Che glanced at Gwenny. "I believe we can arrange that."
Gwenny brought out her bottle of Lethe water. She sprinkled one drop on the boy. "Forget how dull childhood is," she said.
Darren looked up. "Hey, it's fun being a child! I like it! I don't ever want to get into any of the Adult Conspiracy stuff."
Jenny turned away. How little he knew—yet how familiar was the sentiment.
Che made the sailer light and hauled it away, leaving the happy boy in his yard. They brought it to the path. Then they all got on it.
Immediately a stiff wind came up to address the sail. The sailer began to move. Soon it was moving so rapidly they had to hang on. But it was taking them where they wanted to go much faster than they ever could have done it on foot, and this was more restful, too. The scenery whizzed by so swiftly it became a blur.
But how were they going to stop? Jenny wished they had thought of that before they boarded this craft.
The blurred scenery turned dark. They were passing through a mountain cleft or perhaps even a tunnel bored by the serpent. Or maybe it had gotten bored after the serpent left it, since nothing interesting was happening. Then there were more trees and glades. Finally it opened out, and they could see far to either side, across a level plain or marsh.
"Where are we?" Gwenny cried in the wind.
"The east shoreline, I fear," Che cried back.
"But then we must be sailing into the—" Jenny started.
SPLASH! The sailer threw up a great cloud of beach sand and plowed into the water. It bounced and flipped as its wheels touched the liquid, and the three of them landed in waist-deep brine.
"The sea," Jenny finished belatedly. Now she had her answer about how they were going to stop. At least they weren't hurt.
They plowed back to the beach, dragging the sailer. They were soaking, but there wasn't time to worry about that. The day was latening, and they didn't know how far they still had to go.
However, the beach itself glowed brightly, so that it seemed that the day would never end here. "I wonder where this is?" Gwenny said.
Then Che spied a sign. "That explains it," he said, pointing. The sign said DAY tona BEACH. "Though whoever painted this sign was sloppy; I think it should be DAY on a BEACH."
"Literacy isn't what it used to be," Gwenny agreed.
But Jenny remembered their mission. "Sammy—" she began, fearing where he might go next.
The cat walked a few paces south and stopped.
They came and stood by him. "But there is nothing here!" Gwenny said.
Indeed, the sand was bright and bare. There was nothing even close. Yet Sammy sat licking a paw, unconcerned.
"Maybe it is below?" Gwenny offered. But the sane was undisturbed, and the cat wasn't digging.
"Sammy, think of the route," Jenny said.
The cat's mental map appeared. The line went straight up.
They looked up. There was nothing there but a white cloud floating serenely by itself.
Yet that was where the route line went.
"The Nameless Castle is nowhere on peninsular Xanth," Che said. "We assumed that meant it was oft to the side, such as in the sea. But it just might be above Xanth instead."
"We have to reach that cloud," Gwenny said.
"But how can we do that?" Che asked. "I'm not sure it's within range of your wand, and we have no way to fly."
Jenny had a bright notion. "Maybe Che could fly—" she began.
"If he just forgot that he could not," Gwenny finished. She brought out her bottle.
"The logic is fallacious," Che said. "I am simply not grown enough to—"
Gwenny sprinkled a drop of Lethe water on him. "You can't fly," she said, identifying what he was to forget.
"This is ridiculous," the little centaur protested. "I simply cannot yet—because my wings have not yet—" He hesitated, surprised. "What can I not do?"
"I'm sure we don't know," Jenny said. "But we are in a hurry, so please make us very light, and then you can carry us up as you fly to that cloud overhead."
"Of course." He flicked the two of them, and the cat, and then himself. Each of them took one of his hands, with Jenny holding Sammy. Then he spread his wings, which had grown and feathered out nicely in the past two years, more than had been apparent before. So had his chest muscles, which helped anchor the wing muscles. He pumped them, and the flight feathers caught hold of the air.
They lifted from the sand. At first things were unsteady, because this was his first flight, and he was supporting the others. But in a moment he got the hang of it, and was able to make a controlled spiral, ascending toward the cloud.
Jenny looked down. Already the ground was distressingly far down. She felt alarmingly insecure. But she kept a stiff upper lip, and a stiff lower one too. After all, this had been her idea.
So she looked up, and saw the base of the cloud approaching. It was quite ordinary. But how could there be a castle up here? Castles didn't float in air!
But clouds did, and a castle might rest on a cloud, if the right magic were in operation.
Che achieved the edge of the cloud, breathing hard. "My wings are getting tired," he gasped. Then his wing beat faltered. They began to sink down.
Jenny reached out and grabbed the edge of the cloud. It felt like cotton stuffing. She hooked her three fingers and thumb into it and pulled the three of them and Sammy in. She knew that she wouldn't have been able to do it, if there had been one more of them, or one less finger. Then Gwenny caught hold also. They were all still very light, so they were able to haul themselves and Che in without falling. They climbed onto the cloud and set the little centaur on his feet there.
"Thank you," Che said. "My wings got so tired! You'd think I had never flown before!" He cocked his head. "Actually—"
"They'll recover," Jenny said quickly. "It was a difficult climb, holding the two of us. But now we're here, and we can look for the—" She broke off, amazed.
All three of them stood gaping. For there before them was the Nameless Castle. It was cloud-colored and seemed to be made of cloud stones, but overall was solid and tall, with turrets and buttresses and embrasures and pennants and all. There was even a moat. One thing a cloud could provide was water. Jags of lightning jumped from its highest pinnacles. That was another thing a cloud could provide.
Sammy jumped down and walked toward the drawbridge. They followed, still awed. This would be a perfectly ordinary castle, if it weren't up here on the cloud. As it was, it was extraordinary.
The drawbridge was down and the porcullis up. It was almost as if the castle expected them. Yet they were here only because of Gobble's attempt to cheat. Jenny was amazed that they had managed to get this far. Could they actually fetch back the roc's egg?
They set foot on the drawbridge. It was made of the same tough cloud stuff as the rest, and readily supported their weight. Of course they didn't weigh much at the moment, but if they had, it still would have been strong enough. Jenny bent to tap its substance with her fingers, and it was like spongy tree bark, soft on the surface but with very little give beneath.
They walked on into the main doorway. It was huge, as was the castle. A giant could have used this!
The great hall led to a mighty central chamber, but it was empty. So they tried a side hall, but that led endlessly away, with many blank doors at its sides. Where was the roc?
"Sammy, find the roc," Jenny said.
The cat bounded off. She had forgotten to hold on to him! All she saw was his mental map, which disappeared as he followed the highlighted route. So she just had to run after him, as usual, trying to keep his tail in sight.
It turned out to be no easy route. They wound through halls, chambers, and galleries as devious as those of the caves they had left, wending their way gradually upward. It seemed there was no grand central staircase, but rather many little hidden stairs scattered around the castle. The only thing that enabled Jenny to keep up with the cat was the number of closed door
s that balked him; he had to wait for her to come open them. This castle was a veritable puzzle box!
"This portion is made for folk our size," Che remarked. "In contrast to the main gate and hall, which is made for a giant. I wonder why?"
"Maybe this is the servants' quarters," Gwenny said.
"Yet there are no occupants of this castle, large or small," he pointed out.
"Except maybe the roc," Jenny said. Then she had a nasty notion. "Just what do rocs eat?"
"Any creature they can catch," Che said. Then he realized the significance of that. "The roc could have eaten everyone in the castle!"
"But the roc would be too big to get in here," Gwenny said. "And there's no damage to show that it ripped any of this open to get at anyone."
"So there must be some other explanation," Jenny said, relieved. "They must have gone elsewhere. We don't know how old this castle is, after all. They could have left centuries ago. It could have gotten boring on this cloud."
Finally they came to the top floor. Here, there was a lone passage leading to the center of the castle. It opened onto a balcony overlooking another awesome sight.
For there below them, in a vast central chamber, sat the huge roc bird. It was of course roc colored, with a metallic sheen to its feathers. It was sitting on a monstrous nest fashioned of marbled granite. In the nest, just barely visible, was the rounded curve of the phenomenal roc's egg. It sparkled like a gem, iridescently.
"If just that one little sliver of it is that lovely," Gwenny breathed, "what must the whole thing look like?"
"Mind-bendingly spectacular," Che said.
They stared down for a while, but the big bird did not move. "Is it asleep?" Jenny asked.
"Do you know, I think it is a statue," Che replied. "See, it is not breathing. This is a statue, an exhibit: bird, nest, and egg. So we should be able to borrow the egg without any trouble after all."
That was a great relief. They all found a ramp leading down to the base of the exhibit, just right for them. They trekked down it. Jenny watched the roc somewhat nervously, but it was true: it neither breathed nor moved an eyelid. It was indeed a statue, so realistic that it would have fooled anyone who did not watch it closely for a time.
They came to the base of the nest. They walked around it. One of the roc's enormous tail feathers projected out and down. Jenny reached up and touched it. It was longer than she was and as hard as stone.
"Isn't that egg too big to fit through the doors?" Gwenny asked.
"It certainly is!" Jenny agreed.
Che looked around. "From here I can see that there is an opening to the sky. That must be where the roc flew in, before it was petrified. Or where it could have flown in, to provide the statue verisimilitude."
"You're getting centaurish again," Gwenny informed him. "I can't even imagine that word you just used."
Che looked abashed. "I only meant that if they wanted to make the exhibit seem realistic, they had to have a way for the bird to reach the nest. Just as if it really could fly."
"Why didn't you say that, then?" she said severely. But she couldn't maintain her frown, and the smile started leaking through.
"So maybe we can use the wand to float the egg out the top," Jenny said. "And down to the ground below. And you can fly after it."
"It does seem feasible," he agreed. "Provided I have some rest stops along the way."
"So how do we get the egg out from under the roc?" Gwenny asked.
"You can use the wand to loft the roc out of the way. Then I can flick the egg and make it light enough to lift. When Jenny and I have it clear, you can lower the roc onto the empty nest, and then use the wand to loft the egg."
Gwenny brought out the wand and faced the bird. She pointed the wand, moved it—and the roc rose smoothly up. The complete egg was revealed, and its luster magnified. It was indeed the most beautiful object Jenny had seen. She had not realized that a mere egg could be so magnificent. But of course this was not a true egg, but a giant gem, part of the exhibit.
"Our turn," Che said. He stood beside the egg and flicked his tail, touching it lightly, making it light.
The egg flashed. Light radiated out from its crystalline center, bathing them all. It did not blind them, but it added an iridescent cast to their hair, skins, and clothing. They were abruptly marked folk.
"Uh-oh," Gwenny said.
The roc squawked. It spread its wings and extended its legs. It stood on the nest, glaring down at them.
Huge panels slid across the skylight, sealing it closed. There was the sound of doors slamming throughout the castle. There was also the crash of the portcullis slamming down across the front entrance, and the squeak of the hinges of the lifting drawbridge.
They had just been locked into the Nameless Castle with an angry monster predator bird. Suddenly Jenny knew what had happened to all the other folk of this castle. They had come from their safe chambers into the roc's domain and tried to steal the egg. Touching the egg was what made the roc come to angry life. That was the terrible trap of the Nameless Castle. No wonder little news of it got out!
Bratty Gobble Goblin must have known or suspected that it would be this way. So that Gwenny would not only be unable to fetch the egg, she would be dead. And they had fallen for the dastardly plot.
CHAPTER 13.
Simurgh
They were in a dusky cave. Okra and Ida stood on rock, but Mela stood at the brink of water. Before she could catch her balance, she fell in with an ungainly splash.
"Oh!" she spluttered, her hair turning sickly green. "Fresh water! Ugh!"
Okra immediately reached in and hauled her out by an arm. Naturally Mela had not changed to her tail, because of the awful water. Now she was soaked through.
"This is a weird place," Ida said. "What's that?"
Mela Merwoman looked around. They were standing beside a collection of bones and skulls. Mean-looking little bats hovered near, watching them suspiciously. Above, on a broad ledge; was what appeared to be a huge dragon's nest filled with gems—and the dragon was there! It rose up, jaws gaping, peering down at them.
Then its eyes fixed on Mela's soaking bosom. It froze.
Mela glanced down. It surely wasn't her sex appeal that mesmerized the monster. There on her bosom were the two firewater opals, gleaming brilliantly. So that was it! Naturally the dragon wanted those precious gems for its collection.
"Hold, friend," a voice said. "I recognize one of those damsels. She's my sister's friend."
Mela looked, and saw that beyond the dragon was a large serpent with the head of a man. One of the naga folk. "You must be Naldo Naga, Nada's brother!" she said, relieved.
He looked at her. "That I am. But who are you, and what are you doing here in Draco's lair?"
"Draco?" Mela said, appalled. "Draco Dragon?"
"To be sure," Naldo said. "You expected some other dragon?"
"He killed my husband!" Mela cried. "And stole our firewater opal!"
The dragon looked abashed. Naldo looked at him, evidently understanding him, then spoke again. "But he returned it, and its mate, so that you now have a matchless set. It was his way of apologizing for the incident. He recognized the set instantly, but has not before met you."
Mela's feelings were mixed. "It is true that Draco returned double, but I would never have been in difficulty if that same dragon hadn't rudely toasted my husband. I would not at this moment be in search of a new husband, having to go on land and wear these tiresome legs." She lifted her plastered skirt to show her legs, being careful not to raise it quite far enough to show her wet panty. There was no need to be an even worse sight than she already was.
"You came to a dragon's lair looking for a husband?" Naldo inquired with a droll lift of a brow.
"No. Not exactly. The three of us had Questions for the Good Magician, and he wouldn't answer, and he sent us to see your sister, Nada, instead, and she sent us to you. A demon conjured us here. I assure you, Draco Dragon was the last creature
I ever wanted to see, and being dunked in his foul freshwater puddle was the last thing I wanted to do."
"My sister sent you to me? Then I must try to be a better host." Naldo's head turned to the dragon. "Draco, do you have any human-style clothing in your collection? Maybe left over from a meal? In her size?"
The dragon squinted, studying Mela's soaked torso. He disappeared, then reappeared with several items dangling from his toothy mouth. Naldo took them. "Yes, here is some underclothing. Not ideal, but it will do until your regular clothing can be cleaned and dried. Here, I will toss it down, and you can retreat to a private crevice to change. Then we can talk, for it may be that we do have a dialogue coming."
Okra extended a hand and caught the items as he dropped them. She brought them to Mela. They were a furry green brassiere, a silky white slip, and a pair of light slippers.
Mela took them to a private spot, got out of her clothing, dried, delved in her purse for a spare plaid panty, and donned the new clothing. The bra was odd but sufficient, even for her structure. The slip was so slick it seemed to want to slide right off her body, but it stayed once she was all the way in it. The slippers were similarly slippery. "Just what kind of articles are these?" she called.
Naldo consulted with the dragon. "An algae bra, a Freudian slip, and Freudian slippers. Draco says they came from an unusual but sexy woman with erotic taste."
Mela had never heard of such clothing. But it was the best that offered at the moment, so she didn't complain. It would do for the nonce. Certainly it was better than having the dragon discover what her taste was.
Then the dragon let down his tail, and one by one they got on it and were hauled up to the nest. It was beautiful; it scintillated with all manner of known and unknown gemstones. Mela had to admit that the dragon had taste.
"I see that you like Draco's display," Naldo said.
"It's the loveliest thing I've seen in my life, next to the deep sea itself," she breathed.
The dragon snorted. "Draco says that you are the loveliest thing he has seen, next to the boiling lava of a fresh volcano."
The Color of Her Panties Page 23