Nolan and Apoca joined the Lips section of the queendom contingent and took their seats. It was just about time. Nolan was reminded of their own wedding to come, which would be barely an echo of this one, but just as meaningful to them personally. They were of course not Demons, merely mortal royalty.

  Then the music started, at first subdued, then expanding to fill the stadium. It was authoritative and beautiful; any question anyone might have had about the melodic skill of the unicorns was banished with the first notes. A hush fell on the throng; it was time to pay attention.

  The music hushed as a figure appeared at the central dais, male and forbidding. “A greeting, all. I am the demon Professor Grossclout, here to officiate at the marriage of the human manifestation of the Dwarf Demon of Talents, otherwise known as Gent, and the human manifestation of the Dwarf Demoness of Transcription, otherwise known as Ghorgeous.” He paused, and the stadium was silent, for his talent was Intimidation. “Participants, show yourselves.”

  The couple appeared. He was stunningly handsome in a form fitting dark suit, and she was of course gorgeous in a tiara and wedding gown that seemed almost ghostly in the way it displayed her spectacular face and figure. There was a subdued sigh in the audience as every man wished he could have married a creature like that, and every woman wished she could have been a creature like that. Which was of course the point of the outfit.

  “Are you ready?” Grossclout glowered.

  “We are,” the groom and bride answered together, suitably cowed.

  “Are the accouterments in order?”

  “Here!” Vinia called as she hurried up. “A set of magic rings that guarantee, well, you know.” She was unable to finish because she was underage.

  “Fertility,” Grossclout said, annoyed. “The Adult Conspiracy is overdue for an update, as it obstructs clarity.” He let loose a token glower. “Very well. The bride will go to the far side of the hall, at the end of the red carpet.” The carpet appeared. “The Wedding March will start, and she will commence her walk. Once the music begins, the ceremony will proceed to its inexorable conclusion. If you have any doubts, speak now or forever hold your idiotic peace.”

  They would not have dared to have any doubts.

  Ghorgeous took her place at the far end of the long carpet, while Gent and Vinia waited beside Grossclout. The evocative theme of the Wedding March began. The guests watched and listened, fascinated, and a number of the women were tearful. It seemed that unicorns were not the only thing that truly moved the fair gender.

  Then something off-script happened. A small flying dragon appeared, making its way erratically to Ghorgeous. “Help! A dragnet is attacking the Dragon Refuge! It is sweeping up all the ill dragons, who will surely be compacted into canned spam. Only I escaped to cry the alarm!” Having done that, it dropped to the floor, its flame expiring.

  “Canned spam? The bleep it will,” the Demoness swore, only the word she used wasn’t quite covered by the bleep. An h showed at one end, and an l at the other. Then she vanished, leaving her clothing behind. There were dragons to save!

  The groom, observing that, hastened to join her, vanishing himself, leaving his suit behind.

  The music paused in place, prolonging a single note. The Wedding March had commenced; it could not be stopped, only paused.

  “It seems we have a problem,” Grossclout said, issuing a medium-sized glower. “There has to be a wedding. The ceremony cannot be abated at this stage.” He paused a good quarter of a moment to let steam out of his ears. “Have we a volunteer?”

  There was a disorganized silence in the rest of the audience, fitting neatly around the sustained note. No one else had come here to get married.

  The Demons in attendance sat without reacting. There was an obscure hint of a suggestion of a smile hovering near Chaos’s face. What was he thinking?

  Then a young woman appeared before Nolan and Apoca. “It better be you,” she said grimly.

  “Mnemonica!” Apoca exclaimed, recognizing her daughter-to-be. “What are you doing here?”

  “I got an ugly premonition. It made me feel only partially real. I went to Squid, who exists through to my time, and she gave me a pass through Limbo. I have to promote a wedding. My existence depends on it.”

  This was weird. “What are you talking about?” Nolan asked.

  She gave him a stare so direct it almost tanned his hide. “I know the date and hour of your wedding. There’s a commemorative plaque because the two of you are known for saving the talents. It is today and now. You have to do it, and follow through in proper fashion tonight, or you will change history and I will never exist. Now, get out there and do it.” She raised a hand to signal the professor. “Volunteers!” She pointed to the two of them. “And don’t ever mention this to me as a child. I will remember when the time comes. Paradox, you know.”

  “We won’t,” Apoca promised, amazed.

  The audience broke into applause, grateful to the volunteers. “Get in your places,” Grossclout snapped, more interested in the procedure than the participants.

  What could they do? They stood, to more applause, and Nolan walked up to the dais while Apoca went to the far end of the carpet. They weren’t dressed for the star roles. Nolan picked up Gent’s dropped wedding suit. It magically enclosed him, replacing his own clothing, fitting perfectly, making him the Handsome Groom. Apoca picked up the wedding dress, and it enclosed her similarly. Suddenly she was a radiant bride, leaving only a few strategic shadows to the imagination in front and back.

  She glanced Nolan’s way. He nodded. They were committed. How could they deny their only daughter her existence? Then she stepped onto the carpet and marched forward. The music resumed, swelling into magnificence. She had indeed become the Bride.

  Nolan looked where they had been in the audience, minutes or eons ago. Mnemonica was gone. She had done what she could and had to depart before the threatened paradox got worse. It was probably dangerous even to think about it too much. Paradox was treacherous stuff.

  Apoca marched along the carpet. The wedding dress enhanced her, to be sure, but she was a spectacular woman in her own right. Her hair was flashing plaid with her tumultuous thoughts, contributing further to her perfection. Nolan absolutely adored her.

  The music crescendoed as she arrived at the dais, then faded to a pleasant background. The unicorns were indeed the perfect musicians. “Very good,” Grossclout conceded grudgingly. He went into the words of mutual commitment, which they dutifully echoed. Soon they had both I-do’d. Nolan was hardly picking up on the details, overwhelmed by the suddenness and completeness of the occasion. His courtship of his perfect woman was in abrupt culmination!

  Then he saw half a tear in Apoca’s eye and knew that she was as moved as he was. There was more to their union than occasionally matching hair.

  “The rings,” Grossclout commanded.

  Oh, yes. They were forgetting that detail.

  Vinia stepped forth, bearing the two rings on an elegant cushion. They went through the ceremony of putting them on each other. The moment his ring circled his wedding finger, Nolan felt an extra surge of desire for Apoca. He wanted to get to the privacy of their room and signal a thousand storks simultaneously. Oh yes, the ring ensured potency.

  “Mnemonica, here we come,” Apoca murmured.

  Exactly.

  “I now pronounce you woman and husband.” This was after all the queendom. “You may kiss the groom.”

  Another detail they were forgetting in the wonder of the experience. They embraced and kissed, and the music surged into a climax, perhaps a bit of unicorn humor. Nolan was immune to her love-slave kiss, being already thoroughly enamored, but he thrilled to the reality of their union and knew that she did too. They had known they would marry but hadn’t expected it on this day, at this hour.

  There was a stir in the audience. The Dwarf Demons had returned! Transcription held the torn remnant of the dragnet, which would never threaten dragons again. It should have known better than to go after dragons protected by a Demoness. Meanwhile, a collection of injured dragons were taking an empty section of the stadium, beside that of the unicorns, who looked a trifle uneasy. They had become guests.

  “Sorry about the delay,” Talents said. “May we resume where we left off?”

  Grossclout took it in stride. He had to, because while he was a fearsome demon, these were Demons, vastly more powerful. “You may. There has been a small change in the interim. You will need to generate new clothes and rings.”

  Nolan and Apoca backed off, satisfied to return the stage to its original actors. They stood beside the injured dragons, who seemed to recognize Apoca, though she had visited them only in a dream sequence.

  Transcription took her place at the end of the carpet, garbed in a fresh gown. Talents stood beside Vinia in the center, whose cushioned rings had been regenerated. The music surged back to life. It had become a double wedding.

  The ceremony proceeded as before. Nolan looked around and saw the Demon Chaos, whose smile now quirked near the corner of his lips. Suddenly Nolan knew that the Demon had known this would happen. Chaos had acted to save Mnemonica, probably at Squid’s urging. It had not been coincidence. In fact, very little of what followed the Kiss might have been coincidence. They would never know for sure.

  The Demons donned their rings and kissed. Sparks flew out, becoming little orbiting hearts. They, too, were now officially married, and learning the little signals of love. Their new souls made that important.

  The occasion swung into the next stage, the Dance. The stadium was abruptly festooned with ribbons and softly glowing lights as the unicorn orchestra struck up the Purple Danube Waltz. “Get out there,” Grossclout said as he appeared beside them. “You know the routine.”

  So they did. They embraced and danced. It was delightful. The other couple was also dancing. Then the music paused, and they changed partners.

  Nolan found himself dancing with Ghorgeous, who was every bit as lovely in the flesh as she had been as a ghost and more graceful to hold. “Thank you for what you did,” she murmured. “You gave me back my physical life.”

  “Actually that was Apoca who worked it out. She finally fathomed the hints we had been seeing. You were the key to our success.”

  “I’m not going to dance with her. I am thanking you as a couple.” Her expression changed, becoming beautiful in a different way, and her eyes were shining little stars. “I thank you too,” the Demoness said. “At last I have the soul I longed for, in effect. And the legal presence as a citizen of Xanth to enable me to help the dragons. The rest is incidental.” She meant marrying Talents. The soul of the ghost was worth more to her than the Demon.

  “You’re welcome, both of you,” Nolan said. “You did us a return favor when the dragons interrupted you, enabling me to marry my beloved.” And save Mnemonica from nonexistence, but they were going to be silent about that aspect. Any incidental mention might wipe out a precious life.

  The music paused again. Now the other female guests were taking their turns dancing with the grooms, while Apoca and Ghorgeous danced with the men. Nolan liked the idea of dancing with the women but wasn’t sure about his wife dancing with the men.

  In the next stage the men got to kiss the brides, and the women kissed the grooms. Ghorgeous/Transcription gave him a kiss of gratitude that would have floated him out of the stadium on any lesser occasion. Oh yes, he loved Apoca, but Ghorgeous could have taken him had he not been committed elsewhere. She was all woman and more than woman. Gent/Talents were lucky males.

  And the Banquet. There were all the usual foods, such as beefsteak from tomato plants, pied pies, boot rear and beau tea to drink, and eye scream and electric currants for dessert.

  Then came an announcement by Queen Demesne. “It has been proposed that the portals that admit the unicorns be left in place after the festivities. It seems that the women and children of Thanx and the unicorns of Phaze enjoy each other’s company and would like to perpetuate it. All in favor, say Aye.”

  There was a loud chorus of ayes, admixed with a few I’s and eyes and aye-ayes. The portals would stay. That saved Nolan and Apoca the chore of taking down and bringing back the one on Phaze.

  At last the day wore out, and the celebrants dispersed. It had been a momentous occasion that all the guests had enjoyed, especially the girls riding the unicorns. The Dwarf Demon couple disappeared, surely compelled by their wedding rings. Nolan knew exactly how that felt. He was more than ready to be with Apoca.

  Then they were alone together in their bedroom. “Tomorrow we travel to visit your Naga Kingdom,” Apoca said as she stepped out of her clothing. “So your folks can see what you found and captured in your travels.”

  “It better be you,” he said, and they laughed.

  Then they set about making sure Mnemonica was properly ordered. It was quite a night. Their daughter would be lucky if she didn’t turn out to be twins or triplets or worse.

  The two batons had stayed in the background throughout the ceremonies. Now they came forward together. “Your story is ended,” Batoness printed. “We must leave you now.”

  “Maybe that’s just as well,” Nolan said.

  “It has been a great adventure,” Apoca agreed. “But we shall be happy to recover our privacy.”

  “We value our privacy too.”

  Nolan wondered what the batons needed privacy for. Did they have rituals for reproduction, the way mortals did? He was tempted to ask, but the batons faded out and …

  Author’s Note

  My life progresses novel by novel. During the last novel, Six Crystal Princesses, my wife, Carol, died. We had been married sixty-three years, but few things last forever apart from Death, Taxes, and the Puns of Xanth. It was an ugly shock, but it had been long in coming and was not a surprise. I knew I did not want to live alone, and that Carol was not coming back, so I invited a long-term correspondent, MaryLee, age sixty, to come be my companion, perhaps more. She is another writer, so understands the devious ways of writers. I told her that I might not be much, at age eighty-five, but we had these warm Florida winters. She came to visit, stayed, and it got serious. It is said that love is friendship that catches fire. It caught fire. We married and she is now my wife. So that is part of the legacy of this novel. There sort of had to be a wedding in it. There may be a bit of magic in Mundania after all.

  Things have changed, as there is now a new sheriff in town, as it were. I no longer wear suspenders or socks with my sandals, as these, MaryLee informed me, made me look my age of eighty-five, now eighty-six. I discovered that new marriage is bleep on a schedule. We also undertook a massive house and property cleanup and got new trails carved in the tree farm to make every part of it accessible. Now we can get out to see the shores of Lake Tsala Apopka, the Mundane version of Lake Tsoda Popka in Xanth. We live in backwoods Florida, with oak, pine, and magnolia trees admixed, and saw and sabal palmetto trees throughout. The saw palmetto is a tree that crawls across the ground until it finds a good place to stand; then it angles up into the sky. The sabal palmetto starts with a single spear of a frond poking up from the ground, then expands into a bushy mass of fronds, then grows into a tree whose trunk resembles a wickerwork basket, and finally sheds the crisscross decoration and becomes a normal palm tree. It is the state tree of Florida. We were married before a handsome sabal palmetto beside our driveway. So there is magic in the backwoods too. We live in a subtropical paradise, apart from the mosquitos.

  We were also subjected to the coronavirus pandemic, which started in China and spread to the world, becoming the worst global medical and economic crisis since the Spanish flu a century before. It might have been stifled at the outset by scrupulously restricting traffic from infected areas, except for ignorant politicians who first pretended it was fake news, then tried to use it to cull minorities. MaryLee and I stayed home and used masks for things like doctor visits, escaping it. I had hoped to take her to restaurants, beaches, movies, Disney World, maybe a scenic train trip for our honeymoon. Alas, all gone; the honeymoon was obliterated. But we found that it’s not such a bad thing, being housebound for months while newly married. Kisses, hugs, and secrets of the Adult Conspiracy can make up for a lot. If you noted peripheral references to the pandemic in the novel, such as the pundemic zone or the witches’ Coven-19, those were probably not coincidental.

  Another significant change is the keyboard. I touch-type on the Dvorak keyboard layout, which was designed to be efficient. The QWERTY layout was designed to be inefficient because in the early days of mechanical typewriters, the keys could jam if the most used letters were too close together. So the most used keys were spaced far apart from each other. This made sense, then. But the advancement of technology eliminated the jamming problem; you can’t jam adjacent computer keys by rapid typing. But the public remains locked into the horse-and-buggy inefficiency, other than a few sensible folk like me who moved to Dvorak. Except that the computer industry stuck its finger in our eye by changing the punctuation keys about. So I found myself spelling words like “isn;t.” Since I believe the machine should serve the user, rather than the other way around, I had to get programming to change the keys back. So naturally, software updates messed that up, making it increasingly difficult to work. I needed a programmable keyboard that the computer programmers couldn’t mess with. But I also use an ergonomic keyboard, because that abates the carpal tunnel syndrome I got touch-typing on the cramped regular keyboard. Sure enough, there was no programmable ergonomic keyboard. But now at last there is. Mine is Ergodox, at ergodox-ez.com; there may be others. The forces of darkness can no longer mess with me. I hope. This novel was typed on the new keyboard; if it stinks, blame the—never mind.