“This is evidently not the correct route either,” he said.
“There are occasional side passages,” she said. “We aren’t sure what the voles used them for, but assume it was to allow them to pass one another. Presumably they had no problem with falling, being natural earth-boring creatures. The main passage is sure to be somewhere.”
“I hope so,” he said, still shaken from the narrowness of his escape.
They walked back toward the illusion barrier. From this side it looked like dirty glass; it was evidently a one-way illusion. The RV was visible, but its lights were muted, as if filtered through thick curtains.
Mentia paused. “Before we step back into sight of the others,” she said, extending her right hand toward him. “If I may.”
“May what?” he asked uncertainly.
“Straighten you up somewhat.” Her hand became a small mirror, in which his hair and clothing showed tousled and mussed. Then her hand became a large comb, which she ran through his hair. Then it became a hand again, as she straightened his collar. She was prettily businesslike, reminding him oddly of Mary. “Your wife might otherwise misunderstand.”
“Oh. Thank you.” He waited while she put him in order. They still held hands; after what he had seen of the phantasms, he was not about to let go of her. “How is it that you have such sensitivity for family relations?”
“For two years I have been the third member of a two-person couple,” she said, smiling darkly. “That has been instructive in several ways. Third parties are not necessarily welcome.”
“For sure.” He was embarrassed, and in a moment realized why. “I apologize for wronging you in my thoughts, Mentia.”
“Oh, you thought I might do this?” she asked innocently, and suddenly stepped in close, pressed her provocative breasts and hips firmly against him, and kissed him. “For shame.”
“For shame,” he echoed weakly. Though fleeting, it had been a kiss of such competence that it left him light-headed.
“Naturally I wouldn’t do a thing like that,” she said, drawing back and disengaging a thigh that had somehow gotten wedged between his legs. “What do you think I am—a demoness?”
“I’m afraid I did think something like that,” he agreed. This creature was no one to play games with!
“But if I chose to, I believe I could make an impression,” she murmured.
“I apologize for my apology.”
She laughed. “You have a certain poise. Don’t be embarrassed. I—that is, Metria—have in my day seduced a married King. I am satisfied to have you know what I could do, and am not doing, in the interest of Xanth’s welfare. Rationality can be such a curse.”
“A curse,” he agreed.
They stepped on through the veil of illusion, and into the glare of the headlights. Jim shaded his eyes from the bightness, and was able to make out the faces of his family peering through the windshield. He waved. Several hands waved back. They must have been concerned when he disappeared.
They walked across to the other side of the tunnel. And there they found another hidden passage. They explored it far enough to know that it was the real one, then returned to the RV. Jim opened the door and climbed in, the demoness floating around and through him, to the adjacent seat. He pulled the door closed.
“We’re sure glad you’re back, Dad,” Sean said. “You wouldn’t believe what the phantasms were pretending.”
“Try me,” Jim said as he eased the vehicle forward, and to the left, into the illusion rock wall.
“They pretended they were you and her, kissing,” David said eagerly. “But we knew it wasn’t so,’cause there were five or six couples, and we’d seen you go through the wall.”
“And we knew you wouldn’t do anything like that anyway,” Karen chimed in.
“Thanks for your confidence,” Jim said, shaken in a new manner. The phantasms had tried to tell on him! They were getting more clever by the hour, trying psychological tricks when the physical illusions didn’t work. The success of this mission was by no means assured. In fact, their family’s survival was not assured. This sometimes pleasant land of magic was becoming steadily more deadly.
After that the trip became less eventful; apparently the phantasms had tried their best, but failed, so gone in search of easier prey. The motor heated with the continued strain of the climb, but didn’t reach the point of quitting, to his relief. At length they emerged on a moderately sized plain and came to a stop. It was early afternoon.
The wind was fierce. There was a reddish haze. The sky itself seemed to bend and sway as if painted on a somewhat flexible dome, and the sun wavered in place. The magic dust was kicking up worse. And the plain was a mesa, with a frighteningly abrupt and deep dropoff.
“Now we have to gather wood, straw, dried animal dung, anything that will burn,” Jim said. “We are going to make a big fire.”
“Great!” David cried. He loved fires, the bigger the better.
“Don’t go near the edge!” Mary called as the boy dashed off.
“Awwww!” David and Karen cried together. But they heeded the warning, because the drop was awesome.
“Is there going to be enough to burn?” Sean asked. “This place seems pretty barren.” He seemed to be getting subdued again; he tended to look around, as if searching for something indefinite.
“King Dor said we’d get some help,” Jim reminded him. He hoped the King was right.
“Something’s coming!” Mary said. “But I fear not good.”
Jim looked. “I fear you are right. I think those are harpies.”
The awful creatures were battered by the winds, but compensating, heading for the plateau from the south. Jim looked around for sticks that could be used as clubs or staffs. They were going to need defensive weapons, unless they retreated to the RV—in which case they wouldn’t get their job done.
“I’ll check,” Mentia said. She assumed the form of a huge harpy and flew out to meet the dirty birds.
“Something else,” Mary said.
This was from the north, and it was huge. In fact, it looked very much like a roc. No sticks would beat off that monster! Even the sanctity of the RV might not suffice against a creature that size.
“Look at that!” Sean exclaimed. “A basket!”
“It must be Chlorine and Nimby,” Mary said, relieved. “They are supposed to rejoin us here.”
“Carried by a roc,” Jim agreed, remembering. “With all the other distractions, it slipped my mind.”
“The dust does that,” she agreed. He wasn’t quite certain what she might mean by it, and didn’t care to inquire.
The monstrous bird glided to a landing on the middle of the mesa, carefully setting the basket down. From it three emerged: Chlorine, Nimby, and a splendidly sparkling huge chick. The roc folded her wings and settled down like a huge hen. But her eyes were watchful. They were the eyes of a mother, or a guardian. Jim had seen that look on Mary, on occasion.
The family convened and approached the new arrivals as a group. “Remember,” Jim warned the children, “that bird is sapient. She understands everything we say, and she is a figure of considerable importance in Xanth. Treat her like royalty.” For this was one of the things that King Dor had explained. There would be no threats to their mission, as long as Roxanne Roc was present. It wasn’t just the power of the roc, which was formidable; it was that it was backed by all the other winged monsters of Xanth—and indeed, most other creatures, including humans.
Chlorine greeted them with hugs that even the children didn’t seem to mind. She wore an incongruously Mundane windbreaker jacket that did not succeed in making her less attractive. Then she made introductions. “This is Roxanne Roc, the third most important bird in Xanth.” She made a little bow to the roc, who nodded her head affirmatively. “And this is Sim, short for the Simurgh Junior, the second most important bird in Xanth. Roxanne is minding him for his mother, the most important bird, the Simurgh. We all will protect Sim with our lives, if
necessary.”
“Yes,” Jim agreed for the family.
Chlorine turned to face the roc. “And this is the Mundane family Baldwin: Jim, Mary, Sean, David, Karen, Woofer, Midrange, and Tweeter. May the animals play with Sim?”
The huge head nodded. Jim was surprised by the trust shown, but realized that Roxanne, too, had been briefed. The three pets were now intelligent and disciplined, and they also understood.
The lustrous chick stepped forward. He was about Woofer’s size, and his every baby feather gleamed iridescently in the sunlight as he moved. “Cheep!”
“Woof.”
“Meow.”
“Peep.”
Then all four fell over laughing. It seemed that either they had shared some animal joke, or were all in excellent humor.
Now Mentia appeared, coalescing from a swirl of smoke. “Oh, hello, Roxanne,” she said. “I’m Mentia, Metria’s worser half. We met during your trial.”
The huge head nodded again, remembering.
The demoness turned to Jim. “The harpies aren’t here to fight; they’re bringing wood for the fire. Word has really gotten around. Nobody wants Xanth to be blown away.”
Indeed, Jim saw that the dirty birds were swooping over the edge of the mesa and dropping sticks of wood. That would be a great help. “Thank them for us,” he said.
“I did. They say that more winged monsters will be coming with more fuel. This is their sacred meeting place, and it’s under chronic truce; no quarreling here unless someone really asks for it. So you won’t have to fear the monsters, but don’t push your luck.”
“That’s a relief,” Mary murmured. She had been watching the children and pets somewhat warily, exactly as the roc was. They were playing a game of lines and boxes in the sand, taking turns drawing the lines and scratching in the X’s, and all were similarly intent.
“If you will excuse me, I have a job to do,” Jim said.
Mary looked doubtful. “I should help you,” she said. But she was evidently reluctant to leave the children and pets unattended.
“I’ll help you,” Mentia said.
“So will I,” Chlorine said.
Then, of course, Sean was interested, and Nimby. But Mary did not look reassured.
Mentia floated over to her. “This is the safest place in Xanth for children,” she said. “Roxanne guards Sim, and anyone Sim associates with, and all other winged monsters and most of the rest of Xanth supports her in this.”
“We know,” Jim said.
But Mary wanted more specific reassurance. She looked at Nimby, who nodded. “Then I will join you,” she said, clearly relieved.
So was Jim. It was not that he minded the proximity of lovely creatures like Mentia and Chlorine, but he felt easier if Mary was also close. And he shared Mary’s concern about Sean, who was too obviously intrigued by those same creatures, neither of whom was exactly shy with men.
They went to the growing pile of wood. The harpies had gone, but other winged monsters were bringing more: dragons, griffins, and some he couldn’t exactly classify. Some were of considerable size, but they were all business; they dropped their loads and flew on.
But the wind was still rising, and the haze of magic dust was thickening. He saw how it affected the flying creatures, who were becoming increasingly unsteady, as if on mind-altering drugs. He felt just enough of the effect to appreciate its likely potency on the magical creatures. A significant part of the reason this mission had been given to a Mundane family was its lack of magic: not only could Jim and the others not do any magic, they were resistant to its effects. So, like the sane demoness, they could carry through while others were going crazy.
Many hands did make light work. Soon they had a fine bonfire going, sending up an enormous plume of roiling smoke. Now the winged monsters brought buckets of water, which they dumped at Jim’s directive. This made a huge hissing, and added swirling steam to the mix. The result was a burgeoning cloud that loomed over the plateau and extended beyond it as the wind tugged at its fringes.
Magic dust infused the cloud, animating it. A gaseous face formed, glaring around. Jim would have thought he was imagining it, but the others saw it too. “Make a noise!” he yelled at it. “Show us what you’re made of, fogface!” For even the inanimate, even illusions, had feelings in this magical realm. He had come to appreciate that when he had seen Sean and Karen employ mockery to drive off ugly illusions.
The cloud obliged by rumbling.
“You can do better than that!” he told it. “What kind of a wisp of vapor are you?”
This time the roar of sound was explosive. It could surely be heard for many miles. Which was the point.
Then there was a sound behind him, of a different nature. He looked, and saw Roxanne Roc taking off. “Where’s she going?” he asked, alarmed.
Nimby wrote a note. Che and Cynthia Centaur are getting blown away by the ill wind, so Roxanne is rescuing them. Che is Sim’s tutor.
Oh. Of course the sparkling chick would need competent education, so had a centaur tutor. And the wind was now so fierce and dusty that even the dragons had sought refuge on the mesa. They had done their part; the smoke/steam/dust cloud was now a hovering monster.
“Who is watching the children?” Mary asked sharply.
Who, indeed? They hurried across to where the children and animals were still engrossed in their game. There was a huge dragon matron watching them, wisps of fire showing as she breathed. It seemed that the roc had arranged for a substitute.
Jim and Mary turned back to the bonfire. Only in Xanth would parents see a dragon looming over their children, and depart with confidence!
Then a speck appeared on the horizon. It grew rapidly. It was the roc, clutching a tiny creature in each great set of talons. As she came closer, they saw that each creature was a young winged centaur, one male, the other female. Each would have been about eleven years old, in human terms.
“We had better meet them,” Mary said. Jim agreed, and they turned back.
Roxanne landed, simultaneously depositing the two centaurs safely on the ground. Demoness Mentia appeared. “Che and Cynthia Centaur,” she said, introducing them. “Jim and Mary Mundane.”
“We heard how you turned back to help Xanth,” Cynthia said. She was a pretty thing, whose brown tresses matched her equine hide. She was bare-chested, but not (quite) yet developed.
Che looked at the child and pet game. “This may be an opportune time for a math lesson,” he remarked.
“You’re teaching that chick math already?” Jim asked, surprised.
“He is a very bright bird, and he has a great deal to learn,” Che said.
“He has to know everything in the universe by the time he’s mature,” Cynthia added.
Jim nodded. “Agreed. That is a great deal. But can you teach math when your judgment is being distorted by the growing madness?”
“Quantum math,” Che said. “Insanity is an asset to that study.”
Startled, Jim had to agree. Centaurs were indeed extremely intelligent.
“Say, where’s Gwenny Goblin?” Mentia inquired. “Don’t you have to be her Companion?”
“She released me from that obligation,” Che said. “She is grownup now, with good vision and posture, and she governs Goblin Mountain, so is in no further danger of awkward questioning. But we shall always remain close friends, and I expect to visit her often. Sim should like to meet her, too, in due course.”
“It works for me,” the demoness agreed.
The centaurs went to join the young folk, and Jim and Mary returned to the bonfire. “Do you think this is going to work?” she asked worriedly.
“If it doesn’t, we’ll be left stranded on a mesa with no safe way down,” he said evasively.
She did not challenge that. They came to the fire, which was still burning smokily, but now the wind was so strong that the cloud was being blown away as fast as it formed. Had it been enough? There would be no more wood; the winged monsters coul
d no longer dare fly, and were now too crazy anyway. The madness had them writhing on the ground and growling at nothing.
Actually, Chlorine was looking somewhat distorted, though Nimby seemed unaffected. Jim kept seeing fantastic things with his peripheral vision, which faded when he looked directly at them. The madness was laying siege to them all.
“Look!” Chlorine cried. “Fracto!”
And there, on the horizon to the north, was the edge of a looming black cloud. Fracto was coming! The manifestation of a rival cloud had gotten the mean mist’s attention.
The magic dust enhanced Fracto, too. In two and a half moments the baleful cloud expanded to ugly proportions. Purple blisters swelled and burst. Gray-green depths turned brown-black. They became malignant eyes. A cruel mouth formed. There was a whistle of wind as it inhaled, getting ready to blow out an icy blast.
It was time to act. “Fracto!” Jim called. “Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, King of clouds. Listen to me! I have a deal for you.”
The cloud hesitated, surprised. The blast did not come.
“Xanth is in trouble,” Jim called. “Xanth needs your help.”
The mouth resumed inhaling. Fracto did not care about Xanth’s welfare.
“We can offer you something really nice,” Jim called.
The cloud paused again. The eyes narrowed. A curl of mist formed in the shape of a question mark.
“Romance! Another storm, only female.” This sounded crazy, but it was a crazy situation. King Dor had reviewed it carefully with him, and now he retained sufficient sanity to carry it through. “Not this smoke cloud. That was only to get your attention. A real storm, the strongest Xanth has seen. Ideal for you.”
The spongy face showed definite interest. Fracto seldom had any prospect for compatible companionship. He must be really hungry for it. The mouth formed a perfect O and a gust of wind emerged. He was asking WHO?
“Her name is Happy Bottom,” Jim called. “She’s from Mundania.”
The cloud face recoiled.
“No, wait! She is no longer Mundane. She has swept up a lot of magic dust and become magic. But she doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know how to use her new power. She is wasting it with random blowing, not realizing her potential. She’s becoming so strong she’s going to blow Xanth away. Then she’ll fade, of course. But with proper instruction she could learn to be the kind of magic storm she could be, with all that magic dust, and turn Xanthian. But she will need a teacher—and only you have the capacity to teach her this. Only you can tame this shrew. Only you can calm yon ill wind. If you do, you will have a wonderful female of your kind. I leave the rest to your imagination.” He wasn’t sure just how much imagination a cloud could have, but it was clear that this cloud was conscious.
Yon Ill Wind Page 22
