“It appears that Thanx, and maybe Xanth itself, is suffering from a kind of curse that causes all newly delivered babies to have the same talent, that of summoning pies. Apple pies, mud pies, cow pies, whatever. It gets messy. Our mission, as we interpret it, is to rectify this problem before too many more babies are spoiled. Vinia here has a touch for finding the right route to lead us to the solution. Unfortunately it leads right into the pundemic zone. We don’t think we can handle that ourselves.”

  “Eye aim knot gooing their!” Gent protested. “Ime slick oaf pens!”

  “But we nheed you,” Ghorgeous said.

  He looked at her. “Isle bee candied. Aye loaf lee wombat lake yoo cud charnel mee unto ding eat wit aye keys, butt yore knot reel.”

  Apoca stifled a smile. He had tried to call her a lovely woman, but it had come out “loaf lee wombat,” and doing it with a kiss had become “ding eat wit aye keys.” A curse indeed. This might take some getting used to.

  “I am rheel,” Ghorgeous said as firmly as her ethereal state allowed. “Merely without my late body. I can firm up small parts of it at need. I could kiss you if I focused.”

  “Bout your steel uh goose.”

  She nodded. “But I am still a ghost,” she agreed. She seemed to have no trouble understanding him. “I’d love to have a handsome man like you to charm, but I know my limitation. Still, you should out of common decency consider our proposal.”

  He shook his head. “Eye fuel bat abate at, butt eye cant facet moor pains.”

  “You feel bad about it,” the ghost translated. “But can’t face more puns.”

  “Yew canny union staid meal!”

  “I can understand you,” Ghorgeous agreed. “Because I am mostly reading your mind to get your meaning, as I do for the others.” She quirked a trace of a smile. “Being discorporate has its minor points.”

  “Yeast.”

  “Yes.”

  “We have a problem,” Apoca said. “We really do need you to handle the abominable puns.” She glanced at Vinia. “True?”

  “True,” Vinia said. “All the other paths lose their green, and some are downright black.”

  “Watt ism tis groin?”

  “What is this green?” Ghorgeous translated. She looked at Apoca. “Can we safely answer?”

  Apoca was firm. “Not unless he joins the mission. We do have privacy issues.”

  “Eye aim knot journeying yore misting.”

  “Bleep,” Apoca swore. She could express herself more effectively, but not in the presence of a child. “Am I going to have to kiss you?”

  He laughed. “Eye no yore Lisp clams. Eye donate bereave theme.”

  So he was a skeptic about the love-slave properties of the Lips kisses, the more fool he. “You would kiss me?”

  He nodded. He thought that a Lips kiss was just a smooch. She would have to make him a believer.

  “I wouldn’t,” Ghorgeous said warningly.

  “Eye wood.”

  “Then do it,” Apoca said, stepping up to face him closely. She knew she was an attractive woman, and she had seen him eyeing her, as he had Ghorgeous. He was foolishly interested.

  He didn’t hesitate. He truly believed that the Lips talent was fake. He took her in his arms and soundly kissed her mouth. He probably hadn’t been able to do that with a willing woman since the curse.

  The Lips folk didn’t have to kiss for effect; they could be normal when they chose. In regular family relationships they were just like regular women. But this was a special occasion. She put her magic into it, kissing for effect. She felt the power of it passing from her lips to his, and on into him. He was done for.

  Gent fell back, half stunned.

  “Uh-oh,” Ghorgeous said for him.

  “You are now my love slave,” Apoca said, knowing that her hair was turning plaid because she was concealing any emotions she might have had. This was a necessary process. “My whim is your command. We will not be lovers. You will merely gladly obey my every command. I shall not be a harsh mistress, and I will let you go when my need for your services is over.”

  He nodded assent. It was not in him to oppose any wish of hers. He had become a believer the hard way.

  “You expressed aversion to entering the region of the pundemic,” she continued. “But we need your help there. I regret putting you through this, but it is necessary to facilitate our larger purpose. I can if necessary direct you to suppress your aversion, and that should abate it, at least to an extent.”

  He nodded again, amenable to whatever she wanted.

  “We do have some trouble understanding your speech, so when you have to talk, Ghorgeous will translate. When you need to find something, such as a safe place to sleep, Vinia will show you where. Trust her; she knows.”

  He nodded once more.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  Now he spoke. “Yeast. Wren dew oui startle?”

  Ghorgeous smiled. “When do we start?” she translated.

  “Within a few days. So organize your home for your absence, and prepare a knapsack with supplies for yourself, as we can’t be sure we will always be near pie plants or blanket trees. Ghorgeous will notify you when we are ready.”

  He nodded once more and retreated into his house.

  Apoca glanced at the others. “Now we should do the same for ourselves.”

  “Adventure, here we come!” Vinia exclaimed with youthful enthusiasm. Apoca refrained from commenting, being less thrilled by the prospect.

  They organized. Vinia clarified things with Ion and his sister Princess Hilda; Ghorgeous informed her ghost friends, and Nimbus let the nickelpedes know. Apoca and Vinia packed food and supplies, and Vinia fetched a chip of wood from the haunted house so that Ghorgeous would have it to orient on, as otherwise she would have been limited in range. The ghosts were no longer absolutely bound, but they got uncomfortable too far away from the house. Apoca explained things to Queen Demesne, who was happy to have a competent team on the case. They were ready.

  The next morning, Ghorgeous appeared before Apoca. “Vinia says he’s coming within the hour! There’s a bright-green path to where we can meet him. She’s rousting out Gent now.”

  “Thank you. Tell her to swing by here so I can join you.” Apoca was already appreciating the usefulness of the ghost in coordinating things.

  Soon they were together. Apoca knew her hair was bright plaid as she suppressed her horrendously mixed feelings about this whole adventure. She wanted to save the talents for the babies, yes, and she was intrigued about being seriously courted. But the whole thing was such a challenge!

  It seemed like just a moment before they were organized as a unified party and heading out to meet Prince Nolan. There across the field was a male figure. Apoca saw the plaid color of his head. That was him!

  Apoca gritted her teeth and marched forward. She hoped, ridiculously, that she was looking suitably regal. Or at least attractive. Or something.

  Chapter 3

  Pundemic

  Nolan saw the approaching party: a woman, a girl, and a man. Who were they?

  “See the plaid!” Aurora exclaimed in his mind. “That’s the one!”

  Now he saw it: the woman had plaid hair. She was the one. Indeed, the Baton of Protagonism was flying from her. It had done its job and was reverting to its home base: him.

  Suddenly his knees felt shaky. He had used the protected paths to make his way to the Queendom of Thanx, intent on catching and wooing his ideal woman. He hadn’t thought much about the details of interaction. And there she was. With another man.

  “There are men in the queendom,” Aurora reminded him. “She can work with them without committing to them.”

  Oh, of course. He had to beware of unfounded assumptions.

  “That’s right,” the ant said. “In fact, it’s probably just as well I’m along. You don’t seem to know much about handling women.”

  She had him dead to rights. He had interacted with women all his life but never courted one before. Suddenly he cared about this one’s personal reactions.

  “I will whisper in your ear, as it were, so you don’t foul up too badly.”

  “Thanks,” he said sincerely. He had not realized before how much difference female guidance could make in a situation like this.

  “All part of the deal. I need to keep you on course so you can find us a suitable location. That won’t work well if you alienate your desired woman at the outset.”

  She was right, again. Her mind was as fiery in its fashion as her burning talent.

  “Thank you.” He felt her pleasure. But he would have to watch his incidental thoughts, lest he inadvertently annoy her.

  “You are catching on.”

  He walked on.

  The other party walked on too. In barely three and a half moments they came together. “Hello, Nolan Naga,” the woman said. “I am Apoca Lips.” She indicated the girl. “This is my friend Vinia, who will assist us in locating and traveling safe paths through the wilderness.” She touched her own shoulder, where a deadly bug perched. “This is my friend Nimbus Nicklepede, who will assist with tangled terrain and with liaison with others of her kind.” She indicated the man. “This is my love slave Pun Gent, who will help us handle the clustering puns.” She gestured to an empty space. “This is Ghorgeous Ghost, who will help with communications. Ghorgeous, present yourself to him, so he knows you.”

  There was a flicker in the air before his face, and the translucent face of a marvelously lovely woman formed. “Hello, Nolan,” she said via a projection to his mind. “And Aurora Ant.” She faded out to a faint flicker.

  “Hello, Ghost,” Aurora thought, surprised. “So you are telepathic!”

  “Not exactly. I am amorphous. I touched the two of you with my invisible substance and picked up your thoughts. Without that contact I could not communicate well.”

  “It seems they already have the Quest organized,” Nolan murmured in a thought, taken aback.

  “They’re women.” That of course explained it. Women liked to organize personal details. “Now graciously acknowledge.”

  He opened his mouth. “Uh—”

  “Well spoken, Prince,” Apoca said. “Shall we be on our way?” She glanced at the girl.

  “Vinia,” Aurora said in his mind. That was just as well, because Nolan had lost track in the welter of introductions. “Ghorgeous updated me. She sees paths.”

  Vinia nodded. “The greenest path is right now.”

  Apoca looked at Nolan. “Green is best. We can’t see the colors, but she can. We will follow her.”

  Just like that, they were on their way, with the baton hovering near Nolan.

  “Apoca makes the decisions?” he asked the ant silently.

  “Well, Apoca is a queen,” Aurora said. “Accustomed to command. No fainting flower. Is that the kind you like?”

  He realized that he had not had any real expectations about the woman. He had been compelled by her plaid hair, which it was now apparent was a temporary color; at the moment it was green, which he presumed was positive. Regardless, she remained a most intriguing woman. “She has a fine figure.”

  “I will take that as a yes,” Aurora said, amused.

  He found himself walking beside Apoca. “Not coincidence,” Aurora said. “She is curious about you. This is your chance to make a good initial impression.”

  “Well, fancy meeting you here, Prince,” Apoca said.

  “Say something clever,” the ant advised.

  “Uh—”

  “I understand you came to court me because of my hair.”

  This one he could answer. “Not exactly. The Good Magician told me you were my ideal woman.”

  “The current question is whether you are my ideal man.”

  Aurora made a mental picture of a man fending off the thrust of a spear. “Don’t respond to that directly. She’s poking at you to see how you react.”

  He rallied to the challenge. “Then I saw you in a magic mirror, and your hair was plaid, like mine.”

  “And for you that was sufficient.”

  “Trap!” Aurora warned. “Don’t agree.”

  “No,” he said. “I liked that your hair seemed to match mine, but I had to get to know you personally before I could judge your fitness for me.”

  “So you could verify my figure.”

  He didn’t even need the ant’s warning. Apoca had one of the finest figures in Xanth. But it annoyed him to be tested like this. He was, after all, a prince. So he gave an answer calculated to annoy her also. “That too.”

  She laughed. “So you do have some spunk.”

  He had to smile. “Some,” he agreed.

  “Maybe we’ll get along.”

  “We will if you so choose.”

  She nodded and was silent.

  “Good riposte,” the ant commented. The baton nodded as well.

  The ghost appeared. “Something magic this way comes.”

  Vinia looked, surprised. “But the path is green.”

  “Prince Magician Ion and Princess Sorceress Hilda,” Ghorgeous clarified. “They’re green too.”

  Something appeared in the sky, approaching them. It turned out to be a small flying carpet carrying two people, male and female. “Oh, I forgot to say goodbye,” Vinia said ruefully. Then she explained. “I love Ion, and will marry him when we grow up. But we do spend time apart so as not to get on each other’s nerves. He is the Magician of Immunity to All Elixirs, and she is the Sorceress of Sewing. She sewed that magic carpet, for example. They’re both nice people.”

  The carpet landed ahead of them and the girl got off. She was a child of twelve with dark hair through which a white stripe passed. She carried a ball of wool. “We forgot to give you the vac scene,” she said, handing the ball to Vinia.

  Vinia looked at it. “The what scene?”

  “The vac scene. Fortunately Ion has a supply. It will make you immune to the pundemic. You don’t want to get infected, get pundigestion, and start emitting foul puns so that nobody can stand to be near you. That’s too much punishment.”

  “We don’t,” Vinia agreed, mortified. “I never thought of that.”

  “Neither did we. But Benny did. He has a caprine mind, delving into places it shouldn’t. I love it, especially when we are truly private. So we flew to intercept you.”

  “Benny is Hilda’s human-goat half-breed boyfriend,” Ghorgeous clarified for Nolan. “A nice guy, though he has some private billy-goat thoughts.”

  “Which must be what Hilda likes about him,” Aurora said.

  “Nice girls do like naughty boys,” the ghost agreed.

  “Thanks,” Vinia said weakly to Hilda. “Um, how does it work?”

  “It’s a vapor. Get in the ball and pop the vial open and breathe, and it’s done. But there is a side effect, which is why it’s not more widely used.”

  “Side effect?”

  Hilda whispered something in her ear.

  Vinia blushed. Nolan suspected she was getting better at it as she approached maidenhood. “I’ll warn the others.”

  “In due course. Right now you have to take it, because I need to take the ball back. There’s too much good yarn in it to waste.”

  “But—”

  Hilda handed her a vial, then touched the ball. It expanded explosively and became a large sphere with a round opening in the side. “Time for your vac scene,” she called to the others. “Get in the ball.”

  Impressed by the princessly tone of command, Nolan, Apoca, and Gent followed Vinia into the ball, and Ghorgeous joined them. “I dhon’t want to get infected either,” she explained. “Puns are best left to themselves, especially the foul ones. That mheans most of them.”

  The inside of the ball was a surprisingly spacious chamber; they all fit comfortably. Light filtered in through the stretched fabric. This must be another example of the princess’s impressive sewing, Nolan thought. The entrance irised closed.

  Vinia broke open the vial. Vapor spread out. They all breathed it, having no choice, and all except Gent and the baton went into uncontrollable laughter that continued until stifled by coughing fits. Nolan had never heard an ant or nickelpede laughing before. Oh, that must be the side effect! It passed in about a moment and a third but felt like twice as long. Laughing without humor was like vomiting from an empty stomach. Gent was unaffected because he already had pundigestion, and the baton was not a person but an imaginary symbol.

  “That must be the reaction that will be stifled when we encounter the puns,” Aurora said as she recovered her poise.

  “I didn’t know ants laughed.”

  “We don’t. We don’t even breathe. This is a first for me. It must be for Nimbus too.”

  “And for me, as a ghost,” Ghorgeous said. “I prefer spooky laughter. That is potent stuff.”

  “But worth it if it protects us from being like Gent,” Nolan said. Their dialogue was silent, so Gent was not being insulted.

  The iris opened and they stepped out. “You have had the vac scene,” Hilda said.

  “Thank you,” Vinia said as the ball compacted.

  “Just fix the talents,” Hilda said as she returned to the carpet. “I don’t know which is worse, babies conjuring stinky cow pies or friends vomiting laughter.”

  Vinia ran to the carpet to plant a surprisingly mature kiss on her fiancé. Then she returned to resume her identification of the green path as the carpet took off.

  “Prince Ion is lame,” Ghorgeous said. “He must either ride a carpet or get help walking, so he mostly stays put.”

  “There‘s something we weren’t told,” Aurora said. “I distrust that side effect.”

  “A little laughing fit won’t hurt us.”

  “If that’s all it is, why didn’t the whole queendom get vac scened?”

  “Maybe there’s not enough to go around.”