Two To The Fifth (26 page)

“Ragna Roc!” he said. “He deleted your people.”

“He did. We rejected his request that we winged monsters join him in taking over the Land of Xanth. He did not take it well, as you can see. And if they are ever to be restored, it will be only by dint of my effort. I must recruit for him something equivalent in value. Then, perhaps, he will deign to give me back my beloved, and perhaps also my people. Now you understand the essence of my situation.”

“I do,” Cyrus agreed, touched. “But I am just a Playwright with a Troupe. We put on plays. We're not anything special apart from that.” He was getting used to that lie, though it still made him uneasy.

“But you see, you are special,” she insisted. “First, we are desperate for entertainment, especially since the curse fiends blacklisted us. Second, I suspect the Roc gets bored at times, and might well appreciate some plays. If I can bring them to him—” She shrugged. “It just possibly might be enough.”

“How is it that you are here in a human village, uh, city? Instead of with the dragonflies?”

“Not by my choice. The roc assigned me here, because among other things I have experience governing. I don't like it, and the villagers don't like it, but we all understand that if we don't play along, all of us will be deleted. So we do what we have to do.” She mopped up another tear. “And I must say, the Roc is not a harsh master. All he requires is our fealty, and that we do anything he asks. It is power he is after, not misery for his subjects.”

“I don't see how you can persuade me or my troupe to welcome being deleted, as you put it.”

“You won't be deleted if you swear fealty. You may not be deleted if you don't; it depends on whether the Roc wants your service. At the moment his attention is elsewhere, and we are idle. But I can't stand to wait any longer than I have to, to get my King and people back.”

Now Cyrus really appreciated her position. But it didn't make him want to cooperate. “I think I just want to get out of here and hide from the Roc.”

“You can't hide,” she assured him. “I serve him reluctantly, but I do serve him. I will send word to him who you are, what you do, and where you go. Please don't make me do that.”

He was sure she was serious, as he would be if Rhythm got deleted and he had to do something to save her. Could he escape the Dragonfly Queen by canceling her memory of him? Probably not, because she now had a half slew of related memories, while his talent was strictly one spot memory. So what could he do?

He realized that he might not have to do anything, because Rhythm had taken advantage of the opportunity to get away and report to the troupe, and she was not about to leave him in the arms of a glamorous queen. All he had to do was wait, and hope for the best.

Andromeda feted him nicely enough, then took him out to see where the troupe was camped. They had made a nice spot in a vacant lot near the center of the village, and the tents were pitched there.

Bonita hurried up, “Elder, they wouldn't accept hospitality in our houses. They said they insisted on staying together, and that their tents were good enough.”

“That is true,” Cyrus said quickly. He could well understand why the troupe members didn't want to get separated from each other in strange homes. “We are accustomed to doing for ourselves, and averse to being governed by others.” The inhabitants of this city should really understand that, “All we need is space.”

“As you wish,” Andromeda said.

Curtis spied them and came forward, accompanied by Crabapple in an arm-concealing toga, “This is Curtis Curse Friend, our Producer,” Cyrus said.

“Pleased to meet you, Elder.” Curtis said with studied insincerity.

“And his companion, Crabapple.”

“Charmed, I'm sure,” Crabapple said, nicely emulating Curtis's tone.

Then the Witch, Dusti, Acro, and Xina came out. “I'm so glad you're safe, dear,” the Witch said, kissing him on the cheek.

“I can hardly wait to get you back in my bed,” Dusti said, kissing his other cheek.

“It's hard for me to sleep without you by my side,” Acro said, kissing his forehead.

“There just isn't any other man like you,” Xina said, kissing his mouth.

Cyrus was nonplussed, perhaps even nonminused. Why were they coming on to him so obviously? Then he saw Rhythm standing in the background. She had somehow put them up to it, so that Andromeda would not know his real interest. They were cooperating with enthusiasm. It wasn't anything personal at this stage; they just liked teasing men.

Then Rhythm's thought came to him, I told them to make a pretense of interest in you. They asked “pretense”?

Just so. Because if Andromeda discovered his actual beloved, she might report her to the Roc to become a hostage.

Exactly.

Andromeda was unfazed, “Will you be able to present your first play tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Cyrus said. “This is our business.”

“Then it seems that things are in order. We can now return to my abode.”

And Cyrus had to accompany her. Her situation might be desperate, but she had effective control over him for the time being.

As evening came, back at the house, Andromeda made her next move. “I think that none of those women are yours. They are all actresses.”

“They are,” he agreed cautiously.

“Yet you do love somebody, as do I. Understanding that our liaison is temporary, why not appreciate it? I have been uncomfortably lonely since losing Perseus.”

He did not like this. “What are you suggesting?”

“That we night together. I will pretend you are Perseus, though you are not the shadow of a man he is, and you may pretend I am your anonymous girlfriend, who I think is not the shadow of me. We may thus have some pleasure of each other.”

He started to protest the derogation of his beloved, but caught himself. Andromeda was trying to make him inadvertently identify her. “That is surely the case,” he agreed.

She glanced at him, a quarter smile hovering near her mouth. “You are not stupid, at least. I like that.” She led him to the bed.

“I really am not ready to—” he began.

She lay voluptuously nude against him, her wings folded fiat against her back and evidently crush-proof, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said uncertainly.

She kissed him. There seemed to be an explosion of mixed hearts and flying storks. “Really?”

“Really,” he agreed, but it was an obvious lie. This woman was as bad a tease as any actress.

“Let's be practical,” she said. “We each want something of the other. I want to persuade you to swear fealty to the Roc. You want something of me, or you would not have come here, knowing the danger posed by the Roc. I will accommodate you in any way I can, that does not betray my mission. What do you really want?”

And he did want something: to ascertain the limits of the power of Ragna Roc, But he couldn't ask that, lest he give away his mission. So he temporized: “I fear the Roc, and wish I knew how to stop him, I don't want all of Xanth to fall under his sway.”

She shook her head. “Nobody does, Cyrus. But it isn't as if we have a choice. The best we can do is cooperate and gain preferential treatment for ourselves.”

“Then I guess there's nothing I can ask of you.”

“That's too bad. Well, let's get down to business.” She kissed him again, potently.

Cyrus tried to struggle, emotionally, but short of scrambling out of the bed and out of her house, he knew there was no way to escape her. She was too experienced and too determined.

“I'm not going to swear fealty,” he gasped.

“Not even if I do this?” She did something that not even the grown Rhythm had done, and it turned him on unbearably.

“No,” he said faintly.

“Or this?” She did something else. It was so naughty he could hardly imagine it. Any more of this, and he was lost.

“I—” he said, unable to field a reasonable protest.

Then something changed. It was dark, so he could not see her face, but there was a difference in her manner, “What is going on here, Cyrus?” she asked.

He recognized the voice. “Rhythm!”

“Bleep! Quick, make her forget that name!”

He did, striking into Andromeda's memory with his talent. She would not forget the episode, but she would at least lose the name. “How did you—?”

“It's a talent,” she said, “Taking over a body. For a while.”

“You know I was trying to resist her,” he said. “But she's got such a body, and she was using it so well.”

Her hands felt his hot body. “So I gather. Well, let's get on with it.”

“But you—aren't eligible.”

“But this body is.” She kissed him, and it was Rhythm's kiss.

He could resist no more. An internal dam broke, and he clasped her to him and kissed her passionately. “Oh, anonymous, I love you!”

“And I love you,” she said, kissing him back.

After they had severely battered the ellipsis, she eased off. “I must leave you. But it was fun.”

“It was awesome!”

She was gone. He felt the change.

“What just happened?” Andromeda asked.

How could he explain it? “You don't know?”

“Someone just took over my body and made wild love to you. It must have been your lover.”

She had nailed it. “Yes.” How angry would she be?

“So that's her talent: occupying the bodies of other women. Does she do that often?”

Did Rhythm's changes to age twenty-two count? “I can't exactly say.”

“Does she ever do this in her own form?”

“No.”

“That's interesting. She must be very ugly.”

She was still probing. “Maybe,” he agreed.

“Well, she certainly wore me out. Good night.” She dropped off to sleep.

Just like that! But of course she was a dragonfly; they rested often and briefly. Relieved, he relaxed and slept also.

In the morning, she remembered. “That is some girlfriend you have. No wonder you're not free to identify her. But you did speak her name.”

“Did I?”

“But I can't remember it, oddly. I am normally excellent with names.”

“That's too bad,” he said, relieved on at least two counts: she couldn't remember the name, and she seemed not to be angry.

“You may be more of a challenge than I anticipated,” she said, getting up nude and stretching her arms and wings. She was a beautiful specimen. Fortunately she seemed not to be amorous in the morning.

She let him rejoin the troupe to organize for the evening play. “But you will be with me again tonight,” she warned him. “Maybe this time I'll identify your mysterious girlfriend.”

He certainly hoped not. He stayed studiously away from Rhythm, knowing how dangerous it could be if Andromeda ever identified her. Rhythm, understanding perfectly, cooperated.

The first play, “The Curse,” was a success. The villagers really were starved for entertainment, and loved it. They applauded heartily. Their original unfriendliness faded.

“That actress,” Andromeda said that night, “Could she use other bodies to come to you because of the awkwardness of her pincers?”

“Maybe.”

She sighed. “So it's not her.”

Then Rhythm took over “No, not her,” she agreed with Andromeda's mouth. “She's too pretty.”

“Obviously you're not,” Andromeda replied in her own voice.

“You're talking to each other?” Cyrus asked, amazed.

“She sees I'm not angry, merely intrigued,” Andromeda said, “So she lets me have some freedom. This way, not only do I get your passion, but technically I'm not being unfaithful to my husband. That's a fair deal.”

“I'm not sure there should be any deal. This is weird.”

“Really?” they said together, and tackled him.

After the horrendous ellipsis, Rhythm departed. “I think I like her, whoever she is.” Andromeda said, “Is she a member of your troupe?”

“I'm not telling.”

“So she is.” The Dragonfly Queen was entirely too apt at reading his responses.

After she fell asleep, Cyrus had an awful thought. How old was Rhythm physically for these sessions? Was she invoking the Decade spell? Or was she really participating as a child? Somehow he hadn't thought it through before.

He decided not to ask. After all, as she had said, Andromeda's body was adult. It was like the Decade spell in that respect.

The second play, “The Dream,” was also well received. And it gave Andromeda another idea. “Could she be the dragon!” she exclaimed. “That really makes sense.”

Cyrus said nothing, hoping she would take it as confirmation.

“Almost too much sense,” she concluded. “Why would you reveal it in a play, if you wanted the liaison secret?”

Oh, well.

The villagers liked the third play also. “Tomorrow we must let you go,” Andromeda said regretfully that night. “I can see you are not a prospective convert.”

“You're giving up?” Cyrus asked, surprised.

“Your girlfriend will not give you up, or allow you to join the Roc,” she said. “I can feel it in her nature when she possesses me. All I can do is whisper one last private plea.” She put her mouth to his ear.

“That's not necessary,” he said.

“Get out of here, you and your troupe, quickly,” she whispered urgently. “Lest you suffer our fate. You are decent folk. Please don't betray my confidence.” Then she kissed his ear.

“Uh—” he said.

She drew back, smiling sunnily, “Isn't that persuasive? I am bound to do my best to enlist you in our cause.”

She was a nice person herself. She had whispered the truth, and the Roc would surely delete her if he knew. “You are extremely persuasive,” he agreed, kissing her. “If it were solely up to me, I would do what you say.”

She sighed. “Well, I tried.” She looked around. “Where is your woman?”

“She hasn't come to you?”

“No. I remain myself.”

They were in bed together, both bare. “You could have faked it.” he said. “I might not have realized.”

“I wouldn't do that.”

“Oh, Andromeda, I think you're a fine woman, and I will help you any way I can. But this—”

“I understand. You can't help me.”

“I don't think I could resist you, if—”

“There's a peculiar ethic. Let's sleep.”

“Of course,” he agreed faintly.