Up In A Heaval (6 page)

When they finished the cheese, Wira returned. She had faded out without their noticing; she was very quiet. “The Good Magician will see you now.”

They followed her up a winding flight of stairs. Umlaut was interested to see how Sesame's torso bent to conform to the stairs, in a series of steps. She had a marvelously limber body.

They came to a tiny, dingy, dusky study surrounded by books. In the center was a gnomelike man on a high stool, poring over a huge tome. That was the famous Book of Answers, the secret of his power of information. “The querents are here, Father,” Wira said and faded back.

“We want to know how to save Xanth from the Red Spot,” Umlaut said.

The gnome looked up. “Deliver the letters.”

“The zombies are doing that,” Umlaut said. “What about the Red Spot?”

Humfrey didn't answer. His eyes were back on the tome.

Wira reappeared. “That is the Answer,” she murmured.

“The Answer? It sounds more like the Service.”

“That, too,” Wira agreed. “Now you must go. He gets grumpy when visitors linger too long.”

Soon they found themselves back with the Gorgon, who seemed like a far more reasonable figure compared to the magician. “He didn't tell us how to stop the Red Spot,” Umlaut complained, “just to deliver the letters. But the zombies are already doing that.”

“It has become your task,” the Gorgon said. “Humfrey's answers always make sense, once understood. You must do as he says, and it will work out.”

Umlaut saw that this made no more sense to Sammy and Sesame than it did to him. But what else could they do? It hadn't occurred to him that the worst of the challenges would be to figure out what the Answer meant.

Back at Castle Zombie, Breanna was surprised. “Humfrey told you to deliver the letters? And that's the Answer as well as the Service? That's even crazier than usual for him.”

“For sure,” Umlaut said with a grim smile, borrowing her phrase. “But it seems we have to do it.”

“It seems you do,” she agreed. “We'll help you however we can. We can locate the folk the letters go to, for one thing.”

“Sammy Cat can do that.”

She nodded. “I forgot about him. Well, I'll turn the letters over to you. But there's one thing—”

“We have to read them first,” he said, “so nobody else gets mad enough to hurl anything at us.”

“For sure. There was one addressed to me, so I took it. It was perfectly innocent, congratulating me on my wedding to Justin Tree and wishing us well. Nothing to make me want to throw anything at anybody. But we can't trust any of them, after the way Demon Jupiter reacted.” She brought him a package of letters. “I guess you can just carry them along with you and make a big circle route, delivering them more efficiently. But this is going to be a big job, regardless, with a whole lot of traveling.”

“Well, we did want to travel,” he said bravely.

“You will certainly do that! Those letters go all over Xanth. Which one will you start on?”

Umlaut was at a loss. “I haven't thought about that. I don't even know to whom they go.”

“Maybe just close your eyes and pick one.”

“There should be more design to it than that, I think. Some must be more pressing than others. But which ones?”

Sesame nudged his elbow. He looked at her. “You have an opinion? Let's have it.”

They went into nineteen questions, and he got her point: The letters were not necessarily important in themselves but as a mechanism to discover how to stop the Red Spot from obliterating Earth and Xanth. So they should look for that letter, not a random one.

“Good point,” Umlaut said. “But I still have no way of judging which the key letter is.”

“Ask Sammy,” Breanna suggested.

He turned to the cat. “Sammy, where is the letter with the Answer?”

But the cat turned his back and settled down on a zombie pillow for a snooze.

“That's his way of saying he doesn't know,” Breanna said. “Cats don't like to admit ignorance. Maybe it's not in a letter but in something that will be discovered when the letter is delivered.”

“So we're back to circle one,” Umlaut said morosely.

But Sesame had another idea. After about fourteen questions he got it: “The Zombie Master! He must know, because the letters are being delivered to Castle Zombie. It must be something that got set up before and fell in the crevice.”

A puff of smoke appeared. “Fell in the what?”

“Cleft, chink, slit, flaw, rift—”

“Crack?” the cloud inquired, forming into a head with a face.

“Whatever,” Umlaut agreed crossly. “Hello, Metria.”

The rest of the body formed, heaves and all. “So what are you up to now?”

Umlaut had caught on to her nature. If he tried to pretend it was nothing, she would be assured that it was something. Then she would stay around, exercising his helpless eyeballs until they smoked. So he told the truth, hoping it would bore her so that she would depart. “We're delivering letters.”

“Why bother?”

“The Good Magician says this will solve the problem of Demon Jupiter's Red Spot.”

“Oh, that. Utterly drilling.”

“Utterly what?”

“Boring!” Breanna said quickly. “Now if you're not going to help, why don't you seduce him and be done with it.”

“Never!” The demoness faded out.

Umlaut stared at her. “You told her to seduce me?”

“You have to know how to handle her. She was trying to do that, so I told her to do it, so she reversed, a victim of her own perversity. But that dodge won't work again. You'll have to figure out some other gimmick. Meanwhile, get on your way to Princess Ida.”

“But I thought we had decided to start with the Zombie Master.”

“He's now residing at his retirement home, Zombie World. That's the nth Moon of Ida.”

“The whath moon?”

“It's so far along the chain that we don't know what number it is in the series. But he set up a shortcut to it, or at least a marked path. Princess Ida will set it up for you. In fact, I think there's a letter to her in the pile; you can drop two stones with one bird.” She handed him a knapsack. “I put the letters in here. Remember, read each one before you deliver it, just in case.”

“Princess Ida,” he agreed, salvaging what he could of this as he donned the knapsack. “Where is she?”

Sammy launched out of his nap and headed for the horizon.

“Castle Roogna,” Breanna said. “That way.” She pointed after the cat.

“Wait for us!” he cried, running after Sammy. But he was already far behind. How had Jenny Elf ever managed to keep up with this feline?

Sesame slithered beside him, traveling far more readily through the mixed brush. She gave him a look and a nod.

Taking the hint, he emulated a light serpent rider and jumped on her back. His hands clung to her sleek scales, and she formed a niche to hold him in place. Then, sniffing the scent of the disappeared cat, she slithered on at a swift rate.

“Thanks!” he gasped.

They slithered rapidly through glade and forest, o'er hill and dale, and across a river or two. It all went by so rapidly he hardly had time to assimilate it.

Until they came to a third river. There was something swimming in it that Sesame didn't understand, so she stopped at the bank. She could scare back sharks or allegations, but it wasn't smart to swim with an unknown menace.

But it turned out to be a boy. He spied them and waded out. He had gills on his neck and fins on his arms and legs, but these faded as he came ashore. “My name's Kiel,” he said. “I have the talent of adaptation. When I want to swim, I grow gills and fins; when I want to fly, I grow wings.”

“I'm Umlaut, with the talent of emulation. But I can't take it nearly as far as you can. I just halfway look the part; I'm not real. It is similar with Sesame here.”

“Too bad,” Kiel said. He dived back into the water, forming gills again as he did.

They concluded that the water must be safe and swam across. Umlaut was a bit jealous of those who had more substantial talents than he did, but he didn't want to say so.

Soon a fancy castle hove into view. This was surely Castle Roogna, famed residence of King Dor and Queen Irene. Umlaut wondered whether there would be three challenges to get into it, but that turned out not to be the case.

Sammy ran right past the snoozing moat monster and into the castle, and Sesame slithered after him. Three little girls appeared, looking to be about six years old. One had a nice green dress, another a brown dress, and the third a red dress, and their hair seemed to match. All three wore cute little crowns.

Sammy tried to run past them, followed closely by Umlaut and Sesame, but one hummed a melody, the second played a harmonica, and the third beat on a little drum. Suddenly a magic web held the three visitors in stasis. This was strong magic.

“Who are you?” the first asked. Then she answered her own question. “Sammy Cat!”

Everybody knew Sammy!

The magic eased, turning them loose. “And I'm Umlaut, and this is Sesame Serpent,” Umlaut said, completing the introduction. “We're looking for Princess Ida.”

“We're the three princesses, Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm,” the second child said.

“You don't want to eat Aunt Ida, do you?” the third asked, looking at Sesame.

“We just want to give her a letter,” Umlaut said quickly. “And visit Zombie World.”

“Oh, that's all right,” the first princess said. Umlaut thought she must be Melody, because they seemed to speak in turns, as she was the first to have spoken and the first one named.

“She's nice,” the one who must be Harmony said.

“Next door down,” the one who must be Rhythm said. Sammy took off again.

“Thank you, Princesses,” Umlaut said, hurrying after the cat.

The princesses faded out, literally. Umlaut was sure they weren't demons, but they evidently had some magic tricks.

The door opened as they reached it. A sensible-seeming adult woman stood there. She wore a conservative crown too. A tiny sphere revolved around her head. “Princess Ida?” Umlaut inquired somewhat breathlessly.

“Indeed,” the woman agreed.

“We—”

“The princesses told me,” Ida said. “Do come in.”

Thus they found themselves in her small chamber. Sesame coiled tightly to fit.

“We have — ” Umlaut began again.

“A letter for me? How nice!”

“Only—”

“You have to read it first? Be welcome.”

Princess Ida seemed to have a pretty good grasp of the situation. Umlaut took off the knapsack and sorted through it until he found the letter addressed to PRINCESS IDA, CASTLE ROOGNA, LAND OF XANTH.

This was embarrassing. He should have looked at the letter before coming here, but somehow there had been no time. "It's be-“

“There can be severe negative reactions,” the princess said. She handed him a simple letter opener.

“Uh, yes.” He slit open the letter and unfolded the single sheet of paper within. “Uh, maybe if I read it aloud.”

“That will be fine,” Princess Ida agreed.

Umlaut remained embarrassed, but there was nothing to do but plow on. He cleared his throat and read:

Dear Princess Ida,

Despite your living in Xanth and me in Mundania, I believe we have a great deal in common.

Around your head orbits Ptero. On that planet is Pyramid, Torus, Cone, Tangle, and who knows how many others.

I too have worlds swirling around, only luckily they are on the inside and not visible. If others were to see them, I would immediately be institutionalized by medical “experts” and labeled as “mentally challenged” (being encouraged to think deeper is a good thing, but the term recently has been given negative connotations). If that didn't happen, the other probability would result in my being incarcerated in some creepy government scientific laboratory where they would perform numerous unspeakable “tests” on my brain. Using an understated summary: Mundania is weird.

My world is concepts, or complex thoughts and ideas. One of them is called Creative Chaos. Many people live there; some of the most important are named Character, Imagination, Mythology, Dreamer, and Designer. Another world is called Hort City, in which resides all the plant life of this portion of Mundania. One is called Literature. There dwell all the great and mighty words of past centuries, as well as ones that have come to be today. There are many, many more. Vestiges' of everyone of our realm who ever lived, or ever will exist, are there.

This all requires a great deal of controlled organization. At times worlds are permitted to merge and run amok. Then a new manifestation is created. This one is called Stress—a very common affliction here in Mundania, yet one to be avoided at all costs.

Though my various worlds are populated by an infinite number of beings, I am thankful that there are no actual real visitors. If others intruded, I fear the Stress Sector would become a dictator state. I admire your coping abilities.

Sincerely, Arjayess

Umlaut looked up. “That's the whole of it. Seems like a nice enough letter. No cause to hurl anything.”

“Indeed not,” Princess Ida agreed. “Yet I commend your caution, for we certainly don't want any more mischief thrown our way.”

“You seem like a nice person,” Umlaut said. He realized he was being patronizing. “I mean, for a princess.” That was worse. “Uh—”

Princess Ida laughed. “Thank you. I see you encountered the three mischievous little princesses.”

“Yes,” he said gratefully. She had nicely defused his clumsiness, making it seem as if he had reason to question the niceness of princesses. She was a nice person. “Um, if you don't mind my asking, just what is your magic talent?”

“Let's hold that answer in abeyance for the nonce,” she said. “Now you must go on to deliver the Zombie Master's letter. That will be a bit more complicated.”

“Uh, yes,” he agreed. “The letters were found in Castle Zombie, so we thought maybe he would know something about them.”

“Surely he will,” she agreed. She was a very agreeable person. She glanced at Sammy and Sesame. “With Sammy to locate the Zombie Master or Millie the Ghost once you reach Zombie World, and Sesame to facilitate travel there, you certainly seem to have planned well for this expedition.”

Of course he hadn't planned it at all; it had just happened. “Well—”

“I don't wish to bore you, but I need to be certain you understand the refinements of this particular expedition,” Princess Ida continued. “You see, you will not be able to visit that realm physically. Only your three souls will travel there. Your bodies will be safe here, of course, and most of your souls.”

Umlaut wasn't sure he liked the sound of this. “Most of?”

“There is a series of worlds, each rather smaller than the prior, so less of your soul is required. By the time you reach Zombie World, the amount is almost infinitesimally tiny. So the great majority of your souls will remain with your bodies. But do not be concerned—you will be fully aware and real on Zombie World. When it is time to return, merely concentrate on that, and you will very soon awaken here, your mission accomplished.”

“But if there are so many worlds, how can we ever find our way?”

“Sammy will lead you. Fortunately the Zombie Master prepared a shortcut route for visitors to follow. He felt that necessary because zombies are not necessarily the most alert folk, and he did not want them to become lost. They go there to retire, not to wander endlessly in foreign worlds.”

“Uh, yes.” Umlaut found this more confusing than he cared to admit. “I wouldn't want to get lost.”

“Wouldn't it be awful if one lost its way in a comic strip! All those dreadful puns. Zombies don't have much of a sense of humor; that portion of their brains is among the first to rot out.” She paused reflectively. “I wonder whether that is the problem with those notorious cri-tics? A rotting of their brains. That would account for a lot.”