Ghost Writer in the Sky Page 7

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t understand either,” Ted said. “Women go all mushy about shoes, regardless whether they need them.” They sat down on the path and waited.

  “These should do nicely,” Tara said, plucking a pair. She went to a convenient rock, sat down, and lifted one foot, then the other, so she could change shoes. In the process she showed some very nice thigh. “What do you think, Tartan?”

  “They’re magnificent!”

  Ted laughed. “You’re not even talking about the shoes!”

  “Don’t tell.”

  “I’m so glad you approve,” Tara said. She stood and walked in a small circle, testing the shoes. “Yes, they’re fine.”

  “They certainly are,” Tartan agreed.

  They walked on. “Monica knows, of course,” Ted said. “But she’s a decent sort, so she didn’t blab to Tara.”

  “Or maybe she just likes showing off.”

  “That too. Your eyes were bugging. She enjoys doing that to passing males. But she made sure not to show too much; that would have given it away.”

  “Too much?”

  “We’ll get to that in due course.”

  Tara looked into the sky. “What a pretty cloud!”

  “Oh for bleep’s sake,” Ted muttered. “Rhapsodizing over a cloud?”

  “Girls are like that,” Tartan said internally, appreciating his turn to be instructive. Then, aloud: “Sure is.”

  Tara smiled. “In fact Xanth is a pretty place. I like it here.” Then, after a pause: “Oh!”

  “What?” Tartan asked, perplexed.

  “Monica just told me. That’s not just any cloud. That’s Fracto.”

  “Fracto?”

  “The king of clouds. Monica says that he has a bad reputation in some quarters, you know, raining on parades, but I still think he’s a fine figure.”

  “Monica put her up to that,” Ted said. “Fracto doesn’t like us much, because we’ve played tricks on him, but maybe you and Tara can get along with him better.”

  Indeed, the cloud was puffing up splendidly. Now the points of a vapor crown showed on top.

  “The cloud can hear us?” Tartan asked, surprised.

  “Everything can hear you, when you speak aloud. Most things don’t care, but some do. Never insult a volcano.”

  “A volcano?”

  “When someone insulted Mount Pinatuba, he went ooom-pa! and blew out so much ash that it cooled all Xanth by one degree. Others can bury you in hot lava. Things have feelings; you don’t want to get on the wrong side of them.”

  “You’re right,” Tartan said aloud. “That’s one impressive cloud.”

  “Haa!” It was a screech from another section of the sky. It came from a gross ugly bird flying toward them.

  “Oh, bleep,” Ted swore. “That’s a harpy. They’re dirty birds with fowl mouths.”

  “I gather the enchanted path doesn’t protect us from bad language.”

  “Or from dropped bombs. Better take cover.”

  But the harpy was already flying overhead. “What do we have here?” she screeched. “Trash folk from Mundania?”

  The cloud gave a warning rumble.

  “Oh, blow away, foggy bottom,” the harpy screeched at Fracto. “This is not your business.”

  “We’re not looking for any trouble,” Tara called.

  “Well tough eggs, poop-face!” the harpy screeched. “Trouble’s looking for you.”

  “I see what you mean,” Tartan said. “But if she can’t actually attack us on the path, words will never hurt us.”

  “Oh, do you ever need to learn,” Ted said. “Words can hurt you. Especially magic ones. But probably she’ll egg us.”

  “Egg us?”

  “Their eggs are explosive. Run!”

  Tartan and Tara started running along the path, but the harpy followed them. “Bombs away!” she screeched. “One, two, thr—”

  At that point there was a flash of lightning. It struck the harpy on the tail, vaporizing several feathers, and knocked the dirty bird out of the sky.

  Ted laughed. “I did mention getting along with clouds?”

  “You did,” Tartan agreed, amazed.

  “Thank you, King Fracto,” Tara called. “That was so sweet of you.” She blew the cloud a kiss. It sailed up to the vapory edge and struck with a splat that left an imprint of a pair of lips. The cloud actually blushed and floated away.

  “Point made,” Tartan said. “Things have feelings.”

  They walked on without further adventure. Around noon they came to a rest stop where there were pie plants, milk weeds, and a lone beer-barrel tree. Tartan and Tara might have been baffled by the punnish offerings, but their hosts guided them without mishap.

  At one end there was a long low table shaped like a garden tool where several black birds perched, dipping their beaks in mugs of liquid. “Crow bar,” Ted explained.

  Tartan didn’t even groan.

  Refreshed, they moved on. The path wound through forest and field, around hills, and across streams. “Oh, this is so adorable,” Tara said, gazing across a quiet pond. “This is such a nice land.”

  “Monica will set her straight,” Ted said.

  Sure enough, Tara paused. “Tar, let’s step off the enchanted path for a moment.”

  Tartan didn’t argue. He was curious too.

  They stepped off. Tartan felt something at his feet. The grass was curling around his shoes. “Better move on before it starts to feed,” Ted warned. Tartan hastily stepped away from the grass. So did Tara, similarly warned.

  There was a sound to the side. A contraption formed of shining saw blades was coming toward them. It did not look friendly

  “Sawhorse,” Ted said. “Stay clear of it if you don’t want to be sawed.”

  They got out of the creature’s way. In the process, Tartan stepped in the edge of the pond. “Hey, watch where you’re treading!” an angry voice cried.

  Startled, he looked—and saw a lady’s wet head lifting out of the pool. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were swimming here.”

  “What kind of a girl do you think I am?” she demanded.

  “I—I didn’t see you. I’m, uh, sure you’re a nice girl.”

  “No I’m not.”

  He was confused. “Not?”

  “You don’t know a mermaid when you see one?”

  “Mermaid?” he asked blankly.

  She lifted more of herself out of the water. She was splendidly nude to the waist. “Well?”

  “Uh, no. You look just like a—a lovely woman.”

  “And what do you think this is?” she demanded, leaning back and lifting her flukes.

  “Uh—”

  “You’re looking for a piece of tail?”

  “No! I mean I, I just never saw a—a mermaid before.”

  “So now you know I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Not that kind,” he agreed numbly. How had he gotten into this?

  “But I could become that kind.” Her flukes quivered and separated, and her tail became a shapely set of legs.

  “Wow.” That was the extent of his ability to talk at the moment.

  “Then again, you look to be a fair hunk of a man. Come in and show me what you’re made of.” Her legs flexed suggestively, their juncture just under the surface of the water. “Have a nice ellipsis with me, handsome.”

  “Ellipsis?”

  She eyed him obliquely. “You’ve never had an ellipsis?”

  “What is she talking about?” Tartan asked Ted.

  “In Mundania you call it sex. We’re not that crude in Xanth.”

  “Oh, you mean when they blank it out, but you know it’s happening?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I gather from your reaction that you haven’
t,” the mermaid said. She inhaled. “Then let me be your first.”

  “Don’t do it,” Ted warned. “She’ll give you a hot time, all right. Then she’ll drown you and eat you. She’s a predator. That’s how they catch their prey.”

  “Uh, thank you,” Tartan said. “But I fear you’re more woman than I can handle.” He backed off.

  “Oh no you don’t!” The mermaid flexed and leaped forward, tackling him around the waist. Tartan fell backwards into the brush, but she was tugging him back toward the pond.

  “What do I do now?” he asked Ted. He was concerned but not frightened, because he knew his host would not let his body be eaten. The mermaid’s grip was like steel; she was stronger than she looked. In a moment she might take the first bite of him, and her face was alarmingly close to his midriff. “I—despite everything, I don’t want to hurt her. She’s too pretty to hurt.”

  Ted mentally rolled his eyes. But he did answer. “Tickle her.”

  Oho! Tartan reached down with his hands, stroking her bare back. When he reached her curvy bottom he curled his fingers and delicately tickled it.

  The mermaid shrieked. “Eeeee! Nooooo!” she cried, putting five E’s and five O’s into it. Here in Xanth such things were quantifiable.

  This was almost fun. “Sit up and I’ll tickle your front too,” he said wickedly.

  She lifted her front defiantly. “You wouldn’t dare, you—EEEEEE!!”

  “Good one!” Tara said from the side, applauding. “Capital E’s.”

  “You utter brute!” the mermaid cried, heaving her body away and back into the pond with a splash. “You don’t fight fair.”

  “I’m mundane,” Tartan said. “We don’t know any better.”

  “Disgusting! My poor innocent flesh being mauled by an ignorant barbarian.” The mermaid flipped over and dived below the surface, providing him one last provocative flash of her legs as she disappeared.

  “Let’s go back to the path,” Tartan said. His feelings were badly mixed.

  “But don’t you want to wrestle with the nice mermaid anymore?” Tara asked, a smirk hovering suggestively close to her face.

  “Not at the moment.”

  They returned to the path. The hosts had made their point: Xanth was not nearly as safe or friendly as it looked. Mischief could come in a pretty package.

  In due course they came to an evening campsite. “We’ll stay here the night,” Ted said. “You two can go home, and rejoin us in the morning. You must have things to discuss with each other, privately.”

  “Yes,” Tartan agreed. “You’ve been more than kind, putting up with us duffers for the day.”

  Tara paused, then approached Tartan. Something was odd about her, in an attractive way. “I am Monica,” she said. “Tara gave me leave. I know you think you have been a burden, but that’s not the case. You have given us an interesting day, and there surely will be more coming. We volunteered for this mission in the hope that we would find the experience worthwhile, and you are not disappointing us.” Then she kissed him.

  “Uh—” Tartan said, at a loss for words at the moment. Her kiss had impact.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Carry on.” She stepped away, and he could tell by her change in expression that Tara was back in charge.

  “Then we’ll see you both tomorrow,” Tara said, and took Tartan’s hand.

  It was that easy. Tartan and Tara focused on their bodies back in Mundania, and in one to one and a half moments were there, lying on the bed, still holding hands.

  He realized that the natural functions he had exercised in Xanth were those of his host’s body. His own body here felt about to burst, because they had not thought to take a break during the day.

  “Oh, my!” Tara said. She rolled off the bed and ran to the bathroom, opening her clothing as she went.

  He would have to wait a little longer.

  Soon she was back, not bothering to put her skirt back on. “Your turn.”

  “Thanks!” He lunged for the bathroom and did his business.

  “We’ll have to eat, and all,” Tara said. “But first I have to say I’m sorry I teased you about wrestling with the mermaid. That wasn’t nice of me.”

  “No it wasn’t,” he agreed, standing by the bed. “But thanks for the apology.”

  “And I put Monica up to kissing you.”

  He was astonished. “You did? Why?”

  She ignored the question. “Suppose I make it up to you? Tickle me.”

  “I’m tempted to.” Then he realized that she was naked on the bed, having completed her dishabille while he was in the bathroom. “But—”

  “Tickle me bare. It’s only fair.”

  Ordinarily he wouldn’t have done it, but it had been quite a day and his feelings were unsettled. “Okay.”

  “Only I get to tickle you back. You have to be bare too.”

  “Tara—”

  “Come on, be a sport.”

  So he stripped, but was hesitant to join her on the bed. He really wasn’t sure of her intentions, and didn’t want to go wrong.

  She reached out and grabbed him about the waist, much as the mermaid had, pulling him onto the bed with her. She really did want to do it! He tickled her ribs. “Eeeeee!” she screamed, imitating the mermaid as she thrashed about.

  She tickled his bottom. “Oooooo!” he groaned, laughing.

  Then they were wrestling. Their faces came together, and they kissed each other savagely. What were they heading for?

  “Tara,” he gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “Not at all. I’m severely conflicted. Time for the ellipsis.” Evidently Monica had explained about that to her, as Ted had to Tartan.

  “Then maybe we should wait, at least until we’re in our right minds.”

  She kissed him again, and this time there was no mistaking her passion. It swept everything else away.

  . . .

  It was some ellipsis.

  They found themselves holding hands again on the bed, as the ellipsis faded. “Tara, this—what were you thinking of?”

  “Tartan, I must confess it. When you came up against that mermaid, and she showed you her—her wares, and then you were wrestling with her—I was, I was jealous. There, I’ve said it.”

  “Tara, you had no need to be. It isn’t as if we have any commitment to each other, beyond exploring this magic land of Xanth. We weren’t even in our own bodies. And of course she was a vicious predator.”

  “I know. Don’t I know! But there it was. She had a bosom to die for, and when she made legs and flashed you with her whatever, all I could think of was that I could never do anything like that. Or if I did, you’d just laugh, because I don’t have anything close to the equipment she does. Or that DeMonica has. So I just needed to prove that, well, if I caught you off guard, maybe—”

  “Oh, Tara! You didn’t need to trick me. I already liked you. If I’d been sure you felt the same—”

  “Maybe not. Monica picked up on my thoughts, of course. She’s more experienced than I am, in this venue. She told me that I should go ahead and declare myself, and she would help pave the way by warming you up. So she kissed you.”

  “That warmed me up,” he agreed. “She’s one provocative package, when she wants to be.”

  “Yes. She said none of that would matter if I got you alone and made my play.”

  “It didn’t,” he agreed.

  “So I provoked a tickling contest, and I apologize for taking it further than maybe you wanted.”

  “Oh, Tara,” he repeated. “I found you attractive all along. I wanted to—to do it with you. I just didn’t want to presume, or take advantage. Or make you mad at me, maybe.”

  “Now he tells me,” she said, laughing.

  He kissed her. She kissed him back eagerly.

  “Whatever it is
,” he said. “It will do.”

  “It will do,” she agreed.

  Then they set about supper and the evening. By mutual agreement they slept on the bed that night, and embraced.

  “I guess we’re committed now,” Tartan said. “Tara, I can’t honestly say this soon that I love you, for certain; it’s too new and confusing. But I certainly like being with you, and in time—”

  She put her finger on his lips. “It will do,” she repeated.

  Duly prepared in the morning, they took hands again and focused on their hosts in Xanth.

  Tartan found himself looking at Demon Ted from outside. There was something weird about his body. Where was he?

  “Well now,” DeMonica said with an internal smile. “Hello Tartan! You decided to be female today?”

  He was in her body! “Oops, no!” He sailed out of her.

  There was Tara, looking like herself, emerging from Ted. “We got mixed up,” she said, blushing.

  “I guess we weren’t perfectly tracked.” He passed her and entered Ted’s body, while she entered Monica’s.

  “That was odd,” Ted said. “I never felt a woman before—I mean, from the inside.”

  “Neither have I,” Tartan said. “I think Monica was amused.”

  “It occurs to me that there could be an occasion where a woman’s perspective would be useful in a man’s body,” Ted said. “Or vice versa. We should keep it in mind.”

  “I suppose so. It might stop a predatory mermaid.”

  “About that: they aren’t all that way. Most mermaids are nice. So are most merwomen.”

  “Merwomen?”

  “The seagoing species. They are better endowed, because the sea can be rougher and colder. But they may be less conversant with landly ways.”

  “Your background thought suggests there’s a story there.”

  “There is. Mela Merwoman lost her merman husband and set out to find another. There were no good prospects locally, so she made legs and walked on land. Since land girls normally are clothed, she went to a pantree and selected suitable panties, and wore them. But she reckoned without panty magic.”

  “Panty magic?”

  “Any male who sees a girl’s occupied panties freaks out. Mela was a robustly well-formed creature, and she freaked out legions of males without realizing. Wish I’d been there, but that wasn’t feasible.”