Pet Peeve (16 page)

“These are slow-growing plants, so we might as well rest while waiting,” Eve said.

“Makes sense to me,” Hannah said as a root wrestled past their feet. “Just what kind of trees are they?”

“Well, one's a steelwood that should be too tough for the iron robots to tackle. The other's a tangle tree.”

“A tangler! Here in our cage?”

“But there's one thing: they are spelled not to harm me, but the rest of you lack that protection.”

“Now she tells us!” the bird said irately.

“Not to worry, cutebeak. I'll protect you.”

“Just for incidental information,” Hannah said, “how do you mean to do that?”

“I'll put my arms around you, and they'll leave us all alone. But we must stay together, or there could be mischief.”

“Such as us getting eaten by the tangle tree,” Goody said uneasily.

“True,” she said. “We had better get together before it gets big enough to feed.”

They got together, arranging themselves for maximum coverage. Hannah sat leaning back against the trunk of the centrally growing steelwood tree, and Goody sat on her lap facing away, the bird on his shoulder. This put his head against her metal halter, which was comfortable, as the halter was flexible. Then Eve sat before them, her legs half around their thighs, and leaned in to hug them with her arms. This put her bosom almost into Goody's face. He would have freaked out, had he been able to see anything. “This should do it,” she said. “The tendrils will encounter my limbs and move away.”

What could he do? Shielded by both their soft bodies, he drifted off to a rather pleasant sleep. Even the irascible bird, similarly pressed, made no complaint.

He woke as Eve stirred. “Time to break out,” she said. “All we have to do is climb the trunk of the steelwood tree; it has penetrated the roof of the cage.”

Eve lifted herself up and caught hold of the lower branches of the steelwood. She climbed. When she was clear, Goody followed, and finally Hannah.

Sure enough, the top of the cage had burst asunder, and they were able to step out onto the twisted remnant of its framework. But next to the steelwood was the tangle tree; Goody felt its tentacles quivering as they sensed his approach. “The tangler—”

“That's to catch the pieces of the cage as they come loose, and set them down silently,” Eve explained. “And to distract the robots, if necessary.”

“But won't it grab us?”

“I'll have to hold you.” She felt for him in the dark, picked him up, and held him close. “Okay, Tangier,” she said.

Tentacles wrapped around them and heaved them both up. Then they were swinging around and down, and deposited on the ground. “Wait here while I fetch Hannah,” she said as she set him down.

He waited, highly conscious of the surrounding tentacles. They could so readily wrap around him and carry him into the deadly trunk! He did not dare move anything.

“Aw, I dare you, greenie!” the parody said.

Oh, no! The bird was taunting the tree!

Then Eve and Hannah dropped down beside him. “Naughty birdy,” Eve said, laughing.

They made their way quietly from the cage trees to the regular forest that surrounded the stumps of the iron woods. They heard the continuous noises from the robot loggers not far distant. Only when they were safely within it did they pause to get some light. Hannah had some fireweed bulbs in her pack; she brought one out, and used its flame to illuminate their way.

There was a commotion back at the cage. “I think they have discovered our absence,” Hannah said.

“And the tangle tree has discovered them,” Eve said.

“Will they search for us?” Goody asked, worried.

“They may try,” Eve said. “I just dropped a magnet tree seed.”

“And that will—?” Hannah asked.

“Attract and hold any iron in the vicinity. Strongly.”

“So they won't be coming this way soon.”

“Not soon,” Eve agreed. “We can rest until dawn in a couple of hours.”

“Then hurry back to Castle Roogna,” Goody said.

“Not yet,” Eve said. “We haven't seen the factory.”

Goody and Hannah tried to exchange a glance, but couldn't make the connection in the darkness. This teen was serious about the mission.

They settled down and slept until dawn. They had no concern about dangerous beasts; the robots had driven most wildlife away with their constant activity.

In the morning they organized and resumed their walk. They made a wide detour around the ironwood forest, which continued to resound with the sounds of its ongoing destruction.

Just south of the field of stumps they spied it: a mass of pipes, wires, and moving blocks. There was a huge fire, evidently used to heat cauldrons of iron during the night when no sunlight was available to be concentrated. “Now we know what else they're doing with the regular wood,” Hannah said grimly. “Nothing is safe from them.”

“Now we know,” Goody echoed. “It just gets worse and worse.”

“And it's all your fault, dumbbells!”

“We were fools,” Hannah agreed with half a sigh.

“I don't know how you could have anticipated anything like this,” Eve said. “There's been nothing in Xanth like it before. Anyone would have been deceived.”

“You know, princess,” Hannah said, “I could almost get to like you, if I tried.”

“Too bad you're not a handsome prince who's not too fussy about age.”

They laughed. Then they set about making their way back to Castle Roogna. Rather than circle the iron forest again, they cut west to intersect an enchanted path. They had to spend a third night on the road, but it was comfortable, and no more seeds needed to be planted.

Here there was nothing more dangerous than a wanna bee, which was really a fly that tried to look and buzz like a bee. They ate and washed up, reasonably well coordinated, and the princess managed not to flash anything in Goody's direction. She had indeed learned her lesson.

Then, as they were ready to retire for the night, one more traveler appeared. This was a flying centaur filly. “Oh, hello,” she said as she landed. “I thought this camp was unoccupied.”

“Welcome to join us,” Hannah said, and introduced the others. They learned that the latest arrival was Cynthia Centaur. She was magnificently breasted, as all grown centaur fillies were. Goody struggled to avoid staring.

“A flying horse-rear!”

“The bird!” Goody, Hannah, and Eve said almost together.

“Get a load of those bare boobs!”

“It's a pet peeve who spent time in Hell,” Goody said. “It is always in a foul temper, and insults everybody in range. I'm trying to find a good home for it.”

“I can appreciate that your work is cut out for you,” Cynthia said.

“My job is to protect him from the mischief the bird invokes,” Hannah said.

The centaur turned to Eve. “And you're really a princess?”

“On a special mission,” Eve said, but did not clarify. That was the hint to the others to be silent about the robot menace, at least until they had reported to the king.

They learned that Cynthia was the mate of Che Centaur, having started life as a human girl longer ago than she cared to say. But she had taken youth elixir to reduce her age to match Che's age. “There was an interesting complication,” she said. “It relates to the way I fly.”

“You look like a big clumsy crow!”

Cynthia smiled tolerantly. “Thank you for that insight, peeve. And I'm sure you fly like a crippled harpy.”

Goody stifled a chortle. She had scored more accurately than she might have realized.

“I didn't know you had any problem flying,” Eve said. “All winged centaurs have lightening magic in their tails, so they can flick bugs to make them too light to land, and themselves to become light enough to float and fly.”

“That's the thing,” Cynthia said. “I am not a natural flying creature; I was transformed back when Magician Trent, the transformer, was young, and he didn't get me quite right. I may even have been the first winged centaur; I don't know. At first I was ashamed of my form, and hid in the Brain Coral's pool for some time. But eventually I accommodated to my condition, and to the clotheless custom of the centaurs. So I flew by the sheer power of my wings, sending down quite a draft. Other centaurs had the lightening magic, and it was easier for them. But now I have it too. The mystery is how.”

“You don't, you faker!”

Cynthia's tail flicked out and barely touched the bird. The parody sailed up into the air, squawking. “Hey, I'm too light to perch!”

“Fortunately it wears off after a while,” Cynthia said. Her tone, in a less generous creature, might have sounded smug. “I didn't know I had it, until one day I flicked at a fly to scare it away, and my tail touched my own flank. Suddenly I felt light. I realized I had the power—yet I was sure I had not had it at the outset. What could explain this?”

“The three little brats—I mean, princesses—might have enchanted you,” Eve said. “They can do just about any kind of magic, if they get together and sing and play it.”

“No, when I thought about it, I realized there had been signs of it dating from back before they were delivered. I had the power and didn't know it. But how? Then finally a bulb flashed over my head—” She paused, smiling. “Did you know that when Queen Irene gets an idea, the bulb over her head is a plant bulb?”

“Dawn and I tease Grandma about that,” Eve said, sharing the smile.

“Anyway, I remembered that at one point Magician Trent re-transformed me into a roc, so I could carry him up out of a deep cave, and later restored me.” She paused, smiling reminiscently. “Gloha Goblin-Harpy and I were traveling with him, and we both had crushes on him. What a man! He made a filly of me. But of course he was married.”

“To Great-Grandma Iris,” Eve said. “You mean you and he—?”

“I confess Gloha and I were tempted. But he was older and more sensible than we, and nothing came of it except perhaps for some kissing.”

“He kissed you?” Eve was showing the kind of shock she had not shown when she kissed Goody. Apparently it depended on perspective.

“No, we kissed him. Together, when he was frozen stiff by a snow dragon. That's a variety of steamer that lives in cold regions. We had to thaw him somehow, before it became permanent. So we hugged and kissed him, giving him the warmth of our bodies, and managed to bring him out of it. But that's beside the point. He transformed me, and when he restored me, he must have made me a regular kind of winged centaur without realizing that it wasn't quite the same. So after that I had the lightening magic.”

“Fascinating,” Eve said. “You smooched Great-Grandpa Trent!”

“You should have seen Eve smooching Goody,” the parody said. “He barely recovered in time to see the robots.”

“The whats?”

“Self-willed machines, appliances, gizmos, contraptions, motors—”

“Automatons?”

“Whatever,” the bird agreed crossly.

Cynthia glanced at the others. “You saw automatons?”

The parody had given it away. “We are on an investigative mission for the king,” Goody said. “There seems to be an invasion of robots. We're not sure how to stop them.”

“This is something Che needs to know about.”

“We were hoping to keep it quiet until the king decides what to do.”

“Very well. We'll keep it quiet until we check with the king. Any kind of invasion is a serious matter.”

They settled down for the night. Then Cynthia remembered something. “You kissed Goody Goblin, Eve? You are not, as I recall, yet of age.”

“Oh come on!” the girl protested. “The Adult Conspiracy doesn't stop us from kissing.”

“But Goody is a middle-aged adult male not of your family. He should know better.”

“He does,” Hannah said. “She caught him by surprise, demonstrating a gourd apology.”

“Oho! That explains a lot. Still—”

“I won't do it again.”

“Precisely.” Then the dialogue lapsed.

In the morning the centaur flew on her way, and the others walked on theirs. Soon they saw the turrets of Castle Roogna.

What would King Dor think of their report? It would surely be much worse than he had anticipated.

King Dor nodded. “So now they have a better supply of iron, and are larger. They represent a greater threat than before.”

“That's it, Granddad,” Eve agreed. “That iron wood forest is a mess. At least they'll run out of it soon enough. Maybe that will stop them.”

“I doubt it,” the king said. “They will merely search for more iron, as they were doing near Castle Zombie.”

“But will they find it?” Eve asked.

“The methodical way they are searching, it will not be long before they find Iron Mountain.”

Goody had heard of that. An entire mountain made of iron. That would provide all the robots would ever need to conquer the rest of Xanth. “We'll have to stop them from reaching it,” Goody said.

“Exactly,” the king agreed. “I have summoned the human representatives of Xanth, but this is likely to be more than humans can handle alone. We shall need the assistance of the others.”

“The others?” Hannah asked.

“The centaurs. The dragons. The elves. The harpies, goblins, demons, ogres, zombies, crossbreeds, and others. Those who don't necessarily
answer to the authority of the pure humans. This is a threat to all of them, but it may not be easy to convince them of that until it's too late. We shall need to send persuasive emissaries.”

“I hope you have good ones,” Hannah said.

“We shall have to work with what we have. You, as a barbarian, can approach the barbarian humans.”

Hannah was taken aback. “Oh, Your Majesty, I can't! I left them in disgust when our village was pacified.”

The king turned to Goody. “And you, as a goblin—”

“I'm no good!” Goody protested. “Goblins won't listen to me. I'm exiled, because I'm too polite.”

“What a washout!” the parody said.

“And we have no representatives convenient for the other species,” the king said. “It seems we have a problem.”

“And we don't want to alarm folk by announcing the threat before we have a way to deal with it,” Eve said.

“But we may have a way to notify leaders and enlist help without making a commotion,” the king said. “Because you have a pretext to travel: trying to place the bird.”

Goody saw the way of it. “What do you want us to do?”

“To be my emissaries,” the king said seriously. “I will give you an official letter of introduction, and arrange transportation. That is as much as I can do, in this respect.”

“You could hardly have found less qualified people,” Hannah said.

“Less obvious people,” Eve said. “That's not the same.”

Queen Irene appeared at the doorway. “The centaurs are here.”

King Dor smiled. “Bring them in.”

Two winged centaurs entered, a male and a female. “Good to see you again, Che, Cynthia,” the king said.

“But we saw you just this morning!” Goody said, as if that made any difference.

“The king's message was awaiting my return,” Cynthia said. “We came immediately, of course.”

“But we hadn't even reported then,” Hannah said.

Eve smiled. “Grandpa knew we had a crisis. We merely confirmed it. The humans are already organizing. If we can just get the other species to join us.”

So it was that Goody and Hannah found themselves riding the two winged centaurs, after being flicked light, along with the peeve. And possessed a list of species to contact.

Goody and the parody were aboard Cynthia. “If I may comment,” Goody said carefully, “I am surprised you asked to have me ride you. I should have thought you would prefer to transport a woman.”

Her head turned to face him as she flew. The action caused the upper portion of her human torso to twist so that her left breast showed in splendid silhouette. “Now why should you think that, Goody?”

“Well, you're female, and—”

“So he can't gawk at your knockers,” the parody suggested.

Cynthia evinced half a smile. “That too, perhaps. It is true that I feared your eyeballs would suffer damage yesterday as you attempted to restrain them. But this is a reaction we centaurs have come to expect and discount among humanoid males. You have made every effort to be restrained and polite, an unusual trait among goblin males. In fact I might have suspected you of being a female in disguise, but for those eyes.”

“Thank you,” Goody said weakly. “I am the only polite goblin male extant. It has become my curse.”

“I sense that you are in need. This is why I wished to talk with you, and this flight seems to be a convenient time.”

“In need?” Goody asked, perplexed.

“In need of a vocabulary transplant,” the peeve said. “He can't even say bleep without a swearing spell.”

“I can say it,” Goody said. “But won't.”

“Do you care to tell me your romantic background? I suspect it has been difficult.”

What was the harm? He told her of his problem with goblin girls, and of his twenty-year marriage to Go-Go. “Now I am in grief for her,” he concluded. “I am trying to find other things to do, to distract me.”

“I had thought it would be something like that,” Cynthia said. “I believe you are ready to find another woman and settle down again.”

“Never!”

“Don't let your commitment to Go-Go interfere with reality. She is gone, and I'm sure she would want you to be happy again.”

She had scored. “She would. Yet—”

“Yet no other goblin woman is interested in a polite male. I appreciate the problem. I will keep an eye out; perhaps there is someone for you.”

“Ha ha,” the bird said.

“No one can match Go-Go.”

“I think it only seems that way. You are obviously aware of other females. I could tell yesterday by the way you studiously avoided looking at lovely young Princess Eve, and at Hannah Barbarian, who is a formidably mature woman.”

“You should see her shaking her cheesecake!”

“I have no need of that, peeve,” Cynthia said. “But the fact that you, Goody, notice female attributes means you are ready for some kind of association beyond that of convenience.”

“I—” But it was true. “I suppose I see in them aspects of Go-Go. I really hate being alone.”

“I understand completely. I faced a similar problem, before I got together with Che.” She paused, then tackled something else. “Che tutors Sim Bird, who needs to know everything, in due course. He's a very bright bird. That keeps Che busy finding out new things. Sometimes his researches lead to obscure bypaths. There was a story a couple decades back of a goblin chief's son who was banished from his hill. We wondered what it would take to make a goblin male unacceptable. Bad language or bad nature wouldn't seem to account for something like that.”

Centaur information was comprehensive! She was inquiring, indirectly. “But politeness would,” he said.

“So you are that goblin?”

“That banished chief's son,” he agreed heavily.

She flicked him with the tip of her tail to make him light again, lest they lose altitude. “I would think that there would be goblin girls who would be interested in any chief's son, even a polite one.”

“I think they would not be the type I would care to know.”

“Gold diggers!” the parody said.

“Opportunists,” she agreed. “Yet if there were one who was not that type, whose interest was sincere—”

He shook his head with resignation. “She would still have to match the standards of decency and niceness Go-Go set, or I couldn't love her. That makes it just about impossible.”

“Perhaps.” Then she was silent for a while.

A flying dragon came toward them. “Bogey at one o'clock!” the parody said as the dragon snorted a twin column of fire.

A bow appeared in Cynthia's hands, and she nocked an arrow. Undeterred, the dragon came on. That made Goody nervous. Dragon fire could toast them from a distance.

Cynthia drew the bowstring. The dragon inhaled, readying a deadly blast the moment it got within range. Goody's nervousness intensified. How could this filly score when flying, and wouldn't the arrow, even if on target, just bounce off the dragon's metallic scales?

Cynthia loosed the arrow. It flew into the midst of the starting flame. The dragon swerved, stung, and the flame cut off.

Then Goody saw the arrow sticking from the dragon's nose. That was one of the few soft spots. It was not a lethal strike, but it had to hurt.

“Some just have to learn the hard way,” Cynthia said as she put the bow away somewhere. “Normally they feint and retreat.”

“I'm sure this one will, next time,” Goody said, impressed. It had not been a long or hard shot, but it had been accurate, and that was what counted.

“You should've jammed it right down its throat!”

“There was no need, peeve.”

That surprised Goody again, as it implied, surely correctly, that she could have scored there. She had intended only to discourage the dragon, and teach it a lesson, not to kill it.

“How come?” the bird demanded.

“There has been a shortage of dragons recently. We don't want to take out any before their time. They perform necessary policing of untoward elements. Some merely require a bit of discipline.”

And she had disciplined the dragon. This soft-breasted filly who was so concerned about Goody's romantic life—there was more to her than Goody had realized. “I'm impressed,” he said frankly.

“SCP,” she said. “Standard centaur policy.”

So it seemed. But Goody remained impressed.

Goody snoozed as the flight continued, and so did the parody. He knew he should be marshaling effective arguments to present to the centaurs, but his mind seemed to have shut down for the day. He hoped it would reanimate when it had to.

And of course he dreamed of Go-Go Gobliness. In life she had been pretty but not outstanding, according to others, but to him she was beauty incarnate. No, there was not her like in all Xanth—and if there were, what would she want with him, a disgraced and banished male? So fleeting dreams were all he could have of fleeting happiness.

He woke as the centaur glided down to the sand of a beach. She landed running, cleverly maintaining her balance. She had allowed her weight to return so that firm contact with the ground was feasible.

“Better go to flight school, you amateur!” the parody complained as the shock of her hooves striking hard sand ran up through her body and Goody's, shaking the bird.

Che and Hannah were already down. “That was great!” she said. “I've never ridden in the sky before. And Che is the most intelligent male I've met.”

Probably true, Goody thought, because chances were that Che was the smartest of centaurs, and they were generally smarter than straight human folk. It was interesting that the barbarian woman appreciated intelligence in a male. Barbarian males were not noted for that quality, which surely complicated her romantic prospects.

“Hey, you didn't take us all the way,” the parody said. “Centaur Isle's across the sea, hoofheads.”

Che smiled, as tolerant as Cynthia was. “True. That is because we are not welcome on Centaur Isle, or indeed, among landbound centaurs generally. They regard us as a misceginated species.”

That stumped the bird. “What kind?”

“A crossbreed.”

“But all centaurs are crossbreeds,” Hannah said. “Between horses and humans.”

“We don't like to advertise our purported human ancestry,” Che said. “But the point is that ground-bound centaurs regard themselves as a pure species, and object to any dilution. They also regard magic as obscene.”

“And you use magic to fly,” Hannah said.

“So we are doubly obscene,” Che agreed cheerfully. “We live with it.”

“But how are we to get to Centaur Isle?”

“Simply walk along the beach until you come to the centaur ferry. Tell them your mission, and they will take you across.”

“But we can't tell the ferryman our real mission,” Goody said. “We're supposed to keep it quiet, for now.”

“And your mission is to place the peeve,” Cynthia reminded him.

Oh. Yes. “We'll walk,” he agreed.

“We shall await your return,” Che said.

“But don't you have better things to do than just wait?”

“No. This mission is preemptive.”

Oh, again. Of course.

“Lazy hoofers!”

The centaurs merely smiled, unruffled, which of course nettled the bird.

They walked along the beach. Soon they came to the centaur ferry station. A male centaur stood there as if expecting them. Had word somehow been sent ahead, or did they always have an alert stallion there? Probably the latter.

Goody approached the stallion, who carried a large bow and had a quiver of arrows on his back. “Hello. I am Goody Goblin, and this is my companion Hannah Barbarian. I seek a good home for this parody.”

“Not that it's any of your business, horseface.”

“Who speaks with my voice, insultingly,” Goody said. “So my mission is a challenge.”

The centaur nodded. He gestured to the raft at the edge of the water. It was stout and broad enough for centaurs, which meant it was more than adequate for them.

They boarded, and sat in the center. The centaur stepped onto the rear of it, holding a solid pole. He angled the pole, and the raft started moving.

“But the pole's not touching anything,” Goody said, surprised. “What's pushing the raft?”

“It is propelled by magic. The pole merely guides the thrust.”

“But I thought—”

“A common confusion. We centaurs regard magic infestation in our bodies to be obscene, as you might regard something rotting inside your body. But we recognize magic as a viable force in Xanth, and do not hesitate to use it as required.”

“Thank you for that clarification,” Hannah said. “It makes sense.”

“Indubitably.”

The raft continued across the water, moving well.

“Bogey at nine o'clock!”

Sure enough, there was something in the water. It was large and toothy. The centaur set down the pole, and the raft slowed. He lifted his bow.

The toothy thing turned tail. It had evidently had prior experience with centaurs.

“Chicken! Buk buk buk BAWK!”

But the shamed monster did not return.

The centaur picked up the pole again, and progress resumed. “Routine,” Hannah murmured.

They came to land on the large island that was the home of most of the centaurs of Xanth. They were met by a fair-haired filly, fully as full breasted as any of the breed.