The curse was finally done; it had no more malign energy. The king collapsed in a royal swoon, having used all his strength to counter it. But at least he had saved his daughter, somehow. As a further precaution, he sent her to join her sisters at Castle Roogna, where no one would find them, since the castle remained lost.
Clio was the youngest sister, by three years. The others were pretty girls; Clio's prettiness halted at her neckline. She could run and jump and play, having no weakness or physical deformity; she just didn't look very good, with her string-bean torso and knobby limbs. Others averted their eyes from her, and it was clear that when she grew into a woman, men would avoid her. It was not true that men were interested in only one thing; they were interested in at least two curves above the waist, and two below it. She had none. But there was a remedy; she just had to find it. Meanwhile Rose assigned a nursemaid for her who made her look good in comparison: Agora Ogre, whose body was so ugly it added another crack to the mirror, and whose face, like that of all ogresses, looked like an overcooked bowl of mush that someone had sat on. Agora was unusual for an ogre in one respect: she was afraid to go out into the open. That was fine, because it meant she stayed inside all day, watching out for her little charge.
So at a young age Princess Clio went into the orchard, where the king had adapted many trees to bear wonderful new fruits, and searched. The king assigned Agora's brother to watch over her, because at least once a day some bad threat came. He was Medi Ogre, who was dull even for an ogre but alert and loyal. When harpies dive-bombed her in the orchard, the ogre raised his hamfists and bashed them out of the air. When poisonous snakes came at her, Medi tromped them. When she reached for live cherries or a pineapple, the ogre flicked them with his hamfingers and detonated them before they could hurt her. So she was all right, though what she would do when Medi's term of royal Service was done she didn't know.
Clio was attracted to an unusual tree. It was one of ancient King Roogna's failures. He had tried to make its trunk grow the shape of the body of a nymph, but the bark had been too tight and squeezed the tree until it expired. The top had fallen off, and there was just the remnant of the trunk remaining, suitable for birds to perch on. "I want it," she told Medi. So the ogre obligingly ripped the bark up and off the trunk and gave it to her.
Clio got inside it, and something remarkable happened. It closed in on her body and fit snugly, with branches covering her arms and legs too. The bark was not rough; it was soft and smooth and flexible, like the body of the nymph it was supposed to be, and made her look, well, shapely. This was all the more remarkable for a four-year-old. She walked back into the castle wearing it, and her sisters were astonished. "Where did you get the nice body?" Thalia asked.
"From the orchard," she replied.
Soon all her sisters were admiring it. Then the eldest, Calliope, who was fourteen, caught on. "You found your curves!"
Indeed it was so. The failed nymph bark had become a successful girl bark. One aspect of the curse had been mitigated.
But there remained the other two aspects, and these worried the others. Every day there was some direct threat to her welfare, and sooner or later one was bound to get to her and kill her, completing the third aspect. Probably sooner, making her die young.
But there was hope. Every person in Xanth, except for the brutish Mundanes of the LastWave, had a magic talent, of greater or lesser power. Clio's talent had not yet been discovered. Maybe it would save her. She was supposed to have the means to handle danger, after all.
One day when she was six Agora Ogre was busy with laundry and Medi Ogre was asleep, so Clio sneaked out on her own. Naturally she got into trouble. A flying dragon spied her and swooped down to snap her up. She hadn't even seen the danger until she was being carried out of the orchard, the cruel teeth drawing blood from her body. She knew she was doomed, and that it was her own fault. She wanted more than anything for this never to have happened.
Suddenly the dragon reversed course. It flew backward and down into the garden, and released her, and the pain of the bite eased. The dragon didn't stop there; it continued flying backward, back into the air, tail first. Clio herself was walking backward. She relaxed, safe after all.
Then she resumed walking forward, and the dragon came at her again. But this time she knew the danger. She dodged behind a tree just as the dragon snapped, and it missed and went on, a surprised look on its snout.
Clio ran inside to tell her sisters what had happened. They didn't believe her, of course, and she couldn't make them understand. She tried to demonstrate, by making them reverse course, but when they resumed forward motion, they didn't know that there had ever been any reversal. It was her secret, not because she wanted to keep it but because its very nature was hidden. Soon she realized that this was both her magic talent and the mitigation of the curse: with the windback, as she called it, she could reverse any bad thing that happened to her, and act to prevent it happening again. It wasn't a perfect answer to the dangers she faced, but coupled with sensible alertness, it very nearly nulled the curse.
There remained the third aspect: dying young. So she would be young a long time—how was that possible? She saw her sisters growing up and becoming young women, some of them beautiful, some pretty, some so-so, and realized that in time they would inevitably become mature women, and then old: twenty-eight or -nine. Surely the same fate awaited her—except that the curse would kill her before she ever got old. How was the amelioration ever to work?
Her sisters did mature, and became marriageable, one by one, at yearly intervals. But they did not marry, because they were all princesses, and would not marry beneath their station—and there were no princes. So they were stuck, and not particularly pleased. They remained anonymous at Castle Roogna.
When Clio was thirteen something happened elsewhere that made a difference: a rather small ugly baby boy was delivered to a family of tic farmers. The father was teaching the elder boy how to run the farm, and the mother was teaching the girls how to be suitably bossy, so there was no one to supervise the youngest child, whose name was Humfrey. So when he was two, Clio got the job of babysitting him. She didn't have to do it, being a princess, but it got her out of the castle, and she was pretty sure she could handle it because of her secret talent. If he got into mischief or had an accident, she could unwind it and make it right before it went wrong. She was fifteen, and did want to get out on her own. Naturally she did not tell the boy's family where she lived, because the privacy of the secret castle was important.
It worked out well. She seemed to have a magic touch, for there was never any trouble the family knew about, since they did not know how many scrapes she unwound and fixed. Little Humfrey turned out to be very smart, with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Soon he figured out her talent, and figured out something else: when she used it, she probably aged faster. That was to say, that others did not remember, because they never really lived through the woundback episodes. But she did remember, because she lived through them coming and going. So if she got into five minutes worth of trouble, and wound it back five minutes, that was ten minutes of her life. It wouldn't have mattered much, except that she knew she was cursed to die young. That meant that using her talent would bring her life toward its end more rapidly. She didn't like that.
But Humfrey learned unusual things, even as a very young child, and one of them was that there had once been, and might still be, folk on Mount Parnassus called the Muses who were ageless. Maybe she should go and seek their secret. If she didn't age, she would remain young for a long time, abating the third aspect of her curse.
Thrilled with that notion, she kissed the four-year-old boy, much to his disgust, and at the age of seventeen set out to find Parnassus. She knew its general location, and since she didn't want to tell her sisters, who would interfere, she would have to go there alone, on foot. Well, she would do so.
She set out, wearing her nymph-shape bark, which had grown with her and now provided her w
ith enviable curves above and below the waist. She removed it only rarely, as she preferred the curves to her natural state. She pretended to be offended when men stared at her body, but she wasn't; it was nice being attractive.
Little Humfrey had calculated that Mount Parnassus lay to the south, so that's the way she went. There were no safe enchanted paths, though there were some unsafe ones; the safe ones would come later. So she carried a long wood staff that she really didn't know how to use, and poked at anything she wasn't sure about. What she really needed was a traveling companion, preferably a strong male. But that wasn't completely safe for other reasons. Unless she could find a safely married man to travel with, though she understood they weren't always ideal either. Her sisters had done babysitting for some families, and had some disquieting reports. Still, her ability to wind back problem events reassured her, though she would avoid using it if she possibly could. What use to save her life, if it only hastened the end of her life?
She passed a big pantree. This one had pans growing above, and panties inside, and underpants on the ground beneath it. She got the pun: pants under it. Fortunately she didn't need any underwear; she had a spare pair of panties.
Beyond it was another tree that blocked her best path. Its branches spread out to either side, effectively balking her. "How do I get past you?" she asked rhetorically.
"I'm a Poe tree," it replied, surprising her. "You recite poetry."
Oh. She pondered, and did her best to come up with something suitable.
"I think that I shall never see, a monster lovely as a tree," she said. "And unless you let me by, a monster may catch me on the fly."
"That's doggerel," the tree protested. "I was thinking of high classical, or at least something about a raven."
"You didn't specify what kind of poetry."
"I suppose I didn't," the tree agreed grudgingly. It moved its branches aside, letting her by. "But you may deserve to be caught by a monster."
"I have already met monsters, thank you."
"Nevermore," quoth the Poe tree.
She went on beyond it, deciding not to inquire how it was a tree could talk the human language. The land was more open here, and she could walk without difficulty. She saw a box with a pair of boxing gloves on top. Curious, she approached it—and the gloves rose up on thick stems and menaced her. "What in Xanth are you?" she asked, taken aback.
"I'm a boxer, of course. I punch out enemies."
"I'm not an enemy, I hope."
The box considered. "I suppose not. You sound like a girl."
"I am a girl."
"That explains it." The gloves settled back on the box.
Clio went on. She was evidently in one of the oddities regions of Xanth, where things were neither friendly nor hostile, just odd. Well, that was better than being pursued by monsters.
She saw a large cake resting on a rock sculpted in the form of a voluptuous woman. By it was a sign saying EAT ME, and in smaller print, CHEESE CAKE. Clio distrusted this, but she really liked cheesecake, and it reminded her how hungry she was getting, so she decided to try it. She broke off a small piece and tasted it. It was delicious.
Then she sneezed, and sneezed again and again, helplessly. The remaining cake flew out of her mouth; she couldn't help herself. It was awful.
Finally the fit passed. Her eyes were watering. The sneezing fit had come without warning, and just at the wrong time. She had lost her cake.
Then as her eyes cleared she saw the small print more accurately. It said SNEEZE CAKE. She should have known.
Not far beyond was another sculptured rock bearing another cake. This rock was in the form of a marvelously muscular man, and its sign said EAT ME—BEEK CAKE. She passed it by without pausing; she was no longer hungry.
She spent the night on the back of a tree the shape of a frog: a tree frog. It was comfortable, and the sides were steep enough so that nasty creatures on the ground would have trouble getting at her as she slept. That left only the flying bugs to worry about. Actually there weren't many, because the tree frog's tongue snapped out and hauled any that ventured close in to its mouth. But in the morning it decided to change its location, and jumped. She fell to the ground, hurting her leg. She had to windback so she could slide gracefully off just before the jump.
She found pie trees and fresh streams, so was able to eat and drink as she continued south. Whenever a monster spied her and attacked, she wound time back so she could avoid it. She didn't like doing that, but when it was a choice between shortening her life or dying immediately, it seemed warranted.
In due course she reached Mount Parnassus. This was a huge double-peaked mountain extending far into the sky. She had no idea where the Muses might be, so simply would have to climb to the top and hope she found them along the way.
The north peak was closer, so she started up that. There were a number of paths that separated, ran parallel, and joined, so it was easy to find her way; she simply took whatever branch was headed uphill at the moment.
Then something huge appeared. It was the largest serpent she had ever seen. Its head was half the size of her body, with a jaw that could surely open a mouth capable of swallowing her whole. She stared at it half a moment, horrified, then tried to turn to run away—and could not, for the giant eye had caught her gaze and held her immobile.
"Wh—what—?" she asked, her mouth unable to get more words out.
"I am the Python," the serpent hissed. "I am the passion and nemesis of all the female gender. I roused desire in the first woman, and made her ashamed of her ardor, yet she could not deny it. I will possess the last woman to ever exist. Bow down before me, you helpless creature, for I am about to do you the favor of consuming you." He slithered forward, holding her gaze.
Clio finally acted. She wound the scene back until the snake was out of sight, then quickly dodged to another path and hurried along it, away from the horror. It wasn't just the thought of being swallowed whole, it was the dreadful compulsion of the reptile's speech. He had stirred a feeling in her that she had never had before, an urge to be possessed in some unknown manner. She had to get away from that!
Then the Python appeared before her. How had that happened? She should have left it behind.
"I know your location and nature, innocent girl," he hissed. "You can't escape me." His terrible gaze transfixed her again; she could not move. "No woman can escape me, for I am desire itself. Come to me, my delicious morsel."
Clio wound the scene back again, and fled. This time she ran down the slope, to make better speed. But soon the Python appeared before her once more. "I love to play with you, morsel," he hissed. "But I wonder how you manage to slip my noose? Ah—you possess an unusual magic talent!"
And the serpent was telepathic! That explained how she was hearing him talk, and why she was feeling those awful yet alluring feelings. He had read her talent in her mind, and learned what she had done.
She could not continue winding back and being caught again. She had to find a way to escape him permanently. What could that be?
"There is no way," the Python hissed. "You are destined to be mine, for you are a mere female. All females are mine."
A new emotion entered the fray: annoyance. The reptile was belittling her nature, and she wasn't at all sure he was telling the truth. That prompted her to try again. This time she wound the scene well back, almost to their prior encounter. Then she dodged to the side and ran north, along a level path around the slope of the mountain. By the time the snake realized she hadn't gone where she had gone before, she would be too far ahead to catch. She hoped.
She came to a wine-red pool. Around it sat a number of buxom bare girls. They stared at her, startled. They were long of leg, small of waist, full of bosom, cute of face, and had wild long hair flaring from their heads and bouncing on their shoulders. Every one of them looked like man's desire.
Then they leaped up. "The maenads feed today!" one cried, and started toward her.
Clio did not li
ke the sound of this. Normally pretty girls were nothing to fear, but these ones had pointed teeth, and the wildness of their hair extended to their blazing eyes. That made her nervous, so she wound the scene back and took another path. But she heard a slithering sound, and realized that the Python was coming down this trail. She was caught between the bloodthirsty maenads and the hungry snake.
Then she realized that she might be able to make something of this. Instead of doing another windback, she turned and ran back toward the wild women in real time. She knew the Python was following, and gaining on her; he could slither with remarkable swiftness. But she had a plan.
She rounded a turn. There were the maenads, charging toward her. She ran right into them, dodged, and past them, surprising them. She ran on toward their colored pond.
Meanwhile the Python was the next to come upon the maenads. "So the snake intrudes!" a maenad screamed. "Get him!"
Clio risked a look back. The maenads were swarming over the reptile, clawing at him with their bare hands. He in turn was writhing and snapping. It seemed to be a fair battle.
Meanwhile, Clio was left alone, and for once she hadn't had to use the windback. She kneeled by the pond and scooped up a palmful of its water. She sipped it.
Water? This was wine! It was delicious, but very strong. It went right to her head, making her feel wild.
A maenad appeared, coming from the other direction. "Who are you?" she demanded, baring her teeth in what was definitely not a smile.
"Just a visitor. I was thirsty, so I paused here to—"
The maenad screamed and pounced. She actually leaped through the air, her hair flaring dangerously, and caught hold of Clio, bringing those teeth down for a bite of her shoulder. The pain was awful.
Clio wound back the scene, meanwhile thinking fast. She did not want to speak falsely, but it was clearly unsafe to tell the truth to a maenad, who regarded all other creatures as prey. It would be better to divert the bloodthirsty girl.
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