do wrong?” she asked plaintively.
“Yes. You flashed me. A proper young woman does not do that.”
“Dawn and Eve do it all the time. It’s a game with them.”
“You’re not the same as Dawn and Eve, are you?”
“No,” she agreed thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know if I could be passionate.”
“Passion stems from the mind more than the body. When—when you wish to be passionate, when the situation is right, your body will more than suffice.”
“Thank you.”
Bryce shook his head. “This interview isn’t going at all the way I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expected to find a snotty spoiled teen brat. I did not.”
“What did you find?”
“A smart, sensible, lovely, occasionally naughty but somewhat innocent girl.”
“And I expected to find a crusty old Mundane in a young body, who might give me good advice. I did.”
Bryce laughed. “So it seems we understand each other.”
“Bryce, I really appreciate your perspective, if I have the word right. It is a valuable gift. You have told me things no other man would, and given me a plan to handle this darned Demon contest I never asked for or wanted. Now I have direction I lacked before. I want to give you something in return.”
“There is no need, Princess.”
“This is not need. It is—desire.”
Her term was not quite appropriate, but he got her meaning. “As you wish, Harmony.”
“What do you need?”
Bryce laughed. “Magician Trent told me to get a sword. I am not at all sure I want to do that.”
“Castle Roogna has an armory with many swords.”
“I would hardly know what to do with a sword,” he protested. “I’m no warrior. What he meant was that I need something to buttress my second sight in case of emergency.”
“Ah yes, you have that.”
How did she know? Princess Dawn must have told her. “Yes. But it may not always be enough, at such time as I get into the adventurous hinterlands.”
“Some of the swords are magical,” she said. “So that a novice can readily wield them.”
“I suppose that would help. But really my reflexes are not of that type. I’m more the cerebral type. Luck of the draw.”
“The what?”
“It’s just a Mundane expression. It derives from mundane card games, where one is dealt or allowed to draw cards to play, and some are better than others. It’s a matter of pure luck what hand a player is dealt. I meant that I have what amounts to a hand of information and skills that apply only randomly to the challenge I face here in Xanth. Some may help me, others won’t.”
“Oh. Then it’s not about drawing lucky pictures?”
“It is not,” he agreed. “Though I suppose here in Xanth, where so many things are literal, it could have been taken that way. Anyway, for me, the pen is mightier than the sword.”
“The pen?”
“A writing instrument. I meant that sometimes what a person writes with a pen is more effective than violence with a sword would be.”
“Yes.” Harmony rummaged in a chest. “Here it is.” She held up a pen and small tablet.
She had misunderstood again. “I meant—”
“Shh. I know what you meant, that time. This is a magic pen. I can’t use it effectively, but maybe you could. How good are you at drawing?”
“Well, I’m no artist, but I did take classes in mechanical drawing in my youth. I did seem to have a talent for that. I could draw an almost perfect circle without using a compass, or make other stylized little figures. Much good it did me; I never used that skill in life.”
“You can use this pen, then,” she said. “Luck of the draw.” She handed it to him, together with the tablet. “Draw something.”
“You want a little picture?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged, and drew a little sword. He showed it to her. “There.”
“Now invoke it.”
“Invoke it?”
“Say the word.”
He humored her. “Invoke.”
The sketch slid off the page. The sword bounced on the floor, expanding. In a
“Yes. You flashed me. A proper young woman does not do that.”
“Dawn and Eve do it all the time. It’s a game with them.”
“You’re not the same as Dawn and Eve, are you?”
“No,” she agreed thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know if I could be passionate.”
“Passion stems from the mind more than the body. When—when you wish to be passionate, when the situation is right, your body will more than suffice.”
“Thank you.”
Bryce shook his head. “This interview isn’t going at all the way I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expected to find a snotty spoiled teen brat. I did not.”
“What did you find?”
“A smart, sensible, lovely, occasionally naughty but somewhat innocent girl.”
“And I expected to find a crusty old Mundane in a young body, who might give me good advice. I did.”
Bryce laughed. “So it seems we understand each other.”
“Bryce, I really appreciate your perspective, if I have the word right. It is a valuable gift. You have told me things no other man would, and given me a plan to handle this darned Demon contest I never asked for or wanted. Now I have direction I lacked before. I want to give you something in return.”
“There is no need, Princess.”
“This is not need. It is—desire.”
Her term was not quite appropriate, but he got her meaning. “As you wish, Harmony.”
“What do you need?”
Bryce laughed. “Magician Trent told me to get a sword. I am not at all sure I want to do that.”
“Castle Roogna has an armory with many swords.”
“I would hardly know what to do with a sword,” he protested. “I’m no warrior. What he meant was that I need something to buttress my second sight in case of emergency.”
“Ah yes, you have that.”
How did she know? Princess Dawn must have told her. “Yes. But it may not always be enough, at such time as I get into the adventurous hinterlands.”
“Some of the swords are magical,” she said. “So that a novice can readily wield them.”
“I suppose that would help. But really my reflexes are not of that type. I’m more the cerebral type. Luck of the draw.”
“The what?”
“It’s just a Mundane expression. It derives from mundane card games, where one is dealt or allowed to draw cards to play, and some are better than others. It’s a matter of pure luck what hand a player is dealt. I meant that I have what amounts to a hand of information and skills that apply only randomly to the challenge I face here in Xanth. Some may help me, others won’t.”
“Oh. Then it’s not about drawing lucky pictures?”
“It is not,” he agreed. “Though I suppose here in Xanth, where so many things are literal, it could have been taken that way. Anyway, for me, the pen is mightier than the sword.”
“The pen?”
“A writing instrument. I meant that sometimes what a person writes with a pen is more effective than violence with a sword would be.”
“Yes.” Harmony rummaged in a chest. “Here it is.” She held up a pen and small tablet.
She had misunderstood again. “I meant—”
“Shh. I know what you meant, that time. This is a magic pen. I can’t use it effectively, but maybe you could. How good are you at drawing?”
“Well, I’m no artist, but I did take classes in mechanical drawing in my youth. I did seem to have a talent for that. I could draw an almost perfect circle without using a compass, or make other stylized little figures. Much good it did me; I never used that skill in life.”
“You can use this pen, then,” she said. “Luck of the draw.” She handed it to him, together with the tablet. “Draw something.”
“You want a little picture?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged, and drew a little sword. He showed it to her. “There.”
“Now invoke it.”
“Invoke it?”
“Say the word.”
He humored her. “Invoke.”
The sketch slid off the page. The sword bounced on the floor, expanding. In a
Similar Books
