Two To The Fifth (33 page)

The Princesses could summon the rest of my hill, conjuring all the ants here. If they wanted to.

“I'll ask them!”

“No,” Melete said, “I'll ask Rhythm, so there's nothing spoken aloud. You go about your business of putting on the plays.”

“Talk to Kadence too,” he said. “But assuming we get the cage made, how can we get Ragna in it?”

“That will be your challenge,” Melete said.

He had been afraid of that.

There is something else, Anona thought.

Cyrus had learned respect for the ants thoughts, “What is it?”

Won't they read your mind, and know your plan?

Cyrus shared a devastated glance with Melete. Of course the Roc's tame telepaths would do that! “What can I do?”

What about the lethe elixir?

“The what?”

When you put me in your pocket, there was a vial there. I recognized it as containing three drops of lethe. We Pique Ants have had some experience with that sort of thing, and are largely immune. That's why you forgot about me: it has an ambiance. That dose would be enough to make you forget this matter for at least three days. Four at the most: it hasn't been tested on cyborgs.

“The lethe Algebra Nymph gave me!” he exclaimed, remembering. That ambiance, as she put it, must have made him forget the vial as well as the ant. “She said I would need it at some point.”

“This is that point,” Melete agreed, “Take it. We can't let you carry that plan in your head these next three days. Not with those anonymous telepaths lurking. We have to clear it out immediately.”

“But then how can I plan to lead the roc to the shell?”

“You will have to think fast then. Take the lethe.”

Cyrus sighed. It did seem necessary. Still, he hesitated. “Suppose it wears off too soon—or too late? They could read my mind before the battle, or I wouldn't be able to invoke the plan. Either way is dangerous.”

“Stop temporizing,” Melete said severely. “Anona and I will know what's going on, and we'll direct Kadence without explaining, so she can't give away the plan either. We'll divert you or prod you as necessary.”

He reluctantly fished the vial out of his pocket. It was so small he couldn't uncap it, “How do I open it?”

“Just chew it up,” Melete said. “It's not glass.”

He put the vial in his mouth. “Let me forget about the plan to stop Ragna Roc,” he said. “And that I even have a plan.” Then he chewed down hard.

“Now it's our turn,” Melete said. Cyrus wondered what she meant by that, because he couldn't remember anything relevant.

The troupe members enjoyed being feted, each attended by an attentive guide, and they loved the luxury and beauty of Castle Rock Candy. They didn't like the constant solicitations to enlist with the Roc, but were cautious in their demurrals lest it end their royal treatment.

Cyrus stayed away from the Princesses and focused on the presentation of the three plays. They were well received, especially the second one, “The Dream,” because of the prominence of the Dragon Lady. It seemed they related very well to the association with a nonhuman creature.

“We have let it be known,” the Witch said to him, “that you are the troupe leader and we will stay with you. So if you join the Roc, so will we.”

“I'll never do that!”

She cautioned him with a finger. “Be not so emphatic. We want to give them serious hope, at least until the showdown. It keeps them helpful.”

“Less emphasis,” he agreed. “But you know, if we lose the showdown—”

“Then we will join rather than be deleted. It is the sensible course. But we hope not to lose. We trust that you have some secret strategy for a surprising victory.”

“I appreciate your trust,” he said wryly. How could he tell her that he had never figured out any plan? The members of the troupe were trusting him, and he wished he were more deserving of their trust.

The last play concluded. The battle would be the following day.

Em Pathy approached Cyrus. She was attractively dressed, and quite pretty. “As you know, I speak for Ragna,” she murmured.

“Yes.”

“He would really like you to enlist, and not merely to avoid what is bound to be a bruising battle. He respects you, and would like to have your creative imagination supporting his realm.”

“If he defeats the Princesses, who can say what I will do? I love Princess Rhythm.”

“If he defeats the Princesses, there will be a separate negotiation. But the chances are that Princess Rhythm will be gone, and you will be intent on vengeance. It might be dangerous to bring you in then. He prefers to bring you in voluntarily, before the battle.”

“I can't do that,” Cyrus said uncomfortably, “I am loyal to the old order.”

“It is that loyalty he appreciates, in part. For your sake, he will try to spare Princess Rhythm. But this may not be possible. Should the worst happen, he wants you to know that he will try to make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

“By providing you with another compatible woman. He now knows you are not a pedophile.”

So their telepaths had been reading his mind, and knew the real nature of that romance. Cyrus repressed an angry retort. “I don't want any other woman.”

“For example, me,” she said. “I can be extremely understanding.” She inhaled, smiling.

Suddenly she was more than attractive; she was compelling. He found himself overflowing with desire for her He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her, and go oh so much farther, reveling in the sheer awareness of her closeness.

Then he caught on. "You're altering my emotion!

The effect faded. “Merely a demonstration. If you should lose the Princess, I could ease your pain and make you happy. Do not close off that option carelessly.”

He realized that what she said was true. She could change his feelings. In order to avoid that, he answered very cautiously. “I will keep that in mind. But I do not want to stop loving the Princess.”

“You are loyal. I value that. I am loyal to Ragna. But if by some foul chance he loses the battle, you may recruit me if you choose.” She gave him a last tender tinge of desire, then walked away.

“That woman is dangerous,” he said later to Melete. “And not just because of whom she serves.”

“True. Do not make an enemy of her. She could be extremely useful if we win.” “Oh, I see. But if he wins—”

“Rhythm may be gone.”

He had to see that they beat the Roc! But how? It was almost as if he had lost interest in formulating a plan of action. What was wrong with him?

“I'm sure you'll think of something,” Melete said.

“But I haven't? I have no idea what to do!” With her, at least, he could be honest.

“Maybe the Princesses will defeat the Roc tomorrow,” she said. “Then it won't matter any more.”

“I wish I could be sure of that. But I'm afraid I have led them into a deadly trap. If they die it will be my fault.”

“Cyrus,” she said seriously, “This battle was fated. They would have had to meet Ragna sometime. It is better to do it now, before he takes over any more of Xanth. Win or lose, it's not your fault.”

“But it feels like my fault.”

“I would comfort you if I could.”

“Rhythm could comfort me. Where is she?”

“She and her sisters are preparing to battle Ragna tomorrow morning. They can't afford to have you distracting them at this time. It could be the death of them.”

“I know it,” he said miserably. “I'll leave Rhythm alone.”

“Now sleep,” Melete said. “You will need your wits about you tomorrow.”

“To watch a battle I can't affect? To betray the trust of my troupe?”

“Trust me, Cyrus. You are doing your part.”

He gazed at her. He did trust her. But he couldn't believe her.

Yet, somehow, he managed to sleep soundly. Maybe someone had put a sleep spell on him.

In the morning the three Princesses were waiting by his door with their guides and the rest of the troupe. Rhythm stepped forward. “In case I don't make it.” she murmured, “remember that I love you, regardless of my age.” Then she kissed him in front of everyone.

“Oh. Rhythm!” he said as he held her. “I'll always love you!”

“Stay with Kadence, please. Make a family for her.” She wiped away a tear. At this stage, she was only technically a child.

“I will!” he said, half blinded by tears himself.

She returned to her sisters. They began the march to the Roc's nest.

Kadence came up. He took her hand. They followed the Princesses. The rest of the troupe was behind.

They came to the Nest. There was Ragna Roc, huge and imposing. Beside him stood Em Pathy.

“The battle will commence when I lower my hand,” Em said without preamble. She raised her right arm.

Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm stood together at the rim of the nest, facing Ragna Roc. They nodded together, ready.

There was no other preliminary. Em dropped her arm.

Nothing happened. The troupe members looked at each other, perplexed. When was it going to start?

Then Cyrus saw that Ragna Roc was absolutely still. Not a single feather moved. And the three Princesses were frozen in place like statues. Bird and girls were staring intently at each other, doing nothing else.

Nothing? They were doing everything! Ragna was trying to delete them, and they were fighting back and perhaps using his own power against him, maybe reflecting it or converting it to something else. The battle was invisible, but it was being waged.

Now Cyrus felt a tingling in his hair and on his skin. All the hairs of his body were trying to lift themselves up, as if electrically charged. There was enormous magic suffusing the area, touching them all peripherally.

“Daddy!” Kadence cried, scared.

He looked at her. Her hair was drawing itself up from her scalp, spreading out, radiating from her head like a spiked helmet.

“It's the magic,” he whispered. “It's not directed at you. It's because of the battle. It's so intense it infuses everything and spreads out, like a hot potato cooling. They are trying to destroy each other.”

“Oh,” she said, not seeming very much reassured. “I thought I was terrified.” She reconsidered. “I am terrified!”

Cyrus looked around. The hair was spreading out on all the troupe members, and on the Minions too. “We all are, dear. But all we can do is wait, and hope.”

Something changed in her expression. “No. Anona says we have more to do.”

“Anona Ant?” He had quite forgotten her since first putting her in his pocket. How did she relate?

“She's in my hair,” Kadence said. “Hanging on desperately. She's directing me.”

“Directing you?” Cyrus was at a loss to comprehend this.

“Come with me. Father.”

“But the battle isn't finished.”

“Go with her,” Melete said from his pocket. He didn't remember putting her there, but he must have done so.

Kadence took him by the hand and led him from the Nest. No one else moved; they were all standing distracted, hair spiking, hardly breathing. The magic was so thick it seemed difficult to pass through it. Oh, yes, the battle was happening!

As they passed through the halls and chambers of the castle, Cyrus noticed something else. The rock candy stones were melting. Not a lot, but their sharp edges were rounding off, and their flat planes were warping slightly. The intense magic was evidently generating heat that softened the material. If that continued, this castle would became a physically dangerous place, because there was an awful lot of candy rock in it.

He remembered how daunting it was to be in the vicinity when the three Princesses focused together on a spot project. They were children, but their merged and cubed magic was as strong as any in Xanth. Yet Ragna Roc was attacking them with confidence, and so far, making it stick. It was awesome and, yes, scary.

There were Minions here and there, but none of them paid attention to the two visitors in their midst. They were standing in place, hair outstretched, taken by the awful power of the surrounding magic.

They came to the roof where the roc hens had landed. The basket remained, and beside it was a huge egg with a hinged top. It was big enough to hold several rocs. Ants were swarming over it, applying the finishing touches.

“What is this?” Cyrus asked.

“It is your project, Father. Don't you remember?”

“No. I know nothing of this.”

“Because you took those three drops of lethe elixir to make you forget. They should be wearing off any time now. This is an egg made from undeleted material—stuff the Roc deleted, then undeleted, so can't delete again. Anona Ant is directing me, and I'm coordinating all the other ants in her Hill, which the Princesses conjured here three days ago and then took sniffs of some lethe elixir they also conjured from where Roc Ette used to live, to make them forget. Ragna will not be able to get out of this egg, once it closes about him. But there's one problem.”

Cyrus did not need to remember anything to understand that. “Getting him into it.”

“Yes. That's your job. If he beats the Princesses, we can still win, if you get him in there. But there's another problem. That lid is too heavy for the ants to move quickly. He'd escape long before they could close it.”

Cyrus looked at the huge lid. “Too big for me too.”

“Think of a way, Cyrus,” Melete urged him.

It was beginning to come back, “I worked this out,” he said. “Then took lethe so the telepaths couldn't find out from my mind. But I didn't think of that detail.”

“Think of it now,” Melete said.

Cyrus focused his creativity. A dim bulb flashed. “Roc Ette!”

“Who?” Kadence asked.

“The roc hen he captured after deleting the entire village that had helped her escape him. She's part of his harem.”

“What's a harem, Father?”

He opened his mouth, but was abruptly balked by the Adult Conspiracy. “A special group of women. The point is, she doesn't want to be there. She surely hates Ragna.”

“She could close the egg!” Kadence exclaimed. She was a bright child.

“Yes. If I can find her in time.”

“I know where there's a flock of roc hens,” Kadence said, “I saw them when we toured the castle.”

“That has to be them. Take me there.”

She led him to another section of the castle. The trip was harrowing, because roc candy blocks were starting to fall into the halls, and here and there they could hear roofs collapsing. The castle was being destroyed, yet no one was touching it. How long could this go on?

They reached the hens. These, too, were mesmerized by the transcendent magic atmosphere. They perched hunched, their feathers extended in the manner of the hair on the humans. But which one was Ette?

“Call her,” Melete advised. “The others won't care.”

“Roc Ette!” he called.

One huge head turned toward him. This was a very pretty roc. Now he saw that her wingfeathers were not extended. He remembered why: they had been deleted. They were illusion. She could not fly. It was a horrible punishment for a bird, any bird.

“Roc Ette,” he said. “I am Cyrus Cyborg. I saw how the entire village of your human friends was deleted. I am fighting Ragna, but I need your help. Together maybe we can put him away.”

She nodded. She understood him. She hopped down from her perch.

“This way,” he said. “To the roof.” He explained as he and Kadence ran around the growing rubble and melt, and Ette followed.

Fortunately the landing area was more solidly constructed than the more decorative portions of the castle. Maybe it was underpinned by regular rock instead of candy. It remained firm enough to support the roc hen's weight.

“So if you can hide behind the basket, then jump out and push the lid closed when he's in it, he will be trapped,” Cyrus concluded. “Will you do that?”

Ette nodded. There was something very like a grim smile on her beak.

The trap was set. Now all he had to do was get Ragna here, and into the egg. If he could just figure out a way.

“I must go,” Cyrus said, “I congratulate you, Anona, Kadence, and the Pique Ants. You have done an excellent job.”

Kadence remained by the shell, organizing the ants as they shored up any possible weak spots. They would have the shell ready for occupancy on time.

The collapse of the castle was accelerating as he returned to the Nest. He had to climb over forming piles of half-melted rubble. Yet still the contest of magic continued. It seemed that the opposing forces were so nearly equal that there was no way out except to continue.

How was he to get the big bird past all this and into the shell? Cyrus still had no idea.

He came to the Nest. Ragna still faced the three Princesses. None of them had moved. But now the rest of the castle was collapsing around them. The people were fleeing, both Minions and troupe members. It wasn't any change of loyalties so much as fear that they would be crushed in falling blocks of rock candy, or stuck in melting goo.