Currant Events

by Piers Anthony

  She tried to wind it back, but there was no magic. She was stuck. She had thought she could provoke the danger, identify it, then unwind it and avoid or nullify it. She had truly fouled up.

  Then she saw a familiar figure: a very old centaur. "Bsopmef!" she cried. And paused, amazed; it had come out all wrong. Then she remembered: she couldn't even speak intelligibly in Mundania.

  But the centaur heard her and glanced her way. Then he walked across. "You must have touched the hyperlink," he said. "It instantly transports folk to another location."

  "Arnolde!" she repeated, and this time it came out right, because she was in his aisle of magic. She felt Drew recover his dragon identity. "I'm so glad to see you!"

  "I shouldn't have left the chain there," he said apologetically. "I expected to be right back, and to move it before anyone blundered into it, but my errand proved to be more complicated than I expected."

  So it was not intended to be a danger, except that her curse had made it so. At least now she could unwind it, because of his magic ambience. Or could she? She might unwind only to her passage through Mundania, and stall out in that dearth of magic. She was still in trouble.

  She would have to figure out another way. "I am Clio, the Muse of History. I did touch the hyperlink. I should have known better. But perhaps I can accompany you back to Xanth, when you return."

  "I shall be happy to take you back, Muse," he said.

  "What is your errand here, and how did it complicate?"

  "Demon Earth came to me in a vision, and asked me to speak to David Baldwin on his behalf. It seems the Demon has an interest in a certain young Mundane woman—"

  "Jaylin," Clio said, remembering. "She visited Xanth and helped with the Swell Foop. But she has a boyfriend."

  "David Baldwin," he agreed. "It seems that the Demoness Fornax has a connection with Jaylin, and Demon Earth thought he might develop a similar connection with David. That way he could have a certain relationship by proxy, since Jaylin is not interested in any further association with a Demon."

  "And David isn't interested either," she said, seeing the problem.

  "Yes. As you know, my talent is to have an aisle of magic in Mundania. I had assumed it was some concentration of magic within me, but it seems it is facilitated by natural energy of the Demon Earth. His magic is gravity, and it seems I draw on that, translating its energy to magic. He promises to greatly enhance it, if I am successful in persuading David to cooperate. I am no longer young, and would like to have that enhancement."

  Indeed, Arnolde was no longer young; he was 135 years old, prevented from fading out only by magic and some Fountain of Youth Elixir the Good Magician had provided. She appreciated his interest.

  "Perhaps I can help," she said. "Rather, my friend Drew can help."

  "Glad to," Drew said. "How?"

  "Telepathically convey my identity and sincerity as I talk to David."

  "Talking isn't sufficient," Arnolde said. "I just tried. David doesn't like the idea of a Demon snooping on his romantic life."

  "That is understandable, but I fear he doesn't have a choice. Take us to him."

  "This way," Arnolde said. He led the way to a nearby house. Mundanes were in the area, but they paid no attention. "I have a disinterest spell," the centaur explained. "Otherwise I would attract unwelcome attention."

  "The Demon Earth is watching," Drew said to Clio.

  She glanced around and spied a cloud forming. It did not look natural, and it certainly wasn't Fracto. "Tell him I'm helping Arnolde make his plea, but he must agree to my condition."

  The cloud hovered, not necessarily agreeing.

  Arnolde knocked on the door. David Baldwin answered. He was a handsome young man of twenty. "I'm sorry, Arnolde, but as I said before—" Then he saw Clio. "Hello."

  "Hello, David. I am Clio, the Muse of History. This is Drew Dragon, who is telepathic. He will connect our minds so that you will know that you can trust what I say."

  David looked surprised and dubious. Then he nodded as Drew connected. "I know it, Clio."

  "When Jaylin went to Xanth, she interacted with demons, and there are some residual effects. The Demoness Fornax retains a certain association; you may have noticed."

  "Yes, it sure changed Jaylin! But I like her this way."

  "Demoness Fornax has no interest in Jaylin's long-term welfare, or yours. She merely seeks an avenue to increase her status at the expense of other demons. You dare not deal with her alone."

  "Well, I'm not."

  "When you are with Jaylin, you may also be with the Demoness. Working through Jaylin, she has resources to put you into heaven—"

  "I have had some of that, with Jaylin."

  "Or hell. At her whim."

  David paused reflectively. "I hadn't thought of it that way. You're right; she could. What Jaylin has told me of the Demons scares me."

  "You need a Demon with similar powers on your side, to neutralize the Demoness."

  He nodded. "I do. As long as he doesn't foul me up."

  "Demon Earth promises merely to observe, and to act only to neutralize the ploys of the demoness." She glanced at the sky. "Doesn't he?"

  The cloud dissipated. "Yes," Drew said.

  David nodded. "Okay, I agree."

  "Thank you," Clio said. "We'll return to Xanth now."

  "I feel stronger," Arnolde said. "The Demon is lending me more energy."

  "Demons do keep their deals," Clio said.

  Arnolde invoked the return hyperlink he carried, and suddenly they were back in Xanth. There were introductions, with Chele Centaur looking startled and shy, for Arnolde was a legend among centaurs. Then Arnolde removed the chain, and they resumed their journey. Clio had navigated another danger, and perhaps done some good in the process.

  They moved well, thanks to their galloping steeds, and by midday reached Com Pewter's cave. There was an invisible giant there, about to herd them into the cave, but the little dragons flew up to get within telepathic range of his unseen head and informed him that they were there on important business. "Okay," he boomed, and tromped away.

  They dismounted and entered the cave while Chele and Danielle, in human form, conversed amicably outside. The unicorn girl did not touch the centaur, but otherwise had no special problem with her. It seemed it was male nonvirgins that were her main problem.

  A troll came to greet them. "Pewter is not available at the moment," he said. "Please go away."

  "Why hello, Tristan," Clio said. "I am Clio, the Muse of History, here on business. Whatever is the matter?"

  "Clio!" the troll said, recognizing her. "Maybe you can help. There's a terrible problem. Look."

  They looked. There was snow and ice on the machine's screen, which said CRASH FAULT in frigid print against a cold blue background.

  "Why Pewter's frozen!" Clio said, astonished. "What happened?"

  "I don't know. The ice just suddenly appeared and he stopped communicating. I've been trying to help him recover, but he's completely nonresponsive."

  "I have heard of this sort of thing," Sherlock said. "I think he got a virus or a bug. Tell us exactly what occurred, step by step."

  "Well, he was on the Outernet, and he found a Data Base. The pictures showed folk in military uniforms running around, Facts and Figures. The Facts were in trousers, the Figures in dresses."

  "Male and female," Sherlock said.

  "He picked up something there. Then his screen started going crazy, letters started falling out of his printed words and piling up at the bottom of the screen, and I knew he was in trouble. I tried to go for his icons, because that's where he keeps his virus antidote, but whenever I reached for one, it danced away and I couldn't catch it. Then he froze up really cold, as you see."

  Sherlock nodded. "He's got a bug all right. A clever one, that knew to elude his defenses. We have to get it out."

  "Yes, but how?"

  Sherlock looked around. "How do you clean up the cave?"

  "You mean when
Passion and Terian come? I sweep it out and wash off the surfaces."

  "I was thinking more like a vacuum cleaner."

  "Oh, yes, I use that too."

  "Fetch it."

  Tristan went into the back of the cave. "I hope whatever you have in mind is viable," Clio said.

  "It should be. Drusie, have you located the bug?"

  "Yes. It is hiding deep in the works."

  "Keep tracking it."

  Tristan returned with the vacuum cleaner. "I am not clear what good this will do in this instance."

  "We'll need to lift Pewter up so Clio can vacuum beneath."

  This was more curious by the minute. But she played along. Sherlock and the troll carefully heaved the machine up, and she turned on the vacuum and sucked the dust out from Pewter's bottom. There was a fair amount.

  "Drusie?" Sherlock inquired.

  "He's hanging on so as not to get sucked up," she said. "He's very smart, for a bug."

  "Now reverse the vacuum," Sherlock told Clio. He and Tristan were still holding Pewter up in the air.

  "But that will—" Then she grasped his strategy. She changed the switch, and suddenly instead of sucking it was blowing warm air out.

  There was a flutter and something was blown out the other side. Drusie launched herself from Sherlock's pocket and snapped it out of the air. One crunch of her jaws, and it was gone. She had gotten the bug, which had been caught by surprise by the sudden reversal of air.

  They set Pewter down. Then Clio played the jet of warm air across his screen until the snow and ice melted. Pewter was no longer frozen.

  The print clarified. THAT WAS AWFUL.

  "We got the bug out," Tristan said. "The Muse of History and her friend Sherlock are here to see you. They saved you from freezing."

  The print organized itself, swept up the loose letters remaining at the bottom of the screen, and Pewter reverted to normal. WHAT IS YOUR BUSINESS HERE, MUSE?

  It was perhaps too much to expect gratitude from the machine. "I need to establish contact with Counter Xanth. I understand you have the conversion code to send to your daughter Com Panion."

  WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?

  "A compatible placement for your son Com Pound," she answered evenly.

  That set the machine back. WHERE?

  "With Mount Pinatuba, facilitating his communication with Mount Pinafore in Counter Xanth. It is surely a significant post."

  Grudgingly, Pewter acknowledged that. FETCH POUND.

  Tristan took the vacuum away and returned with another small machine. "Hello, Pound," Clio said.

  An image of a hammer appeared on the little screen. It pounded at the baseline, denting it. Hello.

  GIVE POUND THE CODE. A disk was extruded from a slot beneath Pewter's screen.

  Tristan took the disk and put it in a slot under Pound's screen. There was a brief whirring sound. Then he removed the disk. Pound had the conversion code.

  "Thank you, Pewter," Clio said. She picked the little machine up; he was conveniently pocket-size, like his sister.

  MUSE GOES IMMEDIATELY ON HER WAY.

  Thus they left the cave and mounted their steeds. "I might have reversed the order, with a touch of wood," Sherlock said.

  "There was no point; we needed to be on our way anyway."

  They galloped south, toward the invisible bridge, but time had passed and night was closing before they reached it. "We must camp," Clio said. "If we are keeping you too long, Chele and Danielle, you will be free to depart."

  "There is no problem," Chele said. "We'll camp too, and get you there tomorrow."

  Clio had privately hoped the two would go elsewhere for the night, and return in the morning, so that she could be alone with Sherlock. But perhaps it was just as well this way. "Thank you."

  They found a campsite, and camped. Soon they had a nice fire and a number of pies. Actually it was pleasant to be in company; Chele and Danielle in girl form had questions and comments, and were polite. Clio and Sherlock shared a tent; no one questioned that. The little dragons participated, and so did Pound, who was as curious as his sister about new vocabulary. But it was not the occasion to make up for lost chances.

  Still, it was pleasant lying in the darkness, holding Sherlock's hand, as they had done the night before. There was a good deal more to a relationship than kissing or stork summoning—or, indeed, permanence.

  In the morning Clio emerged to discover Danielle in girl form working in the adjacent lot with an odd garden tool. "What is that?" she asked.

  "I found this grove of small pantrees," Danielle explained. "Their panties are very fresh, but they are likely to run if you don't harvest them carefully. So I'm using one of these panty hoes. Even so it's tricky."

  "Panty bushes," Clio said. "I should harvest one myself." She took another one of the hoes, which were leaning against a fence. She hoed out a panty, which was modestly covered by foliage.

  But just as she got it clear, a nasty boy jumped out of the brush. "Boo!" he yelled, startling her so that she dropped the panty.

  Immediately the panty set down its feet and ran away. The boy chased after it.

  "Oh, it ran," Danielle said. "That panty raider did that on purpose."

  "Never mind; I'll hoe out another," Clio said.

  But her hoe had fallen apart. It seemed that panty hoes were no good after a run. She had to get another.

  Soon, armed with fresh new panties that hadn't run, they returned to the camp. Sherlock and Chele had pies heating. "Look what we got!" Danielle said, as they both lifted their skirts to flash their panties.

  Chele smiled as Sherlock freaked out. "There's nothing like new panties to make a man pant."

  Clio went up to Sherlock and kissed him. He recovered, blinking. "Did you do something naughty?"

  "We harvested new panties. We couldn't waste them, could we?"

  "I suppose not. But some time I may touch them with reverse wood and make you freak out instead."

  "That should be fun."

  After breakfast they resumed traveling. They crossed the invisible bridge, Danielle changing to girl form for the occasion, and a wind came up and whipped her skirt about. A bird flying below them glanced up, then went into a diving fall. Fortunately it recovered before losing too much altitude. Clio continued to be amazed by the power of a really fresh panty, but was sure the unicorn girl's youth and fullness had something to do with it. Clio's own panty wouldn't perform like that, she was sure.

  At last they reached Mount Pinatuba. It sent a warning column of smoke up as they approached. How it did that when its cone was full of water Clio wasn't sure, but she decided to keep a safe distance clear.

  "Pinatuba," she called. "I have something for you."

  The smoke thinned. The volcano was listening.

  "Contact with your inverted parallel on Counter Xanth," she continued. "Pinafore, the lady volcano. She would like to establish a correspondence. Provide Com Pound here with a safe cave, and he will relay your messages to her, and give you her responses. Are you interested?"

  Of course he was. Soon Pound was ensconced in a nice volcanic cave and relaying messages.

  As they were turning to go, something flew out of the cave and landed at Clio's feet. The blue arrow pointed right at it, so she picked it up. It was a bit of light volcanic rock, labeled TUFF STUFF.

  It seemed that this was what she had come for: a fragment of tuff. She put it in another pocket.

  14

  Conspiracy

  "Well, my mission here seems to be done," Clio said. "I thank you, centaur and unicorn, for your assistance."

  "It was fun," Danielle said. "And I made a new friend." She changed to unicorn form.

  "We'll be running along now," Chele said. She was speaking literally; the centaur and the unicorn galloped off into the sunset.

  "Where to now?" Sherlock inquired.

  Clio looked at the compass. "North, and the arrow of time isn't in a hurry."

  "One might think that the no
rthern errands could be handled together, and the southern ones, so as to eliminate the need to travel."

  "Only a sensible person would think that."

  He smiled, and they started walking north. But soon the way became confused; the trail might be enchanted, but it wasn't clear. Brush had overgrown part of it, and there were several paths trying to find their way through it.

  "We are in danger of wandering off the safe path, if we guess," Sherlock said.

  Clio looked at the compass, but it simply pointed north, not deigning to notice the confusion immediately ahead.

  "Big stupid man coming," Drew reported.

  "From behind," Drusie added.

  They turned to look back. An ogre came toward them, shaking the ground with his heavy tromping. Sherlock readied a chip.

  "This is an enchanted path," Clio reminded him. "It should be a friendly ogre."

  "I am nervous about ogres, since learning of the drubbing I received from one, that you wound back. But I'll bear with it."

  "Thank you. I will wind it back again if necessary."

  "We can't tell if it's friendly," Drew said. "Its mind is too dull."

  "Ogres are justly proud of their stupidity," Sherlock said, repeating the stupidly well-known adage.

  The ogre spied them and tromped to a halt. It was twice their height and solid in proportion. It peered somewhat blearily down at them, huge hamfists at its sides.

  "Hello, Ogre," Clio said. "We are Clio and Sherlock."

  "Which which?" he demanded, confused.

  "I am Clio; he is Sherlock."

  "Opaque Ogre me, no rhyme be."

  Clio appreciated the problem. She knew of no words that rhymed with either "opaque" or "ogre." "We accept that. Considering that ogre dull rhymes are more perceived than real, shall we dispense with them and converse normally?"

  The ogre peered around as if fearful of being overheard. "Do you think it is safe?"

  "We promise not to tell."

  "Very well then. Did you have reason for waiting for me, instead of hiding until I passed?"

  "Stupid reason," she said with a smile. "We can't find the proper path."

  "That I can clarify. My talent is to clarify or confuse things, depending on how they start."