at his shirt. Dor retaliated, his anger mitigated by his intrigue with the flashes of her that showed between splashes. In a moment they were both thoroughly bare and laughing. It was as if they had done in anger something they had not dared to do by agreement, but had nevertheless wanted to do.
At this point Cherie Centaur trotted up. She had the forepart of a remarkably full-figured woman, and the rear-part of a beautiful horse. It was said that Mundania was the land of beautiful women and fast horses, or maybe vice versa on the adjectives; Xanth was the land where the two were one. Cherie’s brown human hair trailed back to rest against her brown equine coat, with her lovely tail matching. She wore no clothing, as centaurs did not believe in such affectations, and she was old, despite her appearance, of Dor’s father’s generation. Such things made her far less interesting than Irene.
“About this paper, Dor-“ Cherie began.
Dar and Irene froze in place, both suddenly conscious of their condition. They were naked, half embraced in the water. Weedles was idly playing with fragments of their clothing. This was definitely not proper behavior, and was bound to be misunderstood.
But Cherie was intent on the paper. She shook her head, so that her hair fell down along her breasts-a mannerism that indicated something serious. “If you can interrupt your sexplay a moment,” she said, “I would like to review the spelling in this essay.” Centaurs did not really care what human beings did with each other in the water; to them, such interaction was natural. But If Cherie reported it to the Queen…
”Uh, well-“ Dor said, wishing he could sink under the water.
“But before I go into detailed analysis, let’s obtain another opinion.”
Cherie held the paper down so Irene could see it.
Irene was fully as embarrassed by her condition as Dor was about his. She exhaled to decrease her buoyancy and lower herself in the water, but in a moment she was gasping and had to breathe again-which caused her to rise once more, especially since her most prominent attributes tended to float anyway. But as her eyes scanned the paper, her mood changed. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “What a disaster!” she chortled. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Dor!” she tittered. “Oh, this is the worst that ever was!” she cried gleefully.
“What’s so funny?” the water asked, and its curiosity was echoed by the rocks, sand, and other inanimate things within range of Dor’s talent.
Cherie disapproved of magic in centaurs-she was of the old-fashioned, conservative school that considered magic obscene in the civilized species of Xanth-but appreciated its uses in human beings.
“I will read the essay to you, attempting to present the words as they are spelled,” she said. She did-and somehow the new meanings came through even though the actual pronunciation of the words had not changed. Dor quailed; it was even worse than he had feared.
TBB LAND OF XANTH buy door Eye live inn the Land of Xanth, witch is disstinked from Mundania inn that their is magic inn Xanth and nun inn Mundania. Every won inn Xanth has his own magic talent; know to are the same. Sum khan conjure things, and others khan make a whole ore illusions ore khan sore threw the heir. Butt inn Mundania know won does magic, sew its very dull. They’re are knot any dragons their. Instead their are bare and hoarse and a grate many other monsters. Hour ruler is King Trent, whoo has rained four seventeen years. He transforms people two other creatures. Know won gets chaste hear; oui fair inn piece. My tail is dun.
By the end of it Irene was in tears from helpless laughter, the sea cow was bellowing bovine mirth, the water, beach, and stones were chortling, the blackjack oaks were zapping each other on the branches, and the moat-monsters were guffawing. Even Cherie Centaur was barely controlling a rebellious smirk. Dor was the only one who was unable to appreciate the excruciatingly funny nature of it; he wished he could tunnel through the bottom of the earth. “O doesn’t that beet awl!” Irene gasped. “Lets go two Mundania and sea a hoarse bare ore whatever!” And the creatures and landscape relapsed into a cacophony of fresh laughter. The stones themselves were squeezing out helpless tears of hilarity.
Cherie controlled her levity enough to form a proper frown. “Now I think you had better report to the King, Dor.”
Oh, no! How much trouble could he get into in one afternoon?
He’d be lucky if King Trent didn’t transform him into a slug and drop him back in the moat. As if flunking his essay wasn’t bad enough, getting caught naked with the King’s daughter Dor wrapped his tatters of clothing about his midsection and scrambled out of the water. He would simply have to go and take his medicine.
He stopped off at home to get quickly into fresh clothing. He hoped his mother would be elsewhere, but she was cleaning house. Fortunately, she was in her nymph state, looking like a lovely doll, though in fact she was in the vicinity of forty. There was no one prettier than Chameleon when she was up, and no one uglier when she was down. But her intelligence varied inversely, so right now she was quite stupid. Thus she lacked the wit to inquire why he was wearing his clothing tied about his middle, sopping wet, while the objects in his path sniggered. But she was sensitive to the water. “Don’t drip on the floor, dear,” she warned.
“I’ll be dry in a moment,” he called reassuringly. “I was swimming with Irene.”
“That’s nice,” she said.
Soon he was on his way to the King, who always interviewed him in the library. Dor’s heart was beating as he hurried up the stairs. Cherie Centaur must have shown King Trent the paper before she came for Dor; maybe the King didn’t know about the disaster in the moat.
King Trent was awaiting him. The King was a solid, graying, handsome man nearing sixty. When he died, Dor would probably assume the crown of Xanth. Some how he was not eager for the post.
“Hello, Dor,” the King said, shaking his hand warmly, as he always did. “You look fresh and clean today.”
Because of the episode in the moat. That was one way to take a bath! Was the King teasing him? No, that was not Trent’s way. “Yes, sir,” Dor said uncomfortably.
“I have serious news for you.”
Dor fidgeted. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
Trent smiled. “Oh, it has nothing to do with that essay. The truth is, I was none too apt in spelling in my own youth. That sort of thing is mastered in time.” His face turned grave, and Dor quailed, knowing it had to be the other thing that perturbed the King.
Dor considered offering an explanation, but realized it would sound too much like an excuse. Kings and potential lungs, he understood, did not excuse themselves; it was bad for the image. So he waited in dreading silence.
“Please, Dor, be at ease,” the King said. “This is important.”
“It was an accident!” Dor blurted, his guilt overriding his resolve. It was so difficult to be Kingly!
“Are you by chance referring to that fall into the moat?”
Confirmation was as bad as suspicion! “Yes, sir.” Dor realized that anything more he said could only put the blame on Irene, and that wouldn’t be wise.
“Funniest splash I’ve seen in years!” King Trent said, smiling gravely. “I saw it all from the embrasure. She pulled you in, of course, and then tore into your clothes. This is ever the way of the distaff.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Dor, I trust you. You tend to come to grief in minor particulars, but you are generally sound in the major ones. And I have to admit my daughter is a provocative brat at times. But mainly, it is good to get into mischief while you’re still young enough to profit from the experience. Once you are King, you are unlikely to have that luxury.”
“Then that’s not why you summoned me?” Dor asked, relieved.
“If I had the time and privacy, I would be splashing in that moat, too.” Then the King’s smile faded as he turned to business. “Dor, the Queen and I are making an official trip to Mundania. The excursion is scheduled to last one week. We have to go through a black body of water, up a great river, up to a beleaguered Kingdom in the mountains surrounded by hostile A’s, B’s, and IV’s. Normal trade has been largely cut off; they can’t get out-or so my scout informs me. They have sent a message of welcome for our offer of trade.. But the details remain obscure; I will have to work them out personally. I am the only one in authority here who has had sufficient experience in Mundania to cope. It is a small beginning, a cautious one-but if we establish a limited, viable, continuing trade with a section of Mundania, it will prove well worthwhile, if only for the experience. So we’re investing this time now, while there is no crisis in Xanth. You will have to be King in that period of my absence, and rain-ah, reign over Xanth.”
