'But as you reminded me, it's a costume party. The Queen is cloaking every attendee in a disguise of her choosing. So no one will see-'
'You utter moronic nincompoop!' she bawled, and he had heard something crash.
Now she was throwing things, in a genuine temper tantrum. 'How can I go to a party in any guise- when I'm nine months pregnant?'
And that was what was really bothering her. Not her normal smart-ugly phase, that she had lived with all her life, but the enormous discomfort and restriction of her pregnancy. Bink had precipitated that condition during her lovely-stupid phase, only to learn when she got smarter that she had not wanted such a commitment at this time. She feared her baby would be like her-or like him. She had wanted to find some spell to ensure that the child would be positively talented, or at least normal, and now it was up to blind chance. She had accepted the situation with extremely poor grace, and had not forgiven him. The smarter she got, and the more pregnant she got, the more intense her ire became.
Well, soon she would be over the hump, and getting prettier-just in time for the baby. It was due in a week or so. Maybe the baby would be normal, perhaps even strongly talented, and Chameleon's fears would be laid to rest. Then she would stop taking it out on him.
If, however, the baby were abnormal?but best not even think of that. 'Sorry, I forgot,' he mumbled.
'You forgot!' The irony in her tone cut through his sensitivities like a magic sword through the cheese of the cottage. 'Imbecile! You'd like to forget, wouldn't you! Why didn't you think of that last year when you-'
'I have to go, Chameleon,' he muttered, hastily retreating out the door. 'The Queen gets upset when people are tardy.' In fact it seemed to be the nature of women to get upset at men, and to throw tantrums. That was one of the things that distinguished them from nymphs, who looked like women but were always amenable to the idle whims of men. He supposed he should count himself lucky that his wife did not have a dangerous talent, like setting fire to people or generating thunderstorms.
'Why does the Queen have to throw her ridiculous pointless dull party now?' Chameleon demanded. 'Right when she knows I can't attend?'
Ah, the logic of women! Why bother to try to understand it. All the intelligence in the Land of Xanth Could not make sense of the senseless, Bink closed the door behind him.
Actually, Chameleon's question had been rhetorical. They both knew the answer. Queen Iris took every Opportunity to flaunt her status, and this was the first anniversary of that status. Theoretically the ball was to honor of the King, but actually King Trent cared little for theatrics and would probably skip the festivities. The party was really for the Queen-and though she could not compel the King to attend, woe betide the lesser functionary who played hooky tonight! Bink was such a functionary. And why was this so, he asked himself as he trod glumly on. He was supposed to be an important person, title Royal Researcher of Xanth, whose duty it was to probe the mysteries of magic and report directly to the King. But with Chameleon's pregnancy, and the necessary organization of his homestead, Bink had not gotten around to any real research. For that he had only himself to blame, really. He should indeed have considered the consequence of impregnating his wife. At the time, fatherhood had been the last thing on his mind. But Chameleon-lovely was a figure to cloud man's mind and excite his-never mind!
Ah, nostalgia! Back when love was new, carefree, uncomplicated, without responsibility! Chameleon-lovely was very like a nymph-
No, that was a false feeling. His life before he met Chameleon had not been all that simple, and he had encountered her three times before he recognized her. He had feared he had no magic talent-
He shimmered-and suddenly his appearance changed. The Queen's costume had arrived. Bink was same person, mentally and physically, but now he looked like a centaur. The Queen's illusion, so he'd play the game she had devised, in her infinite acuity to generate minor mischief. Each person had to guess the identities of as many others as possible while making his way to the palace ballroom, and there was a prize for the one who guessed the most correctly.
In addition, she had set up a mock-maze-hedge around Castle Roogna. Even if he did not play the people-guessing game, he would be forced to thread his way through the giant puzzle. Damn the Queen!
But he had to go through with it, as did everyone else. The King wisely did not interfere with household matters, and gave the Queen considerable play on her tether. With resignation Bink entered the maze and began the laborious chore of threading his way through the network of false paths toward the castle.
Most of the hedge was illusion, but enough of it was anchored in reality to make it safest simply to honor the maze, rather than barging through. The Queen would have her fun, especially on this important First Anniversary of the King's coronation. She could get uglier than Chameleon when not humored.
Bink whipped around a corner-and almost collided with a zombie. The thing's wormy face dripped earth and goo, and the great square eye-sockets were windows of putrefaction. The smell was appalling.
Morbidly fascinated, Bink stared into those eyes. Far within their depths there seemed to be a faint illumination, as of moonlight on a haunted plain or glow-fungus feeding on the corpse's rotting brain. It was as if he could see through twin tunnels into the very source of its foul animation, and perhaps to the root of all the magic of Xanth. Yet it was a nightmare, for the zombie was one of the living dead, a horror that should be quickly buried and forgotten. Why had this one ripped free of its unquiet grave? The zombies normally roused themselves only in defense of Castle Roogna, and they had been passive since King Trent took over.
The zombie stepped toward him, opening its fossil mouth. 'Vvooomm,' it said, laboring to make the putrid gas that was its only breath form a word.
Bink backed away, sickened. He feared little in the Land of Xanth, for his physical prowess and magic talent made him one of the most subtly formidable people in the kingdom. But the peculiar discomfort and disgust entailed by dealing with a zombie unnerved him. He spun about and ran down a side avenue, leaving the undead thing behind. With its decayed articulation of bones and moldy flesh it could not match his speed, and did not even try.
Suddenly a gleaming sword rose up before him. Bink halted, amazed by this second apparition. He saw no person, no connections, just the weapon. What was the purpose of this illusion?
Oh-it must be another cute little trick of the Queen's. She liked to make her parties exciting and challenging. All he had to do was walk through the sword, calling the bluff of this ad hoc interference.
