Centaur Aisle (10 page)

"I will consider. I daresay my wife will have a sentiment."

On cue, Millie appeared. She was as lovely as ever, despite her eight hundred and thirty-odd years of age. She was less voluptuous than the Gorgon, but still did have her talent. Dor became uncomfortable again; he had once had a crush on Millie. "Of course we shall go," Millie said. "We'll be glad to, won't we, Jonathan?"

The Zombie Master could only acquiesce solemnly. The decision had been made.

"It's time," Millie said. "The bride and groom are ready."

"The bride, perhaps," the Zombie Master said wryly. "I suspect I will have to coerce the groom." He turned to Dor. "You go down to the main chamber; the wedding guests are assembling now. They will take their places when you appear."

"Uh, sure," Dor agreed. He took the book and made his way down a winding stair. The castle layout differed from what it had been the last time he was here, but that was only to be expected. The outside defenses changed constantly, so it made sense that the inner schematic followed.

But when he reached the main chamber, Dor stood amazed. It was a grand and somber cathedral, seemingly larger than the whole of the castle, with stately columns and ornate arches supporting the domed glass ceiling. At one end was a dais whose floor appeared to be solid silver. It was surrounded by huge stained-glass windows, evidently another inner aspect of the exterior glass mountain. A jeweled chandelier supported the sun, which was a brilliantly golden ball, borrowed for this occasion. Dor had always wondered what happened to the sun when clouds blocked it off; perhaps now he knew. What would happen if they didn't finish the ceremony before the storm outside abated and the sun needed to be returned?

The guests were even more spectacular. There were hundreds of them, of all types. Some were human, some humanoid, and most were monsters. Dor spied a griffin, a dragon, a small sphinx, several merfolk in a tub of sea water, a manticora, a number of elves, goblins, harpies, and sprites; a score of nickelpedes, a swarm of fruitflies, and a needle cactus. The far door was dwarfed by its guardian—Crunch the Ogre, Smash's father, as horrendous a figure of a monster as anyone cared to imagine.

"What is this?" Dor asked, astonished.

"All the creatures who ever obtained answers from the Good Magician, or interacted significantly with him during the past century," the nearest window explained.

"But—but why?"

A grotesque bespectacled demon detached himself from conversation with a nymph. "Your Majesty, I am Beauregard, of the Nether Contingent. We are assembled here, in peace, not because we necessarily love the Good Magician, but because not one of us would pass up the chance to see him finally get impressed into bondage himself—and to the most fearsome creature known to magic. Come; you must take your place." And the demon guided Dor down the center aisle toward the dais, past as diversified an assortment of creatures as Dor had ever encountered. One he thought he recognized—Grundy the Golem, somehow spirited here for the unique occasion. How had all these creatures gotten past the castle defenses? No one had been around when Dor himself had braved them.

"Oh, you must be King Dor!" someone cried, for turned to discover a handsome woman whose gown was bedecked with a fantastic array of gems.

"You must be Jewel!" he exclaimed, as a diamond in her hair almost blinded him. It was the size of his fist, and cut in what seemed like a million facets. "The one with the barrel of gems—Crombie's wife."

"How did you ever guess?" she agreed, flashing sapphires, garnets, and giant opals. "You favor your father, Dor. So good of you to come in his stead."

Dor remembered that this woman had loved his father. Perhaps that explained why Bink wasn't here; a meeting, even after all these years, could be awkward. "Uh, I guess so. Nice to meet you, Jewel."

"I'm sorry my daughter Tandy couldn't meet you," Jewel said. "It would be so nice—" She broke off, and again Dor suspected he understood why. Jewel had loved Bink; Dor was Bink's son; Tandy was Jewel's daughter. It was almost as if Dor and Tandy were related. But how could that be said?

Jewel pressed a stone into his hand. "I was going to give this to Bink, but I think you deserve it. You will always have light."

Dor glanced down at the gift. It shone like a miniature sun, almost too bright to gaze at directly. It was a midnight sunstone, the rarest of all gems. "Uh, thanks," he said lamely. He didn't know how to deal with this sort of thing. He tucked the gem into a pocket and rejoined Beauregard, who was urging him on. As he reached the dais and mounted it, the hubbub diminished. The ceremony was incipient.

The music started, the familiar theme played only at nuptials. It gave Dor stage fright. He had never officiated at an affair like this before; the opportunities for blundering seemed limitless. The assembled creatures became absolutely quiet, waiting expectantly for the dread denouement. The Good Magician Humfrey was finally going to get his!

There was a scuffle to the side. The groom appeared in a dark suit that looked slightly motheaten; perhaps the guardian moth had not balled it properly. He was somewhat disheveled, and obliquely compelled by the Zombie Master. "I survived it; so can you!" the best man whispered, audible throughout the chamber. Somewhere in the Stygian depth of the audience, a monster chuckled. The expression on Humfrey's face suggested that he was in serious doubt about survival. More members of the audience grinned, showing assorted canine teeth; they liked this.

The music got louder. Dor glanced across and saw that the organist was a small tangle tree, its tentacles writhing expertly over the keys. No wonder there was a certain predatory intensity to the music!

The Zombie Master, dourly handsome in his funereal-tailed suit, straightened Humfrey's details, actually brushing him off with a little whisk broom. Then he put Humfrey in a kind of armlock and marched him forward. The music surged vengefully.

One demon in the front row twitched its tail and leaned toward another. "A creature doesn't know what happiness is," he said, "until he gets married."

"And then it's too late!" half a dozen others responded from the next row back. There was a smattering of applause.

Magician Humfrey quailed, but the best man's grip was as firm as death itself. At least he had not brought his zombies to this ceremony! The presence of the walking dead would have been too much even for such a wedding.

Now the music swelled to sublime urgency, and the bridal procession appeared. First came Millie the Ghost, radiant in her maid-of-honor gown, her sex appeal making the monsters drool. Dor had somehow thought that an unmarried person was supposed to fill this office, but of course Millie had been unmarried for eight centuries, so it must be all right.

Then the bride herself stepped out—and if the Gorgon had seemed buxom before, she was amazing now. She wore a veil that shrouded the nothingness of her face, so that there was no way to tell by looking that she was not simply a ravishingly voluptuous woman. Nevertheless, few creatures looked directly at her, wary of her inherent power. Not even the boldest dragon or tangle tree would care to stare the Gorgon in the face.

Behind her trooped two cherubs, a tiny boy and girl. Dor thought at first they were elves, but realized they were children—the three-year-old twins that Millie and the Zombie Master had generated. They certainly looked cute as they carried the trailing end of the bride's long train. Dor wondered whether these angelic tots had manifested their magic talents yet. Sometimes a talent showed at birth, as had Dor's own; sometimes it never showed, as had Dor's father's—though he knew his father did have some sort of magic that King Trent himself respected. Most talents were in between, showing up in the course of childhood, some major, some minor.

Slowly the Gorgon swept forward, in the renewed hush of dread and expectation. Dor saw with a small start that she had donned dark glasses, a Mundane import, so that even her eyes behind the gauzy veil seemed real.

Now at last Humfrey and the Gorgon stood together. She was taller than he—but everyone was taller than Humfrey, so it didn't matter. The music faded to the deceptive calm of the center of a storm.

The Zombie Master nodded to Dor. It was time for the King to read the service, finally tying the knot.

Dor opened the book with trembling fingers. Now he was glad that Cherie Centaur had drilled him well in reading; he had the text to lean on, so that his blank mind couldn't betray him. All he had to do was read the words and follow the directions and everything would be all right. He knew that Good Magician Humfrey really did want to marry the Gorgon; it was just the ceremony that put him off, as it did all men. Weddings were for women and their mothers. Dor would navigate this additional Kingly chore and doubtless be better off for the experience. But his knees still felt like limp noodles. Why did experience have to be so difficult?

He found the place and began to read. "We are gathered here to hogtie this poor idiot—"

There was a stir in the audience. The weeping matrons paused in mid-tear, while males of every type smirked. Dor blinked. Had he read that right? Yes, there it was, printed quite clearly. He might have trouble spelling, but he could read well enough. "To this conniving wench—"

The demons sniggered. A snake stuck its head out over the Gorgon's veil and hissed. Something was definitely wrong.

"But it says right here," Dor protested, tapping the book with one forefinger. "The gride and broom shall—"

There was a raucous creaking sound that cut through the chamber. Then the Zombie Master's whisk broom flew out of his pocket and hovered before Dor.

Astonished, Dor asked it: "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the broom," it replied. "You invoked the gride and broom, didn't you?"

"What's a gride?"

"You heard it. Awful noise."

So a gride was an awful noise. Dor's vocabulary was expanding rapidly today! "That was supposed to be a bride and groom," Dor said. "Get back where you belong."

"Awww. I thought I was going to get married." But the broom flew back to the pocket.

Now Millie spoke. "Lacuna!" she said.

One of the children jumped. It was the little girl, Millie's daughter.

"Did you change the print?" Millie demanded.

Now Dor caught on. The child's talent—changing printed text! No wonder the service was fouled up!

The Zombie Master grimaced. "Kids will be kids," he said dourly. "We should have used zombies to carry the train, but Millie wouldn't have it. Let's try it again."

Zombies to attend the bride! Dor had to agree with Millie, privately; the stench and rot of the grave did not belong in a ceremony like this.

"Lacuna, put the text back the way it was," Millie said severely.

"Awww," the child said, exactly the way the whisk broom had.

Dor lifted the book. But now there was an eye in the middle of the page. It winked at him. "What now?" he asked.

"Eh?" the book asked. An ear sprouted beside the eye.

"Hiatus!" Millie snapped, and the little boy jumped. "Stop that right now!"

"Awww." But the eye and ear shrank and disappeared, leaving the book clear. Now Dor knew the nature and talent of the other twin.

He read the text carefully before reading it aloud. It was titled
A Manual of Simple Burial.
He frowned at Lacuna, and the print reverted to the proper text:
A Manual of Sample Wedding Services.

This time he got most of the way through the service without disruption, ignoring ears and noses that sprouted from unlikely surfaces. At one point an entire face appeared on the sun-ball, but no one else was looking at it, so there was no disturbance.

"Do you, Good Magician Humfrey," he concluded, "take this luscious, faceless female Gorgon to be your—" He hesitated, for the text now read
ball and chain.
Some interpolation was necessary. "Your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to squeeze till she—uh, in health and sickness, for the few measly years you hang on before you croak—uh, until you both become rotten zombies—uh, until death do you part?" He was losing track of the real text.

The Good Magician considered. "Well, there are positive and negative aspects—"

The Zombie Master elbowed him. "Stick to the format," he muttered.

Humfrey looked rebellious, but finally got it out. "I suppose so."

Dor turned to the Gorgon. "And do you, you petrifying creature, take this gnarled old gnome—uh—" The mischievous text had caught him again. A monster in the audience guffawed. "Take Good Magician Humfrey—"

"I do!" she said.

Dor checked his text. Close enough, he decided. "Uh, the manacles—" Oh, no!

Gravely the Zombie Master brought forth the ring. An eye opened on its edge. The Zombie Master frowned at Hiatus, and the eye disappeared. He gave the ring to Humfrey.

The Gorgon lifted her fair hand. A snakelet hissed. "Hey, I don't want to go on that finger!" the ring protested. "It's dangerous!"

"Would you rather be fed to the zombie sea serpent?" Dor snapped at it. The ring was silent. Humfrey fumbled it onto the Gorgon's finger. Naturally he got the wrong finger, but she corrected him gently.

Dor returned to the manual. "I now pronounce you gnome and monst— uh, by the authority vested in me as King of Thieves—uh, of Xanth, I now pronounce you Magician and Wife." Feeling weak with relief at having gotten this far through despite the treacherous text, Dor read the final words. "You may now miss the gride." There was the awful banshee noise. "Uh, goose the tide." There was a sloppy swish, as of water reacting to an indignity. "Uh—"

The Gorgon took hold of Humfrey, threw back her veil, and kissed him soundly. There was applause from the audience, and a mournful hoot from the distance. The sea monster was signaling its sorrow over the Good Magician's loss of innocence.

Millie was furious. "When I catch you, Hi and Lacky—" But the little imps were already beating a retreat.

The wedding party adjourned to the reception area, where refreshments were served. There was a scream. Millie looked and paled, for a moment resembling her ghostly state. "Jonathan! You didn't!"