Pet Peeve (29 page)

Goody still felt the effect of the Pierian elixir. “Then make him bigger, so they can't. That will also enable us to readily tell him apart from the others, so we know with whom we are dealing.”

She gave him a fast but nice hug and kiss. “Oh, you're so smart, Goody! We'll do that.”

They went out to tell the demons, who popped off to Iron Mountain and brought back loads of defunct iron robot parts. Pewter changed the reality of their shapes to make them fit the existing robot, and he grew until he was full human man sized.

“We need a name for him,” Hannah said. “Beginning with RO. What would be good?”

“Roland,” Tristan said. “Another legendary Mundane hero.” The troll was evidently partial to that kind.

“Roland it is,” she agreed. “Roland Robot.”

Pewter extruded the reprogrammed chip. Hannah took it and carried it to the robot. Then, caught by a sudden vapor in the air, she sneezed. Right on the chip. “Oh, no—I've given it a virus!”

“It is not the same,” Tristan said, unconcerned. He took the chip and set it carefully into the robot's enlarged head. He fixed it in place and closed the face-plate. “Now he should be operative. We should test him.”

“Your name is Roland Robot,” Gwenny said. “You are now twice as tall as you were, and stronger in proportion. How do you feel?”

The robot animated. “I feel—strange. I—” He sneezed.

“The virus!” Hannah wailed. “It is the same! It's my fault.”

Roland's head turned to bear on her. “What phenomenally fair creature is this?” he asked, amazed. Goody wasn't sure how metal features conveyed such emotion, but they did.

“Just me, Hannah Barbarian. I'm sorry I infected you.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

“Worship, desire, adore, deify, amour—”

“But you're a machine!”

“And you're a ravishingly lovely barbarian woman. Just my type.”

“That infection,” Gwenny said, awed. “It oriented the program on her. He really is in love with her.”

Had their seeming success become disaster?

Roland crossed to Hannah and put his metal arms around her. “Embrace me, beloved. Kiss me with your splendid barbarian passion. I am yours.”

“But I'm alive!” she protested. “You're iron.”

“I must have you, you luscious creature, lest my unrequited desire melt my innards.” He put his face-plate to her face, attempting to kiss her.

“But this is impossible! You don't have lips.”

“And I must possess you, you unutterably exotic delight. Hold me close.”

“But you don't have a—”

He paused. “So I don't. Make me one. I need it.”

“That'll be the day!” the parody said, finding this hilarious. “The chip needs a poker.”

“The brassy men have brass ones,” Roland said. “I can have an iron one.”

“How do you know about brassies?” Hannah asked, surprised.

“It's in my new improved data bank. A person can't have a conscience without knowing to what it applies. All species of Xanth are there, and all are to be respected on their own terms as long as they don't get in my way. It's the barbarian code.”

“So it is,” Hannah agreed. “I like that.”

“Then get me the parts I need to love you completely.” He drew her close again.

“Attaboy, Robbie! Give her an iron smooch!” the peeve said.

“Com Pewter,” Goody said urgently. “Change reality! Abolish the virus.”

“Pewter can change the reality of the locale and the events,” Tristan said. “But the robot is governed by the programmed chip. That must be removed and reprogrammed.”

“Then remove it!”

Tristan approached Roland. “Oh, no,” the robot said. “I don't want to be changed. It would deny me the great love of my unlife.”

“If you love Hannah,” Gwenny said, “You will want what she wants.”

Roland nodded in the manner Hannah might have. “True. If my love asks this of me, I must obey, though it crack my iron heart.”

“Ask him, Hannah,” Goody said.

But Hannah hesitated. “He's a barbarian male. An iron one, it is true, but still barbarian. And he loves me.”

“Yes, it's in his infected program,” Tristan said. “He will never stop, unless that program is changed.”

“And now is the time to change it,” Gwenny said. “We need to get it right before we leave this cave. Pewter doesn't give refunds.”

“Ask, beloved. I can deny you nothing, not even the loss of my overwhelming love.”

“I—” She shook her head. “I think I want to explore this further before deciding. Could there be a trial period?”

“Hannah!” Gwenny said, aghast. “You're not thinking of keeping him like this? Of—of—”

Hannah blushed, which must have been a considerable effort for her. “I think I want to try it, just in case.”

“But he's a robot!”

“He's a barbarian male machine. Those are rare.”

“Pewter understands your preference,” Tristan said. “Roland, come with me a moment.”

Roland hesitated. “Go with the troll,” Hannah said.

“Kiss me first, adorable.”

“Kiss me first, addlebrain,” the parody mimicked.

She planted a savage kiss on his face-plate.

“Now I go,” he said. “If it be the first and only kiss I have of you, it nevertheless fulfills my fondest desire.” He let her go and followed Tristan to another section of the cave.

“You can't be serious,” Gwenny said.

“A male troll can be decent, a male goblin can be polite,” Hannah said. “Why can't a robot be a manly barbarian?”

“Because he's not alive!”

“Yet you saved him from extinction, and made a deal to get him a better program. Did you do all that for a dead thing?”

That set Gwenny back a bit. “But I didn't consider him as a lover.”

“What about as a friend? Didn't you trust him, and he helped you contact Goody?”

Gwenny considered. “Yes. I suppose you're right. Give him a chance.”

Tristan and Roland returned. Now the robot had a roughly human face, complete with lips, and a subtly revised midsection. “Not all the changes show,” Tristan said.

“You didn't change my program,” Roland said.

“Too bad, rust bucket!” the peeve said.

Hannah was taken aback. “You thought that was what I wanted?”

“Barbarian subterfuge. But if it was your desire, I had to let it happen.”

“That's not the way of trust,” Gwenny said. “She wouldn't do something like that sneakily.”

“Some people would.”

“Some civilized people,” Hannah said. “They lack barbarian honor.”

“True. But most of those here are civilized.”

“You have a healthy distrust of civilization,” Hannah said. “I like that.” She embraced him and kissed his new metal lips.

It looked to be some kiss. Roland's limbs quivered and his iron color shifted to a shade of gray. “Oh, you gorgeous mistress!” he said shakily.

“Gorgeous what?” Goody asked.

“Never mind!” Hannah snapped. “Let's go somewhere we can explore this.”

Gwenny murmured something to the troll, who nodded. “Pewter has a pass for the honey side of the moon for three,” Tristan said. “You may use it now.”

“For three?” Hannah asked.

“For you and Roland, and a chaperon.”

“A chaperon! What do you think we're going to do there?”

“That's why you need one,” Gwenny said with three-fifths of a smile. “Goody can do it; I have business back at Goblin Mountain.”

“But I don't—” Goody started.

Gwenny caught up to him at that point and kissed him. “Just do it, dear.”

Dear? The word stunned him almost like a panty flash. By the time he recovered, he was outside the cave with Roland and Hannah. “You had to be the one,” she said. “Because I can't guard you unless we're together.”

“Why is Pewter being so nice? That isn't like him.”

“Gwenny made some kind of deal for the electronic rights to the soul program. Pewter can use them. It seems there may be a huge market in Mundania.”

“Machines with souls,” Goody said, seeing it. “Machines that always do the right thing.”

“That would really help with their Outernet.”

The three demons appeared. “Take us to the honey side of the moon,” Goody said.

“You're marrying the Neanderthal?” Metria asked, surprised.

“Marrying the what?”

“Barbarian!” Hannah said. “No, he's not. I'm going with Roland.”

Dara eyed him. “This is the robot we brought here?”

“We upgraded him.”

“I'll take him,” Vore said.

The demons closed about them, and two pats and a squeeze later they stood on the lovely honey side of the moon. The side facing Xanth and Mundania, of course, had long since had its milk curdled to moldy cheese by the sights it witnessed. This was the unspoiled side, a land of milk and honey, conducive to romance.

Hannah took Roland's hand and led him along a gently curving path between moon flowers. “Tell me more of what you think of me,” she said.

“You are the most graceful of all women, wonderful in ways I wish I could imagine. I would like nothing better than to bask eternally in the joy of your favor.”

“Sickening,” the peeve said.

“That's an interesting revision of the program,” Vore said.

“Not to mention the enhancement of physique,” Dara agreed admiringly. “Buns of steel. What happened?”

“Hannah sneezed on the reprogrammed chip. That gave it a virus. It seems the virus made Roland a barbarian, and in love with her.”

“That's so romantic,” Dara said.

“So now she wants to screw with that nut,” the parody said.

“Do what with what?” Metria asked.

“I think I'm supposed to prevent that,” Goody said uncomfortably. “They're just supposed to get to know each other, while she decides whether to have his program cleared of the virus.” He followed the couple.

Hannah glanced back at him. “Can't you give us a little more room? Three is a—” She paused, an odd look crossing her features and disappearing into her body. “Morgan le Fay?”

Oops. That was the Mundane sorceress Goody had balked in the dream realm, when she tried to take over Helen of Troy's body.

“I know that name,” Dara said. “She's a mischief maker from way back. She takes over the bodies of attractive women.”

“I thought that was the Sea Hag,” Vore said.

“Morgan's less destructive. She can't force them, exactly. She simply instills a strong desire to do what she wants them to do, and they think it's their own. After a time her wishes become theirs. She's strong on the physical pleasures, not the moral ones. She's been confined to one of the tiered Moons of Ida and wants to find a host in Xanth proper.”

“Odd that she should appear just when we are here,” Vore said.

“Why should I want to get back at Goody Goblin?” Hannah asked, evidently speaking to someone unseen.

“Because I messed Morgan up,” Goody said. “She must have learned my identity.”

“She thinks Hannah's your girlfriend!” Dara said. “So she's infesting her.”

“The word is investing,” Hannah's voice said.

“Like a virus,” Goody agreed.

“No coincidence at all,” Vore said. “This is after all where lovers come.”

“We've got to stop this,” Goody said. “But I don't know how.”

“Idiot!” the parody said. “Play it through.”

Goody focused, and the bird's meaning clarified. “Roland!” he said. “Hannah has a visitor inside her head, like a new program. The visitor doesn't believe you are romantic. You're her boyfriend. Show her visitor what barbarians are made of. Make love to her.”

“With your iron prong,” the parody added encouragingly.

The robot required no further urging. “Beloved! Be mine!” He embraced Hannah, kissing her avidly. His reworked lips seemed to work just fine.

“What's this?” Hannah's voice screeched, sounding like someone else, possibly a harpy. “Unhand me, brute!”

“Ignore her maidenly protestations,” Goody called. “She wants to be mastered barbarian style.”

“Outrageous!” Hannah's voice exclaimed as Hannah's body struggled with the iron grip of the robot. “Get your face-plate out of my face, you ludicrous contraption!” But she wasn't having much success in persuading him.

“Morgan!” Goody said. “Hannah is Roland's girlfriend, not mine. You are doomed to perpetual mechanical love.”

“The bleep I am!”

Something changed. Roland paused. “Hannah?”

“She's gone,” Hannah said. “What a witch!”

“You don't want to be mastered?” He sounded disappointed.

Hannah considered. “Goody, go back to the cave and tell Pewter the present program is all right. We'll stay here for a while or two.”

“But—”

“We no longer need a chaperon,” she said firmly.

“Take a hint, simpleton!” the parody said.

Oh. And they were in the place of romance.

Metria enclosed him and transported him back to the cave. Naturally she squeezed him in especially awkward places. “Ain't love grand,” she murmured. “May he never soften.”

Almost, he asked for a clarification of the term, but caught himself in time.

It was sheer delight waking up in a full goblin bed with Gwenny beside him. “This goes beyond niceness,” he said. “I know you made a deal with Com Pewter, but Roland and Hannah's visit to the honeymoon took care of that. Why did he provide us this wonderful private room?”

“He needs Roland's agreement too, so has to wait until they return.”

“They're still there?”

“Hannah has been without a man for a long time, and it seems he is indefatigable.”

“Tristan made a working, um, device?”

“Tristan made an approximate one. Then Pewter changed its reality, following some sort of treatment described on the Mundane Outernet to make it bigger and harder. It surely works.”

“Will it fool the storks?”

“Oh, I should think so.” She kissed him. “Why this interest in them, when you've got me?”

They had had a remarkable night, but her words alerted him. “Is that a hint?”

“No. It's a seduction.” She rolled onto him, making it literal.

“Oh Gwenny,” he gasped shortly later. “I know I love you. I wish you'd ask me to marry you.”

“In due course. There remains one thing to verify.”

“What is that?”

“You will know it when it occurs. Meanwhile we still have to place the peeve.”

He had almost forgotten. “The peeve! Where is it?”

“Entertaining Tristan Troll. Trolls understand attitudes like that.”

“Do you suppose—”

“No, Pewter doesn't want bird droppings in his cave.”

“Too bad.”

“Now if you're quite done ravishing me—”

He had to laugh. “I doubt I'll ever be done with that. You make me feel young again.”

“You're eleven years older than I am. Are you saying I'm getting old?”

“No, of course not!”

“So will you tire of me when I do get old?”

“No!” She was teasing him, but he couldn't help reacting.

“And you really don't mind that I'm lame?”

“I don't even notice. But if I did, it wouldn't make a difference. You're beautiful, and you have no trouble with your legs where it counts.”

“Slow walking?”

“That too.”

“I wish I could dance.”

“Maybe you just haven't found the right dance.”

She kissed him. “Maybe.”

They got up, cleaned up, and went out to see whether the others were back. They were, and Roland had already given his consent for the electronic rights. Both looked about as satisfied as Goody felt.

“Now let's get that bird a home,” Hannah said. “So I can stop guarding you.”

“We had a small diversion,” Goody said. “But now we should be able to focus exclusively on that.”

“Lotsa luck, suckers!”

Goody sincerely hoped the parody's cynicism was unjustified. But he feared it wasn't.

Soon they were on their way. Goody, Gwenny, Hannah, and Roland. They walked slowly, so that Gwenny had no trouble. They stayed mostly on the enchanted paths. And they focused on the parody.

They came to a pleasant garden beside the path, tended by a young man. “Hello,” Goody said. “That's a nice collection of plants.”

“Thank you,” the man said. “It's my talent. I can modify things to other varieties, and modify them again, in a chain.”

“Modify your stupid head.”

Goody hastily explained about the talking bird.

The man demonstrated. He started with a lily flower, and modified it to a tiger lily that growled and snapped at them. Then he modified it to a purring pussy willow. Then to a stiff cattail. And so on, finally back to a lion lily.

“That's beautiful,” Gwenny said. “Can you modify a bird?”

“Don't you dare, turnip top!”

They had to go on, reminded of just how difficult it was to place the parody. “Do you actually want to find a home?” Goody asked it.

“Sure, if that gets rid of you, slacker.”

But Goody had to wonder. A good home might leave the peeve nothing to be peeved about. It wouldn't like that.

They moved on. Soon they saw commotion across a field. A dragon seemed to be chasing down a running man.

“One hot meal coming up,” the parody remarked.

“The fool should have known to stay on the enchanted path,” Hannah said.

“We've got to help him,” Gwenny said, stepping off the path.

“Wait, Gwenny!” Goody cried. “We can't stop a big dragon! We can't even—” He broke off, unwilling to remind her that she couldn't even outrun it long. And of course he knew she had a tender heart; it was one reason he loved her. So he followed her.

“Bleep!” Hannah swore. She followed, drawing her sword.

“Is this diversion necessary?” Roland inquired, following her.

“Yes,” Hannah said. “It's my job to guard Goody until the bird gets placed. I can't stop him from being a fool meanwhile; he's in love.”

“Ah, I comprehend. Shall I balk the dragon?”

“Sure. That will save me from nicking my sword on its tough scales.”

Roland forged ahead at remarkable velocity, trailing smoke. He intercepted the dragon just as it was about to gobble down the man. “I say, beast: depart.”

The dragon gazed down at him, then smirked. It inhaled, readying a withering (or more correctly, melting) blast of fire.

Roland stepped in and bashed it on the snout with his iron fist. “Begone, miscreant!”

The blow clearly had power. It rocked the dragon's head back. Little planets swirled around its snout as its stifled flame shot out its ears. It staggered away, defeated.

“You saved me!” the man exclaimed. “Thank you, iron man!”

“You are welcome. I did it at my beloved's request.”

“I am Paine. I come from Camp Pain, where candi dates grow and sling mud. I got so sick of muddy dates! My talent is getting into crises. I fear this would have been my last one, had you not intervened.”

“Would have served you right, nitwit.”

Goody hastily explained about the bird.

The normal dialogue reestablished itself. “I am Roland, iron-hearted barbarian warrior.”

“Get on the enchanted path,” Hannah said. “Before another crisis catches up with you.”

“Oh, I shall,” Paine agreed. “But I can't escape the crises. It's my curse.”

“Maybe you should change your name,” Goody said. “Such as to Painter. That might change your curse.”

Paine looked at him, astonished. “I never thought of that. I'll try it.” He turned to Roland. “Thank you again.” He hurried to the path.

“That was beautiful, Roland,” Hannah said, kissing him.

“Anything for you, my lovely,” he replied gallantly.

“Disgusting,” the peeve said. “She's turned hard metal into gunk.”

“It's the way barbarian men are about women,” Hannah explained. “They are utter adorable fools.”

Goody exchanged a glance with Gwenny. It was clearly love. Hannah had indeed found her man, in the least likely place. And Gwenny had more than honored her commitment to the robot.

They returned to the enchanted path. The rescued man was gone, but there was a splatter of bright blue paint on the ground. “Why do I think that changing his name did not entirely change his curse?” Gwenny asked rhetorically.

They came to an odd tree. It was covered with musical instruments. “A music tree!” Gwenny exclaimed, delighted. “That must be where the curse fiends get their instruments for the music to accompany their plays. I wish I were musical.”

“You govern Goblin Mountain, and you want to be a musician?” Hannah asked.

“Being chiefess is my business; I inherited that. My dreams are something else. I think Goody is one of them.”

“I don't understand.”

“You dope! She's got a ring in your nose.”

“She means she wanted honest love,” Hannah said. “As did I. As does any woman. It's harder for some of us to find than it is for uncomplicated damsels.”

“She means you're a lovesick nobody,” the peeve said.

“I'm not sick,” Goody protested.

“Oh, I don't know,” Hannah said teasingly. “Put a thermometer in your mouth and it would jump five degrees when you looked at Gwenny.”

“Don't do that,” Gwenny said with mock alarm. “Don't you know those things are spy eyes for the Demon Mercury?”

“Good point,” Hannah agreed. “Better leave them to Mundania, where they don't know any better.”

They were still gazing at the tree. “This violin looks my size,” Gwenny said.

Roland inspected it. There was a faint whirring sound in his head. “That is in my data bank. It is a tic-kit. It sends critics elsewhere.”

“You're so smart,” Hannah said, giving him another kiss.

“Nauseous!”

“Com Pewter didn't have a barbarian data bank, so he used the standard one,” Roland said. “It is filled with useless information.”

“At any rate, it is obviously the instrument for me,” Gwenny said. “Since I know nothing about music. The centaurs tried to teach me, but I wasn't very good. The critics would destroy me.” She gazed longingly at the little violin.

“Take it,” Goody urged her. “I'll like anything you play.”

“Now that's an attitude I appreciate.” She took the violin, which came away readily, with its bow attached. She played a note.

Goody managed not to wince. She was right: it was an awful note.

“It requires tuning,” Roland said. “May I?”

Gwenny gave him the violin, and he tightened the strings and returned it. She tried the note again. This time it was melodic. “But that's as far as I go,” she said. “I learned only the first note. I can't play a tune.”

“Practice,” Hannah advised.

Gwenny put the violin in her backpack, and they went on. So far they were having no luck in placing the bird. Were they ever going to find a good home for it? Goody was getting a heavy feeling about that.

They passed a man walking the other way. He paused, glancing at Goody. “You look glum, goblin.”

“And you look stupid, bleephead,” the parody said.

Goody hastily explained about the peeve. “So you see, I am beginning to doubt I can ever find a home for it. That makes it hard to smile.”

“I can make you smile,” the man said.

“Oh, are you looking for a pet bird?”

“By no means. It's my talent: making folk smile.” He focused on Goody.

Goody smiled so broadly he was afraid his face was stretching out of bounds. But he didn't feel any better.

“You're so handsome when you smile,” Gwenny said, kissing his cheek. Then he felt better.

They came to a lake. A fin projected from the water as something forged toward them. “A loan shark!” Gwenny said, alarmed.

Roland's head whirred as he sorted his database. “This is not a shark fin,” he said. “It is a doll fin.”

The water creature lifted its nose from the water. “Indeed, I am the smartest of water creatures,” it said.

“The smartest Alec,” the peeve said.

“But I don't believe I have seen a talking green parody or a barbarian robot before.”

“The bird is one of a kind,” Goody said.

“And Roland is the first of his kind,” Hannah said. “But maybe not the last.”

“A talking fish and a talking bird,” Gwenny said sourly.

“That is a popular misconception,” the water creature said. “I am not a fish.”

“And what's this? A fiddle?” She drew it out.

Goody was taken aback. This was unlike her.

Gwenny put the violin to her chin and plied the bow. Lovely music came forth. She played an archaic melody, then paused. “Well, at least it's in tune.”

“Thank you,” Roland said.

“But Gwenny, you can't play a tune,” Goody said.

“That ain't Gwenny, stupe,” the parody said.

Gwenny focused on the bird. “Shut your beak.”

But Goody already had the hint. “Morgan!” he said, horrified.

“The great light dawns,” she said sarcastically. “You denied me Helen, and you inflicted the rattletrap robot on me. Now I shall make you pay.”

“Now I recognize her attitude,” Hannah said. “Don't let her stay. She's not nice.”

“Thank you for that perceptive analysis, hussy.”

“Gwenny!” Goody said. “That's Morgan le Fay, the Mundane sorceress. She can't control you directly. All she can do is make you think you want to do something. If you know it's not your own wish, you retain control. Don't let her run your body.”

A flash of Gwenny showed. “That explains it! I couldn't understand why I was suddenly so cynical, or how I could play the violin.”

“Neither do you have a magic talent, as I do. But you know you want to do my will,” Morgan said. “It's like an itch: you can't rest until you scratch it. You may fight if you choose, but the end is certain.”

“No, it isn't!” Goody said. “You can throw her off, Gwenny, if you try hard enough.”

“But you don't want to try, dear,” Morgan said. “Do you?”

There was a visible internal struggle. Then Gwenny spoke. “I do—do—oh Goody, I no longer want to. I'm so sorry.”

Goody turned to Hannah and Roland in dawning despair. “What can we do? Morgan is inside her.”

Roland's head whirred. “There is a way.” He ran forward with surprising speed, picked Gwenny up, and ran up the path with her.

“Good riddance, harridan!” the parody cried.

“What's he doing?” Goody asked, newly alarmed. “I don't think he can kiss Morgan away, as he did with you; she knows that's no permanent relationship.”

“I don't know, but I trust him,” Hannah said. “I know he loves only me. Gwenny didn't sneeze on his program.”

Then Roland came speeding back without Gwenny. “She is free for the moment, but it may not last.”

“What did you do?” Hannah asked.

“I moved her rapidly. My data bank says that a spiritual force takes time to fully occupy a living body. If that body moves, the spirit gets left behind, and must reorient. My information does not specify how long reorientation takes.”

“So she'll have to keep moving,” Goody said. “But what about when she sleeps?”

“I can transport her as she sleeps,” Roland said. “I do not require sleep myself, though I am satisfied to emulate it if my love desires it.”

“There won't be much desire if you can never stop carrying another woman around,” Hannah said, not entirely pleased.

“I will desist if that is your preference, inamorata.”

“No, keep her moving. But we need to find a better way.”