Then Irene focused her stare on him full-force, daring him to attempt to balk her; she was extremely pretty in her challenge, and Dor knew their course was set. She intended to rescue her father, no matter what.
They sailed the two rafts back to Centaur Isle that night. In the process they discovered that Amolde’s ambience of magic extended farthest toward the front, perhaps fifteen paces, and half that distance to the rear. It was least potent to the sides, going hardly beyond the centaur’s reach. It was, in fact, less an isle of magic than an aisle, always preceding the centaur’s march. Thus the second raft was able to precede Amolde’s raft comfortably, or to follow it closely, but not to travel beside it. They had verified that the hard way, having the magic propulsion fail, until Amolde turned to face them.
Once they re-entered the main magic of Xanth, Amolde’s power was submerged. It seemed to make no difference how close he was or which way he faced; there was no enhancement of enchantment near him. But of course they had no way to measure the intensity of magic in his vicinity accurately.
Grundy sneaked in to wake Chet and explain the situation, while Amolde researched in his old tomes for the best and swiftest route to Mundania. He reported that there was the tunnel the sun used to return from the ocean east to its position of rising, drying out and recharging along the way. This tunnel would be suitable by day, when the sun wasn’t using it; they could trot right along it.
“But that would take us west,” Irene protested. “My father left Xanth to the north.”
Dor had to agree. “The standard route to Mundania is across the northwest isthmus. We must go there and hope to pick up traces of his passage. We can’t use the sun’s tunnel. But it’s a long way to the isthmus, and I don’t think we want to make another trip like the one down the coast; we might never get there. Are there any other good notions?”
“Well, tomorrow is destined to have intermittent showers,” Amolde said. “There should be a rainbow. There is a spell in the archives for traveling the rainbow. It is very fast, for rainbows do not endure long. There is some risk-“
“Speed is what we need,” Dor said, remembering his dreamvisions, where there had been a sensation of urgency. “I think King Trent is in trouble and needs to be rescued soon. Maybe not in the next day, but I don’t think we can afford to wait a month.”
“There is also the problem of mounting the rainbow,” Amolde said. Now that he had accepted the distasteful notion of his own magic, his mind was relating to the situation very readily. Perhaps it was because he was trained in the handling of information and knew how to organize it. “Part of the rainbow’s magic, as you know, is that it appears equally distant from all observers, with its two ends touching the ground equally far from them, north and south. We must ascend to its top, then slide down quickly before it fades.”
“The salve!” Grundy said. “We can mount smoke to a cloud, and run across the cloud to the top of the rainbow, if we start early, before the rainbow forms.”
“You just don’t understand,” the centaur said. “It will seem just as far from us when we board the cloud. Catching a rainbow is one of the hardest things to do.”
“I can see why,” Dor muttered. “How can we catch one if it always retreats?”
“Excise the eyes,” Smash suggested, covering his own gross orbs with his gauntleted mitts.
“Of course the monster is right,” Amolde said, not looking at Smash, whom he seemed to find objectionable. “That is the obvious solution.”
It was hardly obvious to Dor. “How can covering our eyes get us to the rainbow?”
“It can hardly appear distant if you don’t look at it,” Amolde said.
“Yes, but-“
“I get it,” Grundy said. “We spot it, then close our eyes and go to where we saw it, and it can’t get away because we aren’t looking at it. Simple.”
“But somebody has to look at it, or it isn’t there,” Irene protested. “Or is it?”
“Chet can look at it,” Grundy said. “He’s not going on it any way.”
Dor distrusted this, but the others seemed satisfied. “Let’s get some sleep tonight and see what happens tomorrow,” he said, hoping it all made sense.
They slept late, but that was all right because the intermittent rain wasn’t due until midmorning. Amolde dutifully acquainted the centaur Elders with his situation; as expected, they encouraged him to depart the Isle forever at his very earliest convenience, without directly referring to the reason for his loss of status in their community. A Magician was not wanted here; they could not be comfortable with him. They would let it be known that Amolde was retiring for reasons of health, so as to preserve his reputation, and they would arrange to break in a new archivist. No one would know his shame. To facilitate his prompt departure they provided him with a useful assortment of spells and counterspells for his journey, and wished him well.
“The hypocrites!” Irene exclaimed. “For fifty years Amolde serves them well, and now, suddenly, just because-“
“I said you would not comprehend the nuances of centaur society,” Chet reminded her, though he did not look comfortable himself.
Irene shut up rebelliously. Dor liked her better for her feeling, however. It was time to leave Centaur Isle, and not just because they had a new mission.
The intermittent clouds formed and made ready to shower. Dor set up a smudge pot and got a column of smudge angling up to intersect the cloud level. They applied the salve to their feet and hands, invoked the curse-counterspells Amolde distributed, and marched up the column. Amolde adjusted to this odd climb remarkably well for his age; he had evidently kept himself in traveling shape by making archaeological field trips.
For a moment they paused to turn back to face Chet, who was standing on the beach, watching for the rainbow. Dor found himself choking up, and could only wave.
“I hope to see you again, cousin,” Amolde called. Chet was not related to him; what he referred to was the unity of their magic talents.
“And meet your sire.” And Chet smiled, appreciating the thought.
When they reached the cloud layer, they donned blindfolds.
“Clouds,” Dor said, “tell us where the best path to the top of the rainbow is. Don’t let any of us step too near the edge of you.”
“What rainbow?” the nearest cloud asked.
“The one that is about to form, that my friend Chet Centaur will see from the ground.”
“Oh, that rainbow. It isn’t here yet. It hasn’t finished its business on the eastern coast of Xanth.”
“Well, guide us to where it’s going to be.”
“Why don’t you open your eyes and see it for yourself?” the canny cloud asked. The inanimate was often perverse, and the many folds and convolutions of clouds made them smarter than average.
“Just guide us,” Dor said.
“Aw.” But the cloud had to do it.
There was a popping sound behind them, down on the ground.
“That’s the popcorn I gave Chet,” Irene said. “I told him to set it off when he saw the rainbow. Now that rainbow is fixed in place, as long as he looks at it and we don’t; we must be almost upon it.”
“Are we?” Dor asked the cloud.
“Yeah,” the cloud conceded grudgingly. “It’s right ahead, though it has no head. That’s cumulus humor.”
“Rainbow!” Dor called. “Sing out If you hear me!”
Back came the rainbow’s song: “Tra-la-la-fol-de-rol!” It sounded beautiful and multicolored.
They hurried over to it. Once they felt its smooth surface projecting above the cloud and climbed upon it, they removed their blindfolds; the rainbow could no longer work its deceptive magic.
The rainbow was fully as lovely as it sounded. Bands of red and yellow, blue and green, extended lengthwise, and sandwiched between them, where ground observers couldn’t see them, were the secret riches of the welkin: bands of polka-dot, plaid, and checkerboard. Some internal bands were translucent, and some blazed with colors seldom imagined by man, like fortissimo, charm, phon, and torque. It would have been easy to become lost in their wonders, and Irene seemed inclined to do just that, but the rainbow would not remain here long. It seemed rainbows had tight schedules, and this one was due for a showing somewhere in Mundania in half an hour.