Five Portraits (25 page)

“Yes,” he agreed sadly.

“It is ironic,” Fornax said, appearing for Firenze as well as Astrid. “You wish you could be a family, but can't, because you are trying to save Xanth from eventual destruction. I'd like to win my bet, but can't, because that would mean the loss of all of you. We're all doing the right thing, at personal cost.”

“I guess that's what it means to be adult,” Firenze said.

“It's what it means to have a conscience,” Fornax said. “I'm not used to it any more than you are, Firenze.”

“A conscience,” he agreed thoughtfully. “It makes you do the right thing, even when nobody's watching.”

“Demons are not used to that,” Fornax said.

“Neither are children.”

“So it seems we are learning together.”

“There's the Troll stop,” Astrid said, relieved to let the subject rest.

“I'll fade,” Fornax said, fading.

Sure enough, there was a small troll-house, with a troll in it, and a sign: STOP: PAY TROLL.

They stopped. Astrid put on her most insincere smile. “I need to arrange for passage for two on a vehicle to the Panhandle. I don't have coins.”

The troll looked at her. “There may be an alternate way.”

“No,” Astrid said firmly. “I forgot to mention that I am a basilisk in human form; my look and touch can be lethal. But the boy has a talent that may amuse other passengers.”

“You don't look like a basilisk.” His eyes were on her front.

Astrid leaned close, giving him a better view. “Sniff my perfume.”

The troll did. Little planets circled his head briefly before dissipating into acrid smoke. “That is the smell of death,” he agreed.

“I promise to keep to myself and not make any mischief. We just want to get from here to there.”

“Let's see the talent,” the troll said as his head cleared.

Firenze made a nice little fireworks display. The troll considered. “I'm not sure that's enough.”

“Check your schedule,” Fornax said in Astrid's voice.

He checked. “As it happens, we do have a bus transporting restive children to that locale,” the troll said, surprised. “Such a display might distract them long enough for their keeper to get them settled.”

“Done,” Astrid said.

“Here are your boarding passes.” The troll passed out two tickets.

They entered the compound and stood beside the trollway, waiting for the bus. “Restive children?” Astrid asked Fornax.

“Convenient coincidences happen,” the Demoness said innocently. Even Firenze had to smile.

The bus arrived. They showed their tickets and took their seats. The bus was larger inside than out, with a playroom in back where excited young children romped, four and five years old. But they soon got bored, and started running between the seats and climbing over them, annoying the other passengers.

Fornax nudged Firenze. “Your turn.”

Firenze got up and walked to the playroom section. “Do you like fireworks?” he asked, getting their immediate attention. In a scant moment they were standing in a circle around him.

He started slow, with a few small rockets arcing up from his head. “Ooo!” the children exclaimed. Then larger rockets appeared, exploding into colorful displays. “Oooo!” they said. Finally he made a phenomenal multirocket barrage. “Ooooo!” they cried.

Then they got tired, and their handler, a plump female troll, got them to lie down and sleep. “Thank you,” she said gruffly to Firenze.

“Welcome,” he said politely, and rejoined Astrid and invisible Fornax. Then, to them: “That was fun.”

“You did well,” Astrid said, squeezing his hand.

“I never thought I'd be good with children. Did you know you would be, Aunt Astrid?”

“I did learn human ways from secretly interacting with a child, so maybe that was a hint. But it was my friendship with Fornax, and the advice of Wenda Woodwife, that got us into children. So really I didn't know.”

“Did you know, Aunt Fornax?” he asked.

“I did not. But you are very special children.”

“You made us special, by enhancing our—” He broke off, realizing that this should not be spoken aloud.

“Your self-respect,” Astrid said.

“Yes.”

In due course the children finished their nap and got active again. The matron passed out sandwiches, and that kept them occupied for a while. But they had to use the bathroom, and there was none on the bus.

“We are coming to a rest stop,” the driver announced. “There will be a half hour break. Be sure to be back aboard within that time.”

“Just in time,” the matron said, relieved.

The bus pulled into the stop and the children piled out, followed by the matron. Astrid and Firenze got out too. It was a closed compound with assorted facilities, including pie trees and milkweed plants.

“I must focus on other business; Kandy calls with Demon interaction,” Fornax murmured. “But I will return when you resume traveling.” She faded out.

“I do like her,” Firenze said. “She really helped all of us.” He smiled. “By helping you fetch us back from the future, for one thing.”

“We started our friendship as an experimental thing,” Astrid said. “But I am glad for it.”

They used the facilities, and returned to the bus on time. “Different drivers,” Firenze remarked.

“They must have shifts,” Astrid said. “The former driver will probably drive another bus back the way he came. It's his territory.”

“The other passengers aren't returning,”

“This must be their stop.”

The matron returned with the children and got them settled. The bus started up and pulled back onto the trollway. It was all very routine.

Fornax faded in. “Business accomplished. Now I can relax.” Then she looked around. “There is something wrong.”

“It's all been routine,” Astrid said. “We have a new driver, is all.”

“There's the wrongness,” the Demoness said. “That's not the right one.”

“He seems to know his business.”

“Damn!” Fornax could swear, not being part of the local Adult Conspiracy. “They did it while I was distracted. Now I can't intervene without mischief.”

“May I inquire, Aunt Fornax?” Firenze asked politely.

“You may, and I will answer. There is a smell of Demon interference here, as there was when the Playground got folded up with you inside. Someone does not want you to complete your adoption, and without it Xanth will not be saved. Not Nemesis, I think; I am tracking him. But someone with a bet against Xanth. I can't intervene without prejudicing the case, which may be their intention. The two of you will have to foil it, and that will be difficult.”

“I don't think we can stop a Demon,” Firenze said.

“Not directly. But there are constraints. The Demon set up the ploy, but may not openly support it. If it is foiled by the actions of mortals on their own, that will do. That is what you will have to do. I must not tell you more.” She faded out.

“I am competent to handle most threats,” Astrid said. “But she seemed worried.”

“I fear we will just have to see what happens,” Firenze said. “Then figure out how to handle it.”

“I agree,” Astrid said grimly.

The children became restive. Firenze went again to entertain them with his fireworks display. While they were distracted, Astrid went to talk with the matron. “We fear there is trouble ahead,” she said. “We will try to stop it, but may not be able.”

“Why should I believe a basilisk?” the matron demanded.

Astrid sighed inwardly and returned to her seat. The woman's attitude was reasonable, actually. Why trust any stranger, let alone a deadly animal?

Firenze finished his show, and the matron set about putting the children down for another rest.

There was a fork in the trollway. The driver took the left one.

“That's not the right way,” Firenze said. “My Communal direction knows the route.”

“Then this must be the mischief,” Astrid said. “I'll tell the matron.”

She went back. “Do you know the correct route?”

“I do.”

“Are we still on it?”

The matron looked. “No,” she said, surprised.

“Could the new driver have gotten lost?”

“New driver? We're not supposed to have a new one.”

“Then I fear we're in trouble.”

The matron marched up to the front. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What happened to our regular driver? Why are you deviating from the proper route?”

“Shut up and sit down, wench,” the driver snapped.

“I will not! I am responsible for the children, and their safety. Turn the bus around and return to the correct route.”

The driver pulled to the side and stopped the bus. He got up and walked back to where the children were sleeping. He reached down and picked up a little girl. Suddenly there was a huge knife in his free hand. He held it to the child's throat. “You were saying?” he asked the matron menacingly.

Speechless with horror, she fell back. Astrid removed her glasses and advanced on him.

“Stop where you are, basilisk,” the troll snapped.

Obviously he knew her nature. She stopped.

“Matron!” he snapped. “Fetch a sleeping mask. Put it on her.”

The matron found the kind of mask used to keep light out so that a person could sleep on a bus. She came to Astrid. “I'm sorry I misjudged you,” she murmured. “But I can't risk the life of the child.”

“I understand,” Astrid said. “Do what you have to do.”

The matron put the mask on her. Now Astrid's primary weapon had been nullified.

“Tie her hands behind her back,” the troll ordered.

The matron found a cord and loosely tied Astrid's hands.

“Tighter.”

Well, she had tried. She tightened it, reluctantly.

“Now go sit with the children.”

Astrid heard the matron go.

The troll approached Astrid. When he reached her, he cast aside the child and put the flat of the knife to her throat. “Any resistance from you, basilisk, and I slit your throat. Do you understand?”

Astrid nodded. She understood far better than she liked. She knew exactly what was coming next—and she did not dare try to stop it. The troll was obviously an experienced molester. One of the bad ones, as Truculent had been.

Unless she could shame him. “Are you going to do it in front of the children?”

“Yeah. It'll do them good to see it.”

“Such a direct violation of the Adult Conspiracy will utterly freak them out.”

“Exactly.” He was evidently shameless.

The troll hooked his fingers in her shirt and ripped it open. “Nice,” he said. Then he caught her skirt and hauled it down. “Nice,” he repeated.

Evidently the sight of her panties did not freak him out. Too bad; she had counted on that. Some males were so jaded that they could resist the freak. Those were generally the worst kind.

“What are you going to do with the children?” she asked, playing for time. The longer he stayed close to her, the more likely her ambiance was to get to him.

“Take them to our little group and dump them in the cooking pot for dinner. What else? Freaked out tidbits are the tastiest.”

The matron made an exclamation of utter dismay. She had tied Astrid to avoid harm to one child; now all of them were threatened.

Did the troll realize that Astrid could revert to her natural form, escaping her mask and bonds? She would have to act rapidly to avoid that big knife.

He put the edge of the knife to her throat so that it pricked the skin. “Any trouble at all, and you're dead, no matter what your form, bask,” he said. “So you'd better stick to this one, at least until I'm through.”

He realized. She was out of options. She would have to submit to the rape and await her opportunity. But the necessity galled her mightily. She wished she could rip off the mask and fry him with her Stare.

Suddenly the bus's engine roared into life. “Hey!” the troll shouted.

There was the sound of grinding gears. Then the bus lurched forward. The children screamed as they were shoved to the back by the motion.

“Who the bleep is driving?” the troll demanded as he was jolted away from Astrid.

The bus careened to the side, the wheels running off the edge of the pavement and spinning on dirt. Then it swung back onto the highway. Astrid and the troll wore thrown back and forth, and the children screamed again as the bus veered madly about.

“Get out of there, brat!” the troll shouted.

Brat? Then Astrid put it together. Firenze! Somehow while the troll was occupied with Astrid he had sneaked up to the driver's seat and started working the controls. But how had he figured out how to drive the bus? Astrid herself didn't know how to do that.

“I'll pulverize you!” the troll said, tromping forward.

Astrid struggled with her bonds, but couldn't free her hands or get the mask off; both were on too securely.

Then hands were on her. “Hold still, bask,” the matron's voice said. “I'll free you, then you stop him, if there's time during this distraction.”

Astrid held still. But she could tell by the speed of the tromping that there was not going to be enough time.

The bus accelerated, swinging madly across the highway one way and the other, the tires squealing their magic protest. But the tromping continued. The troll was holding on to the seats as he worked his way forward.

Then the bus abruptly braked, and everything slid forward in the magic of inertia. The matron held on to Astrid, frantically untying her hands. But it was too late. “Gotcha!” the troll exclaimed triumphantly.

There was a hissing noise. Then the troll screamed in pain. “Oww! I'm blinded by fire!”

Astrid had to smile. Firenze had invoked his fireworks. In the troll's face.