Two To The Fifth (21 page)

“That's sweet. But don't try it again.” He was overwhelmingly relieved to know that he had never touched her as a child.

“Of course you could simply tell me exactly what happened, after I revert. Then I wouldn't have to scheme to try to find out.”

“No.”

She frowned. “You're riling me.”

“Better that, than a true Violation. You're adult now; you understand.”

“I do,” she agreed grudgingly, “But I don't when I'm young.”

And she remained a Sorceress when she was young. He had to beware of her.

“You do,” she agreed, kissing him.

The hour ended, and she reverted, “You're not going to tell me,” she said.

“I'm not,” he agreed.

She frowned, and there was a rumble of thunder in the background, “If I didn't love you, I might do this to you.”

An unseen force took hold of him and lifted him off the ground. It shook him.

“I'm glad you're not doing that to me,” he gasped.

She had to laugh, breaking the mood, and he returned to the ground. Then she lunged forward and kissed him, hard. “But I do love you,” she said.

She was, indeed, a child, with childish impulses. Fortunately he was adult. She needed that discipline.

“I do,” she agreed.

Kadence returned with Melete. “Time to return to the troupe,” the Muse said. “Time for you to stop playing and write your play.”

“Time,” Cyrus agreed.

They walked to the camp. No one inquired about their absence. This was more evidence of Rhythm's sometimes frightening range of powers as a Sorceress.

Cyrus sought out Curtis. “We were out walking,” he said, “and there kept being dangers, especially to Kadence, I thought maybe it's a curse. You're a curse friend, so I thought this might be in your area. Can you help me?”

“Let me examine the child,” Curtis said.

Kadence approached, and the man put a hand on her head. “It's definitely a curse,” he said. “I feel its ambiance. Let me check my reference.” He fetched a tome, “Yes, here it is. This is interesting.”

“Curses are listed in a book?” Cyrus asked.

“It is our business,” Curtis said a trifle stiffly.

“Of course. I just didn't realize that that sort of thing could be tabulated.”

“It is a magic reference, automatically updated,” the Curse Friend said. “Let me provide some necessary background. The Muse of History, Clio, was cursed to suffer some danger every day of her life. Fortunately she had the means to handle those threats. Later she got together with a Magician who reversed that curse, and it has lain fallow for several years. It seems that someone has appropriated it and applied it to Kadence. It is an opportunistic curse, adapting whatever is convenient, and not always aptly.”

“Not aptly?” Cyrus asked.

“For example, if there is a dragon nearby, it will lead the subject to the dragon,” Curtis explained. “But the dragon may not be hungry at the moment, so does not consume the victim. The curse isn't smart about such details.”

“That's exactly how it is,” Cyrus said. “We encountered a friendly dragon we recruited for the next play.”

“The next play!”

“She'll be here in another day or so,” Cyrus said. “She talks. I have worked out a play with her as the lead female.”

“So you weren't wasting your time during your absence.”

“I never know in what manner inspiration will come. Can you stop the curse?”

“Oh, yes, now that I have identified it. I will simply disconnect it from Kadence so it can't find her any more. But why should anyone want to curse such an innocent child?”

“That's what we would like to know,” Cyrus said. “At least she's safe now.”

“Safe,” Kadence repeated, relieved.

But later, with Rhythm, he was sure he knew. “Ragna Roc. The bird knows about us.”

“I don't think so,” Rhythm said. “He would simply have rendered us all into illusion, instead of doing something relatively ineffective like this. Why alert us that he knows, anyway? Why use some leftover curse?”

She was right. “How about this: Ragna doesn't know about us, but does know that Xanth folk aren't keen on being taken over by him. So he got someone to watch out for dangers, and maybe that person found this curse, and oriented it to focus on the greatest danger to Ragna?”

“So nobody knows about us, except the curse, and it's not very smart.” She nodded. “So we're safe, for now. Except—”

“Except why did it focus on Kadence? It should have oriented on you.”

“On me,” she agreed. “She's a Sorceress, but making ants or people walk in step isn't going to hurt him. Whereas if I get close to him, I'll zap him with a conjured pineapple.”

“Which he would render illusionary. And you too.”

“Um,” she agreed. “Still, Kadence can't be the worst threat. Maybe the curse got the wrong person.”

“Maybe,” he said. “At least she's safe now.”

“Yes.” But she seemed uncertain.

“Now write that play,” Melete said.

Cyrus got to work and wrote the play. It was rapid, because he already had it worked out.

Next day the Dragon Lady arrived, Cyrus had warned the troupe, so there was only muted alarm. He went out to greet her, and escorted her to the campsite. “This is the Dragon Lady,” he said. “She will be the lead lady in the play.”

“Hello,” the dragon said shyly. “I'll stay away except during rehearsals. Hunting, you know.”

The other members of the troupe were happy to leave it at that.

Cyrus had Tuff, the volcanic rock salesman, try out for the lead male. Tuff had done all right playing the King in the prior play, and was getting into acting. But who would do for the Avatar of the lead lady?

“Let me!” Piper said.

“No way,” the Witch said protectively. “You're thirteen. This role requires kissing and simulated romance.”

“But nobody will really summon the stork on stage before an audience.” Piper protested.

“The implication will nevertheless be there,” the Witch said. “No child can play this role.”

A cloud of smoke appeared. “What child is playing with her bread?”

“Playing with her what?” Piper asked innocently.

“Wafer, toast, loaf, pastry, bun—”

“Roll?”

“Whatever,” the cloud agreed, crossly.

“That's role, not roll,” the Witch said.

“That's what I said,” the cloud said, forming into a dark lovely demoness.

Oh, no. “We are casting roles for the play, Metria.” Cyrus said. “You wouldn't be interested.” And knew as he said it that he shouldn't have.

“Oh? Try me.”

So he explained. “We need a nice-looking girl who will be mute. All her lines will be spoken by a talking dragon, who is the real Lady. The actress will represent the Avatar, an image the Dragon Lady crafts to participate in a big dream.”

“Demons and Dragons!” Metria said. “I love that dream!”

“Rehearsals will be long and boring. She'll just have to pretend to talk.”

“And kiss,” Piper said, pouting. “They won't let me. Something about the stork.”

“I can kiss,” Metria said. “I have no fear of storks. In fact I can freak out any man with just my panties.” Her smoky dress evaporated to reveal bright red panties with flickering blue stars.

“No!” Cyrus cried, too late. He had already freaked. His gaze was locked on the wicked sight.

Then a hand covered his eyes, breaking the contact. “Nobody freaks you out but me,” Rhythm murmured. Then she fired a glance that caused the panties to catch on fire. The demoness puffed back into smoke with an outraged bleep.

“Thank you, child,” he said, reminding her to conceal her nature.

Meanwhile women were doing the same for the men, all of whom had similarly freaked out.

“No panties, Metria,” Cyrus said. “She's a nice girl.”

“Nice girls also have panties,” the demoness said, re-forming. “Even if they're hidden.” But her dress was back, intact. “So do I have the role?”

What could he do? “You can try it. If you foul up, or do anything mischievous, I'll boot you out of the play.”

“I'd like to see you try.” She posed, with her backside ready for booting. “You'd get your foot stuck in it.”

That was surely no bluff, “I mean I would deny you the part. You must play it straight.”

“Whoo, mee?” the demoness asked, assuming an owl shape before fading out.

“We may regret this,” Rhythm muttered.

“I already regret it. But maybe it's better to have her cooperating than interfering.”

The actors were given a few days to memorize their lines, while the workers set up the dream set, consisting of foamy clouds fashioned from extremely diffuse tuff. It was surprising how varied volcanic rock could be; some of it was mostly solidified gas.

Then came rehearsal. The Dragon Lady curled around the stage, concealed by clouds. In the center was a little pavilion, substituting for the closed mini-castle, because a real castle wasn't feasible and anyway, the audience needed to see the actors. Overall, it was a full-sized but quite simple setting.

John, played by Tuff, stood beside the stage. “I'll never get a girlfriend,” he proclaimed in the manner necessary to reach the full audience, “I'm just an ordinary dull man with no special talent.” After a pause, he resumed. “So I'm going to try one of these dream pills, so I can sleep and enter a communal dream where maybe things will be better.”

John made a production of swallowing a pill. Then he lay down beside the stage, disappearing from view. But in a moment he reappeared on the stage: he was in the dream.

In due course the girl approached him: Marsha. She was innocently pretty, projecting niceness. That was surely a real effort for the actress. Demoness Metria, but she managed it. She herself didn't talk, which spared the audience her fouled-up vocabulary; instead she gestured theatrically, and it was the Dragon Lady's voice that spoke. Because the hidden dragon's head was close to the actress, it seemed as if the actress was talking.

In due course John and Marsha entered the pavilion and started kissing, certain they were unobserved, in the manner of dramatic presentation. They were obviously an ideal couple. But as the play progressed, and they became closer acquaintances, Marsha's evasions about her physical identity became evident. Then the dragon raised her head, and the covering clouds fell away to reveal her full body surrounding the stage. The audience could see that she was the one talking, not the Avatar. John, however, on stage, remained dramatically unaware.

This was only the first rehearsal, watched by stagehands and other members of the troupe.

But even they gave a small gasp as they realized that John was falling in love with a dragon. Cyrus was thrilled; it was working.

Then came the revelation that John understood, and his problem accepting it. But when he finally was reconciled, and kissed Marsha knowing that she was really a dragon, there was a small moan of appreciation from the limited audience. They understood that this was truly forbidden love, and sympathized with the lovers.

When the play was done, the actors took their bows, and the Dragon Lady bowed her head. The troupe audience applauded; they really liked the play.

“I believe this is viable after all,” Melete admitted grudgingly. “It's derivative of your own situation, but the audience doesn't know that. It's a nice love story.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus said, relieved. She was always his most severe critic. That was of course her nature.

“However,” she continued inexorably, “it is axiomatic that a good rehearsal can lead to a disaster at the presentation. Anything that can go wrong, will.”

“To be sure,” he said, not believing it.

They arranged to put on the play at Crabapple's village again, because it was the closest, and the villagers had liked the first play. That morning Cyrus, Rhythm, and Tuff went to set up the stage, as they had done before.

Tuff conjured expansive foam-stone cloudbanks, including enough small stuff to cover the dragon for the first portion of the play. Rhythm would render the Dragon Lady temporarily invisible so that she could take her place without raising a commotion. Cyrus had found another spot spell: that was the explanation for the troupe, and they were not inclined to question it, thanks to another spot disinterest spell.

“The Lady's head will be here.” Cyrus said. “We need to move one block aside.”

“No sooner said than—” Tuff said, heaving up the block. Then he tripped over a lesser block, lost his balance, and fell. Rhythm screamed as the boulder block dropped down on his leg. As stone went, it was light, but as flesh and bone went, it was all too heavy. There was a sickening crunch.

Tuff lay there, writhing in pain. Rhythm ran to help him. “I can—” she said.

“You must not, Princess!” Melete cried. “That would show your power.”

Rhythm paused in midrun, nodding. “Help ease your pain,” she said. “I've got a spell I keep for emergencies.” She kneeled beside the man and put her hands on his leg.

“Oh, thank you. Rhyme, you dear child,” Tuff said. “That makes it bearable.”

“I think the Witch has a full healing spell,” Rhythm said.

“No she doesn't,” he said. “I know her pretty well.”

So he did. So they couldn't use that ruse. He would have to remain injured until they figured out a legitimate cover for Rhythm's magic.

“I could heal it.” Piper said. “But it would take weeks for an injury that bad. My healing power is more for cuts and scrapes.”

The villagers had seen the accident, and were sympathetic. They carried him to a cottage where he could rest. This, too, had to be accepted.

Tuff was out of the play.

“But he has the lead part!” Cyrus said. “No one else knows his lines.”

“No one except you,” Melete said. “You wrote them.”

“That's not the same. I could garble them.”

“You will have a prompter.”

Rhythm smiled. “My little sister is very good at that.”

So she was. Cyrus sighed. He would have to do it. “When are you going to say you told me so?” he asked Melete.

“Any time now,” she said, smiling. “Poor Tuff.”

“We'll have him healed for the next presentation.” Rhythm said. “Even if we have to find a hidden cache of healing elixir.”

“Piper will find it,” Melete said. And that was of course the suitable cover for Rhythm's power.