Air Apparent (5 page)

“Tell them your name, dear,” the Gorgon said.

“Debra.”

Opti did not react, but Pesi stepped toward her. “Suddenly I have this need to get hold of your—”

“Dismissed!” the Gorgon rapped, and her little snakes hissed warningly.

Both Opti and Pesi hastily departed.

The Gorgon nodded again. “It is a worthy curse, dear. One you certainly want abated. My husband surely has the Answer. Unfortunately he can’t look it up in the book of Answers at the moment. So we need an alternative.”

“An alternative? What alternative can there be to simply stopping the curse?”

“A postponed Answer. If you will agree to perform your Service first, I will guarantee to make Humfrey provide your Answer once he has the Book in order again.”

Debra considered. That did seem fair, and was a lot better than no chance of an Answer. “What would I have to do? If it involves working with men, that’s no good.”

“This requires more background. I must ask you not to reveal what I am about to tell you.”

“Okay,” Debra agreed, curious.

“We have a murder mystery to solve. A body turned up in the cellar, and Wira’s husband, my son Hugo, disappeared. We think he saw the murderer, and got transformed or relegated to some unkind place. Wira is desperate to find him. But Wira can’t search for him alone.”

“She can’t? Why not?”

“Because I am blind,” Wira said.

Debra stared at her. “But you led me through the castle with no misstep!”

“I am familiar with the castle. I am not familiar with the outside.”

Now Debra saw that there was a certain blankness to the woman’s gaze. She really was blind. “I’m sorry.”

“I am long accustomed to it,” Wira said. “But now I need help. Someone must go with me to be my eyes. Someone I can trust.”

“You want me to—to go with you? But you don’t even know me. Anyway, I hardly know Xanth myself. I wouldn’t be much help.”

“Do you lack the nerve simply to say no?” Wira asked.

Debra was caught. The woman was quoting her own words back to her. She couldn’t say no. “I just don’t want to get us both eaten by a dragon. Surely there are many far more competent people to do this.”

“Surely there are,” the Gorgon agreed. “But none of them came on this day as querents. You are the one we have. We may have a way to enable you to protect yourself from dragons.”

Debra was trying not to feel sorry for the blind woman. She did want to help, if she could. “Okay, I’ll make that deal. I’ll help, and get my Answer later. But how can I protect myself from dragons, let alone anyone else? I’m just a poor weak young inexperienced girl with no magic. None that I want, anyway.”

“We have a potion that will transform you into a winged centaur.”

Debra stared at the Gorgon. “But—but they’re—bare breasted!”

“No problem about a bra,” the Gorgon agreed.

“But I couldn’t possibly—to show myself like that—” Then she saw Wira’s silent disappointment. She couldn’t say no. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” the Gorgon said. “I will fetch the potion.” She got up and left the room.

“Thank you,” Wira echoed. “This gives me my chance to solve the mystery and recover Hugo.”

“You’re welcome,” Debra said, feeling faint. What had she gotten herself into?”

CLOUDS

The Gorgon brought the potion in a small vial. “Drink this, and the transformation should occur in the next few minutes.”

Suddenly Debra was beset by doubts almost as bad as the Giggles had been. “Should occur? You’re not sure?”

“Well, it’s an old potion. But they’re supposed to keep indefinitely.”

“But what if it goes wrong? What will become of me?”

“Are you saying no?”

That got to her. Debra was beginning to regret her extemporaneous little speech. She took the vial, uncorked it, and gulped down the potion before she could change her mind.

It tasted good, and it had a kick like boot rear, only all over her body. Something was definitely happening.

“You took it so quickly,” the Gorgon said. “I was going to suggest that you remove your clothing first.”

Debra was halfway distracted. “Why?”

“Because the potion doesn’t affect clothing, just the body. And centaurs are—”

“Larger,” Debra said, catching on. She tried to remove her shirt and skirt, but she was already changing, and they were caught tight. All she could do was let them be.

Her belly and rear were ballooning. Knobs protruded from her hips, extending into hairy sticks that dropped down to touch the floor. Her buttocks swelled big enough to burst her panties, pushing back and back, carrying her hind legs along with them. Her chest remained much the same, but her breasts overflowed her bra, then snapped its strap and pushed victoriously forward. Now she remembered: centaurs were better endowed than humans. She had a bosom that would have made her an instant starlet in Mundania. The split shirt and torn bra hung uselessly from it. Her skirt and panties were stretched across the solid rump of a horse. And her hind hooves were jammed precariously into the remnants of her shoes.

Indeed, she should have removed her clothing first. She just hadn’t been thinking.

“Let me help,” the Gorgon said. She worked with the shirt and bra, tugging loose the tatters. But she had to use a small knife to get the hideously stretched panties off. Meanwhile Wira found her hind feet and pried off the shoes. That was more comfortable.

Now Debra stood suitably bare. She wasn’t concerned about her hindquarters; she had always admired horses. But her front—how could she parade in plain sight with these monstrous bare mammaries?

“Could—please, could I have a mirror?” she asked.

The Gorgon produced one. Debra took it and held it up before her.

Her head, arms, and torso down to the waist looked exactly like her, and suddenly the enormous breasts seemed to be in proportion. She was a centaur; that was the way they were. That also alleviated her concern about exposure; centaurs had no sensitivity about their bodies. Her face was identical, and her hair was the same, except that it had filled out in back to form a mane.

Actually, she was a good-looking woman, up front. And a handsome mare, behind. This would do.

“You will want to be cautious about your first flight,” the Gorgon said. “You don’t want to crash.”

Then Debra noticed the wings that sprouted from the forepart of her barrel-shaped torso. They were folded but enormous, like great white feathered quilts half covering her back. They were white and beautiful. “Oh, yes,” she sighed.

“Let me explain,” the Gorgon continued. “Winged centaurs don’t fly by the sheer power of their wings. They flick themselves with their magic tails to make themselves light. Then the wings can handle the reduced weight. The effect gradually fades as time passes, but can be renewed as required, on land or in flight. It’s a convenient system. But at first it can be awkward.”

Debra discovered she could switch her tail. “Like this?” she asked, flicking it toward her own back.

“Don’t do it yet!” the Gorgon said.

Too late. The tip of the tail connected solidly. And Debra’s rear section floated into the air. It hauled the rest of her up until it came against the ceiling. She was left suspended from her own hindquarters.

“I see your point,” she gasped. “Now what?”

“Flick your fore section, lightly,” the Gorgon said. “Until it matches your rear, restoring your balance. Then wait for the lightening to fade.”

“Lightning!” Debra exclaimed, alarmed. “Is there a thunderstorm?”

“Lightening,” the Gorgon said, accenting the center syllable. “Making yourself light. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

“I’m hanging,” Debra agreed ruefully.

“While we wait for you to come to ground,” the Gorgon said, “there are one or two other things to know. Never flick yourself too hard outside; you’ll float to the moon. Never flick anyone else hard. Caution is the watchword, until you have an expert touch.”

“I’m learning,” Debra agreed. “I never had voluntary magic before.”

“And you will need this,” the Gorgon said, bringing out a large bow and quiver of arrows.

Debra was aghast. “I can’t use that thing! I never shot an arrow in my life!”

“All centaurs, male and female, are expert archers,” the Gorgon said. “They can fetch their bows from their backs in an instant, loose an arrow, and it will score. Other creatures know that, and are wary.”

“But I hardly know which end of the arrow to notch!”

“Nock.”

“Whatever. It’s ludicrous to expect me to hit the ground from ten feet.”

“Then perhaps you will have to bluff. That should be effective.”

“I can’t bluff! This is disaster.”

“The form may bring some ability,” Wira said. “Just as it brings the lightening magic.”

“Oh, I hope so! Because I’m starting from zero, or a minus quantity.”

“It might help to discuss it with another human-to-centaur convert,” the Gorgon said. “Like Cynthia Centaur. But you can’t, because this mission has to be secret. If the murderer learns what you’re up to, he may kill Hugo. But I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.”

Debra did not share her sureness, but it seemed pointless to argue the case. She would simply have to do the best she could.

Slowly her lightness faded, and her four hooves came to rest on the floor. Now the Gorgon conducted her to a courtyard open to the sky. “Keep yourself heavy, and try your wings.”

Debra tried. Her wings spread beautifully, every feather perfect. When she pumped them, they sent air washing down, trying to heave her body into the air.

“You will have to use your tail as a rudder,” the Gorgon said. “You don’t want to spin out of control. Try a very brief flight now.”

Debra did, this time lightening herself with extreme caution. She flexed her wings, and rose a little—and spun crazily, tilting and bobbing.

“That’s probably enough for the day,” the Gorgon said. “Rest now, and think about it, and we’ll practice more tomorrow.”

Debra was glad to agree. They went back inside, and the Gorgon gave her a room piled with pillows so she could flop down without much concern for injury. What a day this had become!

She slept well, but woke early with a full bladder. She got up and looked for a bathroom, but found none—and how could her huge equine body possibly fit in it anyway, or use its facilities? This was an embarrassing problem.

Wira appeared, her sensitive hearing alerting her. “May I help you?” she inquired politely.

“I need to—to pee,” Debra blurted.

“Just go outside and do it anywhere.”

“I can’t do that! It’s far too public and, well, messy. I need a—I don’t know what I need, but I’m desperate.”

“Centaurs have no hang-ups about natural functions,” Wira reminded her. “That includes urination, defecation, regurgitation, and of course sex.”

“Sex! I’m only thirteen.”

Wira nodded. “Oh, that’s right. But you see, centaurs have different rules of behavior. They don’t use storks to deliver their young, and they don’t have any Adult Conspiracy, though they honor it in the presence of humans. You might say they humor us. So you are free to do anything you choose, anywhere, publicly or privately.”

“I think I’m still too human,” Debra said. “It’s bad enough showing my bare torso; I can’t do—natural functions—in public.”

“Then make your way out to the garden in back and do it privately. No one will mind.”

“Thank you.” Debra did that, and found a nice garden thick with concealing trees and shrubs. There she was able to relieve herself in decent privacy. She was coming to understand that there was more to becoming a flying centaur than just learning the mechanisms of lightening her body. It would be a problem adapting to centaur conventions, but she would make the effort.

“That was impressive,” a young man said.

Debra jumped, literally. “I thought I was alone!”

“What does it matter? You’re a centaur. I might have a problem dumping that amount of fluid, but of course you don’t.”

“Of course,” Debra agreed, trying valiantly to stifle a blush.

“Hello. I’m Timothy. My talent is to summon animals: ants, bees, bulls, whatever. I was practicing here in the garden, and thought I’d try a winged centaur, just for variety.”

“I’m not an animal!”

“That’s why it’s a challenge. Who are you? Another querent serving her year of Service?”

“Yes.” She braced herself. “I’m Debra.”

Tim gazed at her front. “Funny thing. I just had the oddest urge to—but of course you’re not wearing one.”

“That’s my curse. It’s why I’m here.” She changed the subject. “I met someone with your name outside.”

“That was Timur, not the same at all.”

So it wasn’t. “I apologize for my mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it; everyone confuses us at first.” He glanced past her. “Ah, there’s Psyche. We’ve been seeing each other during our Service. Hey, Psyche!”

The girl approached. “Hello,” she said shyly. “I never met a winged centaur before.”

“I’m not a real one,” Debra said. “I’ve been transformed so I can do my Service. I’m really a human girl.” She did not clarify what her Service was, as she knew that Wira and the Gorgon did not want the situation with the murder mystery and the fouled up Book of Answers to be generally known. “I’m still learning how to be a centaur.”

“Fascinating,” the girl said. “I’m Psyche. My talent is role reversal. I never understood it until the Good Magician told me.”

“Role reversal?”

“I can reverse the roles of others, like changing a predator to prey, or a minor character to a major character for a quest. I understand it’s a pretty strong talent.”

“It is,” Timothy said.

That made Debra wonder. She had thought of herself as a distinctly minor character, but the quest she was about to go on seemed more like a major one. Had Psyche’s talent been used on her? She didn’t care to inquire.

They chatted a while longer. Then Timothy and Psyche went for a walk together, evidently having more in mind than mere dialogue with stray centaurs, and Debra headed for the castle interior.

“There’s another thing,” Wira said when she returned. “Many centaurs consider magic talents to be obscene.”

“But if the winged ones use magic to help themselves fly—”

“Yes, so it’s muted in winged centaurs. But you have to be wary of it in land-bound ones. It’s probably best not to mention magic at all, as it may relate to centaurs, lest someone’s sensitivities be disturbed.”

“Centaurs will pee in public, but object to talk of magic?”

“To them, it’s human conventions that are backward. They don’t even like to admit that they have human ancestry.”

“I will keep it in mind,” Debra agreed. She found it interesting that centaurs seemed to have their own hang-ups.

They spent the day practicing flying, landing, and handling the bow. Debra might not be able to score on anything smaller than the sky, but she had to be ready to look as if she could. She hoped she never had to perform that bluff, though. For one thing, the bow was too stiff for her to draw, let alone use effectively.

“Now understand,” the Gorgon said. “We can’t just let everyone know what we’re doing, because the murderer might hear, and take it out on Hugo. So as far as others are concerned, the mission is for Wira to locate her lost sight, so she can see again.”

“I was never able to see,” Wira protested.

“That makes no nevermind, dear. It’s a necessary cover story.”

“Wasn’t it hard, growing up without vision?” Debra asked, realizing how well off she was in comparison.

“I didn’t mind, but my family did,” Wira said. “They had me put to sleep at age sixteen.”

“But you’re alive!” Debra said.

“I believe its a euphemism for death in Mundania,” the Gorgon said. “In Xanth it is literal: she joined the realm of dreams, until Hugo met her there. Then one thing led to another, and we brought her out and youthened her body so she could be as young physically as she had seemed to him in the dream realm. She has been here ever since.”

“I see,” Debra said, chastened. Wira had a darker history than she had realized.

The following day they were ready to go. That was to say, Debra doubted she would ever be really ready, but Wira was anxious to search for her lost husband, and couldn’t wait anymore. The Gorgon packed several excellent meals in saddlebags, Wira mounted her back, and Debra spread her wings and took off.

And landed half a hoofprint away. In her distraction she had forgotten to flick them light.

She flicked them carefully and tried again. This time she sailed into the sky. They were on their way.

“Oh, I feel the height,” Wira exclaimed, hanging on tightly to Debra’s mane as she winged upward in great spirals.

“You feel it? How?” She realized now that one reason they had chosen this form for her was so she could talk with Wira; it would have been hard for a griffin or winged horse to do that. Wira clearly needed that feedback, because she could not see her surroundings herself.

“The air is cooler and thinner, and there are bird sounds. It’s a whole different atmosphere.”

Debra listened. Sure enough, now she heard the faint sounds of distant birds. And yes, it was cooler up here, though the sunlight was bright. “It’s new to me too,” she said. “I never flew before adopting this form.”

“It’s an adventure for both of us.”