Knot Gneiss (21 page)

“Door?” he asked.

“No Door. I want to check the roots next.”

“That makes no sense.” He was agreeing with her.

Angela returned. “I found fruits! But they’re some distance away.” She pointed the direction.

“Awful problem,” Jumper said. He assumed roc form. They got on, and he took off in the wrong direction.
Oops!
He corrected. The directional reversals remained in effect in the foliage region.

They came to the fruits. There were several adorable dear eating them, spitting out the seeds. Wenda collected a considerable number of seeds and stored them in a bag, feeling their considerable reversal power. Her impression was that they featured all kinds of reversals, so that each could make a whole reverse-wood tree with all its parts.

They returned to the wagon. Wenda made a net of thin vines, speckled with seeds, and spread it over the Knot in place of the worn-out shell. It worked; Jumper and Angela knew the difference immediately.

Satisfied that the Door was not here, they organized for an overnight flight to the south of the tree: the roots. Jumper transformed to roc form, and they rolled the wagon on and anchored it. Then they all took their places, and the roc took off.

The sound reversal stopped. They were normal, for the time being.

There was nothing much to do but snooze. They did, as the roc winged steadily onward.

Wenda woke when Charming appeared. “Charming! What are you doing here?”

“It is dark. Conjugal time.”

She realized it was true. She had slept through the night and day. “But we’re still in the air!” she protested.

“Yes. Poor Eris can’t be with Jumper. But Beauregard and I have no problem.”

Wenda saw that the others were asleep, except for Angela. So she embraced Charming. And in seven minutes he was asleep and gone. Sometimes she almost wished he would stay awake another minute or two, so they could talk when the urgency of his physical interest had been abated. But that seemed to be too much to ask of marriage.

What could she do? She went back to sleep.

She woke in the morning. They were now flying above the base of the trunk, approaching the root. They had breakfast, washed up, and used closable privy potties Ida produced, so that the flight did not have to be interrupted.

“What kind of reversal will we face when we touch the root?” Wenda inquired.

Gender,
Jumper replied mentally.
Eris told me.

Evidently incidental information was not a violation of the Demon Protocol. Eris couldn’t tell them where the Door was, but something they would soon discover on their own was all right.

“We can wear shoes, and avoid it,” Hilarion said. “That I think is to be preferred.”

“Or remain in the air,” Meryl said.

No,
Jumper thought.
Eris says there are folk there we will want to interact with, and the moment we touch them, we will change, so it’s better to change at the outset and be consistent.

“What folk?” Ida asked. “We are merely looking for the Door off this world.”

The gnomes. They will know where the Door is.

Oh. “So we’ll go barefoot and change orientations,” Wenda agreed, not entirely pleased. “But we must make clear to the gnomes that all we want is the Door.”

“I lack experience with gnomes,” Meryl said. “Exactly what is it they do?”

“They are normally miners,” Ida said, “working underground, and crafting things there. The men are rather squat and ugly, but the females, the gnomides, are petite and beautiful. They have a reputation for honesty and hard work. It won’t be like dealing with trolls or goblins.”

“Actually the trolls of the trollway were all right,” Meryl said. “They did their business properly.”

“They did,” Ida agreed. “But I think goblins would not.”

“Wasn’t there a decent goblin?” Hilarion asked. “I believe I heard a story about one who married a goblin princess.”

“That was Goody Goblin,” Ida said. “He was an exception, because he drank a reverse-wood beverage when young and got reversed. So he was nice, and reviled by other goblins. Fortunately Gwenny Gobliness was looking for a nice male, and she made a play for him, and of course took him.”

“I have heard about goblin females too,” Hilarion said. “It is said that some are so beautiful that a man must wear protective glasses when looking at them, lest he suffer eye damage.”

Ida laughed. “Surely an exaggeration. But it is true that the females are both lovely and nice, in considerable contrast to the males. Gnomes are similar in such respects, but less so.”

Conversation lapsed as they moved on toward the root. Would they find the Door there? Wenda was not at all sure they would. But where else was there to look?

Then she became aware of an increasing nervousness among her fellow passengers. Oops—it had been more than a day since the last reverse-wood shell update. The Knot was making its nasty power felt.

Wenda got up and touched the net shell. “I wood knot dew that to yew,” she said. “That wood bee cruel.” Sure enough, the shield was almost gone. The words had meaning only as a test of the shield’s effect.

Quickly she got out new seeds to replace the old ones in the net. She felt the brooding anger of the Knot. It had perhaps hoped to drive the people off the roc, then make the roc himself panic and crash. Fortunately Wenda had been at least belatedly alert. The bad feeling faded as she completed the replacements.

Thank you,
Jumper thought.
It was becoming uncomfortable.

“You are welcome,” Wenda murmured, noting that the dialect spell was functioning again.

She settled back into her place and relaxed. She hoped the Door would be found soon, but knew she couldn’t count on it. They would simply have to keep slogging on until they somehow found it.

Hello, Wenda.

“Hello, Eris,” Wenda murmured. She was coming to like these occasional private dialogues with the Demoness.

Thank you. I believe I am making progress in my study of friendship. I discover that I like conversing with you. That is a pleasure I had not imagined before I came to know you. Now I would talk to you even if Jumper were not near. He has become irrelevant in this respect.

“Thank you,” Wenda said. “But I am nothing special. I’m just a wouldwife with a job to do.”

And you are doing it well. You have kept your mind on your mission, and maintained the organization necessary to accomplish it.

“I have just muddled along, unable to do anything else.”

You are an effective leader. The others depend on your constancy.

“Thank you,” Wenda repeated, unable to think of anything else to say, though she felt she was being given more credit than was due.

Jumper learned much of humanity from you, and I am doing the same. The others need you. So do I.

“But you’re a Demoness!”

A Dwarf Demoness. I do not need you physically or intellectually. I need you emotionally. You have the simple, honest, nice feelings that made you the best of friends for Jumper. Feelings I want to share.

“You’re welcome to them.” Wenda still felt overcredited.

Your very contact enhances my mood. Now that I have discovered you, I do not wish to lose you.

“Oh, I will not reject you!” Wenda protested. “I just think I am not the only one who could help you.”

Perhaps,
the Demoness agreed, and faded.

The Demoness was becoming familiar, but Wenda suspected she would never lose her awe. She was keenly aware that even a Dwarf Demon had power beyond anything imaginable by mortal folk. The only constraints on it were the powers of other Demons, in their Demon Protocols that governed their interactions. That was perhaps fortunate for mortals.

It is,
Jumper agreed.
I have come to know her to an extent, and her full powers are miraculous. I occupy only about one percent of her attention, and that’s more than I can compass. Yet I know she is merely one of a great number of minor demons.

“One percent!”

You occupy a similar amount of her attention. She is really taken with you. I understand that; you are worthy.

“Thank you,” Wenda said once again. It was obvious she knew next to nothing about Demons.

I value my friendship with you above all else. I think that is what first attracted her attention to you.

Eris had said much the same. Wenda still felt unworthy.

In due course they reached the root section of the tree. Jumper glided down to a suitable landing place. He found a valley with brown plants growing thickly. That would do.

The moment Jumper touched ground, he transformed to a female roc, slightly smaller, with glossier feathers.
I’m a chick,
he thought. That confirmed the nature of this region.

The others removed their shoes and set bare feet on the ground. Ida became a man, with her dress ill fitting, loose around the chest and hips. Meryl put her tail down, transformed, picked up a chip of wood, and flew back into the air, retaining her transformation. Angela touched and did not seem to change. But that was because her body was invisible. Hilarion became a lovely woman, his clothing tight where Ida’s was loose, his/her hair growing down to her waist. Jumper changed to manform, and was a handsome bare woman. What had been mere flashes before as they worked with reverse wood was now permanent for the duration, and that was less comfortable.

Wenda of course would not be affected, but she put her bare foot on the ground to join the others. And felt something uncomfortably strange. What was happening?

“You’re changing!” Jumper told her.

“But I can’t be,” she protested. “I’m immune.”

“You may be immune to chips and branches, but not an entire landscape,” Ida said. “This is the reverse-wood heartland, surely the most potent environment of all. In fact I suspect it is more than wood, but the reverse soil from which the wood springs. The root essence of the tree and this world.”

That seemed to be the case. Wenda’s chest and hips shrank, her shoulders and arms turned muscular and her body became lean and hard where it had been rounded and soft. The hair of her head shortened drastically, and a mustache sprouted on her upper lip. Her delicate human feet had become hard hooves. She was now not a nymph but a faun. Physically; she would never be male in spirit. “Ugh!” she exclaimed.

The others laughed. “That does sum it up,” Meryl agreed, glancing down at her own blank chest.

Hilarion glanced at Ida. “Would you like to exchange clothing?”

“Yes, I believe I would.” Ida went to Hilarion, and the two removed their awkward clothing and donned each other’s outfits. They did fit reasonably well, for Ida had gained stature as a man, and Hilarion had lost some as a woman. Wenda noted that they had become comfortable enough with each other to make such an exchange without retreating to private areas. They were what they were, reversed.

Then Wenda produced Jumper’s clothing from her purse, donned it, and handed him hers. Again the fits were reasonable, considering. They were decent again.

They scattered to separate groves to dump potties and such. Wenda had to get used to the male hardware that had replaced her female software; it was awkward, physically, esthetically, and emotionally. Then they organized for a search for the Door.

“I don’t suppose you could conjure it with the humidor?” Meryl inquired.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ida said. “The humidor conjures only the Door going out, not the one returning. We have to find an existing Door.”

Jumper transformed into a female quack and flew out to canvas one outer quadrant. Meryl flew to check another. Angela covered a third. Ida, Hilarion, and Wenda spread out and paced the closed-in area. It seemed hopeless, but they knew there was a Door. They would simply have to keep looking until they found it.

“Hello, faun.”

Wenda jumped; she had been so focused on looking around that she had not looked ahead. There was a gnome, short, knobby, dour in the gnome fashion. He bore a gnarled wood staff, but did not seem unfriendly. “Hello, gnome,” she replied.

“I am Gnever Gnome, chief of the Gnarly Gnomes. What brings you to our territory?”

“I am Wenda, from Xanth. We came here by accident, and are seeking the Door home.”

“Ah, a world traveler. You will not find the Door here.”

“You know where it is?” Wenda said eagerly.

“Perhaps,” he replied cannily. “Your party will want to visit for a while; perhaps you will elect to remain here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are not many of us, and we have a heavy burden of demand for our carvings, which are exported to many other worlds. We would like to augment our numbers. Perhaps we can persuade you to stay.”

Wenda realized that it might not be expedient to deny him directly. They needed the gnomes’ cooperation. “Possibly,” she agreed. “But how is it that you speak our language? We are from worlds away.”

Gnever smiled. “We colonized this world from Xanth, generations ago, to set up a viable trade with reverse-wood artifacts. Naturally we retain our home language, and are eager to have news from the old world. But we do need more colonists.”

Oh. That did make sense. “We will be happy to share whatever news we have.”

“Call in your several minions, and we will treat you to a visitors’ welcome. We can get to know one another.”

“That seems fair,” Wenda agreed cautiously. How had he known she was the leader of this party? Unless he had been observing them before making himself known.

Wenda lifted her voice and called, using her forest voice. “Folk, come in! We have a contact!” She sent a separate thought to Jumper, knowing he would read it in her mind. She was slowly becoming acclimatized to this leadership business.

Soon the others gathered, and Wenda introduced them to Gnever. They seemed suitably impressed. Jumper, in female manform, caught her eye in passing; he had gotten her message. He would conceal his several special abilities until they were better acquainted with the gnomes.