Knot Gneiss (32 page)

Jumper heaved some of the fallen roof sections to the main entry, where they made a barrier.

“We should also make a battlement,” Ida said.

“A what?” Jumper asked.

“A sort of serrated wall,” Hilarion said. “Alternating high and low sections, merlons and crenels, so we can peer out between them without exposing ourselves unnecessarily. We can’t be sure how high those dogs can leap.”

“Exactly,” Ida agreed. “You know about castles.”

Hilarion shrugged. “Necessary princely background information.”

Jumper got on it, heaving tiles to the top of the walls, some high, some low. Wenda parked the Knot in the gap, heedless of its radiating resentment at being made useful, then helped heave green tiles as well as she was able.

“And weapons,” Hilarion said. “Sticks for spears, rocks for missiles. This may become ugly.” Merwyn and Meryl foraged quickly for suitable sticks and stones. There were many lying around, so the collection quickly grew.

Angela flew in with an armful of pies. “I found a pie tree just outside the Strip,” she said, dumping them down. “But those hounds are coming awfully close.”

“Man the defenses,” Hilarion said. He clambered up to the top of the wall, stood there, and drew his sword. “Oh, yes,” he muttered, gazing down.

Wenda climbed up to the top of the wall and looked out through a low spot. There were the dogs, surging through the jungle, their eyes glowing red.

“I am relieved that we don’t have to encounter those directly,” Ida said.

“It wood knot bee fun,” Wenda agreed, shuddering. One or two bites would not hurt her, but the pack of animals could tear her wood apart.

The dogs heard them. They leaped up against the wall, snarling, slaver flying. They did seem to be mindless beasts.

Ida screamed. A ravening dog had managed to scramble over the tile-blocked entrance and was menacing her from the inside of the wall.

Hilarion leaped down from the wall, sword extended. “Ho, beast!” he cried. “Depart the way you came, or perish.”

The dog whirled, understanding the challenge. There was nothing it liked better than a good fight. It leaped directly at Hilarion. Ida screamed again.

The prince’s sword moved so swiftly it was almost invisible. The dog yelped and fell to the ground, mortally wounded. It had been sliced through the neck, and its lifeblood was pouring out.

“I gave fair warning,” Hilarion said sternly.

The dog nodded, then died. Hilarion wiped and sheathed his sword, then picked the dead animal up and hurled it back over the tiles. “Any more for this route?” he called. No more came. The dogs were vicious, not stupid.

Ida looked faint. “You saved me,” she told Hilarion.

Now he was embarrassed. “I do what is needful. I regret you had to see the bloodshed.”

“So do I,” she said. “But it was instead of
my
blood being shed. That makes a difference.”

Wenda went to try to comfort Ida. It occurred to her privately that this ugly incident had been the proof that Prince Hilarion was no paper prince; he had been quite ready and able to use his sword when it was, as he put it, needful.

“I think there will be no reasoning with these animals,” Jumper said. “They seem to understand only lethal force. But we will need to divert them, if we are ever to make our way to the Strip.”

“How can we dew that?” Wenda asked.

“I wonder,” Angela said. “It may be a foolish notion—I’m not sure I have myself properly together yet, mentally—but if those dogs are a pun, maybe they escaped from the Strip.”

“They surely did,” Ida said, wincing as another leaping canine smacked into the wall just below her spot. Wenda remembered that Angela’s memory of Ida’s talent had been deleted, so she could make useful suggestions without realizing it.

“So there must be a hole in the Strip,” Angela continued. “Since the anti-puns are generally near the puns, there might be something there, similarly escaped, that could nullify the dogs.”

“I’m sure that is the case,” Ida agreed.

Wenda pounced on the moment. “Why dew yew knot fly out and see if yew can find it?”

“I will try,” Angela said.

“But do not go near the ground,” Hilarion said. “You are no longer unbiteable.”

Angela glanced at the dogs, and winced. “I won’t.” She flew up, up, and away.

Wenda made her way around the perimeter, making sure their defenses were tight. They seemed to be; the only open space was around the Knot, and the dogs were shying well clear of that.

She paused at the Knot. “Yew know, yew’re a lot of mischief,” she remarked.

It responded with a blast of sheer malice.

She was intrigued. “What wood yew dew, if a loving couple perched on yew and kissed?”

The Knot almost seemed to swell with rage. The remaining chips of reverse wood around it steamed and curled.

“I suppose I should knot tease yew,” she said. “It is knot gneiss. Yew may bee knot gneiss, but I am supposed to bee gneiss. I wood like to deliver yew to some situation yew really liked, provided it did knot harm Xanth.”

The Knot continued to radiate ire. It was having none of this sniveling dialogue.

Wenda moved on. She had difficulty understanding anything so perversely inimical. The Knot seemed to hate everything.

The defenses seemed tight. She completed the circuit just as Angela returned.

“I found it!” Angela exclaimed. “Doves of Peace!”

“I dew knot understand,” Wenda said.

“Look.”

Wenda climbed the battlement and peered out. A flock of birds was following Angela. In a moment and a half they spied the raging Dogs of War and angled down to join them.

“The birds’ll be torn apart,” Meryl said, hovering anxiously above the battlement.

But it was not so. Each Dove oriented on a particular Dog, flew down, and kissed it on the muzzle. The dog then stopped snarling and became peaceful. Soon the entire pack was wandering off through the forest, sniffing roots, tugging vines, and doing other doggy things. While the Doves, their peaceful urges dissipated, explored the ground cover, picking up seeds. Dogs and Doves had become normal.

“I dew knot quite trust this,” Wenda said. “Suppose they are pretending, so we will come out unprotected?”

Hilarion nodded. “It was a brilliant ploy, Angela, but you will surely forgive us for our caution.”

“Certainly,” the angel agreed angelically.

“I propose we remain here for the day and night,” Jumper said. “If the dogs have not reverted to war, then perhaps we can assume we can safely make it to the Strip.”

“And if we have to,” Ida said, “we can cluster close around the Knot. We are accustomed to it; we can surely move closer to it than other creatures can.”

“That seems excellent,” Hilarion said. “We can use the rest.”

They ate the pies Angela had foraged, not going outside the fort, but they were not enough. Members of the party remained hungry.

“Maybe I can help again,” Angela said. “Now that I have the rest of my substance, my beads should work.”

“Beads?” Meryl asked.

“My sash,” the angel explained, touching it. “It is made of seed pearls. They can grow into things I need.” She removed a bead, held it up, and breathed on it.

The seed pearl expanded, becoming a loaf of freshly baked bread. She breathed on another, and it became a jug of wine. Soon they were sharing bread and wine, and lemon and lime stones to flavor their cups of water, and they filled out the meal very well.

Angela also found some soapstone, and they passed the bar around so that each could wash with a basin of water.

They took turns sleeping in the afternoon, while others watched at the battlement. The snarling dogs did not return, but all of them were aware it could be a trap. Angela, Meryl, and Merwin flew out to forage, and did find some more fruits and square roots. Ida made a fire and baked the roots, and they were good enough for a square meal.

At dusk their conjugal visitors arrived. “You folk travel about,” Eris remarked. “I would have thought you had had enough of this world.”

“We have,” Wenda said. “But we did knot have much of a choice.”

Then they were separated into their private chambers. “I envy you,” Prince Charming said as he eagerly addressed her wooden and fleshly charms. “You have so much adventure.”

“Thank yew,” Wenda said, not saying that she was eager to be free of this adventure and safely home again, and with her full body. He would not understand, as he seemed not yet to have realized that any of it was missing.

In seven minutes their party was alone again, except that Merwyn remained beside Meryl, sound asleep. Jumper was also asleep, alone, though his multiple spider eyes were not closed. Things were back to normal in that respect.

Wenda took the first watch of the night, perching on the battlement and watching carefully for any dogs. She saw none. She hoped that was good news.

In due course Hilarion relieved her. “I wanted to mention my appreciation for your leadership in the crisis,” he murmured. “You did the job that needed to be done to safeguard us all.”

“Me!” she exclaimed. “Yew organized the defense!”

“After you established the parameters. You acted instantly, and that saved us all from likely mischief.”

“Thank yew,” she said, blushing. “I never thought about it. I just knew we had to get safe, quickly.”

“You are a princess. By marriage, true, but you do possess the qualities. I hope when I find my betrothee, she will have qualities similar to yours.”

Wenda couldn’t think of any response, so quickly retired to her spot on the ground so she could sleep. Part of her problem was her sudden realization that Hilarion was more of a prince than Charming was. She didn’t want to find herself wishing that Charming could be more like Hilarion. That unknown betrothee was a luckier woman than she could know.

Wenda slept. At first it was peaceful, as it normally was; her wooden mind, such as it was, was at home in the forest, and this was a kind of forest.

Then there was a disturbing element. Something was coming, and the walls were not stopping it. In fact it was a troop of ghosts. Should she be afraid?

The ghosts were male, female, and juvenile, garbed in loincloths and brief headdresses. They were handsome enough, but oddly troubled in their expressions.

“Who are yew?” Wenda asked, not fearful so much as curious and wary. Ghosts could be of any type, from nostalgic to horrendous.

“We are the May I,” their leader answered. “I am Steven Wolf, the leader of this remnant.” He made a gesture to include the several plainly adoring, lovely women beside him. “We, that is, our people, built this grand city that is now in ruins because of our folly.”

“We did knot mean to intrude,” Wenda said, finding herself mysteriously attracted to the man. “We were in trouble, and had to protect ourselves. Otherwise we wood have been destroyed.”

“You are a forest nymph!” a ghost woman said.

“I am,” Wenda agreed, turning around so they could see her full backside as well as her hollow frontside. “I am Wenda Woodwife, passing through on a special mission. I speak in the forest dialect.”

“But nymphs are typically empty-headed,” the woman said.

“My head is empty, as yew can see,” Wenda agreed. “But I have a job to dew.”

“What is that job?”

“I must deliver that Knot of petrified reverse wood to the Good Magician’s Castle, so that it can knot bee used to harm anyone.”

The May I contemplated the Knot, the women inspecting it from one side, the man from the other. “That is one sullen artifact,” Steven Wolf remarked.

“Yes,” Wenda agreed. “It seems to hate everything in its presence.”

“The opposite of my talent,” Steven said. “I attract women who are madly in love with me in my presence, but who completely forget about me when I am absent.”

“Is that true?” Wenda asked the women, surprised.

The women looked perplexed. “Is what true?” one asked.

“About you and Steven Wolf?”

“About who?”

Wenda realized that the women were standing where they could not see the man. They had forgotten him. That also explained her own attraction to him: it was his talent.

“That must bee frustrating,” Wenda said to Steven.

“It is, in death as well as life. But it is incidental. We have a serious favor to ask of you. But we must pay for it.”

“I will help anyone I can,” Wenda said. “I dew knot need to be paid.”

“Ah, but it is part of our protocol, which we can’t violate. We must come to terms.”

Wenda shrugged. “What is it yew need?”

“First you must understand our history,” Steven said, “because the favor must be done with knowledge of its significance.”

Wenda began to be concerned about the nature of the favor. If it involved touching Steven, she would have difficulty restraining herself from hugging and kissing him. So he was a ghost; this was a dream, and he would seem solid to her. It would be a violation of her commitment to Charming, and her hollow face might turn Steven off. “Then tell me yewr history,” she said, hoping that would clarify that the favor was of some other nature. Yet also guiltily hoping that it wasn’t.

The women finished their inspection of the Knot and circled it to rejoin the man. “Steven!” one exclaimed, delighted. “How could we have forgotten you!”

Then all three of them were clustering about him, one kissing him on the face while another hugged him from the side and the third patted his rear rather more intimately than seemed appropriate in public.

Wenda held her place, though she desperately wanted to join them. It was as though he were a big magnet, and she made of metal rather than wood. The pull was fierce.

Steven sat on a fragment of tile, the women sitting closely around him. Wenda noticed that their loinskirts barely covered their full bottoms in that position, and that if Steven had looked, he would have seen inside their flexed thighs to their panties. Assuming they wore any. But his gaze was fixed on Wenda. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disconcerted. She also wished she could sit like that, but it would show the hollow frontsides of her thighs right up to her hollow belly, ruining the effect. She had in the past year become accustomed to the advantages of having a backside, notably in the presence of a man, but now it was her frontside she missed.