Chapter 8: PLAY

They approached the first house. It was a neat cottage set amidst a yard with clusters of pretty mushrooms, with a little box on a post outside. On the box was neatly printed the words RICHARD C. WHITE.

"What's that?" Gloha asked.

Trent's lips pursed. "We may not be clear of the madness after all," he murmured. "That is a Mundane mailbox. See, the man's name is on it. They commonly use two or three names there."

"They keep men in little boxes in Mundania?" Marrow inquired.

Trent smiled. "No. Only letters, which are delivered each day."

"Delivered?" Gloha asked. "You mean the storks carry letters there?"

"No, there is a somewhat more cumbersome mechanism which varies from place to place and time to time. My concern is not about that, but because of the Mundane nature of it. My madness memories concerned Mundania."

"Do you remember a house like this?"

"No. So perhaps the similarity is mere coincidence."

The door of the house opened and a man emerged. He seemed to be in his mid-forties. "Hello," he called. "Are you folks lost?"

"We hope not," Trent answered. "We have just passed through a Region of Madness, and we hope this is not more of the same. Are you Richard White?"

"Yes. And I understand about the madness. I came through it myself, last year, on the way here. It was an awful experience, yet tinged with longing. I had my house built right at the edge, so I could return through it if I ever decide to. Usually the madness stays within bounds, though it has spread somewhat the past few days." He paused. "But I'm being insensitive. You folk are surely tired and confused after your experience. Come in and relax. Did you pass through the worst of it?"

"Only the fringe," Trent said. "Fortunately. I am Magician Trent, and this is Gloha Goblin-Harpy, and this is Marrow Bones. None of us are hostile folk." They followed Richard into the house.

"I have read of you, Magician Trent," Richard said. "But I thought you had faded out. And, if I may say so, you look remarkably young."

"I have been temporarily youthened for this adventure," Trent explained. "When it is done, I will fade out"

Richard brought out a bowl of oddly thin slices of something. Gloha wasn't sure what they were for. Trent took one, smiling. "I believe these are potato chips, a Mundane delicacy in some regions." He put one to his mouth, and it crackled as he chewed it. "You are recently from Mundania?" he asked Richard.

"Yes, I arrived about a year ago, though of course that may not relate well to Mundane time. The folk of the Black Wave and the Curse Friends helped me build my house. Now I put in septic tanks for them." He smiled at Gloha's blank expression. "Those are big containers I install underground. They take the refuse from the families' privies and turn it into soil for their plants."

"Oh, magic," Gloha said, understanding. "We could use some of those for the harpy dung heaps."

"Perhaps I shall be able to do business with them, when I catch up here," Richard said. "I like making Xanth cleaner and healthier, though it is really much better than Mundania."

Gloha finally got up courage to bite into a potato chip. It crunched for her too. "It's good!" she exclaimed, surprised.

"I am not yet fully acclimatized," Richard said. "I like it in Xanth, and I'm glad to be here, but there were some Mundane things I missed. So I tried to have them duplicated here. These aren't the best potato chips, but my technique is improving."

Marrow was looking at a picture on the wall. "Is that your home?"

Richard laughed. "No, that's my effort to show Jenny Elf's home in the World of Two Moons. I hope to meet her some day. We have something in common, in the way we-" But he broke off, evidently suffering a painful memory.

"You seem to know a lot about Xanth, for a Mundane," Trent remarked. "How did you come here?"

"I always liked Xanth," Richard said. "When things soured at home, I-well, it's a story I'd prefer to leave in the Region of Madness. I'm just glad that I managed to find my way here, instead of getting lost."

"Few Mundanes are able to get here," Trent agreed. He looked around. "We thank you for the food and dialogue. We have to go on about our quest now. Gloha and Marrow are looking for things we hope to find somewhere along this route."

"I understand. Some day perhaps I will travel, hoping to find a good companion." He showed them out.

"How did you get such pretty mushrooms?" Gloha asked, admiring the many clumps.

"I had some Mundane paper money with me when I arrived," Richard explained, "I knew it was useless here, so I buried it in jars for safekeeping, in case I should ever go back to visit my sister. But my hiding place turned out to be no good, because the mushrooms sprouted over each jar."

"Leave them there," Gloha said. "It's Xanth's way of keeping you here."

"It must be," he agreed. He glanced in the direction they were going. "I've never been down that way. I've heard there's a giant there, and I don't want to ran afoul of him."

"Giants aren't necessarily hostile," Trent said. "But we appreciate the warning. We'll be careful."

They walked on, refreshed, waving goodbye to the nice man. They found a convenient path around a small hill. There was a tree house: someone had cut a door and windows into an old beerbarrel tree and made it into a house. There was no longer any smell of beer, so the tree must have drained some time before. It was surrounded by fancy iris flowers. Nearby were assorted fruit trees, and one spreading nut, bolt, and washer tree.

A woman of about thirty-three was just fetching in some edible washers as their party passed. She had harvested those that were in reach, and was trying to get her fingers on one that was just beyond. She was standing on tiptoes, somewhat unsteadily.

"Let me help you," Marrow said, stepping close. She turned and saw him. "Eeeeek!" she screamed, putting a good five e's into it. "Death!"

Gloha hurried forward, understanding the confusion. "No, merely a friendly walking skeleton," she said quickly. "He means you no harm."

The woman took heart. "A sweet little goblin girl," she said. Then her eyes went beyond. "And a young man."

"I'm Gloha," Gloha said. She introduced the others, giving only their first names. "We're on a private quest."

"I'm Janet," the woman said. "Janet Hines. I haven't been here long. I'm sorry I screamed. I have been told there is a giant in the vicinity, so I'm a bit nervous."

Marrow reached up and brought down the washer. He handed it to Janet. "In the realm of bad dreams, where I originated, it was my job to frighten folk," he said. "I apologize for coming upon you so suddenly."

"No, that's all right," Janet said. "I have heard of your kind. I shouldn't have reacted. Thank you for helping."

"How did you come here?" Gloha asked.

"It is a dull story. I wouldn't want to bore you."

"We recently emerged from the Region of Madness," Trent said. "We are relieved to find ourselves among ordinary folk."

"Well, it started when I was fourteen, in Mundania," Janet said. "I got sick. I was a pretty girl, some said, but this wasting disease-"

"You are still a handsome woman," Trent said, accurately enough. Gloha wasn't sure that anyone over the age of twenty could actually be pretty, but he hadn't used that word.

"It took away my ability to move, and blinded me, so that all I could do was listen, and blink my eyes to respond. But my mother read books to me, and wrote letters for me. I even had a nice new his named after me-and I found it growing here, so I knew this was where I belonged, when I left Mundania."

That explained the irises. "But what do you do, most of the time?" Gloha asked.

"I've just been learning how to use my body again. It was a shock when I began to see, and I still don't see very well, but it's a little better each day. I had to get used to all the sights. At first I had to crawl out to pick up fruits and nuts and bolts that dropped from the trees, but later I learned to walk again. I think I'm almost normal now."

"But don't you get lonely, living alone?" Gloha asked, and was sorry the moment she said it, realizing that it wasn't a proper question.

"I do miss my mother, who took care of me all those years," Janet admitted. "But I don't think I can go back. I'm a little afraid to meet any other people. I haven't had the courage to go far from this house I found."

"How long were you ill?" Trent asked. "Nineteen years," she said sadly. "Then you never had an adult life," Gloha said. "No friends, no-" She stopped herself, realizing that she was going wrong again.

"I had friends," Janet said. "They came in and read to me. But I suppose it was rather limited."

"Maybe you should take a walk around the hill," Gloha said. "There's a nice man there you might like to meet. He's from Mundania too."

"Oh? I didn't realize. Perhaps I will." They left Janet and went on to the southeast. But soon they came up against the shore of the lake.

"But are the Curse Fiends directly on the line Crombie pointed?" Trent inquired. "My impression is that it transects the lake, but not the center where the fiends live. Perhaps we can avoid them. They are not known for their friendliness to strangers."

"Oh, pooh!" a voice exclaimed. "I was hoping you wouldn't realize that you didn't have to brace the Curse Fiends. It would have been so much more interesting."

Trent exchanged a three-way glance with Gloha and Marrow: the demoness had just confirmed his suspicion.

"In that case we might as well walk around the lake," Gloha said, relieved. "Which end does the line cross?"

"The south end, I think. So we can walk south around it."

"Curses, foiled again," Metria's voice came. Gloha wondered about that. She was afraid that there was something they were about to encounter that the demoness would find interesting, so Metria was trying to make them think the opposite. But that was only a suspicion, and in any event, they had to circle the lake one way or the other, or make a boat. Walking around seemed less likely to trigger an encounter with the Curse Fiends.

However, they encountered something else: an ant engagement. There seemed to be an ant war on, for an army of combatAnts were laying siege to a giAnt hill. Each ant was huge, and most looked formidable. "I think we had best detour around this," Trent murmured. "It seems that the warnings about the presence of a giant were well taken; we just didn't understand what kind. I could transform those ants that come close, but they could overwhelm us if they charged in from all sides."

An Antenna quivered. The head turned toward them. "That looks like a defendAnt," Marrow remarked. "See the Antagonistic mandibles."

"Let's get out of here," Gloha said. "We don't have an Antidote to getting chomped up."

They retreated. But then they heard the ant's Anthem, carrying to the distAnt wings of the formation. They were summoning their throng for an Anticipated attack. The sound was triumphAnt.

"I think we had better hurry," Marrow said. "They may see us as cliAnts."

"I think we need an inherAnt defense," Trent said. "They are already surrounding us."

Gloha saw that they were. "I'm not conversAnt with their tactics," she said. "What's relevAnt? A roc bird? If you transform me, so I can carry you away-"

"No. They have Antiaircraft artillery." He pointed to where several antis had great long snoots suitable for blowing rocks out with great force. "It is importAnt to select the right creature."

"Then what?" she asked, becoming alarmed.

"An Antelope," he said, reaching toward her. Suddenly she was a huge four-legged creature with big Antlers. Trent and Marrow got on her back.

The ants stopped closing in. Gloha wondered why, because she did not seem to be a really unusual creature. "You are now the Antithesis of the ants," Trent explained. "The equivalAnt of something they can't handle. Just walk on by them."

Gloha, nervously, did so. Soon she saw that the ants gave way before her. Magician Trent had known what type of creature to use.

Only one ant remained close. She saw that it had a clipboard, on whose paper it was making a note. "Merely an accountAnt," Trent said. "Tallying the ones that got away, I suspect."

Good riddance, she thought.

Once they were safely past the ant activity, Trent transformed her back to her natural form. They continued skirting the lake.

A cloud passed. It peered down at them. Then it huffed and puffed, making itself bigger and darker.

"That's Fracto!" Gloha cried. "What ill luck!"

A nebulous mouth formed on the cloud. "Ho ho ho!" it breathed, its breath forming new cloudlets.

"We'd better find a dry place to camp," Trent said. "I think we won't be getting much farther today."

They hurried on, looking for a place. The cloud continued to build, eager to catch them in the open.

"You think you've gotten past the Curse Fiends without trouble," a smoke-filled voice said. "But you haven't. Look there." A dusky arm appeared, pointing.

"Oh, no!" Gloha muttered. "Metria's back."

"But there is something there," Marrow said.

Ahead of them was a huge building. It seemed to be made of stone and brick below, with a dome-shaped roof above. It was right across the general region of their line to the southeast. A prominent sign before it said THUNDER-DOME. But there was no thunder; all was quiet, except for Fracto's rising winds.

"Could there be a winged goblin male in there?" Marrow inquired.

"I doubt it," Trent replied. "As far as I know, there are still no such males. But we shall have to investigate."

"At least maybe it will be dry inside," Gloha said. The cloud was just about ready to rain on them. Then a nagging thought nagged her. "Do you think Fracto's trying to drive us into that building, because he knows there's something nasty in there?"

"Close," Metria said, her top half appearing. "It's Curse Fiend property. They had it built recently, hoping to catch something in it."

The building nevertheless seemed to be deserted. "Halooo!" Trent called. "Anybody home?" There was no reply.

They entered, as the door was open. They passed through a cavelike labyrinth of passages and emerged in a great central chamber that seemed to take up most of the building, extending right up to the dome. There were tiers of benches all around, making the chamber resemble a monstrous covered bowl.

And there, lying curled on the floor, was a giant, asleep. So the rumors had been true after all.

"How did he get in here?" Gloha asked. "He's way too big for the passage we used."

"He must have lifted up the lid and stepped in," Marrow conjectured. "Perhaps he was looking for a dry place to sleep."

"As we are," Trent agreed. "Let's hope he is friendly."

"I suppose we had better find out," Gloha said. "Maybe we should wake him, and if he tries to eat us, you can transform him into something harmless."

"Agreed," Trent said.

They advanced cautiously on the sleeping creature. They stood by his ear. The air near him was foul, and Gloha realized that it was his putrid breath. But maybe they could stay clear of the giant, once they ascertained his nature.

"Giant," she said carefully into the ear. "Please wake up and tell us whether you are friendly to regular folk."

The giant snorted. The air grew even worse. His eyes opened. He turned his head on the ground and peered at them. "Oh, hello," he said, his breath nearly knocking them over both by its physical force and its stench. "I am Graeboe Giant."

"Graeboe!" Gloha gasped. "I met your brother!"

"I don't have a brother," he protested.

"Greatbow," she said, trying her brave little best not to choke impolitely. "He said you were ailing."

"Ah, my cousin! Yes, I have an unconscionable malady, and can no longer maintain my invisibility. I did not realize you were here, or I would not have intruded upon you. My apology. I shall depart, for I know my presence is uncomfortable for normal folk."

"No, we intruded on you," she protested. "You were here first. We should be the ones to go."

"As you wish," he said. "Stand back, please, for I shall now lift my head."

They retreated as the giant lifted his head and propped it with a hand. He was too big to sit up in the building. It was obvious that Graeboe was not unfriendly. But his breath-!

Marrow met them at the edge of the passage out. "I have just checked the exterior," he announced. "It is raining canines and felines, and lightning is striking every available target. I think it will not be convenient to depart these premises for the nonce."

"But there's a foul-smelling giant in there," Gloha said.

"Perhaps we can do something about that," Trent said. "Metria?"

"Why should I help you deal with the stink?" the demoness inquired, appearing. "I enjoy seeing you mortals sweat."

"Because we shall be unable to remain here unless we can breathe," he responded evenly. "So we shall have to go elsewhere, and you will not have the dubious pleasure of snooping on our otherwise surely interesting dialogue with the giant."

"You can't go elsewhere. Its raining bovines and equines."

"Dogs and cats," Gloha said.

"Whatever. You're stuck here."

"Not if I transform Gloha to a creature that likes water, such as a gargoyle."

Metria considered. "Um. You could do that. Very well, what do you want?"

"A sprig of parsley."

She vanished, and reappeared a moment later with the sprig. "I wouldn't let you manage me like this, if you hadn't kissed me," she said.

"Surely true," he agreed, taking the parsley. "I wouldn't have asked you, if I hadn't kissed you."

Metria looked stunned. That, too, Gloha was coming to understand. Trent had that effect on women who came to know him. Even demon women, it seemed.

He walked to Graeboe. "Here is a sprig of parsley. It has the magic property of purifying breath. If you will eat it, it may solve a problem."

"I didn't know that!" Graeboe exclaimed, pleased. He moved a huge hand and tried to take the sprig, but it was much too small.

"I shall stick it under your fingernail," Trent said. He fitted the sprig into the massive crevice. The giant lifted his hand and sucked the sprig from the finger.

The air cleared. "Thank you," Graeboe said. "Even I can smell the difference."

"Well, it wasn't really your fault," Gloha said. "You can't be blamed for your illness."

"It is kind of you to say that," the giant said. Now his breath smelled like new-mown hay. "I really don't like being objectionable, so I have tried to stay away from other creatures."

"Exactly what is your ailment?" Marrow asked.

"I am not entirely clear about that," Graeboe said. "It came on me gradually. I went to ask the Good Magician, but he refused to talk to, me, understandably. He merely sent word that help would come if I remained in this region long enough."

Gloha took note; that was the word Marrow had received.

"What are the symptoms of your malady, apart from the breath?" Trent asked.

"Increasing general weakness and susceptibility to illnesses. I sleep much more than I used to, yet remain tired. I fear I will not be able to remain in Xanth much longer."

"Oh? Where will you go?" Gloha asked before she thought.

The giant smiled sadly. "To fertilize the trees, I think, lovely little lass. At least I shall then be able to do something some good." He glanced around. "I can hear thunder outside. This dome seems to attract it. I think you will not want to go out soon. I have food; do you care to share it?"

"Yes," Gloha said. She liked the giant, now that she could breathe freely near him. Possibly his compliment had something to do with it.

Graeboe brought out a snack from his purse: a gross of pickle pies and a keg of green wine. They accepted tiny portions, which were all they could eat, and settled down on the floor beside him.

It remained light in the dome, though it was dark outside. "Perhaps we could play a game, or something, to pass the time," Gloha suggested politely.

Graeboe brightened. "Do you like angry word puzzles?"

"I love them," Gloha said.

So they drew lines in the dust and alternated filling them in with words, and it was fun. The giant was ill and weak and somewhat homely, but not stupid; he had a good vocabulary and a fair sense of humor. Gloha realized that just because a person was different did not mean he was necessarily unpleasant. Then they settled down to sleep, hoping that the storm would be through by morning. Trent spied a flea and transformed it into a pillow bush, so they had plenty of pillows, including a huge pile of them for the giant's head.

Gloha woke to the sound of a general stirring or rustling, as of an enormous throng of people getting ready to witness some rare event, or maybe just a flock of birds cleaning bugs from a spreading acorn tree. She opened her eyes- and saw that her first impression was the correct one. The tiered benches of the bowl chamber were filling with people.

Startled, she looked at her companions. Magician Trent and the Giant Graeboe were still asleep, but Marrow, who didn't need sleep, was alert. "What's happening?" she whispered to the skeleton.

"The Curse Fiends are assembling," he replied. "Oh, they must be getting ready to put on a play. We must depart before we get in their way."

"Adipose chance," a ball of smoke said.

"What kind of chance, Metria?"

The smoke expanded into the nether portion of an extremely well endowed woman. "Corpulent, obese, fleshy, potbellied, rotund, blubbery-"

"Fat?"

The top half of the figure formed. "Whatever," the face said crossly as the overall figure slimmed down. "They have latched down the dome and magically sealed the premises, so we can't get out."

"They can trap a demon?" Gloha asked, surprised.

"I don't quite understand about that," Metria said, disgruntled. "I've been having weird effects, since associating with you folk." Her eye fell on Trent. "Since the Madness." Gloha got another glimmer. She remembered how intrigued Cynthia had become with the handsome Magician, and had felt the attraction herself. Metria had played the part of the one woman Trent had loved, and it had affected her. Maybe she didn't really want to depart just yet. But of course she wouldn't admit to having anything that could be seriously mistaken for human feeling. So containing magic that ordinarily might not restrain her now had greater force. At least it was a pretext to stay near Trent.

But that was an incidental concern. Gloha addressed the major one. "What do they want of us?"

"I suspect we shall discover that in one and a half moments," Marrow said. "One of them is approaching."

Sure enough, in one and a half moments the man reached them. Trent and Graeboe woke to the sound of his footsteps. Neither spoke, evidently realizing that they needed more information before reacting.

"Who is responsible for this intrusion of our premises?" the man demanded.

Metria huffed into harridan form. "Listen, oinkface-" she started.

Gloha realized that this would never do. "Cumulo Fracto Nimbus," she said quickly, realizing why the nasty cloud had chosen to harass them. "He blew up a storm last night, and we had to hurry to cover. This building seemed to be unoccupied, so we camped here for the night. We'll be glad to get on our way-"

"Chubby chance," he said sourly. "You have intruded on our demesnes, and must pay the penalty."

Gloha felt like huffing into harridan form herself. "Penalty? Just because we came in out of the rain?"

"Perhaps we should exchange introductions," Marrow said diplomatically.

"Certainly. I am Contumelo Curse Friend, Playmaster for the Thunderdome."

"I am Gloha Goblin-Harpy, and these are Marrow Bones, the Demoness Metria, Graeboe Giant, and Magician Trent."

She had thought that the last name would faze the man, but it didn't. Maybe the Curse Fiends were too insular to be aware of who was who in the rest of Xanth. "Well, strangers, you have usurped our stage for a play, disrupting our scheduled event. You must therefore provide us with equal measure before departing the premises."

Gloha looked around, but none of the others seemed inclined to argue this case. They were leaving it to her. Probably Marrow was too polite to argue with anyone, and Trent was biding his time in case he should have to transform someone. "What kind of measure?"

"A play, of course. The people have made the arduous journey across the lake to come to our new theater, and they must be entertained. If you ilk hadn't occupied our stage, preventing our scheduled company from setting up its props-"

"Ilk?" Metria said. She was all too ready to argue, but would probably just get them all into more trouble. "I'll show you ilk, you o'erweening wretch!" She began to huff into a truly awful configuration.

"What kind of wretch?" Contumelo inquired.

The smoky shape paused in mid-huff. "Pompous, insolent, swaggering, presumptuous, haughty, o'erbearing-"

"Arrogant?"

"Whatever," the half shape agreed crossly. "Oh, now look what you've done! I've forgotten what I was huffing into."

"Perhaps a frog," Contumelo suggested, almost smiling.

"Thank you." A huge green frog formed. "Hey, wait half a moment!" the frog exclaimed. "That wasn't it. I have three quarters of a mind to-"

"Really? I would have taken it for half a wit."

The frog seemed about to explode into a mushroom-shaped cloud.

"What kind of play did you have in mind?" Gloha asked quickly.

"Something we just might find useful in our repertoire," Contumelo replied. "Of course we would have to rewrite any abysmal effort that such poor players as you might essay, but after you strut and fret your hour upon the stage you will be heard no more. Sometimes we glean inspiration from the unlikeliest sources." A sneer hovered somewhere in his vicinity without quite getting established.

Even Marrow was beginning to look annoyed, which was an unusual effect considering the bony blankness of his countenance. Graeboe, who had been completely amiable hitherto, was starting to frown. Only Trent continued to look mild-which might be the worst sign of all.

"So if we put on a play for you-something that maybe makes you laugh-then you'll let us go in peace?" Gloha asked, hoping to avert what was threatening to be an ugly scene.

"Your mere attempt will surely make us laugh. What we require is something useful, as I just informed you."

Gloha sent a somewhat disheveled gaze across the others. "Then maybe we should try to do that," she said uncertainly.

Now Trent spoke. "We shall need props and scenery."

"You should have thought of that before you intruded, bumpkin," Contumelo said.

Trent started to gesture toward the man, but Graeboe spoke. "I think some folk are not aware of the impression they make on others. It was some time before I realized why folk were avoiding me, as my illness developed."

The Magician glanced at him and nodded. Gloha relaxed; Contumelo had just been spared a transformation he surely wouldn't have liked. "Perhaps we can provide our own props," Trent said.

"I should hope so," the Curse Fiend said. "We shall give you half an hour to prepare. Then we shall expect you to perform. Of course all five of you must have significant parts; we don't tolerate slackards." He spun neatly about on heel and toe and stalked away.

"Half an hour!" Gloha exclaimed. She would have snorted, but she didn't have the nose for it. "How can they expect us to get a play ready when we have no chance to make up scenery, to write a play, to rehearse-when we've never done anything like this before?"

"They don't," Marrow said. "They expect us to fail, and be their laughingstock."

"Yes, I remember now," Metria said. "They hired the Black Wave to complete this stadium, and they like to lure strangers in and make them perform. Then they punish the strangers when they don't do well enough. It's how they relieve the dullness of their routine lives."

"And Fracto is in on it!" Gloha said, realizing. "Of course."

"How do they punish the failures?" Marrow asked.

"They hit them with one of their massed curses. It so dazes the victims that they can barely wander away, and it may be a long time before they are able to function normally again."

Trent frowned. "I think the Curse Fiends are about due for a reckoning."

"Yet it is no worse than what dragons or goblins do to those they catch," Graeboe pointed out. He glanced at Gloha. "Present company excepted."

Trent nodded again. "Your tolerance becomes you. Yet if we are unable to put on a play that satisfies them, given what I deem to be unfairly short notice. I shall not sit still for a curse. I shall have to take action."

"Such as turning one of them into a sphinx who will then tromp the rest of them to pulp," Metria said enthusiastically.

""Oh, no, that would not be kind," Graeboe protested.

"We must simply avoid the issue by putting on a suitable play."

"I never saw a giant as peaceful as you," the demoness said, not meaning it as a compliment.

"That is because the other giants are invisible; you have seen none of them," he pointed out reasonably enough. "Most of us do not wish to cause small folk any inconvenience. That is why we do not tread on their villages or fields. We wish only to exist in mutual harmony."

The more Gloha learned about the giants, the more respect she had for them. However, there was no time for incidental dialogue. "What kind of play can we do in a hurry? That puts all five of us into significant roles? I have no idea."

"Something simple, I think," Trent said. "Perhaps we should adapt a well-known fable or story. There should be one that provides suitable roles for all of us."

"For a giant?" Graeboe asked, interested. "Jack and the Beanstalk!" Gloha cried. "Except that it's a mean giant."

"Well, perhaps I could portray such a giant, as long as it is only in a play."

"But there's no demoness in that story," Metria protested.

"Then maybe Aladdin and the Magic Lamp," Gloha said. "You could be the genie. Trent could play Aladdin."

"Or the Genie in the Bottle," the demoness agreed with relish. "With a female genie. Every time he uncorks the bottle, she smokes out and kisses him." She formed into smoke with a huge pair of lips.

"But there's no giant in those ones," Graeboe said.

"And no goblin girls in any of them," Gloha added.

"And no walking skeletons," Marrow said.

Trent scratched his head. "Can anyone think of a tale that includes a giant, a demon, a man, a skeleton, and a winged goblin?"

None of them could. "I suppose I could be some other kind of girl," Gloha said. "A fairy, perhaps, or even a human girl, if I pretended my wings were a white cloak."

"Or a princess," Graeboe said. "Many tales have princesses. And the demoness could assume some other form, such as a frog, for the Frog Prince."

"Say, yes," Metria agreed. "Maybe the Frog Princess, who marries the Little Prince." She looked at Trent again.

"But what form can I assume?" Marrow asked somewhat plaintively.

"Death," Graeboe suggested.

"Say, yes," Gloha agreed. "The same role your kind plays in dreams."

"To the Frog Prince?"

"We keep running into that problem," Gloha said. "No single tale works."

"But a medley might," Graeboe said.

"A medley?"

"A mixture of tales," Trent explained. "We can put them together, so as to have all the characters we need."

"But what about the scenery?" Gloha asked. "The costumes and things?"

"We'll just have to play ourselves, as it were," Graeboe said. "I'm dressed as a giant, you're dressed as a girl, Marrow's a skeleton, and Trent is a man. Metria can assume any form. We'd better concentrate on the story line."

"And the scenery," Marrow said. "That will be difficult to make in the small time remaining."

"I can transform local bugs into things like wallflowers and paintbrush flowers," Trent said. "We can make scenes from them."

Contumelo approached. "You have five minutes to curtain call," he said with evident satisfaction.

"We had better get organized," Trent said. "I suggest that we separate into committees. Metria and I can devise scenery, and Gloha and Graeboe can organize the plot."

"But what of me?" Marrow asked.

"You are perhaps our most objective member. You can coordinate the two committees, and make the announcements."

"But they won't pay attention to a skeleton!"

"Yes they will, if you're in costume." Trent spied a bug on the ground, and reached toward it. Suddenly it was hat tree. "Pick a suitable hat and wear it for announcements." Marrow selected a tall stovepipe hat and donned it. Suddenly he looked very official.

Gloha flew up to perch on Graeboe's lifted hand, so she could talk to him conveniently. "We must assemble several tales into one in a hurry," she said. "I hope your imagination is bigger than mine right now."

"My head is larger, at any rate." He considered briefly. "Perhaps if we start with Jack and the Beanstalk, to get the man and giant, and then bring in a captive princess-"

"Yes! He wants to eat her-"

Graeboe winced. "Oh, I hope not. That wouldn't be nice."

"But this is only a play. The giant has to be mean, or it won't be exciting."

"But in the real tale, the giant valued precious things, like a hen to lay golden eggs, and a magic harp-"

"How about a magic harpy?" she asked, laughing. "And the giant doesn't want to kill her, he wants to marry her, but of course she'd rather be eaten, so-"

Marrow approached. "What scenery and props will be needed?"

"A magic bean to grow into a beanstalk," Gloha said. "A land up on a cloud. A castle for the giant-"

"That's enough to start," the skeleton said, and went to the other committee.

In a moment he was back. "Perhaps if I knew the story, I could narrate the interstices."

"Wonderful idea," she agreed. She described what they were working out.

Two more minutes of hectic coordination brought them to curtain time. Trent had transformed bugs to various things: several large wallflowers, a giant bedbug, pillow and blanket bushes, a big box elder tree with red, black, and yellow slats, and assorted other things stored within that box. They were perched around Graeboe's curled body, which actually took up most of the stage. Gloha's confused little cranium was spinning. Could they possibly make this work?

"Are you ready to perform?" Contumelo inquired with grim relish.

Marrow stepped up, donning his tall hat. "Indeed. Please get out of our way, functionary."

Gloha would have laughed at the expression on the Curse Fiend's face, if she hadn't been so nervous about whether their scatterbrained assemblage would work. She retreated to hide in the box elder until her turn came to be onstage. In a round theater like this there really was no way to go offstage, but the box served well enough.

A hush descended across the audience, which now pretty well filled the theater. Gloha was surprised by the number of Curse Fiends there were. Then she saw that a number of faces were black; the Black Wavers were attending too. They looked more friendly.

Marrow Bones stepped to the center of the arena. "Greetings, or should I say, curses to you," he said grandly, doffing his impressive hat for a moment. There was a murmur; Gloha wasn't sure whether it was of approval, mystery, or outrage. "We, the Haphazard Players, are pleased to present The Princess and the Giant."

He turned, making a grand sweep of one bony arm. "Once upon a thyme-" And a thyme plant appeared beside him. Gloha was startled, until she realized that it wasn't real; Metria had assumed the form. She saw with satisfaction that the audience was surprised too.

Marrow waited for the reaction to fade out. Then he resumed. "There was a handsome young man named Jack." Trent walked out from the box and stood in the center of the stage, which was defined by the giant's curled body. He looked exactly as described.

"Jack was poor but honest," Marrow said. "His family had fallen on hard thymes-" Here "Jack" tripped over the thyme plant. There was a squeak from the depths of the audience; someone almost thought the joke was funny, but had managed to stifle the laugh.

"So Jack had to take the family bovine to town to sell for coins to live on," Marrow continued. Suddenly the thyme plant was a holy cow, seemingly none the worse for the huge holes through her body. Metria had changed form again.

Jack took hold of the cow's ear and led her in a circle around the field, which was that portion of the arena outside the giant's body. "Mooooo!" she complained loudly.

"But on the way to town Jack encountered a suspicious character," Marrow continued. He removed his announcer hat, put on a sleazy hat, and stepped up to meet Jack. This time there was a laugh; it was from Contumelo, who just couldn't resist the description of Marrow as suspicious.

"And where are you going, my fine innocent young mark?" the sleaze inquired.

"I am taking our family cow to town to sell for coins so we can eat," Jack replied innocently.

"Ah, I have something better than coins," the sleaze said. "I have this magic bean, which I will sell you for your holy cow, because I like your attitude."

"Gee, that's nice of you," Jack said naively.

The play took them through the exchange, and Jack went home to the box carrying the bean, which had appeared when the cow disappeared. He entered the box. "Mother, dearest, see what a good bargain I have made," he called from the box.

"A magic bean?" Gloha screeched in her best emulation of harpy mode, speaking for the unseen mother. "You %#0*H idiot!" She was rather proud of that word; it wasn't of full harpy cuss-quality, but it was within hailing distance of nasty. She took the bean and threw it back out onto the main stage.

"Jack's mother was not entirely pleased," the narrator said with fine understatement. "She threw the seed out the window, and Jack had to go to bed without his supper. However, it really was a magic bean, and in the night it sprouted and grew somewhat."

The bean sprouted on the stage, and grew rapidly into a giant green vine. That was Metria again, changing her shape. The vine grew up high, becoming as large as a tree, though somewhat more diffuse.

"In fact it grew right up to the clouds," Marrow said. The vine fogged, becoming a cloud that obscured the stage, giant and all. "And in the morning, when Jack saw that, he decided to see what he might find up in that cloud. So he climbed the beanstalk, and emerged on top of the cloud." The cloud onstage cleared in one section, and there was Jack, just standing up, as if he had come up from below. He put up his hand to shade his eyes, as if looking around.

"And there on the cloud was a giant castle," Marrow narrated. More of the cloud thinned, to reveal an impromptu castle with walls made from wallflowers and a main turret formed by the box elder. Most of the structure was perched on Graeboe, as if he were the foundation. It was really fairly impressive, considering.

"So Jack went to the castle to see what he could find," Marrow said. Jack walked to it and pulled open a swinging wallflower to show the interior. "Fortunately the giant was sleeping at the moment." And there was Graeboe's face before him, stretched out across several bedbug beds, snoring hugely.

Jack tiptoed around the sleeping face, and there on a pile of twenty feather quilts on the giant's hand sat Gloha, looking despondent.

"There in the giant castle he found the giant's captive, a princess," the narrator continued. "She was tied to her bed, and not at all happy about it."

"Who are you?" Jack asked.

"I am a captive princess," Gloha replied. "As you can tell by my fancy feather robe." She moved her wings a trifle.

"What's a nice princess like you doing in a place like this?"

"The giant wants to marry me, and of course I would rather be chopped up into little quivering pieces," she replied. "So he has tied me to this fiendishly uncomfortable bed." She gestured at the pile of quilts.

"But those look very soft," Jack protested.

"They are. But under them he put a bean. I might have tolerated half a pea, with an effort, but a whole magic bean was just too much. See, I'm all black-and-blue."

There was a snigger from the audience, because of course Gloha's natural body was goblin dark.

"But I outsmarted him, I think," she continued. "I managed to bounce around enough so that the bean rolled out, and fell to the ground below this cloud. So now I can sleep more comfortably. But of course I still groan every so often, so that the mean giant will think I'm still being tortured."

"So that was the bean I traded my holy cow for!" Jack exclaimed.

"Shhh! You'll wake the giant."

Indeed, the giant's face stirred and snorted. Both Jack and Princess were desperately quiet, and after a moment the snoring resumed.

"I must rescue you from this face, uh, fate," Jack said gallantly. "Let me untie you and take you home with me."

"Oh, you can't untie me," the princess said. "This is a magic cord." She lifted her wrist, showing the cord looped loosely around it. "Only the giant can untie it, and of course he won't, unless I agree to marry him."

"Then how can I rescue you?" Jack asked, perplexed.

"You must get the frog to help you."

"The frog?"

"The frog can fetch out a precious golden bottle that contains the only thing that the giant fears," she explained. "That's why he threw it in the cistern, thinking that nobody would ever find it there. But the frog knows."

Marrow stepped out again. "So Jack went to the rear of the castle," he announced while Jack did that, walking around to Graeboe's rear. "Where the frog lived in a deep cistern."

And there was a huge green frog: Metria in another role. "Croak?" the frog inquired.

"I need a precious golden bottle that lies in the bottom of the cistern," Jack said. "Because it contains the only thing that the giant fears. Can you fetch it out for me?"

"Certainly I can, manface," the frog agreed.

There was a pause. "Well?" Jack asked after a bit.

"Well, what?"

"Will you fetch out the bottle for me?"

"Oh, you asked only whether I could, not whether I would. Certainly I will, peasant man."

There was another pause. "Well?"

"You asked whether I would. You did not say whether you wished this."

Jack began to get impatient. "Listen, frogface-" Then he thought the better of it. "Yes, I wish this."

"That is good to know, mammal creature."

There was a pause. "Well, why don't you?" Jack asked.

"You did not say please."

"Please fetch out the bottle for me."

"What's in it for me, toothmouth?"

"Oh, you mean you want something in return?"

"Do I look like a charity outfit? Of course I want something in return!"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to take me to your leader."

"Huh?"

"You're not the brightest character, are you?" the frog observed.

Jack, evidently somewhat nettled, nevertheless managed to remain mild. "Why do you want to go to my leader? I mean, I should think you'd prefer to remain in your nice chill puddle or something."

"You're a peasant, right? So your leader is a prince or king, right? I need to be kissed by one of those."

"Kissed by a prince? Why?'

"Because I am not an ordinary frog. I am an enchanted princess, doomed to remain a frog until kissed by a prince or king. If you were a prince, I'd have you kiss me. Since you're just a peasant, you're no good to me. But if you take me to your prince, he can kiss me. Then the enchantment will be broken, and I will return to my glorious natural form and can go home to my fabulous kingdom, okay?"

"Oh. I see. Okay, I'll take you with me. But it may be a while before I reach the king's castle."

"I'll wait," the frog said. Then she dived down to the bottom of the cistern and fetched up the golden bottle from where it sat at the edge of the stage.

Jack took it. Then he headed back to the castle.

"Hey, wait for me!" the frog cried. But he was already out of hearing.

He brought the bottle to the princess. "Now what?" he asked her. "I don't see anything in there."

"I don't know what's in it," she said. "Only that whatever it is, is what the giant fears."

There was a thumping at the wall-door. "Croak!"

"What's that?" the princess asked, alarmed.

"Oh, that's just the stupid frog wanting to come in."

"Why does it want to come in?"

"Because I told it I'd take it with me, so it could kiss a prince some day."

"Well, then, you made a deal, and you must honor it," the princess said sternly. "Let the frog in. Besides, it will wake the giant otherwise, with all that thumping." Indeed, one of the giant's eyelids quivered.

So Jack went out and let the frog in. It hopped up on the twenty-quilt bed. "Oh, this is comfy," it said. "But there's a discontinuity. There must have been a pea underneath, not long ago."

"There was a nasty old magic bean," the princess said. "How did you know?"

"I'm a princess. My skin is very sensitive. I felt the ripple left by that erstwhile bean."

"Oh, that explains it. Now what do we do with the bottle?"

"The peasant must take it to where the giant is sleeping, and open it. It contains a bad dream that will frighten him. He fears nothing in the world, but the dream realm is something else."

"So Jack took the bottle to the sleeping giant," the narrator said, as Jack did so. "He opened the bottle, and out poured a menacing vapor."

Indeed, the vapor swirled and thickened, then thinned to reveal-the narrator, in a pointed horror-hat. He did the "Danse Macabre," rattling his bones. "I am Death," the white skull said. "I have come to take you away with me, Giant!"

"Who?" the giant inquired blankly.

"Death. I was locked in that bottle, but now the deadlock has been unlocked and I am free to resume my business. When I take a dryad from her tree I leave only deadwood behind. Now I have come for you. So make yourself ready for your dead end."

"Oooh!" the giant groaned. Then he burst into tears. "Oh, I'm glad my mother the Queen of Giants can't see me now, bless her royal bones! All I wanted to do was make her happy by not marrying below my station, and now I'm going away with Death instead. Oh, woe is me!"

"He's a prince?" the princess and the frog asked together. "So it seems," Jack said. "But don't worry. Death is reducing him to a quivering nonentity, and we shall soon be rid of him."

"Not so fast, Mack," the frog said.

"That's Jack."

"Not so fast, Jack. I want him to kiss me first."

"And I'm sorry we made him cry," the princess said. "I didn't know he was royal. Hey, Prince Giant! Would it make you feel better if I agreed to marry you after all?"

The giant woke. "Oh, yes," he agreed, immediately cheering up.

"But first kiss me," the frog said. "Wait," the princess said. "If he kisses you, and you return to princessly format, he might want to marry you instead of me."

"Are you kidding?" the frog demanded. "I've got a princely boyfriend back home. My father doesn't like him, so he enchanted me to keep me from marrying my boyfriend. He figured my boyfriend would never find me and kiss me back to femininity before I got old an unattractive. Now we'll elope before my father catches on, and it'll be too late for any more enchantment."

"But I wanted to marry the princess," Jack protested.

Both princess and frog burst out laughing. "You? A peasant? Marry a princess? Just what fantasy world do you live in, Mack?" the frog asked.

"Well, I should have something for my trouble," Jack said, out of sorts.

"Oh, take a bag of money and get out of here," the giant said, tossing down a tiny bag that was nevertheless all Jack could carry.

Death doffed his hat, and the narrator donned his hat "And so the giant kissed the frog," he said, as the giant did so, and the frog puffed into an extremely voluptuous princess with a remarkably low décolletage. "And then freed the other princess, and she kissed the giant," as Gloha flew up to perch on Graeboe's lower lip so as to kiss his upper lip. "And they married and lived happily almost ever after. Jack took his bag of gold home to his mother, who was fairly pleased, considering that it wasn't a bigger bag, and so were the village peasant girls, who suddenly discovered qualities in Jack they had somehow overlooked when he was poor. And Death, freed from imprisonment in the bottle, resumed business as usual, as many of you will discover in due course." He bowed to the audience. "We trust you have enjoyed our presentation," he concluded with a lipless grin.

The cynical Curse Fiends tried to retain their aloofness. Then it cracked. One of the members of the Black contingent started applauding, and then a few more. Gloha saw that the first one was Sherlock, whom she had met when riding on Swiftmud with Magician Trent's party. Others around him joined in, and finally some of the Curse Fiends. Not a majority, but a fair minority. She wondered whether Sherlock supported her because he recognized her and Trent, or because her goblin skin was as dark as his, or because he simply liked the play. She hoped it was the last reason.

Contumelo grimaced. "The applause meter said your effort qualifies, barely. We should be able to rewrite your play and make it into something presentable to ignorant children. You are free to go now."

"About time, curseface," the Frog Princess said.

Then Graeboe slowly heaved himself to a hunched sitting position, lifted up the edge of the dome, stood, and stepped out of the building. Gloha, Trent, and Marrow exited the arena in more conventional manner. Metria popped out of sight with a rude noise, leaving only a foul waft of smoke behind to annoy the Curse Fiends.

They saw the giant standing outside. He looked lonely. "What's the matter?" Gloha called to him.

"Well, I don't have anywhere to go," he replied. "Geographically or in life."

"Would you like to come along with us?" Gloha asked before she thought.

"Why, yes," he agreed. "I enjoyed our brief association, and would like to extend it. Perhaps I can be of some further service to you, before I expire."

"Fool!" Metria's voice came from the air beside her. "Your soft girlish human heart is going to get you into trouble sometime."

Gloha wasn't sure how they were going to manage with a sick giant along, but Graeboe was a nice person, so she didn't really regret her impulse. And it was possible that he would be able to help them out in some way, such as if they had to cross a mighty river, chasm, or desert.

Trent and Marrow didn't comment.