Heaven Cent (29 page)

Could Fracto find them here? Dolph hoped that by the time the evil storm did, it would be too late, for they would have landed at the Heaven Cent.

“You weren't fooling about knowing how to land?” Dolph asked Marrow.

“The air controller explained how,” the skeleton agreed. “This isn't supposed to be our bad dream; they want us out of the air as soon as possible.”

That made sense, though Dolph wondered why the gourd had put them here if it was a mistake. Maybe it was because he was destined to find the cent, and this was the only way, so the gourd had no choice about it. Just so long as they got there safely.

Fracto did find them, but now they were too low for the storm to get a proper fix on. Dolph guided the bird lower yet. He spied the edge of the land, and the surprisingly narrow band of water between it and the Isle of View. From the boat it had seemed extensive, but it was really just a channel, as if the islands were the true shoreline. It was amazing how deceptive this perspective could be!

Now Marrow told him which buttons to push to bring the bird safely low and slow. Dolph followed instructions without question. The bird looped about and came, down from the south side, touching the beach as it moved north. Sand sprayed up and the bird jerked terribly, but it managed to skew to a stop near the north end of the isle. Weak with relief, Dolph opened the door and jumped out, followed by the skeletons.

And there, ahead, was a small building. In fact it was a tomb. Bowers grew in a little garden on its top, which he knew were of the love-lies-bleeding variety. There was a solid stone door.

Dolph tried to open die door, but it absolutely refused to budge. No one could get in to the maiden or the Heaven Cent. No one without the proper key.

Dolph turned to Grace’l. “Can you open this?”

“I will try,” she said.

She began tapping her ribs with her fingers. Though she looked well fleshed, and felt the same, it was illusion; her bone fingers tapped bone ribs when she did it. Her fingers seemed to pass right through the flesh of her breasts. She tapped out an ascending scale of notes, beginning with the long ribs in the center and ending with the shortest ribs down near her waist. Thus her highest notes, oddly, were lowest on her body. Finally she tapped the smallest rib of all, and the grace note sounded.

The tomb shuddered, resonating to the note. Then the door creaked open. The skeleton key of G had worked!

Dolph entered the dark opening. It was eerily cold inside. In a moment his eyes adjusted, and he saw a long box resting on a pedestal. It looked like a coffin. This would be where the sleeping maiden lay.

He heaved on the lid, and it came up. It wasn't as heavy as it looked. He eased it over to the side. The wan light from the doorway slanted in, highlighting the figure inside.

It was a girl, a child no older than Dolph. She was garbed in a simple print frock, and her light brown hair was braided on either side, falling over her shoulders. She was cute, with a few freckles, but also very pale.

“We must help her up,” Dolph said. “She knows' where the Heaven Cent is.”

He reached down to take hold of her hands—but his own hands passed right through her body without resistance. Dolph stared, stirring her nonexistent flesh with one hand. “She's a ghost!”

“Or maybe you are,” Marrow said. “Remember, you are in the gourd; your body was left behind.”

“Oh, yes. But how can I get her up?”

“I think sleeping maidens are traditionally awakened by kissing. If you wake her, she should be able to get up by herself.”

Dolph remembered. “Okay, I'll kiss her. I've learned how.”

He leaned down carefully, and touched his lips to those of the sleeping maiden. He felt nothing, but he could see that he was in the right place. He moved his lips in the kissing syndrome.

The girl's eyes popped open. “Pi!” she exclaimed. “Xipbsf zpv?”

“Oh, no! She's speaking Mundane!” Dolph cried.

“Well, she is in Mundania,” Marrow said.

The girl saw the skeleton. She screamed and scrambled out of the coffin. “Ifrnq! Ju't b monster!” she cried as she hid behind the lid.

“That's no monster!” Dolph retorted. “That's Marrow!”

She peeked out at him. “You're talking sense now. You kissed me awake. Who are you?”

“I am Prince Dolph. Who are you? Do you have the Heaven Cent?”

“I am Electra. I love you. Will you marry me?”

Dolph's jaw dropped. “What?”

“I am doomed to love the Prince who wakes me, and to perish if he does not marry me. So will you?”

“But I am already betrothed!” He had known that this complication could occur; he just didn't want to accept it.

Her face crumpled. “Oh, I should have known! It's that curse! I'll die!”

Dolph was nonplused. “You'll die if I don't marry you?”

“I'll bleed to death! I've slept a thousand years, and lost a lot of vitality, and the only way I can live is to marry the Prince who kisses me awake. That's the way it is. But the curse—”

“Do you have the Heaven Cent?” Marrow asked.

“Well, yes, but it's no good now, because it's expended, you have to make another. That will take about three years.”

“But how can you make it if you die?” Doiph asked.

“Well, I can't, of course. Oh, if only that curse hadn't—”

“Then I'll marry you,” Dolph said. “Uh, in a few years, when I'm old enough. If you'll make the Heaven Cent.”

“You will? Oh, marvelous!” Electra left the shelter of the coffin lid, approached him, flung her arms around him and kissed him. This time her lips were tangible and firm. “Of course I'll make the Heaven Cent for you!” Then she pulled back. “But didn't you say you were already betrothed?”

“Well, yes. But—”

A shape loomed at the doorway to the tomb. “So!” it bellowed. “The exiled one has returned! Now pay the penalty!”

Grace’l screamed hi terror.

“The Night Stallion!” Marrow cried. “He heard the grace note!”

The huge form of the stallion blocked the doorway. “You others may go. Take hold of the boy's hands, and I will send you out. But this female skeleton must remain for her trial. No doubt you will never see her again.”

“We can't do that!” Dolph protested. “She made my mission possible! She opened the crypt!”

“No, go, go!” Grace’l cried. “I am lost, but you are not! Go, before you anger the stallion further!”

“I will share your fate!” Marrow said, stepping toward her.

“No! He will destroy you! None of us of the gourd can oppose him! Do not make it worse than it is!”

Marrow hesitated, obviously torn between loyalty and logic. He was no coward, as his battle with the goblins had shown, but he was also no fool. He knew he could not help, and that he had other responsibilities.

The stallion lowered his glowing gaze to fix directly on Grace’l. The flesh-illusion puffed away, revealing her bare bones. No secrets from this creature, the master of dreams! “Now, nonconformist, we shall try your mettle thoroughly.”

Dolph leaped between them. “No!” he cried, facing the dread stallion. "I am not of your realm, I am a prince, and I forbid this thing! Grace’l is a good person! She should be rewarded, not punished!*'

The stallion's eye fixed on Dolph. “Prince, I know your lineage. My way governs here. If you take this creature's part, you will be judged as she is.”

“Then judge me!” Dolph cried. “Let the others go! I will help her as she helped me!”

“No, Dolph!” Grace’l protested. “You do not know this creature's power! I should never have come here!”

“You came to help me, and I shall help you,” Dolph said firmly, not budging, though fear constricted his throat. He was a prince, and he knew the liabilities as well as the privileges of the office. This quest had shown him more of both than he had expected, but he had no choice but to honor the role he had been born to. “Stallion, try us both, or let us both go!”

“As you wish,” the stallion said. His eyes blinked. Marrow and Electra disappeared. “The trial begins.”

A aged man knocked at the door of the hut. “I am looking for Electra,” he said.

Electra's mother was taken aback. “My daughter is eight years old. What could you want with her?”

“She has magic. The Sorceress Tapis wishes to trade for her.”

"The Sorceress!”  The woman tried to shut the door in the man's face, but his toe blocked it.

“It is best to listen to what the Sorceress offers,” the man said.

The woman sighed, realizing he was right. Magicians and Sorceresses were seldom good news, but they were worse when affronted. She opened the door again and let the man in.

Electra looked at him, awed at the notion of a visit from an emissary of a Sorceress. He was unimpressive: stooped, grizzled, and his beard reached almost to the floor. He carried a package under one arm. He seemed harmless.

“I am Electra,” she said boldly. She had learned to be bold, because she could only shock a person once in a day, and boldness was a better foil. Usually the mere threat of the shock was enough to stop trouble. “What magic is this?”

“Your talent, untrained, is crude,” the old man said. “But properly trained, it can become far subtler and greater. The Sorceress wishes to train you, so that you will make a thing she needs. She will treat you well.”

“I don't want my child to be the victim of the Sorceress!” Electra's mother protested.

“You don't want her too much with her father, either,” the man snapped back.

Electra's mother fell back, dismayed. How could this stranger have learned that Electra got along with her father better than her mother did? There was rivalry and jealousy in the family, and it was getting worse though none of them wished it; but none of them had spoken of this to outsiders. The truth was that both mother and daughter secretly wished she could be rid of the other, to live with Electra's father alone.

But Electra was also interested in adventure. She dreamed of going to far places and seeing strange things and meeting unusual people. The truth was that it was very dull, here at West Stockade; about the only excitement was some distance distant, at the Gap Chasm. No one dared go down into it because of the dragon, and there was little of interest outside it. “What is the Sorceress offering?” she asked, her defensive boldness taking on a tint of interest.

The old man opened his package. “This,” he said, unrolling a cloth picture.

Electra and her mother stared. It was a tapestry, with an ordinary picture woven into it, but the detail was amazingly intricate, so that it looked completely realistic. It showed a neat cottage on a beach, with trees behind bearing fruits, nuts, pies, shoes, pillows and other necessities. Pretty flowers fringed it, and a sea breeze played with the leaves. Electra fell in love with it immediately; she was very quick with such emotions.

“A picture,” her mother said, unimpressed.

“For you, the picture,” the man said. “For the girl, the cottage, to live in while she works with the Sorceress.”

Electra's heart leaped. “That very cottage?” she asked, thrilled. “For me?”

“What's so great about a picture?” Electra's mother asked.

“It is one of the Sorceress’ tapestries,” the man said. "It will show a new scene every day of the week, and then repeat. You may step through to that scene, and back, if you do it the same day. You may have the use of this tapestry as long as your daughter works with the Sorceress.”

“I don't believe it!” the woman said, beginning to believe.

“And you, Electra,” the man said. “A companion tapestry will be with you. You may use it to return home at any time, or to visit other parts of Xanth. The Sorceress is not a harsh mistress. She will treat you very well, and you will like her. When you complete your tour with her, you will have greatly enhanced use of your talent. If you find yourself unsatisfied, you have only to use the tapestry to return to your home; the Sorceress will not try to hold you.”

“This sounds like a trap!” Electra's mother snorted.

Electra had been in doubt, but this abolished it. She had never thought much of her mother's judgments, except in men. “I'll go!” she said.

Her mother opened her mouth to protest, but paused. After all, if this was a valid offer, it was a good one. If it was a trap, it was Electra taking the risk. Either way, the girl would be gone, and no fault would accrue to her mother. “If you insist,” she finally said. “But I advise against it.”

Electra realized that her mother was not entirely opaque. Her negative advice both protected her from blame if things went bad, and encouraged Electra to do it. Nevertheless, she was smitten by the prospect, and eager to go. “I'm ready!” she declared.

“This way,” the old man said. “I shall step through, and you can follow me.” He put the tapestry against a wall, where it remained, adhering by magic. Then he hefted up one foot and poked it into the picture. The foot disappeared, followed by his leg. He ducked his head, hunched his shoulders, pulled his arms in, and swung his body through the tapestry. Now only his trailing leg remained in the hut; the rest of him was in the picture. Then he heaved that leg up and through, and stood in the scene. He turned and gestured to Electra.

Electra considered. Then she ran toward the picture, leaped up, and made a ball of herself that fit neatly within the frame. She hurtled through, straightened out her body, and made a jolting but apt landing on the beach. She had done it!

She turned and looked back. There was the picture, on the trunk of a tree. Only now it showed the interior of her hut, with her mother standing there amazed. Sure enough, the tapestry was a window between the two places.

“The Sorceress is awaiting you,” the old man said. “This way, please.”

Electra waved to her mother, then followed him to a larger house among the trees. This was neatly painted below, and neatly thatched above, and breadfruit and honeybun trees grew beside it, as well as—

“Are those chocolate milkweeds?” she asked, her mouth watering.

“The Sorceress thought you might like them,” the old man said.

Now Electra knew she was going to like the Sorceress!

The old man knocked on the door. “Come in, and welcome!” a cheery old voice called.

He opened the door, and they stepped in. Inside was a large and bright room, with a single huge tapestry across one wall. Electra glanced at it, glanced away—and looked back. The tapestry had a number of pictures on it, in the fashion of a mural, and each one was moving. This was another magic picture!

“Do you like my handiwork, child?” the voice inquired from the side.

Electra looked toward the voice. There was an ancient little woman, with wrinkled skin and wild white hair. “Oh, yes, Sorceress!” she exclaimed.

“Call me Tapis, for we shall be friends,” the Sorceress said. “Come sit with me, and we shall talk.” She gestured to a stool.

Electra went and sat on the stool. “Thank you, Tapis,” she said contritely. “Please, could you tell me what you want of me?”

"Why of course, Electra. But first—would you like some refreshment?''

“Let me get it!” Electra said, jumping up.

The Sorceress smiled. “Did you suppose I wanted you for a servant girl?”

“Well, yes, of course. I—”

“Not so, child. You are to be an associate.” The Sorceress snapped her fingers.

A young woman appeared. She seemed to be about fourteen, and was coming into a loveliness that even a child could appreciate. Electra felt a tinge of jealousy for the beauty that she knew she could never aspire to achieve, no matter bow old she ever got. “You snapped, mistress?”

“Fetch us two pods of chocolate milk, if you please, and one for yourself, Millie.”

Millie departed without a word. In a moment she was back with three pods from the milkweeds outside. She gave one to the Sorceress and one to Electra. Then she gave them straws she had plucked from the straw growing nearby, and retreated to have her own.

The Sorceress poked her straw into her pod, and Electra did likewise. They drank their chocolate milk together. It was delicious. Then Millie took away the spent pods, and they talked.

“As you know, I am a Sorceress,” Tapis said. “That does not mean that I am either good or evil, merely that I have great power of magic. But as you can see, I am old, and in a few more years my time in Xanth will be done. I have made many magic tapestries in my career, such as the one that brought you here, and I am well satisfied with them. The last and greatest is the Historical Tapestry you see here, which shows both the present and the past episodes of Xanth, as tuned in by those whom it respects. I intend to make a gift of this to the Zombie Master—”

“The Zombie Master!” Electra exclaimed, horrified.

The Sorceress smiled again. “Do not judge a person by his talent, dear. Jonathan is a fine and able man, with a unique and potent talent. It is unfortunate that the nature of that talent discourages others, and makes him lonely. Upon occasion I step through a tapestry to have a meal with him, but of course I am not the kind of woman he needs.”

“He needs a zombie!” Electra exclaimed.

“No, be needs a living woman who can tolerate the zombies. A woman like Millie, except that she is as yet too young. She has a special effect on men.” She shrugged, perhaps ruefully. “At any rate, I shall give him the tapestry, but I fear he will be too generous to accept it. How do you suppose I should go about this?”

“Maybe if it didn't look quite so fancy,” Electra said, frowning in concentration. “If he thought it was just a little gift, like a picture puzzle or something, a token—”

“Wonderful!” the Sorceress exclaimed, delighted. “Already you are helping me. I shall have it cut into a jigsaw puzzle, that he must assemble before he realizes its nature. By then it will be too late for him to refuse.”

Electra knew that she had not suggested more than the obvious; still she was pleased with the Sorceress1 reaction.

“But of course you are wondering how I would like to use your talent,” the Sorceress continued. “To do that, I must explain something about myself, dull as that may be.”

“You don't seem dull to me, Sor—Tapis,” Electra said. “All that magic—”

“Thank you, dear. But I am, after all, an old woman, whose sunset is approaching. It is my desire to conclude my life by accomplishing what is most needful. In this manner I hope to make up for what has been a somewhat indulgent existence. Unfortunately, I do not know where or in what manner my greatest impact can be made. This is where I need your help.”

“But I don't know that!” Electra protested. “I'm only a child, and—”

“You are a child with a special talent,” the Sorceress said. “You are electrical; this is magic seldom seen outside of Mundania or in thunderstorms.”

“Yes, I shock people, when they bother me too much,” Electra said. “But then it takes me another day to recharge. I feel sort of drained until I do. So I don't shock people unless I really have to.”

“Of course, dear. But you are using your talent wastefully. I shall show you how to make the magic device I need. It is called the Heaven Cent.”

“Heavens to what?”

“The Heaven Cent. It is a disk made of copper, with a very special property. It sends the invoker to the situation in which he or she is most needed.”

“I don't know how to do that!”

“You do not need to, dear. With your magic, properly modulated, we can fashion the Heaven Cent, and it will then do what it does. I shall use it to take myself to the site of my greatest potential service, and I shall perform that service before I expire. That is my concluding ambition, and the reason I asked you to come here.”

“Oooo,” Electra said, impressed.

The following three years were wonderful. Electra had simply to carry the copper cent with her, on a chain at her neck, and to avoid shocking anyone. The cent was in a bag that contained magic ingredients which her magic caused to mix and coat it; the complicated term the Sorceress used was “electroplating.” Actually it was “Electra-plating,” but she was not about to correct the Sorceress on the pronunciation of her name in this connection. Meanwhile she had a remarkably easy life. Millie the maid and the old man were fine company, and the Sorceress was always pleasant. Electra had all the chocolate milk and raspberry pies she could eat; had she not been a growing girl, she might have gotten fat. She was allowed to use the picture tapestry to visit her home whenever she wished, or any other place in Xanth that the pictures showed on different days.

But mostly she just walked the sands of the nice beach of the Isle of View, so called because the sorceress made views of all kinds here, in her tapestries. The bad monsters had been driven away, so it was safe; Electra could see them in the deeper sea or on the mainland across the bay, but they never came to the isle. She also talked with the Sorceress, who was happy to converse while her old hands tirelessly performed her weaving. She had a special tree whose branches held the warp and woof, and she passed her shuttle back and forth, using enchanted thread, so that the picture slowly formed. It was fascinating.

Then a Princess came to call. She was about twenty years old, and astonishingly beautiful. She was, it developed, fated to bite into an apple, which she carried with her in an ornate little case, and it would put her into a deep sleep for a thousand years. She had also with her a nice, secure coffin, with a plush silken lining and a soft pillow,  that would keep her secure while she slept. At the expiration of the alotted time, a handsome young Prince would discover her, and wake her with a kiss. Then she would get up and marry him, and live happily ever after. She looked forward to the prospect, for she had found no suitable prince in this time.

She had come to the Sorceress because she lacked a suitable coverlet. She was concerned that she would be a trifle cool during the long thousand years, so a nice warm coverlet seemed appropriate. It could not, of course, be just any cloth; she was a princess, and had to be covered accordingly. What would the Prince think, if he found her covered by just any old rag? So she required the very best, and that was the kind that only the Sorceress Tapis could make.