Roc And A Hard Place (14 page)

“That neither,” Jenny said.  “It just wouldn't go.”

“It is almost as if your home no longer—” Ichabod started, then stifled it.

“No longer exists,” Jenny finished firmly.  “I recognized that some time ago.  But it could be that my family is all right.  If the Holt burned, they would move.  But there would be no way for me to find the new home from here.”

“Do you dislike it here?” Arnolde asked.

“No.  I have been here six years now, and I'm not sure I really want to go home any more.  I only wish—”

“That there were others of your particular type,” Arnolde concluded.  “I know the feeling, being the only centaur Magician in Xanth.  I was exiled from my home of Centaur Isle because of that, and can never return.”

Jenny looked at him, suddenly warming to him.  “Yes!”

“Or being the only completely unmagical Mundane in a magical land,” Ichabod said.  “Fortunately there are some cheering sights here.”

Mentia realized why Arnolde had asked her to show her legs before:  for the tonic effect on his friend.  She fogged out her gown, showing them again.

“Why did you seek me out?” Arnolde inquired.

“My better half’s errand for the Simurgh requires her to round up Jurors for a big trial.  Two of them are Mundanes, so—”

“Mundanes!” Ichabod exclaimed.

“Dug and Kim,” Mentia agreed.  “They visited here three years ago, playing a game, and Kim won a magic talent as a prize.  Then they went home to Mundania.  Now they are on the list, and must be summoned here to decide Roxanne Roc's fate.”

“The big bird in the Nameless Castle?” Arnolde asked.

“What did she do?”

Mentia shrugged.  “No one seems to know.  But once I get all the people summoned and delivered, maybe we'll all find out.”

“So you wish me to take you into Mundania,” Arnolde said.  “To find those two Jurors.”

“Exactly.  The summons tokens will indicate the way, but I'm a demoness.  I can't leave the magic realms.  But if I can arrange to take magic with me—”

“And this trial is required by the Simurgh herself?”

“Yes.”

“Then it behooves me to facilitate it.  I suppose my labor here can wait a while.” Then his eye caught something.  It looked like a large fly, but it had several buttons on its body.

“There's a specimen!  Note it, Ichabod.”

Ichabod opened his notebook, and several more notes popped musically out.  “One buttoned fly,” he said, marking it in his book.

“Are they dangerous?” Jenny asked.

“Only when they get unbuttoned,” Ichabod replied with an obscure smile.

Mentia changed the subject.  “Exactly how long have you been surveying mad artifacts?”

Arnolde exchanged a glance with Ichabod.  “About twenty eight years,” the centaur said.  “Ever since I retired from the kingship of Xanth.  I went to Mundania and fetched my friend, who wished to retire in Xanth, and whose archivistic skill complements my specialty of alien archaeology.  This is a fascinating region, and until last year, it was expanding.”

“Yes, the Time of No Magic voided a confining spell, and allowed the madness to expand,” Mentia said.  “But we fixed that last year, and now the madness is retreating.”

“You fixed it?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, it was a joint effort.  Mainly Gary Gargoyle, but I helped.  We were in Stone Hinge.”

“That's a mere ruin, thousands of years old.  How could you—”

“Two thousand years old,” she agreed.  “We visited the deep past in a joint vision.  It's a long story.”

Arnolde shook his head, bemused.  “It must be.” He exchanged another glance with his friend.  “Are you ready to revisit Mundania, Ich?”

“In your company, certainly.  Without it, I fear I would soon perish of old age.”

Mentia glanced at Arnolde.  “You're pretty old yourself, centaur, for a mortal.  Over a century and a quarter.  How is it that you haven't faded away long since?”

“We have wondered about that,” Arnolde confessed.

“Though I am a Magician, my talent does not relate to age, and of course, Ichabod lacks magic entirely.  We conjecture that the ambience of madness has had, if not a rejuvenating effect, a stabilizing one, so that we remain healthy as long as we remain in it.  This encourages our continuance of our survey, apart from its value as information.”

Mentia nodded.  “I know some Mundanes who live here, who I think would be dead in Mundania.  There's something about the madness.”

“It is, after all, Xanth's most intense magic,” Arnolde pointed out.  “It may have effects that normal magic does not.  We have not been inclined to question this blessing.”

“But if you leave the madness—what then?” Jenny asked.

“Actually I have on occasion stepped outside the madness,” Arnolde said.  “I noticed no deleterious effect.  My conjecture is that I have become so charged with magic that my aisle in effect extends into Xanth.  That is, that I now generate an aisle of madness that keeps me and Ichabod healthy wherever we go.  Of course, this could not be expected to last indefinitely, but it will be intriguing to test it in Mundania.”

“Great!” Mentia said.  “We can get Jenny out of the madness, then move on toward the isthmus.  We'll have to step along, as it will take several days for you folk to traverse Xanth, and we don't have time to spare, but—”

“We may be able to accelerate it, if you can summon assistance for traveling,” Ichabod said.

Mentia hadn't thought of that.  “I know a giant who was in the madness last year.  Maybe if I can locate him—”

Sammy leaped from Jenny's arms and bounded away through the madness.  Jenny scrambled after him.  “Wait for me!”

“No!” Mentia cried.  “You stay here.  Jenny; I'll follow him, and bring him back.”

Jenny looked doubtful, but stopped running.  Mentia floated rapidly after the cat.

This was just as well, because Sammy, still not properly familiar with the madness, was getting in trouble.  A huge ant with patterns of stripes on its forelegs was blocking the way.  “Company—HALT!” the ant bawled.

Sammy, startled, halted.  But Metria didn't.  “What are you?” she demanded of the ant.

“I am Sarge.  I give the orders around here.”

“Well, Sarge Ant, I rank you, because I am a Cap Tain.”

She formed herself into a large floating cap with the word TAIN printed across it.

“Yes SIR!  the ant agreed, saluting with a foreleg.  “What are your orders, sir?”

“Carry on, Sarge.  Just tell me what threats there might be to a traveling cat in this vicinity.”

“Just King Bomb, sir.”

“What's he King of?”

“The ticks, sir.  He's a tick.  He has a very short fuse.”

Mentia considered.  She knew that ticks could be bad mischief in real Xanth, and possibly worse here.  Still, a short tempered tick named Bomb didn't seem too formidable.

“What's his given name?”

“Time, sir.”

“How can we tell when we're near him?”

“You can hear him ticking, sir.”

“Thank you, Sarge.  Dismissed.”

The ant went his way.  So did Sammy, bounding on through the madness.  But he paused just a moment, glancing back.  “Wait for me!” Mentia cried, catching the hint.  Then the cat forged ahead at full feline velocity.

But soon Mentia heard an ominous ticking.  They were approaching King Bomb!  So she zoomed ahead.  Sure enough, there was a tick shaped like bloated sphere standing squarely in the path the cat would take.  He looked extremely irritable, likely to explode at any moment.

Mentia came to float directly before him.  “Tick King Time Bomb, blow this joint,” she said.

The King's tiny eyes glared at her.  “Begone yourself, Demoness!  I'll have no truck with thee.” His ticking got louder.

“That's what you think.  Bomb bast.  Get out of here before I set you off.”

“This is an outrage!” the King declared, growing larger as his ticking intensified.

Mentia discovered an egg plant growing nearby.  She picked an egg and hurled it at the King.  It splattered on his metallic torso, the white and yoke drooling down.

That did it.  The King detonated.  The explosion blasted a hole in the ground and sent shrapnel into the surrounding treetrunks, but of course, it didn't hurt Mentia.

Sammy appeared.  He bounded across the smoking crater and went on, unconcerned.

Mentia followed.  Suddenly the cat stopped.  He was before a large dent in the forest floor that was shaped like a human posterior.  Mentia knew they were in the presence of a monstrous invisible man, who was sitting on the forest floor.  The smell was so bad that she abolished her nose.  It was as if a garbage factory with indigestion had burned halfway down.

“Hello, Jethro Giant,” Mentia said.  “Remember me?  I'm the Demoness Mentia.  We met last year.”

“Oh, yes,” Jethro agreed.  “Has it been that long?  I was just getting ready to get up and go.”

“I will gladly show you the way out, if you will help me carry a few people to the edge of Xanth.”

“That seems like an amicable deal.  Stand back.”

Mentia snatched up the cat and floated back.  There was a huge grunt and heave, and two monstrous footprints replaced the bottom-shaped indentation.  Then an enormous invisible hand came down to take her.  “Where are your people?” Jethro asked.

Mentia described the direction, and the giant tromped that way.  In only a few steps they arrived at the glade where man, centaur, and elf waited, holding their noses as they turned greenish.

Mentia floated down.  “Think of sweet violets,” she suggested as she handed Sammy, who looked somewhat green instead of orange himself, to Jenny.  “Jethro Giant is a nice guy.”

Then the huge hand came down and picked them gently up.  “Where to?” the voice sounded from far above.

Mentia floated up to invisible ear level, and directed him toward the edge of madness.  In two steps they were out of it.  Then Jethro strode rapidly forward toward the edge of Xanth, and the resulting wind blew most of the odor away.

The mortals were able to resume breathing.

“Oh, this is interesting!” Jenny cried, peering down through the invisible hand.  “Xanth looks just like a map.”

“Oops,” Mentia said.  “I forgot to set you down when we left the madness.”

“Don't bother.  I know Kim and Dug, and would like to see them again, and Sammy can help you find them.  Besides, we're all going to the same place in the end.  To that weird trial.  It's nice being on a quest, of a sort.”

“An elf quest?  That makes so much sense, I'll have to ignore it,” Mentia said.

“No, just put your uncrazy better half in charge,” Jenny said.  “I always sort of liked her, even if she did drive me crazy.”

“Oh?  Why do you asseverate that?”

“Why do I what that?”

“Declare, avow, attest, proclaim, expound, announce—”

“Assert?”

“Whatever!”

“Welcome back, Metria!”

“It's nice to rejoin you, too, odd elf.  What are you going to do, now that your friend Nada has found true love, or at least a husband?”

“I don't know.  Maybe I should ask Magician Trent to transform someone for me, as he did for Gloha Goblin Harpy.”

“Yes, and in the process I wound up married too,” Metria agreed reminiscently.

“You did it to save her from mischief.”

“Well, my half soul gave me a conscience, so I had to.”

“But didn't you save her before you got your conscience?”

Metria paused, sorting it out.  “Yes, I suppose so.  But I wanted to find out what love was like.”

They looked out across Xanth.  “Oh, look!” Jenny exclaimed.  “There's a light house.”

Metria looked.  Sure enough, the house was floating through the air, carried along by the wind.  “That's a very light house,” she agreed.

“But what's that?” Jenny asked, alarmed, as she looked in another direction.

Metria looked again.  “Oh, that's an air plain,” she explained.  “Where flying centaurs can graze.”

Indeed, four winged centaurs were standing on the cloudlike plain, picking berry, bread, and grape fruits.

“And there's an air male,” Jenny said, as the centaur stallion waved to her with his wings.  “Hi, Cheiron!”

“Wait a half a moment!” Metria said.  “How can there be four flying centaurs there?  Che and Cynthia are at Castle Roogna until the trial.  There should be only Cheiron and Chex.”

“Oh, didn't you know?” Jenny asked.  “The stork brought two more foals to them last year.  Actually centaurs don't use storks, because their foals are too heavy, but—”

“Two more foals?”

“Chelsy and Cherish.  Twins.  Maybe they were taking their naps when you visited the family.”

“Maybe so,” Metria agreed doubtfully.

Meanwhile the giant was striding obliviously on, soon leaving the floating plain behind.  Jenny looked ahead.

“Oops.”

Metria followed her gaze a third time.  “Oh, it's just a storm.”

“Not just any storm.  That's Fracto!”

Metria peered at the cloud more closely.  “Why, so it is. I remember when he was just another demon, before he specialized in cloudcraft.”

“He always comes at the worst time, to mess up whatever others are doing.”

“Of course.  He's a demon.”

“Are you like that?”

“I used to be, as you know.  I just had a more delicate contiguity.”

“A more delicate what?”

“Concurrence, immediacy, propinquity, proximity, pressure, sensation—”

“Touch?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.  “Demonesses just aren't as violent as demons, but our mischief is equivalent.” She thought of King Gromden and Threnody.  Those were the bad old days, when she helped bring down kingdoms with her sex appeal.  Windbag Fracto never achieved that.

“Well, maybe he'll fail this time,” Jenny said, “because Jethro Giant is too big to be blown away.”

“But it should be fun watching him try.”

The storm swelled up grotesquely as the giant strode toward it.  Dark clouds reached up for the sky, and down for the ground.  Thunderbirds and lightning bugs spun in the swirling air currents.  Rain splatted against the giant's invisible body, outlining it in glistening water.

“I'll fetch rain coats,” Metria said, and popped off.  She found an old, ancient, worn-out storm, and took a sheet of its rain, fashioning it into several capes.  Because the rain was tired, it no longer had the energy to wet things down, and just hung there inertly.