The Color of Her Panties

by Piers Anthony

  "I found it!" Okra cried. "It's an invisible path!"

  "Wonderful!" Ida exclaimed.

  "Then how did you find it?" Mela asked more critically.

  "I sniffed it out. See, here it is." Okra gestured to an impenetrable thicket of brambles.

  Mela was trying not to be unduly negative, but was having a problem. "That doesn't look like a very good path."

  "That's because you can't see it. Watch me." Okra stepped forward and disappeared in the brambles.

  "Wait, you'll get all scratched!" Mela protested.

  "No I won't," the ogress replied. "The brambles are illusion. The real brambles don't grow here because they think this space is already filled. That's what makes this such a good path: no one uses it, because no one can see it. The Maenads probably don't want to get scratched either. It probably goes right to the top of the mountain."

  Mela poked a cautious finger at the mass of brambles. It encountered nothing. She put a foot in. Nothing. It really was illu-sion—which meant it was also a serviceable path. If it continued far enough.

  Meanwhile Okra was forging ahead, ogre fashion. So Mela nerved herself and followed. Ida came last, smiling. She had been so sure there would be a path, and lo, there was. Mela feared that Ida's optimism would inevitably be disabused, but she didn't want to be the one to do it. Folk tended not to be as nice, after disabusement.

  Okra followed her nose, and found the curves and twists of the path. Anyone without such a keen sense of smell would surely quickly go astray and wind up amidst real brambles. But the invisible path was kempt, not unkempt, with no blockages or gaps. Who had made it, and who used it?

  When they were perhaps a third of the way up the mountain, they heard a scream. There was one of the fierce wild women! The Maenad stood on an intersecting path, and had spied them. She was as naked as a nymph, and proportioned like a nymph, but her pretty face was distorted into a grimace of hate. Her hair extended in a stormy cloud around her head. Her scream was not because of any horror, but was to alert her companions. In a moment the whole motley crew would be in pursuit.

  "Run!" Mela cried. She hoped the Maenads would not discover the invisible path.

  Okra ran, and the other two followed as closely as they could. The Maenads charged for them, but did not take the invisible path; instead they cut straight across, through the brambles. In a moment they were howling with pain as well as rage, for they were getting sorely scratched. It seemed that, much as they delighted in scratching others, they did not like being on the receiving end. Mela realized that if she thought about it, she might remember others with similar attitudes. So she didn't think about it.

  It was working! The wild women did not know of the path, and it seemed that their sense of smell was not as acute as that of the ogress, so they couldn't sniff it out. So they thought that brambles were the only way. They were fighting through them, but losing ground.

  Soon the Maenads were out of sight behind. But the three moved on quickly, despite panting with the effort, to be sure that they were truly clear of the threat.

  Mela seemed to remember that snakes had acute senses of smell. If the Python happened by...

  But their luck held, and no monster snake appeared. They slowed to a walk, and continued up the slope of the mountain. They seemed to have had a bit of the luck normally reserved for major characters, as if the script had slipped.

  Finally they came to what seemed to be the end of the path. It ended in a blank stone cliff. The cliff seemed to extend indefinitely to either side; probably it circled the mountain, so that they could not go around it. They had to find a way up it.

  "Maybe Okra could bash some steps out of the stone," Ida suggested.

  Mela started to protest that that was impossible, but remembered that male ogres could bash stone. Okra was a far cry from a male ogre, but she had been able to nullify the dragon's breath on the Iron Mountain, so maybe it was possible. "Maybe she can," she agreed.

  Okra made a fist and pounded the stone, tentatively. A chip of stone flaked out. She hit the stone again, harder, and a larger flake was loosened. "I can do it!" she said, surprised.

  "Maybe you just never tried it before," Ida said.

  "Maybe. I thought stone would hurt my hands. I'm really not much, as ogres go."

  "You're enough for us," Ida said warmly. "Maybe you just never knew your own strength."

  "Maybe that's right," Okra agreed, staring at the damage she had done to the face of the cliff.

  Then she got serious. She used both fists, and bashed them alternately at the rock, and fragments fairly flew out. She was doing it!

  In due course Okra had made a crude stone stairway, set in the rock like a relief carving. She even made stone handholds so they could climb the stairs without the danger of falling off. Mela had never really appreciated ogres before, but she was acquiring a taste for this one.

  They wended their way up the stairs, and reached the upper level of the mountain. This was a slope leading directly to the gigantic tree at the top. They were in sight of the Tree of Seeds!

  They approached it cautiously. They saw the tremendous bird sitting on a branch. The rays of the late afternoon sun refracted from her feathers iridescently. Then the bird turned, spying them. Mela was suddenly in a state midway between overwhelming nervousness and moderate terror.

  AND WHO ARE YOU, WHO CLIMB MY MOUNTAIN UNINVITED? the Simurgh's powerful thought came.

  "We—we are three maidens in distress," Mela said.

  The great head turned, and a piercing eye fixed on them. YOU ARE NO MAIDEN, MELA MERWOMAN. YOU HAVE BEEN MARRIED AND WIDOWED.

  "I—I meant two maidens and a woman," Mela said falteringly. "We have come to tell you something important."

  I HAVE SEEN THE UNIVERSE DIE AND BE REBORN THREE TIMES, the Simurgh thought. WHAT DO YOU THINK COULD BE IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO WARRANT MY ATTENTION?

  "Maybe nothing," Mela confessed. "But Naldo Naga sent us to you, to tell you—" She hesitated, fearing another overwhelming thought, but the Simurgh waited. "To tell you that Roxanne is about to—to eat Che Centaur." There: she had gotten it out, somehow.

  WHAT? The thought was so strong it almost blew the three of them off the mountain. But Mela tried again.

  "Roxanne is—"

  I HEARD YOU, BRAVE CREATURE. I MUST CERTAINLY SET THIS RIGHT. BUT FIRST LET ME LEARN MORE ABOUT YOU. HOW CAME YOU TO BRING THIS MESSAGE TO ME?

  "The three of us went to the Good Magician Humfrey with our Questions, but instead of giving us Answers he sent us to Nada Naga, who sent us to her brother, Naldo Naga, who told us he would grant us our desires if we took this message to you. So—"

  HOW DID NALDO NAGA KNOW ABOUT ROXANNE?

  "His friend Draco Dragon had it from the winged monsters. But they aren't allowed to fly here, or to interfere with your designs, so—"

  JUST SO. WHAT WAS YOUR QUESTION FOR THE GOOD MAGICIAN?

  "How can I get a good husband? All I want is the handsomest, nicest, smartest prince—"

  TO BE SURE. THE ONE YOU MARRY WILL ALSO HAVE A CERTAIN SENSE OF HUMOR.

  Mela frowned. "I suppose I can live with that, if he has the other qualifications." Mela was developing a slow thrill, realizing that there really was a husband for her. She had begun to doubt.

  HE DOES. NOW LET ME ACQUAINT MYSELF WITH YOUR COMPANIONS, WHO ARE NEW TO ME. The huge bird aimed her eye at Ida. Mela saw the Simurgh blink, almost as if startled. What could account for that? Ida was a nice but ordinary young woman, pleasant company but without any evident magic. What could there possibly be about her to surprise the wisest creature of Xanth? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR QUEST IS?

  Ida made the effort to speak. "I—I—I think I am Ida. I was raised among the otterbees. I came to seek my destiny. I don't know what that is, but I hope it's nice."

  IT IS AS NICE AS ANY DESTINY POSSIBLE IN XANTH. BUT IT MUST WAIT ITS TURN, FOR YOU HAVE THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH FIRST.

  "I do? What are they?
"

  IT WOULD BE COUNTERPRODUCTIVE TO TELL YOU AT THIS POINT, INNOCENT DAMSEL.

  "That's what the Good Magician said!" Ida said, sounding frustrated. "And Grossclout Demon. Naldo Naga claims to know something, but wouldn't tell us right away. Isn't this sexist or something?"

  OR SOMETHING, the Simurgh agreed with a wry curve of her beak. BUT NECESSARY. Her eye moved to fix on the ogress. AND YOU?

  Okra looked up at the bird. "I am Okra Ogress. My quest is to get rid of Jenny Elf, so I can become a main character."

  AND INSTEAD YOU MUST SAVE HER. THAT MAY SEEM LIKE IRONY.

  "That seems like nonsense," Okra said. Mela was alarmed, fearing that the ogre girl would bring destruction on her head, but the Simurgh seemed not to take offense.

  NEVERTHELESS, THIS IS YOUR COURSE, UNLESS YOU DEFAULT. NOW I SHALL SEED YOU. STEP CLOSE, OKRA.

  The ogress stepped closer to the Simurgh. "I don't understand."

  NATURALLY NOT. MUCH OF WHAT I DO, I DO THROUGH SEEDS. FIRST I SEED YOU. The Simurgh turned to pull a scintillating feather from her wing. She held this in her beak and brought it down to tap Okra's head. Mela could not see anything happen, and could not fathom the significance of this action.

  NOW I GIVE YOU TWO SEEDS. ONE IS TO GIVE TO ROXANNE. HOLD OUT YOUR HAND. The bird jumped slightly, causing the tree to shake, and a single round seed fell down to land in the ogress's outstretched hand. THIS IS A SEED OF THYME. ROXANNE WILL UNDERSTAND ITS USE. NOW HOLD OUT YOUR OTHER HAND.

  Okra obediently held out her other hand. The Simurgh shook the tree again, and a cylindrical seed fell into it. THIS IS A ROC-KET SEED, WHICH WILL ENABLE YOU TO TRAVEL THERE WITH YOUR FRIENDS. STEP INTO IT AND GO THERE NOW.

  "But—" Okra started, confused.

  Then Mela saw that the second seed was growing. It expanded until it was too large for the ogress's hand. She had to set its flattened end on the ground, but its pointed end kept growing. It was assuming the form of a cylinder, with a sturdy central section. It was translucent, so that they could see that it was hollow: a cylindrical chamber. Soon it was large enough to hold all three of them, and it had a panel/door in the side.

  So the three of them slid open the panel and got into the seed. It was crowded, but they did fit. The panel slid closed behind them. The seed had become a prison! But before Mela could work up a decent fright, the thing exploded.

  CHAPTER 14.

  Roxanne

  Gwendolyn Goblin stared up at the giant bird. They had walked right into a trap and were locked into the Nameless Castle with a righteously angry roc. Whatever were they to do now?

  "Scatter!" Che cried. "It can't catch us all!"

  Good strategy! Gwenny ran in one direction, and Jenny Elf in another. Che himself leaped straight up, flicked himself with his tail, and flew farther up. But Gwenny saw that all three of them still sparkled slightly with the radiance of the egg; they could not hide from the roc, because that sparkle called attention to them. Even if they had been able to flee into a crowd, the bird would have been able to pick them out.

  The roc oriented on Che first. Gwenny stood by the ramp and watched, helpless and horrified, and the terrible bird stalked him. The roc was so big that it did not need to fly; indeed, there was little room here in the castle chamber for that. It merely walked, stalking the tiny figure.

  It? This was surely a female bird, because she was egg-sitting. They had thought her to be a statue; now they knew that she had merely seemed that way, and that their touch of the egg had instantly awakened her. This was an enraged mother bird.

  Che couldn't fly out of the castle, because it was now sealed. He couldn't hide in the small halls and chambers, because these were now shut off. All he could do was try to dodge and elude the huge awful beak of the roc.

  "But you're a winged monster!" Jenny cried from the other side of the chamber. "All the winged monsters are sworn to protect Che from harm!"

  She was right. But Gwenny saw with dismay that the roc was taking no notice. Evidently she had not gotten the word. Maybe that made sense. She could have been sitting here for years, out of touch with recent events, so simply didn't know about the Simurgh's requirement. And if she did not understand human speech, they would be unable to make her realize that she wasn't supposed to eat the winged centaur. Maybe some other year she would learn, but that would be way too late.

  Then Gwenny had a desperate notion. Maybe she could distract the roc! She walked back toward the center of the chamber. She aimed her wand and concentrated on the lovely crystal egg. It rose and hovered above the stone nest. "Look, roc!" she cried. "I'm taking your egg!"

  The bird's head snapped around. The huge eye fixed on the floating egg. "Squawk!"

  So the monster did understand human speech well enough. "Don't move, or I'll drop it," Gwenny said.

  The roc took a step toward her. Gwenny shook the wand, and the egg bobbled dangerously. "It will shatter on that stone," Gwenny warned. "If you take another step, I'll do it. After all, it's my friend's life I'm fighting for."

  The bird considered. Rocs were not known for their imagination, as they were bigger than anyone's imagination, but now Gwenny saw a mental picture forming. It seemed that the bird was trying to get the picture straight so that she would know how to act, and at the moment the picture was somewhat tilted. In the center of that picture was the shining egg precariously balanced above the nest. To the side was Gwenny with her wand.

  In the picture, the roc launched at Gwenny, snapping her up and swallowing her in a trice. But the egg dropped on the hard place in another trice, and shattered into one thousand and one glittering fragments. The picture tilted worse and dissolved; that was definitely no good.

  The picture formed again, of floating egg and standing goblin girl. This time the roc launched at the egg, trying to catch it before it fell. That seemed more promising.

  "Oh, no, you don't, Rocky!" Gwenny cried, moving the wand so that the egg sailed away from the bird.

  The roc's picture tilted and dissolved. It was replaced by one of herself, somewhat fuzzy, as if something was interfering with her thought.

  "Her name's probably not Rocky," Jenny called. She was able to see the mental pictures too, because she had the other lens.

  "Rockhead?" Gwenny asked. The picture fuzzed worse. "Rock-hound? Rock-a-bye-baby? Rockfall? Rocking chair? Rock-'n'-roll?" The picture blurred into obscurity.

  "Try female names," Jenny suggested.

  "Rochelle?" The picture brightened. "Roxanne?" Suddenly the focus was perfect: that was the name.

  "You are able to communicate?" Che inquired. He had landed at a safe distance. "Then get her to talk about herself. Then maybe she'll forget about chasing us."

  Good idea! "Well, Roxanne," Gwenny said, "we didn't know you were alive. We thought you were part of an exhibit. We have to get the egg if I am to become chief of my tribe. It's nothing personal. It doesn't look like a real egg. Are you sure you couldn't let us have it for a day or two? Then we could bring it back."

  Roxanne's mental picture exploded into smithereens. One smither zoomed so close that Gwenny had to duck. It seemed that the egg was not available for a loan.

  "But the egg won't be much good to anyone if it shatters," Gwenny said. "And I'll drop it or loft it against a wall if I have to."

  The roc moved sideways, not approaching the egg, but also not retreating from it. Gwenny didn't drop it, because once it shattered, she would have no hostage against the rage of the bird. So they were at an impasse.

  "How did you come by this egg, since I don't think you laid it?" Gwenny inquired conversationally.

  That set off a new picture. Roxanne was flying across Xanth, covering an ordinary landbound creature's hour's travel with every wing beat. She was young and her feathers were bright. She saw a high mountain and flew to investigate it, having the curiosity of youth.

  "What are you seeing?" Che called.

  "A big, tall, two-peaked mountain," Gwenny called back. "With a temple at the
base and a giant tree growing on the summit."

  "But that's Mount Parnassus!" Che protested. "No one's allowed to fly there!"

  "And on the tree sits a bird the size of a roc," Gwenny continued, "with iridescent feathers. Roxanne is flying right toward that bird, thinking maybe it's another roc."

  "That's the Simurgh!" Che cried. "The oldest creature in Xanth! She has seen the world end and be recreated three times! She doesn't allow anything to fly in that vicinity!"

  Roxanne heard him speaking. Her head cocked toward him. Then she leaped. Che tried to take off, but couldn't get his wings properly set. He tried to gallop away, but the great talons of the roc's foot closed about his body.

  Gwenny and Jenny screamed together. Then Gwenny collected a few of her scattered wits. "Let him go!" she cried. "Or I'll drop the egg!" She wiggled the egg with the wand.

  Roxanne refused to be bluffed. Her mental picture showed the egg dropping—and right after that, the little winged centaur being squished into purple pulp.

  Gwenny didn't dare drop the egg while Che was all right. But she certainly would if the roc hurt him. So it was another impasse, but now Roxanne was in a better bargaining position than before.

  The big bird carried Che to a cage set high against a wall. She popped him in and slammed the door closed with her beak. Gwenny saw Che try the door, but it was securely locked; he could not get out. He was all right, but captive.

  Gwenny knew that if she shattered the egg, the roc would simply go back and squish Che, so the impasse remained. How was she going to get him free?

  She decided to try the dialogue again. Maybe she would learn something that the roc wanted more than the three of them to eat. "Roxanne, what happened after you encountered the Simurgh?" she asked.

  The roc came to stand at the same distance from the egg as before. However, Gwenny took the precaution of lofting it so that it hovered above the rim of the stone nest. If it dropped there it would certainly shatter, with half of it falling outside the nest. She wouldn't have to guide it at all; if she simply dropped the wand, the egg was doomed. It was evident that Roxanne understood. It was dangerous to go after Gwenny herself.