Up In A Heaval (16 page)

Umlaut snapped out of it as Sesame nudged him. How long had he been out this time? He should have known better than to watch that nymph bounce on the bed. But his eyes tended to go where they wished, almost as if wanting to freak out.

A horse and cart were approaching them from beyond the bed. This must be what the centaur had promised. The horse was a magnificent beast, with its head held high and its hooves touching the ground smartly. But the cart it hauled was more remarkable. It seemed to be made of large chunks of flesh. Each chunk had what looked like a fingernail on one side. Taken as a whole, it was one weird vehicle.

Maybe the animals understood this, having paid more attention to Epi's description than he had. He went into a quick dialogue with Sesame, who was glad to clarify the matter for him: It was a high horse drawing a toe truck. They would take the party to Grundy Golem on the trollway.

A toe truck: A truck made out of toes, getting toed, or towed. The toes were fastened to wheels and dug into the ground to get traction. He should have known. “But what's this about a trollway?”

That, it seemed, was a paved road maintained by the trolls. It went the length of Xanth, from the southern tip to the northern marshes, and was excellent for rapid transit.

“The whole way? Then we must have crossed it coming here, unless we went under it.”

No, Sesame explained in Serpentine, they probably wouldn't have seen it even if they had stayed on the surface, because it was limited access.

“You mean they let only a few people on it?”

Not exactly.

“Is it limited in some other way?”

The Void.

“What does the Void have to do with a trollway?”

It was that the Void was an extremely potent hole in the Land of Xanth and caused the land near it to wrinkle so that there was more of it, but not all of it was accessible at the same time. The trollway ran along one of the creases.

“Then how can we get to it?”

Here the serpent's powers of explanation via emulation dialogue broke down. It seemed this was a more devious concept.

“Maybe it fades in and out, like the isles,” Umlaut concluded. That seemed to cover it. Claire probably could have clarified it but didn't care to bother.

The horse and toe wagon halted by the bed. A ramp let down in back so that Para could waddle up and in. Then the four of them jumped, slithered, and climbed on. “Farewell, Snortimer!” Umlaut called as they started moving. The bed responded with a poke in the center of the mattress.

That reminded Umlaut: “I never actually saw Snortimer. What does he look like?”

Claire responded this time, as she knew the answer. She always knew the answer, but he was too dull to ask her most times, and she did not deign to volunteer information for dullards. Snortimer, like many bed monsters, was all hands. That was because all he had to do was grab ankles. The nymphs loved it; they would arrange to roll off the bed and disappear under it, playing games of kiss-and-grab. If a nymph could kiss the monster in more places than he could grab her, she won. Those outside the bed could keep score: If there were more smacks than screams, she had won. They played the game with enthusiasm, and it didn't seem to matter much who won.

Umlaut thought about playing a game like that with a bare maiden, in a dark place so the sight of her body wouldn't freak him out. He liked the notion. There were only two problems: He wouldn't have the nerve to grab anywhere interesting, and no girl he had encountered would kiss him if he did. So it seemed that only nymphs could play that game. Still, if somehow ...

Sesame nudged him, and he came out of it. More time had passed, for they were now well out of the retreat and coming up to a wide paved road. A sign said STOP: PAY TROLL, so the high horse had stopped. Indeed, two trolls were standing there, about as ugly as their kind was: somewhere between goblin and ogre.

Umlaut leaned out of the truck. “What are we supposed to pay you?”

One troll said something indecipherable but vaguely menacing. Umlaut was afraid he wouldn't like the answer if he understood it, so he didn't ask for a clarification. Instead he turned to Claire. “What do we need?”

They went Feline dialogue, but again the answer did not quite come clear. There was just something complicated about getting on the trollway. He gathered that he needed to send the trolls somwhere, both of them; then they could get on the paved road. But he wasn't clear where or how.

Finally Claire, in exasperation, turned to Sammy. Sammy gave Umlaut a look, then jumped out of the truck and walked slowly toward the high horse. Umlaut, catching on, followed.

Following the cat's indications, he unhitched the high horse from the toe truck, then climbed on to the animal's back. He was now high off the ground, and felt very superior. “Well, let's go,” he said, lifting his nose.

Sammy took off, following a trail that wound away from the paved road. The horse followed, breaking from a standstill into a full gallop in one motion. Umlaut thought he should have fallen off, for he knew nothing about horse riding, but it seemed that part of the magic of this creature was to keep the rider secure on his high perch. And high he was; he felt as if his head was in the clouds, above everything else. Especially above everyone else. All the rest of Xanth is distinctly inferior.

They passed a young woman standing by the trail. “Hi,” she said. “I am Aloe Vera. My talent is soothing burns. May I have a ride?”

“Of course not,” Umlaut said snootily, and left her behind. She was obviously one of the lowly commoners who didn't deserve any attention, let alone a ride.

Sammy came to a field of pebbles and stopped. This must be the place. The high horse halted, and Umlaut dismounted. The moment he was off the horse, he felt chagrin: why had he treated that woman, Aloe, so shabbily? At least he could have been courteous.

He saw that the pebbles of the field were labeled. Each one said SENT. Someone must have sent it here. So what did that have to do with the price of beans in a beanie?

Then a dim bulb flashed. He had to send the trolls away so his party could get on the trollway. Once they were away, they would have been sent. These pebbles might be magic, making them get sent.

He picked up a handful and put them in his pockets. Sammy was satisfied, so then he climbed back on the horse. They galloped back toward the troll intersection.

On the way they passed Aloe. “May I have—?” she began.

Umlaut did not deign to answer. He simply flipped her a pebble She caught it—and vanished. It had worked: She had been sent probably to the field where the pebbles had come from.

They arrived back at the intersection. “You want to be paid?' Umlaut demanded arrogantly from the high horse. ”I'll give you two sents." He flipped one pebble to each troll.

Both trolls vanished. They had been paid two sents, which was probably more than they were worth.

He got off the high horse and hitched up the wagon harness again. Then he and Sammy returned to the wagon. The horse stepped haughtily onto the paved road and increased speed. Soon they were fairly flying along it.

Then something else occurred to Umlaut. The horse—he had been snooty only when on the high horse. That was its talent, to make folk snooty. That was why he had been so mean to Aloe. He was sorry now, as it was not his natural attitude, but it was too late. He resolved not to ride the horse again; he didn't like the memory of himself there.

And now he also understood why the concept of the payment had been so hard to grasp. He had paid the trolls by cheating them. He wasn't proud of that, either.

But one mystery remained: the limited access nature of the road. Sure, the trolls had guarded it, but he didn't think that was what limited it. It seemed more likely that it was limited in the sense of not being there for most folk. Why was it there for their party and not for others? Had Epi Centaur or some other person of the Brain Coral's Pool made a spell that allowed them access? Maybe, but that still didn't explain why it apparently was not even visible to others.

He struggled but could not fathom the mystery. Meanwhile they were moving rapidly north.

Suddenly they came to a monstrous chasm. “What is that?” Umlaut exclaimed, awed by its breadth and depth.

All three of his companions turned their heads to gaze at him, and even Para seemed surprised. He didn't know of the Gap Chasm?

“Oh, that,” he said, nettled. He just hadn't realized that it was that big, from ground level. Actually he hadn't known of the Faun & Nymph Retreat before, either, or the Isle of Cats, or the Moons of Ida. Could this be related to the way he couldn't remember his own past life? Yes, he must have forgotten everything he had known before, both personal and general. However, that merely set up the next question: Why? The idea that Sherry's kisses could have done that much damage was wearing thin. The mystery of himself was deeper than his relationship with a former girlfriend.

But he couldn't ponder long; the chasm was fast approaching. “Are we going to plunge into that?” he asked, alarmed.

Claire twitched her tail reassuringly. No, they had a safe way to pass it. The trolls used to use a cloud ferry but recently had dug a tunnel.

“A tunnel?”

The Troll Tunnel, otherwise known as the Trunnel. Before Umlaut could inquire further, horse and wagon plunged into a dark aperture he hadn't seen coming. They were going down, down, frighteningly down in darkness. The animals weren't concerned, because they could see better than he could in the gloom. So he got halfway smart and emulated a nocturnal creature and began to see the tunnel.

Why had he bothered? There wasn't much to see. So he settled down to think some more—and fell asleep. It seemed he couldn't do anything quite right.

He woke as light struck his face. They were out the other side. Now they were north of the Gap Chasm and still proceeding north.

“Where is Grundy Golem?” he asked querulously.

It turned out that he lived in Euphoria, just north of Xanth.

“But that would mean it has no magic.”

True, Sammy indicated. What was his point?

Umlaut felt awkward yet again. He didn't have a point.

The day was fading, but the high horse didn't stop. Umlaut had had no idea it was so far. “Don't we need to take a break for supper and the night?” he asked.

They shrugged. Apparently not. There turned out to be food in the truck, so they ate. Para didn't seem to need to eat, being magically animated. After that there wasn't much to do, because the surrounding scenery was absolutely dull, so they all slept. The high horse just kept galloping indefatigably, and the toes of the truck did not get sore. The Brain Coral's Pool evidently had good equipment.

When they woke, the dawn was brightening, the horse was slowing, and the scenery was changing. Were they finally arriving?

Yes! The high horse came to a halt at an exit marked EUPHORIA. This was where they had to get off, Claire clarified; the horse could not go farther because he would lose his magic. Euphoria was a place without magic, she reminded him. That meant that he and Sesame would not be able to emulate others, Sammy would not be able to find things, and Claire herself would lose her voyance. So the sooner he delivered the letter and returned to the magic zone, the better.

“The letter!” he exclaimed. “I haven't read it.”

They shrugged. The four of them got off the truck, and the ramp lowered to let Para descend. Then the high horse set off the way they had come, hauling the toes behind. They were on their own.

Umlaut brought out the letter and read it.

Dear Grundy,

This is coming to you from Mundania, but I know you'll have no problem understanding it because of your talent of interpretation. That was my feeble attempt at levity because the magic of Xanth converts all words of foreign places to Xanthian.

There is a famous personage in my world also who translates all languages as you do. His name is C-3PO. Mundania seems to have some overlapping qualities of your home, only it is not magic—we call it science. Perhaps some of the magic of your world is slightly leaking over to mine. Not enough to diminish yours, just to enhance it here. That would be a wonderful occurrence.

I have been practicing insults in order to write to you. Being unaccustomed to it, I am nowhere near being in your league, but I think I may have one you may appreciate:

gr*!$&!*~>/*#ia*! !)##**!!!

Wow! I surprise myself—that nearly scorched the page! Understand this is not directed at you but at certain bigoted bureaucrats of my world.

I will end this now without excess information of who I am. A few letters have gone from my home to some of your friends. Gossip being what it is—in any world—you have probably already heard of the strange Mundanian who persists in corresponding with citizens of Xanth. Happy cursing, Grundy.

Your friend, Arjayess

Once again, it did not seem like a letter that was likely to set anyone off into any fits of rage. But if Grundy's magic talent was interpretation, would it be working there in Euphoria? If not, that reference might sadden him. Yet it must have been his choice to move here. Why would he have deliberately denied himself and his family their natural magic? It didn't seem to make sense. In fact, a lot of what Umlaut was learning during this mission didn't seem to make much sense.

Well, it was not his business to decide whether it made sense, but whether it was likely to be harmful to Xanth, and this was another innocuous missive. All of them were, which made Demon Jupiter's reaction odd. Unless there was some hidden message he was missing, these letters were no threat to anyone.

Umlaut's gaze fell on Para. “Um, this is a place of no magic. Can you go there?”

The boat regretfully shook its foresection.

What to do? His brain seemed even slower than usual. It was as if he had never had any practice in thinking and had to learn how to do it for each new situation. “I guess we'll be coming back this way, as soon as I deliver the letter. We could use some transportation, wherever we go in Xanth. So if you care to wait—”