Part 19 (1/2)

I took the cookie and bit into it. It was perfect.

”Want a different kind?” Trent asked. ”I can make it any kind I know.”

I held the bitten-into cookie. ”What about a gla.s.s of milk?”

He pointed. Suddenly the plant was a milkweed, with several full ripe pods. ”I can't make gla.s.ses,” he said. ”Only living things.”

”That is good enough,” I said, suitably impressed. I was satisfied that he was a Magician of Transformation of living creatures. ”So you have come to find out how to become king without getting killed first.”

”Right.”

I heard Sofia returning. ”Spot lesson in diplomacy,” I said. ”Don't mention cookies; just accept hers.”

”Okay.”

Sofia had brought a plateful of cookies. Trent thanked her and took one. He was evidently a quick learner. That was good.

”I do not have an easy Answer for you,” I said. ”There are only two ways you can safely become king. One is to wait until the Storm King dies-”

”But that'll be forever!” he protested.

”And the other is to prepare yourself so that you can take power, displacing him. But you will have to be well trained, and adult, because such displacement is not a gentle matter.”

”Oh.” He looked disappointed. ”You mean I have to pay a year's service to you, for that?”

”In the course of that service, you will learn how to prepare yourself,” I said. ”I would not, of course, advise you to bother the legitimate king, but I will teach you how to be alert and defend yourself.”

”Oh.” His disappointment was fading. As I said, he was a bright boy.

So it was that Trent did a year's service for me, moving into a spare room in the castle, and I taught him how best to use his power. The strategy was simple: to transform any menace to something that was not a menace. When a mosquito came to suck his blood, he changed it into a harmless purple fly. When a dragon reared up before him, he transformed it to a dragonfly. When a tangle tree grabbed at him, he transformed it to an acorn tree. The key was to rehea.r.s.e things so that he could handle any living thing and not be surprised. Some creatures could hurt him from a distance, while he had to be within arm's reach to transform them, so he had to figure ways to nullify them from afar. Usually it was possible to transform some nearby creature into one which was a natural enemy of the attacking creature. But some natural enemies were also enemies of man. So if a dragon were about to blast out a long tongue of flame, he wouldn't transform a nearby worm into a monstrous fireproof serpent, because that serpent would find him easier prey than the dragon. But he could transform that worm into a huge sphinx, which wouldn't care about a man but would object strenuously to having its hide scorched by the dragon.

I also showed him how to sleep safely by transforming something into a mock tangle tree. Then he could sleep in the branches of that tree, while other creatures did not know it was harmless. Because he had to be on guard at all times, if he wanted to tackle a resentful king. Even so, I urged him not to do it-knowing that he would not follow this advice. We understood each other.

Between sessions, we discussed philosophical matters. ”It has occurred to me that the s.h.i.+eld is a mixed blessing,” I remarked.

”Is it? But doesn't it protect us from invasion by the Mundanes? It stopped the Waves!

”It stopped the Waves,” I agreed. We were referring to the series of wavelike invasions made by the Mundanes, which had wrought much havoc until halted by the deadly s.h.i.+eld King Ebnez had adapted. ”But it also stopped colonization from Mundania. There are actually more human people in Mundania than in Xanth, and the Waves served to renew the human stock here. Without that irregular renewal, our species has been dwindling in Xanth. Today the villages are smaller and farther apart, and there are fewer magic paths between them, making travel more hazardous. We need more people-and we can only get them if that s.h.i.+eld comes down.”

”But the Mundanes are terrible folk!” he said, repeating the standard lore. Children were frightened into good behavior by threats that the Mundanes would get them.

”Is Sofia terrible?” I asked.

Sofia had been very nice to him throughout. She had come to understand as well as I the importance of a potential future king of Xanth, and had treated him royally. ”No. But-”

”She is from Mundania.”

He gaped at me. This subject had not come up before. This was the beginning of a change in his att.i.tude.

Never again did he speak ill of Mundanes. In fact, the time would come when he would marry one, as I had. But I made one mistake in training him. I did not sufficiently stress the importance of integrity. I a.s.sumed that he already understood it, and I was preoccupied by practical matters. That error, as with the one I made by neglecting my son, was to cost us all dearly. How late we learn wisdom!

Another visit was from a harried woman. The Book of Answers cut short the challenges again, though she was no Sorceress. Why? I had to interview the woman to find out.

”It's my daughter,” she said. ”She's six years old, and it's impossible to discipline her or anything. She's out of control! I'm at my wit's end!”

I could see that. Normally folk were right in the middle of their wits, but she was off to the end of hers. ”She talks back?” I asked.

”No, she doesn't have to. She just uses her illusion.”

”She has illusions? Many girls do.”

”Not like this! Iris has illusions that-oh, how can I describe them? They're so real!”

I began to get a glimmer. The Book of Answers knew something about this, and it warned me only when there was Magician-cla.s.s magic involved. ”Do you mean she makes illusions you can't penetrate?”

”Well, not exactly. But it's so difficult, we just can't-it's so easy to be fooled-”

Gradually I got the story from her, and I understood what was happening. Her daughter Iris was Sorceress of Illusion. A Sorceress was the same as a Magician, only female. There was this foolish distinction, making it allowable only for a Magician (and therefore a man) to be king. That was one of the things about Xanth that needed changing, and that the current King wasn't changing.

I knew what I had to do. ”Send her here to do your year's service for you. We shall teach her how to use her power beneficially and return her to you with better manners.”

”Oh thank you, Good Magician!” she exclaimed tearfully.

So it was that six-year-old Iris came to spend a year with us, a year after Trent left. Crombie was a year younger than Iris, but kept mostly to himself; we did not know then how he had found comfort with the demoness, and he and Metria were careful never to let us find out. So there was not much interaction between the two children. Iris discovered early that Crombie had ways of getting back at her if she teased him with her realistic illusions, and she left him alone. I believe she crafted an illusion of a dragon coming to eat him up, and that night she climbed into bed only to discover a gushy meringue pie there first. It was no illusion. She had to wash the stuff off her feet and change the sheets. She didn't even tell the adults, sharing the Juvenile Conspiracy. So only now, in distant retrospect, can I say that probably it was Metria who placed that pie. Who says the demoness never did anyone a favor? It taught Iris manners in a hurry.

Iris did have a wondrous talent. She could make anything appear and be believably realistic, complete with sound and smell. Only touch was missing; if you walked into the illusion, you went right through it. But who would just walk into a fire-breathing dragon, on the chance that it wasn't real? Who would do it if the chances were only one in ten it was real? But for those who liked to play the odds, she could make a counter trap: by placing the illusion of a dragon over a deep pit. Thus if someone walked into it, he would fall in the pit and be in as much trouble as ever. In fact, she could cover the pit with the illusion of innocent level ground. Or she could cover a real dragon with that illusion of level ground. So a person could not be safe by avoiding the apparent illusions. Anything could be an illusion, and that meant that anything could be dangerous in an unexpected way.

But we did not have trouble with Iris, for two powerful reasons. First, we were delighted with her talent. This was the second Magician-cla.s.s talent I had encountered in two years; was a trend commencing? Even if she could never be king, she could be a power in Xanth. So while her family had been driven to distraction by the illusions, we delighted in them, and Iris was flattered by the attention. Flattered girls are generally not difficult girls. Second, I knew a good deal about magic myself, having studied at the University of Magic and collected spells all my life. I could not be fooled the way others could. I could tell illusion from reality immediately. I proved this early: Iris made illusion duplicates of herself, and little girls ran all around the castle, screaming. But I always spoke only to the true one. She did not know that I had had to take a potion to enable me to do this. She was impressed. Children respect adults they can't fool.

So I taught her new ways to use her talent, and how to craft ever more glorious illusions. When she came, she could make a realistic dollhouse; when she left, she could craft a realistic castle. At the start she could make a miniature storm cloud that seemed to rain on the rug, to Sofia's distress. At the end she could make a storm that wailed all around the castle. And perhaps most important, she learned to make real food that was dull look and taste like the most elegant meal. The feel of a gla.s.s of water was cool liquid; so was the feel of exotic wine. So she could get around her limitation, deceiving even herself. She could drink nothing but green and orange tsoda popka, and share it with the rest of us-yet it was only water. She could eat spicy dragon steak, yet it might be mere fruit from a stake plant. Best of all, she could forget to brush her hair, yet have it look eloquently coifed.

I explained to her how she could do even more than that, when she grew up. She could be as slovenly as she wished in person, yet always appear beautiful and well dressed to others. Then she showed me how well she was learning, for she became a beautiful adult woman with a low decolletage. Then her dress dissolved, and she was bare breasted. ”Am I s.e.xy now, Good Magician?” she inquired coyly.

”No,” I informed her.

She pouted. ”Why not? Aren't my bosoms big enough?''

”The term you intend is breast,” I said. ”You are showing two b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Only one bosom.” This discussion would have been chancy for a boy, but not for a girl, as it covered Necessary Information and so was partially exempt from the Adult Conspiracy. There was a portion of male anatomy that was similarly proscribed for girls.

”Whatever,” she said. That gave me pause for just a moment, but of course this was not the wily Metria. It was a coincidental use of the term. ”How big do they have to be?”

”There is no actual correct size,” I said. ”The problem is that yours lack nipples.” This time the air clouded and there was a distant rumble, for that word was really pus.h.i.+ng the limit of what the Conspiracy allowed. But again I was able to plead Necessity. Things can be uttered in the guise of Education which can not be even thought of elsewhere.

Iris looked down at her illusion. ”Oh.” Two nipples abruptly sprouted.

Then there was the sound of footsteps in the hall, and the entire illusion vanished, leaving the girl in her ordinary dress. ”Tell me more about the illusion of beauty, Good Magician,” Iris said brightly as Sofia entered with sandwiches. By that token I knew that she understood well enough the limits of the Conspiracy. Sofia, despite being Mundane, would have called a foul instantly, had she seen what I had seen. The Adult Conspiracy extends wide and far, and few truly comprehend its intricacies, but the mothers of children come close.

So in due course we sent Iris home, and she was by then a perfectly behaved little girl of seven. I had impressed on her that there was more to be gained by pleasing others than by teasing them. Instead of putting up walls of illusion to avoid taking her castor oil, she could thank her mother and make it taste like vanilla syrup. I knew that her family would be most pleased with her improved att.i.tude.