Ghost Writer in the Sky Read online

  Tartan found this interesting, and was sure the others did too. They all listened closely, letting Isis carry it. How could systematic ignorance ever be justified?

  “I have lived four thousand years or more,” Isis said grimly. “I have learned much about the human condition, and am seldom if ever wrong, especially when it comes to forbidden desires. I suggest this deal: if you can provide us with three good reasons to maintain this so-called Adult Conspiracy, we will lead you out of the maze so you can resume your work.” She glanced around for confirmation, and the others nodded, satisfied with that deal.

  AC did not hesitate. “First, the esthetic: children must be shielded from the seamier sides of life, particularly the language. Otherwise in their ignorance they will parrot things like ‘Jam your bleep up your bleeping bleep, bleephead!’”

  The corn husks at AC’s feet curled and smoked.

  “He’s got a point,” Tara said as her ears blushed. “Foul-mouthed children are a menace. I have heard it said that children should be seen, not obscene.” Others nodded.

  “We’ll give you reason #1,” Isis conceded.

  “Two: the practical. Children must not prematurely learn the secret of summoning the stork, because then they will irresponsibly start doing it themselves and get babies delivered that they are in no way prepared to care for. It takes about eighteen years—longer for some—to gain the maturity and responsibility necessary to properly care for and raise a child. Sad indeed will be the fate of babies delivered to careless and ignorant children. Even if such babies survive, they will be warped.”

  Tartan was impressed, and he could see that the others were too. Child abuse was not a pleasant thing to contemplate, and it would be inevitable if children were in charge of children.

  “But even if the babies survive, it would be a horror for adults, who would soon enough cease to exist,” AC continued inexorably. “The phenomenon has occurred in the animal kingdom. It is called neoteny, wherein the juvenile stages learn to breed on their own, cutting out the adult stage entirely. There would soon enough be nothing but children, the adult stage being discarded as no longer necessary. That is a formula for the destruction of civilization.”

  “Neoteny,” Tartan repeated. “I have heard of it, among primitive species.”

  “Primitive for a reason,” AC agreed. “Any advanced evolution is prevented in favor of the wicked joy of breeding young.”

  “We’ll give you reason #2,” Isis said thoughtfully.

  “Three: philosophical. The most precious thing a baby brings to this world is innocence. The process of maturing is the slow destruction of that innocence, which once corrupted can never be restored. It behooves all adults to safeguard that innocence as long as is humanly possible. That is what makes humanity human, in contrast to the animals. The Adult Conspiracy, frustrating as it may at times be for children, is the first bulwark against the destruction of that innocence. Children don’t understand it because they are innocent, but it is protecting them in a way nothing else can. Only as adults can they come to appreciate its benefits, and support it.”

  Isis looked around, spreading her hands. AC had won the day.

  “Follow us,” Tartan said. “We’re on our way to interview the off-duty wives of the Good Magician. We’ll lead you out of the maze.” Like bee, like personification: they aimed to help.

  Tata resumed his sniffing and led them across the field of stubble to the resumption of the growing corn.

  Before long they were out, and so was AC. “Thank you,” he said. “Is there any favor I can do you in return?”

  “No need,” Tartan said. “We made a deal, remember?”

  AC nodded. “We did indeed. Perhaps we shall someday meet again.” He walked away.

  There was a streamlet passing by. “Oh, I’m thirsty,” Amara said. She knelt and dipped out a small cup of water, and drank it.

  “Oh, we forgot!” Tara said. “We aren’t supposed to drink the water here.”

  “The Kiss Mee River,” Amara said, stricken. “This must be a tributary, akin to a dilute love spring.” She paused. “But I don’t feel like kissing anyone.”

  “Let me try that,” Tartan said. He dipped his finger in the water and put it to his mouth. “Oops!” He enfolded Tara and kissed her five times in half a moment before the effect wore off. “It’s Kiss Mee all right.”

  “Then why didn’t I—” Amara broke off. “I must be immune!”

  “You must be,” Emerald said. “That maybe explains your disinterest in romance.”

  Amara nodded. “It surely does.”

  “But isn’t that a second talent?”

  Amara considered. “Maybe not. It may be inherent to my condition.”

  “But the rest of us had better not drink the local water,” Tartan said. “Not that I mind kissing Tara.”

  “I didn’t have the impression you minded,” Tara said, smiling.

  Tata sniffed the path, and they followed him to, lo, a big cottage cheese. They were there!

  “If these are five secluded ladies,” Tara said, “maybe we shouldn’t approach them in a gang. They may be shy of strangers. Suppose I go up and inquire first?”

  “This course seems right,” Dolin agreed.

  They hung back and waited while Tara went to the door. A hooded woman answered. They conversed briefly, then Tara turned and waved them in.

  “We were expecting you,” the hooded woman said. “Come in.”

  “Expecting us?” Tartan asked, surprised.

  “AC stopped by. He said you were good folk. He said you even rescued a lost bee from the maize. He’s a good judge of people. So we are welcoming you as visitors. It does get dull on occasion, here.”

  So AC had done them a favor after all.

  Inside the cottage, which did not smell of cheese at all, settled on soft chairs, with tea and biscuits, they got to the introductions. “As you surely know, the Good Magician is allowed to have only one wife at a time,” the hooded one said. “So we are on monthly rotation. That’s fine; we each have five months on our own between sessions. I am the Gorgon, the fifth wife; I do not show my face because it is lethal.” The veil she wore seemed to smile. “We are not much concerned with intruders. Any who come are at risk to become stone ornaments.”

  Isis manifested. “That seems appropriate.”

  The Gorgon nodded. “AC mentioned you too, Goddess. I am glad to meet you at last.”

  “If I may inquire . . . ?”

  The veil smiled again. “You may wonder why the Good Magician would ever want to marry a creature like me. He did not fear me; he had magic to blank out my gaze and make it harmless. But marriage is a more serious matter. Never mind that when we met he was between wives and his socks were piling up and threatening to obscure the castle in their stench; the premises badly needed a woman’s attention. He was by then too set in his ways to change. So I preempted the matter by formally asking him a Question he was obliged to Answer: would he marry me?”

  A smile verging on a chuckle overlapped the group of them, wives and visitors alike.

  “He made me do a year’s service before he Answered, as was his custom,” the Gorgon continued. “That was not as arrogant as it might seem. By the time I put his house in order, not only was I thoroughly conversant with it, but I understood him far better than I had before. I could have given it up as a bad job and departed, as he well knew. But, armed with the knowledge of exactly what the job entailed, I stayed, and became his wife. I remained until he went to Hell and fetched back the other wives.”

  “But then how can you—” Tara started.

  “We all die of natural causes in the course of time,” the Gorgon explained. “In Hell the others met each other and concluded that on the whole they preferred being wives to being dead. So when he had dealings there, we all returned, and set up the rotation that now
obtains. We are technically on leave from Hell.”

  “Oh,” Tara said faintly. “Thank you.”

  “I am the Maiden Taiwan, the second wife,” a petite woman said. “I am technically 183 years old, going by the calendar rather than years of life. They tell me I do not look it.”

  “You look about thirty,” Tartan said.

  “Thank you. We do have access to youth elixir, now, but try to use it sparingly.”

  A lovely young woman spoke next. “I am Princess Rose of Roogna, Wife number three.”

  A somewhat homely woman was next. “I am Sofia Mundane. He married me to keep his socks in order. They really needed it.”

  Then came a cute teenager. “I am MareAnn, with the talent of summoning equines. I am a year older than the Maiden Taiwan, but I prefer to be the age I was when I met and fell in love with Humfrey, the Good Magician. We were fifteen.” She smiled. “I am known as the half wife; it was a small ceremony. I loved him first, but married him last, because of complications along the way.” She smiled again. “At first I was innocent, as I needed to be to summon unicorns. But Hell is hard on innocence, so after that I was ready to marry him, belatedly.”

  “Missing is Dara Demoness, his first wife,” the Gorgon said. “She happens to be this month’s Designated Wife.”

  “We’ve met,” Tartan said. “In another reality.”

  “You surely have an interesting background story,” the Gorgon said.

  “We do.” Tartan introduced the members of their party, and explained how they got lost in the wrong reality. “We believe that we need to see a good map of the assorted realities, so that we can pinpoint our own and return to it without further error,” he concluded. “We understand that those maps are contained in the Book of Lost Answers, and that one of you may know where that Book is. So we come to you to plead for access to that book, so we can safely go home.”

  There was two thirds of a silence. “This is awkward,” the Gorgon said before the silence could become firmly established. “That Book is dangerous. It is true that it tends to make food spoil in its vicinity, contributing to an unkind odor, but the problem is more than that. There are answers therein that deserve to be lost, because they could seriously disrupt life in Xanth and cause needless suffering. We do not want anyone to know where it is.”

  “We are not seeking forbidden answers, just the maps,” Tartan said. “We will be happy to have a—a supervised visit, so that you can be sure we look at nothing else.”

  “That is not feasible,” the Gorgon said. “The Book itself is lost. We do not have it here. The best we could do would be to tell you where we lost it, so that you might search it out on your own. Thus you would have no supervision.”

  “We could give you our solemn word to look only at the maps,” Tartan said.

  “But temptation can be a wicked thing,” the Gorgon said. “It is hard to be sure who will succumb to it, and the more people there are, the more likely it becomes that at least one will yield, despite having given his or her word.”

  A glance verging on desperation circled around their group. “Please, we really need this,” Emerald said. “Is there any way we can reassure you?”

  “There is one way,” the Gorgon said. “But you may not wish to do that.”

  “What is that?”

  “To undergo the Test of the Roses.”

  “The what?”

  “Rose maintains a small garden of rather special roses. Their magic makes them respond to the sentiment of the person who touches one. If that sentiment is true, the person may pluck and keep that rose, or give it to another as a harmless gift. But if the sentiment is false, the thorns of the roses will rend that person’s hand.” The Gorgon made half a pause. “The thing is, the person who seeks to take a rose may not be aware that his (generic he) sentiment is false. He thus risks suffering a grievous scratch, and humiliation. So the roses can be used to verify an uncertain sentiment, such as friendship or love, or to deny it. That is the Test of the Roses.”

  “But all we want is to see the maps,” Tartan protested. “Friendship and love are different matters.”

  “True. But there needs to be a certain background integrity and commitment in order to be a true friend or true love. A person who can take a rose without injury can be trusted. We will trust any of you who successfully takes a rose. But it may be risky to make the attempt.”

  “We’re a group,” Tartan said. “We’re not going to leave any of our members behind because he or she (no generic he) is not ready to take such a challenge.”

  “We understand,” the Gorgon said. “If you are not sure of all of your members, then it is better not to take that test.”

  “In which case you won’t help us find the Book.”

  “That is true. We dislike phrasing it so starkly, but we long ago discussed it and came to our joint decision. Since even with our help you may not be able to locate the Book, the test could be wasted anyway. It seems like a bad bargain.”

  “Let’s take a vote,” Tara said grimly.

  What choice did they have? “I will call the roll,” Tartan said. “I think for this we need more than a majority. I think we need all of us, hosts included.”

  “We do,” Tara agreed.

  They paused, but no one objected.

  “Then as I call your name, repeat it to verify your identity, and say yes to taking a rose, or no. Tartan,” Tartan said. “Tartan votes yes. Demon Ted.”

  “Demon Ted votes yes,” his host said aloud.

  “Tara.”

  “Tara votes yes.”

  “DeMonica.”

  “DeMonica votes yes,” Tara’s host said.

  “Prince Dolin.”

  “Dolin votes yes.”

  “Dolin’s host.”

  “Dolin’s anonymous host votes yes.”

  Tartan hesitated. “Can he be anonymous for this?”

  The Gorgon looked at Rose of Roogna, who nodded. “What counts is his sincerity, not his name.”

  Good enough. “Princess Emerald.”

  “Emerald votes yes. That includes my dragon aspect.”

  “Amara.”

  “Amara votes yes.”

  “The Goddess Isis.”

  Isis manifested. “Isis votes yes.”

  “The Magician Bernard.”

  “Bernard votes yes.”

  “Tata Dogfish.”

  “Woof.”

  “Um, let’s do this: if you vote yes, go to Amara. If you vote no, come to me.”

  The dog walked to Amara.

  “And one more, I think. Princess Eve?”

  “Woof.”

  “If you vote yes, go to Prince Dolin. If no, go to Emerald.”

  The dog walked to Dolin.

  “Then we are united,” Tartan concluded, relieved. “We will take the roses.”

  “This is impressive,” the Gorgon said. “Both in the members of your entourage, and their commitment.”

  “We all want to get safely home,” Tartan said. “We may be in doubt about other things, but unified in that.”

  “About doubt,” Mera said hesitantly. “I would like to check in the Book for one other thing.”

  “What is that?” Tartan asked.

  “I prefer not to say, at least at this time. It may come to nothing.”

  “But if it relates to the Book, it must affect the rose you take.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it in any way concern an affair of the heart?” the Gorgon asked.

  “Yes. But it complicates it.”

  The Gorgon pondered half a moment. “Choose one of us in whom to confide. She will judge your case and keep your secret. Will you compromise to that extent?”

  “Yes. I choose MareAnn.”

  The fifteen-year-old young woman stood. “Come
to my stall, please.”

  The two left together. “I continue to be impressed,” the Gorgon said. “And curious as, if you will excuse the expression in this context, hell about her concern.”

  Emerald laughed. “Aren’t we all! But she’s a good person, even in her mystery, and a vital member of this party. I’m sure she means no ill.” The others agreed.

  Mera and MareAnn returned. “It will do,” MareAnn said. “Her rose should cover this too. Let her check the Book for this one other thing.” Then she hugged Mera. “I hope you get the answer you need, my dear.”

  “Thank you.” Tartan noticed that both women had tears in their eyes.

  Rose of Roogna stood. “This way, please.”

  She led them out behind the cottage. There was a nicely cultivated garden with roses of five colors: red, white, yellow, pink, and black. All of them turned on their stems to orient on the arriving group. It was as if they knew what was going on, perhaps better than the people did.

  “These are the relevance of the colors,” Rose of Roogna said. “Red is Love. White is Indifference. Yellow is Friendship. Pink is Romance. And Black is Death. Each of you thirteen must speak your piece and take a rose. If any of you are rejected, I will not tell you where I hid the Book. To make this quite clear, I will demonstrate.”

  They watched, uncertain what she meant to do. “This is eerie,” Ted said privately to Tartan.

  The woman went to stand before a white rose. “I am indifferent to the fate of these good folk,” she said. Then she put her hand to the stem.

  The thorn moved so swiftly they hardly saw it. Blood welled from the slash on her hand. Tartan winced, and knew that several others were doing the same.

  Rose of Roogna tilted a small vial in her other hand, and a drop fell on the wound. Immediately the skin closed up and the flow of blood ceased. “Fortunately I have some healing elixir handy,” she said. That was obviously no coincidence.

  She focused again on the rose. “I am indifferent to the fate of the nearby nickelpede pit.” She reached out to the stem, this time it broke off in her hand, and she held the white rose, uninjured. “That is my rose for today. I must wait another day to take another, but I trust it makes the point. Are there any questions?”