I hope she’s a nice girl,” the Gorgon said.

“That, too,” Wira agreed. She was beginning to have faint hope.

DEBRA

Debra was not at all certain she was doing the right thing. But what else was there? Ever since she had arrived in Xanth she had been driven to distraction by her curse. Maybe the Good Magician could abolish it. So he charged a year’s Service or the equivalent for an Answer; it wasn’t as though she had anything better to do right now.

She stood at the edge of the moat and gazed at her reflection. She looked like exactly what she was: a thirteen-year-old Mundane girl. The details didn’t matter. Only the curse mattered. She was half ashamed that it was not a big bold dangerous curse that threatened extinction to whole cities. It was small and personal, and aggravating as bleep.

Bleep: now there was a good word, for all that it wasn’t really a word. People weren’t allowed to swear here, so when they tried it got bleeped out. She found that more entertaining than annoying. It was one of the things she liked about this magic land. Certainly it was better than dreary Mundania.

Well, she was here. The Good Magician’s Castle stood before her, right across the moat. She knew the rule: she would have to get through three Challenges, and if she succeeded, serve her term. She was ready. Maybe.

She contemplated the moat. In seeming answer, colored fins appeared in it. Debra shuddered; she knew those were loan sharks, ready to take an arm and a leg. She couldn’t try to swim across.

Just to be sure, she experimented. She flipped a branching twig into the water. Sure enough, a huge white shark forged across and snapped up two of its branches. The arm and leg branches.

Several people emerged from the castle and trooped across the drawbridge. They looked carefree. They reached the outside of the moat and followed a path toward Debra. She waited, knowing what was coming.

They stopped when they saw her. “Hello,” the leading girl said. “Are you looking for the Good Magician? This is his castle.”

“I am,” Debra agreed. “I have a question for him.”

“Oh, you’re a querent.” Debra didn’t quite catch the word, but didn’t like it. “Well, I wish you luck. I had to go through it six months ago. I’m Steph.”

Debra tried to stave off the inevitable. “You had a Question? But then why are you leaving the castle?”

Steph laughed. “I’m serving my year. We all are. We came to ask our talents, and Magician Humfrey told us, and now we’re working it out. Mine’s the ability to freeze things in place, like a wiggle swarm or half a horde of goblins. This is Bev; her talent is Time: she knows when to start an action so that it will be successful or unsuccessful. And this is Timur, with the talent of cooling or heating water, to vapor or ice. We need to fetch some lethe elixir for the Good Magician.”

“Lethe!” Debra exclaimed. “Doesn’t that make you forget things?”

“Yes. That’s why it’s dangerous. Bev says this is the time to do it, when we can succeed. I will lock it in place so we can safely get a bottle of it. Timur will cool it to freezing after it’s in the bottle so it won’t leak out. It may be a challenge, no pun, but we’ll get it done.”

“So it’s not so bad, working for the Good Magician,” Bev said hopefully.

“Not bad at all,” Steph agreed. “You’ll like it, if you get through to Ask your Question. What did you say your name is?”

There it was. She had to answer. “Debra.”

“Say,” Timur said, stepping toward her. He reached for her chest.

Debra cringed.

“You’re scaring her,” Steph told him. “What’s gotten into you, Tim?”

He snapped out of it, embarrassed. “Sorry. Something—never mind.”

“We have a job to do,” Steph said. “You can’t just go grabbing underage girls.” She hustled him on past. “Sorry about that, Deb,” she said over her shoulder. “He’s not like that. Usually.” They went on.

Debra made a silent sigh of relief. She had gotten through, this time.

She would have to use the drawbridge. Fortunately it was down across the moat, having just been used by the three. However she doubted it would just let her cross. Xanth was a magic land, and just about everything had magic and attitude to go with it.

Sure enough, the moment she set foot on the path toward the drawbridge, an array of cats appeared. They seemed to be in a queue before a chamber where a lion and a witch guarded a wardrobe. Each cat presented coins before being allowed to disappear into the wardrobe.

There was something halfway familiar about the scene, but Debra couldn’t quite place it. She attempted to pass the line, but immediately the cats hissed and spit at her. “I’m not trying to break into your line,” Debra said. “I just want to move on to the other side of it.” But they evidently didn’t understand. They would not let her through.

She paused, considering. This must be a Challenge. But how did it apply? Was she supposed to join the line and go into the big wardrobe? Somehow she doubted it; whatever was in it was not something she wanted. More likely she just needed to get them to let her pass their line.

This was Xanth. It was a land of puns. Could this be some kind of pun?

Then she got it. “Fee-line!” she cried. “Feline. You’re cats lining up to pay your fee for entry to whatever it is you’re going to.”

The scene faded, lion, witch, wardrobe and all. She had gotten the pun, or at least enough of it to qualify. Maybe it was part of some other story. She stepped forward, advancing toward the drawbridge.

But now there was some kind of stem in her way. It was huge, with milky joints, and extended in such a tangle it would be quite awkward to get around, over, or through it. It was surely another pun. But what?

She traced an offshoot tendril, and discovered a big animal growing from it. In fact it was a Mundane cow! “Hi, Bossy,” she said.

“Mooo!” the cow responded amiably.

What kind of a plant grew cows?

Then she got it: “Bo-vine!”

The cow-plant faded, allowing her to take a few more steps toward the drawbridge. She was getting through the Challenge.

But now she came to a collection of odd creatures milling around. The path led right through their pen, and she hesitated to barge through. She had to figure out what kind of puns these creatures were.

One was a teddy bear–like creature picking what looked like cupcakes from a plant and eating them. With each one it ate, the animal became funnier, changing colors, sizes, and shapes. What were those sweetbreads?

She picked one and tasted it. Suddenly she felt insanely witty. “What do you call a dull ogre?” she asked rhetorically. “A medi-ogre! What about a liquid yellow flower that shoots seeds from its center? A pistil! What about tea that kills you? Mortalitea!”

Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. What was she saying? This was such crude humor it was positively unladylike. What had gotten into her?

That piece of cupcake she had just eaten. That bun, the same kind that was making the teddy bear react just as crazily. What was in it?

Then she caught on. “It’s not a bun, it’s a pun! It makes me emit stinky puns!” But what about the animal? It wasn’t stinking. It must be adapted to handle this diet. “And you’re a Punda!” she exclaimed, pleased.

The creature faded. She had identified it.

But there were others. For example, an ox-like animal that looked exceedingly stupid. What could it be?

She nibbled a bit more of the pun she still held. “A Flummox!” she said. The creature faded.

Then next was an inlet of the moat, on which floated what seemed to be a block of ice. It was a miniature iceberg, but there was something odd about it. It was moving, but she wasn’t sure how fast, and she couldn’t tell exactly where it was. It wasn’t that it was fuzzy, just that somehow it seemed impossible to judge both position and motion at the same time.

Something nagged her memory. Something in physics class, or a footnote in the text. “It’s a Heisen-berg!” she exclaimed.

The berg faded; it had been fathomed. Her brain had nearly split, but she had gotten it. The Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

Now there was a big muscular bug. It was lifting rocks out of the way, heaving them with phenomenal efforts. Some it took bites from, evidently liking the taste. What could it be?

She nibbled again on the pun. “Dine-o-mite!” she said. “Or maybe dino-might. Explosively strong bug.”

The mite faded. It had been contained.

She stepped forward—and encountered a phenomenal musical note that sent shivers halfway up her spine and tremors along the rest of it. She fell back, alarmed. What could this be? She had never before reacted this way to mere music.

This had to be another pun. But how could there be a pun in music, a mere single note? Too many such notes would give her a backache.

Then she got it. “It’s a Spinal Chord!”

The remnant of the note faded, and with it her pain in the spine. She took another step.

A fenced area appeared, filled with people: men, women, children. They all seemed somewhat motley, as if they knew themselves to be of no account. Some of them were working at sundry tasks, not very hard or well.

One person stood apart, in an adjacent lot. He was handsome and well dressed, and seemed to be the very picture of success. The path led directly to him.

There had to be a pun, but whatever could it be? A successful man, separated from the other folk: what was special or funny about that?

She took another bite of the bun, and got it. “You’re out standing in your field!” she told the man.

He glanced at her, nodding, as he faded.

And it seemed she had finally won through this Challenge, because there were no more puns. The path was open to the drawbridge.

Debra approached the drawbridge. There was a man guarding it. He was about six feet tall, fit, with curly brown hair and a mustache. In fact just the kind she liked to get secret crushes on. She hoped he didn’t demand to know her name.

“Hello,” she said cautiously. “I need to cross the bridge, if that’s all right.”

He shook his head. “Hello to you. I’m Bernie, and I’m here to prevent you from doing that. If you try to set foot on it I will pick you up and toss you into the moat.”

“But there are sharks there!” she protested.

“Plus a hungry moat monster,” he agreed. “So you had better not try.”

“But I need to see the Good Magician.”

“He doesn’t need to see you, honey. He doesn’t like to be bothered.”

“I have to see him!” she wailed. “He’s the only one who can possibly help me.”

Bernie looked at her with some compassion. “Look, honey, I have a daughter of my own. I never want to see her hurt. But I have a job to do here. This is a Challenge. I will not let you pass if I can help it.”

A sympathetic Challenge. That struck her as unusual. Maybe she could learn something useful. So she talked with him. “How can you stand all these puns?”

“I love puns! You ran afoul of some good ones.”

“They were awful ones!”

“Same thing, honey. The very best puns are the real stinkers. Let’s face it: the Land of Xanth is pretty much made of puns. If you can’t handle them, you don’t belong here.”

He had a point. But this wasn’t getting her across the drawbridge. Maybe she could befriend him, and he would let her by after all. Or something. “What’s the best/worst pun you’ve seen, Bernie?”

“That’s easy! It’s the Bombshell.”

“The bombshell? I thought that was a pretty woman.”

“It is, in Mundania. Here it’s an explosive shell. It can stun men just by its look, and when you throw it, it explodes and stuns everyone in the vicinity. I love it. But of course I’m a man; it wouldn’t have the same effect on you.”

“I suppose not,” Debra agreed. “But isn’t a shell a cylinder with gunpowder in it, or dynamite?” She flinched inwardly, remembering the pun on that word she had recently passed. “What’s so special about that?”

“It’s the shape of the shell, honey. Like the sexiest woman alive.”

Oh. Debra gazed into the moat, trying to think of some other lead, as this one wasn’t working out.

She saw the hourglass figure of a woman who was shapelier than Debra had ever dreamed of being. Yet it was a shell. Could it be?

She reached into the water and lifted it out. “What do you think of this?” she asked, holding it up.

Bernie stared. “That’s it! The Bombshell!”

“This?” She turned it around so that it showed the plush bottom that revealed just a bit of panty.

Bernie didn’t answer. She looked at him, and saw he was frozen in place, staring at the shell. He had freaked out! Now she remembered that the sight of women’s panties did that to men in Xanth, and maybe in Mundania too. As long as the figure was in view, he would remain in stasis. Men were like that; they just couldn’t take their eyes off something sexy.

She had found the key to passing this Challenge. She set the bombshell carefully on the ground, taking care not to conceal any part of it. Bernie’s eyes followed it, locked on.

She stepped away from the shell. Bernie didn’t move. She walked quietly around him and set foot on the draw-bridge. He did not react. She had found the way through, as much by luck as design. But of course the Challenges were designed to be solved; a person just had to be alert. She was glad she hadn’t had to throw the shell at him; its mere appearance was enough.

Two Challenges done. One to go.

She crossed the moat and came to the portcullis that guarded the castle entrance. The bars were raised, but she didn’t quite trust this: would the whole heavy thing come plunging down on her head if she walked under it?

She poked one hand under, ready to yank it back. Nothing happened. So she nerved herself and jumped past, giving the thing no time to catch her.

That turned out to be just as well, because the bars crashed down just behind her. Now she was locked inside the castle.

Well, it was where she wanted to be. She looked around, and found herself in a short hall leading to a garden area. It was a pretty garden, with many trees, shrubs, paths, and pools. If this was a Challenge, it was a nice one. Of course she didn’t trust it. There would be some mischief here.

A big sign said ASK NOT WHAT CONCERNS YOU NOT, LEST YOU HEAR WHAT PLEASES YOU NOT.