Vinia was startled. What did this famous girl care about her? They had met only briefly two years before.

  Then Squid broke the connection. She glanced around. “Bye.” She dissolved into vapor and faded out.

  There was a silence stretching a good moment and a half.

  Then Hilda spoke. “Why did she break it off so suddenly?”

  “Something occurred to her,” Ion said.

  “Yes. But what?”

  “Aren’t you a maiden princess?” Benny asked nervously.

  Vinia saw his point. What was to stop the dragon from trying to collect Hilda herself and crystallize her?

  “Ion can give me some antidragon elixir,” Hilda said. “That should protect me.”

  She had confidence. Was it justified? Vinia loved Ion, but she also loved Hilda in a sisterly way and didn’t want her to get hurt either.

  “Still, this may be nervous business,” Benny said.

  “Squid knows something we don’t,” Ion said.

  It was time to shift the subject slightly. “First things first,” Vinia said. “Getting your folks’ permission.”

  “That’s Mom,” Ion said. “Dad’s away on business today.”

  “Maybe think about it for a day or two?” Benny asked with slight hope. He had suggested the Quest, but Vinia understood his hesitation now that it was turning real. The girl he loved was going to put herself at serious risk. Vinia was not completely easy about it herself, as her ongoing thoughts indicated. Sometimes she wished she could turn off her mind for a while so she could relax.

  “Why waste the time?” Hilda asked rhetorically. She headed for the door.

  So much for that. They followed her into the hall. Vinia put one arm around Ion and engaged her power, making his feet walk in step with her. It was routine, whenever he walked, but she still loved doing it, and she knew he loved doing it too. It was a pretext for continuing closeness they both valued.

  Then Ion looked at her, realization dawning. “You’re the protagonist!”

  “I’m the what?”

  “The main character of the story. The viewpoint person. The one who sees and hears everything, without necessarily affecting it. Squid was the protagonist two years ago: she knows how it is. She recognized you. She has a notion what you’re in for.”

  “What am I in for?” Vinia asked, frightened.

  “We don’t know. But there are rules. The protagonist always survives to the end of the story. And there always is a story, a big one.”

  “Like maybe rescuing six crystallized princesses?”

  “Maybe. It’s awesome.”

  Hilda looked back. “Hey, slowpokes! You trying to sneak in a kiss while we’re not looking?”

  “Don’t tell her!” Vinia said desperately. “Please. I need time to sort this out.”

  Ion nodded. “You caught us,” he called back to his sister. He put his face to Vinia’s face, and they kissed. He was covering for her. She loved that about him, among other things: his loyalty to her.

  They hurried to catch up.

  A palace servitor bowed, his way of inquiring what they wanted.

  “Please inform Queen Ida that we are on the way for an audience,” Hilda said. No one else could just barge in on the queen, but they were her children.

  He faded out.

  When they arrived at the audience chamber, Queen Ida was there. Vinia saw her little moon circling her head, just outside her petite gold crown. That would have been an oddity anywhere but here. “Yes, dear; what is your concern?”

  Now Hilda deferred to her brother, glancing at him. So Vinia and Ion stepped up to face the queen. “We want to go rescue the six other princesses who were crystallized with you, way back when.”

  The queen glanced at them, her gaze touching each in turn, and pausing fractionally at Vinia. “Oh, my,” Ida murmured.

  She knew!

  Ion saw that pause, so like Squid’s pause, and understood. Vinia knew that Ida herself, a Sorceress in her own right, might have been a protagonist at some time, so was alert for the signals. Vinia averted her gaze.

  “I suppose it does get dull for you children, here in the palace,” Ida said. “But you should at least travel with an adult.”

  “Benny’s adult,” Hilda said promptly.

  The queen of course knew all about Benny. Would she accept him in that capacity?

  “Perhaps that will do,” Ida said.

  Now Hilda was suspicious; she knew her mother well. “What, no argument?”

  Ida smiled. “Your friend Squid was by, with her adult boyfriend. They seemed to feel that you would be safe enough.”

  Oh. Because the protagonist would be along, making the safety of the party more likely. Chaos might even have checked an alternate track, a future one, to get an indication.

  “Squid said she’d put in a word,” Ion said.

  “She did. And Chaos left some little bombs for you, just in case. I will give them to you now.”

  “Bombs?” Hilda asked.

  “These are small, invisible, and largely immaterial,” Ida said. “Until invoked. Then they generate chaos nearby, for everyone but the detonator. Things go wrong. Confusion abounds. If a dragon were about to bite you, this might cause it to accidentally bite a stink horn instead.”

  They all laughed. Stink horns were Xanth’s worst-smelling plants, absolute disasters to step on, especially indoors or close by. A squashed stink horn made a foul-smelling noise and a hideously filthy stench. That could indeed help protect them and was a nice little gift from the Demon.

  Ida held out her hand, as if holding something, though it seemed empty except for a faint glimmer. “They will not be evident on you. They are invoked only by a thought. Do not use them carelessly.”

  Ion reached out and took the glimmer. It disappeared. Then Vinia did the same. There was a tiny tingle, then it was gone.

  They stepped back, and Hilda and Benny took their bombs.

  “Now it is time for dinner,” Ida said. It was the middle of the day, but dinner was whenever Ida said it should be. Vinia realized she was hungry.

  They settled down to a private meal with the queen, catered by the palace staff. The drinks were boot rear, of course, the beverage with a kick in it; all children and some adults liked it. There was a fresh salad with Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine Island dressing: a rumor hinted that Mundania had found the last island, but who believed that? Square onion soup. Footsie rolls, which looked like bare feet. Floating baked air potatoes. And pink eye scream for dessert. Dully routine food, but that was palace life.

  That afternoon they made their preparations for the journey. Hilda gathered voluminous threads and giant needles and sewed a full-size magic carpet, like Ion’s small one, but large enough for all four of them. Vinia assisted in any which way she could, bringing more rolls of basic material and more spools of thread as Hilda needed them. The magic was not in the material, or the thread, or the needles, but in the princess’s sewing; the carpet was imbued with the essential magic as she worked. What gradually took shape was the basic carpet, hovering just above the floor, a magic cloth guardrail to prevent accidental stepping off, a canopy, steering bar, reclining deck chairs, and even a private curtained privy consisting of another endless-capacity bag that would hold solid and liquid refuse without apparent weight or odor. They would be able to poop and pee without pausing in their flight.

  Vinia was amazed yet again by the sorcery. Hilda could do so much, yet never bragged about it, any more than Ion did about his magic. They just did it as needed and were otherwise normal children.

  They boarded the carpet and sat in the chairs, Ion at the steering bar. They took off smoothly, flying up and out an open skylight. It was dusk, and the forested skyline was lovely. They hovered just above the trees.

  “We all should practice handling the craft,” Ion said. “Just in case there is a disruption.” He passed the bar to Vinia. It was not attached to anything.

  She was so surprised she almost dropped it. “But, but where do I go?” she asked somewhat plaintively.

  “Just sail around, getting the feel of it.” Ion closed his eyes as if for a nap.

  Vinia took a firm grip and slowly moved the bar. The carpet slowly turned in that direction. She reversed it, and the carpet followed suit. She tilted it slightly back, and the carpet smoothly rose higher. She tilted it the other way, and the carpet descended. She squeezed it, and the carpet accelerated. This was fun!

  Soon she passed the bar on to Benny, and he put the carpet through its motions. Then Hilda, who had sewn it but not flown it before. Now they all knew how to do it.

  There was a rumble of thunder. In two and a half moments an angry-looking storm cloud headed their way.

  Ion took back the wheel and smiled. He steered the carpet straight into the cloud. Lightning jags radiated and thunder crashed all around them, but nothing struck them, not even any spatter of rain. He zoomed it right into the heart of the cloud, and turbulent darkness surrounded them, but there was still no contact.

  Ooo, the storm was mad! But it could do nothing. Soon it departed in a huff.

  “It’s immune to weather,” Hilda said. “I sewed in a spell.”

  They parked the carpet by putting it a continuing circle high above the forest and retired for the night. Ion opened a vial and let out a waft of vapor. “Invisibility elixir,” he said. “No one will bother us.”

  The twins seemed to have thought of everything. But they had traveled before, many times, and knew what they were doing.

  Vinia joined Ion on his bed mat, and Benny joined Hilda.

  This whole excursion was amazing. “This is so thrilling,” Vinia murmured.

  Ion kissed her. “I love being with you. The only thing I still wish for—”

  “We’re too young,” she whispered. She had known what all men wanted, even the boys, having taken an orientation course on planet Animalia, which specialized in catering to lusty tourists.

  “You could make it happen, the same way you make me walk.”

  Her telekinesis. She hadn’t thought of using it in precisely that manner, but it could be done. She could make a man of him, as it were. “Yes. But no.”

  “No one need know.”

  “Pause and consider,” Vinia said. “Do you really think your mother would let you go out into the wilderness with a girl who wasn’t your sister without taking precautions? Without making sure she knew exactly what you were up to every minute of the day and night? She’s the Sorceress of the Idea. Do you think there’s any idea you might have that she did not anticipate?”

  “Oh, bleep!” he swore.

  He was the prince and the Magician, while she was just a nondescript girl. But sometimes she governed their relationship. Vinia suspected that Ion would not care to have it otherwise.

  “She’s right, you know,” Hilda said from the nearby darkness. “Nobody sneaks any ideas past Mom.”

  Ion sighed. He knew it was true.

  Vinia was sure that Hilda and Benny had had a similar dialogue well before this time, with him being the sensible one. Ida did not extend her trust carelessly. No mother did.

  Still, the Adult Conspiracy could be a nuisance. If Vinia could have it her own way, with no outside censure, she would do it this instant with Ion, just as Benny would with Hilda. Childhood could be a burden.

  In the morning they discussed it briefly and decided to take the scenic route to the Good Magician’s Castle. For example, neither Vinia nor Benny had ever seen the famed Gap Chasm. For half a century it had been neglected, being under a forget spell, but when that had finally dissipated, it had become a tourist attraction. The dread Gap Dragon, a descendant of the original one Princess Ivy had pacified, had become almost tame, enjoying the notoriety.

  They breakfasted on tomato chips and people crackers, took turns visiting the privy, washing up, dressing, then doused the invisibility spell because it also made the outside realm invisible to them, messing up traveling.

  Xanth came into view in all its morning splendor. The sun was glowing behind cloud cover, perhaps doing its own pooping and washing up, girding itself for its arduous climb up into the sky, and the pale mists were sinking into shadows. They angled down to get a better view of the scenery below, the fields and streams and maidens washing in the puddles, then set off north, for the Gap Chasm.

  A screech of harpies spotted them and flew in close. “Look at this!” one screeched (of course). “A giant flying carpet! With children on it! Let’s have some fun with them!” However, their idea of fun was unlikely to be child’s play.

  Ion sat at the prow. “Desist, bird brains! This is a private conveyance.”

  The dirty birds screeched their coarse laughter. The nearest one oriented on the boy, her very gaze filthy. “Private, is it, innocent lad? We’ll show you some privates!” She flipped backward to expose her tail section, spreading the feathers. This would have been a violation of the Conspiracy, but harpies did not much honor it, anyway, except in the mocking of it, and bird anatomy hardly counted.

  “Second warning,” Ion said. “Desist annoying us and go your way in peace.”

  “Did he say piece?” another harpy screeched. “How’s this for a piece?” She thrust her bare bosom forward and inhaled. Vinia had to concede that she had pretty good breasts, exactly the kind that a boy Ion’s age should not get to peek at.

  “Get back out of range,” Ion warned the others. “The privy curtain will shield you.”

  They crowded into the privy together, to the raucous laughter of the harpies. Vinia was able to see some detail through the curtain. “Look! The kids are hiding!”

  “Or pooping!”

  “They’re party poopers!” The implications were filthier than the words.

  Ion uncapped a vial and blew its emerging mist at the harpies. They laughed as the vapor expanded into a faintly roiling cloud. “You think to tease us with a puff of bottled air? We’ll give you air!” Several presented their backsides, making rude noises. The thing about harpies was that they were dirty in mind as much as in body. Ion merely waited.

  Then they started choking and retching. “Yuck!” one gasped. “What is that odor?”

  “Essence of stink horn,” Ion answered. He breathed deeply. “Exhilarating, isn’t it.” He was of course immune to this, as it was a kind of elixir.

  The harpies tumbled out of the air, retching uncontrollably. They were amateurs, compared to a stink horn. The lack of the foul sound and hideous color had fooled them into basking in it. They were wise too late.

  Even in the protected locale of the privy, Vinia smelled half a whiff. It was the worst stench she had encountered in years. Rotten vomit soaked in parboiled day-old goblin poop after a feast on soiled has beans did not begin to describe it. But she wasn’t sorry for the harpies. Ion had warned them.

  They flew on, leaving the noxious cloud behind, admiring the colorful fields and forests. The land of Xanth was lovely from this perspective. Ion and Hilda were used to it, but Benny and Vinia gazed down in virginal awe. There were so many intriguing details!

  Then a large fire-breathing dragon spied the carpet. Maybe it had seen what happened to the harpies, as it circled them without approaching closely.

  “Begone, dragon,” Ion commanded.

  Instead the dragon oriented and inhaled, readying a blast. Uh-oh. Dragons did not take human directives well. It could toast them from well beyond the range of anything like stink horn stench.

  Ion did not seem to be concerned. He reached into his bag and brought out a small glowing ball. He set it on the carpet in front of him. “I call this the mini-nova effect,” he explained. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to use it.”

  “Nova?” Vinia asked nervously. She was not familiar with the term.

  “I traded with an old elf mage: a vial of high-grade youthening elixir for it. I thought it might be useful someday.”

  That didn’t help much. They would just have to see what happened.

  “Invoke,” Ion said.

  The ball abruptly expanded into a sparkling translucent sphere that surrounded the carpet. The dragon saw that and smiled, baring its deadly teeth. It was sure that a thin glassy ball would not withstand a direct fire strike. Then it sent its white-hot spear of fire.

  Vinia tried not to flinch as the spear smote the sphere, knowing that Ion knew his business. She saw Benny and Hilda similarly nervously unflinching. She saw it strike.

  The sphere flared hugely, making an expanding flame that scorched everything in a wide radius. Vinia could see the dust in the air exploding into ash, and the air itself magically transforming into some other element. The scorch touched the dragon, illuminating it in fire. The dragon was a fire creature, largely immune to heat, but this was clearly of a new order of intensity. Just as the harpies had been no match for stink horn elixir, the dragon was no match for the nova. It fell, its wings burned to crisps, its scales glowing with residual heat. The creature seemed to have survived as it bounced on the ground and wriggled away, trailing ash; it could grow new wings. But it would not bother them again.

  In fact, no dragon would try to harass them again. Word would get around. Ion was a Magician, and no one with any sense knowingly messed with magic of that caliber.

  Now maybe they had half a notion what a nova was. If this were mini, what would a full-size one be like? Vinia hesitated even to try to imagine that.

  Nothing aboard the carpet was affected. The glassy sphere had protected it.

  “A nova,” Hilda said weakly, obviously as bewildered as Vinia was.

  “It’s a bit like a black hole, only its force is outward rather than inward,” Ion explained. “The protective sphere is roughly analogous to an event horizon.”

  “Thank you for that clarification,” Benny said, similarly confused.