Two To The Fifth (23 page)

Piper shook her head. “Trees were never like this.”

“Neither were machines,” Don said.

Cyrus tuned them out. Piper and the donkey seemed to be all right.

Rhythm woke with a start. “Oh. I have reverted!”

She had, for more than an hour had passed. “Nothing happened,” Cyrus reassured her.

“That's good. Or is it?”

“It's good,” he said, “You were upset.”

“That I remember I was a bad girl, all nasty and jealous.”

“You were a good girl, all contrite and gentle.”

She gazed at him, knowing better “You're so sweet.”

He didn't argue.

Next day Piper and Don came to the state of Miss. Every resident was female, single, and fouled up. They had, it seemed, run afoul of Miss Adventure, who caused them to have the bad luck to get diverted into this territory. When they asked directions to get back on track, their informant turned out to be Miss Direct, who gave them the wrong information. The one they tried to explain their situation to turned out to be Miss Believe, who refused to accept anything they said. Then a new woman forgot anything they told her before she could help; she turned out to be Miss Remember. Miss Anthrope refused to talk to them at all. Miss Place couldn't find anything.

Finally Piper and Don both shut their eyes and forged on blindly, paying no attention to any of the women. That was the key; soon they blundered out of that region and were back on track.

Piper relaxed by pausing to drink a hot cup of dark liquid. And burst into a fit of coughing. She had accidentally taken coughee.

As her vision cleared, she found herself in another section of madness. This one had a sign: PARODY PUNS. She quailed, but the only way out was straight through. Thus they passed by a bird with fancy tailfeathers: a P-Cock. Another creature insisted on peering at them from behind a bush: a P-Ping. Another was a nut in the shape of a P: a P-Nut.

“We've got to get out of here,” she said, irritated.

“You're getting P-vish,” Don said.

She kicked him in the flank.

Cyrus shook his head. He had not meant to send the poor girl into such a mess. But she was managing adequately.

Or was she? “Mischief coming up,” Don warned him.

“How do you know?”

“I have excellent distance vision. There's a bad sign.”

“A bad sign? Since when do you believe in signs?”

“Stay tuned.”

So Cyrus did.

Finally they came to a village. “I'm hugely relieved,” Piper said. “The gruesome puns have worn me out.” Dusty had stayed largely clear, but he seemed tired too.

Only Don remained as ever, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but puns only disgust me.” He reconsidered. “Actually, I'll eat the sticks, and my bones are iron. So that part's not true.”

Piper laughed. “It must be nice, being a robot,” she remarked as they approached the village sign, “No emotions. You can't get upset.”

“I'm learning emotions,” Don said, “By studying you, I file each one in my data bank for future reference. For example, disgust is an emotion.”

“Oh! I fear I'm a bad model. Too girlish.”

“No, you have obvious emotions. That helps.”

They paused at the sign, UNWELCOME.

“They can't mean that!” Piper said with spot despair.

Dusty compacted to his devil form and peered at the sign, “There's small print.” he announced. “It says if you are uninvited and unexpected, you are also unwelcome.”

“But it's too late to find another village!” Piper wailed emotionally.

“So we will stay here tonight,” Don said. “There must be a hostel.”

“We already know they're hostile.”

“I meant a place to stay.”

They walked into the village. From almost every window unfriendly glances speared out. The sign by the village hotel said hostile, confirming Piper's understanding. That wasn't the same.

Don's keen eyes spotted a woman sitting on her porch. She looked nice. “Try her,” Don suggested, stopping outside that house.

Piper dismounted and approached the woman. “Hello. I'm Piper. We need a place to stay tonight.”

The woman smiled. “I am Shaunna, You are welcome to stay here. But you may not want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not popular in this town.”

“The town of Unwelcome?”

“Yes. I tend to welcome people. That's contrary to the spirit of the village.”

“We'll stay here,” Piper said.

“As you wish.” Shaunna got up and opened her door.

“What about Don Donkey?”

“I have a grass garden in my backyard.”

“Any dry wood?” Don asked.

“You talk!” Shaunna said, startled.

“I'm a robot donkey, I have a robot talk box.”

“A robot! So then you don't eat grass.”

“I burn wood.”

“I do have some dry sticks. You are welcome to them.”

“I prefer to stay with Piper.”

“You can come inside with her. And you also, of course, mister—”

“Dusty.”

“Yes, I'm not surprised. It's a dusty landscape out there.”

“Dusty Dust Devil,” he clarified, briefly swirling into his other shape.

“Oh!” she said, laughing. “That's clever.”

But the neighbors were scowling. “She should be burned out,” one said grimly.

“Yeah?” Dusty demanded, starting to swirl again.

“Don't be concerned,” Shaunna said quickly. “They won't do anything.”

“They won't?” Don asked. “They look pretty determined mean to me.”

“My talent is the Seldom Scene,” she explained. “When I invoke it, as I do every night, they can't locate my house.” She made a gesture. Nothing happened.

But the nasty neighbor seemed to lose his way. He looked all around except at the house. Then he departed, disgruntled.

“I don't understand.” Piper said. “We are plainly visible.”

“No. We can see out, but they can't see in. The scene is gone, for them. Even though they know the house is still here, they just can't find it. It keeps me safe when I sleep.”

Shaunna served Piper and Dusty a nice meal, and brought in her dry sticks for Don. “I like this woman,” Don remarked privately to Cyrus.

“You're really nice,” Dusty said.

Shaunna laid her hand on his, “It's nice to be appreciated.”

Cyrus, looking through the donkey's eyes, saw how thrilled the dust devil was with that touch.

“I have an idea,” Piper said. “I am scouting for a play troupe. We need villages to watch our plays. I don't think this one will be interested.”

“It won't be,” Shaunna agreed.

“But your talent—it could really help. You see, the stage and scenery needs to be set up, and the actors have to get their costumes on, without people looking. You could hide them, until playtime.”

“It would really help,” Dusty said eagerly.

“I suppose I could,” Shaunna agreed.

“So why don't you come with us? I'll return to the troupe once I get enough villages lined up. Then you could travel with us. I know the others will like you.”

“But you can't do that on your own,” Shaunna protested. “Your director might not like it.”

Piper smiled. “Let's find out. Don?”

“Bring her,” Cyrus said immediately, “We can certainly use her talent.”

“It's okay,” Don said.

“But how could you know?” Shaunna asked.

“I am in contact,” Don said.

“He is,” Piper agreed. “You can come, if you want to.”

“Oh, I want to! I don't like living here, but I had nowhere else to go.”

“Then it's decided,” Piper said.

In the morning they resumed their trek, and Shaunna came along. As they left the village, Don looked back. There was a column of smoke. The villagers were burning Shaunna's house, now that it wasn't protected by the spell.

“Bleep!” Cyrus swore, observing. “I wish I could burn the rest of them down.”

Rhythm put a hand on his arm. “Don't be childishly vindictive. That's my prerogative.”

He had to smile. “But it will be good to have Shaunna with us.”

“You have a play to write,” Melete reminded him.

So he did. Rhythm disappeared, and he sat down at his desk. The play was titled “The Riddle,” and it concerned Good Magician Humfrey and his five and a half wives. He had most of his cast; all he lacked was a suitable story.

Well, there would have to be a problem only the Good Magician personally could handle. But for some reason he would not be able to handle it. Why? What could the Magician of Information not know? That was verging on a paradox.

Cyrus laid down his quill and got up. “I need to ponder,” he said.

“All writers do,” Melete agreed.

Vaguely annoyed by her lack of inspiration, he left her on the table and left the tent. Maybe a walk around the area would help.

A cloud of smoke formed before him. “We need to blurt,” it said.

“To what, Metria?” he asked tiredly.

“Babble, blab, blather, ballyhoo, buzz—”

“Talk?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly. “You didn't even let me get out of the Bs. There's a slew and a half more words to go, like chat, dither—”

“What's your concern, demoness?”

“That part is boring.”

“You don't like kissing Tuff?”

“Oh, that was fun for one rehearsal. Making the Witch mad was fun for another. But now it's dull. I want to be on my way, stirring up mischief elsewhere.”

“Metria, we need you for the next play. To play Humfrey's demon wife.”

“Dara Demoness,” she agreed. “I've known her for centuries. I can't rile her, she knows all my tricks.”

Cyrus sighed. “If you are determined to leave us in the lurch. I can't prevent you. But I hope your half soul gives you half a guilty conscience.”

“It will,” she said. “Buy.”

“That's 'bye,” ' he said. But she had already dissipated.

Cyrus stopped himself from smiling, lest she still be watching. He could find another actress for the role of Avatar in “The Dream.” and another for the role of Dara in “The Riddle.” Meanwhile he was rid of Metria, who was really more trouble than she was worth. But it was essential that she not know that, lest she change her mind about leaving.

He still lacked a story, so tuned in on Don Donkey as he walked.

Piper was riding, with Shaunna riding behind her. Don was strong enough to carry any number of maidens who could fit on his back. It was a fine day, and the two were chatting idly as Dusty swirled ahead in his whirlwind form.

Then the dust devil returned and formed his devil shape. “There's something funny ahead, on a bypath.”

“Funny hee-hee or funny odd?” Piper asked.

“Funny odd. It's a demoness crying.”

“Now that is odd,” Shaunna agreed.

“It's worse than odd,” Don said. “It's weird. Demons have no souls, therefore no conscience. They don't get sad, they get mad.”

“So we'd better investigate,” Piper said.

The others didn't argue. They walked on. Dusty leading them to the bypath, which was plainly labeled BYPATH.

The demoness was there, still sobbing. They came up and stopped. The women dismounted.

“Pardon me,” Piper said.

The demoness jumped, puffing into foul-smelling smoke. “Oh! You startled me,” the smoke puffed. “I thought I was alone. I come here every day to cry for a few hours.”

“You were alone,” Piper said. “We came to ask why you are so sad. Maybe it's none of our business.”

The smoke formed back into a woman. “You're a tree-nymph! What are you doing away from your tree?”

“I'm only half dryad,” Piper explained. “I'm not bound to a tree, though maybe some day I'll adopt one. I am Piper Nymph. My mother married a mortal man.”

“You're a half-breed!”

Piper bridled. “You have a problem with that?”

“No, not at all. I'm a half-breed myself. I am D Kay, a zombie demoness.”

“Your parents—that must have been some romance!”

“More like a disaster in a love spring.” Kay looked at Piper. “Do you have a problem deciding which heritage to honor? Human or dryad?”

“Yes, actually. So I'm out traveling, trying to make up my mind.”

“That's my problem. My demon father doesn't want anything to do with me, and my zombie mother—well, her mind isn't very good, because of too much rot, and she sometimes forgets I exist.”

“So you don't know who to associate with,” Piper said, “I understand perfectly.”

“Yes. So I try to fly with the demons, but they leave me behind. So I try to settle down in the local zombie village, but they don't much tike demons. So I don't know where to go.”

“Bring her here,” Cyrus told Don. “We need a demoness actress.”

“Ask her to join the troupe,” Don murmured in turn to Piper. “They need her.”

“I'm with a troupe,” Piper said. “We put on plays. In fact I'm promised a small part in the next one. They need a demoness. Why don't you join?”

“I'm a zombie demoness,” Kay reminded hen “I can't do all the things demons do, and I tend to stink. I don't think your troupe would want me, though I'd love to be an actress.”

“We want her,” Cyrus told Don. Don nodded his head to Piper.

“We can handle the smell,” Piper said. “As long as you can remember your lines, and have the discipline to keep rehearsing.”

Kay broke down in tears again.

“I didn't mean to make you sad,” Piper said, alarmed.

“These are tears of happiness,” Kay said. “You have given me reason to live. That's not something either demons or zombies find very often.”

“Then come with us,” Piper said.

“Gladly,” Kay sobbed, smiling. Several of her teeth were bad, but she looked relatively ok.

Someone touched Cyrus's shoulder. It was Rhythm. “Is she joining?”

“You used magic!” he exclaimed. “To get a replacement for Metria.”

“Well, I wanted someone who wouldn't try to seduce you in a play,” she confessed.

“No zombie demoness will seduce me in a play,” he promised. He looked around. “Are we alone? Is it safe to kiss you?”

“It is never safe to kiss me,” she retorted, kissing him.

She was absolutely correct, unfortunately. Eventually there was bound to be a serious reckoning. But he loved her, regardless.

Piper, Dusty, Don, Shaunna, and D Kay went on to the zombie village, “I never realized zombies had villages,” Piper confided to the others.

“It's on the map,” Don reminded her. “Zombies can do whatever they want.”

Piper checked. “So it is. I guess I wasn't paying proper attention.”

They went to the center of the village. All around them zombies were doing zombie things: smearing rot on vegetables, mold on walls, slime on old bread, and scum on water. Soaking new clothing in acid mud to make it deteriorate until a respectable zombie could wear it. Coating newly harvested shoes from a shoe tree with stale sweat to break them in.

“Actually, zombies are not bad folk,” Kay said wistfully. “They're always willing to lend a hand, they never give anyone any lip, but they do go to pieces on you.”

Just so. “Hello,” Piper called. “I represent a troupe that puts on plays. Would you like to have us stop and do a play here?”

An old zombie man shambled up. “Any zombie actorrz?” he asked, spitting out a decayed tooth.

“Yes. One.”

“Okaay.” He returned to his business of scraping muck onto his porch.

“One presentation site signed up,” Don said.

For some reason they did not dawdle at Zombie Village. They walked on out and headed for the next village on the map. This was a normal human one, they hoped.

It was. But there was a hitch. “Is this a curse fiend play troupe?” the Village Elder asked.

“Not exactly,” Piper confessed. “It's a new amateur group, produced by a curse friend, yet to prove itself.”

“Curse what?”

“Curse friend. They're not really fiends.”

He nodded. “So you really do have contact with them.”

“Yes.” Piper wasn't sure whether this was good or bad, for this village.

“We'll try it, not expecting much.”

Don marked another presentation site.

The next was a robot village, Rolando. Cyrus was surprised as he looked through Don's eyes: all the robots were humanoid, about the size of his father Roland, and looking similar. How far did the resemblance go?

This time Don did the talking, “You folk look like a robot I know,” he said. “His name is Roland.”

“We know of Roland,” they said in chorus, “Our programs derived from his. We are all barbarians, and we all love anyone named Hannah.”

Cyrus shook his head. That program should have been modified. He would have to talk to his father when he returned.

Don plowed gamely on. “Do you like romance?”

“We are all very romantic,” they agreed.

“Some of our plays have romances.”

“We'll watch them!” they chorused.

Don chalked up another site.

There followed several more human villages, all of which were interested. Then they came to a village of gnomes. Would they have any interest in human plays?

The map said this was gnobody, home of the Gnobody Gnomes. They were in Don's data bank, listed as largely unknown for some reason. They were a grumpy sort, seldom associating with humans, so this was a poor prospect. But they had to ask anyway.

“May I talk to your leader?” Piper inquired.

“We have no leader,” a lowly gnome replied. He was only about half her height.

“Then may I talk to you? I am Piper Nymph.”

The little man shrugged. “If you insist. I am Gnonentity Gnome. What do you want?”

“I represent a touring troupe. We are putting on plays, and would like to have places to present them. Would you be interested?”

“Why would anyone ever want to put on a play here? We are strictly a gnothing village of gno significance whatever.”

“We just would like to have appreciative audiences.”

“The only thing we appreciate is gnotoriety, because we have gnone.”

That gave Piper an idea. “Don, ask Cyrus: does he have an actor to play the male lead in his next play? The one about Magician Humfrey?”

“A gnome!” Cyrus exclaimed. “He would be perfect!” Because Magician Humfrey was sort of like a gnome, being small and grumpy.

“Go for it,” Don told her.

“Gnonentity, how would your villagers like it if one of you played a lead role in a play?”

Now the other gnomes gathered around them. “But that would be significant,” Gnonentity said. “Gno one would ever grant us that.”

“We would,” Piper said, “We need an actor to play the Good Magician Humfrey.”

The gnomes looked at each other, awed. “Who among us?” Gnonentity asked.

“You, if you want. Come with us, and when we loop back to our troupe, you will be given the part and have to learn the lines. We'll put on a play here, in due course, so all of you can see it's true.”

They were amazed, and hardly believing, but decided to find out. And so Gnonentity Gnome joined the group.

“That girl is good,” Cyrus said, “Not only is she lining up villages, she's recruiting actors we need.”

“Just don't get hung up on her,” Rhythm said.

“Rhythm—”

“I was joking. Some. You're right: she's a good girl.”

Cyrus accepted that. But privately he was bothered. Rhythm was getting jealous without reason.

“I know it,” she said. “I'm trying to do better. Honest I am.”

Bleep that mind reading!

“Bleep,” she echoed.

Piper completed her circuit of villages, signing up halfway between a fair number and a goodly number for play sites. Her party rejoined the troupe in good order.

But there was one thing that concerned her. “Cyrus, I avoided a section, though it was on the map,” she said. “Did I do the right thing?”

This surprised him. Maybe he hadn't been watching closely enough, “What did you avoid?”

“The section where the Villages became Cities.”

“They did that?”

“Yes. Here.” She pointed to a region on the map.

“Necess Village?”

“On the map,” she said. “But the sign says Necess City. The same for the Villages of Adver, Pompos, Elasti and Verbo. They all claim to be cities now, though they still look like villages. That made me nervous for some reason, and I avoided them.”

“That is curious,” he agreed, “You did right to be cautious, I'll investigate.”

“That's good,” she said, evidently relieved. “Now you must meet the people I collected for parts. Don said you said it was all right.”

“By all means,” he agreed, “You did an excellent job, Piper.”

She blushed. Girls were good at that, “Thank you.”

They went outside where the others waited, “Hello,” Cyrus said. “I am Cyrus Cyborg, the Playwright.”

“Gnonentity Gnome,” the gnome said gruffly.

“Yes. You will play the part of the Good Magician. You seem to be perfect for that role.”

The little man did what seemed to be a rare thing for his kind: he smiled. Perhaps he had feared that the part would not actually be granted.

“D Kay,” the zombie demoness said.

“And you will be Dara Demoness, the Good Magician's first wife.”

She, too, relaxed, reassured.

“And I am Shaunna,” the third new person said.

“We'll rehearse with the Seldom Scene,” Cyrus said, “It promises to be really useful to protect our privacy in different villages. Thank you for joining us.”

“You are more than welcome.”

Cyrus turned to Piper, “And you will play MareAnn, Humfrey's half-wife, the one who likes horses.”

Piper fainted.

Fortunately Cyrus's cyborg reflexes enabled him to catch her before she fell. Had she thought he would not keep his promise?

“She's a good girl,” Gnonentity said grudgingly.

“She deserves a good role,” Kay agreed.

After a moment and a bit Piper revived. “Thank you,” she said faintly.

He set her back on her feet. “Go and get a good night's rest. Tomorrow we start rehearsals.”

Dazed, she departed.

Curtis appeared. “I will see to the accommodations for the new actors,” he said.

When Cyrus was alone in his tent, he murmured one word. “Rhythm.”

She appeared, “Already?” She brought out the Decade spell.

“Not yet. There's something else. Piper discovered that several villages have become cities, at least by their signs. That made her nervous, and she avoided them. I think she was right to be cautious. Can you check this?”

“Be right back,” she agreed. She vanished.

Cyrus focused on the play. He had finally gotten it written, with Melete's help and prodding, and had distributed copies to the actors. The three newest ones would have some catching up to do, but the others would help them, and fluffs didn't matter so much in early rehearsals. He had done his best, and Melete approved of it, but he remained nervous about its reception. It was always thus, when a play was fresh.

“It's your artistic temperament,” Melete said. “Perfectly normal.”

Rhythm returned. “This is bad,” she said grimly.

“Name changes are bad?”

“Those villages are now in territory controlled by Ragna Roc. He changed their names, maybe so he could keep track of his land conquests.”

“Ragna Roc,” he repeated. “Has he caught on to us?”

“I don't think so. He's just marking his boundaries. I didn't look closely; I wanted to be sure nobody saw me. But it shows what we're up against.”

“How did he take over the villages? Were there battles? I wasn't aware of anything like that.”

“No signs of violence,” she said. “Maybe the villagers just decided they liked him better.”

Cyrus snorted. “Do you believe that?”

“No.”

“It certainly shows the importance of our mission.”

“Yes.”

“It makes it more immediate. Had Piper not been alert, we could have scheduled a presentation there. We might have fallen right into the power of the enemy.”

“We might,” she agreed. “Yet the people did not seem downtrodden. There's something odd about this. I should check more closely.”

“Don't go back there!”

“Cyrus, I have to,” she said seriously, “I promise I'll be careful.”

He sighed. “You're growing up. Acting with maturity. I think I preferred you carefree.”

“I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me.” She kissed him on the ear and vanished.

Which was the problem with loving a Sorceress.

He focused on last-moment adjustments to the play. Somehow there always seemed to be more tinkering to do.

Rhythm returned an hour later. “The people aren't downtrodden.” she reported. “They're being treated all right. But they are nervous. It seems that Ragna Roc's minions identified all villagers who might oppose him, and he deleted them.”

“Deleted?”

“Rendered them into illusion. Ghosts, really. There are whole houses of illusion. I mean, the house and everyone in it. You can see them, but you can't touch them; they aren't really there. They are plainly horrified.”

“The ghosts?”

“The ghosts. They know they are illusion, and they can't stand it, but they can't do anything about it. I think Ragna leaves them there as object lessons to the other villagers. If they don't behave, that will be their fate. So of course they behave. They are loyal to the big bird.”

“This is awful!”

“Yes it is. I'm horrified myself. Oh, Cyrus, we have to stop this!”

“That's our mission,” he agreed.

Then she invoked the Decade spell, and let herself cry. He held her and comforted her as well as he could. Their relationship seemed to be entering a new stage, where other emotions were becoming important, not just love or passion. That was probably good.

Next day was the first rehearsal, “We will practice with the Seldom Scene,” he said. “This will give us privacy, because no one will see us until it abates. We don't need it here, but will find it useful when we tour, so we want to be sure we have it straight. You won't notice any difference, but this whole scene will be undetectable to outsiders.”

The Witch nodded. “That will help, because we won't always be able to set up with complete privacy.”

“Now with three new members of the cast, we'll have to allow reading from the scripts. But I will expect all of you to know your parts in a few days. The prompter will help you throughout. Now take your places.” They did, and the scene faded out as Shaunna invoked her magic. “Announcer, I am your audience, this time. Proceed.”

Crabapple stepped up to face him, her back to the unseen stage. Her arms were covered; they were not needed for this. She looked like an ordinary, attractive woman, with a talent for speaking clearly.

“It is our pleasure to present the play 'The Riddle',” she said in her Announcing voice. “The opening scene is in the Good Magician's Castle, where Hell is breaking loose, figuratively.” She smiled and stepped out of the way.

Now the scene appeared, as Shaunna turned off her talent. The gnomelike Magician Humfrey hobbled onstage, wearing one sock. “Where's the other sock?” he demanded grumpily, “I can't bury myself in my famous Book of Answers with a sock missing!”

A woman hurried up, carrying a long sock. She was Dusti, with a Mundanian hat concealing her little horns. “Here it is, husband dear,” She handed it to him.

“About time, Sofia Socksorter,” he grumped, struggling to put it on. He had big feet, which made the process awkward.

“You'll never get it on that way,” another woman said. This was Xina, her modest garb masking her attributes. It had been a struggle to get the prettier actresses to understand that there were times when beauty was not the point, “Sit down and put your foot up.”

“Stop ordering me around. Maiden Taiwan,” he grumped as she kneeled to slide the sock over his foot.

“Dinner is served,” a third woman said. She was Acro Nymph, gorgeously costumed and quite pretty.

“Already?” Humfrey grumped. Then he did half a double take. “Rose of Roogna—what are you doing here?”

“Don't you remember, dear? I'm your wife.”

“I've got five and a half wives. You take monthly turns. Sofia and Taiwan are already here.” He did the other half of the take. “Both? Who is the Designated Wife of the Month?”

“I am,” the Witch said. She was heavily veiled, but shapely below.

He peered over his spectacles at hen “You are, Gorgon? Then what are these others doing here? There's supposed to be only one wife at a time.”