But now he would not be put off. The thing he most feared was recognition; he had to face it now. "Millie--when you were young--before you were a ghost--did you have friends?"
She laughed again, and this time he noticed the fullness and rondure of her body as it laughed with her. "Of course I had friends!"
"Who were they? You never told me." His heart was beating hard.
She frowned. "You're serious, aren't you? But I can't tell you. There was a forget spell detonated in the vicinity, and as a ghost I was near it a long time. I don't remember my friends."
The forget spell! It had made her forget...him. Yet he tried, perversely, driven by an urge he refused to define. "How--did you die?"
"Someone enchanted me. Turned me into a book--"
A book! The book he had found in the dumbwaiter leading from the female room. Vadne must have transformed her into it, then hoisted that tome to the upper floor, and no one had caught on. A stupid mistake, courtesy of Murphy's curse. He himself had placed it on the shelf in the library--where it had remained eight hundred years, unmolested.
"I couldn't even remember what my body was, or where," Millie continued. "Or maybe a spell was on that too. So much was vague, especially at first--and then I was a ghost, and it was easier not to think about it. Ghosts don't have very solid minds." She paused, studying Dor. "But sometimes there are flashes. Your father reminded me of someone--someone I think I loved--but I can't quite remember. Anyway, he's eight hundred years dead, now, and there is Jonathan. I've known Jonathan for centuries, and he's awful nice. When I was alone and lonely and confused, especially after King Roogna died and the Castle fell into oblivion--he had a long and good reign, but it had to end sometime--Jonathan came and helped me to hold on. He didn't seem to mind that I was only a ghost. If only--"
So she had loved Dor--and forgotten, in the ambience of the forget spell. His name and talent--no giveaway after all. Nothing in his birth and youth in this world had alerted her, since she had never known the origin of that bygone hero, and she could hardly be expected to make the connection.
Only Jonathan had been her comfort across the centuries. She had not forgotten Jonathan, because he had always been there. A ghost and a restless zombie, bolstering each other when the rest of the world had forgotten them. Why torture her by restoring her memory of prior heartache? Dor knew what he had to do.
"Millie, I have obtained the elixir to restore Jonathan to life." He held up the vial.
She stared at him, unbelieving. "Dor--now I remember something. Your father--he reminded me of you. Not in appearance, but in--"
"I wasn't born yet!" Dor said harshly, repenting his recent urge to have her remember exactly this. "You've got it backward. I remind you of my father--because I am growing up."
"Yes, yes of course," she agreed uncertainly. "Only somehow--your talent of--I remember talking to pearls in a big nest, or something--"
"Take the elixir," he said, presenting it to her. "Call Jonathan." Oh, Jonathan, he thought in momentary agony. Do you know you fill the shoes of her lover, and of her betrothed? Be good to her, for the sake of what was never allowed to be!
Millie was too distracted to take the vial. "I--still, there is something. A big barbarian named--"
"Jonathan!" Dor bellowed as well as his present body permitted. "Come here!"
The door opened, for Jonathan was always near Millie. The loyalty of centuries! He shuffled into the kitchen, dripping the usual clods of dirt and mold. No matter how much fell, a zombie always had more; it was part of the enchantment. His body was skeletal, his eyes rotten sockets, and the nauseating odor of putrefaction was about him.
"Yet I know now that was only passing fascination," Millie continued. "The barbarian left me, while Jonathan stayed."
Dor tore open the corked vial. "Take this!" he cried, hurling the precious drops onto the zombie.
Immediately the body began to heal. Flesh was magically restored, tissues filled out, skin formed and cleared. The figure unhunched, became fuller, taller.
"And so my true love is Jonathan," Millie concluded. Then she looked up, realizing what transformation was taking place, and her hair flung out as of old. "Jonathan!" she screamed.
Rapidly the last of the zombie attributes disappeared. The figure shaped into a gaunt but healthy living man.
"The Zombie Master!" Dor exclaimed, recognizing him at last. "I never knew your given name!"
Then he stepped back out of the way, letting true love assume its rightful place. Jonathan and Millie came together, she with a little skip-kicking of feet, and Dor knew his quest was done.
Piers Anthony, Castle Roogna
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends