Vinia focused, glad to have the subject change. “It’s that Queen Apoca has to know about folk like Volney, and their King Vladimir is probably worse, and that he has his eye on her. She knows that the Volents captured us, and that we got away. She may think that they let us go on purpose, maybe after converting us to being submissive to their masculine will. She won’t trust us, with good reason. How can we prove our good faith to her?”

  Hilda nodded again. “I’d be suspicious. In fact, I’m suspicious now. Maybe they did let us go on purpose, letting us think we escaped. So we could subvert her.”

  “But what could we do to Apoca?” Vinia realized she was arguing the other case, but they needed to figure this out. Their escape did seem too easy, now that she thought about it. The way Volney had broken off the forced seduction and retired, after presenting them with a truly ugly threat, leaving only one guard who wasn’t smart. It did smell like a setup.

  “We could have the submission virus planted on us,” Ion said. “To infect her, so she couldn’t fight them anymore.”

  “The way the six or seven princesses of Thanx can’t fight,” Hilda agreed.

  “We could,” Vinia agreed with a shudder. The way Volney had handled her could have smeared virus elixir all over her, especially her face and her bottom. “It might not affect us, because we’re children, but it could really mess up the Lips camp.”

  “The perfect infiltration,” Hilda said. “Brought in unknowingly.”

  Ion smiled. “Fortunately, we can verify it, and nullify it.” He brought out a vial and opened it. Vapor came out, forming a cloud that surrounded them.

  Then Vinia was in the center of a burst of sparks. “What?” she cried, jumping up and slapping her bottom where they centered, zapping her. There was no burning, no pain, but it was alarming.

  “The antivirus is eliminating the virus, combusting it into oblivion,” Ion explained. “In a moment you’ll be clean. We’ll all be clean.”

  Vinia relaxed. Trust Ion to figure it out. She saw the sparks traveling out across the carpet, destroying the virus everywhere it had spread. “So we were trouble for the Lips.”

  “Not anymore,” Ion said.

  “But we can’t blame them for not trusting us,” Hilda said.

  “They should have some protocol for verifying visitors,” Ion said.

  “We can tell them what happened,” Vinia said. “How Volney pretended he was trying to make me react, when he was really planting the virus.” She felt ashamed, now, for falling for it.

  “He’s good,” Hilda agreed. “Too bad he’s on the wrong side.”

  They flew on through the night toward Apoca. Soon they spied what looked like a wickerwork castle, with a clear lighted field around it. So the Lips women were alert by night as well as by day. That was understandable. They glided in for a soft landing.

  Two Lips soldiers strode toward them. Both were lovely mature women, their beauty marred only by their outsize lips. One was shapely in a green dress that matched her hair and eyes; the other, in blue armor and helmet that matched her hair and eyes, stayed slightly back, holding a club.

  “Tarzana and Jane,” Ion murmured, referring to an old Mundane legend that had leaked into Xanth. It meant that one of them would be gruff and tough, while the other seemed to take the side of the visitors, trying to win their trust. Of the two, Jane was more dangerous to a real spy.

  Jane smiled in a manner that reminded Vinia of Volney: charmingly insincere. “Hello, visitors! What brings you nice children here at this late hour? Did you get lost?”

  “We are here to see Queen Apoca, who is expecting us,” Ion said. “I am Prince Ion of the Kingdom of Adamant. This is my sister, Princess Hilda. These are our companions, Benny and Vinia. Please conduct us to the queen.”

  “Not so fast, strangers,” Tarzana said. “We have no idea who you really are.”

  “But they told us,” Jane said. “They’re from Adamant.”

  “They could be lying.”

  “But they have the magic carpet.”

  “Which they could have stolen.”

  “But they’re only children.”

  “They could be runaways.”

  The children let the skit play out. Then Ion glanced at Vinia. It was her turn, again.

  “Please,” Vinia said, putting on her Uncertain Girl mode. “We are only trying to do what is right. We’re not runaways: we’re on a special mission for the Queendom of Thanx. We didn’t steal the carpet: Hilda is a Sorceress of sewing, and she made it. We have been in touch with Queen Apoca and she told us to come on in.”

  “A likely story,” Tarzana scoffed. “Every visitor claims to know the queen.”

  “But it could be true,” Jane said. “We have to give them a proper chance.”

  “Why don’t you ask Queen Apoca?” Vinia asked. “She should verify our contact.”

  Both Lips women laughed. “Dear, we don’t bother the queen for every routine tourist visit,” Jane explained. “We need to be sure of you before we let you into her residence.”

  Vinia got an idea. “Suppose Princess Hilda demonstrates her magic sewing ability? Then will you listen to us?”

  “Do that, child,” Tarzana said gruffly, obviously skeptical that she could.

  Hilda got up and stepped off the carpet. She approached Jane, who stood still while Tarzana held her club ready, just in case. Hilda brought out her needle and a thread. She knelt before Jane and sewed the thread into the hem of her skirt, all the way around. Then she rose and stepped back.

  The threaded hem lifted, showing nice legs. Then it showed nicer thighs. In fact, it hauled the skirt up until the woman’s full green panties were exposed. Jane hastily pushed the skirt back down, but it continued to lift where her hands weren’t holding it, delivering more thigh and panty flashes.

  Ion and Benny seemed about to freak out. It wasn’t just the panties, it was her extremely well-formed legs, her ample hips, and the general contours of her body. She was a stunningly shapely woman.

  “I think she made her point,” Tarzana said, her gruffness under siege by a threatening laugh. She was quite shapely, too, under her armor, in a heavier-set way.

  “You made it,” Jane agreed. “Now how do I get my modesty back?”

  “This is a docile thread,” Hilda said. “Simply tell it to relax. It’s your thought that counts.”

  “Relax, thread!” Jane exclaimed desperately.

  The hem subsided, returning to its natural place at the bottom of the skirt. Jane was modest again.

  “But if you should ever want to, well, flash a man, or prove to a dubious woman that now your dress really is magic,” Hilda said, “just say ‘Thread, fly.’”

  Jane couldn’t resist trying it. “Thread, fly.”

  The hem rose up again, exposing her fine limbs.

  “Thread relax,” Jane said quickly. The skirt became sedate. Vinia suspected that the woman did not really mind showing off her assets, as it were.

  “Okay, we believe you,” Tarzana said, abandoning her gruffness. “You’re a Sorceress. But we still must check you out. We understand that your party was captured by the Volents. How did you escape?”

  Vinia launched into the story. Both Lips women paid close attention. “Then when we were airborne, we realized that it could be a ruse. So Magician Ion used an elixir, and it burned out all the viruses Volney had planted on me. It really was a trap, but now we are clean.”

  “I believe you,” Jane said. “But you must understand, we must verify that you are safe before we let you get close to the queen. The Volents can be extremely sneaky.”

  “We know,” Vinia said. “I thought Volney was going to, well, do something naughty with me, though I am underage, when all the time he was just planting the virus.”

  “We are familiar with the name. He has a reputation. He does have a way with women. You are an attractive girl. Had you been of age, he would have been naughty with you and planted the virus.”

  “And you need to be sure there is not some other catch,” Vinia agreed. She found herself liking these Lips women, as she got to know them. Maybe she just liked people. “How can we help you?”

  “The primary threat is the virus. There could be some your antivenin didn’t get. We’ll run you through the submission test.”

  “We’re not submissive,” Hilda said.

  “You’re children. We need an adult woman. And a man.”

  Oh. “Whatever,” Hilda agreed.

  They brought a third woman, dark haired and eyed, together with a man, blond of hair, blue of eye. The woman was not a Lips; she lacked the lips and was not in uniform.

  “These are Tony and Meg,” Tarzana said. “They will touch each of you and tour your carpet. If anything is there, it will get on them. Then we’ll see.” She faced the pair. “Do it.”

  Tony turned to Meg. “Kiss me, floozy.”

  “Go take a flying fling at the moon,” she retorted.

  Tarzana nodded. “Parameters normal. Now explore.”

  The two shook hands with each of the children, then walked all around the carpet, exploring every detail. They stepped off. Tony faced Meg again. He opened his mouth. “Get lost,” she snapped. “And take that erotic thought with you.”

  Tarzana smiled. “No virus,” she reported.

  “This way,” Jane said as the test couple walked away.

  They entered the castle. “This is very fine work,” Hilda said. “You must have a Sorceress of Wicker.”

  “We do,” Jane agreed. “We have been hard-pressed and have had to move frequently. She can make us a residence quickly.”

  They passed two men carrying boxes. Jane’s skirt lifted almost too high as she passed. The men’s eyes bulged, but they didn’t freak. Jane smiled privately; she had already learned proper mental control.

  Then they were ushered into the presence of Queen Apoca. She was the most curvaceous woman Vinia had ever seen. Her lips were bigger, too. But it was her hair that was her most remarkable feature. It looked gray but was translucent. It was not especially long but did nicely frame her face.

  “Welcome, guests,” she said, and her hair flashed pale green. “I’m sorry to have had to put you through that rigmarole, but we had to be sure.”

  “We understand,” Hilda said. “Um, your hair—?”

  “It is colorless, but conducts the color of my scalp, which glows with my mood. Green is welcome or agreement or positive; blue is disagreement or negative; red is frustration or anger; yellow is doubt or mystery; black is for the feeling of doom or approach of death. I normally wear a concealing cap when I go out, to have some privacy of feeling.”

  “This is remarkable,” Ion said, openly impressed.

  “Thank you.” Her hair flashed dark green. “It is good to have a compliment from a Magician.”

  “And from a Sorceress,” Hilda said. “I never even imagined hair like yours. It’s marvelous! Is that your talent?”

  “No. It is my nature. I was ridiculed for it as a child.” Her hair turned blue.

  “Children can be cruel. I am a child, but I hope not a cruel one.”

  “You clearly are not.” Apoca reoriented, her hair turning yellow. “Now exactly what is it you want of me?”

  “As we told you before,” Vinia said, “we have to stop the virus before the Queendom of Thanx is destroyed. We need to make a deal for the antivirus.”

  Apoca’s hair turned orange, which Vinia interpreted as a mood between doubt and frustration. “Ah, yes. But as I told you before, I can’t help you. It is not that I am unsympathetic to your need, it is that I am unable. I fear you have come here for nothing.”

  “But we need the elixir to nullify it,” Vinia said. “We were told that you have it.”

  Now the hair was dark blue. “Not exactly. Such an elixir may exist, but we do not possess it.”

  “But the Good Magician said—”

  “Contrary to his reputation, the Good Magician does not know everything. He perhaps assumed.” The hair was a cross between blue and red. “I am able to counter the virus, but there is no elixir.”

  Vinia looked at the others. Ion returned a gaze that suggested Stall. He was figuring it out but needed more time.

  Vinia struggled to accommodate. “Please, Queen Apoca, we want to understand, but we know too little. If you have the time, could you tell us more about yourself, so that maybe we can better appreciate your perspective?”

  Apoca considered, her hair shifting back to yellow. “Vinia, when you contacted me before, I was curious, so then I did a bit of spot research. Little is known of you, personally, but what there is is intriguing. You were an ordinary tourist with abundant allergies who met and somehow won the love of Prince Ion and have been with him ever since. Yet you are by the accounts an almost completely ordinary girl, though with a nice talent of telekinesis. Suppose we exchange more personal information?”

  “Oh, I am of no importance,” Vinia protested. “I’m just a nobody.”

  Apoca smiled, and her hair flashed a brilliant green. “You are modest to an extreme. Yet your three companions are in awe of you, despite the elevated stations of some of them, and they depend on you more than you may appreciate. I wonder whether you could have a second talent, a hidden one? That’s very rare, but it does happen. Perhaps the other talent is an aspect of your personal state, as my hair and lips are mine. Yet it is surely the secret to your selection as the protagonist of this narrative. Please, I would very much like to get to know you better.”

  Vinia looked again at the others, confused. The Queen had done more than spot research on her! Yet this was not supposed to be about her, but about their mission. She was supposed to be a background character, not a foreground one. An observer, not a mover. She was really messing that up.

  Three gazes bore on her. They all indicated DO IT.

  What could she do, but yield in the manner of a true submissive? “As you wish, Queen Apoca.”

  The hair flashed yellow green. “Excellent.” She turned to indicate a set of full-size mirrors, halfway facing each other. “Here is the protocol. These are matching magic mirrors of a special type I obtained when I did a special favor for a glassmaker. They are arranged to interact with each other, the reflection of one merging in a manner with the other. We will approach them carefully, delivering our reflections to one and thus to both, and merge in the common picture. Do you understand?”

  “No,” Vinia said. “I am not smart the way the twins are.”

  “No matter. You will pick it up soon enough. Also do not be concerned about your allergies; they will not occur here, because the ambiance of Ion now permeates this area. Come here.”

  Vinia went to her. She saw that Apoca was not a large woman: she was about the same height as Vinia, though her adult figure was infinitely superior. The queen took her by the elbows and aimed her at the right mirror. Vinia saw her reflection therein, a dull ordinary girl in a faint cloud of confusion. Then Apoca faced the left mirror, seeing her reflection. “Now walk slowly toward your image, until you reach the interaction.”

  Vinia obeyed, knowing that the others were watching them both. Apoca walked slightly away from her, toward her own mirror. They came at the same time to the spots right in front of the mirrors where the reflections managed to cross.

  And then they were in a kind of neverland whose boundary seemed to be an endless series of reflections. Vinia saw herself from multiple perspectives, front, back, sides. When she moved a hand, all her hands moved, but in different directions. The same was true of Apoca.

  “Take one more step,” the queen said.

  Vinia did. The myriad reflections disappeared, and the two of them were in some other kind of realm.

  “We are of different ages, but here we can match,” Apoca said. “Make yourself five years old.”

  Vinia obligingly pictured herself as she had been at that age. Her clothing remained the same, but her form changed within it, so that it still fit. Now she was a supremely ordinary little child.

  “Hello.”

  Vinia turned to see Apoca, as another five-year-old girl. Now she lacked the adult shape, but her lips were big, and the cloud of hair remained translucent. It was definitely her.

  “Uh, I’m Vinia.”

  “I’m Apoca. We are on the way to my Centaur School class.”

  They walked side by side along the faint path that showed before them. “I never had Centaur School,” Vinia said. “I am a poor girl, having to learn things at home.”

  “You may be better off than I.”

  Several other children were on a converging path. “Oh, there’s hairbrain Pocka with the big mouth,” a boy said.

  “Ignore him,” Apoca told Vinia. “As teasing goes, this is not too bad. It’s worse when they manage to embarrass me, and my hair turns blue red. At this age my mouth lacks its kissing power, so it is merely unsightly.”

  But Vinia, however obscure she might be in her larger life, had never been one to suffer insults in silence. “Your mouth is pretty big, too, buster!”

  “Oh, yeah?” He cut across to them. “You take that back, snotnose, or else.”

  Vinia knew she should back off. But she did have her telekinesis if she needed it. “Or else what, fathead?”

  “Or else this.” He swung his fist at her face before she could dodge aside. She instinctively set up a telekinetic block just next to her head.

  The fist passed right through her head without touching it. She was like a ghost in this realm.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “You get pretty poor aim, poop-face,” she teased him.

  Dismayed by what he did not understand, he backed off.

  “Let him go,” Apoca whispered. “We don’t want to make an unscripted scene.”

  Vinia realized that manifesting as a ghost here could lead to complications. Most folk were spooked by ghosts. So she left off.