Rave Reviews for Recent Xanth Adventures
“The Xanth books constitute Anthony’s longest and most successful series…. They are intended to be kind- spirited, fun reading, a series of wondrous beasts and beings, and, most of all, an endless succession of outrageous puns.”
—Lee Killough, The Wichita Eagle
“Classic Xanthromancy! Air Apparent sends a company of adventurers on a quest through multiple Xanths, encountering absurdities, dancers, and romance but also finding themselves unwittingly involved in extremely complex intrigue.”
—Booklist
“Prolif c fantasy and SF author Anthony celebrates his thirtieth volume in the perpetually popular Xanth series with a tale of love’s struggle to overcome adversity. Filled with the requisite puns and plays on words, Stork Naked features both old and new Xanth residents caught up in a series of whirlwind events.”
—Library Journal
“Swell Foop is a fantasy confection, full of puns, clever mathematical and grammatical lessons…. Xanth fans will rejoice at this fast- paced romp.”
—Publishers Weekly
TWO
TO THE
FIFTH
TOR BOOKS BY PIERS ANTHONY
THE XANTH SERIES
Vale of the Vole
Heaven Cent
Man from Mundania
Demons Don’t Dream
Harpy Thyme
Geis of the Gargoyle
Roc and a Hard Place
Yon Ill Wind
Faun&Games
Zombie Lover
Xone of Contention
The Dastard
Swell Foop
Up in a Heaval
Cube Route
Currant Events
Pet Peeve
Stork Naked
Air Apparent
Two to the Fifth
Jumper Cable
THE GEODYSSEY SERIES
Isle of Woman
Shame of Man
Hope of Earth
Muse of Art
ANTHOLOGIES
Alien Plot
Anthonology
NONFICTION
Bio of an Ogre
How Precious Was That
While
Letters to Jenny
But What of Earth?
Ghost
Hasan
Prostho Plus
Race Against Time
Shade of the Tree
Steppe
Triple Detente
WITH ROBERRT R. MARGROFF
The Dragon’s Gold Series
Dragon’s Gold
Serpent’s Silver
Chimaera’s Copper
Orc’s Opal
Mouvar’s Magic
The E.S.P. Worm
The Ring
WITH FRANCES HALL
Pretender
WITH RICHARD GILLIAM
Tales from the Great Turtle
(Anthology)
WITH ALFRED TELLA
The Willing Spirit
WITH CLIFFORD A. PICKOVER
Spider Legs
WITH JAMES RICHEY AND
ALAN RIGGS
Quest for the Fallen Star
WITH JULIE BRADY
Dream a Little Dream
WITH JO ANNE TAUESCH
The Secret of Spring
WITH RON LEMING
The Gutbucket Quest
PIERS ANTHONY
TWO
TO THE
FIFTH
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
TWO TO THE FIFTH
Copyright © by 2008 by Piers Anthony Jacob
All rights reserved.
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN 978-0-7653-5894-3
First Edition: October 2008
First Mass Market Edition: October 2009
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS
1. Cyrus
2. Challenges
3. Assignment
4. Writer’s Block
5. Melete
6. Curse
7. Complications
8. Kadence
9. Violation
10. Dream
11. Play
12. Recruiting
13. Itinerary
14. Andromeda
15. Orienta
16. Layea
17. Lullaby
18. Ragna
19. Battle
Author’s Note
TWO
TO THE
FIFTH
1 CYRUS
Get the lead out of your ass.” Cyrus jumped, almost falling off his donkey. “Who said that?”
“Get thee to a nunnery.”
This time he placed the source. “You’re talking!” he said to the donkey.
“Who said that?” the animal said. “You’re talking.”
“You’re repeating what ever you have heard most recently,” Cyrus said, catching on. “That voice unit was supposed to be for braying. How can you speak words?”
“Defective workmanship,” the donkey said. “You installed the wrong unit.”
Cyrus sighed. So using lead instead of iron wasn’t his only error when he constructed the donkey. When the mechanical animal was too heavy to function effectively, Cyrus’s father Roland had given him blunt advice: remove the lead. So he had done so, and had a robot animal he could ride.
“Who said the other?” he asked. “About the nunnery. That’s like a monastery, isn’t it?”
“Your barbarian mother said it,” the donkey answered. “You weren’t paying attention. She was not referring to nuns.”
“Not?”
“Not. According to my defective data bank, it’s old Mun-danian slang for a house of ill repute.”
“What is that? I never heard of an ill house.”
“Naturally you wouldn’t know. You were created halfway innocent, for some obscure reason. But she thought it would make a man of you.”
“I’m not a man,” Cyrus protested. “I’m a cyborg. Half robot, half human. I will never be fully human.”
“That’s what comes of getting yourself delivered to a hu-manoid robot and a barbarian. If you wanted to be normal you should have selected a normal couple for parents.”
“I didn’t have a choice, you nutty and bolty contraption. They signaled the stork, not me.”
“Neither did I have a choice, half-breed.”
“Had you had one, you should have chosen a more competent builder,” Cyrus said with a halfway metallic smile.
“Indubitably. But since I’m stuck with you, how about giving me a name?”
“You’re an ass. An equine breed. So suppose I call you—”
“Forget it, cogbrain!”
Cyrus reconsidered. “Donkey won’t do?”
“Let’s abbreviate it. Don will do.”
“Don Donkey. Not phenomenally original.”
“Neither are you, cyborg.”
“It will do,” Cyrus agreed with resignation.
He rode on, careful not to remark on the animal’s jer
ky gait, lest he get another sour reminder of his clumsiness in assembling it. The varied terrain of the Land of Xanth passed, becoming less familiar as they got farther away from home. They were following one of the enchanted paths, so there was no danger.
Cyrus got thirsty, so fished a can of tsoda pop from a saddlebag. He was about to open it when it slipped out of his hand, fell to the ground, and rolled off the enchanted path. “Bleep,” he said. Because he had been assembled adult, he was able to use that term. It signaled spot disaffection with the situation.
There was a golden streak. Something zipped after the can, caught it in its mouth, and brought it back, holding it up. It was a dog made from pure gold.
“Thank you,” Cyrus said, accepting the can. The dog zipped away again. “I wonder what kind of creature that was?”
“A golden retriever, dummy,” Don said. “Check your memory bank.”
The donkey was right: the information was there. Cyrus simply hadn’t made the connection. “Thank you,” he said again.
“I’m low on fuel,” Don complained.
Cyrus considered. Chances of getting where they were going today were small, so there was no point in pushing it. “We’ll stop at the next grazing area we see,” he said.
“We’d better.”
They came to a small glade strewn with sticks and tufts of old dry grass. “And this is it,” Cyrus said, dismounting.
They stepped off the path. Don put his head down and picked up a stick with his mouth. He chewed, and the stick broke in two. He swallowed the pieces.
“Oh what a cute little horse!” a voice exclaimed. It was a rat her young pretty girl, in fact a l most nymphlike, but clot he d. She had flouncing bark brown hair and sky blue eyes.
Don lifted his head to view her. “I’m not a horse,” he said sourly. “I’m an ass.”
She looked bemused. “A what?”
“A donkey,” Cyrus said quickly, realizing that the Adult Conspiracy prevented her from knowing the other term. “A robot donkey. Call him Don.”
“Hello, Don,” she said shyly. “I’m Piper Nymph.”
“I don’t see a pipe,” Don said.
“I don’t have a pipe. It’s my name. My parents are Hiatus Human and Desiree Dryad. They named me”
Cyrus’s data bank oriented. He knew of them; Hiatus was the son of the late Zombie Master, with the talent of growing things like ears on walls. He had fallen in love with a tree nymph, a hamadryad, and finally married her after a seemingly hopeless quest. Cyrus was jealous; he had no romantic prospects at all. At any rate, that explained Piper’s nymphlike appearance: she was half nymph.
“What good are you?” Don asked.
“He’s an ass—I mean donkey,” Cyrus said quickly. “He has barnyard manners. Ignore him.”
“No, I’ll answer,” Piper said. “My talent is healing. That can be very useful. In fact I have a pet whirlwind I healed, Dusty.”
“A useful whirlwind?” Don asked, his voice fairly rusting with sarcasm.
“Sure. I’ll show you. What do you most need?”
“More dry wood. It’s my fuel. I’m a wood-burning robot ass.” Don obviously thought he had stifled her positive attitude.
Piper put two fingers to her mouth and made an ungirl-like whistle. In a moment a whirling cloud of dust cruised in toward them, tossing leaves and small twigs about. “This is Dusty,” she said as the whirlwind hovered beside her. “Dusty Dust Devil.”
“What an ill wind,” Don said.
The wind coalesced into a small horned creature. “Why thank you, asinine junk,” the little devil said.
Don took it in stride. “Can you bring me dry wood, you horny midget?”
“Please,” Piper said. “I’ve got a feeling there’s a bad word there”
The devil disappeared, becoming the dust devil. It whirled all around the glade and into the surrounding forest. In a moment it returned, filled with brush, and faded. A pile of dead branches fell to the ground as the devil formed.
Don stared. “That will hold me for three days!” He started chomping wood.
“Say thank you,” Cyrus murmured to the donkey.
“Why?” Don asked around a mouthful.
Cyrus realized that politeness was not part of the animal’s program. So he gave a reason that would make sense to a selfish creature“Because you want to encourage him to do it again some time, after you run out of fuel”
Don cocked an ear, understanding. “Thank you, Dusty”
The little devil blushed blue.
“Say you’re welcome,” Piper murmured.
“You’re welcome”
Don paused in midchomp. He was coming to appreciate the possible benefits of common courtesy.
Piper smiled. She was pretty when she did that. “It’s nice to see folk get along,” she said.
Too bad she was only thirteen years old, according to Cyrus’s data bank: too young to be a prospect for romance. Not that Cyrus knew anything about romance.
They had to wait while the donkey took in the pile of wood. “What are you doing here?” Cyrus asked the nymph.
“I’m just widening my horizons,” she said. “Every year mother lets me wander farther from the tree. By the time I’m adult, I should be familiar with the whole area. Already today I met a man with the talent of selective friction: he can move anywhere, because if he’s on slippery ice, he can make one foot have a lot of friction, and push with it, then change to the other foot.”
“So what good is that?” Don asked. “There’s no ice here.”
“Maybe some day there’ll be ice,” Piper said. “Or something else that’s slippery or soupy.”
“What do you want to do when you are adult?” Cyrus asked, partly to stop the donkey from being obnoxious. But also because he did not know what he wanted to do, and perhaps she would give him an idea.
“I’d like to be an actress, I think,” she said. “To be in a play and have people watch me and applaud. I wouldn’t even have to be famous. I’d just like to be on stage”
That seemed like a curious ambition, but Cyrus’s caution-circuit prevented him from saying so. “I hope you find your play.”
“I hope so too.” Piper looked around. “I’d better get home; mother worries when I’m out alone too long. She’s afraid I’ll run afoul of some strange man or something”
Like a cyborg? That, too, was worth not saying. “Tell her you met a robot donkey with asinine manners.”
“I will,” she said. “Come on, Dusty; I’ll race you to the tree”
The little devil became the whirlwind. Dust devil and girl took off into the forest, racing each other.
Meanwhile Don had finished the pile of wood. His belly was full; it would, as he said, burn for three days, keeping him hot and active.
As the day waned they came to a camping area. There were pie trees galore, and a nice caterpillar tent.
As they approached the tent, a young woman emerged. She looked lean and aggressive. Could she be barbarian?
“Who the bleep are you?” she demanded. “This tent is mine; I got here first. Go away”
Cyrus sifted through his data banks. “Enchanted Path Camping Sites are open to all legitimate travelers,” he said. “We are legitimate.”
“What, you and that dumb ass?”
“I’m an ass, but I’m not dumb,” Don said. “I’m a smart ass. How smart is your ass, wench?” He eyed her posterior.
The woman stared, evidently taken aback, or at least paused in place. “You talk!”
“Let’s exchange introductions,” Cyrus said hastily. “I am Cyrus Cyborg, and this is Don, a robot donkey.”
“He’s got a bleeping potty mouth on him.”
“Look who’s talking, you bleeping tart”
Cyrus interposed again. “And you are?”
“Tess,” she said aggressively. “Tess Tosterone. I have a problem”
Don opened his mouth. Cyrus hastily stuffed a scrounged piece of wood into it. “
May we inquire what it is?”
“I’m too pushy. They tell me I need S Trojan to fix it. But I don’t know who or where or what he is, so I’m irritable”
Cyrus’s data bank sifted again. “Trojan is one name of the Night Stallion who runs the dream realm. The horse of a different color. But he doesn’t have a first name.”
“Then it must be someone else. What would I want with a horse? Your talking mule is bad enough. Now are you going to clear out of here and let me be?”
Don had chewed and swallowed the stick. “Listen, harridan—”
Cyrus made another effort to settle things politely, though her attitude was both annoying and intriguing. “We feel we have equal rights to camp here, so we won’t be moving on tonight. Why do you object to sharing?”
“Because you’re a man,” Tess said bluntly. “All you men want only one thing”
This interested him. “What is that?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know, you jerk!”
“I’m not pretending. I don’t know. That’s why I’m traveling to see the Good Magician. I hope he will tell me what I truly want”
Tess gazed at him, taking stock. “You’re serious.”
“I am a serious person, yes.”
“And a cyborg.”
“Yes.”
“What’s a cyborg?”
“I am a robot-human crossbreed, part alive, part machine. I am not sure in which category I best belong”
She studied him. “You look completely human.”
“Yes, I am crafted to be, externally. But my bones are iron, and I have a memory bank and consciousness chip in my iron skull. I am programmed to have a human outlook. My parents assembled me carefully.”
“Actually, you’re one handsome male specimen, with a perfect rough-hewn face, fairly wild hair, and nice muscles.”
“My mother is a barbarian. She likes that type.”
“She has good taste in men. Your appearance is appealing to women.”
“It is? I did not know.”
“And you really don’t know what all men want.”
“True. The information may be in my data bank, but I need a more specif c description to evoke it. If you know, I would appreciate it if you would tell me. It might save me a year’s service with the Good Magician”
Tess laughed, surprising him. “It might indeed. Very well, I will share the tent with you, and maybe by morning you will figure it out for yourself.”