Read Up In A Heaval Online

Authors: Piers Anthony

Tags: #Humor, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Young Adult

Up In A Heaval (29 page)

BOOK: Up In A Heaval
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Umlaut couldn't remember when he had smelled a worse stink. The fetor was so rank it transcended mere malodor and reeked to low hell. It gave the very concept of foul a puny name. Could saving Xanth possibly be worth this putrid odor? The others were quietly choking. He had forgotten that actions had consequences, and this was one such.

Then Umlaut got another notion. He grabbed the bottle again and twisted out the cork. The divine diffuse rose smell wafted out and spread, nullifying the corruption. Soon they were able to breathe free again.

“Thank you,” Humfrey said.

Wira wobbled. Umlaut caught her before she fainted from the shock. He understood her problem: It was the first time she had heard the Good Magician say those words to a visitor. She hadn't known it was possible.

“You're welcome,” Umlaut said, pleased. He had accomplished something worthwhile. That was rare.

Xanth 26 - Up in a Heaval
Chapter 19: RORRIM

The Gorgon met them downstairs. “You must be just about done with your deliveries,” she remarked.

“I have just one more letter,” Umlaut agreed. He brought it out. “To Rorrim. I have no idea who that is.”

“Then how can you deliver it?”

“Sammy can find—”

Immediately the cat took off. But Claire's warning mew caught him again in midleap, and he dropped to the floor.

The Gorgon nodded. “You manage him very well,” she remarked.

Claire shrugged. It was a matter of course.

“Why did you stop him?” Umlaut asked.

Because the situation was devious, she replied.

“I love devious situations,” the Gorgon said. “I remember when Humfrey tackled the Demon Xanth to get his former wife Rose of Roogna back and wound up with five and a half wives. We are still enduring the complications of that.”

“What's devious about this?” Umlaut asked.

Read the letter, Claire suggested.

“Oh, uh, yes.” He opened it and read:

GLASSCO IMAGERY

RORRIM:

Your actions are outrageous! Magic mirror, indeed! You have been successful in keeping yourself hidden from us for many a long year and have deceived multitudes of innocent creatures.

No longer will we watch worlds in vain. Your presence in the land called Xanth has been discovered by a young Mundane woman. During the time she—but no, this information is not, I think, for your knowledge. Just could not resist the publicity, could you? Vain, strutting peacock!

From this day forth it will be impossible to stay concealed. The item you stole from us to enhance your image shall be removed. This substance is extremely powerful, and once stripped of it you will revert to your ordinary appearance for eternity.

Your time of concealment is through. We want what is rightfully ours, and rest assured, we will retrieve it. We will arrive soon and bring you back to await trial. Know too that your accomplices will be apprehended in due course.

Appointed Elders and Council of GLASSCO IMAGERY

Umlaut looked up. “That's no friendly missive.”

“It certainly isn't,” the Gorgon agreed. “And it looks as though Rorrim is a magic mirror, or at least associates with one. That narrows the options somewhat. There are only so many of those in Xanth.”

“But if Sammy can find the right one, we shouldn't have a problem,” Umlaut said.

No, Claire clarified. The moment he tried to deliver the letter, Rorrim would flee instantly to another mirror.

“But how can I catch him, then?”

Claire sniffed the letter. The Glassco folk were from a far region.

They could track magic when it was used. That was how they discovered that Rorrim had come to Xanth. But they couldn't zero in specifically as long as he stayed put. So they sent the letter to rout him out. If Umlaut found him and delivered it, they would know his location. If he forced Rorrim to flee, they would know his location within five mirrors. If he traveled a second time, they would nail him right there. So he could flee Umlaut only once; then he must remain put, because he feared Glassco more than anything else.

“Why is he limited to mirrors?”

Claire gave him a stupid human stare and answered: He was an aspect of a magic mirror. He changed it to broaden its power. An ordinary magic mirror reflected reality, one place or another. In Mundania a mirror's magic was limited to reflecting here and now. In Xanth it reflected other places too so could be used to communicate or discover hidden reality. Rorrim refracted, showing many possible realities and time's, so could be used to see futures. But he had no substance aside from that magic; he had to reside in a magic mirror or perish.

“That's amazing,” Umlaut said.

It was all part of the situation of the letter, Claire clarified. But that should have been obvious regardless, since Rorrim was mirror spelled backward.

Umlaut's jaw dropped. “I never thought of that!”

She switched her tail. Well, he was human.

So he was. “So Rorrim will flee before I can deliver the letter, and go to another magic mirror. How can we know which one?”

“We can narrow it down,” the Gorgon said. “There are only five we know of in Xanth, and those must be all, because Humfrey would know if there were more. The one here at the Good Magician's Castle, the one at Castle Roogna, at Castle Zombie, the Nameless Castle, and Castle Maidragon.”

“We're here, and we've been to Castle Roogna and Castle Zombie,” Umlaut said. “But I never heard of the other two.”

“The Nameless Castle is where Nimby and Chlorine live now. It floats on a cloud over Xanth, constantly changing its location. That's obviously where Rorrim will go. So go ahead and try to deliver your letter here, then we'll help you reach the Nameless Castle.”

“Uh, okay, I guess,” Umlaut said with his usual certainty. “Where—”

Sammy resumed motion. They followed him to another chamber where a mirror hung on the wall. It looked ordinary, but of course that was deceptive.

“Rorrim,” Umlaut said. “I have a letter to—”

There was a flicker in the glass. He was gone, Claire indicated with a flick of her tail.

Umlaut didn't question that; it had been expected. “Now how do we get to the Nameless Castle?”

“You don't,” the Gorgon said.

“But—”

“I spoke loud enough for Rorrim to hear. Since he figures you'll look at the Nameless Castle, naturally he's gone to Castle Maidragon.”

Umlaut felt even duller than usual, which was an effort. “Why?”

“So you won't find him, of course. Not without considerable loss of time, which could make all the difference. After all, you could lose the letter, or change your mind.”

“I won't—”

“I hope not. Now, do you know where Castle Maidragon is?”

“I guess Sammy can find it.”

“To be sure. Let me give you something to eat along the way as you travel.”

Umlaut finally figured out the rest of his objection. “What about Castle Roogna and Castle Zombie? Why couldn't he be there?”

“Because the three little princesses are at the first, and they would quickly catch on to his nature and ruin his anonymity. The zombies are at the second, and he won't like the way they clean him off with liquid putrefaction. Castle Maidragon, in contrast, is clean and private. It's his only satisfactory choice.”

“That must be right,” Umlaut agreed. “Thank you for your logic. It's so much better than mine.”

Her little snakes writhed with pleasure. “Let me get those goodies.” She left.

Soon they were on their way, the boat stocked with Gorgonzola cheese and assorted breads and pastries. Umlaut concluded that he liked the Gorgon.

It was some distance south, and they had to spend a night on the trail. They stopped at a camping site, ate, washed, and settled in a giant nest to sleep. Sesame curled around it, her body forming a pillow for Umlaut. Para preferred to float on the surface of a passing stream, and the two cats disappeared into the night on feline business.

“Umlaut.”

He woke with a start. That was Surprise's voice. He quickly climbed out of the nest, not disturbing Sesame, and looked around in the darkness. “Surprise.”

“Oh, Umlaut, I'm so glad I found you!” she said, hugging him. Her body was surprisingly bouncy.

“How did you come here? I thought you couldn't repeat talents.”

“This time I took the form of a nymph,” she said. “That's not the same as a harpy. Here, feel me.” She took his hand and passed it along her body, and he almost freaked out. It was definitely nymphly.

“I, uh, thought the talent was of assuming another form. Any other form.”

“No, each different form counts as another talent,” she said. “Now come with me; I have made a wonderful bower.”

“Bower?” he asked dully. “What for?”

“To summon the stork in, of course. Come on.” She tugged on his hand.

“But I thought you didn't know how to do that.”

“Nymphs know how. When I assumed this form, suddenly I knew. I am eager to celebrate with you.”

“Celebrate,” he repeated, remembering the way the fauns and nymphs of the Faun & Nymph Retreat had hugged and kissed. It had certainly looked like fun.

“Yes, we'll do it again and again,” she said eagerly. “We'll have such fun.”

Something bothered him about this, but when he tried to hold back, she kissed him again and set his hand on her bare bottom. This time he did freak out, for when he came to, they were well away from the camp and coming to her bower.

But the botheration remained. “Surprise, I don't think we ought to do this yet. We agreed to wait until you were of age.”

“Oh, pooh! I decided not to wait. No one will know.” She tugged him onward through the darkness.

Then she collided with something. “Eeeek!” she screamed in perfect nymphly manner, flinging her hair about. “What is this?”

There was a hiss. Umlaut recognized it. “Sesame!”

“What are you doing here?” Surprise demanded. “This is private. Get out of the way.”

But Sesame continued to block their way. She hissed again, and Umlaut recognized what she was saying: How had Surprise gotten across the Gap Chasm?

That made Umlaut pause. As a harpy, she had been able to fly across it, if she had to cross it. But as a nymph she couldn't do that. So he repeated the question. “Sesame wants to know how you crossed the Gap Chasm.”

“I used the invisible bridge, of course. Now get out of here, you constrictor.”

“You what?” Umlaut asked.

“Snake, python, viper, reptile—”

“Serpent?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.

A dim bulb glowed, brushing back the darkness for a moment. “Hello, Metria.”

“Oh, bleep! What gave me away?”

Now that he had confirmed his sudden suspicion, Umlaut found a number of prior indications. “I think different forms don't count as different talents, so you couldn't be Surprise. And it would have taken you all night to get here from there, with no time left over to make a bower. And Surprise would never try to entrap me like that.”

“Try to what you?”

“Entice, allure, beguile, debauch, tempt—”

“Seduce?”

“Whatever,” he agreed crossly,

“So you might as well let me do it, since she won't. You have no idea how much fun it can be.” She tried to tug him onward again.

“But I wouldn't do it with you,” he protested.

“Let's find out.” She embraced him again, trying to kiss him while she wriggled her remarkably plush body against him.

Such was the evocative power of that body, he found himself tempted. He didn't know exactly how such celebration occurred but was extremely curious.

Sesame hissed again, distracting him. Beware the bower, she said.

“But that's where we can do it most comfortably,” the demoness protested. “Come on, it's right here. If you don't like it, you can go back to your camp.”

That seemed fair. He started to walk forward.

Sesame flung herself at him, pushing him back. Do not go there!

“But she says she'll let me go if I don't like it.”

It is beside a thyme plant.

“A thyme plant?”

It changed time in its vicinity, she explained. A year might seem like an hour.

Suddenly it clicked into place. “If I go there, I'll never deliver the last letter!”

“Oh, fudge,” Metria swore and dissipated into a very cross cloud of smoke.

Umlaut realized that he had had a really close call. “Thank you, Sesame,” he said, hugging her.

It is what a friend is for, she said, wriggling.

Then they made their way back to the camp. Sesame led, being able to see better in the darkness than he could.

They retired to the nest and settled again for sleep. But then he heard something else. It was a faint call. “Umlaut!”

“Go away, Metria,” he said. “I'm on to you.”

“Metria! Has she been annoying you again?”

“You know you have. Trying to lead me into that thyme plant. Go away.”

“Umlaut, this is Surprise! How can I convince you?”

He began to doubt. “Tell me exactly how we met.” Because that had been in Euphoria, with no magic, so Metria couldn't have been there or seen it.

“You were walking along the path, eyes downcast. I was standing there, but you didn't see me. You were looking for someone small. I said, 'Hello, I'm up here,' and then you saw me and were embarrassed, so I kissed you.”

But then he remembered that he had challenged her that way before and gotten the same answer. That time she had been genuine, but Metria might have overheard that and used it this time. He needed another way.

“Okay, Surprise. You're you. Let's summon the stork together.”

“Umlaut!” she cried. “We can't do that!”

He was satisfied. “It is you. I knew the real you wouldn't do it.”

“Actually, that's not quite it.”

“What?”

“I couldn't do that now. But if I could, I'd be tempted.”

“You mean if you were of age?”

“I mean if I were in a real nymphly body.”

“But I was only trying to be sure you weren't Demoness Metria. She'd have agreed instantly.”

“I know. And I don't want her to fool you. But you need a better test.”

Umlaut was uneasy. “How did you get here this time? I thought you had run out of options.”

“Not quite. I'm here in ectoplasm.”

“In what?”

“It's a magical substance a person can send out, thicker than a soul, that can float and shape itself into different things. It looks weird, so it's better in the dark. I'm using it to talk to you, but I'd rather you didn't see me.”

“But if you're really you—”

“I'm really me, but at the moment I would look like hanging intestines. So I don't want you to see me or touch me, just talk with me. I love you.”

“And I love you,” he said. “But—”

“Are you sure I shouldn't take some aging elixir? So we can marry now?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted. “But I think it's better to wait. If we can manage it.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed reluctantly. “But I'll be very disappointed if something prevents it, after all that waiting.”

“Yes. But we can stay in touch, if we find a way.”

“I really am about out of ways to get to you.”

BOOK: Up In A Heaval
5.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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