Hesitantly, the castle personnel came forward. “They’re afraid of the images,” Grundy said.
The Queen nodded. Abruptly the monsters vanished, and the hall became a region of pastel lighting and gentle music-at least within the rotating aisle. Heartened, the people stepped up more boldly. “Is it really you, Your Majesty Good Omen?” an old retainer asked. “We thought you dead, and when the monsters came-“
“Hold!” a voice called from the archway nearest the castle’s main entrance.
All turned. There stood King Oary, just within the aisle. Dor realized the man must have ridden to Castle Ocna by another route, avoiding the path with the bridge out. Oary had figured out where Dor’s party was heading, had known it meant trouble, and hastened to deal with the situation before it got out of control. Oary had cunning and courage.
“There is the usurper!” King Omen cried. “Take him captive!”
But Oary was backed by another contingent of Avar mercenaries, brought with him from the other castle. The ordinary servitors could not readily approach him. He stood just at the fringe of the magic aisle, so that his words were translated; he had ascertained its width.
He could step out of it at any moment.
“Fools!” Oary cried, his voice resounding throughout the hall. “You are being deluded by illusion. Along to me and destroy these alien intruders.”
“Alien intruders!” King Omen cried, outraged. The stars exploded around him, and gloriously indignant music swelled in the background. “You, who drugged me and threw me into the dungeon and usurped my throne-you dare call me this?”
The people of the castle hesitated, looking from one King to another, uncertain where their loyalty should lie. Each King was imposing; Oary had taken time to garb himself in full regalia, his royal cloak, crown, and sword rendering his fat body elegant. King Omen was enhanced by Queen Iris’ magic to similar splendor. It was obviously hard for the ordinary people to choose between them, on the basis of appearance.
“I call you nothing,” Oary roared, with the sincerity of conviction that only a total scoundrel could generate. “You do not even exist. You died at the hands of Khazar assassins. You-“
The stars around Omen became blinding, and now they hissed, sputtered, and roared with the sound of the firmament being torn asunder. The noise drowned out Oary’s words.
“Nay, let the villain speak,” King Omen said. “It was ever our way to let each person present his case.”
“He’ll destroy you,” Queen Iris exclaimed. “I don’t trust him. Don’t give him a chance.”
“It is Omen’s choice,” King Trent said gently.
With that, the illusion stopped. Not in the slightest way did Queen Iris ever oppose her will to King Trent’s-at least in public. There was only the Mundane court, silent and drab, with its huddled servants facing the knot of Avars.
“You are no more than an illusion,” Oary continued boldly, grasping his opportunity. “We have seen how the aliens can fashion monsters and voices from nothing; who doubts they can fashion the likeness of our revered former King?”
Queen Iris looked pained. “Master stroke!” she breathed. “I knew we shouldn’t have let that cockatrice talk!”
Indeed, the castle personnel were swayed. They stared at King Omen as if trying to fathom the illusion. The very facility of Queen Iris’ illusions now worked against King Omen. Who could tell reality from image?
“If King Omen somehow returned from the dead,” King Oary continued, “I would be the first to welcome him home. But woe betide us all if we proffer loyalty to a false image!”
King Omen stood stunned by the very audacity of Oary’s ploy. In their contest of words, the usurper had plainly scored a critical point.
“Destroy the impersonator!” Oary cried, seizing the moment. The people started toward King Omen.
Now King Omen found his voice. “How can you destroy an illusion?” he demanded. “If I am but a construct of air, I will laugh at your efforts.”
The people paused, confused again. But once more Oary rushed into the gap. “Of course there’s a man there! He merely looks like King Omen. He’s an imposter, sent here to incite you to rebellion against your real King. Then the ogre can rule in my stead.”
The people shuddered. They did not want to be ruled by an ogre.
“Imposter?” King Omen exclaimed. “Dor, lend me your sword!” For in the confusion Dor had recovered his sword, while King Omen had lost his.
“That will settle nothing,” King Trent said. “The better swordsman is not necessarily the rightful King.”
“Oh, yes, he is!” Omen cried. “Only the royalty of Onesti are trained to fine expertise with the sword. No peasant imposter could match Oary. But I am a better swordsman than the usurper, so can prove myself no imposter.”
“Not so,” Oary protested. “Well I know that is an enchanted sword your henchman has given you. No one can beat that, for it makes any duffer skilled.”
The man had learned a lot in a hurry! It had never occurred to Dor that King Oary would be so agile in debate. Evidently his head was not filled with pudding.
Omen glanced at the sword, startled. “Dor did not evince any particular skill with it,” he said with unconscious disparagement of Dor’s technique.
“It is nevertheless true,” King Trent said. “Dor was outside the magic aisle when he used it.”
“That’s right,” Dor agreed reluctantly. “In the aisle, with that sword, anyone could beat anyone. Also, the Queen’s illusion could make King Trent look like you, King Omen-and he is probably a better swordsman than you are.” Dor wondered just after he said it whether he had made that comparison because he smarted from Omen’s disparagement of his own skill. Yet King Trent was the finest swordsman in Xanth, so his point was valid.
“You fools!” Queen Iris expostulated. “Victory in your grasp, and you squander it away on technicalities!”
“It’s a matter of honesty,” Dor said. “O N E S T I.”
King Omen laughed, able to grasp the spelling pun within the centaur’s range. “Yes, I understand. Well, I will fight Oary outside the magic aisle.”
“Where your wound will weaken you, and you will have the disadvantage of using a straight sword when you are trained to a curved one,” Queen his said. “If those aren’t enough, the imposter’s Avars will put an arrow in your back. Don’t be even more of a fool than you need to be. Oary’s trying to maneuver you into a position where his treachery can prevail. I tell you, I know the type.”
Dor was silent. The Queen knew the type because she was the type. That made her a good adviser in a situation like this.
“But how can I prove my identity?” King Omen asked somewhat plaintively.
“Let the castle personnel come to you and touch you and talk with you,” King Trent suggested. “Surely many of them know you well. They will be able to tell whether you are an imposter.”
Oary tried to protest, but the suggestion made too much sense to the castle personnel. King Trent’s ability to maneuver had foiled Oary’s stratagems. Non-Avar guards appeared, reaching for their weapons, and they were more numerous than the Avars. It seemed that news of this confrontation had spread, and the true Onesti loyalists were converging.
Seeing himself losing position, Oary grudgingly agreed. “I will join the line myself!” he declared. “After all, I should be the first to welcome King Omen back, should he actually return, since it is in his stead I hold the throne of Onesti.”
Queen Iris scowled, but King Trent gestured her to silence. It was as if this were a game of moves and countermoves, with limiting rules. Oary was now going along with King Trent’s move, and had to be accommodated until he made an open break. Dor noted the process; at such time as he himself had to be King for keeps, this might guide him.
“Come, King,” King Trent said, taking Omen by the arm. “Let us all set aside our weapons and form a receiving line.” Gently he took the magic sword and passed it over to Queen Iris, who set it carefully on the floor.
Oary had to divest himself of his own weapon, honoring this new move. His Avars grumbled but stayed back. Smash the Ogre moved nearer them, retaining his post. This encouraged them to keep the peace.
The line formed, the palace personnel coming eagerly forward to verify the person of King Omen. The first
