“That is uncertain,” Ida said. “But we can forage for whatever exists.”
“There is a nearby pine apple tree,” Wenda said.
“We don’t want that,” Jumper said.
Wenda smiled. “There are different varieties. This is a sad tree bearing apples, not explosives.”
“Ah.” He went to harvest some sad apples.
After a moderate time and a few moments, Angela and Meryl returned. “There’s a Strip wending its way not far from here. The forest does not touch it, for some reason.” She smiled, knowing the reason.
Ida and Hilarion returned with a collection of edible fruits. Jumper brought apples, which seemed to be perking up now that they were separated from the unhappy tree. Meanwhile Wenda had explored the ground and located a nest of fire ants, the kind that started small fires for controlled burns to clean up hazardous areas. They had death matches, and she borrowed a match from them to start a cooking fire for Ida to use while Wenda foraged for more sticks of ordinary wood.
Ida fried single- and double-yoked eggs from an eggplant they had found, and waffles from a corrugated waffle bush.
Before long they settled down to eat. Then the mischief started.
“This is an excellent waffle you found and cooked, Ida,” Hilarion said.
“Thank you. But the credit should go to Wenda for making the fire for it.” Ida took a nibble herself.
“Yes, of course.” Then his mouth burst open and he let out a resounding burp. “Oops.”
Ida followed half an instant after with an unsuccessfully stifled burp of her own. She colored, embarrassed. Elder princesses were not supposed to have impolite digestion.
Suspicious, Wenda checked. She knew all the forest products. “Oh, no! You harvested Belchin’ Waffles!”
Meryl stifled a giggle, then bit into her pepper. And froze, her mouth turning blue with cold.
“And that’s a chilly pepper,” Wenda said, horrified anew. “Spit it out before you freeze!”
Meryl did, and the color slowly returned to her face.
Jumper, in manform, took a bite of his own pepper. Suddenly he heard a ringing sound, so loud the others heard it too.
“And that’s a bell pepper,” Wenda said.
Hilarion finished his egg and bit into a warm moist pastry. And fell flat on his back, looking flat.
“Steam roll,” Wenda said.
Jumper had found a sandwich plant near the pine apple tree. He took a bite of a sandwich—and got invisibly whacked on the head. “Club sandwich!” he said ruefully. “I have seen them before. I just wasn’t thinking.”
Wenda looked around. “I think in future I had better do the foraging. It is evident that puns have infested this region, probably because of the nearby Strip.”
The others nodded, ruefully agreeing.
Wenda foraged. She found a patch of vegetables. She was about to harvest some when she saw a child, a little boy, reaching for one. “Don’t take that one!” she exclaimed. “That’s cough-fee. That’s for adults only. It will just make you cough.”
“Then what can I take?” the boy asked. “I’m hungry.”
“Take the one next to it. That’s to-fee. It tastes good.”
The boy took that one and chewed on it, showing no emotion.
That bothered Wenda. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Alex. Short for Alexythemia.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“I am named after my condition. A- means without, lexi- means words, themi- means emotions or feelings. I am unable to express emotions.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Wenda said, her sympathy overflowing. “I wish I knew how to help you.”
“No one can help me,” Alex said with neither joy nor sorrow. “Thank you for the to-fee.”
“You are welcome,” Wenda said. But Alex was already departing. Wenda was sorry she had been unable to address his main problem, but she had no idea how. She returned to her foraging.
Soon she found a patch of sun flours. Those would do for one course. Their ripening flowers contained many seeds that powdered into edible flour. That flour could be baked into bright warm cakes that radiated their sunny nature.
By the time Wenda had scouted out truly edible things, it was late, and they settled down for the night.
Wenda remembered something. “Soon our significant others will visit,” she said delicately. “I have a suggestion for the three of you who are unfortunately left out.”
“No, the Prince and I decided not to,” Meryl said, blushing.
Wenda had to smile. “Not that. This: I remembered something the three of you can do together. If Hilarion makes Meryl forget about Ida’s talent, then Meryl can make suggestions that Ida can make real. That could be extremely useful. We discussed it before, but never followed up. Now, considering the hazards of travel, I think we should work it out in more detail.”
Hilarion, Meryl, and Ida circulated a glance. They were interested.
Then the visitors arrived, seemingly having no trouble locating them on this other world, and Wenda, Jumper, and Angela were pleasantly occupied. The three singletons were in animated dialogue, working it out.
This time Wenda, tired from the day’s activities, fell asleep herself, and did not wake until morning.
“Did you work things out?” she asked Meryl.
“Work what out?”
So her memory of the matter was gone. “The most feasible route to the nearest Strip.”
“Oh. Yes. There’s actually a path to it. Not that I’m eager to get into it.”
“It’s a necessary evil,” Wenda said. “And it should be an education for Hilarion and Angela.”
Wenda foraged for safely edible food for breakfast, and found a regular pie tree. They ate, then moved out. The men hauled the wagon, the fliers scouted the way ahead, and Wenda and Ida followed behind.
“You did work it out?” Wenda asked Ida.
“Yes. Meryl volunteered, but that memory was erased. Hilarion will encourage her to come up with ideas. We will just have to see how well it works, if at all.”
There were tight squeezes, rocks, and boggy sections along the path, slowing the wagon. “I wonder whether there is any way to make the wagon lighter?” Meryl remarked. “Maybe we can find a lighter along the way.”
“I’m sure we can,” Ida agreed immediately.
And there, beside the path, was a lighter. Wenda picked it up, flicked its wheel, and a flash of light emerged. She put it near each of the four wooden wagon wheels, flicking the light on them. Sure enough, they became lighter, and the wagon lifted higher. Now it was easier to haul across the mushy sections. That was just as well, because the small lighter was exhausted, and could not be used anymore.
“It does seem to work,” Ida agreed, as if pleasantly surprised.
It did. But that served to remind Wenda that the Demoness had had two thoughts. One Wenda believed she had figured out, about the use of Hilarion’s talent. What could the other thought be? She had no idea, and that bothered her. It was surely highly relevant.
They emerged from the jungle in late afternoon. There was the blue field with scattered yellow trees, and a red stream in the distance. Such a landscape now seemed familiar.
“This is nervous business,” Hilarion remarked.
Nervous? He had not found it so before. Not since Wenda had covered the Knot.
That gave her the clue. She approached the wicker mat and put her finger to the wood. “I would not do that to yew,” she said. Only the last word had reverted.
“Does that mean what I fear it means?” Jumper asked.
“That the reverse wood is losing its effect,” Wenda agreed grimly. “Touch it.”
He did. His face wavered a bit, but his body did not turn female. “It is no longer working.”
Ida joined them. “The Knot is a very powerful, dense, potent artifact. The shell of reverse wood is thin. The constant radiation must be wearing it out, depleting it.”
That made unfortunate sense. They would have to replace the shell before they went farther. The Strip would be bad enough without the malign influence of the Knot.
They held a brief conference. “We must find more reverse would,” Wenda concluded.
“Is there reverse wood on this world?” Hilarion asked.
“There should be,” Meryl said. “After all, it’s got puns and pie trees.”
“I’m sure you are correct,” Ida agreed.
Their ploy had just worked again. “We must search it out,” Wenda said. “Quickly.”
“I have an idea,” Jumper said. Wenda knew this would be a practical one, not a suggestion for Ida. “I can take my small spider form and ride with Meryl as she circles over the landscape. When I spot reverse wood, I can notify you telepathically. There’s only one problem: I don’t know what it looks like, as I’m pretty sure it won’t be in a grotto of branches and chips.”
“I know,” Wenda said. “But I’m too big for Meryl to carry.”
“If you maintain telepathic contact,” Ida said, “you can have Wenda gaze through your eyes, recognizing it.”
“I can!” Jumper agreed, pleased. He changed form and jumped to Meryl’s hair.
Meryl flew up in a spiral. She used her tail to stabilize her motion through the air. Jumper looked around with his full-circle spider’s eyes. He opened his mind to Wenda, and she saw what he saw.
She knew what to look for. Fly toward that isolated copse, she thought.
Jumper relayed the request to Meryl, who flew that way. And there was a live reverse-wood tree, with a number of fallen branches around it. Bugs and animals tended to leave reverse wood alone, not appreciating its effects.
That’s it, Wenda thought. Reverse would. Come on back. We’ll have to work with it there, away from the Not, then bring it to the wagon. That way the Not won’t deplete it before we’re ready to travel again.
They returned. “That worked so well, I’m almost suspicious,” Meryl said. “I wonder—doesn’t Hilarion have a talent to—” She shook her head. “I forgot what I was going to say.”
Hilarion smiled obscurely. He was not the only one.
“You folk sleep,” Wenda said. “I will work alone during the night.”
“No, you won’t,” Jumper said loyally, returning to regular-sized manform. “I will help you.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, handing him his clothing.
In the end they all joined her at the copse, leaving the Knot by itself. It wasn’t as if it would be going anywhere, and they were more comfortable being away from its growing effect.
Eris appeared. “Not that I would seek to interfere, but aren’t you supposed to be moving the Knot?”
“It wore out the reverse wood,” Jumper explained. “So we came here to fetch more, away from the Knot, so it can’t be depleted before we use it.”
Eris nodded. “That is one tough Knot. But you can surely spare seven minutes or less.” She stepped into him with an embrace and kiss.
“Ooo, I’m jealous,” Meryl said, smiling.
“I do try to be fair,” Eris said. She embraced and kissed Meryl also. The funny thing was that as she did so, she became a handsome winged merman. Wenda was reminded how the Demoness could assume any form she chose.
“Thank you,” Meryl said faintly as it ended. Little hearts orbited her head.
“I borrowed the form of your eventual lover,” Eris said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Then her eyes widened in pleasant surmise. There was a winged merman for her?
Soon the visitors were gone and work resumed. Jumper, Wenda, Angela, and now Meryl all were feeling more positive. Only Ida and Hilarion remained low, but they bore with it without fuss.
Wenda used her talent to shape the branches as before, rendering them into flexible strips. The others wove them into a new wickerwork mat. They took turns foraging for food and sleeping. By morning they had it done.
But they suffered assorted reversals as they touched the wood. This was a new variety, and it did not reverse their genders. Instead it rendered Angela into a demoness with little horns and a mischievous nature. Jumper became a big fly instead of a spider. Meryl had the head of a fish and human legs, complete with panties that freaked out Hilarion. Hilarion became a ragged pauper instead of a well-dressed prince. And Ida became a child instead of a mature woman. They all bore with it and kept working, doing what they could. Except for Angela, who still was unable to touch the wood with any force, regardless of her form, and finally gave up trying.
“We are ready to move on,” Jumper said. “But we’re all tired. I think we should wait before tackling the Strip.”
Wenda was of two minds. She wanted to get on through the Strip and back to Xanth, but realized that they could handle it better if they were properly rested.
“Let me help,” Angela said. “I was unable to do anything, so got a good night’s rest, which I really didn’t need anyway, since I am ethereal. You rest while I explore the Strip and try to locate the Door. Then I can direct you to the most expedient route.”
That made so much sense that all they could do was agree. Then they sank down on the ground and slept.
It was noon when Wenda woke, feeling somewhat but imperfectly refreshed. She assumed it was much the same for the others. Angela had returned with her report.
“It’s awful,” she said. “That Strip has no end; it seems to circle the planet. I could not see the Door, but I think I did see the Sidewalk. It is protected by really awful puns, too mind-rotting to remember. So even taking the most direct route, we shall have to suffer.”
“So we shall suffer,” Hilarion said. He had not seen the puns, so was not fazed. Wenda knew he would soon learn better.
They hauled the new reverse-wood wicker mat to where the Knot remained. Overnight its clothing of reverse wood had withered and curled as if subjected to intense heat. It was of course useless.
The others were unable to approach the Knot. Their fear and loathing might have no sensible basis, but it was genuine. This was Wenda’s job, alone.
She couldn’t roll the Knot onto the mat, because it was securely nestled in the wagon. So she threw it over the top, and drew it together in a ring at the base. This was effective; the dreadful radiation was converted to the semblance of friendship and pleasure.
The others came close, now drawn rather than repelled. They hauled the wagon briskly along parallel to the Strip, following Angela. Now Wenda saw that the various puns confined by the Strip were shrouded by its translucent border so that it was difficult to make them out. Angela had been able to actually enter the Strip and see them without being governed by them, which helped.
“Here,” Angela said, pointing to a section that looked like any other section. They would have been unlikely to select it on their own. Angela now was proving her worth to the Quest.
“Stay close together,” Wenda reminded the others. “Especially when we reach the Sidewalk. We’d never be able to find anyone who got stranded behind.”
“Close,” Hilarion agreed, beginning to appreciate the gravity of the situation.
“Once we go inside, I won’t be able to point the way,” Angela said. “I have been able to hover outside and peer in, but I will lose that perspective inside.”
“We understand,” Wenda said. “You have done what you could.”
They nerved themselves and plunged in, hauling the wagon along. There before them was a tree with many band-like branches. It looked harmless, but when they tried to brush past it, the twigs reached into their pockets and tried to steal things. They had to pull back, because there were too many branches to block.
“It’s a Banditree!” Ida exclaimed. “It means to steal from us.”
“How can we stop it?” Hilarion asked, fending off a branch that was trying to steal his sword.
“There must be a counter-pun nearby,” Wenda said. “I am good at trees; I should be able to find it.”
> She looked around. She spied a Coventree, where unwanted people or things could be sent, but how could she send a rooted tree anywhere? Then she saw something that might work. “There’s an Infantree,” she said, relieved that the dialect spell didn’t prevent her from saying “tree.” Maybe that was because there was no similar-sounding word with a different spelling. Well, not exactly. “It grows tough babies. If we can get them to march on the Banditree, they will keep it too occupied to stop us from passing.”
“Infantree,” Hilarion repeated, as if the word tasted bad. “Make the infants march.”
“Exactly. A Coquetree could do it, luring them forward, but I see none here.”
“Jumper!” Meryl said. “He can change form. Could he become a Coquetree?”
“Yes, I’m sure he could,” Wenda agreed, sounding in her own ears just like Ida.
“Yes, I can,” Jumper agreed. He became a tree with flirtatious foliage. It oriented on the Infantree, where tough babies hung. A platoon of infants dropped to the ground, formed a column, and marched toward him.
Jumper sidled toward the Banditree. This was not something a true Coquetree could do, but fortunately the babies lacked experience. They followed, marching in step. When they were close to the Banditree, Jumper changed back to spider form, effectively disappearing.
“Companee—halt!” the sergeant baby bawled. He looked around, and spied the Banditree. There was a suitable target. “Charge!” he bawled.
In half a moment the tough babies were attacking the Banditree, a natural enemy. It would soon wish it was in the Coventree.
Meanwhile, the party slipped past, unnoticed, trundling the wagon with the Knot. They had nullified an obnoxious pun. Wenda had the feeling that the Knot was disappointed; it had of course wanted them to be balked.
But immediately they faced the next pun. This was a statue of a vigorous robot blocking their way. “A Robust,” Hilarion muttered. “I am coming to appreciate your dread of abysmal puns.”
When they tried to pass, the Robust reached out with his robotic arms to stop them. “I need fuel for my tank,” it said. “Your body fat will do.” It seemed that not all robots burned wood.
“Maybe a female robot is near,” Meryl said.
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