Piers Anthony - Castle Roogna

"I do not experience emotion. But in your body I did. I liked the little Princess.

"She is likable," Dor agreed. "Uh, look-I promised to have the access hoop shrunk back to ring size, but-"

Forgiven. Farewell, Magician.

"Farewell, Coral." The rug took off and zoomed back through the cavernly passages. When it emerged into the sky it hesitated, until Dor remembered that he had not told it where to go next. "Good Magician Humfrey's castle."

Dor was reminded again that Humfrey's castle stood where the Zombie Master's castle had once been. The two were of different designs; probably the site had been razed more than once, and rebuilt.

Humfrey was as usual poring over a massive tome, paying no attention to what went on around him-supposedly. "What, you again?" he demanded irritably.

"Listen, gnome-" Grundy began.

The Good Magician smiled-a rare thing for him. "Why listen, when I can read? Observe." And he gestured them to look at the book, over his shoulder.

"But I'm not a killer!" Dor protested vehemently. I'm only a twelve-year-old-" He caught himself, but didn't know how to correct his slip.

"A twelve-year veteran of warfare!" she exclaimed. "Surely you have killed before!"

It was grossly misplaced, but her sympathy gratified him strongly. His tired body reacted; his left arm reached out to enclose her hips in its embrace, as she stood beside him. He squeezed her against his side. Oh, her posterior was resilient!

"Why, Dor!" she said, surprised and pleased. "You like me!"

Dor forced himself to drop his arm. What business did he have, touching her? Especially in the vicinity of her cushiony posteriori "More than I can say."

"I like you too, Dor." She sat down in his lap, her derriere twice as soft and bouncy as before. Again his body reacted, enfolding her in an arm. Dor had never before experienced such sensation. Suddenly he was aware that his body knew what to do, if only he let it. That she was willing. That it could be an experience like none he had imagined in his young life. He was twelve; his body was older. It could do it.

"Oh, Dor," she murmured, bending her head to kiss him on the mouth. Her lips were so sweet he-

The flea chomped him hard on the left ear. Dor bashed at it-and boxed his ear. The pain was brief but intense.

He stood up, dumping Millie roughly to her feet. "I have to get some rest," he said.

She made no further sound, but only stood there, eyes downcast He knew he had hurt her terribly. She had committed the cardinal maidenly sin of being forward, and been rebuked. But what could he do? He did not exist in her world. He would soon depart, leaving her alone for eight hundred years, and when they rejoined he would be twelve years old again. He had no right!

But oh, what might have been, were he more of a man.

Dor found himself blushing. "That's-you mean that book records everything, even my private feelings?" Yet obviously it did.

"We were not about to let a future King of Xanth go unmonitored," Humfrey remarked. "Especially when our own history was involved. Not that we could do anything about it, once the tapestry spell was cast. Still, as vicarious experience-"

"Was it valid?" Dor asked. "I mean, did I really change history?"

"That is a question that may never be answered to absolute satisfaction. I would say you did, and you did not."

"A typically gnomish answer," Grundy said.

"One must consider the framework of Xanth history," the Good Magician continued. "A series of Waves of Mundane conquest, with the population decimated again and again. If every person lived and reproduced without a break, any interruption in that process would eliminate many of today's residents. All the descendants of that person. But if a subsequent Wave wiped them out anyway-" He shrugged. "There could be considerable change, all nullified a generation or two later. In which case there would be no paradox relating to our own time. I would say that the original Castle Roogna engagement was real, and that you changed that reality. You rewrote the script. But you changed only the details of that particular episode, not the overall course of history. Does it matter?"

"I guess not," Dor said.

"About that page I was reading," Humfrey said. "It seems you have been concerned about manhood. Did it occur to you that you might be more of a man in the declining of the maid's offer than in the acceptance of it?"

"No," Dor admitted.

"There is somewhat more to manhood than sex."

As if on cue, the gorgon entered the room, in a splendidly sexy dress but still without a face. "That's male propaganda," she said from the vacuum. "There is certainly more to womanhood than sex, but a man is a simpler organism."

"Oooo, what you said!" Grundy exclaimed, rubbing his tiny forefingers together in a condemning gesture.

"I said organism," she said. "You authenticate my case."

"Get out of here, both of you," Humfrey snapped. "The Magician and I are trying to hold a meaningful dialogue."

"Thought you'd never ask," Grundy said. He hopped to the gorgon's shoulder, peering into the nothingness framed by her snake-ringlets. A snakelet hissed at him, "Same to you, slinky," he snapped at it, and the snake retreated. He peered down into the awesome crevice of her bodice. "Come on, honey; let's go down to the kitchen for a snack."

When they were alone, Humfrey flipped a few pages of the history tome idly. "I was surprised to learn that the Zombie Master's castle was on this very site," he remarked. "Were he alive today, I would gladly share this castle with him. He was a remarkably fine Magician, and a fine man, too."

"Yes," Dor agreed. "He was the real key to King Roogna's success. He deserved so much better than the tragedy he suffered." He felt another surge of remorse.

Humfrey sighed, "What has been, has been."

"Uh, have you given the gorgon your Answer yet?"

"Not yet. Her year is not yet complete."

"You are the most mercenary creature I know!" Dor said admiringly. "Every time I think I've seen the ultimate, you come up with a worse wrinkle. Are you going to marry her?"

"What do you think?"

Dor visualized the gorgon's body with historical perspective. "She's a knockout. If she wants you, you're sunk. She doesn't need a face to turn a man to stone. In a manner of speaking."

The Good Magician nodded. "You have learned a new manner of speaking! The key concept is 'she wants.' Do you really think she does?"

"Why else did she come here?" Dor demanded, perplexed.

"Her original motive was based largely on ignorance. How do you think she might feel once she knows me well?"

"Uh-" Dor searched for something diplomatic to say. The Good Magician had his points, but was no easy man to approach, or to get along with.

"Therefore the kindest thing to do is to give her sufficient opportunity to know me-well enough," the Magician concluded.

"The year!" Dor exclaimed. "That wait for her Answer! Not for you-for her! So she can change her mind, if-"

"Precisely." Humfrey looked sad. "It has been a most enticing dream, however, even for an old gnome."

Dor nodded, realizing that the Good Magician had not been proof against the attractions of the gorgon any more than the lonely Zombie Master had been proof against Millie. The two Magicians were similar in their fashion-and a similar tragedy loomed.

"Now we must conclude your case," Humfrey said briskly, refusing to dwell further on the inevitable. "You owe me no further service, of course; the history book has provided it all, and I consider the investment well worthwhile. I have now fathomed many long-standing riddles, such as the origin of the forget spell on the Gap. So I may send you on your way, your account quit."

"Thank you," Dor said. "I have brought back your magic carpet."