But now several nymphs were joining her, thinking this was some new game, and several fauns were chasing them, intent on the type of celebrating, as they termed it, they normally did. Hilarion stepped in, intercepting them. “No, no,” he cried. “Go the other way!” He ran in a new direction, showing them how.
The nymphs followed him. He was after all a supremely handsome man. But then the trolls followed the nymphs. Oops!
Wenda was desperate. How could she attract the trolls without also attracting the nymphs? She had no idea.
“Scream,” Dipper called.
So Wenda made the most piercing scream of her life. “EEEEEEEE!!!!” she screamed, putting a record eight E’s and four exclamation points into it. Two E’s and one point per troll. The effort almost turned her inside out.
It worked. The nymphs didn’t react, as screaming cutely was routine for them, and this was hardly a cute scream. But the bloodthirsty trolls whirled around and charged, eager to pounce on the terrified morsel. To them, EE! meant EEat! Their mottled jaws were covered with eager slaver.
Wenda put on a burst of nymphly speed and zoomed toward the forming humidor, the trolls in hot pursuit.
The largest and ugliest troll gained on her. He reached forth his gnarly hand and caught her by the hair. He hauled her up into the air.
She whirled around to face him, involuntarily, as she had no contact with the ground. He was still running, holding her aloft. His warty tongue slurped across his horny lips as his squinty eyes fixed on her chest. He was getting an idea, and biting off her face and stuffing her body into his bag was only the latter part of it. Wenda had had enough experience in the past year to derive a fairly accurate notion of the nature of the idea. She was definitely not interested.
Unless she could manage to increase his interest to the point of freaking out. Then she could escape him.
But if her chest didn’t do it, what would? She wasn’t wearing her panties at the moment, as nymphs didn’t use them. Still, maybe she could emulate them.
She lifted her legs, spreading them before his face. He stared, but did not freak out. Probably all he saw was more fresh meat for his cookpot.
Then Hilarion ran up beside them. “Ho, varlet!” he cried. “Unhand that innocent maiden!”
At some other time Wenda would have had to laugh, or at least make an obscure smile. She was no longer an innocent.
But the troll glanced at Hilarion, then lowered his arm with her dangling by her hair, until her feet touched the ground. Then he let go, unhanding her, and she caught her balance and resumed her running. He had let her go!
The troll spied the other trolls running close behind, and fell in with them. Now the four of them were chasing her again.
She was close to the humidor. “Activate the Door!” she cried.
“But you don’t want to go through,” Ida protested.
“I won’t! They will!”
Ida nodded, and dropped a drop of water into the tube. The ball of fog formed, and within it was the Door. Ida opened it just as Wenda and the trolls arrived.
At the last possible moment, Wenda dived under the Door, just missing the edge of the fog below. The four trolls, unable to dodge on such short notice, piled straight ahead through the open doorway. Ida slammed the Door behind them.
Wenda sat on the ground, catching her breath as the fog spread and thinned, dissolving the Door with it. Soon there was nothing left but dissipating wisps of mist.
“That was incredibly brave of you,” Hilarion said, sitting down beside her. Jumper, Meryl, and Dipper rejoined them. The fauns and nymphs ignored them, as they were no longer doing anything interesting.
“I couldn’t just let the trolls catch and eat the fauns and nymphs,” Wenda said. “I had to do something.”
“You certainly did something,” Ida said. “I truly appreciate it. They don’t remember, of course, but I have fond memories of running and playing with the nymphs in my youth. They are truly innocent creatures.”
“There are those who might think otherwise,” Hilarion said, observing the return of normal faunly and nymphly activity. The fauns chased the nymphs, who screamed cutely, flung their hair about, and kicked up their nice legs. When they were ready, they let the fauns catch them, and the pair would roll on the ground together, celebrating. Then the whole sequence would start over. That was what they did all day. The storks paid no attention; nymphs didn’t count.
“It is innocent when nymphs do it,” Ida said.
“I am sorry I kissed you, Wenda,” Hilarion said.
This surprised her unpleasantly. “You found me unpleasant?”
“By no means. The kiss was wonderful. Just not what I am looking for.”
This mollified her only slightly. “Then why?”
“Because I would have preferred to imagine that you were the one, my lost princess, merely awaiting my discovery. You are such a wonderful woman.”
“Oh,” Wenda said, coloring. Normally she was unable to manage color, only a blush, but he had surprised her. “But I’m really just a wouldwife.”
“You’re a woman,” he insisted. “A fine one.”
“He’s right,” Jumper said. “You were a fine woman even when you were only half there.”
This was embarrassing her, so Wenda tried to change the subject. “What happened out there?” she asked. “When the troll had me by the hair—and would have bitten off my face and celebrated in a way I would not have liked before stuffing me into his bag—suddenly he just seemed to change his mind, and I was able to lead them through the Door.”
A glance circulated among the others. “We don’t know,” Meryl said. “Hilarion ran up next to the troll, and then the monster set you down. I was amazed.”
“I was trying to charge over and rescue you,” Jumper said. “But I knew I would not get there in time.”
“I felt magic,” Ida said. “It must have been something Hilarion did.”
“But all I did was look him in the eye,” Hilarion said. “I was trying to think of a way to stop him without bloodshed.”
“You must have done so,” Meryl said. “He would never have set her down otherwise. Trolls are not reasonable creatures.”
“But I don’t know what magic I could have used,” Hilarion protested. “I have forgotten whatever talent I have, because of the forget whorl.”
“That is unfortunate,” Ida said. “You have helped us save the fauns and nymphs. Perhaps we can repay you by fathoming your talent. You will surely need it in your continuing search for your betrothee.”
“It would help,” he agreed, glancing again at Wenda with a certain appealing desire. She couldn’t help regretting a bit that she was not the one. He was so handsome!
They oriented on it. “Picture the scene,” Ida said. “The troll was dangling Wenda by the hair, making ready to do her serious harm. You ran up beside him. What did you say to him?”
“I told him to let her go,” Hilarion said. “And he did. I was surprised.”
“Maybe it was the way you said it,” Ida said. “Some phrasings carry more conviction than others.”
“It was dramatic,” Wenda said. “He cried ‘Ho, varlet! Unhand that innocent maiden!’ I was surprised, because I’m really not innocent anymore.”
Ida put her hand on Wenda’s hand. “You remain delightfully innocent. But that was not about to stop the troll.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Hilarion said. “Yet he did as I commanded.” He glanced at Ida. “You seem to have wisdom, crone. You must know what happened.”
“Yes, I must,” Ida agreed, startled. Wenda realized that was because Hilarion, unaware of her talent, had expressed a belief she could accept. “I believe you have a very special talent to influence others, even trolls.”
“I don’t think so. If I had that ability, my betrothee would have come to me by now.”
“Unless she too got brushed by a forget whorl,” Meryl said.
“That is possible,” the prince agreed
. “But I am not aware of influencing anyone else to do my will.”
“We can perhaps find out,” Ida said. “Make one of us do something.”
He nodded. “Wenda, kiss me again.”
“That’s not fair!” Wenda protested. “I already want to kiss you.” Then she quailed. “Oops.”
“All you have to do to disprove it is to resist his request,” Meryl said. “However reluctantly.”
Wenda resisted. She remained where she was.
“Bleep,” Hilarion muttered.
“Try me,” Dipper said.
“Fly and perch on the head of a nymph,” Hilarion told the bird.
Dipper sat tight.
“Try me,” Jumper said.
“Change forms.”
Jumper remained as he was, a giant spider.
“So it seems my idea was wrong,” Ida said, faintly surprised.
That gave Wenda an idea. “Maybe not. Maybe we just have not figured out exactly how he influences others.”
Ida nodded. “That is possible.”
“The troll just seemed to forget about Wenda,” Dipper said. “Or at least about celebrating with her.”
“Forgetting!” Meryl exclaimed. “Hilarion makes people forget! Maybe not everything, but something. Like that troll—what he wanted to do with Wenda. So he put her down, but kept chasing her, because it was only the one thing he forgot.”
A scintillating glance circulated among them. This was a really promising prospect.
“I am not aware of any such ability,” Hilarion said. “But of course my own memory is suspect, after that whorl. I have the feeling that there are other important things I have forgotten.”
“We can test this too,” Ida said. “Make one of us forget something.”
“But memories are what make us what we are,” Hilarion said. “I would not care even to try to harm a person in that manner.”
“I wish you could make me forget the horror of looking into that monster’s face, and realizing the idea that was forging through his dull brain,” Wenda said. “I’m afraid that image will haunt me for days.”
“In that case, I will try,” Hilarion said. “Wenda, forget that image.”
Wenda blinked. “Forget what?”
The others laughed, for some reason. “Are you teasing me?” Wenda demanded. “I’m sure I don’t know why.”
“Let’s try it again,” Ida said. “What other memory would one of us like to forget?”
“How the other birds made fun of me when I took a swim,” Dipper said. “They couldn’t swim, so they tried to make me feel bad about it. I knew that, but still it bothered me. One of them was a Bird of Paradise I really liked, but after that she refused to have anything to do with me. She said I wasn’t her type.”
Hilarion looked at Dipper. “Forget that episode,” he said. “Forget about the fickle Bird of Paradise.”
“Those birds are fickle,” Dipper agreed. “I’m glad I never knew one personally.”
Another glance circulated. “I think we’re making the case,” Ida said. “But we should confirm it with one more.”
“I’d like to forget the Demoness Sharon,” Jumper said. “She played me along until I was ready to marry her, then abruptly dumped me. I am far, far better off with Eris, and remain endlessly glad she married me. I would not be here today, literally, without her; I’d be dead of old age. But still the memory of Sharon bothers me, and I’d like to be rid of it.”
“Forget Sharon,” Hilarion told him.
“Forget whom?”
The others laughed. Now it was Jumper who was perplexed.
“She was a … a person you once knew,” Wenda said. “Who treated you unkindly. I was there; I thought so at the time. You are better off forgetting her.”
“I will take your word, Wenda, because you are my friend and I trust you. The name means nothing to me.”
“I believe we have established Prince Hilarion’s talent,” Ida said. “It is one we certainly can use. I wonder whether we should invite him to join our Quest.”
Wenda saw the advantage immediately. Selective forgetting!
But Dipper didn’t. “So he can make people forget things. He did us a favor by making that troll forget about despoiling Wenda. I’m sure we are all duly grateful. But his mission is not our mission. Why should he want to join us, and why should we want him along?”
Still another glance circulated, followed by subtle nods. Then Jumper assumed the mantle of explanation. “We have a very special situation, Dipper. Princess Ida’s talent is—”
“The crone’s a princess?” Hilarion asked, startled.
Jumper smiled, which looked odd on his spider face. “Yes, Ida is a princess. So is Wenda, as the wife of a prince, and I am technically a prince: the prince of spiders. We take it in stride. Ida’s talent is the Idea: when any person who doesn’t know her talent makes a suggestion, she is free to accept it, and when she does, it becomes reality. But she is limited, because those who know her, know her talent, and that makes it ineffective. But strangers don’t necessarily make useful suggestions. It would magnify her power enormously if there were a way to make a person forget her talent. You might do that. You could work closely with her to facilitate her talent.”
“I might,” Hilarion agreed, trying with imperfect success to mask his aversion.
Jumper smiled again. “She is not as ugly as she appears. That is a facade, a mask, to protect her anonymity. She is of an older generation, but otherwise ordinary.”
“I did not mean to imply—”
“We know, Prince,” Jumper said. “If you care to join our Quest, Princess Ida will appear to you as she is, and we will share its nature with you. About all we can offer in return is the prospect of meeting people, including young women, along the way. We ask only that you not share the details with any outsiders, because there are dangers.”
“Dangers,” Hilarion said, not at all dissuaded. “Perhaps some good fights.”
“Perhaps,” Jumper agreed. “But we would much prefer to avoid confrontations than solicit them.”
“Of course.” Hilarion pondered no more than a moment and one or two instants. “Very well, I will join your Quest and do my best, hoping to find my betrothee along the way.”
“We all have our incidental motives,” Jumper agreed.
Then Hilarion’s eyes widened as the scales of illusion fell away. “It is true! You are no longer a crone, and your name is not Haggai but Ida. You are Princess Ida, the sister of the King, with the little moon orbiting your head!”
“I am,” Ida agreed.
“I have heard of you,” he said, awed. “This must be a really important mission.”
“It is,” Ida agreed. “It is actually Wenda’s Quest.”
Hilarion looked at Wenda. “I am interested.”
“It is for the Good Magician,” she said. “There is a large petrified not of would that—”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A knot of wood,” Jumper explained. “She normally uses the forest dialect, but the Good Magician put a spell on her to nullify that, so that others will not recognize her. Unfortunately the spell is too effective.”
“Ah, I understand,” Hilarion agreed. “We call it the law of unintended consequences.”
“Exactly,” Jumper agreed.
“The Not terrifies all who approach it,” Wenda continued. “But since I derive from would, I should be able to handle it. So my job is to transport it from the nook in the Gap Chasm where it is, to the Good Magician’s Castle, without letting any bad creatures steal it. Because they might use it for ill.”
“Like terrifying rivals,” Hilarion agreed. “I appreciate the danger.” He looked around. “I am glad to make your acquaintances, and will do my best for your Quest. This should be interesting.”
“We would prefer it to be dull,” Wenda said.
He laughed. “Life is not always as dull as we wish.”
Wenda looked around. Much of the day ha
d passed. “We can sleep here tonight, and proceed in the morning. With luck a couple of days will suffice to complete the mission.”
Hilarion shook his head. “Quests are never completed on schedule. It is in the Big Book of Rules. I remember studying that in my days of training.”
Wenda feared that was true.
They returned to the otterbees’ shelter. The otterbees welcomed them, and brought all manner of food for their dinner. They, too, were pleased that the fauns and nymphs had been saved.
They set up beds of raised moss and settled down separately. Then suddenly there was an enclosure around Wenda’s bed, and Prince Charming was there. He kissed her avidly—and drew back. “You kissed another man!” he exclaimed.
Wenda burst into tears of remorse.
He laughed. “Eris told me about it. You just wanted to be sure you weren’t his betrothee, and you’re not.”
Wenda was relieved. “You’re not angry?”
“How can I be angry? I love you!”
That wasn’t quite the same, but before she could think about it he was kissing her again, and more, and in another six minutes he was asleep. Then he and the enclosure vanished, leaving her half bemused. She presumed Eris was similarly finished with Jumper. These spousal visits were fast and intimate, and they got the job done.
She was glad things were all right with Charming. The Quest was likely to be complicated enough without a problem there.
5
ANGELA ANGEL
In the morning they took turns washing in a pool of the swamp. First Wenda, Ida, and Meryl, then Jumper, Dipper, and Hilarion. The women agreed that Prince Hilarion was excruciatingly handsome, not that any of them would notice such a detail. “But the prince notices you,” Meryl told Wenda. “Especially when you run bare.”
“I wanted the trolls to notice me,” Wenda protested. “So I could lead them to the humidor.”
“And an excellent job you did,” Ida said. “But it is true: you have a nymphlike figure, and males of any variety tend to notice.”
“Well, a wouldwife is a sort of variety of nymph. The front half, anyway.”
“I once heard a woodwife described as a half-assed nymph,” Meryl said with three-sevenths of a smile.
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