Currant Events

by Piers Anthony

  Clio hastened to oblige. "Xanth is running out of dragons. Ours generally don't have souls, and some ailment is taking them out, so we need new dragons, with souls."

  "We are nothing but souls," the black dragon said. "What we lack are bodies."

  "We are arranging to make bodies from organic material," Clio said. "So that you can animate them. Then you will have all Xanth to roam. Of course there will be some limits—"

  "I have heard enough," he said gruffly.

  "But—"

  "How many can you take?"

  "You're agreeing?"

  "Of course. We have way too many dragons here, and are eager for new hunting grounds. Especially in reality. We would all go, if we could."

  "We need five pairs of each type. That is, males and females, so they can—"

  "We know what they can do. There are six hundred twenty-five types of land dragon. You'll take ten of each, evenly divided in gender?"

  "Yes, that is what we want." She could hardly believe it was so easy, after the problem getting him to listen.

  "He knew your business," Drew said. "He just wanted to see your tender feet."

  "He made me indulge in the pun contest, just to—?" She was overwhelmed by annoyance as she put her socks and shoes back on.

  Then the dragons started laughing. After two moments, Clio and Becka were obliged to join in. It had been a good joke, in dragon terms.

  "That's six thousand, two hundred fifty dragons," the black dragon continued as the laugh subsided. "How are you going to transport them all to Xanth?"

  "Why, when we're done here, we'll just expand back to where we came from, and—" She paused as the dragon shook his head. "And you didn't come from Xanth. You can't do that."

  "You're smart, for a human. You had better get some practical advice, while I select the pairs with the privilege of going. Shall we meet again, here, in one day's time?"

  "But I have other dragons to contact. The flying, the swimming—"

  "Not until you get ours on the way. It will be enough of a traffic jam as it is."

  He was right. She didn't know what to do.

  "We know," Drusie said. "We'll ask Princess Ida."

  "But she's way back in Xanth!"

  "Our Princess Ida," Drew clarified.

  "Oh. Of course. We'll talk to her."

  Becka changed to dragon form, a feat that impressed the congregation of dragons. Clio got on, and she took off. She trusted Drew and Drusie to know where they were going.

  They lifted above the belly and flew on toward the tail. This was another long flight, but her dialog with Drew and Drusie made it interesting. They had much information about Dragon World, and were very curious about Xanth. But there was one thing that bothered Clio.

  "You say the black dragon knew my mission all along," she said. "I had understood that you were guarding my mental privacy."

  "I was," Drew said defensively. "No one got it from you."

  "Or from Becka," Drusie said. "I guarded her."

  "Then how did it get out? Could someone have read your minds?"

  "No, we automatically protect our own minds," Drew said.

  "From the moment we discovered our commitment to you," Drusie added.

  "That small dragon who un-ate you," Becka said. Her thought was relayed as speech by the little dragons. "Could he have done it, just before you started guarding?"

  "No, he's not a telepath," Drew said. "He was mentally invisible."

  "What about some other dragon in the region?" Clio asked. "Just lying there listening?"

  "There could have been," Drew agreed. "We are short-range telepaths, being small. Big ones can range much farther. We weren't guarding our thoughts, and you weren't guarding yours."

  "It could have happened then," Drusie agreed. "A big land dragon could have picked up enough from your minds, and relayed it to others as a matter of general interest."

  "So by now the whole planet knows our business," Becka said, disgusted.

  "Actually it doesn't need to be secret," Clio said. "I was more concerned that dragons might be reading our minds despite your protection. That would make the pun contests dangerous."

  "They aren't doing that," Drew assured her.

  Reassured, Clio relaxed. She would continue to play the game of puns if that was what the dragons wanted, knowing that they would in the end consider her proposal. Since it was apparent that dragons were eager to become real in Xanth, she knew her mission was bound to be a success. But they would make her go through the motions.

  There were flying dragons in the sky, large and small, but none of them approached aggressively. That suggested that they did know her business, and were making a point of not interfering with it. That, too, was reassuring.

  Now they were flying along the thinning tail section of the dragon world. Since the world was coiled, this was bringing them back toward the head. Clio was not as alarmed about this as she had been the first time. Now she knew that despite its horrendous shape, it was just a planet, not a living creature.

  They were flying above the great eye. It winked.

  Clio almost fell off her perch.

  "It does that," Drew said. "Our world knows what is going on, and it can read any mind it chooses to. But it never reveals secrets. It just watches. I think it likes you."

  "That's nice," Clio said faintly. "But we were on that eye. It was solid land and water. How could it wink without disrupting everything, causing earthquakes and storms?"

  "Illusion," Drusie said. "The folk down there would not even have been aware of the wink. It was just for us."

  "This world grows more interesting by the hour."

  "Well, we like it," Drew said. "We wouldn't want to leave it, if only other dragons accepted our relationship."

  A small portion of the tail extended beyond the clamping teeth. They flew along this, then glided down to the very tip. Tiny as that seemed from afar, it was like the broad peak of a very tall mountain as they landed. Becka returned to human form, with Drusie in her pocket.

  They stood before a modest house. Princess Ida had never been much for show. In fact she was just about the nicest person in Xanth, and her character seemed to be the same on the tiered moons.

  The door opened and a dragon peered out. Clio was appalled; had Ida been eaten by a rogue?

  "By no means, Clio," the dragon said, utilizing the same thought conversion Drew and Drusie did. "I am Ida."

  "But you're a dragon!"

  "Well, this is Dragon World. We're all dragons here, except for the prey."

  Clio realized that it did make sense. After all, there was a tiny moon circling her head: the next derivative world. "I apologize for my confusion. On Xanth, you're human."

  "And if you lived here, you'd be a dragon. Do come in, Clio, Becka, Drew, Drusie."

  They entered her house, which was more like a big nest inside. There were gemstones galore; dragons did like them. They sat on giant diamonds.

  "And what brings you here, from far Xanth?" Ida inquired politely. Obviously she knew, but was observing the forms.

  "We are recruiting dragons to replace the ones Xanth is losing," Clio said. "We have recruited more than six thousand land dragons of every type. We are arranging for bodies for them in Xanth. Now we need to transport them safely there."

  "Ah, of course. It's a long way, in size. I believe you will need a net."

  "A net?" Clio asked blankly.

  "A dragon net. I have a number, saved for this purpose." Ida smiled at Clio's evident confusion. "This is not the first time dragons have emigrated to another world. This is after all the source world for dragons; they need a convenient way to reach their destination worlds." She lifted one foot, showing a small net in the shape of a bag. "This should do."

  "But some of those dragons are big!" Clio protested. "And there are so many of them. This would barely do for the smallest."

  "It stretches," Ida said patiently.

  "She knows what she's doing," Drew t
hought privately.

  It wouldn't be polite to doubt her further. Clio took the little net and tucked it into her other breast pocket. "Once the dragons are in the net, how is it transported to Xanth?"

  "A Xanth native will have to guide it there in the usual manner," Clio said. "Hold it and will yourself home. You will expand and find yourself there, in my Xanthly study. Do not release the dragons until you are safely beyond the castle, in the neighborhood of their new bodies. Someone will have to assist them in occupying them, because they have never been truly physical before."

  "I'll help," Becka said. "And Che Centaur will be there. He's organizing the bodies now; he's very smart."

  "That will surely work," Ida agreed. Clio remembered that her talent was the idea, but that she could not originate ideas; once another person who did not know her talent expressed an idea, Ida could agree, and then it was so. Becka evidently did not know, so that was fine.

  "But there are more dragons to come," Becka said. "How will I return here for them?"

  "Once you have been the route, it is easier to repeat it," Ida said. "Merely return to my Xanth persona and think of Dragon World, and you will soon be here."

  That seemed to cover it. "Thank you so much," Clio said, somewhat awkwardly.

  "Just remember me in your history of the experience."

  "I certainly will! This entire world is so remarkable it will take three chapters. I never liked dragons before, but my outlook is changing entirely."

  "Experience does that," Ida agreed.

  They left the house, Becka changed, and they took off for the next meeting, which the dragons said was with the water dragons. This turned out to be not far away, as it was in that wet nose of the planetary dragon. They simply flew across from the tip of the tail to the nose.

  It loomed hugely: two enormous nostrils filled with what Clio hoped was water. They landed on an island formed of what she hoped was land. Clio dismounted, Becka changed to girl form, and they stood on the tiny atoll. All around was a thickly rippling sea, filled with swimming dragons of all colors and sizes.

  A giant head lifted from the water. It was as big as the whole isle. That made Clio nervous, but she reminded herself that the dragons probably weren't really interested in chomping her. They wanted to play the game of puns, then hear her spiel.

  Then a long rope-like tongue snaked out, looped around her body, and lifted her in the air. Clio screamed as she was carried toward one monstrous eye. This time she got a good seven E's into it and two K's, her personal record, along with a doubled exclamation point. "EEEEEEEKK!!"

  "It's all right," Drew hastily reassured her. "She just wants to get a better look at you."

  That spared her the effort of winding back the scene. "But that tongue!"

  "It's her weapon. There are five types of weapon: fire, smoke, steam, suction, and the prehensile tongue. But she's not going to chomp you."

  "Indeed I am not," the dragoness said mentally. "I know your business, and am interested. But the school would be disappointed if we did not play the game out properly. Present your first pun." And the tongue lowered Clio gently to the ground and released her.

  The tongue as a weapon. Clio would have been less impressed if she had not just experienced its competence. The dragon could reach quickly out and snare prey and haul it in to the mouth before it knew what was happening. Fire could toast, smoke could suffocate, steam could cook, but none of them actually brought a fresh morsel to the mouth. Suction would have similar ability. On Xanth the last two categories did not exist.

  But she had a pun to present. What would do? She took the first one she remembered; it might not be the best, but it would do. The picture of a human woman appeared, in the air over the water. She was walking, but one leg was shorter than the other, so that she tilted to one side at about a thirty degree angle. "What is her name?" she asked.

  "Rumple-tilt-skin," the dragon guessed.

  "That's clever, but no."

  "Angle."

  Sounding like Angel. "Again, no."

  "Tilta."

  As in Tilda. "Sorry."

  "That's three guesses; I lost. What is it?"

  "Eileen."

  There was a moment of silence. Then the sounding dragons laughed, blowing water and steam into the air. "I Lean!" the dragoness said. "Very nice." A Scoreboard appeared, with one water ball in the column marked MORSELS. She was certainly a good sport.

  It was the dragon's turn. A field of vines appeared, with large yellow blossoms. They looked innocent, but then a small dragon swam in a canal and reached out to sniff a flower. It closed on the dragon's snout, and compressed it to a tiny portion of its former size. The dragon fled with its miniature snout. Then a flying dragon came to land in the field, and several blossoms closed on it, squeezing its feet so hard that they became mere stubs. "What are they?" the dragon asked.

  This was new to Clio. She had encountered carnivorous plants, but not carnivorous flowers. Though these flowers weren't actually eating creatures, just squeezing them awfully. Regardless, there did not seem to be anything funny about it. Where was the pun?

  The flowers resembled those of the dreaded gourds. Was this a gourd reference? But gourds used their fruits to trap people, not their flowers.

  "I'm afraid I don't get it," she confessed.

  "Squash blossoms." A water ball appeared on the dragon's side of the Scoreboard.

  Clio knocked her head with the heel of her hand. That was obvious! How could she have missed it? But that was the nature of puns: they were obvious in retrospect, seldom in foresight.

  Her turn. She remembered a thoroughly nasty teacher she had once encountered. The picture showed a human man of ugly middle age, standing before a class. "Now this is an ass," he said, and showed a picture of the midsection of a human female as seen from the rear. The girls in the class looked shocked. The man laughed. "Haven't you dolls seen one of these before? Look in the mirror, you &&&&s!"

  That was too much. Three girls fainted, and the rest walked out of the class. Even the boys looked dismayed. "You'll never pass this %%%% course!" he yelled after them.

  The class continued, with the teacher presenting crude subjects and cussing out anyone who tried to object. "Who is the teacher?" Clio asked at last.

  The dragoness considered. "I'm not sure what was considered indecent about such a fresh meaty rump," she remarked. "I would have snapped it up in half an instant." She pondered. "But I suppose the point is he was abusing the sensitivities of his students. I could see they didn't like him. No dragon would do that; it's much better just to chomp them, sparing them humiliation."

  Clio realized that this dragon was not a bad person; she merely had a dragon perspective. "Yes, he's an abusive instructor who swears at his students. That is the point, not the, uh, rump."

  "Bad teacher," the dragon said. "Abusive instructor. Profane professor." Then a lightbulb flashed over their heads. "Professor Profanity! Prof. Anity. Profanity."

  Clio realized she should have kept her mouth shut. "That's it. Another for you." The board showed 2 to 1 in favor of the dragon.

  Now the dragon made a picture. It was of an aerial view of a section of the planet. These were not flying dragons, but with telepathy they surely had garnered such images from their cousins the flying dragons. The land was thickly forested, interspersed by clearings. Then an odd thing happened: the clearings started moving. That was technically unlikely, because a clearing was a region where trees did not grow. How could trees ungrow like that, and suddenly regrow as the clearing moved on?

  Yet it seemed to be so. The clearings converged on one region until they were thickly clustered. The day brightened, then faded, and the fields moved back toward their original places. They had gathered for just one day.

  And she had it: "Field day! The fields made a field trip for it."

  The board showed 2 to 2. She was even again.

  She cast about for another pun to use, but her mind was stubbornly blank. All she co
uld think of was a dirty one, and she didn't want that. But since she couldn't remember a clean one, she had to use it.

  The picture formed, this time showing the sea around them, complete with swimming dragons. A ship sailed into view, causing the dragons in the picture to stare because they had never seen one before. She rather liked that touch. But they surely knew of ships from other travelers. That was important.

  The ship expanded to take up the whole scene. The view focused on the highest deck at the stern. There were small flying dragons coming in and depositing their digestive wastes on it, splattering the clean wood. They were dropping their turds and flying on. That was all.

  The dragoness peered at the image. "Why would any dragon do a thing like that to such a rare vessel? It's disgusting?"

  "It's a disgusting pun," Clio said. "What's going on?"

  "I don't even care to guess! Get rid of it."

  The scene faded. "You are giving up?"

  "On this one."

  "It's the poop deck."

  There was a mental shout of laughter from a number of the younger male dragons. Their mothers hastily shushed them. The score went to 3 to 1 in favor of the morsels.

  The dragon formed a picture of a tree. It looked like a fig tree, but instead of figs its fruits were little globes of air. A dragon came by and ate several, and licked its lips as if they were tasty, but they didn't seem to be very filling. That was all.

  Clio gazed at it, but didn't get it. It was amazing how many puns were new to her; apparently they flowed from some inexhaustible font of base humor, so that no matter how many she remembered, there were always more she hadn't encountered. Eating globes of air instead of figs? In fact they seemed on closer inspection to be entirely imaginary. So what was the point?

  "I give up," she said. "It makes no sense to me."

  "Figments." The score went to 3 to 2, still her favor.

  Fig mints. Imaginary figs, unfilling because they had no substance. How could she have missed that? She was disgusted with herself.

  Her turn again. Her picture showed an old human woman walking with difficulty, evidently lame. Then a huge yellow citrus fruit walked up on little legs, and used little arms to help the woman make progress. She thanked the fruit as she reached her home. That was all.