Knot Gneiss (12 page)

Hilarion and Jumper in human body started to freak, then paused, confused. Because there was nothing there. Her skirt looked full from outside, but was empty inside. No feet, no legs, no panties. Just air.

Then Wenda realized that Angela’s legs must be invisible. “May I?” she asked, extending her hand.

“You may,” the angel said with a sad smile.

Wenda put a hand where there should be an ankle. Her fingers closed on air. She tried for a knee. Still nothing. Then for a thigh. Air. Finally she reached all the way up to where there had to be a juncture of the legs. No juncture.

“How can you walk?” Dipper asked.

“Like this,” Angela said. She got up from her seat, moved to the aisle, and walked along it. Her skirt flexed with the apparent motion of her hips and legs, but there was nothing below it. It was as if she were floating.

“Like a ghost,” Jumper said.

“Even a ghost is more real here than I,” Angela said. “Because I will not be able to remain here. I have only one month to achieve a legitimate presence here. Then I must either return to Heaven, where I will be purged of all my memories of Beauregard, or fade away into oblivion. Of the two, I think I would prefer the latter.”

“Purged of your memory of love,” Hilarion said, interested for a reason the angel would not understand.

“Yes. Heaven will take me back, provided I am purged. But I don’t think I want to return to that sterile existence.”

“Kiss me.”

Angela was startled. “I couldn’t do that. I love Beauregard.”

Wenda understood the prince’s request. He wanted to ascertain whether she could be his bethrothee, by which she would definitely have a place in Xanth. His kiss could save her. “Trust me,” she said. “Do it.”

Confused, reluctantly, Angela proffered her face to be kissed. Hilarion kissed her. Then he drew back. “You are not she,” he said with regret.

“Not who?”

“Not his fiancée,” Wenda said. “He will know her when he kisses her. But you are not she, so he can’t help you become real.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Angela said uncertainly.

“A month,” Meryl said. “How much of it have you used so far?”

“Three weeks.”

The six of them circulated a glance. The angel had only one week remaining to achieve her desire.

“This does not look good,” Dipper said. “But I have an idea.”

“That is one more than I have,” Angela said. “I have been traveling Xanth, hoping to find a way, but without even half a modicum of success.”

“Change places with me.”

She looked at the bird. “I could not perch on Wenda’s shoulder.”

“I have been looking for meaning in my life,” the bird repeated. “I think I can find it by giving you your chance. Take my place in our Quest. It is far more likely to help you than just riding the trollway.”

“It surely is,” Angela agreed. “Whatever the nature of your Quest. But I couldn’t ask you to sacrifice yourself in this manner.”

“Do they have birds in Heaven?”

“Actually, they don’t, apart from birds of paradise,” Angela said. “I’m sure you would be the center of attention there. But—”

“Then let me go there. It is something I want to do. Not because I care about Heaven—it obviously is not a birdly place—but because I think this is why I was sent to join the Quest. To reserve a place for you. Because you need that place more than I do.”

“If you’re sure—”

“I am. This is my destiny.”

Angela looked at Wenda. “Could you agree to this? I would love to join your company. You seem like nice folk.”

Another glance circulated, and landed hard in Wenda’s left eye. “Yes,” she agreed. “You may join us.”

“Oh, thank you!” Angela turned to Dipper. “Here is my ticket to Heaven. Hold it and will it to activate, and you will be there.”

The bird took the ticket in his beak. Then he vanished.

“But now you can’t return,” Wenda said belatedly.

“I didn’t want to anyway. I only hope that regardless of my fate in a week, I can help you achieve your goal.”

“We hope so too,” Jumper said.

Then they acquainted Angela with their Quest, quietly so as not to be overheard by other passengers in the bus, and she came to see Princess Ida as she was. “I thought you suffered from Crone’s Disease, but that’s not so. You are the connection!” she exclaimed. “I see the next world around your head!”

“You do,” Ida agreed. “Crone’s Disease can only be reversed if a Bellyaching Old Crone discovers a young boy or two to fall in love with her.” She sighed. “I am not interested in youths. I might be able to help you return to Heaven, if you wish.”

The angel’s delicate jaw firmed. “No. I will not return. I must make it here, or not at all.”

“In that case, we all hope for the best,” Wenda said. “I hope that we are able to help you find whatever it is you need.”

The others returned to their prior seats. Wenda and Angela, now silent, couldn’t help overhearing their brief dialogues.

“That was very interesting,” the woman next to Meryl remarked. “I am Epi Nephrine. I stimulate hearts. But I don’t believe I could affect a nonexistent heart.”

“But it’s nice of you to consider it,” Meryl agreed politely.

“I am Prof Philactic,” the man next to Jumper said. “Storks avoid me. But stork attention does not seem to be the angel’s problem.”

“Not at present, Professor,” Jumper agreed.

Hilarion resumed his seat beside a robot, who issued a series of dots and dashes.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Morse code,” Hilarion said.

The robot looked disappointed, but apparently was unable to speak any other way.

Angela looked out the window. “The scenery is not at all like Heaven,” she remarked. “I see those animals eating those plants, but have no idea what either animals or plants are.”

Wenda looked. “Those are cereal killers feasting on wild oats,” she said.

“And that smart-looking tree, with all the people gathered around it?”

“That’s a Pundit Tree,” Wenda said. “It is full of wisdom.”

“What about that one whose fruit people are eating while trying to burn it? That seems like odd behavior.”

“That’s a Tree Sonus whose fruits are candied dates.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you haven’t been in Xanth long enough. Puns abound. Tree Sonus is Treasonous, and the candied dates are candidates. They stir up some fiercely negative emotions.”

“You really know trees!”

“I do,” Wenda agreed. “I’m a wouldwife. Would is my nature.”

Conversation lapsed, and they snoozed as the long ride continued.

Wenda woke as the bus slowed. They were arriving at Lake Ogre Chobee. Hastily she got up and went to ask the driver for transfers, so they could transfer to a boat. She had almost forgotten that detail.

Armed with the transfer tickets, they debussed and stood at the shore of Lake Ogre Chobee. This was a vast shallow sea with toothy chobees swimming in it. No ogres were around, fortunately.

Wenda saw how Angela seemed to float just over the ground, her full skirt not quite touching. She had wings and could fly, but this was walking. The skirt flexed subtly as if being governed by moving legs. The overall effect was appealing.

There was a pier projecting into the lake, but no boat. What were their transfers good for?

Then Wenda spied a booth similar to the one the troll had used. She would inquire there.

But inside it was an ogre. She hesitated to approach it. “I will go,” Jumper said. “It may be that the ogres handle the river traffic.”

He went, and in one and a half moments confirmed it. The ogre spread their transfers on his table and pounded his hamfist on them, once. Now they were stained with streaks of dirt: they had been duly canceled. “Wait to float, morning boat,” he said.

“Morning?” Wenda whispered. “We need a suitable place for the evening.”

“We are a party of six,” Jumper said smoothly. “Four of whom are women. Where can we stay overnight?”

“Park your butts in yonder huts,” the ogre said gruffly, pointing with a hamfinger.

They looked. There were several small cabins. Those would do. They selected two, one for the women, one for the men. Then they looked for somewhere to eat.

“There’s a prospect,” Meryl said, fluttering her wings. “Crossbreed Corner.”

Wenda could appreciate why that would interest Meryl, who was a crossbreed. But was it really suitable?

Meryl went to inquire, then beckoned them in. It was a restaurant specializing in seafood. The proprietor was Nara Crossbreed, a composite of a six-species ancestry: human, sea serpent, nymph, brassie, dragon, and ogre. She could assume any combination of creatures in her heritage, but for now resembled a long-haired nymph with clawed dragon wings. Her talent was to summon water from any spring, into any container.

“What will you have?” she inquired when they were seated at the counter with tall glasses before them. “Healing elixir? Love spring water?”

“No!” Wenda cried.

The others laughed, and she realized it was a joke.

“We do carry tea,” Nara said. “But right now the bags are being totaled, so they’re not available.” Indeed, Wenda saw the tea-totaler totaling the tea bags to the side.

Nara conjured fresh ordinary water into their glasses, then took their food orders. Naturally Angela had angel food cake. It took Jumper and Hilarion a while to decide, because they were distracted by Nara’s plunging décolletage, so Wenda ordered for them: humble pie. Not that they would appreciate her return joke.

Seven grizzled mining dwarfs entered and ordered hard drinks. There were several rocky bottles on the shelf, really hard stuff, but Nara refused. “You know miners aren’t allowed hard liquor,” she told them. Disappointed, they departed.

Nara delivered the pies, leaning gracefully forward. The men went comatose again, until she turned away. Then Hilarion returned to life. “Kiss me.”

“Why should I do that?” Nara inquired.

“To ascertain whether you are the one.”

Nara paused, perhaps contemplating a sharp retort. Then, observing his handsomeness, she leaned quickly across the counter and kissed him before he had time to freak out all the way from the view of her front. Stars radiated out from that contact like hot sparks.

But it was not to be. “You are not the one,” he said with surpassing regret.

“Not the one for what?” she asked, faintly miffed. It had after all been a sparkling hot kiss.

“Not my betrothee. I can’t marry you.”

“Is that all? Have you any idea how many of my male customers want to marry me?”

“All of them,” Wenda said, making a shrewd guess.

“All of them,” Nara echoed. “So why should you be the one?”

“He’s a prince,” Meryl explained. “He was betrothed when he was two years old, to a princess who was age one at the time.”

“Oh.” Nara was evidently reconsidering. “I don’t remember any such event, but if I was in my nymphly form at the moment, I might have forgotten. Maybe we should kiss again, just to be sure.” She leaned forward once more.

“No need,” Wenda said quickly. Of course she wasn’t jealous; she was married. “Unless you are twenty-one now.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“So it couldn’t have been you.”

“Actually—” Hilarion began.

“No need,” Meryl agreed just as quickly. Naturally she wasn’t jealous either, even if Nara was a prettier crossbreed, complete with legs instead of a tail, at least at this moment.

Ida and Jumper stayed out of it, and Angela merely observed, perhaps learning more about Xanthly interactions.

In due course they retired to their cabins. They even had illusion boxes showing scenes of Xanth. All part of the service of the trollway. Wenda was impressed.

“You seem like such nice people,” Angela said. “I am enjoying your company, even if it is my last week of existence.”

“I’m just a forest nymph who got lucky,” Wenda said.

“What was it like, living in the forest?”

“It wasn’t much, actually. I had to be wary of men, because they wanted only one thing and I didn’t want to give it. I had a pet chuck made of would, like me, called Wouldy, and—”

“A what?” Angela asked.

“She used to speak in the forest dialect,” Meryl explained. “Now a spell blocks that. She is trying to say her pet was Woody Wood Chuck.”

“Oh, I see,” Angela said, though she didn’t seem to see very clearly. “She certainly knows her trees.”

“I will show you some tomorrow, if we have time,” Wenda said.

“That would be nice.”

They went to sleep watching a Big Band, which was a huge rubber band that vibrated to play popular music.

In the morning they rejoined the men and went to the pier. There was a boat there, but it was almost invisible. “I believe that is an air boat,” Ida said. “It is made of compacted air, and is very light. It should be safe to use.”

“But it’s invisible!” Wenda protested. “I would not feel safe in it.”

“I, too, have a certain insecurity,” Hilarion said. Wenda flashed him a smile, appreciating the young man’s support.

They went to the restaurant to inquire. “There’s a new boat every hour,” Nara said. “You’ll have time for breakfast before the rowbot arrives.”

Now it was Wenda who feared she had misheard. “Rowboat?”

Nara set a pile of pancakes and another of waffles before them. The pancakes looked like pans made of batter, and the waffles tended to shift positions, but they were good enough. “No, it’s a robot boat. Stout and reliable.”

“That’s the one we want,” Wenda agreed.

After breakfast, there was still a little time before the boat arrived, so Wenda took Angela for a walk at the fringe of the untamed forest beyond the way station. The first big tree was magnificent, but their feet started to slip as they approached it. “Slippery Elm,” Wenda explained.

“Ah, now I comprehend.”

The next tree had many furrly little flowers and made a mewing sound. “Pussy Willow,” Wenda said. “Now we are coming to some pines.”

Another made whispering sounds. “Whispering Pine,” Wenda said. “If you listen carefully, it will whisper puns to you.”

“I think I have already encountered plenty. In Heaven we don’t have base humor; it is beneath us.”