"Well, it has been eight centuries, in a manner of--" Dor did a double take. "What did my body do with Irene?"
'Coral was real curious about the distinction between male and female anatomy. Coral's asexual, or bisexual, or something, see, and--"
"Enough! Do you realize I'm about to see her father?"
"Why do you think I mentioned the matter? I tried to cover for you, but King Trent's pretty savvy and Irene's a snitch. So I'm not sure--"
"When did I--I mean, my body--?"
"Yesterday."
"Then there may still be time. She doesn't speak to her father for days at a time."
"In a case like this she might make an exception."
"She might indeed!" Dor agreed worriedly.
"Ah, what does it matter? The King knows she's a brat."
"It is my own reputation I am thinking of." Dor had been accorded the respect due a grown man, in the tapestry world, and the feeling was now important to him. But it was more than that. Other people had feelings too. He thought of how Vadne had glowed when the Zombie Master complimented her talent--and how Murphy's curse had perverted that into her doom and his. And Millie's. Feelings were important--even those of brats.
Dor addressed the floor. "Where is Irene?"
"Hasn't been here for days."
He moved into the hall, questioning as he went. Soon he located her--in her own apartment in the palace. "You go elsewhere," he told Grundy. "I have to handle this myself."
"Aw," the golem complained, "Your fights with Irene are so much fun." But he obediently departed. Dor inhaled deeply, the act reminding him fleetingly of Heavenly Helen Harpy, squared his shoulders, then knocked politely. Quickly she opened the door.
Irene was only eleven, but with his new perspective Dor saw that she was an extremely pretty child, about to blossom into a fair young woman. The lines of her face were good, and though she had not yet developed the feminine contours, the framework was present for an excellent enhancement. Give her two years, maybe three, and she might rival Millie the maid. With a different talent, of course,
"Well?" she said, with the sharpness of nervousness.
"May I come in?"
"You sure did yesterday. Want to play house again?"
"No." Dor entered and closed the door quietly behind him as she retreated. How to proceed? Obviously she had strong reactions and was wary of him without actually being frightened. She had potted plants all around the room, and one was a miniature tangler: she had no need to fear anyone! She hadn't told her father yet; he had, in the course of locating her, determined that she had not been near the library in the past day.
Irene was a palace brat whose talent fell well short of Magician caliber. No one would ever call her Sorceress. She had a sharp tongue and some obnoxious mannerisms. Yet, Dor reminded himself again, she was a person. He had always held her in a certain contempt because her talent was substantially beneath his own--but so was Millie's. Magic was important, certainly, and in some situations critical--but in other situations it hardly mattered. The Zombie Master had recognized that
Now Dor felt ashamed, not for what his body might have done yesterday, but for what he, Dor, had done a month ago, and a year ago. Stepping on the feelings of another person. It did not matter that he had not done it maliciously; as a full Magician, in line to inherit the crown of Xanth, he should have recognized the natural resentment and frustration of those who lacked his opportunities. Like Irene, daughter of two of the three top talents in the older generation, doomed to the status of a nonentity because she had only ordinary magic. And was female. How would he feel in such a circumstance? How had his father Bink felt, as a child of no apparent magic?
"Irene, I--I guess I've come to apologize." He remembered how freely King Roogna had apologized to the Zombie Master, though the problem had only deviously been the fault of the King. Royalty had no need to be above humility! "I had no right to do what I did, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
She looked at him quizzically. "You're talking about yesterday?"
"I'm talking about my whole life!" he flared. "I--I have strong magic, yes. But I was born with it; it's an accident of fate, no personal credit to me. You have magic yourself, good magic, better than average. I make dead things talk; you make live things grow. There are situations in which your talent is far more useful than mine. I...looked down on you, and that was wrong. I can't blame you for reacting negatively; I would do the same. In fact you fought back with more spunk than I ever did. You're a person, Irene. A child, as I am, but still a human being who deserves respect. Yesterday--" He stalled, for he had no clear idea what the Coral had done. He should have gotten the specifics from Grundy. He spread his hands. "I'm sorry, and I apologize, and--"
She raised a finger in a little mannerism she had, silencing him. "You're taking back yesterday?"
Dor couldn't help thinking of his own yesterday, piping goblins and harpies after him with the magic flute, swinging on spider silk inside the Gap, detonating the forget spell that still polluted the Gap, hauling corpses from battlefield to laboratory to make zombies--unparalleled adventure, now forever past Yesterday was eight hundred years ago. "I can't take back yesterday. It's part of my life, now. But--"
"Listen, you think I'm some naive twit who doesn't know what's what?"
"No, Irene. I was the naive one. I--"
"You claim you didn't know what you were doing?"
Dor sighed. How true that statement was! "I really can't make excuses. I'll take my medicine. You have a right to be angry. If you want to tell your father--"
"Father, hell!" she snapped. "I'll take care of this myself! Ill give back exactly what you gave me!"
Dor was not reassured. "As you wish. It is your right."
"Close your eyes and stand still."
She was going to hit him. Dor knew it. But it seemed he had it coming. He had let the Brain Coral use his body; he was responsible. He closed his eyes and stood still, forcing his hands to hang loose at his sides, undefensively. Maybe this was the best way to settle it.
He heard her step close, almost felt the movement of her body. She was raising her arm. He hoped she wouldn't hit him low. Better on the chest or face, though it marked him.
It was on the mouth. But strangely soft. In fact--
In fact, she was kissing him!
Totally surprised, Dor found himself putting his arms around her, partly for balance, mostly because that was what one was supposed to do when kissed by a girl. He felt her body yield to him, her hair shifting with the motion. She smelled and tasted and felt pleasant.
Then she drew back a little within his embrace and looked at him. "What do you think of that?" she asked.
"If you intended that to be punishment, it didn't work," he said. "You're sort of nice to kiss."
"So are you," she said. "You surprised me yesterday. I thought you were going to hit me or yank off my panties or something, and I was all set to scream, and it was all awkward and bumpy, noses colliding and stuff. So I practiced last night on my big doll. Was it better this time?"
A kiss? That was what they had done yesterday? Dor's knees felt weak! Trust Grundy the golem to blow it up into something gossipy! "There's no comparison!"
"Should I take off my clothes now?"
Dor froze, chagrined. "Uh--"
She laughed. "I thought that would faze you! If I wouldn't do it yesterday, what makes you think I'd do it today?"
"Nothing," Dor said, relaxing with a shuddering breath. He had seen naked nymphs galore, in the tapestry, but this was real. "Nothing at all. Nothing absolutely at all."
"You want to know what yesterday was?" she demanded. "It was the first time you really got interested in me, for anything. The first time anybody got interested in me who didn't want a plant grown fast, instead of calling me a palace brat who should have been a sorceress but could only grow stupid green stuff. Do you have any idea what it's like having two Magician-caliber parents and being a big disappointmen
t to them because not only are you a girl, you have lousy talent?"
"You have good talent!" Dor protested. "And there's nothing wrong with being a girl!"
"Oh sure, sure," she countered. "You never had no talent. You never were not male. You never had people being polite to your face because of who your father was and what your mother might do to them, while they cut you down behind your back and called you skunk cabbage and garden-variety talent and weed girl and--"
"I never called you that!" Dor cried.
"Not in so many words. But you thought it, didn't you?"
Dor blushed, unable to deny it. "I...won't think it again," he promised lamely.
"And on top of that," she continued grimly, "you know your own parents only stand up for you because they have to, but privately they think just the same as all other people do-"
"Not the King," Dor protested. "He's not that type-"
"Shut up!" she flared, her eyes filling with angry tears. Dor did, and she composed herself. Girls of any age were good at quick composures. "So then yesterday you were different. You kept asking questions, and you paid real attention, just as if you didn't have a sexpot like Millie the ghost in your cheesy house to sneak peeks at and get the whole story, and you didn't say a word about magic, or make anything talk, or anything. It was just you and me. All you wanted to know was what it was like being a girl. It was as if something else were speaking, something awful smart and ignorant, wanting to learn from me. First I thought you were poking fun at me, teasing me--but you never smiled. Then you wanted to kiss me, and I thought, Now he's going to bite my lip or pinch me and fall over laughing, but you didn't laugh. So I kissed you, and it was awful, I bruised my nose, what the hell, I thought at least you'd know how but you didn't, and you just said, "Thank you, Princess" and left, and I lay on my bed a long time trying to figure out where the joke was, what you were telling the boys--"
"I didn't--" Dor protested.
"I know. I snooped. Some. You didn't say anything, and neither did the golem. So it seemed you really were interested in me, and--" She smiled, and she looked brilliantly sweet when she did that. "And it was the greatest experience of my whole life! You're a real Magician, and--"
"No, that has nothing to do with--"
"So I practiced kissing, just in case. Then you came in just now apologizing, as if it were something dirty. So I thought you hadn't meant it, had just been slumming, and--"
"No!" Dor cried in sudden anguish. "That wasn't it at all!"
"I know that now. Can't blame me for wondering, though." She smiled again. "Listen, Dor, I know tomorrow it'll be just like before, and I'll be a snotty palace brat to you, but--would you kiss me again?"
Dor felt deeply complimented. "Gladly, Irene." He bent to kiss her again. He was young yet, and so was she, but it was a foretaste of what they might experience when they both grew up.
"Maybe again, sometime?" she inquired wistfully. "I sort of like being a girl, now."
"Sometime," he agreed. "But we've got to fight some, too, or the others will tease us. We're still too young--" But not very much too young, he thought. He could see the road ahead rather clearly now, after his tapestry experience.
"I know." They broke, and there seemed to be nothing more to say, so Dor went to the door and opened it. He paused to look back at her, remembering what she had said about her parents being disappointed in her. She--was sitting on her bed, bathed in a forlorn joy--
"Not the King!" he repeated quietly. "I believe that."
Irene smiled. "No, not the King."
"And not me."
"Same thing," she said.
He stepped out and closed the door, knowing he wasn't through with her. Not today or tomorrow, or for some time to come. Not through at all.
Grundy was waiting for him. "Any black eyes? Broken teeth? Throttle marks? It was awful quiet in there."
"She's a nice girl," Dor said, walking toward the library. "Funny I never noticed that before."
"Brother!" the golem expostulated. "First he notices Millie the ghost, then Irene the brat. What's he coming to?"
Maturity, Dor thought. He was growing up, and new horizons were opening, and he was glad.
They arrived at the library. "Come in," King Trent called before Dor could knock.
Dor entered and took the seat indicated. "Remember how you sent me on a quest, Your Majesty? I have returned."
The King held up one hand, palm out. Dor thought of Jumper's mode of greeting. "Let me not deceive you, Dor. Humfrey advised me, and I could not resist watching the tapestry. I have a fair notion what you have been doing."
"You mean the tapestry showed me--what I was doing while I was doing it?"
"Certainly, once I knew which character to watch. You and that spider--you're lucky you didn't kill yourself in the Gap! But there was no way for me to revoke the spell before its natural span expired. I sweated to think of what I would have to say to your father, if--"
Dor laughed convulsively. "And I was worried about Irene's father!"
King Trent smiled. "Dor, I really don't like to snoop around the palace, but the Queen does. She quickly noticed the change in you, saw that you never used your talent, and found out about the Brain Coral. Her picture hangs in Irene's room; the Queen merely substituted her own illusion image for the picture and had what they call in Mundania a ringside seat. She watched everything yesterday--and today. And advised me, just now."
Dor shrugged. "I stand by what I did. Both days."
"I know you do, Dor. You're coming onto manhood nicely. Do not assume the Queen is your enemy. She wants her daughter to follow her, and knows what is required though she may resent it strongly. I am aware how ticklish the situation in the bedroom was. You handled it with the finesse I would expect in a leader."
That wasn't finesse! I meant every word!"
"Finesse and meaning are not mutually incompatible."
"Irene's not bad at all, once you get to know her! She--" Dor stopped, embarrassed. "What am I doing, telling you this? You're her father!"
The King clapped a friendly hand on Dor's shoulder. "You have pleased me, Magician. Now through your adventure, I know the secret of the flute and the hoop in the Royal arsenal; they could be extremely useful on occasion. I shall not keep you from the completion of your quest. You must wrap it up, for there will be assignments for you in today's world, as you learn to govern Xanth." He walked to a low bookshelf and brought out a rolled rug. "We saved this for your convenience." It was the magic carpet
"Uh, a, thanks, Your Majesty. I do have some traveling to do."
Dor mounted the rug. "Brain Coral," he told it, and it took off.
As the carpet ascended the sky and the landscape of modern Xanth opened out like a tapestry, Dor felt abrupt nostalgia for the tapestry world he had left. It was not that that world was superior to his own; its magic was generally cruder, its politics more violent. It was his experience of manhood and friendship, especially with Jumper. He knew he would never be able to recover the personal magic of that experience. Yet, as his session with Irene had shown, there was unexpected magic in this world too. All he had to do was appreciate it.
Down into the underworld, through the cavern passages. Goblins still reigned here, he knew, though they had almost disappeared on the surface of Xanth. What had happened to them? They had not all been slaughtered at the battle of Castle Roogna, and the forget spell would not have wiped them out Had there been some later goblin calamity?
Then he was at the subterranean lake. Modern transport was certainly an improvement over ancient; this had hardly taken any time at all.
No Goblin calamity, the Brain Coral thought to him. The harpy curse on the goblin populace was nullified on the surface, but lingered in the depths. Therefore the goblins above became, generation by generation, more intelligent, handsome, and noble, until they were no longer recognizable as monsters. The only true goblins today are those of the caverns.
"Then I wiped out their specie
s!" Dor exclaimed. "In a way I never anticipated!"
Their species, as you knew it, was a horrendous distortion, a burden to themselves as much as to others. They cared so little for themselves they were glad to die in goblin-sea tactics when storming a castle. You did well in releasing them from their curse, and in restoring the male of the species to the harpies.
"About that," Dor said. "You gave up Prince Harold Harpy as a favor to me, and now I have come to return the favor, as I said I would."
No need, Magician. When you came two weeks ago, I did not make the connection. After all, you wore a different body when I first met you, eight centuries ago. But in the past two weeks I worked it out. You returned that favor eight hundred years ago.
"No, I came back here to my own time. So--"
You brought victory to King Roogna. Therefore his rival Magician Murphy retired from politics, preferring to wait until some better situation arose. He came to me.
"Murphy was exiled?" Dor asked, startled.
It was voluntary. King Roogna would have liked to have his company, but Murphy was restless. He is in my storage now. Perhaps one century I will release him, when Xanth has need of his talent. Now, in exchange for the harpy Prince, I have Murphy and Vadne, who may one day make a fine pair. You owe me nothing.
"I, uh, guess so, if you see it that way," Dor said.
"Still--"
"If ever you choose to travel from your body again, keep me in mind, the Coral thought. I learned a great deal about life, though I do not yet properly comprehend the sexual nature of Man.
"No one does," Dor said, smiling.
"I do not experience emotion. But in your body I did. I liked the little Princess.
"She is likable," Dor agreed. "Uh, look--I promised to have the access hoop shrunk back to ring size, but--"
Forgiven. Farewell, Magician.
"Farewell, Coral." The rug took off and zoomed back through the cavernly passages. When it emerged into the sky it hesitated, until Dor remembered that he had not told it where to go next. "Good Magician Humfrey's castle."
Dor was reminded again that Humfrey's castle stood where the Zombie Master's castle had once been. The two were of different designs; probably the site had been razed more than once, and rebuilt.