Knot Gneiss

by Piers Anthony

  “Yew dew knot,” Jumper agreed with a smile.

  Jumper and Hilarion pulled the loaded wagon together, while the winged girls spied out the best route for them and Wenda and Ida walked behind to salvage any pieces that got jiggled off. Ida changed genders as she worked, but reverted promptly as she dropped the wood on the wagon. The remarkable change was becoming routine.

  They encountered a group of men. Hilarion immediately stepped forward to intercept them, his hand hovering near his sword. Wenda appreciated his boldness; if these men meant ill, they would soon be discouraged. “What are you doing here?” Hilarion asked.

  “We can ask the same of you,” one man answered. “How did you escape the dragon?”

  “One of us knows the dragon from way back,” Hilarion said. “Stanley Steamer let us pass.”

  “Us too,” the man said. “We are performing an errand for the dragon, rather than get steamed. We are the Tractor family. I am Pro; I am very good at turning circles. This is my brother Con; he undertakes projects. And my brother Dis—” He broke off, because Dis was straying. “Get back here!” Dis returned to the group. “He tends to get interested in the wrong things. And Subcon, who finishes the jobs others don’t get to. Not that any of this relates well to what we’re doing for the dragon. But it’s better than getting steamed.”

  “I’m sure,” Hilarion said. These men were evidently no threat, and were taking time from the mission. “We’ll be moving on now on our own errand.”

  They moved on. Wenda wondered briefly what the Tractors were doing for the Gap Dragon. Then she realized it was obvious: they were fetching more reverse wood for the cache.

  By evening they reached the vicinity of the Knot. They camped far enough away from it so that its baleful radiation did not affect them strongly. It obeyed the magic of the square cube law, diluting significantly with distance.

  And as they settled for the night, Charming appeared, along with Eris and Beauregard, this time not putting the others into stasis. Again, Wenda was participating physically while paying attention mentally to the others—mainly the other two uncoupled members of the Quest.

  “I admit to being jealous of their joy,” Hilarion remarked to Meryl as she rested on her tail. “Do you suppose you and I might pretend to be a couple for seven minutes? You are an attractive creature despite not being my betrothee.”

  She considered. “And you are a handsome prince despite not being a merman. I have an idea. Suppose we pick up reverse wood chips, change genders, and then pretend? That would leave our normal forms pure for our beloveds at such time as we find them.”

  That made him pause. “I don’t think I would appreciate it in that form. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  Meryl sighed. “Neither would I. So I suppose we’ll have to suffer through alone.”

  “Anyway, it wouldn’t be polite, when Ida lacks a partner,” he concluded.

  “I will manage,” Ida said.

  “How is it you never married, Princess?” he asked. “You are surely attractive for an older woman.”

  “Thank you,” Ida responded a bit shortly. Maybe they weren’t far enough out from the Knot. “I simply never encountered the appropriate man. I like to think that it is not yet too late. That some day, when I least expect it, there he will be.”

  “I sincerely hope you find him,” Hilarion said. “I am familiar with the experience of not encountering the right one.”

  “Yes, you are,” Ida agreed, and smiled, her shortness dissipating.

  “You never can tell,” Eris said. “I waited for a century, and must confess I never anticipated marrying a spider. But he was indeed the one.” She was ethereally beautiful, as perhaps only a being of her class could be.

  The others were startled. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy with that spider?” Ida asked.

  “I put him blissfully to sleep in only four minutes this time. I think that’s my record.” Eris glanced in the direction of the Knot, though it was out of sight. “That is some bole you have to handle.”

  “It certainly is,” Ida agreed.

  “I have two thoughts that could materially simplify your Quest. Unfortunately I must not voice them, lest I be guilty of interfering with the internal affairs of another Demon’s domain. As it is, these conjugal visits are skirting the limit. It’s too bad.” She glanced around. “I think the others are done. We must depart.” Suddenly she was gone, and so were Beauregard and Charming, both sound asleep.

  “We should tell Wenda about those thoughts,” Meryl said.

  “Why?” Hilarion asked. “Why tease her when we have nothing useful to offer? She has enough challenge already, without that added frustration.”

  “Point taken,” Meryl agreed.

  “She’s certainly not taking that Knot for granite,” he concluded with a bit of a smile in his voice.

  Now Angela was stirring, finding herself alone. She hastily applied some an-gel to her mussed hair. Wenda stirred too, as if only now becoming aware of her surroundings.

  “We three single individuals are envious of you three committed folk,” Hilarion said. “We hope one day to be as satisfied with our relationships are you are with yours.”

  Angela blushed all the way into her halo. Wenda tried to blush too, but after a year of marriage such a reference lacked sufficient force. “Thank you,” she said for them both. “We hope you find them.”

  Wenda elected not to reveal that she had eavesdropped. But she wondered what those unvoiced thoughts of the Demoness were. What was she missing? She would have to be alert for anything that could make the Quest easier.

  Fortunately no one questioned her. Jumper was sound asleep, and the others soon were slumbering too.

  Wenda continued to ponder the mystery of those two thoughts. Demons with the small d were often mischievous, like Metria, and could not be trusted. But big-D Demons were serious, and Eris more than most; she was genuinely grateful to Jumper for rescuing her from isolation. She probably wanted to help, but was constrained by Demon Protocol. So this was no tease; she had something in mind. What could it be? Not one thing but two.

  It was both promising and frustrating that Wenda had overheard that dialogue. But that made her wonder: why hadn’t the Demoness mentioned it to her, instead of to Ida, Hilarion, and Meryl? Wenda was the leader of this Quest, the one most concerned.

  Then it came to her in a double flash that she hoped did not wake any of the others. Flash one: Eris had not mentioned it to her because she was the leader. Eris was constrained by Demon Protocol, and giving a hint to Wenda could have violated it. Mentioning it incidentally to others might have fallen just below the threshold of violation. They might not relay it, not thinking it important, so it would be wasted anyway.

  Flash two: Eris had wanted Wenda to overhear. She must have known Wenda was listening, but pretended not to. Women of any type were good at that sort of thing. So she had given a hint in a masked manner. If Wenda could figure it out on her own, that was no violation.

  Which left her with the two thoughts. Two ways her Quest might be simplified. What could they be? Surely she could fathom one of them. If she could just cudgel her simple woodwife brain to evoke it.

  Could the people the Demoness had spoken to be relevant? Ida, Hilarion, Meryl. All three of them looking for meaning in their lives, whether in the form of a compatible companion or something else. All needed for the Quest, whether to fly to get information, or to use their talents.

  A third bulb flashed. Hilarion’s talent was to make people forget spot memories. Ida’s talent was to make things real by agreeing with someone who made a suggestion without knowing Ida’s talent. Wenda had been forgetting how those two talents could interact. Jumper had spelled it out when Hilarion joined the Quest: how he could work with Ida to magnify her power. It made terrific sense. Yet somehow that thought had gotten lost in the other complications of the Quest. Eris must have seen that, and tried to remind Wenda. That would certainly simplify the Quest. That had
to be one of the thoughts.

  So what was the other thought? Wenda tried to focus on it, but drifted off to sleep before she could come to proper grips with it.

  In the morning they organized for the project. “My talent is to craft reverse wood,” Wenda said. “That is why I am immune to its effects. Now I am going to shape a shell to surround the Knot.” She smiled, because her dialect returned while she was holding reverse wood, a small benefit. “And that should reverse its petrifying radiation, and make the rest of you able to approach it. Then we will be able to haul it on the wagon to the Good Magician’s Castle.”

  “How can we help?” Jumper asked.

  “I think I need to shape the wood into long strands, and weave them together to make a wicker cage. If someone could weave them as I form them, that wood help. But yew dew knot need to dew that; yew dew knot want to suffer the change in gender when yew touch it.”

  “We can handle it,” Jumper said, and picked up a branch.

  Then the others were doing it too, teasing one another about how handsome or lovely they were in their reversed roles. They handed suitable branches and chips to Wenda, and took the strands she crafted, weaving them into a large wickerwork mat. The job took hours, but they stayed with it, and by early afternoon it was done. They had a sheet they could wrap around the Knot to nullify it.

  The next step only Wenda could do. They rolled up the mat, and put it on the wagon, and she hauled the wagon around the bend to the Knot. She knew it was aware of her approach; she could feel not only its radiation, but its anger. But it couldn’t stop her.

  She hauled the reverse-wood wickerwork mat off the wagon and spread it on the ground before the Knot. It radiated so much anger that it almost seemed it might set the mat on fire. That it might at least burn a hole in it, as it had with the magic carpet. But that was unlikely, because the reverse wood converted the anger to friendly acceptance. Already it was working.

  Now she had to wrap the mat around the Knot. What was the best way to do that? She could throw it over the top, but then it wouldn’t connect at the bottom. So it would be better to roll the Knot onto the mat, then lift up the edges and tie them together at the top. But how could she move the Knot? It wasn’t as tall as she was, but the Good Magician had said it weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. She knew it would exert its maximum passive resistance, refusing to be rolled anywhere. It knew this was not the carpet.

  She wished she had some elbow grease. When a job was too difficult, some of that applied to the elbows made it possible to accomplish. But there was no grease of any kind here. Would Princess Ida have some in her collection? Wenda was tempted to go and ask.

  Then she remembered some garden-variety magic: leverage. A lever could move something by magically multiplying the force applied. That should do it. No need for elbow grease.

  Naturally she had no lever. So she went to the wagon, worked out the wooden pin holding the tongue to the main body, and separated the tongue as a prospective lever. She carried it to the Knot, set the end against a rock in the ground, and pried. “I’m going use my tongue to give you a licking,” she said as she heaved.

  The Knot resisted, but couldn’t reverse the leverage because reversal was no longer its magic. Grudgingly, it rolled onto the mat.

  Abruptly its anger seemed to become pleasure. The reverse wood was reversing the effect of the radiation.

  She picked up the edges of the mat and drew them together over the top of the boulder. She wove their loose ends together to make the enclosure complete. She had succeeded in nullifying the baleful power of the Knot.

  She put two fingers to her mouth and made a piercing whistle. Wood-whistles had always been natural to her.

  The other members of the party heard and came around the bend. They came right up to the wrapped Knot. “Oh, it’s darling!” Meryl said, hugging it. “Oops.” For she had suddenly turned male.

  “Do not touch the would,” Wenda said. “Because then it acts on you as well as on the Not.” She put her hand on the mat herself, demonstrating. “I wood knot dew that to yew,” she said, smiling.

  The others laughed, and kept their hands off the mat despite their obvious urge to get close to the seemingly friendly and positive Knot. Its glare had become a smile, filtered by the lattice of reverse wood.

  Getting it loaded on the wagon was no problem, now that they had many hands. Jumper, in manform, and Hilarion took hold of it on either side and lifted it up. Both became female, but even so they were strong enough to manage it. Ida, turning male, took an extra band of wood and tied it over the top, anchoring the Knot in place. Wenda put the tongue back on the wagon and replaced the pin.

  They were ready to travel.

  7

  TRAVEL

  “Before we start hauling,” Jumper said, “I have a question. How are we going to get it out of the Gap Chasm?” “I thought we would retrace our route here back to the vertical path, and use that,” Wenda said. She winced internally, thinking of the lost magic carpet.

  “Maybe that would work,” he agreed. “But it’s a long, tedious trip, and I am nervous about hauling a thing of this mass on such a devious trail. Suppose the path’s magic is overwhelmed or reversed?”

  “We could crash,” Hilarion said. “If we could even get started. I don’t think we should risk it.”

  Wenda had to concede the validity of their concern. “Does anyone have a better idea?”

  “What about that humidor you used before?” Hilarion asked. “Didn’t that transport you from one place to another?”

  Wenda shuddered. “Please not that. You don’t know what Planet Comic is like.”

  “I don’t understand the reference,” Angela said. “Are you talking about a world or a travel route?”

  “It is both,” Ida explained. “Comic is one of the worlds in the loop to which I relate.” She indicated the moon that orbited her head, and it promptly tried to hide behind her hair. “The humidor connects directly to it, and there is another door returning directly to Xanth. But there are two problems. One is that the return is random; we could land anywhere. That might be inconvenient.”

  “But that same randomness can be an advantage,” Jumper said, “because we are unlikely to return here, or anywhere in the Gap Chasm. So it does represent a convenient way out.”

  “If we don’t land in a swamp or a lava lake or a wild wind storm,” Meryl said somewhat sourly. She naturally preferred clear air and open water.

  “What is the other problem?” Angela asked.

  “The door is hidden in a Strip,” Ida said. “This is a section of atrocious puns that can be really unpleasant to navigate.”

  “But puns are natural to Xanth! What’s so bad about them?”

  “You would have to be there to properly appreciate the problem,” Meryl said.

  “Yes. I would like to see it.” Angela seemed to feel that they were fussing about nothing of consequence.

  A little girl wandered by, holding a handful of straws. Wenda, glad for the interruption went to her. “Excuse me. Are you lost? This is a dangerous place.”

  “I know,” the child said. “But the dragon is letting me go if I find all the straws.”

  “The Gap Dragon wants straws?”

  “These are special. I know how to find them. Each one is a straw that breaks a camel’s back.”

  A pun. “Why does the dragon want these straws?”

  “Because they might break his back, if they thought he was a camel. So he wants them out. He’ll steam them to death. Then I can go.”

  “That’s one careful dragon,” Hilarion remarked.

  “Where is your mother?” Wenda asked.

  “I have no mother. I’m an orphan.”

  Wenda’s heart clenched. But she couldn’t adopt this child. She had a dangerous mission to complete. “I hope you find a good home.”

  “I hope so too.” The girl moved on, searching out special straws.

  Wenda gazed up the wall of the canyon. The
top seemed impossibly high. It was bright above, while already the gloom of evening was encroaching on the base. Did they really have a choice?

  “I believe we shall have to do it,” Ida said tightly. “Maybe the reverse wood will nullify some of the puns.”

  “That’s an idea,” Jumper agreed. “It seems a better prospect than getting the vertical path nullified.”

  “Then we had better do it,” Wenda said. “We can go there and spend the night, preparing for the onslaught of the puns. Maybe Angela will be able to spy out the worst ones so we can avoid them.”

  “Or simply ignore them,” Angela said. Clearly, she did not properly comprehend the problem.

  “Be ready to roll the wagon through the door,” Wenda told the others. “There may not be much time, and we definitely want to pass through as a single party.”

  Ida brought out the humidor, opened it, and put a drop of water into the tube. The fog boiled out, forming the cloud. There was the door. Ida opened it.

  Jumper and Hilarion, remaining masculine, hauled on the tongue. Wenda and Ida pushed on the wagon behind. Meryl and Angela hovered closely above. They moved through as a group. Ida closed the door behind them. The fog dissipated, leaving no trace. They were through.

  They were in a glade in what appeared to be a dense purple jungle. It was not at all like the open blue field and yellow trees of the prior visit. But of course this was a planet; it had a varied terrain. They would make do. They parked the wagon with the shrouded Knot and relaxed, to a degree.

  Wenda sniffed the air. “This is an ordinary forest, apart from its color, without bad threats,” she announced. “We can camp safely right here. But I detect some puns that must have leaked from the Strips, so beware.”

  “We will scout the wider territory,” Meryl said. She and Angela flew up to look around.

  “Meanwhile I’m hungry,” Hilarion said. “I presume there are pie plants in the vicinity.”