The drive quickly got tedious, so Sean took a hand and taught the others how to play poker for matchsticks. Chlorine tended to let her cards show, as she did other things, which was part of her appeal; but mute Nimby turned out to be an unbluffable player. He obviously knew which cards everyone else held. Soon he had all the matchsticks, and the game lapsed.
“Did you notice that there were no women or children, other than Quieta?” Mom remarked from the front seat.
“I think they were already in the safe cave,” Chlorine said. “All that was left were the men, finishing all they could.”
“Which isn’t enough,” Sean said. “They aren’t going to make it on time before the dust of madness comes and spoils their remaining stones.”
“They aren’t?” Chlorine asked, concerned. “How do you know?”
“The animals told me,” Sean said, petting Woofer. “They talked to other animals.”
Chlorine looked at Nimby, who nodded.
“Couldn’t we help?” David asked, evincing a rare sign of social conscience.
“Not without being caught by it ourselves,” Sean said grimly.
“You mustn’t do that,” Chlorine said quickly. “I have to get you safely out of Xanth.”
“But the imps were real nice,” Karen said. “We should have helped them.”
“But if it just got you caught for the madness, that would be as much harm as good,” Chlorine said.
“Yeah, I guess,” Karen agreed reluctantly. Sean understood her feeling, because he shared it.
Time passed. Sean got tired of looking out the window, and it was hard to look too much at Chlorine without being obvious, so he wound up snoozing as the others got into more solitaire, a game Nimby couldn’t dominate as completely.
He woke when the RV turned off the main road. He glanced at his watch. Hours had passed, and it was now near the middle of the day. “Are we leaving Xanth?” he asked, actually somewhat disappointed.
“Dad needs more gas,” Karen informed him. “Sleepyhead.”
Sean looked out. “Where are we?”
“Tall Hassle,” David said.
“Tallahassee? That sounds familiar.”
“It isn’t. This is Xanth, remember? Those are tall hassle trees out there.”
There were indeed some very tall trees. “Tall Hassle,” Sean agreed, not wanting to get into a hassle, tall or short, while Chlorine was watching.
“We are looking for a car pool, where there should be a cargo of gas at a carport,” Karen said, relishing the puns. “ ’Cause there’s no gas guzzler here.”
“Oh? Who says.”
“Nimby says.”
That did seem to settle it. Sean looked out to see if he could spot the car pool.
“There it is!” Karen cried, pointing. She had the sharp blue eyes of innocent youth.
Sean looked. There, indeed, it was: a body of water in the shape of a huge car, rolling across the land on watery wheels. “I should have known,” he muttered.
Dad honked the horn. The car pool seemed to hear, because it rolled to a stop by the side of the road. “Don’t get out,” Dad warned. “There may be danger.”
Nimby nodded.
Sure enough: a giant tigerlike creature made of water came bounding toward them: a car-nivore. It loomed over the RV and tried to bite it, but its water teeth couldn’t dent the metal. It made a wet roar and bounded away again.
An old woman walked out of the water. She was made of water too, but she had a certain car-isma, perhaps because of the water carnation in her hair. “I wouldn’t give two cents for a tankful of gas,” Dad called, “but I would give one.”
“That’s car-rna,” Karen said.
“I will take it,” the water woman said. “My son will give it to you.” She turned and called “Toon!”
A garish water man waded out of the pool, followed by a shaggy little car-pet. “Coming, Ma!” he burbled. He brought out a big bottle of wine-colored liquid.
“And that must be the car-port,” Sean said.
Dad got out and unscrewed the gas cap, and Car-toon poured the liquid in. Sean hoped this was really what they needed. Suppose it wasn’t gasoline, but wine? Because port was a kind of wine.
It seemed to be okay, because the motor started up well enough. But of course, there would still be some of the old gas-guzzler juice in the tank, so it was too soon to be sure.
“Thank you,” Dad called as he put the vehicle in motion. Car-ma waved affably.
Then a huge shadow crossed their path. Sean looked up—and saw a giant bird. “A roc!” he cried. “The monsters’ve caught up again.”
But Nimby wrote a note. No. That is a roc-ette. They congregate in the tall hassle grove to practice their dancing.
“That explains everything,” Sean said sourly.
The big bird circled, peering down. “I think she thinks we’re going to molest her nest or something,” David said. “She’s eyeing us.”
Dad was concerned too. “That bird is big enough to pick us up and dump us in the sea,” he said. “How can we get away from her?”
Nimby wrote another note. There is a B-have near. The B’s will dissuade her.
“Just show the way,” Dad said gamely.
Nimby went up front, exchanging places with Mom, so he could indicate the direction. “I shall be quite glad to get out of this weird world,” Mom said. “In Mundania all we have to worry about are thieves and muggers.” She smiled, to show this was in jest, to a degree.
“But what about the imps?” Karen asked.
Mom sighed. “I confess, I do wish we had found some way to help them. They were so kind to us, despite the extremity of their situation.”
They were approaching what looked like the world’s biggest, fiercest hornet nest. That would be the beehive. Or B-have, as Nimby called it.
“Just what kind of creatures are these?” Dad asked warily.
“Oh, B’s are all right, if you don’t rile them,” Chlorine said. “Their stings are mainly emotional.”
“I sure get emotional when I get stung,” Karen said.
Dad, evidently acting on Nimby’s written advice, rolled down his window and addressed the big insects buzzing there. “I B-held your nice hive, er, have, and B-lieve you can do something on my B-half, if you care to B-friend me. Can I B-guile you to make the roc B-gone?” And he held out an old nylon comb.
The B’s clustered about the comb. This was evidently something new and exciting to them. In a moment they picked it up and carried it into their have/hive. They had accepted the offering. Then another swarm formed into an arrow and shot up to intercept the roc wheeling above. In a moment there was a loud squawk, and the bird zoomed away so swiftly as to leave a sonic boom behind.
Karen giggled. “I guess that salted her tail.”
“B-nighted mission accomplished,” Sean said. “That B-lies our concern about B’s.” He glanced at Mom, who was known to be nervous about insects of most types.
Dad looped around and made his way back to the trollway. “I am really getting to appreciate the protection of the beneficial spell on this road,” he remarked. “Whenever we leave it, we get into trouble.”
“Except for the imps,” David reminded him.
“Except for the imps,” Dad agreed as they resumed speed. “You know, we are now close to the boundary of Xanth; in a couple of hours we’ll be clear of it, and back in the normal realm. Yet I almost wonder—”
“We’ll have to say good-bye to Chlorine,” Sean said, stricken by the realization. “And Nimby,” he added, not wanting to be too obvious.
“Who have helped us as much as the imps did,” Mom added.
“Is anybody else thinking what I am?” Dad asked.
Sean was suddenly excited. “Like—like maybe not leaving Xanth right now?”
“But we have to get home,” Mom protested. “We’re late already.”
“To school,” Karen said, making a wry face.
“To chores,” Dav
id said.
“To work,” Dad said.
“To research,” Mom said. “It occurs to me that though I love my work, researching archaic languages, there may be a unique chance for similar research here. It may have escaped the notice of the rest of you, but we are no longer speaking English; we are speaking the universal magic language of Human Xanth, just as the pets are speaking the universal animal magic language of Animal Xanth. Such an opportunity should perhaps not be passed by.”
Sean grinned. “Mom always did have a problem communicating. What she’s trying to say is she’d just as soon stick around here awhile longer.”
“Yea!” Karen cried, clapping her little hands.
Dad glanced at Mom. “When you give a scholarly rationale, you always have an underlying gut motive. What is it? Surely you aren’t thrilled with meatier showers or harpy bombs.”
“It’s the imps,” she confessed. “They were so nice to us, and we may have imposed at the worst time. I wish we could help them.”
“But we would get caught by the madness,” Sean reminded her, though he was as eager as any to remain in Xanth. Mom required careful managing, as Dad knew; it wasn’t safe to agree with her too quickly, lest she argue the opposite case in an attempt to be Quite Fair.
“Yes. Yet it seems that all of Xanth faces that same threat. Is it right for us to escape what they can’t?”
She was begging to be persuaded. What would clinch it? Sean had an inspiration. “Let’s ask the pets.” Before anyone else could speak, he addressed the animals. “What do you guys have to say? Do you want to stay here in Xanth longer?”
All three nodded. But that wasn’t necessarily enough. He needed a good, solid argument for turning back. “What do you know that we don’t?”
“Woof,” Woofer said. He tried again. “Woimp.”
“Something about the imps,” Sean said. “The ones running the hotel? Quieta? Ortant?”
“Woof.”
“Ortant. He’s not what he seems?”
“Woof.”
“Something bad?”
“Woof. Woof.”
They were zeroing in on it. “Something good?”
“Woof woof woof.”
“He’s more than the innkeeper?” Chlorine asked, catching on to the mechanism.
“Woof.”
A lightbulb flashed above Chlorine’s head. “I remember now. He’s the mayor of the village.”
“Woof!”
“The mayor!” Mom exclaimed. “I had forgotten.”
“The most important imp is always the host for guests,” Chlorine said. “Because they feel that hospitality is the most important function of a village. I had forgotten too; I didn’t pay proper attention in Centaur School, or I would have realized right away.”
“But surely the mayor should have been supervising the business of clearing out the village,” Dad said.
“Meow.”
David looked at Midrange. “I guess so—after taking care of the visitors.”
“Yes,” Sean said. “Ortant and Quieta were off in the village when Dad and I went down at night. They thought we were safe asleep, so they were getting back to their business. Without bothering us about it.”
“Such courtesy is rare in Mundania,” Dad said. “Yet it begs to be returned in kind.”
That did it. “We must go back,” Mom said decisively.
“Can we get there in time?” Dad asked. “It will be evening, and that’s when they have to be done.”
“Nimby?” Chlorine asked.
Nimby nodded.
“And you,” Mom said to Chlorine. “This will be extending your job. We don’t have the right to—”
“I’m happy to,” Chlorine said. “This has been more fun for me than anything. And I like the imps too.”
Sean was very glad to hear that. Now he would get more time with Chlorine—maybe a lot more time. So she could practice whatever she wanted on him. Like maybe progressing beyond the verbal interplay.
Dad slowed the RV, getting ready to turn it around. “I hope we don’t regret this,” he said. But he didn’t look regretful.
7
MADNESS
David was glad they were going back. This magic world of Xanth took some getting used to, but he was getting there, and it certainly was more interesting than Mundania. He knew that eventually he’d be back in dreary school, but at least he’d have a good subject for the How I Spent My Summer report.
Now they were heading into Xanth instead of out of it, and the winds were stiffening. It was bound to be a long, hard drive. That made him thirsty, as long drives always did.
He saw a sign, APPLE COLA RIVER. “Hey, Dad—how about stopping to get some of that apple cola?”
To his surprise, Dad listened. Maybe Dad was thirsty too. He pulled to the side. “Everybody get out and get anything done you want, because we won’t be stopping again soon,” he said.
Oh. That was fair warning. They piled out and found assorted bushes. Then David got a jug and went to dip out all the apple cola he could. That was one of the good things about Xanth: the way things were literal. If the sign said apple cola, the river was made of it. Just as that river of blood in the mirror/Tapestry had been genuine hot red giant blood, so copious it flowed for miles in a river down to the sea. This river sparkled with its effervescence, and sure enough, it was apple-flavored cola. He drank several cups of it before he left, so as to keep the jug full.
He turned to return to the RV, and saw a fire. A series of small flames was traveling along the ground between him and the others. He wasn’t worried, because they were little enough to step right over, but he wondered how they had come about. So he paused to look.
They were ants. Little red ants. “Fire ants!” he exclaimed, catching on.
“Wouldn’t you know it,” Sean said. “I found some block parents.” He gestured, and David saw several stone blocks in the shape of people. That figured.
“Hey, look what I found,” Karen called from the other side. “Laughing flowers.”
They looked, but didn’t hear any laughing, though she stood in a patch of pretty flowers. “Where?” David asked.
“Here.” She picked a funny red one and brought it to him. “Smell it.”
He smelled it—and burst out laughing. The curious thing was that he hadn’t intended to; it just happened.
“What’s so funny?” Sean asked suspiciously.
“Smell,” Karen said, handing him a funny blue flower.
Sean sniffed it—and guffawed. Then looked as surprised as David felt. Then he smiled. “I get it: these are scents of humor.”
“Yeah,” Karen said, satisfied.
Woofer came running up. “Woof!” he said urgently, pointing his nose toward the vehicle.
“Time’s up,” Sean said. “We have to get back in before Dad takes off without us.”
They hurried back to the RV, because Dad didn’t bluff when he was in a hurry. The RV was already starting to move, slowly. Of course, Mom wouldn’t let him actually leave them behind, but they got the message and ran the last fifty feet.
“Did you see what I saw?” Dad asked as they pulled back onto the trollway. “The fly-fishing?”
“What is noteworthy about that?” Mom asked. She was sitting up front now, her normal place when they didn’t need special instructions.
“They were frogs with fishing poles—casting for flies.”
Mom laughed musically. “And you mean that literally, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And do you know what I saw?” Mom asked in turn.
“What did you see?” Dad dutifully inquired.
“A thim bull.”
“A thimble?”
“A thim bull.”
“A thin bull?”
“A male bovine in the shape of a thimble.”
Dad laughed. “Grazing on pins and needles?”
“Of course.”
David decided not to try to tell what the kids had s
een, because it simply wasn’t remarkable, in this magic land.
“It’s good to see them enjoying it,” Sean murmured. David realized that he was right. The parents had been somewhat tight and terse recently, but now they were getting into the spirit of Xanth. That was an excellent sign.
David looked around. The animals were snoozing. Karen was fiddling with the deck of cards. Sean was sneaking peeks at Chlorine’s legs, where her skirt rode up carelessly high. Chlorine herself was looking out the window. But then he saw her eyes flick back, and he realized that she knew Sean was looking at her. She was showing her legs on purpose! Now, that was really interesting.
But all this left nothing much for David to do. He could play solitaire, but he was tired of that. So he considered Nimby. Nimby was one pleasantly weird character. Really a donkey-headed dragon in the shape of a young man who never spoke. So would he—
Nimby turned to face him.
Could Nimby read his mind? Suddenly David wasn’t bored at all. This could get really truly superinteresting.
Can you? he thought.
Nimby nodded.
Gee. But he’d better test it. What am I thinking of now? He imagined a really ugly cartoon face.
Nimby brought out his pad and pencil—they just appeared from nowhere—and drew the ugly face.
Gee, again. So they didn’t have to speak to Nimby; they could just think their questions to him. But maybe it wouldn’t be smart to announce that.
Nimby looked questioningly at him.
Because people like to keep secrets, David thought loudly. Like Sean’s looking up under Chorine’s skirt, getting a real charge from her legs, but he doesn’t want anyone else to know. And she’s letting him do it, and SHE doesn’t want him to know. So I guess you can pick up on that … He paused, and Nimby nodded. But you better not let them know, because they’d both be embarrassed to death. Because they’re both adults, or close to it. I guess it’s like that Adult Conspiracy that stops us kids from saying words like “bleep.” Nobody’s supposed to know anything. I guess if you peek into their minds, you’ll see I’m right.
Nimby paused, then nodded, looking surprised. David was pleased; he had taught the man who knew everything something.
And Nimby nodded again.
David realized that he didn’t have to work to project his thoughts; Nimby could pick them up at conversational level. But if he could read everybody’s mind so well, why did he seem so, well, innocent?
Yon Ill Wind Page 12
