Free xanth 40 - isis orb by Piers Anthony Page B

went to the coach and stepped up into it.
    “Uh—” Hapless said uncertainly, too late. Then he shrugged and joined her.
    The centaur took hold of a strap at the front of the coach and set off down the trail at a trot. Soon they were moving along at a good clip-clop.
    “The way I phrased it, he had to give me a true answer, either way,” Feline explained. “So it was a good verification.”
    “That is not the case,” the centaur called back. “You confused it with the truth-teller/liar syndrome, where each always honors his code, and the liar lies about what he would have said and so tells the truth. In the real world, the liar knows that sometimes he can be a more effective liar by telling the truth.”
    “Uh-oh,” Hapless said, chagrined.
    “Fortunately I am legitimate,” the centaur continued. “Enjoy your ride, but be more careful in the future.”
    Feline blushed. “I’m sorry. I thought I had it figured.”
    Hapless took her hand. “You tried. And it got us a good ride.”
    “Brace yourself. I’m going to kiss you.”
    “I don’t need to brace myself for—”
    She intercepted him with a kiss so forceful that he fell over on the seat. He had needed bracing after all. He had learned not to take too much for granted with women, but he was really getting to like Feline. Would that be mischief?
    They rode on, looking out the small windows. The scenery was fairly racing past. In fact the wind of their passage leaked in and chilled them. There was a blanket, which they pulled over them, but their ears still were cold.
    “Use the ear wigs,” the centaur called back.
    These turned out to be hairy caps—wigs—with padded muffs that did indeed keep their ears warm. “Thank you!” Feline called.
    “I think we got the wrong ones,” Feline said.
    He looked at her. The wig made her look like an old time barrister. “You look elegant.”
    “Thank you. You’re beautiful yourself.”
    “I am?”
    Then she fetched out her little makeup mirror and handed it to him. He held it up so he could see his own face.
    His wig made him into a long-haired blonde.
    “Um, maybe we can exchange?”
    She pulled off her wig and gave it to him. He gave her his. Now she looked like the blonde, and actually she was quite appealing that way.
    She made a wry face. “You like her better than you like me.”
    “I, uh—”
    Then her frown-face cracked and she burst out laughing. She had been teasing him.
    “Brace yourself,” he said. Then he kissed her. She could have dodged it, but didn’t. So far each kiss had been better than the last, and this was no exception.
    “Oh, my,” she said when it ended. “A little heart.”
    Now he saw it, floating away like a soap bubble. “Does this mean we’re getting serious?”
    “You just love my curves.”
    “I, uh”
    “Got you again,” she said, smiling.
    He spread his hands. “I do like your curves. But I like your personality too.”
    “I am slowly coming to believe that,” she said seriously. “But let’s give it time. Other girls have curves too.”
    He was glad to leave it at that.
    The coach slowed, then stopped. “We have a problem,” the centaur said.
    They got out and looked, leaving the ear wigs in the coach. The trail ahead went to a bridge over a deep ravine. It looked all right, with a tall center pole from which cables curved gracefully down to help support the planking. “What is the problem?” Hapless asked.
    “The inspector says this bridge might not be safe.”
    “Inspector?” Feline asked.
    “Me.”
    They turned. There was a man who looked to be about 61, give or take a few months. “And you are?” Hapless asked.
    “Peter Reddick, from Mundania. I helped build bridges there. Now I inspect them. It’s a living.” He smiled. “Though it seems I died.”
    Hapless exchanged most of a baffled look with Feline. What did this mean?
    “Some Mundanes come to Xanth when they’re through with Mundania,” the centaur mentioned. “He evidently