Roc and a Hard Place

by Anthony, Piers

  “We must’ve been blown through,” Karen agreed. “It sure was windy. Till we were in the eye.”

  “An eye gazed at you?”

  She giggled. “The eye of the hurry-cane. Happy Bottom.”

  “Cheerful posterior?” The centaur glanced at his handsome rump.

  “You’re funny! The center of the storm.”

  “Ah, the storm. We shall have to see what we can do. Let us introduce ourselves. I am Cedric Centaur the tenth, of Centaur Isle.”

  “I’m Karen Baldwin,” Karen said.

  “I must say, you don’t look bald. Is that a magic hairpiece?”

  Karen felt her wild tangle of blown, slept-in hair. “I don’t think so. It’s just the way I grew it. It’s always wild in the morning until Mom brushes it down.”

  Cedric smiled. “Our foals have a similar problem. We try to keep the tangle weeds clear, but more keep appearing.”

  “Should we shake hands?” Karen asked, uncertain of the protocol.

  Cedric lifted one hand and made it shake slightly. “I do not see the point, unless you are bothered by flies.”

  She suppressed another titter. “No, I mean our two hands together, to show we are friendly.”

  “How quaint.”

  She raised her hand high, and the centaur reached his hand low, and they shook hands. “And that’s my family,” she said, nodding behind her. Dad had been joined by the others, all appearing some-what stunned.

  “Indubitably. Follow me.” He turned and walked away.

  Karen turned to address her family. “Well?” she inquired. “Are you coming?” She knew she had pretty well one-upped them, and it was a great feeling.

  The four of them exchanged about six glances in a scant second. Then they fell in behind without comment.

  The winds remained high, blowing the foliage of nearby trees to one side. Some of the foliage looked like green tentacles. It was pleasantly weird.

  Cedric led them to a village made of stalls. There were other centaurs there: stallions, mares, fillies, colts, and foals. None of them wore any clothing. Only the smallest paid them any attention. They were busy repairing damaged structures. The high winds had blown some of the stall roofs off.

  They came to a central pavilion where a young stallion of about Sean’s age stood. “I found these Mundanes near the shore,” Cedric said. “They call themselves the Baldwin family, and seem to be stranded here. There may be a rift in the Gate. Take care of the matter, Carleton.” He turned and trotted back the way they had come.

  Carleton stepped forward. “Welcome to Centaur Isle,” he said. “Unfortunately you can’t remain here, unless you care to become servants. As Mundanes, you have no magic, which is good; nevertheless I suspect you will be better off on mainland Xanth, among your own kind.”

  Dad finally got hold of himself. “Just exactly what kind of a place is this?”

  Carleton paused, briefly considering. “You have no prior knowledge of Xanth?”

  “Unless you are referring to a yellow nitrogenous compound, xanthine—” Dad paused at the centaur’s blank look. “Evidently not. Then we know nothing of this.”

  “Then perhaps we should exchange information,” Carleton said. “Would you like a meal while we converse?”

  “Yes!” Karen said, as usual, before she thought. They hadn’t had breakfast yet, and she was hungry.

  Carleton lifted one hand, and in a moment a filly centaur trotted over, her large full firm bare breasts quivering in a way that made Sean and David stare. Karen felt a tinge of resentment, because she knew that never in her fullest future adult maturity would she ever develop a bosom like that. “Yes, Carleton?” she inquired.

  “Sheila, these Mundanes are in need of fodder.”

  “Coming right up,” Sheila agreed, trotting bouncily off.

  “Fodder?” David asked.

  But soon the filly returned with big bowls of odd fresh fruit and other items. She set them on a table under the pavilion. “Yellows, greens, reds, and oranges,” she said, indicating the fruits. “Pink, purple, black, and blue berries. A loaf of breadfruit and a butterfly. And milkweed pods.” She glanced at Karen. “Including chocolate.”

  Mom lifted the breadfruit. It fell into several slices. She picked up the butterfly. Its wings detached and flew away, leaving the butter to be used. “These will do nicely,” she said, terrifically poised. “Thank you, Sheila.”

  The filly made a partial bow with her foresection that almost made Sean’s eyeballs pop out of his head. In fact, Karen’s own almost popped, and she was a girl. She had once sneaked a peek at an Xrated video, but these were more than those, and better formed. Then Sheila trotted off, evidently to Mom’s relief.

  Karen picked up the chocolate milkweed pod and sniffed it. Then she bit off the end. Sure enough, chocolate milk, and very good. Meanwhile the boys piled into the various-colored fruits and berries. Mom passed a slice of buttered bread to Dad, and started another for herself.

  “The Land of Xanth is magical,” Carleton said. “There are many magical artifacts, and most human beings possess magic talents, one to each person. Centaurs don’t, of course; we regard magic in our own kind as obscene. But sometimes it happens. My sister Chena—” He winced. “But that is irrelevant. We centaurs use magic tools on occasion, however. Beyond Xanth is Mundania, a rather dreary region because of its lack of magic. The normal route to Mundania is to the north and west, via the isthmus. That may be your route of choice, to return to your homeland. Now, if I may inquire, what are the details of your arrival here?”

  Dad filled him in on the drive and the storm, and how they’s stalled out on No Name Key. “You mentioned a gate,” he concluded. “That must be a connection between our two realms. The eye of the storm passed over us, and perhaps swept us into this, urn, dimension. Unless this is after all some experimental project on No Name Key.”

  “Centaur Isle is no experiment,” Carleton said firmly. “We constructed it centuries ago, from the scattered islets of the region. It is low on magic by our preference. But on the mainland you will see a great deal of magic, if you wish. However, I must advise you that much of it is dangerous to the uninitiated. Have you had experience with dragons?”

  “Dragons!” David exclaimed. “Really? Can I see one?”

  Carleton glanced coolly at him. “I doubt that would be wise. Dragons are best avoided, unless one is proficient with archery or has protective enchantment.”

  Mom spoke up. “Are you saying that the whole of Florida—of Xanth—is magical? That fantastic creatures abound there?”

  “Exactly. We can arrange to notify the human authorities at Castle Roogna of your presence. They may send a detachment to assist you, because you surely do not wish to travel Xanth alone.”

  “A castle?” Karen asked, excited anew. She loved anything fantastic.

  “Castle Roogna is the capital of the human beings,” the centaur explained. “Their King Dor should be interested.”

  “A King!” Karen exclaimed, really truly delighted. “This land’s got everything.”

  “But we can’t leave our RV,” Mom said, ruining things with her practicality. “We have to fix it and drive home.”

  “Not to mention the pets,” Dad added.

  That really got Karen. “Woofer! Midrange! Tweeter! They’re alone!”

  “They’ve been alone before, twerp,” David reminded her.

  “There are others in your party?” Carleton asked.

  “Our pet animals,” Sean explained. “We encountered you folk so suddenly that we never thought to fetch them out of the RV.”

  “What manner of creatures are these?”

  “Woofer’s a dog, Midrange’s a cat, and Tweeter’s a bird,” Karen said quickly. “They’re part of the family. We’ve got to get them.”

  “Of course you must, before you depart the Isle.”

  “First we have to get our RV running,” Dad said. “And—where’s the nearest gas station?”

  C
arleton’s brow furrowed. “I do not believe I know of that creature.”

  “For gasoline. The fuel. You don’t use gasoline here? Maybe you call it petrol?”

  “We do have pet-rel seabirds. However—”

  “Petroleum. Refined from oil.”

  The centaur shook his head. “I suspect we are on different subjects. Our pet-rels merely fly and seek fish. They do make good pets, of course, but they have no known connection with oil, apart from that with which they preen their feathers.”

  Dad shook his head. “I think we’re in trouble. But first things first. Maybe I can get the motor running. Then maybe we’ll have enough gas left to get us home, if we can find the way.”

  “This creature is ailing? You did say that it was limping.”

  “It’s not a creature,” Dad said. “It’s a motor home. A recreational vehicle, RV. The motor was skipping, and finally quit. Maybe salt water blew into it.”

  “Would healing elixir cure it?”

  Dad paused. “Maybe you should take a look at it, and form your own conclusion.”

  “Certainly. I will bring a vial of elixir.”

  They finished their meal, and started back. Karen was openly admiring Carleton’s handsome equine body. She liked all animals, but especially horses.

  The centaur caught her gaze. “You are small, Karen Human,” he said. “Would you prefer me to carry you?”

  She was immediately abashed. “Gee, no—I don’t know how to—someday maybe I’ll get riding lessons—I’d just fall off.” But how she longed to try it.

  “You will not fall,” he said.

  Karen looked pleadingly at Mom, who was sure to say no, but maybe possibly just this once might not. Mom sighed and looked away: her way of not quite opposing it.

  So Dad picked her up by the armpits and set her on the centaur’s sturdy back. She grabbed on to the fur in front of her, hoping she would be able to hold her position.

  Carleton took a step—and Karen didn’t lose her balance despite the lack of a saddle. Somehow the way he moved supported her, giving her confidence. It was as though he were balancing her, compensating for the motions he made. She was, indeed, in no danger of falling. It was glorious.

  They walked back to the RV. Now it was time to dismount, but Karen wasn’t sure how. Then the centaur put back one hand, and she grabbed his hand and steadied herself as she slid down. “Thank you! Thank you,” she babbled. “That was the greatest ride ever!”

  He smiled faintly. “You remind me of my little sister.”

  “Gee, where is she?”

  “She was exiled.” His mouth closed so firmly that she knew he would say no more on that subject.

  They entered the RV, where the pets were glad to see them. Sean put Woofer on a leash, and David did the same for Midrange. Some folk thought that cats couldn’t be leash-trained, but so many cats had been killed in the neighborhood, mostly getting hit by cars, that they had done it with this one, and Midrange was used to it.

  Tweeter was another matter. He always stayed close to Karen when they went out, and would come to her when she lifted a finger for him to perch on, so he had more freedom. She brought him out, proudly perched.

  All three animals were obviously surprised by the centaur. They stood and stared, evidently not sure whether to be friendly or hostile.

  “There is one on the mainland who has a cat-pet,” Carleton said. “Her name is Jenny Elf.” Then he turned to the vehicle. “This is a house?”

  “A combination house and motor vehicle,” Dad said. “You might call it a house that moves.”

  “A magic house,” the centaur agreed. “How does it move?”

  “The motor is connected to the wheels, making them turn and move it forward.” Dad opened the motor compartment. “Here is the motor. I couldn’t find any loose wires, so it’s something more subtle. I’m not an auto mechanic, so my expertise is limited.”

  “Mine is surely less, in this connection,” Carleton said. “I make no sense of this at all. Can you make it operate now?”

  “I’ll try, just in case.” Dad got in and cranked the starter. The motor coughed once, but wouldn’t catch.

  “Amazing,” the centaur said. “It does seem to be alive, but in very bad health. I will try the elixir.” He brought out a vial and sprinkled a few drops of liquid on the motor. Karen stifled a smile; she didn’t know beans about motors, but even she was sure that wouldn’t do a thing for it. She saw the boys reacting similarly.

  Dad tried the starter again—and the motor caught. Suddenly it was not only running, it was purring.

  Several jaws dropped. “That’s either one bleep of a coincidence,” Sean muttered. “Or—”

  Dad got out, leaving the motor running. “What did you do?” he asked. “Suddenly it’s perfect.”

  “I simply sprinkled some healing elixir on it,” Carleton said. “Normally it has little effect on anything inanimate, but your motor creature seems to be animate, and I had nothing better to try. I’m glad it helped. Your house should be all right now, because it is completely healed.” He frowned. “Though I still do not see how it can move.”

  “Watch,” Dad said, and got back in. In a moment the RV nudged forward. It drove in a circle, and stopped where it had been. Then the engine died. “No sense wasting gas until we actually go,” Dad said, emerging.

  “This is phenomenal,” the centaur said, obviously impressed. “A rolling house. I have not seen such a thing before.”

  “But there seem to be no paved roads here,” Mom said worriedly. “And no bridges. We have nowhere to drive.”

  “I believe there is a high-way on the mainland,” Carleton said. “Unfortunately, it is a troll pike. You have to pay the trolls at every turn.”

  “We’re used to that,” Dad said. “How do we get across to the mainland?”

  “We shall be glad to ferry you across. We can have a craft ready by noon.”

  “But the winds remain so high,” Mom said, worried again. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “We can handle it,” Carleton said in the same tone he had used when assuring Karen about riding.

  Mom looked dubious, but didn’t argue. So the centaur trotted off, leaving them to make ready for the trip.

  Dad shook his head. “I find today hard to believe,” he said. “But I’ll feel better when we get on that highway.”

  The others agreed. The centaurs seemed nice, but this whole business was pretty weird. Karen was looking forward to getting home and telling all her skeptical friends about where they’d been. Nobody would ever believe her; that was the fun of it.

  Promptly at noon, a big raft poled into view, with four muscular centaurs at its corners. At the same time, Carleton and Sheila Centaur galloped up from the village. Again the boys’ eyes threatened to pop at the sight of the filly’s front, and even Dad’s eyes might have strained a little. Mom’s mouth tightened ever so slightly: not the best sign. Karen was good at reading small signals; it kept her from getting into as much trouble as she deserved. So she didn’t giggle, quite.

  “I thought you would appreciate something to eat on the way,” Sheila said, presenting them with a big bag marked GOODIES. “More milk pods, honey buns, nuts and bolts—”

  “Bolts?” David asked.

  She brought out what did indeed look like a bolt and gave it to him. He sniffed it, then bit off the end. It seemed to be similar to a nut. “Chocolate flavored!” he said.

  “I could get to like this filly,” Sean murmured, though his eyes weren’t on the bolt. Sheila tossed back her lovely brown tress/mane and smiled at him, not at all self-conscious.

  The raft nudged in to the shore. “Now, if you will have your house creature get on, we shall take it across to the mainland,” Carleton said. “I have communicated with the Good Magician, who says he will send you a guide. She will arrive in late afternoon with her companion; Sheila will introduce you before she returns here.”

  “Sheila’s crossing with us?” Sean asked
, his eyeballs threatening to go into orbit.

  “We would not want it claimed that we of the Isle were inhospitable to those who found themselves here through no fault of their own,” Carleton said. “Normally we discourage unauthorized visits, but we do allow for special circumstances. We are doing what we can to see you safely on your way. The Good Magician is competent, and you should be able to progress with the help of his guide.”

  “Uh, thank you,” Dad said. “We appreciate your hospitality and assistance. Perhaps we shall meet again.”

  “This is doubtful.” Carleton nodded, then turned tail and trotted off. Dad went to the RV.

  “He is a bit saddened by the loss of his little sister,” Sheila confided. “If you should happen to encounter her, I’m sure he would appreciate news of her current state.”

  “Why was she exiled?” Karen asked.

  Sheila’s mouth tightened. “She was found to have a magic talent. She was a good person, but that is simply not allowed among centaurs of the Isle. We consider it obscene.”

  “I guess you don’t want to know what we consider obscene,” David said brightly.

  “If you are typical of your species, you consider your natural body and its natural functions, other than eating, to be obscene,” she replied evenly. “Therefore you cover your body with clothing, evidently ashamed of it, and pretend that you have no natural functions, especially not defecation or reproductive capacity.”

  Karen looked at David. “Well, I guess she flushed your toilet,” she said, drawing on an old saying she had researched from a book of dated vernacular.

  “I guess she did,” David agreed, bemused. “I think I like the centaur way better.”

  “Me too,” Karen agreed.

  Mom and Sean exchanged a Significant Glance. Karen made a mental note: Sean was getting to be too much like an adult.

  The RV started up and moved slowly toward the raft. It nudged onto the planking, fitting comfortably. Then David and Karen ran to put the blocks at the wheels so it couldn’t roll off even if the brakes didn’t hold.

  When they were all safely aboard, the centaurs shoved off. Then they unfurled a sail and tied it firmly in place. The winds remained quite stiff, so this gave the raft plenty of push. It moved obliquely against the wind, tacking. The muscular centaurs clearly knew what they were doing. Each had his station, whether at sail, tiller, pole, or guard, and was intent on his business.