"Oh, go ahead and use it," Metria said. "I took it from Esk Ogre some years back, and the truth is, things were more interesting when he was around."
"Things always are, when a male's around."
"How true! But now he's gone and married a brassie girl from the gourd named Bria, and they have a son named Brusque."
"Everybody's getting married!" Mela said petulantly.
"But the son of an ogre and a brassie—does he have a talent?"
"Yes. He can make himself or other things hard and heavy, or light and soft. That should be handy, when he is grown."
Mela nodded knowingly. "Surely so. But it doesn't solve my problem. I need a prince."
"Why not a regular man?" the demoness asked. "There are more of them."
"Well, after almost nabbing a prince, I fear it would feel like backsliding to settle for an ordinary man."
"I suppose so. My friend Dana Demoness married a king. Now she won't settle for anything less."
"Oh? What king?"
"King Humfrey."
"I didn't know there was a King Humfrey! Is he any relation to the Good Magician Humfrey?"
"The same."
"But Humfrey's no king! He's the Magician of Information."
"He's no king now. But he was then. She got bored and left him, but after a century or so she got bored being single, so she returned to him, and is married to him today."
"But I thought he was married to the Gorgon."
"He is. It gets complicated to explain."
"It must!" But Mela was too tired at the moment for complexity. "Is it all right if I sleep on the other pillows?"
"Be my guest," Metria said grandly, fading away.
In the morning Mela left the cozy den and searched out some fruits and nuts. She needed to do something else, but wasn't sure how to manage it cleanly while wearing the clumsy legs; she wished she could return to the sea for a while or even an (ugh!) freshwater pond, and not just for that. The land was just such an awkward place!
The Demoness Metria appeared, in her human form, standing in the air. "Must you go so soon?" she inquired.
"I thought you wanted to be rid of me."
"I do. I was being facetious."
"That's more like it." Mela had relatively few illusions about demons, having encountered them on occasion.
"You look squirmy."
"I would ask you whether there is water near, but you would only misdirect me."
"No, I would answer truly, because then you wouldn't believe me and would go the wrong way." The demoness evidently understood why Mela wanted water, so was teasing her, demon fashion.
"Never mind. I'll do it in the den." Mela headed for the beerbarrel tree.
"Oh no you don't! Go to that purpose bush over there." Mela's left arm stretched out and her hand assumed the form of an arrow.
"What kind of bush?"
"Aim, design, province, sphere, object, what it's made for—"
"Function?"
"Whatever," Metria agreed crossly.
"What's a function bush?"
"Just go there and see. It's really quite natural."
Mela knew that this was mischief, but it was better to humor the demoness, whose mischief was surely not as bad as her anger. She walked to the bush, which had the smell of manure. Then suddenly she folded over and accomplished her business despite her clumsy form.
A function bush: now she understood its name. It had its own way of collecting fertilizer.
Mela straightened up and walked away from it. "Thank you, Metria," she said. For the demoness had after all facilitated the necessary chore.
"You're not mad?" Metria inquired, disappointed.
"Furious." There was an art to managing demons.
"You're not going to throw any of it at me?" "That wouldn't be ladylike."
"It would just loop around and splat on you."
"That, too."
"You're just trying to be dull, so I'll lose interest and stop pestering you."
"Demons are getting smarter all the time."
"Well, it won't work! I'll just tag along and see you mess up some other way."
"Suit yourself."
"Confound it! I can't tell whether you even want to get rid of me! Maybe you prefer to have my company."
"I would prefer it even more if you were a male prince demon. Perhaps you can get one to come and pester me in lieu of you. Males can be such brutes."
"That does it! I am going to stay and be perfectly nice to you! What do you think of that?"
Mela sighed. "You are very sophisticated in your pestering." The truth was that she didn't really care whether the demoness remained or departed; she just wanted to keep her on good behavior.
They walked generally west, but the freshwater river threatened to return, with its pigs and things, so they veered south. The land became hilly, so they veered some more to move along a contour. The demoness was now walking on the ground, so that she seemed just like another mortal creature. She was even solid, now; Mela could tell, because she left footprints.
Then she heard a faint booming sound. "What's that?"
"A pronoun used to indicate a person, place, thing, idea, or state of being. I keep confusing it with which."
"I don't mean the word! I mean that sound."
"What sound?"
Mela saw that the demoness was still teasing her. She surely heard the booming and know all about it, but wouldn't tell. So Mela shut up and walked on.
The booms became louder. Finally she came to a series of small hills shaped like little mountains. At the top of each hill was a human baby. Every so often each baby opened its mouth and let out a surprisingly loud boom. "Why, they're baby boomers," Mela said, surprised. "There certainly are a lot of them!"
"They will be something when they grow up," Metria remarked. "They'll be big boom-booms."
"But what's the point?"
"There is no point. They're just there. They strayed from Mundania, where there are even more of them."
Mela shook her head. "Mundania is a strange place!"
"That is true. Even the Mundanes don't understand it. That is why they come to Xanth whenever they can. Fortunately most of them don't know the way, any more than you know the way to the Good Magician's castle."
"But if I asked you, you would merely direct me wrong. Or right, if I didn't believe you."
"Of course. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Lovely." Despite her best effort, Mela was getting annoyed by the demoness.
They passed beyond the baby boomers and came to a big lake. It looked very pleasant. Mela stood and gazed at it.
"Aren't you going for a swim?" Metria inquired innocently.
"No."
"Oh, you already know its nature."
This made Mela pause. Suddenly she suspected that the demoness wasn't thinking of fresh water. But the demoness wouldn't tell, if she asked. So she shrugged. "I'll go around it."
"Actually, it's not as if the Kiss-Mee Lake hurts anyone. It's not nearly as bad as a love spring."
So this was the Kiss-Mee Lake! She had heard of it. "Wasn't there some trouble with the associated river? I heard that your friends pulled it straight, and then it was known as the Kill-Mee River."
"Yes, the hummers got really bad. That's when I had to leave, and I found the ogre's den. But I helped him restore the river. That was interesting."
"So I will just walk around it to the south," Mela said.
"By all means. I will walk with you."
That meant that there promised to be something interesting for the demoness to the south, which in turn meant that Mela wouldn't like it. "Oh—the Kiss-Mee River flows from the south shore!" Mela said, realizing. "So I can't go that way, unless I want to mess with fresh water anyway."
"Sure enough," Mela agreed, disappointed.
"So I'll have to walk around it to the north instead."
"By all means."
That did not sound promising either. But what other
choices were there? Mela certainly didn't want to swim across it, and she couldn't fly across it.
She opened her invisible purse and took out her manual. What she wanted was surely in there, but she didn't know what to look for. That was why she couldn't use it to locate a husband; it showed all the creatures of Xanth, but couldn't point out individuals or give their marriage status. Now she needed a way to cross the lake without soiling her body with fresh water, and the manual couldn't tell her how.
The sky darkened, dimming the page. She looked up. There over the water a nasty little cloud was forming. So she flipped the pages until she came to clouds, and there it was: King Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, the meanest of clouds. But since she had nothing either to gain or fear from a cloud, she ignored Fracto, and he ignored her.
Then she saw something strange. It was a little red boat, zooming along backwards, rowed by a very big man. No, by a very small giant. No, something even odder. But what?
"Fascinating," Metria said, and faded out.
That surely meant trouble. But it just might be a ruse. If this was someone who could help her cross the lake, the demoness might be trying to scare her away, so that she would after all be stranded. So she couldn't be sure. The best thing to do was chance it. If she got into the boat with the man, and he tried to get fresh—how she hated fresh-ness!—she could always jump into the water, loathsome as it was, and escape. So she waited. But she took the precaution of hiding behind some redberry bushes.
The boat plowed right on toward the shore not far distant. The rower didn't seem to realize. He banged right into the bank, and grunted as the boat suddenly stopped. "Oh, everything's wrong!" he cried in a high voice. "I'll never find the Good Magician!"
Mela's ears perked up. He was looking for the Good Magician? This could be a wonderful break!
She stepped forward. "Hello," she said brightly.
The stranger jumped right into the air and screamed, bursting into tears. Startled, Mela fell back into the bushes, scratching her nevermind. "Well, I didn't mean any harm," she said, nettled. "I just happen to be looking for the Good Magician myself, and I wondered—" She broke off, staring at the huge creature. "Why, you're not a man at all! You're a—well, just what are you?"
"I'm an ogre girl," the other responded. "You frightened me."
"An ogre! But they're very strong, ugly and stupid, and justifiably proud of it. You're—"
"A very poor excuse for an ogress," the other said. "I can't even crunch bones very well."
Mela decided to let that pass. "Do you think you might row me across the lake? I think the Good Magician is somewhere on the other side."
"He is?" the ogress said, brightening. "Sure! Do you know the way?"
"Not exactly. Just in a very general sense. But if you want to go there too—"
"Yes!"
"Then let's introduce ourselves. I'm Mela Merwoman. I'm looking for a husband."
"I'm Okra Ogress. I'm looking for my fortune. I want to be a Main Character."
"A main character? Why?" "Because nothing really bad ever happens to a main character, and a whole lot of bad things are going to happen to me if I don't get away from them."
"Now that's interesting! Do you mean I could get a good husband if I became a main character?"
"Sure. Main characters always live happily ever after, so if you need a husband to make you happy, then you'd get one."
"Well, Okra, I'm glad I met you! Let's get on across Lake Kiss-Mee, and we'll see if we can find the Good Magician together."
"Lake what?"
"Kiss-Mee. Didn't you know?"
"But I was rowing on Lake Ogre-Chobee!"
"You must have rowed right up the river to Lake Kiss-Mee without knowing it!" Only a very strong and stupid person could have done that, but that made sense in this case.
"Okay." Okra hauled the red boat around and plopped it back into the water. "I'll row. Maybe it will work better if you can tell me where we're going."
"It should," Mela agreed, realizing that this was part of the ogress's problem: she had not been able to look forward.
So they got into the boat, and Okra started to row. The boat fairly leaped through the water with each heave. Mela looked ahead—and saw the cloud, King Fracto, changing course to intercept them. "Um, maybe we should turn back and wait for Fracto to go away," she said.
But the ogress was working so hard that she didn't hear. Well, maybe they could make it across before the storm hit. Mela hoped so. She did not relish the thought of getting doused with fresh rainwater.
CHAPTER 2.
Gwenny
It was a perfect day for a picnic. They would smell flowers and eat red, yellow, and blueberries and sun in the sun. With luck they would encounter a winged dragon or a griffin. From the time of her association with Che Centaur, she had had no fear of winged monsters, for all of them were his friends.
Gwendolyn Goblin could not remember when she had been as happy as during these last two years as the guest of the winged centaur family. She had been well treated at home in Goblin Mountain, but confined to her apartment, because, well, because. Then little Che Centaur had come to be her companion, and his friend Jenny Elf who was the same age as Gwenny, and they had gone to be with Che's family. For the first time Gwenny had experienced the freedom of the great outside, and she reveled in it.
Of course there were bad things too. Che's parents, Cheiron and Chex, insisted that every creature in their household be properly educated. Thus the teenage goblin girl and elf girl shared seven-year-old Che's fate, and had to spend weary hours learning how to count and figure and read and write, and all about the geography and history of Xanth. They even had to learn the various types of magic, and the rules of human and nonhuman cultures. What a bore! Sometimes Gwenny and Jenny pretended to lose their spectacles so that they couldn't study, but the adults were hideously astute at finding them. It was the one awful thing about centaurs: they were intellectual. They represented the very most extreme case of the dreadful Adult Conspiracy, which dictated that anyone young enough to be a non-Conspirator must Know and Not Know a rigorous schedule of things. Naturally most of the interesting things were in the Not-Know category.
But overall, the positives outweighed the negatives. Gwenny was well fed and well cared for and safe, and she had close companions who didn't like studying any better than she did. The alternative was to be locked in her suite at home with only her mother, Godiva, for company—and the truth was, Godiva also had distressingly adult notions about education and behavior. The rest of Goblin Mountain was a total loss; it was dark and gloomy and full of goblins. Who wanted to be in a mountain full of goblins?
They skipped along the path, Che running beside Gwenny so that she would be guided by him and would not misstep. A visit to a healing spring had cured her lameness, but not her eyesight. Her eyes weren't ill; they merely were unable to focus quite right at ordinary distances. Jenny Elf had the same problem. Healing water restored a person's body to its natural state, and their natural state was a different way of seeing than that of most folk.
They had hardly reached the first field of flowers before there was a figure in the sky. Gwenny put on her spectacles so she could make out what it was. It was Chex, Che's dam, flying down to intercept them. She landed lightly on her four hooves and folded her wings. "Gwenny, I have what may be bad news. Your mother is here."
There was a pause. Then the three young folk burst out laughing. They knew Chex didn't mean it the way it sounded. All of them liked Godiva Goblin despite her adult tendencies.
But in a moment they sobered. Godiva would not have come here without good reason, and that was indeed likely to be bad news. "Did she say—?"
"No. But I think you had better talk with her immediately."
"I'll hurry back to the house!"
"I will take you."
"But Che and Jenny—"
"We shall get back on our own," Che said quickly.
So Gwenny climbed onto Che
x's back, and Chex flicked her with her tail, making her feather light. Then Chex spread her wings and leaped into the air. They were airborne.
Gwenny still thrilled to this experience. She hung on to Chex's mane and peered down as the centaur circled to gain elevation. There were Che and Jenny, waving. Jenny was holding her little orange cat, Sammy. Then Chex straightened out and headed across the forest, not far above the treetops. It seemed almost like walking through waist-high bushes, looking down on them, only these were full trees.
Soon they landed in the yard before the house. Godiva was there, her flowing black hair forming a cape about her body.
Gwenny jumped off—and sailed high into the air, because she had forgotten how light she was. Chex reached up with a hand and caught her ankle, bringing her down. She set Gwenny gently on the ground. It took a while for the lightening effect to wear off.
Gwenny walked—carefully—to her mother and hugged her. "My dear, you have lost weight! Have you been eating enough?" Godiva exclaimed. Of course it was humor, because she understood the centaur magic and could see that Gwenny, far from being under-fleshed, was now a rather pretty figure of a gobliness. She was, after all, fourteen years old, which was just about old enough for a goblin girl. Naturally no adult would tell her what she was old enough for. Adults could be real pains at times.
"Why are you here, Mother?" Gwenny asked.
Godiva became extremely serious. "Your father is dead. You know what that means." She did not pretend any grief; Gouty Goblin had been a typical male, which meant that he had few if any endearing traits, and had done his best to eradicate those.
Gwenny felt a sudden chill. Indeed she knew what this meant: that her idyllic time with the centaur family was over, and perhaps her life itself. For she was the next in line to be the chief of the goblins of Goblin Mountain—the first female ever to aspire to that role.
"Mother, I'm not ready!" she said.
"I know that, dear. I had hoped that your father would hang on a few years longer, to give you time. But he was unobliging even in this. It is now or never."
The Color of Her Panties Page 2