Che and Surprise chose not to be together, so she supervised the children while he slept in the garden. Pyra wrestled with her better judgment and lost. "Do you mind company?" she asked him.
"Yours is welcome," he said generously.
He lay down, his lovely wings folded. She lay by his front legs, her head using a soft wing as a pillow. Divine!
She slept, and dreamed she was taking his handsome head in her hands and kissing him as he slept. She knew it was only a dream, but wondered whether he could have any similar dream. No, he would dream of kissing Surprise or Cynthia. Sigh; even in her dreams she could not really have him.
8
Horrors
They got organized early, as Surprise was eager to finally find her baby. She knew this was the right reality; there were no others that qualified. She would have her baby at last.
Or would she? She had already had some significant surprises, no pun on her name, and feared that more were coming. Her baby had been lost for two days now, and might be that much harder to recover. After all, how would she react if she got her baby delivered, then had someone show up on her doorstep demanding that she give it back? That was a quite relevant question, because it would be herself on the other side, reacting exactly as she would. This was bound to be difficult in both the practical and emotional sense.
She retained her winged horse form, though she suspected she would abandon it the moment she got her baby. The children elected to ride with Che Centaur again, and she allowed them to come in part because she wanted some sort of support, thin and uncertain as it might be. So Pyra rode her, and the peeve joined her too.
"Peeve," she said carefully. "I am in a strained femalish mood today, and if you start tormenting me with insults I won't be responsible for my reaction."
"Let me tell you something," the bird said in her own voice. "Your folks gave me a good home when no one else would. If I lose that, I'll be out on my tail and stuck homeless for a long time. I am not about to risk that, for solid economic reason. I am peevish, not stupid."
Pyra chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you of getting softhearted, peeve."
"You can keep your burned-out opinions to yourself, hotbox," the bird snapped.
Surprise would have smiled, had her horse-mouth enabled it. The peeve had not changed its nature. Its insults were as aptly targeted as ever. That was ironically reassuring.
"If Surprise Seven is as much like you as she surely is," Pyra said, "it will not be easy to take the baby."
"That's one reason I'm tense," Surprise agreed. "I don't know how I'll deal with it."
"You'd be better off if you could cuss," the peeve said.
"That's not her nature," Pyra said. "She's far too nice."
"Fortunately you're not so nice, burn-bottom," the peeve said in her own voice. "Maybe you could steal the baby and give it to her, sparing her the heartache."
"Well—"
"No!" Surprise cried. "None of that! I will have my baby honestly, or not at all."
"Of course," Pyra agreed, sounding regretful.
"Got it, horse-face," the peeve said, subdued.
All too soon they arrived at the Golem residence, which looked much the same. They landed a suitable distance from it, as before.
Pyra jumped off. "I'll watch the children. No comic strip this time."
The peeve stayed. "Let me come, and I'll keep my beak appropriately shut."
"Of course." Surprise suspected that Pyra was right: the irritable bird had a little bit of heart, though it would never admit it. The bird hopped to her shoulder.
They trooped to the house: Surprise, Che, and Stymy. Surprise took several steps, then resigned herself and reverted to her natural form. She couldn't hold her baby in equine form.
This time the door did not open before they arrived. She had to knock. Evidently visitors weren't expected. That was mildly curious.
Now the door opened. Surprise Seven stood there. Behind her came the sound of a baby crying. Why wasn't she holding it? "Yes?" The voice was sharp.
"I am Surprise Golem, from another reality. I believe you have my baby."
Seven's lip curled. That was an expression Surprise had never tried to manage. "Prove it."
"I have brought along the stork who delivered it. He knows the smell. Let him sniff it."
"Like bleep I will. Go away." The door slammed in her face.
Che exchanged a significant glance with her. "Something here is odd. She does not mirror your nature."
"Maybe she doesn't want to lose her—the baby."
"There's something else," the peeve said. "I can't quite place it, but it's not good."
There was definitely something, Surprise thought. The other Surprises had all been nice girls, very feeling and understanding. This one wasn't. How could that be?
"Let me try," Che said. He stepped forward and knocked on the door.
After a pause that was slightly too long, it opened. Umlaut stood there. The sound of the baby crying in the background returned. "Get out of here, centaur. We don't need your kind in these parts." He tried to close the door, but Che's hoof was in the way.
"We need to check the baby," Che said firmly.
"You need to get your tail the bleep back where it came from." Umlaut kicked at the hoof, trying to dislodge it.
"Let me try," the peeve murmured in Surprise's ear. When she did not object, the bird turned its head aside.
"Dear, come here," Surprise's voice called from a slightly muffled distance.
"What the bleep do you want?" Umlaut snapped, turning and taking a step away from the door.
"What do you mean, what do I want? When I call, you snap to attention, laggard, if you know what's good for you."
"Oh, yeah? We'll see about that." Umlaut forged back toward the voice.
"Get on in there," the peeve said. "The door's open."
Che paused only half a moment. "That was you!" he said. "Imitating Seven's voice, you naughty bird."
"Told you I'd try," the peeve said with Che's voice.
Surprise's mouth fell open. That was why it had sounded muffled: to conceal the true origin of the voice. What a dirty trick. She couldn't praise it, of course; she wasn't like that. But she turned and kissed the bird's beak.
"Ugh!" the peeve said, turning a deeper green. That counted for a blush.
Meanwhile Che was urging her forward, into the house, followed by Stymy. They came to the main room, where Surprise Seven and Umlaut Seven were having a heated argument about who had called whom, and who was deaf. It was evident that they didn't like each other much.
The baby was in a dirty crib, a naked little girl, crying desperately. Her baby! Surprise's bosom swelled with grief and love. In barely an instant she was there, picking up the baby, cuddling her. The crying stopped.
The stork put his beak close to the baby, sniffing. He nodded affirmatively. This was the one.
"Hey!" Umlaut cried. "Unhand that brat!"
"Brat!" Surprise repeated, shocked. "My baby!"
Surprise Seven turned to face her. "The bleep it is. It's mine."
"You don't even want her!" Surprise said, appalled. "You let her cry."
"Oh, I want her," Seven said. "I just don't love her."
Surprise tried to speak, but was too amazed and horrified to formulate any words.
Che stepped into the breach. "This is her baby. We have verified it. We intend to take her home to our reality."
"She was delivered here," Umlaut said. "That gives us possession. She's ours."
"She was misdelivered here," Che said evenly. "We have come to correct the mistake."
"You centaurs are supposed to be logical and ethical," Umlaut said. "You know you can't just steal a baby like that."
Surprise saw Che nod, reluctantly. "We must negotiate a fair compromise."
"No compromise," Surprise Seven said. "That brat is mine. I got delivery."
Surprise hadn't known what to expect, but this was far
outside any parameters she might have considered. Mean-talking, indifferent parents? She and Umlaut had never been like that. What was the matter with this couple?
The baby girl opened her eyes. She saw the peeve on Surprise's shoulder. She smiled. "Coo!"
The peeve almost fell off. "She likes me!" it said.
Surprise had to smile, faintly. "She's only three days old. She doesn't know any better."
"Compromise is necessary," Che said. "You know this baby is stolen property."
"So?" Surprise Seven demanded.
But Umlaut, gazing at Surprise, abruptly became reasonable. "Let me talk to her."
The two Sevens exchanged some sort of glance. It fairly dripped with mutual detestation and malign understanding. "Do it, charmer," Surprise Seven said. "Take her in the bedroom."
"Put down the br—the baby and come with me," Umlaut said.
Surprise did not want to do either, but realized that she had to try valiantly to be reasonable. There were conflicting rights, however awful the situation.
"I'll watch her," the peeve murmured, jumping to the top bar of the crib.
That would have to do. Surprise set the baby into the crib. She started to cry, but the peeve spread its wings, attracting her attention, and she lay back, watching it. She did like the bird, or at least was intrigued by it. That was remarkable for so young a child, but clearly possible. The peeve was also clearly delighted to have that adoration. It was probably the first time anyone had actually liked it at first glance. The peeve was normally a challengingly acquired taste.
Surprise followed Umlaut into the bedroom. It was the same one she and Umlaut One used, while they prepared to get their own house. That made her uncomfortable.
Umlaut shut the door. "You're a hot-looking babe."
He looked exactly like her husband, but his words were worlds—realities—away from anything Umlaut One would ever say. He was definitely not the man she loved.
"And I'm hot for you," Umlaut continued. "So I'll make you a deal."
She did not trust this at all. "All I want is my baby."
"I will put in a word for you with Surprise—my Surprise. I'm sure she'll agree to give you the baby. After you let me have my way with you."
"You're not my husband!"
"That's what makes it so delicious. There is no joy like stolen joy."
She was disgruntled and confused. Something was nagging her, but she couldn't quite place it. "If that's what you want, you can have it with your own wife, can't you? In fact you must have signaled the stork with her, to become eligible for this delivery."
"I did, but it was a chore. She's not nice like you."
"She is me, in this reality! How can she not be like me?"
He smiled. "You saw her. Is she like you?"
He had her there. "No. But I don't understand why."
"It hardly matters. Realities differ, that's all."
Then her nagging thought exploded into the foreground of her attention. "How do you know so much about realities? You weren't even surprised when I announced that I was from a different one."
"Oh, we were expecting you," he said easily. "We knew you'd be after the baby."
"My baby!"
"That you want to recover." He advanced on her. "Will you take off your clothes, or do you prefer me to do it for you?"
She shied away. "Don't touch me! I came here only to talk."
He shook his head. "Odd. I was under the impression you wanted to recover your baby."
"I do!"
"You don't even need to pretend to like it. Just let me do it, you luscious creature."
The weird thing was that he looked so much like the Umlaut she loved, and with whom she had made love many times. It would be easy to, as he put it, just let him do it. If that was what it took to get her baby back.
Frozen in indecision, she stood still as he slowly came at her. He unbuttoned her blouse, and she didn't move. He tugged it off, and she did not resist. Did it count if she made no motion of participation? She simply didn't know.
He wrapped his arms about her and kissed her. His lips felt very much like her husband's. But not exactly.
Suddenly she was struggling free of his embrace. "You have no soul!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I had a soul emulation," he said. "But that wore out." He tried to recapture her body.
"But you had half of mine—hers. When the Demons didn't want mine."
He paused to look at her face. "They gave your soul back, in your reality?"
"Oh, my! They didn't in yours! You and she—no souls?"
"No souls," he agreed. "Why would they give yours back, having made the deal?"
"Because the half-souls gave them consciences. That was inconvenient. They didn't like it. So they put them into the—the two of us. And left them there, though they didn't have to. So we have a normal existence, together."
"Interesting," he said, uninterested. "It will be intriguing to make it with a souled version of you. Where were we?"
But Surprise was having second and possibly even third thoughts about sitting still for his illicit attentions. He had no soul, and neither did Surprise Seven. That meant no consciences, and no capacity to love. That explained why they obviously didn't like each other much, and cared nothing for the baby. It didn't explain why they even wanted the baby. There was more she needed to know before she could make a decision on anything, especially about yielding to his purely physical urge.
In fact, how could she trust him to do what he promised, after? Soulless folk wouldn't hesitate to lie, to get what they wanted. He might tell Surprise Seven to keep the baby. So her reluctant effort might be wasted anyway. Still, there might be ways to manage the soulless folk, as they cared about only the immediate advantages of a situation, rather than the longer term consequences.
"We were considering exactly how to be sure your Surprise will give me the baby. I think it would be more convenient if she turned her over first."
"How can she do that when you're with me?"
"Che could take her, and I could rejoin him. After."
He studied her cannily, which wasn't an expression she had seen in her real husband. "You souled folk keep your given words, don't you."
"We do. But I haven't given mine. We're still negotiating." She wished there were some other way to get her baby, but she feared there wasn't.
"Surprise gives the centaur Prize, and you give me your nice little body." He eyed the exposed upper portion of that body, making her feel halfway unclean.
"Prize?"
"The brat's name. Didn't you know?"
"I never got possession of the—of my baby! I never learned her name."
"It was going to be Sir Prize for a boy, because he'd be a leader. Just Prize for a girl, because she's a possession, of course."
Surprise choked back a clog of gall at the reasoning. She had to control her girlish emotions if she was to prevail. "Clever," she agreed.
He reached for her again. "Now that that's decided, we can have some fun."
She drew away again. "It's not decided. I want to see Prize safely out of this house, after I hear Surprise agree to let her go." Actually she was not at all sure she could do what he wanted even then, because it was wrong. It was bad enough having a passion for Che Centaur, who was a fully decent souled creature, but this soulless version of her husband was too much. She was really looking for some other way to rescue Prize. She liked the name, despite its nasty interpretation he had given. To her, the baby girl was a perfect prize, and possession had nothing to do with it.
"Maybe some other deal," he suggested.
"Maybe." That was what she wanted, but she didn't trust this. He surely had something devious in mind.
"Something we could give you, to make you go away."
"Without my baby? No way."
"Why are you so het up about a squalling baby, anyway? All she'll do is take up all your time."
Surprise refused to be baited. "That's my problem. I w
ill be happy to take her off your hands. Why do you want her so much, anyway?"
He evaded the issue. "We have a collection of items of interest. Maybe you would like one of them instead of the brat."
"I doubt it." She was understating the case. What was he up to?
He reached down to haul a chest from under the bed. He opened it with a whispered spell. It was filled with slugs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, as well as sugar and spice and all things nice. Evidently the Umlaut and Surprise of this reality shared it for oddments of interest. What could she possibly want from such a collection, in lieu of her baby?
Then she realized that to a soulless person, everything was negotiable. If he wanted a baby, but was offered something he wanted more, he would trade the baby for it. He expected her to react similarly. Those without souls could never truly appreciate their nature. That was why the Demons had been so dismayed in the instant they got halves of her soul that they had immediately rejected them.
He lifted out a shoe. Not a pair of shoes, just a single one, with a rather nutty surface. In fact it looked as if it had been fashioned from a large nut. "How about this Cash Shoe?" he asked. "Wear it, and it leaves cash behind."
She had to laugh at the incongruity of it. "That's a pun: cashew. Who needs cash in Xanth?"
"But with enough cash you'll be rich."
"The riches of Xanth are not in money. You have it confused with Mundania."
He didn't argue. He set the shoe aside and brought out another item. "Here is a Tooth Brush."
"That's a brush made out of teeth!" she exclaimed. "Another pun. What good would that do anyone?"
"Well, it bites bad children. It's a good way to keep them under control."
For a fleeting half instant she imagined using that to subdue the rambunctious half-demon children. Then her niceness reasserted itself, banishing the wisp of nastiness as if it had never been. "I wouldn't use anything like that! Children need to be raised with understanding and love."
He shook his head. "Weird." He delved into the chest again. "How about this?" He held up a small white ball.
Xanth 30 - Stork Naked Page 15
