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  Dell focused, and realized that beneath the clothing and elaborate makeup the folk here were not completely healthy. In fact they were zombies.

  He turned to step back through the door into the station, but it was gone. There was nothing but more zombies. Some were fresh to the point of almost looking alive; others were ripe to the point of cadaverousness. Dell appeared to be the only live person here.

  He was in another Challenge. How was he to get out of this one?

  “Welcome to the Zombie Ball,” a gravely voice said from rusty speakers in the walls. “We will start with a square dance, as most of us are hopelessly square. Choose your partners and form your sets.”

  Dell looked desperately around, but found no escape. Zombies were everywhere, coming together and forming couples.

  He tried to thread his way between them to get somewhere, anywhere else, but stepped smack into a woman. She had stringy black hair, black eyes, and black teeth. Apart from that she was not bad-looking. He was up against her before he could retreat, smelling her body odor of decay. “Uh, sorry,” he said, trying to extricate himself from her embrace. She was soft, but not in a way he favored.

  “No, I am glad to have a partner,” she said. “Before my feet rot.”

  “Uh, that’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant. That was humor. And that’s my perfume you smell. I’m really not that far gone. I retain almost all of my living properties, so far.”

  “Uh, I didn’t mean that either. I’m just—really, I don’t belong here.”

  “Ah, you’re new. So well preserved! You must have died only hours ago. What a pleasure! I am Zephyr. Zephyr Zombie. I died two weeks ago.”

  He tried to explain, but all he could think of was his name. “I am Dell. But I don’t belong here. I’m not dead.”

  “Oh, you’re still in denial? You’ll get over that.”

  “No, I—”

  SETS IN ORDER, the speakers boomed. FOR THE CADAVER MARCH.

  Zephyr grabbed his hand in hers and turned him around. They now represented one side of a square of four couples.

  Dell was repelled. Then he remembered his discussion with Nia: he should consider girls who were other than pretty. Zephyr was no pretty girl, but not at all ugly for a zombie. He had no future with her, obviously, for multiple reasons, but for an exercise in tolerance she was perfect. He should try to see the virtues in her.

  So he would dance. He had little experience with square dances, partly because he had never had a girlfriend to do one with, but he understood the general gist. There was a caller who called out the moves, and the dancers followed his directions. So anyone could do it, if he knew the moves.

  In fact, that was probably why the zombies were doing it, because they were not known for long memories or complicated understandings; they were much into the here and now, and not necessarily all of that, depending on the preservation of their brains. So in that sense, he was a good zombie.

  HONOR TO YOUR CORNER, the speakers called.

  Dell turned to his left and bowed to the girl nearest him, on the left side of the square. She bowed back. She was a quite shapely creature who was almost bald from loss of hair, and one eye had sunk back into her skull, but she moved well enough.

  HONOR TO YOUR PARTNER.

  He turned to bow to Zephyr. She looked almost pretty in comparison to his corner, as she had all her features. Already he was appreciating her!

  DO SI DO AROUND YOUR CORNER.

  He crossed his arms in front of him and danced around his corner lady, back to back, returning to his place.

  SWING YOUR PARTNER.

  He took Zephyr into his arms and swung with her, expecting awkwardness, but discovering that she was quite apt at this. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that she was a real girl.

  PROMENADE THE HALL.

  He linked arms with her and they scoop-stepped counterclockwise around the edge of the ballroom.

  “Admit it,” she said. “You like it.”

  And she had him dead (as it were) to rights. He liked being in a dance with a girl, even if she was not exactly a real live girl. “Yeah.”

  There was a break between dances. Zephyr hooked her arm in his and led him to a private patio in a somber zombie garden. It seemed that she had become his date.

  “You dance very well,” she said. Her hair seemed to have thickened and her teeth were white. Even the eye shadow was wearing off; it must be makeup for the dance. Indeed, she was not very far gone.

  “Uh—” he said.

  “But of course you still have good coordination. You must have died only hours ago, so everything’s still fresh. I bet you can even still make love.”

  “I didn’t die!” he protested.

  She gazed at him with pity. “Of course,” she agreed softly, no longer trying to debate his denial. “In that case you still have those living hormones. Would you like to summon the stork with me? I assure you that my central body is intact and firm, and I’d love to do it once more while I still can. It’s harder on men; the extremities are the first to go, like the tips of the fingers, and they have an extra extremity. You’ll lose it within days, so you can’t afford to wait.” She caught herself. “But of course you’re alive. So you can prove it readily enough. Living men are virile, as zombie men aren’t. Let’s find a bed.” She looked around as she opened her gown to reveal some impressive central body intactness.

  The weird thing was that he was seriously tempted. Her upper architecture did not freak him out, it merely made him urgently want to get closer to it.

  But she was a zombie, and he was in a Challenge. This was no good. His job was to find his way out of the scene, and dallying with her was unlikely to accomplish that. “No,” he said regretfully.

  She gazed at him a full moment and a half. A tear formed in the corner of her left eye, washing out more of the makeup. It wrenched at his heart. “You find me ugly,” she murmured sorrowfully. “Because I’m a zombie.”

  He could not deny it. She was a zombie, albeit a fresh one with considerable sex appeal. Living men had no business with zombies. Certainly the stork would never honor a zombie signal, so that aspect was pointless. “I’m sorry.”

  “Would you at least kiss me before you go?”

  That much he could do. He took her in his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth. For half a moment it was heavenly.

  Then she was gone, and he was standing alone on the path leading to the Good Magician’s Castle.

  “So you made it through,” Grania said behind him.

  He turned and saw her. “Two Challenges, I think. I guess you did too.”

  “I guess I did,” she agreed. “Before we get into the third one, let’s compare notes. I have the feeling that there is more to this business than just getting to the Castle.”

  “I—I kissed a zombie.”

  She laughed. “So did I. It seems that was the requirement for getting through. To show that much tolerance. Most folk would never knowingly do it.” She grimaced. “Though my husband once said, toward the end of our real relationship, that with me it felt like kissing a zombie. I thought he was just trying to insult me. Too late I realized that it was literal. He had a case.” She shook her head. “I remembered that when the zombie man wanted to kiss me. I was determined to show him that I was not a zombie. I put real feeling into it. I guess I succeeded, because then I was out.”

  Dell told her about his experiences with the subway train and the Zombie Ball, and she nodded wisely. Then she told him of hers.

  Nia found herself on what she recognized as a Mundane train car. In fact, a subway. All perfectly ordinary, except for one thing: she was the only one wearing pants or skirt. What was going on?

  Then she remembered something she had heard of, in the course of myriad incidental encounters: how once a yea
r in certain parts of Mundania they had No Pants Day, when nobody wore pants. How some of the girls really enjoyed showing off their nice legs, and maybe a bit more. So that background had been borrowed for this Challenge. Her task was to find a way out of it without messing things up.

  So she quickly and quietly took off her skirt, rolled it up, tucked it under her arm, and stood in her underpants. Now she was anonymous, because she was one of Them. They were all mock-ups anyway, breathing, making token motions, but not paying attention. One pretty young woman was seated, crossing and uncrossing her legs every so often. That would freak out any visiting Xanth male, because the motions would attract the eye and a bit of her panties showed between her legs when they moved. Of course it had no effect on Grania.

  Then a man turned around, attracting her attention. And she almost freaked out, catching herself just in time. He was wearing tights made of material that affected women! They weren’t common, but she had heard of them too. She quickly looked away.

  It was time to get off the train. So she reached up and yanked on the cord loop just over her head, twice, signaling her stop. There was a faint beep-beep and the train started to slow down. Soon it stopped, and she stepped off. It drew away behind her.

  Now she was in the subway station. She paused to unroll her skirt and put it back on. Then she walked along the platform until she came to a door marked EXIT. She opened it and went out.

  And found herself in the Zombie Ball.

  “Aaaa, mmy datze,” a zombie man said, taking her arm. Half his hair was missing, along with one ear and several teeth. Apart from that he was reasonably handsome, if you liked that type. “I amm Zzorb.”

  Oops! She didn’t want to make a scene, but this was not something she cared to get into. But what could she do? It was the next Challenge. So she played along. “I am Nia. I am educated to meet you, Zzorb.”

  They wound up in a square dance. She hadn’t done one of those in decades and wasn’t sure she had the energy. But a balk might be mischief.

  Dell, she thought. And felt a surge of his young energy. Maybe it was all in her mind, but it would do. She made it through the first dance in fine fettle, especially considering that the seven zombies in that square had motion troubles of their own.

  Then they took a walk in the garden, and Zzorb wanted to kiss her. Oh no! For one thing, his lips were not quite all there. But she had made it through the subway train by playing along, and she hesitated to hurt even a zombie’s feelings by refusal, so she nerved herself, held her breath, and did the same. She kissed him. At least his mouth was firmer than it looked.

  And found herself standing back on the path to the Good Magician’s Castle. In a moment Dell popped into view, facing away from her.

  “So you made it through,” she said. A part of her was bemused that at her age, with all her insights from experience, she was reduced to kissing a zombie instead of a live man.

  “So it seems that all we had to do was understand and accept,” she concluded. “You did it the hard way, at least with the train.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, embarrassed because he had not handled it nearly as smoothly as she had. The wisdom of experience certainly counted.

  “And it seems we did help each other. You heard my voice, and I felt your energy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are we ready for the next Challenge?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “Right. But we’re already farther along than I expected. We certainly don’t want to quit now.”

  “We don’t,” he agreed. “Better to fail trying, than not to try.”

  “Forward march.”

  They stepped forward together.

  A man appeared in the path ahead, holding two tablets. “Greetings, candidates,” he said.

  “Zzorb!” Grania exclaimed, surprised. That was the zombie she said she had danced with and kissed.

  The man smiled. “This is another role. I am of course an actor in the Challenges; it is part of my service for the Answer I received.”

  Oh. Of course there had to be folk playing the roles, where contact was necessary.

  “You look better with your stage makeup off,” Nia said.

  It occurred to Dell that the man probably kissed better when not emulating a zombie, too.

  “Thank you,” Zzorb said. “I am glad you navigated the Challenge. You kiss very well. But this is business.” He faced the two of them. “Take this tablet and write out your answers to the questions herein. When you have done one, turn the tablet over and the proper answer will be revealed. Then grade yourself for a plus or minus, depending on whether you got it right or wrong. Your placement among a typical hundred test takers will show when you complete it. Do not skip any items; the Challenge is not complete until you do. If you have any questions of your own, stifle them.” He handed one tablet to each of them and disappeared, literally.

  Dell exchanged a glance with Nia. This was not at all what he had expected, though he had not actually expected anything. Then he sat on a hummock and peered at his tablet. Grania found another place to sit and contemplated hers.

  HOW MANY INNOCENT MAIDENS CAN A DRAGON EAT IN FIVE MINUTES?

  Dell stared at the first question, flummoxed. It really depended on how big the dragon was, how big the maiden, how hungry the dragon was, and who could tell how innocent she was? There were so many variables that a firm answer was impossible.

  He glanced across at Nia. She shrugged, not giving him a hint. Of course; that would be cheating. So he compromised by taking the stylus and writing down ONE.

  He turned over the tablet. THE ANSWER IS THREE.

  So he had missed it, unsurprisingly. At the foot of the backside of the tablet was the score box. He marked a minus one.

  He turned the tablet back over. Now the second question showed. IS N LARGER THAN NOT-N?

  He had no idea what either N or not-N was; either or both could be infinite. So he had to guess. NO. Could that be what N stood for?

  He turned over the tablet. THE ANSWER IS YES.

  So was NO larger than NOT NO, which would be YES? His mind was getting uncomfortably twisted. He marked another minus for his score.

  The third question was HOW MUCH WOOD WOULD A WOODCHUCK CHUCK?

  Didn’t that depend on the supply of wood, and the size of the pieces, and the energy and inclination of the woodchuck? But these questions were so crazy that he was already resigned to failing the test. He wrote. FIVE BOLTS. The answer turned out to be TEN BOLTS.

  HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE A SIREN TO SEDUCE A VILLAGE LOUT? He answered ONE MINUTE. The keyed answer was FIVE SECONDS. So he marked down his fifth miss.

  WHO MADE THE GOURD REALM? He answered no one; it was always there. The keyed answer turned out to be THE NIGHT STALLION.

  He stared at it. That was just plain wrong! The Night Stallion was merely the current overseer of the dream realm. But he marked himself wrong again, not arguing with the crazy folk what had made this test. Why bother? His cause was probably already lost.

  So it continued through a hundred questions, none of them sensible to him. The last one was WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS TEST?

  That was easy. IT STINKS!

  The keyed answer was IT IS PERFECT FOR ITS PURPOSE.

  He had missed them all. Now his score showed: Zero. Of one hundred participants, he was last.

  Nia finished her test about the same time. Zzorb reappeared and took the two tablets. “Thank you.” He disappeared.

  Now he could ask: “What was your answer to the last question?”

  “It’s your test; you can handle it however you please.” She laughed ruefully “Would you believe, I actually got half credit for that one. My answer was obviously correct, but not what the key said. I had not expressed my personal sentiment. So I made half a point out of a hundred, and finished next
to last. You finished last, of course.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “I just said it stinks.”

  “So we have finished in the dump, as might have been expected. Whoever sent us here has had his or her mean little laugh. But for what it’s worth, Dell, I’m glad to be in your company, in this respect and others.”

  “Thank you,” he said forlornly.

  “Let’s get out of here and go our separate ways.”

  “Do we have to?”

  “We do have to get out of here. I suppose we don’t have to separate. Are you hinting that you like my company?”

  “Yes. Maybe I just don’t want to go back to my village with my tail between my legs, having proved what they always knew about me. That I’m a failure.”

  “I appreciate your point. Indeed, I feel much the same. You’re too young to be considered a failure yet, but I really am a failure. Very well, we can keep company until you find a nice girl or I find a worthwhile project I can lose myself in.”

  They turned to walk back along the path. And paused.

  There was no path. Just scattered grass and brush. “But we just came down it,” Dell protested weakly.

  “I’ve heard of these. It’s a one-way path that vanishes behind you as you use it. Probably to stop us from changing our minds about the Challenges.” She turned around. “See, it does continue forward to the Castle.”

  So it did. “I guess we have to depart that way. Maybe failures have to officially check out, or something.”

  They walked on to the moat. There was nowhere to go but across the drawbridge. The moat monster eyed them but didn’t protest. They crossed.

  They found themselves at the main entrance. The big wooden door was closed. Dell shrugged and knocked on it.

  Chapter 3

  Project

  The door opened. There stood a phenomenally beautiful woman.

  “Cool Hand Lute!” they exclaimed almost together, amazed.

  “My nom de plume for the occasion,” she agreed. “I am Dara Demoness, Designated Wife.”

  “What?” Dell asked, feeling stupid even as he spoke.