Currant Events

by Piers Anthony

  "But you have no positive agenda," Clio protested as she awkwardly fended off the attack. "You would quickly make enemies, and leave my reputation in ruins."

  "More fun," Oilc agreed, this time aiming for the knees.

  "Who would write the Histories of Xanth?" Clio asked, jerking her knees back.

  "Who needs to? They're dull, boring, repetitive, and uninteresting, with egregious puns."

  That generated some ire. "Who makes any such claim?"

  "The critics, jerk. Who else?"

  "Nobody else," Clio said with some asperity.

  "Anyway, I won't bother writing anything. It'll be a lot more fun to go around messing people up. They deserve it."

  Clio realized that she really had to do something about this double. But how could she get rid of the woman without being unconscionably violent? That just wasn't her nature. Which, it seemed, was why it was Oilc's nature, she being opposite in everything but appearance.

  Now Clio was backed up against the bank of the moat. One more step and she would fall in, and she rather suspected that this would represent a failure to navigate the Challenge. Whatever was she to do?

  Oilc swung again, trying to knock her into the moat. Clio tried to avoid her, but lost her balance and started to fall. She flung her arms out, losing her stick, and happened to catch Oilc by the arm. She hauled on it, trying to recover her balance.

  "Let go, imbecile!" Oilc snapped. "I don't even want to touch you, you emotional jellyfish."

  Then Clio got a wild idea. She flung both arms around Oilc and hugged her close. "You're my other half," she said. "I love you and want you with me always!"

  "Stop it, you mealymouthed disaster!" Oilc cried. "I want no part of you!"

  But Clio clung close. She brought her face to the other face and kissed it.

  Oilc screamed in sheer anguish. Then suddenly she was gone. Clio was left standing holding nothing, shaking with reaction.

  She had done it. She had solved the riddle. She had realized that the only way to be rid of the ugly facet of herself was not to fight it but to take it back into herself and suppress it with her conscience. In this manner she had destroyed Oilc before Oilc destroyed her. She hoped she would never have to go through anything like that again.

  She brushed herself off and walked through the main portal into the castle. The entry wasn't straight; it made a right angle turn to the right, then to the left. The wall to the right was carved in the shape of a huge human face.

  As she stood there, a panel slid across the passage she had just passed through. She was blocked in; she could not retreat. Well, she hadn't intended to go back that way anyway; her business was forward into the castle.

  She looked down the left side passage. It led to a ramp that rose to about head height, then evidently descended beyond. The ceiling rose accordingly, so there was room to walk up and over the ramp to reach whatever was on the other side. It was an odd layout, but maybe there was something beneath that couldn't be moved or altered, so the passage simply had to go over it. Just about anything was possible, here in the Good Magician's castle.

  Could this be the next Challenge? The fact that she was closed in here suggested that it was. She had solved one man's problem of wrong-handedness, and abated her doubled alternate self, so this must be some other type of endeavor. Like the drawbridge and the W turnstile, it looked innocuous and probably wasn't.

  She would find out. She marched down the hall and started up the ramp. It was steep but not too steep; she could handle it for this short distance.

  Suddenly she felt heavy. Very heavy. Something was weighing her down horribly. It wasn't her imagination; her feet were pressing into the ramp and sliding down it as if shoved by a giant hand. She barely kept her footing as she landed back on the flat portion of the floor.

  The weight left her. It must have been magic, because there was no evidence of any natural force. This did seem to be the Challenge: to mount to the top of the ramp, when it made her so heavy that she got pushed back down.

  She tried it again, bracing herself against the extra weight. And ran right up the ramp as if she were featherlight. In fact her feet left the surface and she floated, drifting back, unable to gain any purchase to push her forward.

  Now this was interesting, in an annoying sort of way. The first time she had grown heavy; the second time, light. Both balked her; what she needed was a compromise, her normal weight. How could she keep that?

  She tried again, treading carefully up the slope. The heaviness came, increasing until she was unable to drag herself up farther, and had to let herself slide back down. She tried a fourth time immediately, moving slowly, and the higher she went, the lighter she became, until she could no longer maintain contact with the ramp, and drifted back in the slight wash of air coming from its far end.

  Well, she had defined the problem. It alternated between heavy and light, and neither suited her purpose. It seemed simple, yet she had no idea how to handle it. Obviously she had to get an idea, or she would be stuck here indefinitely.

  She walked back down the passage. The huge carved face was still there, gazing at her. The enormous eyes blinked.

  Blinked? The face was alive!

  "Now I recognize you," she informed it. "You're a sphinx, serving your year of Service."

  "Congratulations, Muse," the sphinx replied. "You have solved the first riddle. Do you care for the second?"

  "Does it relate to my Challenge?"

  "No, it is merely a diversion to entertain you while you remain balked."

  "I already know what walks on four legs, then two legs, then three legs," she said with some asperity. She was good at asperity. "A woman, when she's a baby, grown, and old with a cane."

  "Unfortunate. I trust you will forgive me if I don't throw myself off a cliff and perish."

  "Considering that there's no cliff here, I seem to have no choice but to forgive you."

  The sphinx smiled. "So good to encounter a trace of humor. I haven't had a good laugh in centuries."

  "Neither have I," she agreed. "Shall we exchange introductions? I am Clio, the Muse of History."

  "I am Gravis the Sphinx."

  "Gravis. Would that have something to do with gravity?"

  "It would."

  "In fact, that would be your magic talent: to increase or decrease gravity in a region. That is what is balking my passage."

  "Congratulations. You have solved another riddle."

  "I am curious: how far does your ability extend? Could it bring a flying bird down from the sky, or raise a fish from the sea, should they happen to traverse the region you affected?"

  "It could. In fact I used to make sport of passing birds and fish who did not understand why they could not fly or swim past a given region."

  "It is certainly a significant talent."

  One eye squinted. "You would not by any chance be seeking to flatter me into allowing you to pass?"

  "I would not have the temerity to attempt any such thing." She was not good at temerity.

  "That is fortunate, because it would only annoy me."

  "I surely would not want to do anything like that."

  "That is good to know."

  They understood each other. She had of course been trying to flatter him, and he had rebuked her for it.

  That left the original problem: how to get past the ramp while the sphinx guarded it. She had no magic to oppose his; she saw no way to counter the unbearable heaviness or lightness of being.

  Then she got a notion. Gravis had not had a good laugh in centuries. Maybe she could provide him one.

  "I regret I must leave you now," she said, "as I have business within the castle."

  "Must we part already? I had thought we would have more time for dialogue."

  "Another time, perhaps."

  She oriented on the ramp, then lifted up her skirt and charged toward it as fast as she could. Obviously she hoped to run up it at such speed as to get over the hump before the heav
y gravity stopped her.

  She made it up several strides before the increasing weight caught her. "Oh!" she cried, and toppled back, somersaulting to the base head over heels, her panties surely showing. She landed on the floor with a thump.

  "Ho ho ho!" Gravis roared, thrilled by her humiliation. Young women flashed panties deliberately; mature ones concealed them at all costs. He took a breath and laughed twice as hard. The force of his breath made a blast of air down the passage.

  Clio clambered to her feet and charged up the ramp again. This time the lightness struck, as it was its turn. In a moment she was floating—and the moving air carried her on up the ramp to the top. It stopped abruptly as the sphinx realized how he had been tricked, but too late; she had passed over the hump.

  She recovered her normal weight and touched down on the far side of the ramp, running. She was through. She had navigated the third Challenge. Now to tackle Humfrey.

  "So nice to meet you again, Clio." It was a young woman approaching her from the far side of the hall, which debouched into a larger chamber.

  "Nice to see you also, Wira." Wira was Humfrey's daughter-in-law, one of the few people he really liked. She was blind, and had seemed useless to her family, so they had put her to sleep. Later Humfrey and the Gorgon's son, Hugo, had awoken her and married her after she had taken a dose of youth water to reduce her age to his. Now she mostly ran the castle, with the help of the Good Magician's designated wives.

  "Can you tell me why I was subjected to this querent business?" Clio asked. "I thought I came as a friend."

  "I am not sure, but I believe Dara knows."

  "She is this month's Designated Wife?"

  "Yes, it is her turn. I understand she was after all Humfrey's first wife."

  "She was," Clio agreed. "She had half a soul, but gave it up and left him, then regretted it."

  "Well, souls are awkward," Dara said, for they were just arriving at the main room. "Can't live with them, can't live without them."

  "We mortals can't live without them," Wira agreed. "I will see if he is ready." She departed quietly.

  Clio hugged Dara. "It has been a while," Dara said.

  "A hundred and fifty-two years since we first met," Clio agreed. "I left after you married Humfrey the first time, and we have encountered each other only passingly since. Did he ever get your name straight?"

  "Never. He still calls me Dana. I'm getting used to it."

  "Well, he's a slow learner."

  They both laughed; it was a private joke. The Good Magician had made it a point to learn everything he could, so he could put it in his Book of Answers. That was just as well, because later he had taken Lethe water and forgotten some things, and now needed the Book to remind him of them.

  "What brings you here?" Dara inquired.

  "My 28th Volume of the History of Xanth is illegible. I evidently wrote it, but now can't read it or remember it."

  "Just like Humfrey with his Book!" They laughed again.

  "So I came to ask him if he knows of this matter. But I had to go through the querent Challenges, which were a nuisance; I can't say I'm pleased. Do you know why he put me through that?"

  "I'm sorry, I don't. I didn't realize it was you until Wira told me. But you know, he has some weird ways. When the Gorgon came and asked him if he would marry her, he made her do a year's Service before he answered."

  "I remember. Then she became Wife #5. But there was a reason: he's such a difficult old man that she needed to have that year's experience with him before she could be truly sure she wanted to marry him."

  "I don't think 'difficult old man' quite covers it. How about 'irascible ancient gnome'?"

  "At present I'm not sure that covers it either. He is going to have to have an excellent reason for treating me this way, or I shall be annoyed."

  "You might write him out of Xanth history!"

  They laughed again. It was humor; Clio wouldn't actually do that. They both knew she was too nice a person.

  "How is it, being his wife for just one month in six?"

  "It takes the first week to get used to his grumpiness, and another week to seduce him away from his musty tome, and by the last week his stinky socks are piling up and I'm quite ready to disappear back into demonly oblivion."

  "You don't pick up his socks?"

  "I'm a demoness! How could I even focus on a dirty job like that? Have you ever smelled one of them?" They laughed again. "Fortunately Sofia Socksorter handles that, in her month. Without her, this castle would melt from the accumulated stench."

  "She's a sturdy woman. Of course that's why he married her: to catch up on his old socks."

  "She knows. She calls him 'Himself,' because that's what he's full of."

  "Does anyone really like him?" Clio asked. It was humor; liking was hardly the point, with the Good Magician.

  "Wira does."

  "Wira's an angel in human form."

  Wira reappeared as if summoned. "Humfrey will see you now, Muse Clio," she said.

  "And I shall see him," Clio said grimly. But her dialog with Dara Demoness had taken the edge off her irk.

  2

  Dragon World

  Good Magician Humfrey's study was as small and cramped as ever, dominated by the huge Book of Answers in the center. Humfrey perched on his stool, poring over it.

  "Get your nose out of that tome and talk to me, Humfrey," Clio said. "How could you have the temerity to treat me like this?"

  He seemed not to hear her. His sunken eyes remained focused on the page before him. Was he adding insult to indignity?

  "Father Humfrey," Wira murmured.

  He looked up, his countenance shifting from concentration to amelioration. Yes, there was magic in the young woman's presence. Probably the man liked the notion of a daughter who would not leave the premises, and she was a worthy one. His wives could take him or leave him, but Wira was always there, utterly committed to his welfare.

  "Muse Clio is here," Wira said, and departed.

  "About time," Humfrey grumped.

  Her annoyance broiled. "Time for what?"

  "For your Service."

  "My Service! Listen, you gnarled excuse for a gnome, I have already had more than half a bellyful of your impertinence. I came here as a friend. I am not accustomed to being treated like a querent."

  Humfrey gazed at her with something like dawning comprehension. "We are friends; I almost forgot."

  "Almost?"

  "There is a crisis that only you can handle, so I summoned you here."

  "Summoned?"

  "Asked," he said, reluctantly qualifying it.

  "Neither did you ask. I came here of my own volition."

  "That, too," he agreed.

  This was weird. "Humfrey, are you well? I suspect you need to drink a cup of Youth Elixir and a gallon of Healing Elixir, then get out into the sunshine for a while. You're letting yourself get too old and isolated. It wasn't always so."

  He almost smiled. "I accidentally overdosed on Youth Elixir once, and became a child. I don't care to risk that again."

  She had to smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but you seemed to cope." She reoriented. "But neither do you need to be a hundred. Why don't you try fifty for a while?"

  He shrugged. "I forget: have you asked your Question yet, or are you saving it until after your Service?"

  "I have a question, but not for a Service. As I said, I came as a friend."

  "I couldn't ask a friend to perform this particular Service."

  She got a faint glimmer, like a bright-winged insect hovering just out of range. "Are you trying to hint that there is some remotely serious purpose behind this mischief?"

  He nodded. "So I ask you, as a friend, not to question this process. Be a querent. Ask your Question, perform the Service, get your Answer, go your way."

  Clio thought of the Gorgon, waiting her year for her Answer. It had seemed outrageous at the time, but had after all made sense. She had to trust in that. Humfre
y was definitely not one for practical jokes.

  "Very well, then. I have an indecipherable volume on my shelf. I wish to know why I can't read it, since I seem to have written it recently."

  Humfrey turned pages on the Book of Answers. "Xanth, History of," he muttered. "Volume?"

  "Number twenty-eight. It's the start of the second magic trilogy."

  "Obviously." He found the place. "For those events, you will need the Currant."

  "Its title may indeed be Current Events."

  "Currant with an A. A red berry. Find that and your problem will be solved."

  "A currant? But that's nonsensical. What has a red berry to do with an obscure history volume?"

  "A magical red berry."

  "That surely makes a difference."

  "But first, your Service. Some background is necessary."

  "Background," she agreed, still taken aback by the irrelevance of his Answer.

  "The dragons of Xanth are going extinct. It is not clear whether it is environmental degradation, disease, loss of habitat, or some other cause, but the process is far enough along so that we doubt they can recover. We need to restock with fresh blood, as it were, before the loss is complete."

  Clio focused. "There does seem to be a dearth of dragons recently. But why would anyone want to save them? They are an endless nuisance." Yet she had noticed the abundant fish, rabbits, and crows. It seemed the dragons weren't off their feed; they were absent.

  "They are the backbone of Xanth wildlife. They keep other creatures in check. Without them Xanth would be insufferably safe and dull."

  "I find it hard to debate that point. But I know nothing of dragons; I have stayed clear of them all my life. I don't even like them. I really find myself unsuited to such a mission."

  "Then recruit assistance."

  Clio stopped trying to argue; Humfrey was beyond argument. "You mentioned restocking. That implies a source."

  "There is a planet devoted to dragons. Go to Dragon World; it is one of the Moons of Ida. There should be plenty there for this purpose. However, there may be a problem."