Currant Events

by Piers Anthony

  So when she resumed normal activity, she answered, "Did you know there's a fight with the Python?"

  The maenad was horrified. "And I missed it? Where?"

  Clio pointed. "Down that path. You won't miss it."

  The maenad set off at a run that made all her flesh ripple. It was remarkable how young and sweet she looked, yet how vicious she was. Soon she disappeared around a turn. Clio trusted that she was not too late for the fight.

  She was alone again, but surely not for long. Other maenads might be appearing, and she couldn't divert them all. She also couldn't drink much more of this wine; it made her feel too much like a maenad.

  A bulb flashed. Maybe she could be a maenad, just long enough to find her bearings.

  She removed her clothing, keeping only the snug nymph bark that gave her shape. She looked at her reflection in the pool as it stilled. Yes, she looked a lot like a maenad, except that her teeth were not pointed and her hair wasn't as wild. So she fluffed out her tresses, and would try to keep her mouth closed. She wadded up her clothing to make it seem like a tattered chunk of something dead and carried it in her hand. Then she walked on up the mountain, following the most direct path. More than one maenad saw her, but took her for one of them, especially when she chewed on her chunk of tatter.

  When she was well clear of both maenads and Python, she unwadded her clothing and donned it again. It was badly rumpled, but that couldn't be helped. No one was seeing her anyway; the height of the mountain seemed to lack both people and wildlife.

  At last, tired, she reached the top. There at the apex grew a mighty tree with rich green leaves. She was so hungry that she plucked a leaf and chewed it, and it did help; it made her feel remarkably healthy. Maybe there was Healing Elixir in it.

  But there was nothing else here, so she walked on down the south slope of the north peak toward the north slope of the south peak. She moved faster, in part because the downslope was easier, and in part because of the renewed vigor the leaf had given her. Before nightfall not only was she off the north peak, she was well up the south peak. Just as dusk was sneaking in, wrapping around the mountain, she reached the top.

  There was another tree, just as grand at the other, with a great variety of colors and leaves, as if it were of multiple species. And perched on one of its mighty branches was the biggest, brightest bird she had ever seen. It was the size of a roc bird, though she had never before been close to one of those, but its colors were different. It had feathers like iridescent veneers of light and shadow, and its head was crested like fire. Its wings did not seem quite solid, though they surely were; they were like scintillating veils of mist over a mountain.

  A GREETING, SOLITARY GIRL. It was an ineffably powerful thought, as from the mother of all creatures.

  Clio jumped. "What?"

  YOU DO NOT KNOW ME. It was not a question.

  Clio stared. "The bird!" she exclaimed, astonished. "You're the bird!"

  I AM THE BIRD OF BIRDS, THE SIMURGH. I HAVE SEEN THE UNIVERSE FADE AND REVIVE THREE TIMES. I GUARD THIS TREE OF SEEDS AGAINST MOLESTATION.

  "I—I'm sorry. I'm Clio. I don't want to molest anything. I was just looking for the Muses, because—"

  NOW I SEE. And it was obvious that the bird was peering right into her mind. THERE IS MUCH YOU HAVE TO LEARN.

  "I didn't mean to intrude. I don't know anything about the Tree of Seeds. I'll go now."

  NOT YET, good girl. YOU HAVE EATEN OF THE TREE OF LIFE.

  Did that mean she was in trouble? "Is that the other big tree? I did eat a leaf, because—"

  YOU WERE HUNGRY. YOU DID NOT KNOW. The Simurgh flicked a wing, marvelously, and a seed sailed toward Clio. EAT.

  She caught the seed. It was a big one. She didn't recognize its type, but it looked and smelled good, so she took a bite. It was delicious and filling. "Thank you. I—"

  YOU ARE NOW IMMORTAL AND SAFE, AS LONG AS YOU REMAIN IN THESE ENVIRONS.

  "Immortal! But I'm doomed to die young!"

  YOUR CURSES ARE ABATED HERE. YOU WILL NEVER AGE OR BE EXPOSED TO DAILY DANGER. YOU HAVE ACHIEVED YOUR AMBITION, WITH ONE CAVEAT. WHEN YOU LEAVE MOUNT PARNASSUS, YOU WILL RESUME NORMAL AGING AND DANGER.

  Amazed, Clio grasped at that straw. "Then I want to stay here! But what can I do to earn this reward?" For she had no intention of taking something for nothing.

  THE MUSES ARE GONE. THEY WENT TO MUNDANIA SOME TIME AGO. THEIR RESIDENCE IS VACANT.

  Clio tried to cushion her disappointment. Had her journey been wasted? But perhaps not, if she already had the secret of remaining young. Still—

  WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR REPLACEMENTS, BUT SETS OF NINE SUITABLE SISTERS SELDOM PASS THIS WAY.

  "Replacements? I don't under—"

  YOU HAVE EIGHT SISTERS. WILL THEY SERVE?

  Clio tried to digest this. "You mean, to live where the Muses did? To maintain the premises."

  TO BE THE MUSES.

  This was beyond understanding. "We can't—we don't—"

  THEY, TOO, WILL BE ALLOWED TO EAT OF THE TREE OF LIFE, SO AS TO BECOME IMMORTAL. NONE OF YOU WILL AGE; YOU WILL REMAIN YOUNG ETERNALLY.

  "They'd like that! But how can any of us possibly fill such elite roles? We don't know anything about the roles of the Muses."

  YOU WILL LEARN. IT SEEMS YOU WERE FATED FOR THIS. YOUR INTERESTS ALIGN. SO DO YOUR NAMES. YOU WERE CLEARLY GUIDED. GO BRING YOUR SISTERS HERE.

  "But my sisters want to find good men, princes, to marry. They don't want to be in isolation all their lives."

  THEY ARE WELCOME TO GO OUT TO SEEK PRINCES, AND TO BRING THEM HERE TO STAY, PROVIDED THEY FULFILL THEIR ROLES AS MUSES. YOU, TOO, MAY SEEK A PRINCE OR MAGICIAN TO MARRY.

  Clio laughed uncomfortably. "Somehow I doubt any would be interested, since I would not deceive him about my curves."

  THAT WILL BE YOUR CHOICE. BRING YOUR SISTERS.

  "But—"

  The Simurgh's beak might have shown impatience, had she not been an eternally patient bird. EAT OF THIS SEED, AND TAKE IT WITH YOU FOR THEM. Another seed flicked toward her.

  Clio caught it. Still she tried to protest. "I don't think they could get past the Python and the maenads. When I left them, they were fighting each other, but some may survive, and they're vicious."

  THEY ARE IMMORTAL. THEY KNOW THEY CAN'T DIE, SO THEY FEEL FREE TO FIGHT.

  Oh. That did make sense. "But suppose the Python swallows a maenad?"

  SHE WILL PASS THROUGH HIS DIGESTIVE SYSTEM AND EMERGE UNSCATHED, IN DUE COURSE.

  Clio had to smile. "But I suppose she would not much like the experience."

  There was an echoing smile in the Simurgh's thought. TRUE. YOUR SISTERS WILL TRAVEL SAFELY. NOW EAT OF THE SEED.

  She had forgotten it for the moment. She nibbled on it. Suddenly she was filled with positive belief. "I'll do it," she agreed.

  IT IS THE SEED OF CERTAINTY. REST HERE THIS NIGHT.

  Suddenly that seemed the most sensible thing to do. She lay on the ground where she was and slept. That hinted how tired she was, because princesses never roughed it in such manner. Walking the way she had was bad enough; this was downright crude. Suppose some man came by in the night and gazed lasciviously at her exposed ankles?

  In the morning she woke, well refreshed. She discovered a downy feather the size of a pillow under her head, and a flexible feather the size of a quilt covering her. She had had a most comfortable bed, and her ankles were not exposed.

  She got up and stretched. The Simurgh remained perched on her limb, evidently asleep. There was no point in bothering her; Clio had a job to do. She turned and looked for a suitable path down the mountain.

  I WILL TAKE YOU, GOOD GIRL.

  Then a taloned foot reached down and enclosed her gently. Clio hadn't even realized that the bird had taken wing; her flight was quite silent. Suddenly they were gliding down the mountain slope, then up into the sky, then across the variegated landscape of Xanth.

  Before she really got her bearings, they were at Castle Roogna
, landing by the orchard. The Simurgh set her down and disappeared, literally: there was no sign of the bird. But Clio didn't hesitate; she walked purposefully to the castle, entered, and called out: "Sisters! I'm back, and I have somewhere for us all to go."

  In a moment they clustered around her. Rather than try to explain, she held up the big seed. "Try this first."

  They tried it, as it was fragrant and tasty. Then they too were certain. "We will go," they agreed. "This is what we have been waiting for."

  They gathered their things and bid farewell to Rose, who was sorry to see them go but recognized the need. Then they went outside.

  An invisible curving cage formed about them. It lifted, carrying them into the sky. Once they were fully airborne, the rest of the bird appeared; they were within the loose enclosure of her talons.

  "Sisters, meet the Simurgh," Clio said. "Simurgh, these are my eight sisters. We are all certain we want to join you on Mount Parnassus, and assume the roles of the nine Muses."

  "And so it was," Clio concluded, opening her eyes and seeing the tiny dragons. "We became the Muses in the year 937, and have been so for the past hundred and sixty-seven years. The Simurgh was right: we learned, and I think we have performed adequately. We seldom leave the mountain, though I did attend Humfrey's first wedding and have seen him on occasion since then. I have written many histories of Xanth, and now am on a quest to discover why one volume has become opaque to me. I have to find a red berry. I will age normally as long as I am away from the mountain, and face daily danger, but it just has to be risked. If I get too old, I will die, but I hope to wrap this up expeditiously and remain young enough to live."

  "We will assist you," Drew said. "Those maenads seem like fun. So does the Python."

  "I will introduce you to them. They no longer chase me, lest I write them out of history."

  The two tiny dragons chuckled. "You have power now," Drew said. "That helps. But we'll help too."

  "We can do a lot, when we put our little minds to it," Drusie agreed. "We'll find the red berry. This should be easy."

  Clio suspected that they were mistaken, but she didn't argue. It would be nice if it did turn out to be easy.

  6

  Sherlock

  "So how do we start?" Drew asked.

  "Well, I'm not sure. I had rather expected more direction from the Good Magician than I received."

  "You are being polite," Drusie said, reading the situation in her mind. "I'd have steamed his little toe."

  Clio stroked the little pink dragon's back with one finger. "I appreciate the support, but there's surely a reason for his attitude."

  "Take us there," Drew said. "I'll toast his big toe until he gives you more information."

  Clio suppressed a wicked temptation. "That would not be expedient. I believe it is best simply to muddle through on my own."

  "The trouble with you is that you're too nice a person."

  "Would that it were so. Then maybe I could find a compatible man and marry."

  "You can do that?" Drusie asked.

  "Marry? Of course. Except that who would want to marry a Muse and be confined forever to Mount Parnassus?"

  "We'll work on it," Drew said.

  They meant well. "Thank you."

  "What's that on your wrist?" Drusie asked.

  Clio looked. There on her left wrist was the magic compass Humfrey had given her. She had thought that would fade out, now that her Service was done. "That's the device I used to locate you, so that you could help me on Dragon World. The blue arrow shows the way I should go, and the red one shows how much time I have to get there."

  "That must show you where to go next," Drew said. "You don't seem to have long."

  Surprised, Clio actually read the dials. "True. I'd better see what it wants me to see."

  They set off. Clio knew the fastest paths down the mountain, and no one bothered her. Soon they were walking across the regular terrain of Xanth.

  It turned out to be a longish walk, with the red arrow constantly getting nearer to zero hour. Clio hurried, but realized she might be a bit late.

  Naturally, since she was in a hurry, she encountered another person. But maybe this would help. "Hello. I'm Clio. My talent is to wind time back when I need to."

  The girl jumped. "Oh, I'm sorry—I didn't see you. I'm Deirdre. My talent is oversight. I see everything from above, but nothing in front of me."

  "Do you see anything unusual in the direction I'm going?"

  "Well, there's an ogre with a garden. That's unusual."

  It was, but Clio doubted that was where she was headed. "Thank you." She hurried on.

  "Another girl ahead," Drew said.

  Sure enough, there she was, right in the path. Clio couldn't escape another introduction. "I'm Clio, and I'm in a hurry."

  "I'm Michele, and it's not my fault."

  Clio paused. "What's not your fault?"

  "That you're in a hurry. My talent is shifting blame or credit."

  That was interesting, and Clio would have liked to learn more of it, but she simply couldn't wait. "It's working; my hurry has nothing to do with you." She rushed on, leaving Michele somewhat nonplussed.

  Just as the red arrow touched the mark, they came into sight of an ogre. He was twice the height of a human man, and solid in proportion. "Me bash, you crash!" he said in the typical dull rhyme that was all most folk ever heard of ogre talk. He struck something, and it went flying into the distance.

  The blue arrow followed the flying object.

  Clio sighed. She had another windback to do.

  She wound back the scene. The flying thing reappeared, came up against the ogre's hamfist, and touched the ground. "!hsarc uoy, hsab eM"

  She wound it back a bit more, then looked. It was a human man getting bashed. "Stop that ogre!" she cried.

  Both dragons darted forward, flying low. One jetted a small blue flame, toasting the ogre's right big toe. The other pink-steamed his left little toe.

  "He go, me toe!" the ogre said, aware of some slight discomfort. But that was enough to distract him from the man he had been about to bash. He squatted, swatting at his feet. The dragons zipped away and rejoined Clio.

  Clio caught the man's arm. "Get out of here," she said. "We'll distract the ogre."

  The man stumbled away, obviously uncertain what was happening. Clio stood before the squatting ogre, whose huge ugly face was now about her own head height. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded imperiously. She could invoke the Voice of Authority when she needed to.

  "Me Bash, he dash," he said.

  "I saw that." Though now it hadn't happened.

  "He means his name is Bash," Drew said from her pocket. Because this was a mental effect, he was inaudible to the ogre. "He hurried to save his garden from molestation."

  "Garden! Molestation!" Since when did ogres care about either? Yet this was obviously the gardening ogre Deirdre had mentioned.

  "Since Bash started farming puns," Drusie said. "He's got a garden of them, and the man messed it up. So Bash got rid of him. He has a case."

  "He doesn't grow them all," Drew said. "Some he collects. He really cares about it."

  What a reversal! But it seemed this was a situation she needed to rectify. It did not seem to have anything to do with a red berry, but maybe that was in another part of the garden. "Hello, Bash. I am Clio. Perhaps I can help. What damage did the man do to your garden?"

  The ogre pointed a hamfinger to what looked like the wreck of a Mundane car. Steam was rising from it.

  "It's a car-burr-ator," Drew said. "It's supposed to freeze cars, whatever they are. Now it makes them overheat."

  "I will fix it," Clio said. "What else?"

  Bash pointed to an apelike creature.

  "You certainly look charming, fair lady," the ape called. "You must be a king's daughter."

  Of course she was a king's daughter, but that was a long time ago. "What is wrong with this?" she asked Drew.

  "T
hat's a harang-u-tan," the dragon explained as he did more mind reading. "He's supposed to hurl insults. Now he wafts compliments."

  Which ruined the pun. "I will fix that too," Clio told the ogre. "What else?"

  He pointed to several big white letter F's lying in a pile. "Those are tasteless white F's," Drew explained. "They used to be tasty brown E's."

  "That too," Clio said with a sigh.

  There turned out to be a number of spoiled puns in the garden. There were retro specs that could see the past; now the glasses looked into the future. There was a grain of sand that was actually a peep show, showing a distant person whatever it saw; Clio had heard of those, and knew they were popular with young men who liked to scatter them around girls' private living quarters. Now it was reversed, showing the person who was trying to use it. There was an impro vise that was supposed to hold anything on the spot; now it repelled things. This garden had become a disaster.

  Clio did what she didn't like, and wound the scene back farther yet, until the visiting man was entirely gone from the scene. That should fix the problem.

  "Now we need to intercept the man and find out what he did to that garden," she told the dragons. "But he came from the other side, and I'll have to run by the ogre to get to him. That hardly seems feasible."

  "I'll fly ahead and intercept him," Drew said. "I'll tell him to wait where he is and meet you when you arrive."

  "Thank you." The dragons really were helping.

  Drew flew ahead so rapidly he looked like a small blue bird. Clio walked at her normal sedate pace. In a generous moment she passed the garden, which now had a car motor with frost on it, a pile of warm brown E's, and a talking ape. "Who do you think you are, you crazy damsel?" he demanded. "Can't you see this is private property? If my master Bash Ogre finds you, he'll squeeze you into pulp juice."

  Yes, the garden was back in form. She ignored the haranguing ape, avoided stepping over the peep show sand, and walked on. Soon she encountered the ogre. "Who you?" Bash demanded truculently.

  "I am Clio, the Muse of History. I believe you'll find everything in order in your garden."

  "Me see." He tromped on to investigate.

  "Why didn't he squeeze you into pulp?" Drusie asked.