“You heard it. Awful noise.”
So a gride was an awful noise. Dor’s vocabulary was expanding rapidly today! “That was supposed to be a bride and groom,” Dor said. “Get back where you belong.”
“Aw. I thought I was going to get married.” But the broom flew back to the pocket.
Now Millie spoke. “Lacuna! she said.
One of the children jumped. It was the little girl, Millie’s daughter.
“Did you change the print?” Millie demanded.
Now Dor caught on. The child’s talent-changing printed text! No wonder the service was fouled up!
The Zombie Master grimaced. “Kids will be kids,” he said dourly. “We should have used zombies to carry the train, but Millie wouldn’t have it. Let’s try it again.”
Zombies to attend the bride! Dor had to agree with Millie, privately; the stench and rot of the grave did not belong in a ceremony like this.
“Lacuna, put the text back the way it was,” Millie said severely.
“Aw,” the child said, exactly the way the whisk broom had.
Dor lifted the book. But now there was an eye in the middle of the page. It winked at him. “What now?” he asked.
“Eh?” the book asked. An ear sprouted beside the eye.
“Hiatus!” Millie snapped, and the little boy jumped. “Stop that right now!”
“Aw.” But the eye and ear shrank and disappeared, leaving the book clear. Now Dor knew the nature and talent of the other twin.
He read the text carefully before reading it aloud. It was titled A Manual of Simple Burial. He frowned at Lacuna, and the print reverted to the proper text: A Manual of Sample Wedding Services.
This time he got most of the way through the service without disruption, ignoring ears and noses that sprouted from unlikely surfaces.
At one point an entire face appeared on the sun-ball, but no one else was looking at it, so there was no disturbance.
“Do you, Good Magician Humfrey,” he concluded, “take this luscious, faceless female Gorgon to be your-“ He hesitated, for the text now read ball and chain. Some interpolation was necessary. “Your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to squeeze till she-uh, in health and sickness, for the few measly years you hang on before you croak-uh, until you both become rotten zombies-uh, until death do you part?” He was losing track of the real text.
The Good Magician considered. “Well, there are positive and negative aspects-“
The Zombie Master elbowed him. “Stick to the format,” he muttered.
Humfrey looked rebellious, but finally got it out. “I suppose so.”
Dor turned to the Gorgon. “And do you, you petrifying creature, take this gnarled old gnome-uh-“ The mischievous text had caught him again. A monster in the audience guffawed. “Take Good Magician Humfrey-“
“I do!” she said.
Dor checked his text. Close enough, he decided. “Uh, the manacles-“
Oh, no!
Gravely the Zombie Master brought forth the ring. An eye opened on its edge. The Zombie Master frowned at Hiatus, and the eye disappeared. He gave the ring to Humfrey.
The Gorgon lifted her fair hand. A snakelet hissed. “Hey, I don’t want to go on that finger!” the ring protested. “It’s dangerous!”
“Would you rather be fed to the zombie sea serpent?” Dor snapped at it.
The ring was silent. Humfrey fumbled it onto the Gorgon’s finger.
Naturally he got the wrong finger, but she corrected him gently.
Dor returned to the manual. “I now pronounce you gnome and monst-uh, by the authority vested in me as King of Thieves-uh, of Xanth, I now pronounce you Magician and Wife.” Feeling weak with relief at having gotten this far through despite the treacherous text, Dor read the final words. “You may now miss the gride.” There was the awful banshee noise.
“Uh, goose the tide.” There was a sloppy swish, as of water reacting to an indignity. “Uh-“
The Gorgon took hold of Humfrey, threw back her veil, and kissed him soundly. There was applause from the audience, and a mournful hoot from the distance. The sea monster was signaling its sorrow over the Good Magician’s loss of innocence.
Millie was furious. “When I catch you, Hiatus and Lacuna-“ But the little imps were already beating a retreat.
The wedding party adjourned to the reception area, where refreshments were served. There was a scream. Millie looked and paled, for a moment resembling her ghostly state. “Jonathan! You didn’t!”
“Well, somebody had to serve the cake and punch,” the Zombie Master said defensively. “Everyone else was busy, and we couldn’t ask the guests.”
Dor peered. Sure enough, zombies in tuxedos and formal gowns were serving the delicacies. Gobbets of rot were mixing with the cake, and yellowish drool was dripping in the punch. The appetite of the guests seemed to be diminishing.
The assembled monsters, noting that Humfrey had not been turned to stone despite being petrified, were now eager to kiss the bride. They were in no hurry to raid the refreshments. A long line formed.
Millie caught Dor’s elbow. “That was very good, Your Majesty. I understand that my husband is to substitute for you during your journey to Centaur Isle.”
“He is?” But immediately the beauty and simplicity of it came clear. “He’s a Magician! He would do just fine! But I know he doesn’t like to indulge in politics.”
“Well, since we are going there for a visit anyway, to see the zombies and ghosts, it’s not really political.”
Dor realized that Millie had really helped him out. Only she could have persuaded the Zombie Master to take the office of King even temporarily. “Uh, thanks. I think the ghosts will like the twins.”
She smiled. “’The walls will have ears.”
That was Hi’s talent. “They sure will!”
“Let’s go join the monsters,” she said, taking his arm. Her touch still sent a rippling thrill through him, perhaps not just because of her magic talent. “How is Irene? I understand she will one day do with you what we women have always done with Magicians.”
“Did it ever occur to any of you scheming conspirators that I might have other plans?” Dor asked, nettled despite the effect she had on him. Perhaps he was reacting in order to counter his illicit liking for her. She certainly didn’t seem like eight hundred years old!
“No, that never occurred to any of us,” she said. “Do you think you have a chance to escape?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “But first we have to deal with this mysterious Magician of Centaur Isle. And I hope King Trent comes back soon.”
“I hope so, too,” Millie said. “And Queen Iris. She was the one who helped bring me back to life. She and your father. I’m forever grateful to them. And to you, too, Dor, for returning Jonathan to me.”
She always referred to the Zombie Master by his given name. “I was glad to do it,” Dor said.
Then a mishmash of creatures closed in on them, and Dor gave himself up to socializing, perforce. Everyone had a word for the King. Dor wasn’t good at this; in fact, he felt almost as awkward as Good Magician Humfrey looked. What was it really like, getting married?
“You’ll find out!” the book he still carried said, chuckling evilly.
They had surveyed prospective routes and decided to travel down the coast of Xanth. Dor’s father Bink had once traveled into the south center region, down to the great interior Lake Ogre-Chobee, where the curse-fiends lived, and he recommended against that route. Dragons, chasms, nickelpedes, and other horrors abounded, and there was a massive growth of brambles that made passing difficult, as well as a region of magic-dust that could be hazardous to one’s mental health.
On the other hand, the open sea was little better. There the huge sea monsters ruled, preying on everything available. If dragons ruled the wilderness land, serpents ruled the deep water. Where the magic ambience of Xanth faded, the Mundane monsters commenced, and these were worse yet. Dor knew them only through his inattentive
