"No problem at all," King Roogna said. Dor gave him the vial of zombie-restorative elixir. "I shall cause it to respond to the words "Savior of Xanth.'"
"Uh, thanks," Dor said, embarrassed.
He went up to the ramparts to bid farewell to the remaining centaurs. Cedric was not there, of course, having returned home. But Egor Ogre was present, and Dor shook his huge bony hand, cautiously.
That was it. Dor was no more adept at partings than at greetings. They walked away from the Castle, across the deserted, blasted battlefield-and into a vicious patch of saw grass at the edge. Jumper, more alert than Dor, drew him back from the swipe of the nearest saw just barely in time.
They were back in the jungle. The visible, tangible wilderness, where there was little subtlety about evil. Somehow it seemed like home.
Yet as they sloughed methodically through the forest, avoiding traps, skirting perils, and nullifying hazards in dull routine fashion, Dor found himself disturbed by more than human-related grief. He mulled it over, and finally had it.
"It is you, Jumper," he said. "We are about to return home. But there I am a boy, and you are a tiny spider. We'll never see each other again! And-" He felt the boyish tears emerging. "Oh, Jumper, you're my best friend, you've been by my side through the greatest and awfulest adventure of my life, and-and-"
"I thank you for your concern," the spider chittered. "But we need not separate completely. My home is by the tapestry. There are many fat lazy bugs trying to eat into the fabric, and now I have special reason to keep them from it. Look for me there, and you will surely find me."
"But-but in three months I'll only be an older boy-and you'll be dead!"
"It is my natural span," Jumper assured him. "I will live as much in that time as you do in the next thirty years. I will tell my offspring about you. I am thankful that chance has given me this opportunity to learn about your frame of reference. I would never otherwise have realized that the giant species have intelligence and feelings too. It has been a great and satisfying education for me."
"And for me!" Dor exclaimed. Then, spontaneously, he offered his hand.
The spider solemnly lifted a forefoot and shook Dor's hand.
Chapter 12
Return
"One moment Dor was swinging on spider silk across a minor chasm; the next he was standing on the floor of the Castle Roogna drawing room before the tapestry.
"Is that you, Dor?" a familiar voice inquired.
Dor looked around and spied a tiny, humanoid figure. "Of course it's me, Grundy," he told the golem. "Who else would it be?"
"The Brain Coral, of course. That's who it's been for the past two weeks."
Of course. Quickly Dor readjusted. He was no longer a great-thewed Mundane; he was a small, spindly twelve-year-old boy. His own body. Well, it would grow in due course.
He focused on the tapestry, looking for Jumper. The spider should be where they had been when the spell reverted, in the wilderness-ah, there was a speck. Dor leaned forward and spied the tiny creature, so small he could crush it with the tip of his littlest finger. Not that he ever would do a thing like that! It raised a hairlike foreleg in a wave.
"It says you look strange in your real form," Grundy said. "It says-"
"I need no translation!" Dor snapped. Suddenly his eyes were blinded by tears, whether of joy or grief he was uncertain. "I'll-I'll see you again, Jumper. Soon. Within a few days-a few months of your time-I mean-oh, Jumper!"
"Who cares about a dumb bug?" Grundy asked.
Dor clenched his fist, for an instant tempted to smash the golem into the pulp from which he had been derived. But he controlled himself. How could Grundy know what Jumper meant to Dor? Grundy was of the old order, unenlightened.
There was nothing Dor could do. The spider had his own life to lead, and Dor had his. Their friendship was independent of size or time. But oh, he felt a choke in his heart!
Was this another aspect of becoming a man? Was it worth it?
Yet Dor had friends here, too. He must not allow his experience of the tapestry world to alienate him from his own world. He turned away from the tapestry. "Hello, Grundy. How are things in the real world?"
"Don't ask!" the golem exclaimed. "You know the Brain Coral, who took over your body? Thing was like a child-I mean even childier than you, at times-poking into everything, making faux passes-"
"What?"
"Cultural errors. Like belching Into your soup. That thing really kept me hopping!"
"Sounds like fun," Dor said, smiling. Already he was getting used to this little body. It lacked the strength of the Mundane giant, but it wasn't a bad body. "Listen, I have to talk to that Coral. I owe it a favor."
"No you don't. You owe it a punch in the mouth, if anything. If it has a mouth. All's even-it got the fun of using your body, while you went into tapestry land for a nice vacation."
Some vacation! "I owe it from eight hundred years ago."
"Oh. Well, sure, tell the gnome."
"Who? Oh, the Good Magician Humfrey. I will. Right now I have to go see Jonathan the zombie."
"Oh, yeah. You got the stuff?"
"I got it. I think."
"This will be something! The first restored zombie to go with the first restored ghost! For centuries, she untouchable and he not worth touching. Grisly romance!"
Dor might have snapped something nasty at the golem, but recent experience had lent him discretion. So he changed the subject. "Maybe I'd better check first with King Roog-King Trent. He's the one who put me up to this."
Grundy shrugged. "Just so I don't have to exchange another word with the Coral."
"That's next." Dor couldn't help teasing the golem a little,
"Look, you know what that creature was doing with your body and Irene?"
"Who?" Dor was distracted, thinking about his upcoming interview with the Brain Coral. What kind of favor would he have to repay, after eight hundred years?
"Princess Irene, daughter of the King. Remember her?"
"Well, it has been eight centuries, in a manner of-" Dor did a double take. "What did my body do with Irene?"
'Coral was real curious about the distinction between male and female anatomy. Coral's asexual, or bisexual, or something, see, and-"
"Enough! Do you realize I'm about to see her father?"
"Why do you think I mentioned the matter? I tried to cover for you, but King Trent's pretty savvy and Irene's a snitch. So I'm not sure-"
"When did I-I mean, my body-?"
"Yesterday."
"Then there may still be time. She doesn't speak to her father for days at a time."
"In a case like this she might make an exception."
"She might indeed!" Dor agreed worriedly.
"Ah, what does it matter? The King knows she's a brat."
"It is my own reputation I am thinking of." Dor had been accorded the respect due a grown man, in the tapestry world, and the feeling was now important to him. But it was more than that. Other people had feelings too. He thought of how Vadne had glowed when the Zombie Master complimented her talent-and how Murphy's curse had perverted that into her doom and his. And Millie's. Feelings were important-even those of brats.