“Come into my office, Demoness,” he said, with a calm fraught with such menace as to be terrifying.
“Sure, Prof.” She popped in, shoring up her weak knees with metallic bracing.
He popped in after her. “Now, to what do I owe the displeasure of this intrusion, Demoness?” he demanded the moment his glower softened enough to allow the words out. “Even your mushmind must know better than to interrupt one of my classes—which you have now done twice.”
She shored up her spine, stiffened her jaw, and spoke. “You know that trial? The one you’re going to judge?”
“Of course I know that trial, you exasperating creature! I have scheduled it into my calendar.”
“Well, you do want all the Jurors there, don’t you?”
“I want every creature there who is supposed to be there, of course. Why aren’t you out fetching them all in?”
“Because I can’t find Jenny Elf. Do you know where she is?”
“Of course I know where she is!”
“Then tell me, and I’ll begone.”
“Ah, the temptation,” he murmured. Then his eyes scowled into canniness. “Demoness, it is not my chore to locate the folk on your list for you. What will you do for me, in exchange for that information?”
Her aplomb dropped and bounced on the floor. She hastily stooped to recover it, stretching her miniskirt tight in the process. “Why, Prof, I didn’t know you cared. You mean all those centuries I flashed my full-fleshed short-skirted legs at you, and my translucent well-filled blouses, weren’t wasted? You actually noticed?”
“Of course I didn’t! Neither did I observe that you wore a different color of panty every day, including tasteless candy-stripe and polka-dot with no material in the dots, in contrast to the more conservative matching herringbone undergarments you have on now. Why should I deign to notice the apparel of a student who never completed one single assignment?”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “So since you don’t want anything interesting of me, what’s on your potent mind, Prof?”
His glare focused into a gaze of disturbing intensity. “I have a son,” he announced.
She knew that, but had to maintain her pose. “Well, then, you must have looked under the skirt of some student demoness once. Never again, eh, Prof?”
“Cease your ludicrous efforts to bait me, Demoness. You know my son, Demon Prince Vore. He consumes others.”
“Yes, I tried to seduce him once, but he ate me instead. He’s a real brute. Maybe he mistook my candy-stripe undies for the real thing. What’s your point, Prof? It’s not like you to be so mushy about business.”
She thought he would explode, but instead he deflated. “Touche, Demoness. You may indeed have the ability to accomplish my desire.”
“No, I can’t harangue a formerly self-respecting class into a mound of quivering mush,” she said.
“I am speaking of your propensity for aggravation. I have not encountered any creature to better you in that respect.”
“Why, thank you, Prof!” she said, turning pastel pink. “And to think I achieved it without completing one single assignment!”
“And supreme talent must be respected, whatever its nature. I want you to exert yourself on behalf of my son.”
“I told you, when I tried—”
“He’s young, foolish, and imperative. But it’s time he matured. He is, after all, about twenty-three, in human terms.”
“Which is twenty-three hundred in demon terms, but who’s counting?”
“Precisely. I think the only thing that will settle him down is marriage.”
“Now, wait, Prof! I’m already married.”
“Yes, I remember. I performed the ceremony.”
“And you knew I’d get half-souled and develop a conscience, love, loyalty, and all that,” she said accusingly. “That I’d be hopelessly tied down by my new awareness of things right, proper, and decent”
“To be sure. And that is what I want for my son.”
Her eyes went so round, they bowed out of her face. “Oh, Prof, you play dirty! Your son will rue the day he ever became related to you.”
“Naturally. And some century he may even squeeze some of the mush from his skull. He actually does possess some qualities to be recommended. He is honorable, handsome, intelligent, and has fair judgment about things. He merely requires seasoning, to reduce his natural bloodthirstiness. Find me a souled woman for him to marry, and convince him to marry her. That is what I want from you, you impertinent tease.”
“All that—in exchange for telling me where Jenny Elf is?”
“To be sure.”
“I’d be crazy to make that deal!”
“Ask your worser self.”
‘Make that deal, blockhead,’ Mentia said. ‘The Professor always has something devious in mind. You have only to rise to the occasion.’
Metria sighed. Her worser self had good judgment in crazy situations, and she would have to trust that. “Agreed. So where’s Jenny Elf?”
“In the naga caves.”
“What’s she doing there?”
“After she and Nada Naga were released from the Companions game, they found they liked each other. Nada invited Jenny to stay with them, and she accepted. She has been there ever since. Her cat has been useful when the naga wish to locate things, such as plaid diamonds.”
“Now, why didn’t I think of that myself?” Metria asked rhetorically.
“Because your skull is filled with mush. Now I shall expect to see my son ready for marriage within a fortnight.”
“Great expectations,” she muttered as she popped off.
The naga caves were near the lair of Draco Dragon. The naga maintained reasonably cordial relations with the dragon, having a common enemy in the local goblin horde. Eventually Gwenny Goblin of Goblin Mountain would extend her authority to cover the cave goblins, but meanwhile they were their normal obnoxious selves. Fortunately the naga mutual-assistance treaty with the humans had shored up their resources, and the goblins had not been able to make headway against them.
She popped directly into the throne chamber. King Nabob was there, looking glum. He was in his natural form, that of a large serpent with a human head. He could become a full serpent or full human in form if he chose to, but evidently saw no need to when his natural form was so much better. “Hello, your majesty,” she said. “I’m Demoness Metria, looking for Jenny Elf. Why so gourd canine?”
He turned his crowned head toward her, seeming unsurprised by her appearance. Probably his daughter had told him about the odd demoness. “Hello, Metria. What kind of emotion?”
“Sadness, grief, affliction, lamentation, suffering, mortification—”
“Melancholy?”
“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.
He elected to be roundabout, as was the prerogative of senior heavyset Kings. “How is marriage treating you?”
“Actually, that’s what brings me her, by a devious route that wouldn’t interest you.”
“Well, it might. You see, I’m entertaining the monsters under my daughter’s bed while she’s out, and they really appreciate a good story.”
“But your daughter’s adult! She shouldn’t have monsters under her bed anymore.”
“True. But Jenny Elf does, and I’m old enough to be in my second childhood, so Fingers now resides under my throne, and Knuckles joins him there at times.”
“Oh. May I meet them?”
“Not if you’re adult.”
Woe Betide appeared. “Gee, I’d really like to meet them,” she said, a huge tear welling.
The King nodded. “Certainly; I’ll introduce you. Woe, here are Fingers and Knuckles McPalm. Monsters, this is Woe Betide, a childish demoness.”
Two hands flickered briefly from the shadow under the throne. Bed monsters were very shy in daytime.
So Metria reverted and told him the story. “And now I need to locate Jenny Elf, so I can serve her with her summons, and borrow her cat. Na
da too—she’s on the jury list as well.”
“They are off hunting plaid diamonds at the moment, but should return soon. Now I will tell you why I am so fruit dog, um, glum. It is because my daughter the Princess is twenty-six years old and unmarried, and my competence is fading. She must marry a Prince who can take over the reins and snows of power, yet she shows no sign of doing so.”
“What of your fine handsome son, Prince Naldo? Can’t he take the snows?”
“He married beneath him. Mind you, the merwoman is a fine figure of a woman, very fine, especially in salt water, but not fit to be Queen of the naga. So Nada will have to take up the slack, and beguile a suitable Prince soon. Otherwise our people will lose credence, and the goblins will gain confidence and encroach. Unfortunately, Princes do not grow on trees, and she refuses even to consider any who happen to be younger than she is. So she continues to get older, while the naga prospects wane.”
Metria began to get a glimmer of the devious notion the Demon Professor had. He had known there was a highly eligible Princess here. “How about a demon prince?” she asked.
“Demons are soulless creatures, capable of any mischief, and not to be trusted,”
“Suppose one got souled, or at least half-souled?”
“Why, then he would be eligible,” Nabob said, surprised. “But demons seldom have souls, because they avoid them, knowing their consequence. In fact, it may be fairly stated that the only likely way to burden a demon with a soul is by trickery.”
“Such as by marrying a mortal with a soul,” Metria agreed. “And having one perform the ceremony in such a way that half the mortal’s soul transfers.”
“Exactly. How did you know?”
“I learned the hard way, when I married a mortal. I thought it was temporary, but I changed my mind when I got souled.”
Nabob suddenly was extremely interested. “You know of a suitable demon Prince?”
“Prince Vore, Professor Grossclout’s son. Grossclout wants him married within the fortnight. He believes a few decades of marriage would settle the Prince down, and maybe squeeze a bit of mush from his skull.”
“This is fascinating news! But I can think of two significant objections.”
“Vore and Nada,” Metria said. “Neither will want to marry the other.”
“Precisely. It is not feasible to apply coercive measures to royal scions. It’s bad precedent, and makes for negative family relations. So I’m afraid this won’t slither.”
“Yet there must be a way. There’s always a way to fulfill Gross-clout’s requirement, however devious. That’s how he teaches his classes. It is merely necessary to squeeze the mush out and find it.”
“I wonder,” he said thoughtfully. “It reminds me of something probably irrelevant—”
“That’s also the way Grossclout’s examples work. I have seen it hundreds of times, in the course of ignoring his classes. The very thing a mushmind passes over as irrelevant turns out to be the answer.”
“This is a story we tell our children about demon interference in human relations. I believe it actually derives from Mundania, wher the only magic exists in their imagination. It’s called the demons’ beauty contest.”
“But demons can assume any form. I am beautiful because I choose to be; my inner essence is as ugly as ever. Any beauty contest among our kind would be meaningless.”
“True. My daughter’s human form is beautiful for similar reason. So these demons had a different kind of contest. The male demon chose a very handsome mortal Prince, and the female chose a lovely mortal Princess. Or maybe it was the other way around. The judgement was which of the two mortals was better looking.”
“But demons wouldn’t agree,” she protested. “He would insist that his mortal was best, and she would insist that hers was best. Demons are extremely unreasonable, because their opinions are as malleable as their bodies.”
“Precisely. So they needed a different way to judge the contest—a way that did not depend on the opinions of demons.”
“But what would that be? They certainly wouldn’t accept the opinions of mortals.”
“Yes they would. Or they did in the story. They brought the two fair mortals together naked and let them judge.”
“This is absolutely crazy! Two mortals who didn’t even know each other? They’d both run in opposite directions. Mortals can be very skittish about clothing, or the lack of it. Especially when they are of opposite sexes.”
“It was handled in this maimer: The demons caused the mortals to sleep deeply. They put them together, then woke them in turns. So he got to look at her while she slept, and then she got to look at him while he slept. Naturally the two reacted in certain ways, and the one who reacted most to the other was deemed to be the less beautiful. Thus did the demons stage and judge their beauty contest.”
Metria was thoughtful. “This is a most intriguing notion. Are you suggesting that we put your daughter and the professor’s son together asleep, and stage a beauty contest? That might be interesting and fun to do, but it wouldn’t get them married to each other.”
“Are you sure? In the story the demons satisfied themselves that the man was the prettier of the two, then put both to sleep again and returned them to their homes. But when the two mortals woke, far apart, each yearned for the other, and neither rested until they were together.”
“Because each had had a real chance to inspect the other at close range,” Metria said. “That might indeed work. It is certainly worth a try. D. Vore is one terrific catch, and he is a Prince. Nada is Xanth’s loveliest mortal female figure. They well might impress each other favorably, especially since both need to marry. But can we put them to sleep?”
“I have a sleeping potion I can slip to my daughter. Surely Professor Grossclout has something similar that will do for his son.”
“Then let’s do it!” she exclaimed, gratified.
Soon Nada Naga and Jenny Elf arrived back, with a small bag of plaid diamonds. Metria quickly served them both with their summonses, and explained about the trial, while King Nabob slithered quietly away to make preparations.
Metria popped back to the demon caves to talk to Grossclout again.
“Professor! Something else.”
He paused, midway in a step toward the cowering class. “My patience is being strained somewhat beyond the incendiary point, Demoness,” he rumbled.
“You want Vore to marry Nada, right? Suppose you make it a real occasion by marrying Grey Murphy and Princess Ivy at the same time? Nada and Ivy are close friends, and—”
“And it’s been nine years,” he agreed. “Ivy’s mother procrastinated too. Very well.”
Metria smiled. “Thanks, Prof!” Then she told him what else was required.
Within the hour the arrangements had been made. The demons’ beauty contest proceeded.
Demon Prince Vore woke to find himself in a strange situation. Wan light filtered down from above. He was in a small chamber whose walls extended well up beyond head height, and there were no doors or windows. Odder yet, there lay beside him a bare girl.
He looked again. This was no girl; this was a fully equipped mortal human-style woman. Her hair was reddish brown, and swirled around her body like a silken cloak. Her face was stunningly beautiful, and so was her body; he lifted her hair out of the way to make sure.
“If this is the creature my father has in mind for me to marry, she’ll do,” he remarked. “She looks good enough to eat. However, I have no intention of being coerced into anything, or of remaining cooped up here. I am, after all, a demon Prince, subject to the will of just about no one else.”
He tried to pop off—but nothing happened. He tried to dematerialize, but again nothing happened. He tried to fly, and could not. His demonly powers had been somehow stripped from him. What had happened?
He checked the circular wall of the chamber. It was firm, without crevice or opening. He pushed against it, but it did not yield. He tried to climb up it, but could fin
d no purchase.
Baffled, he returned to his consideration of the sleeping woman. “Who are you, lovely creature?” he inquired. She did not respond. He touched her slender arm, but she did not react. She was under a spell of some sort that kept her asleep.
A spell! That must be what had happened to him. Some magic had put him to sleep, and the lingering aftereffects still deprived him of his demonly powers. The girl might have been similarly enchanted, but being merely mortal, had not fought even partially out of it as he had.
Now he saw, almost hidden beneath the graceful mass of her tresses, a small golden crown set around her head. She was a Princess!
“Ah, but what a marvel of pulchritude you are, my dear,” he remarked. “And a Princess too. I would love to have a tryst with you, were you awake. But as it is, I must let you be, for I am an honorable creature.”
He sat beside her, watching her slow even breathing. It was most impressive. Then, suddenly, he knew no more.
Princess Nada Naga woke, surprised. One moment she had been about to retire in the pleasant cave she shared with Jenny Elf, and here she was in some strange chamber.
“Eeeeek!” she screamed, putting at least five E’s into it. There was a naked man lying beside her!
She scrambled to her feet, discovering in the process that she was nude herself. She tried to find the door, but there was none. Also no window. Only wan light sagging down from far above. She was in the bottom of a well!
She tried to change to serpent form, but could not. So she tried to revert to naga form, and could not do that either. Something was interfering with her natural shape-shifting ability. She realized that she had probably been put under some kind of spell, and had recovered from only part of it, so that she was now awake, but possessed of no other special abilities.
And this strange man must have been similarly treated. She sat down on the soft bed that filled the bottom of the well, and considered him more carefully. He was a handsome brute, firm of feature and muscular of body. And, as she peered more closely, she saw a light golden crown on his head. He was a Prince!
“I wish I had known about you before,” she murmured appreciatively. “I have been looking for a suitable Prince for more time than I care to confess. But of course, you’re probably obnoxious, as most males are, when awake.” She peered yet more closely. “And you look to be about twenty-three years old. Too young for me, because I am twenty-six.”
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