Question Quest

by Piers Anthony

  So I walked from village to village, exploring and looking around, learning all I could about everything I could, unobtrusively. Since villages were far apart, most of my time was spent on the paths between them. These paths were unkempt and often dangerous; this was between the times of enchanted paths, other than those set up for special purposes by tangle trees and the like. During the Golden Age paths abounded, and in the contemporary age they do too; that's the advantage of a strong kingship.

  I was fifteen years old, and looked twelve. Sometimes folk took me for a gnome. It had always been thus, and I was used to it. In fact it was an advantage at times, because they didn't consider gnomes to be people, and would speak as freely around them as around animals. I perked my ears and closed my mouth and learned their secrets. As a rule these were not worth knowing: who was making a tryst with whose wife, who was stealing from whom, and who had most recently been eaten by the local dragon. But I remembered their names and faces and secrets, because of my insatiable desire to know everything knowable.

  I had, as it turned out, an excellent memory, which I buttressed by notes I made in my one possession of any value: a notebook. Thus I would mark "Kelvin-slew golden dragon," or "Stile—Blue Adept" or "Zane—Thanatos" or "Darius—Cyng of Hlahtar," and the entire curious history of each person would be recalled when I read each note. Of course these were all inconsequential folk who never made any mark in Xanth and were forgotten by all others. But to me they were interesting. Who might guess what adventures they might have had or what success they might have achieved, if only they could have been delivered into more advantageous situations? For that matter, what might I myself have accomplished had I lived in a culture where curiosity was valued?

  So it was that I found myself on the path leading from the Gap Village, where I had lived so far, to the land of the dragons, only I did not know that at the time. I was merely following the path of least resistance. That was foolish, as I was soon to learn, because if the path of least resistance does not lead to the nearest tangle tree, it leads to some equivalent disaster.

  I heard a noise ahead. It sounded like a dragon going after prey: a sort of screaming and hissing, followed by a dull thunk. I ducked off the path, knowing better than to be on the scene when a dragon was feeding. But then I saw a shadow and a figure just above the trees. It was a flying dragon, dripping blood. It was evidently done, here.

  I resumed my trek. The best direction to travel was opposite that of a dragon, and that was the way I was going anyway. I rounded a turn, entering a glade.

  Here I encountered two objects on the ground. One was a unicorn, writhing from a bad injury, thrashing its horn about in pain. The other was a girl.

  I wasn't sure what to do about either. Unicorns, like all equines except the centaurs, were rare in Xanth, and I had seen one only twice before, and only fleetingly. Girls were not as scarce, but I had had little more contact with them outside my family, and indeed my experience with my older sister had rather turned me off them. It was hardly ideal, traveling alone, but it was better than being constantly bossed around.

  The girl spied me. "Help Horntense!" she cried, gesturing to the animal.

  There she was, bossing me already.

  Conditioned by a decade and a half of conditioning, I had no choice but to obey. I approached the unicorn. It was a mare who appeared to have broken a foreleg. There was also blood on her horn. I hesitated, because a wounded animal can be as dangerous as a whole one. But I saw that it was pain, not threat, which made her thrash for my attention; she was hoping I could do something for her.

  As it happened, I could. I had noticed some boneset herbs growing beside the path a short distance back. "I shall return," I said, and hurried away.

  I broke into a run, zooming along until I reached the herbs. I had a spare bag in my knapsack, which I drew forth. I found a good plant, took a stick, and dug carefully around it. I lifted it from the ground with its root and the earth around it, in much the manner I would transplant a tic plant. At least my experience as a farm boy was coming in handy. I set it in the bag carefully.

  I carried the bagged herb back down the path. Now I could not run, lest I shake up the plant. Other plants might not care, but a shaken boneset was not good.

  I reached the glade. The unicorn was now quiet. The girl had dragged herself over and was cradling the animal's head. She spied me. "Oh! I was afraid you were gone!"

  "I was just getting this plant," I explained, somewhat lamely, though in truth the two of them were the lame ones. The unicorn had a foreleg broken, and the girl seemed to have turned an otherwise serviceable ankle; it was beginning to swell.

  "Do you know anything about healing?" she asked.

  "Not much. But I thought maybe this herb might help." Actually I was quite sure it would help, but something about being near to the unicorn, or maybe the girl, made me less assertive.

  "A stupid plant?" she demanded. "Horntense could make two bites of that!"

  "Don't eat it!" I protested, alarmed. "This is bone-set."

  "What's that?"

  "A magic herb that sets bones. Let me plant it here, so it can operate." I felt more confidence, having discovered that I knew something she didn't.

  I used my stick to dig a hole by the animal's broken foreleg. Then I slid the herb into it, and packed the earth around firmly.

  "Now if I can touch the leg—" I said, reaching for the unicorn's injured extremity. She did not shy away, so I put my two hands on it and drew it slowly toward the plant. I set it right beside the herb, touching it.

  Immediately the boneset's leaves quivered. Its stems reached out and curled over the broken leg. Vines tightened around it. Suddenly they clenched, and there was a muffled crack. The unicorn emitted a squeal of agony and jerked her leg away.

  "What happened?" the girl cried.

  "It set the bone," I explained. "That's the herb's magic."

  She looked at the unicorn's leg, which was now unbroken. "It did!" she breathed, barely believing. "The leg is better!"

  "No, it's just reset. It will take a few days to heal, if I find the right herbs. The animal shouldn't put much stress on it, meanwhile."

  "She's not an animal!" the girl said crossly. "She's a unicorn."

  It was no use arguing with a girl, so I didn't try. "A unicorn,” I agreed.

  “That plant—do you think it would work on my ankle?"

  I shrugged. "It should, if it's broken at all."

  She turned herself around and put her leg out. I caught it and guided it to the boneset plant. The stems took hold, circling her foot and ankle, tightening. I saw that though her ankle was bruised and swelling, her bare leg was rather nicely shaped, under the dirt.

  "Is it going to hurt?" she asked belatedly. Her arms and face were dirty too; she had really sprawled in the dirt.

  "For a moment," I said.

  "Hold me, then."

  I had no experience holding girls, and was awkward.

  I sort of kneeled beside her and put my arms around her shoulders. She turned into me as she sat and put her head against my shoulder and her arms around my middle. There was something quite soft about her chest.

  The plant tightened. There was a pop. "Oh!" she gasped, her arms clenching around me.

  "It's done," I said. "There must have been a small break, but now it's set. But you shouldn't walk much on that foot until it heals."

  "It feels less worse already," she said, lifting her head from my shoulder and squeezing the dampness out of her eyes with the bends of her wrists. "But I shall have to walk; I need to fetch food."

  "I can fetch food," I said, for no good reason. "I know how to find good things to eat."

  "Oh, would you?" she asked eagerly. That made me feel good, for even less reason.

  I went out and cast about for things a girl would find edible. I could get by on stewed slugs, having verified that they were easy to catch and nutritious, but I suspected she would not. I was in luck: there was a pie tr
ee nearby and some milkweeds. I brought an armful of pies and pods back.

  The unicorn had climbed to its feet and was grazing. She had the sense to keep weight off her hurt leg, and seemed to be managing well enough on three hoofs. The girl was now sitting with her back to an ironwood tree, trying to brush herself off. She had ratty brown hair and eyes to match, but a slender waist and quite full hips. She wore shorts under her skirt; even so her legs were impressive. She was probably a couple of years older than I, and looked five years older.

  Not that it mattered. I was only just recently noticing such features in girls, and wasn't sure that the new perspective quite compensated for their bossiness. Anyway, girls only laughed at me, if they noticed me at all. So I might as well ignore them back.

  I brought my armful and set it down before her.

  "Oooo, wonderful!" she exclaimed, delighted. "This is just perfect!"

  Foolishly numbed by this unexpected praise, I said nothing.

  "Sit down," she urged. "We must eat this before it spoils."

  Why was I so glad to comply?

  She started in. The girl had the ability of her kind to eat and talk simultaneously. "We've never been introduced," she said somehow while chewing a chunk of cherry pie. "My name is MareAnn. My talent is summoning equines and making them mind. What's your name and talent?''

  "I'm Humfrey. I—I don't seem to have a talent."

  "You mean you haven't discovered it yet?"

  “That must be what I mean." No one had to have a magic talent, but the great majority of folk did, and I felt somewhat out of sorts.

  "Well, it will surely turn up. I'm fifteen. How old are you?"

  I gaped. "You're that young?"

  "Of course I am! What about you?"

  "I'm—I'm fifteen too."

  She glanced hard at me. "You're that old?"

  "Of course I am," I echoed weakly in the face of her disbelief.

  "Oh, you're a gnome," she said.

  "No, I'm human. Just gnomelike."

  "Oh. I'm sorry." But she didn't seem sorry, she seemed doubtful. She didn't want to question my word, so she was stuck in an awkward mode. I understood exactly how it was.

  After a bit, she looked around. "Is there any water near here? I mean a lake or river, so we can clean up? You have dirt on you, and I must be a total sight."

  "I passed a river a way back. But you wouldn't want to clean up with me there."

  "Of course I would!" she said in her emphatic female way. "Or have I delayed your schedule too much already?''

  "Schedule?"

  "You are going somewhere, aren't you? And you'd be just about there now, if it wasn't for me and Horn-tense?”

  "Oh. No. I was just going away from the Gap Village, nowhere in particular.”

  "The what village?"

  "The Gap. You know, the chasm."

  "No, I don't know! What chasm?"

  Then I remembered: there was a Forget Spell on the Gap Chasm. I lived right beside it, so was immune, or so I then believed, but she was from elsewhere, so hadn't heard of it or had forgotten it if she had. That was the nature of the ancient spell. It was pointless to tell her much about it, because she would only forget it again. "Just a big crevice. It doesn't matter. My village doesn't matter either. It's just sort of there. I want to go somewhere more interesting."

  "Well, where I came from is just as dull! Our village in on the bank of the Sane Jaunts River, and the only interesting things there are the dragons, and they're dangerous. Don't I know! That flying dragon almost got us. I thought we were beyond their territory, and relaxed, but evidently not."

  "Nowhere in Xanth is beyond their territory," I said. "I thought maybe there would be fewer of them the way I was going."

  "Are you kidding? It's Dragons Galore country!"

  I was dismayed. "I guess I'm going the wrong way, then."

  "Well, then, turn about and go with me. I'm not going anywhere either, just away from home."

  "You want to travel with me?" I asked incredulously.

  "Well, you did help me, and you seem harmless. I have found that traveling alone isn't much fun, and it's sometimes dangerous. If Horntense hadn't managed to spear that dragon with her horn before it got us, we could both be dead now. And you seem to know so much. I mean, you got the boneset plant and the pies and all. You're a real blessing to a girl in distress!"

  I couldn't help it: I was getting to like MareAnn. I couldn't believe she was only my age, but why should she lie? It was true she was bossy, but less so than I was used to, and it really wasn't bothering me much now. "Well, if you want to," I agreed, trying to make it sound somewhat more reluctant than it was. In those inexperienced days I cared what others thought of me.

  "I will summon you a unicorn," she said brightly. She put her fingers into her mouth and made a piercing whistle.

  "But—"

  In a long moment, there was the sound of galloping hoofs. Then a unicorn stallion appeared.

  "Help me stand," MareAnn said.

  I put my hands on her shoulders awkwardly and tried to lift her, but it didn't work. Then she reached up with her arms and I took her hands and pulled, and she came up smoothly. She winced as her bad ankle took weight, and leaned on me. She was taller than I, and fuller in the chest and hips, but not actually heavier because her waist was smaller.

  The unicorn slowed to a walk as he burst into the glade. He approached our party cautiously. I watched him with similar caution; if a unicorn horn could spear a dragon, it could do the same to me. "Uland, this is Humfrey," MareAnn said. "Humfrey, this is Uland Unicorn. He will be your steed for now."

  "But I don't know how to ride a unicorn—or anything else!" I protested.

  "Oh, you don't need to know how. Unicorns are magic. Uland will teach you."

  I remained dubious. "The—the river isn't far. Why don't we just walk?" But as I spoke I realized that that wouldn't do for her. “Or maybe you should ride Uland, and Horntense and I will walk."

  "Yes, I suppose that is better," MareAnn agreed. "Help me up, then; he's too tall for me to mount readily."

  Again I was somewhat at a loss. How was I supposed to put her up on the steed? Heave up on her hips?

  "Like this, silly," she said. She bent her left leg at the knee. "Lift on this."

  Feeling hopeless, I took hold of her leg, avoiding the injured ankle. I lifted—and she heaved and suddenly swung up on the unicorn's back. She had somehow braced against me and done it, and I hadn't quite seen it happen.

  She looked down at me and laughed. "You don't have much experience, for sure!"

  "Well, I never claimed to," I said, nettled.

  She was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Humfrey. You just looked so startled it was comical. Please, I don't want to offend you. You are helping me a lot. I like you."

  This time I felt myself blushing. She had apologized to me, complimented me, and said she liked me. That was a bigger dose of positive expression than I had ever had from a girl before.

  She must have noticed, but she didn't comment. That was a relief. My sister would have baited me unmercifully, trying to make me blush worse, and probably succeeding.

  I set off down the path toward the river I had passed. Horntense limped along behind me.

  "I wish I knew where there was a healing spring," I said. "You and Horntense could certainly use it."

  "A what?" MareAnn asked.

  "A healing spring. Our village elder has a vial of healing elixir which he traded for last year, and when someone is injured, we use a drop of that. But those who know where such springs are keep it secret."

  "Why?"

  "So they can make gouging trade deals with others."

  "That's disgusting!"

  I turned to face her. "That's the way it is. But if I knew where one is, I could get some elixir and make you and Horntense better."

  "Say, I'll bet the unicorns know!" MareAnn exclaimed. "They can't tell us, of course, but maybe Uland would take you there."
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  "But—" I said, and at the same time the unicorn stallion snorted.

  "Now stop that, both of you!" MareAnn said severely. She had the typically femalish talent for spot severity. "You don't want to ride, Humfrey, and Uland doesn't want to show you where the spring is. But we can work this out.”

  "He knows where it is?"

  "Yes. Didn't you see Uland twitch his ear yes when I mentioned it? But unicorns don't share secrets with our kind, for which I can't blame them."

  I hadn't seen. I would have to learn the equine signals! "Maybe we could give Uland a bottle, and—" But I saw that it wouldn't work. The unicorn had no way to hold the bottle.

  "Look, Uland," MareAnn said. "It would really be a big help to Horntense and me if we could get some of that healing elixir. We're both in pain, even if we don't make a big thing of it. Suppose Humfrey swears never to reveal to anyone else where the spring is; would you take him then?”

  Uland flicked his tail.

  "He wants to know whether you are to be trusted," she translated.

  "Well, I don't know," I said. "I mean, yes, I keep my word, but I don't know how he would know that."

  "He can tell. But it's dangerous."

  "Dangerous?"

  "When a unicorn tests someone, it's pass or fail. You either pass, or you're dead."

  I was dismayed. "I don't want to die! Suppose he makes a mistake?"

  "Unicorns don't make that kind of mistake. So if you agree to be tested—"

  I gulped. "Well, all right. But I hope he knows what he's doing!"

  MareAnn slid down off the unicorn's back. She hopped to Horntense and braced against her. "Okay, Uland."

  The stallion advanced on me. I stood my ground, not at all bravely. He lowered his horn so that it bore directly on my chest. With one shake of his head he could stab me through the heart!

  "Now make your statement," MareAnn said.

  "My what?"

  "Your agreement not to reveal the location of the spring to any other person."

  Oh. "I will not tell or show any other person where the healing spring you take me to is," I said, somewhat awkwardly.