Xanth 30 - Stork Naked

by Piers Anthony

  "Or Clio, the Muse of History, to fix the records," Monica said. "Before that stupid bird delivers your baby to someone else."

  Surprise's flustered awareness fought to return to control. She knew she had to do something immediately; it just wasn't clear what. So she grasped at the most reasonable straw. "Good Magician Humfrey. I'll try him. Thank you, Demon Ted."

  The boy turned bright pink, including his hair and clothing. The appreciation had caught him entirely off guard.

  "Leave us here and go," Monica said. "I'll tell the folk when they return."

  That alerted Surprise to practical aspects. "I can't leave you! I'm responsible."

  "No problem," Ted said. "Take us along."

  Had she not been under such pressure, Surprise would have known better. As it was she made a dreadful decision. "Of course."

  She took a moment to formulate a suitable spell, then formed an invisible permanent basket and had the children join her in it. She conjured the basket to the edge of the moat around the Good Magician's castle.

  There was the moat monster guarding the drawbridge, which was down. "Hi, Sesame," Monica called.

  It was Sesame Serpent, Souffle's girlfriend, emulating a moat monster. She was good at emulations.

  "I have to see the Good Magician," Surprise said. "It's urgent."

  Sesame shook her head.

  "You mean I have to go through Challenges?" Surprise asked, appalled. "I don't have time. I have to get my baby from the stork."

  But the serpent was adamant. There was no free passage here. She had her orders.

  "You're as bad as the stork," Ted said. "Always got to go by the book, no matter how stupid it is."

  "Isn't that a rancid kettle of fish," Surprise's voice said. "Must give you quite an appetite, snake-eyes."

  Oh, no! The peeve had come along too.

  Sesame frowned at the bird, then coiled like a giant rattlesnake and made ready to strike. It was an excellent emulation, and she clearly knew it was the bird who had spoken. Moat monsters were hard to fool. The peeve fluttered its wings as if ready to fly, but it was obvious that it could not get away fast enough to get beyond the range of the serpent's jaws. "Not that that's necessarily bad," it said hastily. "I've eaten some very nice rancid fish in my day."

  Sesame considered, then uncoiled. She had made her point, forcing the bird to back off.

  A woman crossed the drawbridge, leaving the castle. Sesame did not challenge her; obviously her business with the Good Magician was done. "Hello," she said brightly. "My name's Susan. I just learned my talent. Now I have to inform my family that I'll be away a year serving my Service for the Good Magician. It's worth it."

  "What's your talent?" Ted asked boldly.

  "I'm so glad you asked," Susan said. "I can't wait to try it out. I'm supposed to be able to turn spoken words into tangible shapes and colors, which I can then use to make sculptures or paintings. I always wanted to be an artist, but lacked the wherewithal." She concentrated, then spoke: "Red shoes." The red shoes appeared. "Blue trousers." They appeared, dropping on the shoes. "Yellow shirt." It was there on top of the trousers. "White hat." It landed on the pile. "Black gloves." They were there. Then she arranged the items on the ground to form the image of a man. "It's crude, I know, but it's my first effort."

  "You're right about it's being—" the peeve started.

  "A nice first effort," Surprise said loudly, overriding the bird's insult.

  "Thank you," Susan said, pleased. She gathered up the items and walked away.

  Unfortunately Surprise was still stuck with the need to run the Challenges, if she wanted to see Magician Humfrey. It was an awful nuisance, but she couldn't afford to waste time arguing. She would simply have to navigate them. There would be three, and her magic would not avail her.

  "Sesame, I am babysitting the demon children, Ted and Monica. I won't be able to keep a proper eye on them while handling the first Challenge. Please, would you keep an eye on them and the peeve while I'm busy? I know you're a good person, and this shouldn't conflict with your moatly duties."

  The serpent nodded. She would do it.

  "What do you know about babysitting?" Ted demanded. "You're just a big snake."

  Sesame oriented on him, assuming the aspect of a horrendously strict schoolmarm. Forbidding authority fairly radiated from her.

  The demon child quailed. "Not that there's anything wrong with snakes."

  There were things to like about Sesame. But now Surprise focused on the first Challenge. The obvious way across the moat was the drawbridge, which remained down across it. But there was now a small lighthouse at its outer landing, blocking the way. There might be a path around it, but when she tried to make it out, the lighthouse flashed so brightly that she was blinded for the moment. That was no good; she had to see where she was going, or she would fall into the moat instead of setting foot on the bridge, and surely wash out.

  She walked around the lighthouse to check the far side. It was no better; there was hardly room to skirt it to reach the drawbridge. Acute vision was important. But the lighthouse wasn't flashing now, so she took a step toward it.

  The second flash was worse than the first. She had to cover her eyes and wait for her vision to return. This was definitely the Challenge.

  Just in case, she tried her magic, invoking a spell of darkness to cloud around the lighthouse. Sure enough, it didn't work; her magic was null during this exercise. She had to get through by her body and wit alone.

  Could she manage it by feel? If she squinched her eyes tight shut and shuffled forward with her hands before her, she should be able to feel the path and the wall of the lighthouse, and nudge her way around it to the end of the bridge. Then she saw that in places the moat lapped right up against the house, and the stones looked irregular and wobbly. She was likely to misstep and fall, she couldn't afford that.

  She paused to ponder, sure there was some way. There was always a way, in a Challenge. She had missed it so far because she was just blundering through; she needed to use her mind. But how could her mind save her eyes from the flash? She wasn't used to using her mind; her magic talents had solved most of her problems so far.

  There must be something special about the lighthouse, some key to getting by it. A key—was there a key to its door, so she could get in and turn off the light? Where would it be?

  She looked, but saw no key. Too bad. Now if only there could be some pun key instead. Xanth was mostly made of puns; she had stepped on one more than once, getting disgusting smears of it stuck on the bottom of her shoe. Ugh!

  Pun. Her mind circled around that. This was a lighthouse. Could it also be a light house?

  With abrupt resolve she shut her eyes and advanced on the structure. She felt the light come on, but she didn't need to see for this. She advanced until her hand touched the curving wall. Then she squatted and reached as far around the tower as she could, her fingers catching in crannies. She heaved.

  The house came up. It was feather-light. She carried it away from the moat a suitable distance and set it down. Then she faced away from it and opened her eyes.

  The bridge was open. She had cleared the light house.

  She went to fetch the children, who were watching a story being acted by the serpent. Sesame emulated one character after another, most effectively. As Surprise approached, she emulated the grumpy Good Magician, and they burst out laughing. Who needed words, with ability like that?

  But by the time she got there, they had started another game. Children's lives moved so swiftly! Had she ever been like that, Surprise wondered? She paused more than a moment, to let them finish before taking them away. They were pretending to have special talents, with Sesame as the judge of the best one.

  "Summoning flying rugs," Ted said, sitting down on the ground as if riding a rug. "Zooom!"

  "Conjuring useful elixirs," Monica said, gesturing as if holding up a vial. "Only I can't control which." She pantomimed sipping. "Beauty cream, I think.
"

  "You turned into an ogress!" Ted said. "That was ugly cream."

  Sesame angled her head toward Ted. He had won the exchange, mostly because of his rebuttal of Monica's talent.

  "Now I'm making a whole gram," Ted said, shaping a form in the air with his hands.

  "That's hologram," Monica said with a superior tone.

  "Whatever. It shows what's happening to one person, or animal, or thing. Like maybe a nymph showing her panties."

  "Nymphs don't wear panties, dummy."

  "Oh, yeah. Well, then, the nymph herself, running around, hobbling. That's almost as good."

  "Talent of confusion," Monica said, making spell-casting motions. "So she's there but you can't think to look."

  "Oh, mice!" Ted swore.

  Sesame angled her head toward Monica. She had won that one.

  This seemed to be the best moment to break it off, before the children got tired of it and started something else. "Time to cross the bridge," Surprise said. "Thank, you Sesame."

  The serpent nodded, then sank under the water of the moat. Surprise liked her; Sesame had once traveled with Umlaut, helping him deliver letters, in the process bringing him to meet Surprise. That was not a favor to be forgotten. Surprise had liked Umlaut, so naturally married him when she came of age. And signaled the stork, and—

  "Darn!" she swore under her breath. The horror of her loss had sneaked up on her.

  "Oooo, what you said!" Ted said, scraping one forefinger against the other.

  "Mustn't swear in the presence of children," Monica informed her imperiously. But she couldn't hold her severe expression long, and dissolved into giggles.

  "She misspoke," the peeve said. "That word is not a full cuss. What she really meant was—"

  "On," Surprise said sharply, cutting off the bird while herding them to the drawbridge. Probably it had not really been about to violate the Conspiracy, but she couldn't take the risk.

  A man was crossing the bridge, going the other way. His nose was bright blue. "Hey, pinkeye," the peeve called. "Whatcha poke your nose into?"

  But the man was not annoyed. "I came to see the Good Magician to learn how to nullify my blue nose. But the Gorgon knew the answer and gave it to me free: I have only to drink the liquid of the beer barrel tree. So now I don't have to serve a year for my answer."

  "Well bully for you, beer belly!" the peeve said. But the man was so pleased with his free answer that he still wasn't annoyed. The peeve was, though; it hated to have insults fall flat.

  "Maybe you'll get your Answer free, too," Ted said.

  "I doubt it," Surprise said. "But it really doesn't matter. I'll pay whatever I need to, to get my baby back."

  "I guess that answer stunk your britches," Monica told Ted, putting him in his place as usual. Then she turned momentarily thoughtful. "You know, a nice talent would be the ability to grant wishes, but only for those who have wishes for others and don't know they'll be granted."

  "Princess Ida's already got that, dodo," Ted said witheringly.

  Monica refused to wither. "It's not the same. If I had that talent, and you wished for Surprise to get her baby back, I could grant it, if you didn't know my talent."

  "What dope would grant a wish for someone else?"

  "Enough, children," Surprise said. "I think we're somewhere, and I want to concentrate."

  The bridge debouched at a garden outside the main castle gate. It was filled with trees of different types. They grew so close together and branched so thickly that it was impossible to pass them to get to the castle gate. So this was the second Challenge.

  "Aw, who cares about stupid trees," Ted said snidely. "They have wood for brains."

  A branch lifted, sprouting big sharp thorns. "Stay out of this," Surprise said. "It's my Challenge. I may be disqualified if you participate."

  "Awww."

  "Why do you have to see the old gnome anyway?" Monica demanded. "This is dull."

  "If you brats don't shut up, she'll change her mind and take you home before seeing the grumpy gnome," the peeve warned. "She knows she should have done that before coming here."

  Both children went seriously silent. They did not want to miss the action. "Thank you peeve," Surprise said. That shut the bird up too; it wasn't used to being appreciated, and wasn't sure how to handle it.

  Now she addressed the crowded copse. It was clear she couldn't simply pick up any of the trees to clear her way, but there had to be a way to nullify their opposition. What could it be? They were all different types, no two the same. Was that a hint? But it hardly seemed to matter whether the species matched; they were all too solid, and as the thorny branch had shown, capable of opposing any effort to pass them.

  She pondered, cogitated, considered, contemplated, and finally thought about it. Again she was reminded of how little actual thinking she had done in the past. Her magic had taken care of most things, and her parents Grundy and Rapunzel had handled the rest. But now she had no choice.

  She couldn't think of a sensible idea, so she tried a nonsensical one.

  "Who are you?" she asked the trees. Of course she got no answer. But that gave her a better idea. Maybe she was supposed to identify them. She wasn't sure how that would help, but at least it was an effort.

  The nearest tree in the center had leaves with what looked like printing on them. She knew that type. "You're a Poet Tree," she said, laughing.

  The tree disappeared.

  Surprise stared. She hadn't been expecting anything, but that was something she still hadn't expected. She had named it, and it was gone. Was that a good or bad sign? Then she realized that it had to be the key to the Challenge: she had to name the trees to clear a path through this tight little forest. Good enough.

  She looked at the next tree straight ahead. It was a vast ugly thing whose whole aspect was arrogant and negative. She hated it on sight, and wanted to spit on it. In fact she wanted to spit on anything handy; she didn't much like anything that was the least bit unfamiliar or different. That was odd, because she was normally a tolerant person. Why should she instinctively hate a tree? Was there some magic aura making her react that way?

  That was it! "A Bigot Tree," she said. Sure enough, the tree vanished. Its wood was notorious, making people get stiff-necked and condemnatory without good reason. It was like reverse wood, only it instilled bad attitudes. Nobody liked the wood of the bigot tree. She hoped never to encounter anything like it again.

  The third tree was a considerable contrast. It had a nice ambiance, with many pretty flowers and a sweet smell. She liked it immediately. That was a clue to its nature: what was this nice one?

  "Sweet gum?" she asked. The tree did not move.

  She hadn't really thought it was that anyway. This tree was amiable throughout. What would perfectly describe that?

  Then she had it. "Pleasant Tree!" It vanished. She was almost sorry to see it go; she had really liked its company.

  The next tree was another contrast. It seemed to have been burned. Its trunk and leaves were gray and flaky, as if the fire had been so sudden it had consumed all the living substance without affecting the form. All that was left was ashes.

  A bulb flashed. "Ash Tree." And it departed.

  She was developing a channel through the thick forest. The trees were tight on either side, but she had eliminated four in the center. She was getting the hang of this.

  The next tree had normal bark and leaves, but its fruit consisted of an assortment of what seemed to be caged propellers, all of different design, and colorful oblongs. She had never seen anything like this, and had no idea what it was.

  "Propeller tree?" But she knew as she spoke that that could not be it; there was no pun. Things without puns had only dubious legitimacy in Xanth. Anyway, many of the fruits had no propellers; they were more box-like. The tree did not fade.

  She reached out very carefully and touched the rim of the nearest fruit. It whirred, dropped to the ground, and buzzed in circles around her before r
eturning to its branch. She touched another, one of the oblongs. This one spread out like the tail of a peacock to display a group of dancing hippopotami whose skirts flared to allow fleeting glimpses of their panties. It was a good thing she wasn't a man; she might have freaked. A third one whirled its blade and produced a series of vile-sounding bleeps. It was cursing!

  Surprise paused to ponder further. What were these things? What did they have in common? Only the breeze of their activities, she thought wryly.

  Then she got it. They were fans, in the tree. A rotary fan going around her, a fan-tasia showing an ungainly dance, and pro-fan-ity cursing. "In-Fan Tree," she exclaimed, and it vanished.

  But her identification seemed to have set up the next tree, because this one bore fruit that was actually tough little babies in helmets and armored diapers. She recognized it immediately as an Infant Tree, but hesitated to say so lest there be some trick. It was too obvious, and too similar to the last one in name if not nature. "Hello, babies," she said tentatively.

  "Hello yourself, wench," the nearest baby said. "Don't give us none of that shift."

  That startled her. "You talk."

  "Small talk," the baby agreed. "Now if you'll get the bleep out of our way, sweetheart, we'll prepare for the march." He turned his head and bawled "Companee—ten-SHUN!" All the other ten hanging babies snapped to attention.

  This was ridiculous as well as annoying. She was looking for a baby, but nothing like these military brats. "Infant Tree," she said, and it vanished. Maybe the similarity of names had been intended to make her suspect a ruse.

  The next tree bore full-grown men and women in scanty costumes that showed too much of their bodies. They hung in pairs of male and female, but were not paying attention to their immediate companions. They were constantly turning in place and eying others of the opposite gender. In fact they were flirting, exchanging secretive smiles and glimpses of flesh. It seemed they preferred any partners but their own. Surprise was disgusted. Where did these folk think they were, Mundania? Xanth wasn't like this.

  But her Challenge was not be be judgmental but to name the tree. It seemed to be the last one, and vanishing it would clear the way through. So what could it be? A Grownup Tree? A Cheater Tree? Those weren't suitable puns.