Currant Events

by Piers Anthony

  "He didn't think of it. I distracted him by reminding him of the garden. Ogres are proud of their stupidity, with good reason; they can't entertain two thoughts at the same time. Actually they are not bad folk, once you understand them. They don't even speak in dull rhyme among themselves; it is only the ignorant who hear them that way, expecting no better."

  "But you heard him in rhyme."

  "I didn't want to socialize with him, so I kept it basic. Another time may be different."

  "At least you have handled your danger for today," Drusie said.

  "I don't believe so. The ogre was never a threat to me. That's why I was so bold in bracing him."

  "So your danger is still to come?"

  "Yes, I believe so."

  "Then when it's done you'll be able to relax."

  "No. Actually there is no maximum limit; I can encounter more than one danger in a day. Just never less than one. So I must be on constant guard."

  "That's one mean curse," the dragon said.

  Clio nodded. "I am accustomed to it. But it is another reason I'm generally not keen on leaving Mount Parnassus."

  They came to the man, who was standing still with the tiny dragon perched on his shoulder. Drew had given her time to talk with the ogre without encountering the man at the same time, thus avoiding another bashing sequence.

  He looked up and saw her. "Hello, Muse; I am honored to meet you."

  "I told him all about you," Drew said proudly. "And how you just saved him from getting bashed by Bash Ogre."

  Clio sighed inwardly. She would have to caution the dragons about saying too much to strangers. She preferred to introduce herself, and to keep personal information to herself unless making it known was warranted.

  "Oops, sorry," Drew said contritely.

  "I am glad to meet you," Clio said somewhat insincerely to the man. "There was a problem, so I abated it."

  "The telepathic dragon says that you wound time backward so as to spare me mischief. To what do I owe this considerable favor?"

  "I am not sure." Now she really looked at him for the first time, and saw that he was an unprepossessing middle-aged man of dark countenance. "You look familiar; have you been a significant character before?"

  "Oh, yes. I am Sherlock, of the Black Wave. I made one of your volumes when I traveled with Dug Mundane twelve years ago, helping him play his game while I searched for a suitable region for the Wave to settle. That turned out to be around Lake OgreChobee. We normally get along well with ogres; I find it hard to believe that I affronted one, or will do so."

  Sherlock. Yes, he was a decent man from Mundania who would now be about forty-five. He should have settled down and married long since, instead of wandering out here in nowhere. "I remember you now. I agree; you are not likely to give offense to anyone. Yet it seems you did to that ogre, by changing aspects of his garden."

  "I wouldn't know how to change a garden." Sherlock paused, considering. "But I can't say I'm surprised. Weird things have been happening around me. That's why my people no longer wanted me around. No one wants me around for long."

  "We must explore this," Clio said. "Because I was guided to you. I do not know why, but of course the things set in motion by the Good Magician are often devious."

  "I agree. Maybe he made a mistake this time. I'm really a person of no account, and I wouldn't want to cause you any mischief, Muse. I appreciate the good work you are doing. So I think I should just be on my way before anything else happens."

  Clio glanced at her wrist. The blue arrow still pointed to the man. "No, we have business together, and it behooves us to discover what it is.

  "No offense, but I find that hard to believe. You are an important person and are surely wasting your time with me."

  Clio smiled. "Let's find out." She looked around, and saw a couch potato. She sat in it, and it was comfortable. "Join me, please."

  Sherwood shrugged and sat beside her. But as he did, the cool soft couch suddenly became burning hot. Both of them leaped out. The thing was now a hot potato.

  "That must be your danger," Drusie said.

  "I doubt it; I didn't need to wind back to get out of it."

  "It's happening again," Sherlock said, dismayed, as he brushed off his hot backside. "Really, you don't want to associate with me any longer, Muse."

  "I believe I do," Clio said firmly, though her own backside was none too comfortable. Had it not been insulated by the curvy nymph bark, she could have been burned. "It is quite possible that whatever mischief is besieging you is the reason I was sent to meet you. We merely have to establish what it is."

  "Maybe so," he agreed. "I'd certainly like to know what's wrong with me."

  They found separate stones to sit on. "Please describe exactly what effects you have noted."

  "That's hard to do, because they're all different and they don't make any sense I can see."

  "Start at the beginning. When was the first untoward incident?"

  "I'm not even sure about that. In retrospect things I took for coincidence seem not to have been. Maybe it was the beans."

  "Beans?"

  "I harvested some garden-variety beans from the garden and brought them in for the communal pot. We elder Black Wave folk don't have magic, though our children do, so we have to do things the mundane way. But when we started eating the beans, we all went into violent coughing fits. They were coughee beans."

  "Why in Xanth would you harvest that kind of bean? Didn't you recognize them?"

  "I do recognize them. What I picked were ordinary beans, not magical ones. I'm sure of it. But somehow they turned out to be the wrong kind. Some thought I did it on purpose, and others thought I was incompetent. I wasn't allowed to harvest beans anymore."

  Clio glanced at the couch-sized hot potato, which seemed to be cooling. "I am sure that was a couch potato when I sat in it. It changed when you touched it. So I can believe that the beans changed."

  "Thank you. But how? I couldn't do such magic if I wanted to. I don't think there's an evil Magician following me around; why would he bother?"

  "That is a good question." She considered. "I have two friends, one of whom you met: Drew Dragon. They are telepathic. They can check to see if there are any other minds nearby, and what their intentions are. Dragons?"

  "On it," Drusie said.

  "Meanwhile," Clio continued, "what else has happened in your vicinity?"

  "Another day I harvested onions. But when I brought them in, they turned out to be credit onions."

  "I am not familiar with that kind."

  "It's not edible. It's active only on weekdays, nine to five. You have to open an account, and there's a penalty for early withdrawal. So we couldn't even get rid of them. After that I wasn't allowed to harvest anything. No one believed I hadn't done it on purpose. I don't even know what a credit onion is, just that it's supposed to pay interest. How do you pay interest? You're either interested in something or you aren't."

  "I believe they have ways in Mundania, where a person may pretend interest in order to flatter another. This certainly looks like magic. What else happened?"

  "We had two grand trees by the entrance to our settlement, that made anyone who touched them feel good. One was the loyal tree; the other was the royal tree. I was feeling rejected, so I went out and touched them both. After that they were a disloyal tree and a peasant tree. That was when I was asked to leave the settlement."

  "Did that solve the problem?"

  "Perhaps it did, for them. Not for me. I had not gone far before I encountered a man and a woman, twins. The man's talent was to manipulate bodies, while the woman manipulated minds. But after they met me, he found he couldn't handle demons, and she couldn't affect the minds of nymphs or ogres. They were most annoyed, and refused to have anything more to do with me."

  "Perhaps that was just as well," Clio said. "Those talents could be dangerous if they lacked limits."

  "Maybe so. They were planning to conquer Xanth, but now are afraid they
won't be able to do it. I really didn't mean to interfere, but somehow I must have."

  "We have found no hostile minds within range," Drusie reported. "Just several human girls having a picnic. We think they're harmless."

  "We had better be sure," Clio said. "Who are they and what are their talents?"

  "They are the sisters Lon Leigh, who stops loneliness for others, and Luv Leigh, who makes anything lovely. Their friends are Re Joyce, who gives folk joy—"

  "She's very pretty, for a human," Drew said.

  "And Inertia, who makes things stay at rest, or stay in motion. That's an odd talent."

  "But not one that would account for the mischief Sherlock has encountered," Clio concluded. "The others seem innocuous also. There are no others nearby?"

  "There's a child and an animal," Drew said. "Do they count?"

  "They may. Describe them."

  "One is a six-year-old Mundane girl named Stephanie. She had—they took knives and cut her throat—"

  "They do that in Mundania," Clio said. "It's called surgery."

  "To take something out. But they weren't supposed to, and she kept on bleeding. Then she found herself here without her family. She was very confused. But then a horse named Angel found her, and gave her a ride, and she's feeling better now. They're both lost, and looking for their homes."

  Clio felt a chill. "They won't find them. They live in Xanth now."

  Sherlock glanced at her, and did not comment. He understood. The two dragons read her mind, and understood.

  They heard footfalls. The horse was coming this way. They paused in their dialogue, sitting on their stones.

  The horse appeared, a mare, walking carefully along the path. A chubby child with pigtails was on her back. The horse saw the people and stopped, sending a glance at Clio, as if asking directions.

  "She knows the child is as lost as she is," Drusie said. "She needs to know where both of them should go."

  There would be time enough for them to learn the truth. "Continue the way you are going," Clio said. "You will intersect an enchanted path. You will be safe on that, and there will be rest stops with all you need, including places to eat, wash, and sleep. Continue until you reach Castle Roogna. Three little princesses there will help you."

  Angel Horse nodded and walked on. In Xanth, animals could understand a lot more than they could in Mundania. They would get there in a few days, and the princesses would be glad to help them.

  Now they got back to business. "So we have ascertained that there are no hostile influences in the neighborhood," Clio said. "That means it must be something associated with you. Have you any idea what it might be?"

  He laughed. "Not unless I'm haunted."

  "Have you considered magic?"

  "You mean, magic I do? Remember, I'm from Mundania."

  "There is something you may not be aware of, as it isn't widely known. Mundanes who remain in Xanth for a sufficient time can develop magic talents of their own. It can take a decade or so, but it happens. Often they don't realize it because they are so sure they lack magic that they never look for it. So, like the centaurs of Centaur Isle, they live in ignorance of their true abilities."

  He stared at her. "You're telling me I may have a magic talent?"

  "I believe it likely. This would account for the effects you have been experiencing."

  "I find this hard to believe."

  "I appreciate that. If you wish, we can experiment to see if we can identify its nature."

  "Well, I wouldn't want to take your time."

  "I believe that for the moment you are my business, Sherlock. So I need to take the time to ascertain the situation."

  "In that case, thank you, and I'll try to cooperate to make it as efficient as possible. I know you have other things to do."

  She knew he wasn't being facetious; he was a nice man, and she found herself liking him. "Now these effects have been significant changes in the natures of things you have touched, like beans or onions as well as the potato. And of course there were the problems in the ogre's garden."

  "Ogre's garden? Oh, yes, the little dragon told me."

  "I did," Drew agreed.

  "Things were changing, even becoming the opposites of what they had been." Clio paused as a bulb flashed over her head. "Opposites: that suggests reversal. Could there be reverse wood? Do you carry a chip of that?"

  "Like this?" Sherlock asked, a chip of wood appearing in his hand. Then he stared at it. "How did that happen?"

  "I believe you conjured it," Clio said. "That may be your magic. Can you do it again, intentionally?"

  "I'm sure I can't. Maybe it just dropped into my hand from above."

  There was nothing but sky above them. "Try, Sherlock."

  He concentrated—and a bolt of wood appeared in his hand, so big and solid it dropped to the ground before him.

  Drew had been perching on the man's shoulder. He dropped too, and lay on the ground, looking changed.

  "Drew!" Drusie exclaimed, flying to him. Then she too dropped.

  "Drew! Drusie! Are you all right?" Clio asked. They didn't answer. Then she saw that they looked like lizards.

  "It is reverse wood," she said. "It nullified them. Quick, abolish it!"

  The wood disappeared. Sherlock stared again. "I didn't know I could do that."

  The two tiny dragons recovered. "That was awful," Drew said. "Suddenly I was a dumb animal."

  "So was I," Drusie said. "If that's reverse wood, I want nothing to do with it."

  "That was a lot of reverse wood," Clio said. "I don't believe I've ever seen so large a chunk; normally it's tiny chips." She looked at Sherlock. "I believe we have discovered your magic talent: conjuring reverse wood."

  "I am amazed."

  "It will surely be a useful talent, as you learn to bring it under control. Since we have established that you can abolish it as well as summon it, control should be easy."

  "I'll practice," Sherlock agreed, looking dazed.

  "Certainly you will not want to be aggravating ogres in the future; that's dangerous." Clio considered. "However, you should also be able to use your talent in self-defense. A chip of reverse wood might make an ogre weak, so that he could not bash you."

  "I suppose that would help, but I would prefer to stay clear of ogres regardless."

  Clio smiled. "Of course. Perhaps you have some private place in mind, where you can practice undisturbed."

  Sherlock shrugged. "I'll find one. This is all so amazing!" He stood, and looked around.

  "He's confused," Drew reported. "He has no idea where to go."

  Clio glanced at her compass. It was still pointing to Sherlock. She sighed. "Perhaps I can help you further," she said. "Would you like to travel with us for a time?"

  "I don't want to be a—"

  "I'm sure you can make yourself useful, as you did when traveling with Dug Mundane."

  "But you have better things to do!"

  "Sherlock, there is an indication that I am not through with you. So it behooves me to follow my own course, which seems at the moment to be to make a continuing effort to help you find yours. Please travel with us, at least for today."

  He shrugged. "I will, then."

  "He's much relieved," Drew reported. "He believes that you know many more answers than he does."

  Clio hoped so. "Then let's move on and find a place to spend the night, as the day is getting late." She wasn't entirely easy about camping with a man, even one she knew to be decent, but this was where her compass led her. Apparently only when she resolved his problem would she be free to resume her quest for the Currant.

  They followed the path in the direction Clio had indicated for the girl and horse, and in due course reached the enchanted path. They followed it to the camping area. The girl and horse weren't there; apparently they had elected to continue traveling, now that they had a safe path and a place to go.

  Sherlock did make himself useful, while Clio relaxed. He fetched wood for a fire, and fo
raged for suitable pies and water. Soon they had heated pot pies, which were of course in the shape of little pots.

  "Well, now." It was a voice from nowhere.

  "A demon!" Drusie said. "That must be your danger."

  "Hello, Metria," Sherlock said.

  "No danger," Clio said to the dragon. "I know her."

  "Bleep, you recognized me," Metria said. A swirl of smoke formed and condensed into the shapely demoness. "I had hoped to be isolation."

  "Hoped to be what?"

  "Closeted, inmost, intimate, privy, undefined—"

  "Incognito?"

  "Whatever," she agreed crossly. "How did you recognize me?"

  "How could I fail to know such an adorable creature?"

  The demoness looked less cross. "Our paths must have crossed before."

  "On occasion," Sherlock agreed.

  "Who's your friend?"

  "Clio, the Muse of History."

  Metria looked, and puffed into fragments in her surprise. "So it is! Something interesting must be happening."

  "It may be," Clio agreed wryly.

  "I make it a point to get into every new history volume, with as big a part as I can swing."

  "I had suspected that." Indeed, it explained a lot. Clio hadn't been aware of that effort, but Metria had appeared in many recent volumes, once as the lead character.

  "You aren't going to write me out of this volume, are you?"

  "I seem to be in this volume myself. It's not my business to write folk in or out, merely to record what happens."

  "Things are happening all over, all the time. You select which ones are worthy of writing about. That gives you horrible power."

  Clio was taken aback. "I don't see it that way, though some people do joke that I might write them out of a volume."

  "It's no jolly."

  Clio tried to resist, but couldn't. "It's no what?"

  "Wisecrack, caper, absurdity, fooling, banter—"

  "Joke, you idiot! I just used the word."

  "Whatever," the demoness agreed, frowning. "You do have that power. So what do I have to do to be sure you don't abolish me from the scene?"

  Clio considered. "Maybe you can help. We're trying to clarify Sherlock's magic talent."

  "He conjures reverse wood."