Currant Events (2 page)

 “That would be great,” Handy
said.

 “I believe you should identify
your hands. The right one can be called Dexter, and the wrong one can be called
Sinister. Put labels on them so that all who encounter you will know them well
enough to be able to avoid mischief.”

 “That sounds great,” he said.
“Forewarned is foreordained.”

 “Forearmed,” she said.

 “Whatever.” He fetched some
sticky labels and a pen. But when his right hand tried to write on them, his
wrong hand jerked the paper out from under the pen.

 “Let me see if I can do
that,” Clio said, smiling. She took pen and paper and neatly printed
DEXTER and SINISTER. “Now hold out your hands.”

 Handy's right hand cooperated, and she
fastened its label to the back of it. But the wrong hand jerked away, raising a
middle finger. A cloudlet of smoke formed around it, suggesting that this was
not a nice gesture. It didn't want to be labeled.

 She tried to catch it, but it dodged
aside, avoiding her. Then she had a naughty idea. She stood straight, half
turning away. “Very well, if I can't label you, I will go elsewhere.”

 The wrong hand couldn't resist. It
dived in for another goose. But as it touched her skirt, she slapped the label
against it. Now the hand was marked despite itself.

 “You got it!” Handy
exclaimed.

 “Well, I should hope to be able to
outsmart a mere hand.” She was privately pleased despite the embarrassing
touch. She had, as it were, gotten to the bottom of the problem.

 The hand was so ashamed of being
tricked that it hid behind the man's back. That allowed the right hand to reach
up and unsnarl the lines, and the drawbridge dropped to its proper landing. She
had navigated the first Challenge.

 At the far end of the bridge was a gate
with an oddly folded turnstile. In fact it was shaped like the letter W. Clio
paused to examine it. If this was a Challenge, its operation was obscure. It
was mounted on a post that allowed it to rotate, so that it should be possible
to step into one of the indents and circle through to the other side. What was
supposed to be so difficult about that? She was not a suspicious woman, but she
distrusted this.

 Still, there seemed to be no other way
to proceed. She stepped into it, put her hand on an end, and pushed. It turned,
briefly enclosing her as she passed through the gate, then releasing her on the
other side. No problem at all.

 She turned to glance back-and saw
another woman right behind her. She looked rather familiar. In fact she looked
exactly like Clio herself in the mirror. Where had she come from? She had not
been on the bridge.

 “Get out of my way, witch,”
the woman snapped.

 Clio stepped out of her way, affronted.
“Who, if I may be so bold as to ask, are you?”

 “Who do you think I am, idiot? I'm
your double, Oile.”

 “My double! How can that be?”

 “Didn't you just pass through the
Double-You? What did you think it was going to do, cut you in half? Have you no
wit at all?”

 There was something about this woman
that annoyed Clio, but she restrained her temper lest there be some
misunderstanding. “The Double-You? It doubles you?”

 “What else, dullard? Why'd you go
through it if you didn't want to be doubled?”

 This was evidently another Challenge.
How was she supposed to deal with this abrasive copy of herself? Now she
realized that the woman's name was her own name, backward. And the woman's
character was the opposite of her own, in the ways that showed so far. Clio
tried always to be polite, moderate, and helpful, while this creature was
unpleasant, aggressive, and sarcastic. Still, maybe she was merely on edge
because she had suddenly been created. It was best to give her every reasonable
chance.

 “What is your purpose here?”
Clio asked.

 “You need to ask, stupid? You've
overstayed your visa. I'll be taking over now.”

 This set Clio back again. “You'll
be what?”

 Oilc favored her with a withering
stare. “I'd better put you out of your misery.” She looked around,
and saw a stick of wood lying on the ground nearby. She picked it up and
advanced on Clio threateningly, brandishing her improvised club.

 Clio stepped back. “What in Xanth
are you doing?”

 Oilc swung the club at her head. Clio
ducked aside just in time. Should she use her talent? No, it was probably
blocked here, and if not, the other woman might have the same talent, which
would greatly complicate things. So she ran to the side and fetched a stick of
her own.

 Oilc came at her again, swinging. Clio
managed to block the blow with her stick, but it was a physical as well as an
emotional shock. How could she be engaging in physical combat? That was not her
style at all!

 “I really don't understand,”
she said as she retreated. “Why are you attacking me?”

 “You really don't get it, do you,
moron,” Oilc said as she swung again. “There can't be two of us;
people would notice. So one of us has to go. So I'll just eliminate you, and
then your life is mine. No one will know the difference, and I'll be able to do
whatever I want.”

 “But you have no positive
agenda,” Clio protested as she awkwardly fended off the attack. “You
would quickly make enemies, and leave my reputation in ruins.”

 “More fun,” Oilc agreed, this
time aiming for the knees.

 “Who would write the Histories of
Xanth?” Clio asked, jerking her knees back.

 “Who needs to? They're dull,
boring, repetitive, and uninteresting, with egregious puns.”

 That generated some ire. “Who
makes any such claim?”

 “The critics, jerk. Who
else?”

 “Nobody else,” Clio said with
some asperity.

 “Anyway, I won't bother writing
anything. It'll be a lot more fun to go around messing people up. They deserve
it.”

 Clio realized that she really had to do
something about this double. But how could she get rid of the woman without
being unconscionably violent? That just wasn't her nature. Which, it seemed,
was why it was Oilc's nature, she being opposite in everything but
appearance.

 Now Clio was backed up against the bank
of the moat. One more step and she would fall in, and she rather suspected that
this would represent a failure to navigate the Challenge. Whatever was she to
do?

 Oilc swung again, trying to knock her
into the moat. Clio tried to avoid her, but lost her balance and started to
fall. She flung her arms out, losing her stick, and happened to catch Oilc by
the arm. She hauled on it, trying to recover her balance.

 “Let go, imbecile!” Oilc
snapped. “I don't even want to touch you, you emotional jellyfish.”

 Then Clio got a wild idea. She flung
both arms around Oilc and hugged her close. “You're my other half,”
she said. “I love you and want you with me always!”

 “Stop it, you mealymouthed
disaster!” Oilc cried. “I want no part of you!”

 But Clio clung close. She brought her
face to the other face and kissed it.

 Oilc screamed in sheer anguish. Then
suddenly she was gone. Clio was left standing holding nothing, shaking with
reaction.

 She had done it. She had solved the
riddle. She had realized that the only way to be rid of the ugly facet of
herself was not to fight it but to take it back into herself and suppress it
with her conscience. In this manner she had destroyed Oilc before Oilc
destroyed her. She hoped she would never have to go through anything like that
again.

 She brushed herself off and walked
through the main portal into the castle. The entry wasn't straight; it made a
right angle turn to the right, then to the left. The wall to the right was
carved in the shape of a huge human face.

 As she stood there, a panel slid across
the passage she had just passed through. She was blocked in; she could not
retreat. Well, she hadn't intended to go back that way anyway; her business was
forward into the castle.

 She looked down the left side passage.
It led to a ramp that rose to about head height, then evidently descended
beyond. The ceiling rose accordingly, so there was room to walk up and over the
ramp to reach whatever was on the other side. It was an odd layout, but maybe
there was something beneath that couldn't be moved or altered, so the passage
simply had to go over it. Just about anything was possible, here in the Good
Magician's castle.

 Could this be the next Challenge? The
fact that she was closed in here suggested that it was. She had solved one
man's problem of wrong-handedness, and abated her doubled alternate self, so
this must be some other type of endeavor. Like the drawbridge and the W turnstile,
it looked innocuous and probably wasn't.

 She would find out. She marched down
the hall and started up the ramp. It was steep but not too steep; she could
handle it for this short distance.

 Suddenly she felt heavy. Very heavy.
Something was weighing her down horribly. It wasn't her imagination; her feet
were pressing into the ramp and sliding down it as if shoved by a giant hand.
She barely kept her footing as she landed back on the flat portion of the
floor.

 The weight left her. It must have been
magic, because there was no evidence of any natural force. This did seem to be
the Challenge: to mount to the top of the ramp, when it made her so heavy that
she got pushed back down.

 She tried it again, bracing herself
against the extra weight. And ran right up the ramp as if she were
featherlight. In fact her feet left the surface and she floated, drifting back,
unable to gain any purchase to push her forward.

 Now this was interesting, in an
annoying sort of way. The first time she had grown heavy; the second time,
light. Both balked her; what she needed was a compromise, her normal weight.
How could she keep that?

 She tried again, treading carefully up
the slope. The heaviness came, increasing until she was unable to drag herself
up farther, and had to let herself slide back down. She tried a fourth time
immediately, moving slowly, and the higher she went, the lighter she became,
until she could no longer maintain contact with the ramp, and drifted back in
the slight wash of air coming from its far end.

 Well, she had defined the problem. It
alternated between heavy and light, and neither suited her purpose. It seemed
simple, yet she had no idea how to handle it. Obviously she had to get
an idea, or she would be stuck here indefinitely.

 She walked back down the passage. The
huge carved face was still there, gazing at her. The enormous eyes blinked.

 Blinked? The face was alive!

 “Now I recognize you,” she
informed it. “You're a sphinx, serving your year of Service.”

 “Congratulations, Muse,” the
sphinx replied. “You have solved the first riddle. Do you care for the
second?”

 “Does it relate to my
Challenge?”

 “No, it is merely a diversion to
entertain you while you remain balked.”

 “I already know what walks on four
legs, then two legs, then three legs,” she said with some asperity. She
was good at asperity. “A woman, when she's a baby, grown, and old with a
cane.”

 “Unfortunate. I trust you will
forgive me if I don't throw myself off a cliff and perish.”

 “Considering that there's no cliff
here, I seem to have no choice but to forgive you.”

 The sphinx smiled. “So good to
encounter a trace of humor. I haven't had a good laugh in centuries.”

 “Neither have I,” she agreed.
“Shall we exchange introductions? I am Clio, the Muse of History.”

 “I am Gravis the Sphinx.”

 “Gravis. Would that have something
to do with gravity?”

 “It would.”

 “In fact, that would be your magic
talent: to increase or decrease gravity in a region. That is what is balking my
passage.”

 “Congratulations. You have solved
another riddle.”

 “I am curious: how far does your
ability extend? Could it bring a flying bird down from the sky, or raise a fish
from the sea, should they happen to traverse the region you affected?”

 “It could. In fact I used to make
sport of passing birds and fish who did not understand why they could not fly
or swim past a given region.”

 “It is certainly a significant
talent.”

 One eye squinted. “You would not
by any chance be seeking to flatter me into allowing you to pass?”

 “I would not have the temerity to
attempt any such thing.” She was not good at temerity.

 “That is fortunate, because it
would only annoy me.”

 “I surely would not want to do
anything like that.”

 “That is good to know.”

 They understood each other. She had of
course been trying to flatter him, and he had rebuked her for it.

 That left the original problem: how to
get past the ramp while the sphinx guarded it. She had no magic to oppose his;
she saw no way to counter the unbearable heaviness or lightness of being.