Vale of the Vole

by Piers Anthony

  “Did I embarrass you?” Bria inquired.

  And there was the other aspect of that trap! He wanted to tell her the truth, that she had inadvertently embarrassed him, through no fault of her own, but he knew that would only complicate things. “I, uh, embarrassed myself,” he said.

  She laughed. “You’re going to have trouble settling that!”

  Trouble, indeed! He knew she was only teasing him; possibly she understood about the reflection. Why couldn’t his emotion follow his intellect, and accept the brassie girl as a temporary acquaintance?

  The river broadened, until they were walking well away from either shore. Now water lilies spread across its calm surface, obscuring the reflections, which was a relief. But where was the path going? It seemed to have little concern about its destination; sometimes it bore north, sometimes south, and sometimes east or west. Now it was heading out into what promised to become a lake. When would it get serious about its destination?

  Abruptly it stopped. Latia, now leading the way, suddenly splashed into the lake beside a big green lily pad.

  Esk dropped to his belly on the solid portion of the path and reached down to haul her out. His questing hand caught her bony ankle. He yanked on it—and felt the sting of a slap. What was happening?

  Then Latia’s head poked up. “Sorry, Esk—I thought you were a leech or something. It’s all right—the path is down here. Just step down and reorient.” Her head resubmerged.

  “Did you notice—her hair wasn’t even wet,” Bria said.

  Esk hadn’t noticed, but now he recalled it. He had reached into the water, but his arm was dry.

  He stepped off the end of the path, and dropped into the water. He was holding his breath, but it didn’t seem necessary; he wasn’t really submerged. In a moment his body twisted around, and he found his feet coming to rest against the underside of the lily pad. He was standing upside down, in the lake!

  He tried breathing, and it was all right. He saw fish in the water, swimming normally, which was inverted compared to him, but to him the water was air.

  He looked down (up) the way he had come, and saw Bria’s legs. They were very nice legs, all the way up. Yet again he wrenched away his gaze and tried to stifle a blush.

  Then Bria jumped in. She spun about and landed beside him on the lily pad, which bowed with their weight. “Careful,” she said. “We don’t want to break through and fall out through the sky!”

  Esk stepped across to the next lily pad. He discovered that these pads had no stems; they were just there. He squatted and touched his finger to the lake surface between pads. His hand broke through the surface tension and dangled in the air.

  “We’d better stick to the pads,” he said. “I think they’re the stepping stones.”

  They moved on, following the irregular trail of green pads. Finally the slope of the lakebed descended, requiring them to duck their heads. When it became so shallow that they could not walk, Esk tried stepping through the surface and resuming normal orientation.

  He found himself thigh-deep in the lake, looking at a solid jungle of thorns. The path did not continue in this direction!

  Latia emerged. “There they are,” she said. “Cloudstones.”

  Esk looked. There above the lake was a small line of tiny clouds, the nearest and lowest within stepping range.

  He shrugged and stepped onto it. It depressed a little, wobbling, but sustained his weight. He stepped quickly to the next, which was higher and larger, and this one was more stable.

  Bria emerged. “Oh, I like this world better and better!” she exclaimed. “We don’t have anything like this in the gourd!”

  Esk refrained from pointing out that he hadn’t seen it in this world either, until now. Maybe he just hadn’t traveled enough, before.

  The cloudstones took them safely across the lake and down to the far shore. Why the path hadn’t gone directly there Esk couldn’t guess, but he was in no position to question its rationale. Just so long as it got them to ogre country within three days!

  At last the path resumed normal operation, proceeding directly north through mixed terrain—until they came to the mirror.

  It stood across the path, a vertical full-length sheet of glass, big enough to reflect a complete man. Esk would have crashed right into it, because it reflected the path perfectly, making it look like a continuation—but he saw himself approaching and realized what it was before colliding. So he stopped, and admired his somewhat bedraggled image. Bria looked much better, but Latia looked worse.

  He peered around the mirror. Beyond was a dense, impenetrable curse-burr patch. To the sides were itch plants. Above was the foliage of a poison acorn tree. This was a dead end that was really deadly!

  “There has to be a way,” Latia muttered. “Maybe this is a door.” She poked her finger experimentally at the glass.

  Her finger passed through it without resistance. “I think I have found it,” she said, as her hand and then her arm disappeared into the mirror. The reflection showed only that portion of her that was on the near side.

  “But we don’t know what’s in there!” Esk warned, for he saw that her arm was not emerging from the other side of the mirror. It was like the hole in the tree: it came out elsewhere.

  “The other end of the path, obviously,” she said, and put her head through. In a moment the rest of her disappeared, and the mirror was clear.

  “You look a mess,” Bria said, contemplating Esk’s reflection. “Let me comb your hair.” She brought out a brass comb from somewhere.

  “Uh, but—” he protested weakly.

  “Oh, did I embarrass you? I’d better apologize.”

  “No, no, that’s all right!”

  “It’s best to be sure.” She put her arms around him.

  Esk knew he should protest some more, but he lacked the gumption. She squeezed him closely and kissed him, and she was warm and soft and fascinating. He closed his eyes, and knew that he would not have known she was brass from the present feel of her. Again he felt as if he were floating.

  “If—if you are made of hard metal,” he said as she released him, “how can you be so—so—?”

  “Oh, I can be quite soft when I want to be,” she said.

  “After all, we brassies couldn’t move very well if we remained absolutely rigid.”

  “But your mother—that dent—”

  “The ogre caught her by surprise. He picked her up by her brassiere, then dropped her on the brass hat of the man below.”

  Esk began to get a notion where the dent might have been. “I see. So it was an accident. But wouldn’t the dent have undented when she turned soft again?”

  “No, dents are the most permanent kinds of things. She’s still got it; she pretends it’s a dimple.”

  “I can see why you dislike ogres.”

  “No, I always thought it was romantic. I’d like to meet an ogre myself.”

  “Well, I’m part ogre.”

  “I know,” she said softly. Then: “Oops, did I embarrass you? You’re blushing again.”

  “No, no, it’s all right!” he said.

  But she decided to play it safe, and apologized in her fashion.

  “Well,” Latia remarked, stepping out of the mirror. “I can see that you folk were really concerned about my welfare while I was in the mirror.”

  “Uh—” Esk said.

  “Don’t tell me, let me guess. She embarrassed you.”

  “It’s amazing how often I do that,” Bria remarked innocently. “I must be very clumsy about outside world ways.”

  “To be sure,” Latia agreed dryly. “Well, I’m here to report that the path continues beyond. It’s an odd scene, but presumably it is what we want.”

  They stepped through the mirror. The other side was indeed strange; instead of being a mirror, it seemed like a clear pane of glass, showing the path they had just come from. A one-way mirror—what strange magic!

  The path ahead was glass, too, reflective in the manner
of the lake surface. The scenery to the sides was odder yet; it was all of glass. The brush was greenly tinted glass, and the trees had brownly tinted trunks and greenly foliage. A grayly tinted glass rabbit bounded away as they approached, and a redly tinted glass bird sailed overhead.

  “It reminds me of home, a little,” Bria said. “Only there everything is of brass.”

  “We’ll get you home when we can,” Esk reassured her.

  “Oh, I’m not homesick! This is a wonderful adventure. I’m just comparing.”

  The glassy forest opened out into a glassy plain, with many glass blades. Creamly tinted glass animals glazed on it. They made glassy moo-sounds and moo-ved away, worried by the nonglass intruders.

  Glazed? Grazed, Esk realized. Then again—

  Then a glassy unicorn charged up, ridden by a glassy man. The man dismounted and strode toward the party, drawing a shining glass blade. He spoke with the sound of breaking cutlery, brandishing the weapon. “Your glass will be ass!”

  “No,” Esk said, realizing that the glassy man meant mischief.

  The man changed his mind. He remounted his glass steed, and they galloped away, sending up a cloud of glass dust.

  “Let’s move on through here quickly,” Latia suggested. “I don’t think these folk are friendly.”

  They hurried on along the path. Soon they came to another sheet of glass. “This should be our exit,” Latia said. “But I’ll just check. You two can get back to what you were doing.” She stepped through the glass, and they watched her walk around a curve in the path beyond.

  “What were we doing?” Bria inquired brightly.

  “Uh—”

  “Oh, yes, I was apologizing to you. I don’t remember what for, but better safe than sorry.”

  “But you don’t need to—”

  Her warm kiss cut him off. He decided that it was pointless to protest. Bria was correct: she could be very soft when she chose to be.

  Yet her body was entirely brass, and some of her ways were brassy too. Any expectations he might have were foolish. He knew this; in fact he was absolutely sure of this. Yet somehow he doubted.

  Latia returned, coming around the curve and stepping through the glass. “Yes, it’s our path,” she reported. “And it seems to be near the ogre fen.”

  “Oh? How do you know?” Esk asked.

  “Oh, nothing specific. Trees twisted into pretzels, boulders cracked with hairy fist marks on them, dragons slinking about as if terrified of anything on two legs. Perhaps I am mistaken.”

  Esk didn’t press the case.

  They stepped through the glass. Esk turned to look back, and it was a mirror, showing nothing of the glassies beyond. That had been another interesting experience!

  Latia had described the terrain accurately. They were definitely in ogre country. Esk felt nervous; he had ogre ancestry, but little direct experience with full ogres. This could be a disaster.

  Soon they heard a great crashing, as of trees getting knocked down. An ogre stomped into view, carelessly sweeping brush and rocks aside with one ham fist while picking his monstrous yellow teeth with the tenpenny nails of the other ham hand.

  This seemed like a worse and worse idea. This was a plain animal brute! The ogre stood twice Esk’s height, and was so ugly that clouds of smog formed wherever it glanced.

  “Oooo, what a beast!” Bria murmured admiringly.

  The ogre heard her. His shaggy puss swung around to aim at her. “What this me see—one tiny she!” he exclaimed.

  “We came to talk to you ogres,” Esk called.

  Now the ogre spied the rest of the party. “He walk, to talk?” Ogres lacked facility with pronouns, because they were very stupid.

  “Yes, we walk to talk,” Esk said. “Please take us to your leader.”

  The ogre scratched his hairy head. Giant fleas dodged out of the way of his dirty nail. “Want to take, no mistake?”

  “No mistake,” Esk agreed.

  “Okay, you say!” And the ogre reached out and grabbed Esk, hauled him up, and jammed him into the huge backpack he wore. Then he grabbed Latia and Bria and treated them similarly.

  “I hope you know what he’s doing,” Latia muttered.

  “I hope so too,” Esk muttered back.

  The ogre strode on, shoving brush and trees out of his way, while the pack jogged violently with his motion. The three clung to the rim and the straps, because getting bounced out would lead to a painful fall.

  The ogre arrived at an ogre village. There was a huge fire in its center, beside which sat a great black pot.

  “Heat pot!” the ogre bellowed. “Me got!”

  “Uh-oh,” Esk said. The pot was full of water, but he could see some bones in the bottom. They reminded him of Marrow, and that was not reassuring.

  The ogre swung the pack off and brought it to the pot. He began to invert it.

  “No!” Esk cried.

  Perplexed, the ogre paused. “No so?”

  “We came to talk, not to be cooked!” Esk yelled.

  Other ogres had appeared, including several females. If the males were ugly, the females were appalling. “We look, not cook?” one inquired, scratching her head so vigorously that the lice scattered in terror.

  “We want your help for the voles!” Esk cried, wishing he had never undertaken this foolish mission.

  “Put vole in bowl!” another ogre exclaimed, smacking his lips with a sound that startled the birds from a distant tree.

  “We came to impress you with the need for this,” Esk said, knowing that the chances of impressing these monsters with anything they had to say was so small as to be worthless.

  “Such mess, impress?” the ogre who had brought them demanded, and all of them laughed with a volume and crudity that only their kind could manage.

  “Yes, impress,” Esk continued doggedly. “For your help.”

  The first ogre thought about that. His cranium heated with the effort, and the fleas got hotfeet and jumped off. Finally he exclaimed: “Me say okay!”

  The other ogres, glad to be relieved of the horrible effort of having to think for themselves, bellowed their agreement.

  “Wonderful,” Latia said. “Now all we have to do is impress them, and our case is won.”

  “Maybe we can do that,” Bria said brightly. “We each have our natures and our talents.”

  “I’m not sure—” Esk began.

  “For example, I can be very hard when I want to be. I’ll show you.” She climbed out of the pack, which the ogre had set on the ground beside the pot. “Eat me, ogre!” she cried. “Chew me up!”

  The ogre did not wait for a second invitation. He snatched her up a moment before three other ham hands reached her, and jammed her feet in his maw. He chomped.

  There was a pause. Then slow surprise spread across his puss from the region of his maw. For his teeth had crunched something much harder than bone.

  He pulled Bria out and looked at her. She still looked edible. “She sweet; me eat,” he concluded, and opened his maw wide and jammed in her head.

  But the teeth crunched again on hard metal. Bria’s head remained attached. “Can’t you do better than that, ogre?” she cried from the vicinity of his tongue.

  Confused, the ogre hauled her out. Immediately another ogre grabbed her and chomped on an arm. It was a powerful chomp; the sound of it rang metallically, startling a passing cloud so that it dropped a little water. A chip of yellow tooth flew out.

  “Tough, she, me agree,” the ogre confessed.

  “Do I impress you?” Bria demanded.

  The ogres exchanged glances. They were stupid glances, and traveled very slowly, so this took some time. The surrounding trees tilted away, worried when ogres acted strangely. But eventually they all nodded agreement; they were impressed.

  “So that’s how it goes,” Latia said. “Well, let’s see what I can do.” She climbed out of the pack and addressed the ogres. “Who is the ugliest among you?” she asked.

  An og
ress leaned forward. As she did so, all the nearby plants wilted. “Me be ugly, me say smugly!”

  She certainly was ugly; Esk had never seen a more horrendous puss.

  “I can be uglier than you,” Latia said.

  All the ogres laughed at this, not even needing time for thought. It was obvious that nobody could be uglier than the ogress.

  “Ugly is as ugly does,” Latia said stoutly. “What can your ugly do?”

  The ogress turned and lumbered into her hovel. A flock of bats flew out, looking stunned. She brought out a battered pitcher of milk. She grimaced at it—and the entire pitcher curdled.

  Esk gaped. That was ugly indeed! He had thought the stories about that sort of thing were exaggerated.

  Then Latia put her hands to her head. She had powder and chalk, and was using these to make up her face.

  “What’s she doing?” Bria asked.

  “She’s an actress,” Esk said. “All curse fiends are good at drama. They can make themselves quite pretty—and I guess ugly, if they want to.”

  Latia looked up. Her face, homely to begin with, had been transformed. Now it so ugly it was sickening. But the ogres just looked, undismayed; they were used to ugly.

  Then Latia walked over to the big pot. “Lift me up,’ she said.

  Curious, an ogre picked her up and held her over the pot. Latia aimed her face down, and scowled.

  The water curdled.

  Esk gaped. So did the ogres.

  “Well?” Latia inquired, as the ogre set her down.

  “We confess, we impress,” an ogre muttered, still staring at the pot. He poked a ham finger in. The water was definitely curdled, not frozen. It clarified in the region of his finger, finding this to be relatively pretty.

  Esk remembered how his grandmother, a curse fiend, had emulated an ogress and won his grandfather’s love. At last he had a notion how she had done it.

  But now it was his turn. What could he do to match what the women had done? If he got mad, he could develop ogre strength for a short time—but that would only match the strength every normal ogre had, not exceed it. That would not impress them.