Question Quest (34 page)

“Let's do it, then,” the Gorgon said as she faded out. This was, for her, only a dream, so she had dreamy powers, and evidently enjoyed them.

“But I think we owe a vote of thanks to Rose, who made this possible by bringing Humfrey here,” MareAnn said.

The others applauded. Rose blushed rose red. “Have some candied rose petals,” she said.

Humfrey looked at MareAnn. “I suppose you're going to want a ceremony,” he grumped.

“A little one will do,” MareAnn said shyly.

Try as he would, Humfrey did not manage to look entirely displeased. She had, after all, been his first love.

“Fun's over,” Jot said.

“Until the panties,” Tittle agreed.

Lacuna glanced at the twins as she followed Humfrey and MareAnn down the path toward the exit. “I realize that you are merely figments of the Demon's imagination, but you are cute and I'm almost sorry I won't be seeing you again.”

At that they both burst into wild laughter and dissolved into smoke. That bothered her. What was so funny?

The handbasket was waiting in the waiting room. The three of them climbed in. “Won't you be sorry to lose your unicorns?” Humfrey inquired.

“There are no unicorns in Hell,” she replied. “I haven't seen them in ages anyway. I will still be able to summon other equines.”

They continued to talk as the basket swung up and away, oblivious of Lacuna. She was glad for them, but what of her own life? Would she really be able to change it?

The basket slowed. Lacuna saw that it was not proceeding straight back the way she had come. Now another type of dream realm was opening out, with a yellow brick path below. Humfrey had described that.

They reached a pleasant community. There was a handsome young couple standing on the path, evidently waiting for them. It was Hugo with Wira, his blind love.

“This is where we get off,” Humfrey said. “Lacuna, you ride back to the castle. Tell them we're coming.”

“Yes, of course,” Lacuna said, surprised. But now she realized that her body was at the castle, while the other bodies were at the Isle of Illusion. They would have to take turns riding the magic carpet back after waking up.

The others got out. Introductions were proceeding as the basket bore Lacuna away. MareAnn had never met either Hugo or Wira, of course; now she would be a temporary stepmother for Hugo. It should be all right.

Then the castle came into sight. Lacuna had a lot to tell Grey and Ivy!

Lacuna saw her body lying within the temporary coffin. She climbed out of the handbasket and let go. She dropped to the coffin, through its lid, and on down into her body. She was back.

Suddenly she felt stifled. She lifted a hand to pound on the closed lid. In a moment it lifted, and there was Magician Grey Murphy peering down. “You're back!” he said. “We didn't see you.”

Lacuna sat up, feeling a bit disoriented. “I've been to Hell and back in the handbasket,” she said. “I have a whole lot to tell you. But first I have to warn you that Good Magician Humfrey is coming back; he's on his way now with his girlfriend, MareAnn, and—”

“What?” Ivy asked.

Lacuna saw that this was not going to be a simple explanation. So she plunged in. She just had time to cover the main gist and part of the minor gist (gist was the sort of stuff that needed to be covered quickly) before Humfrey's magic carpet arrived. He had evidently used a lightening spell, because all four were on it together.

Then Lacuna had to perform the introductions, because she was the only one present who had had personal contact with everyone, though some of it only through her printing of Humfrey's history. Wira was now a woman not a lot younger than Lacuna herself, but Humfrey located his youth elixir and gave her a dose; then she became her real age of sixteen. Lacuna wished she could do that! But of course youthening wouldn't do her any good; it was her whole life that was blah, not just her physical age.

She felt awkward now, for she was not really part of this group. “I should go do my service for Magician Grey now,” she murmured. “And—”

Grey took note. "But it will take time to research your Answer.”

Humfrey snorted. “Oh, I'll do it. I don't like reunions much anyway.” He stalked off toward the study, and Lacuna followed.

Humfrey squinted at the old pages. “Ah, here it is. You must take the Key to Success and go to the Mountain of Change before the Statue of Limitations runs out.” He went to a shelf and picked up a large wooden key. “Bring this back when you are finished with it.” He handed it to her.

“But—” Lacuna said blankly.

“Nonsense. The magic carpet will take you there after you deal with Com-Pewter. Be sure to return it, too.” He walked out of the study.

“But—” Lacuna said, following helplessly.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, pausing. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. But—”

“Here's the carpet. Get on it.”

She did so, bemused. Then it took off.

“But—” she protested one more time, despairingly, to no better avail than before. She was on her way.

The carpet seemed to know where it was going. It flew out a window and looped around the castle before heading north. It soon went out over the awesome Gap Chasm, but instead of crossing it, it turned to fly west along it. Then it flew south a short distance to a small mountain and looped down to a cave in the base. It entered this cave, flying unerringly in the sudden darkness until reaching a large, bright chamber. It landed.

Before Lacuna was a rather junky metallic box with knobs on the front and a pane of glass sticking up at the top. Part of it was fashioned from a pewter pitcher, which Lacuna now realized the Demoness Metria had sneaked from Humfrey's castle to bring here. It was amazing how things integrated, now that she knew Humfrey's life story. This was Com-Pewter, the dread nemesis of Xanth.

A GREETING, the pane printed.

“I think you don't know who I am,” Lacuna said, nerving herself for her effort. She had spoken blithely of changing its print, but she knew that the evil machine had a lot of power, and a doubt was starting to nag at the edge of her mind, with a qualm, a twinge, and even a compunction waiting in line behind. Com-Pewter's power was to change reality in its vicinity by printing the reality it preferred on its screen. She could change its print—but would it remain changed? Why hadn't she thought of this problem before?

I DON'T EVEN CARE WHO YOU ARE. YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY SUPREMELY DULL. I WILL USE YOU AS A SERVANT.

“I don't think so,” she said, and concentrated on the magic formula she had rehearsed to dominate the device.

The print on the screen changed. Now it said: COM-

PEWTER IS REPROGRAMMED TO BE A NICE MACHINE. IT HAS NO USE FOR THE SERVICES OF GREY MURPHY, AND RENOUNCES THEM. SAVE AND COMPILE. The last word was the key; that constituted a special spell that would change Com-Pewter's nature.

The pane of glass blinked. HUH? it printed, with something less than machinelike precision.

Lacuna had had the sense not to get off the magic carpet. “Well, I'll be going now,” she said.

Print rolled across the screen. WOMAN DECIDES TO REMAIN LONGER. And Lacuna found that she couldn't tell the carpet to go; she had indeed changed her mind. The evil machine was fighting back. In a moment it would decree that she decided to reverse the reprogramming she had just accomplished, and she feared she would not be able to deny it.

But she could fight back too. Even as the print appeared, she changed it: WOMAN IS SENT ON HER WAY BY COM-PEWTER, WHO PREFERS TIME ALONE TO MEDITATE ON ITS NEW NICENESS.

It worked! The carpet lifted and sailed down the cave tunnel, out of the mountain. Not only did Com-Pewter's print change the local reality, it changed the evil machine's mind. Once it was printed, it was so, even if the machine didn't like it. And it seemed that Com-Pewter could not reprogram itself. It was stuck with her new prime directive: to be nice and to renounce the services of Grey Murphy.

Lacuna had accomplished her mission. Now she had only to get her reward. She stared at the wooden key she still held in her hand. What had Magician Humfrey said? She had to take this Key to Success to the Mountain of Change before—before what? Something was going to happen, but she didn't remember what.

She looked around. The carpet was moving over unfamiliar territory. Lacuna had not been paying attention and was now lost. It didn't matter, because the carpet knew where it was going, but she would have preferred to know also. Was this north or south of the Gap Chasm?

The carpet circled down by a curious walled park. Somehow Lacuna couldn't quite see what was inside the park; it was obscured by trees and bits of mist. This must be where the Mountain of Change was. But what was she supposed to do there? It was all so unclear. She wished it had been Grey Murphy who had researched her Answer, because he was young and inexperienced, so tended to explain things carefully. Humfrey just assumed that everyone knew things, and had no patience. But of course he had lived a long time and experienced many things, as she well knew after printing his life history. He had a right to be short with ignorant folk.

She got up and stepped off the carpet. It rolled up behind her, but did not fly away. That was a relief. She did not want to be stranded in this strange place. It wasn't that the loss of such a dull person as she was would harm Xanth in any way, but she preferred to be dull in her own home rather than to bore folk she didn't know.

She approached the large wooden door to the park. She lifted her wooden key and fitted it into the keyhole. She turned it. The lock resisted. She turned harder, but it was no use; the key would not work.

Lacuna stepped back and looked at the park. What little she could see was not attractive. The wall was worn and the nearby trees were wilting. She saw a word printed along the wall: FAILURE. Oh, no! She had come to the wrong place!

But the carpet wouldn't have done that. This must be the right place—or maybe it could become the right place.

She focused on the word, and changed it: SUCCESS.

The wall brightened. The foliage of the trees hanging over it became greener.

She approached the door again. She tried the key. This time the lock clicked. Now this was the right place, thanks to her talent.

She tried to close the door after her, but the hinges tightened up and it no longer budged. It remained firmly open. Curious, she stepped back outside the park to see if anything else was approaching, waiting for this opportunity, but no one was.

Then the door slammed shut behind her, making a bang. She jumped. Was she locked out?

She tried her key once more. It turned, and the door opened. But again it refused to close—until she stepped outside. Now she understood: it would not close until the one who had opened it and entered the park went back out. That was a fairly neat magical device—but to what purpose? Why should the door care whether she was inside or outside? She shrugged; it was a harmless mystery. If it should close while she was inside, she could use the key to unlock it again.

She gazed around the park. Inside she saw a statue of a naked running man. He was a fine-looking specimen in every respect—muscular, handsome, and well endowed in a fashion a maiden was not supposed to understand. But of course it was only a statue; they were always idealized. She really didn't care about that particular detail; her desire was for a man who was good in his head and heart, and for good children. One of the problems with men was that they put more store by a woman's anatomy than by her head and heart. Fortunately, women had more sense, so used their minds to choose the more sensible men. But it did help if the men were handsome.

Then she became aware of something else. The statue was changing. Ever so slowly, it was moving. The forefoot was coming down and the body was shifting forward, and the hair was blowing back as if he were racing through the wind. Maybe on her scale he was barely making progress, but on his scale he was sprinting.

Where could he be going? She looked the way he was looking, and saw that it was the open door. Oh. Evidently he hoped to get out before it closed again. How lucky for him that she had happened to come long just before he reached it.

Lucky? Lacuna had learned to distrust coincidence. Maybe in Mundania chance governed, but this was Xanth. There might be more to this than appeared.

She pondered, then tried an experiment. She scuffed a mark by the man's leading foot, so she had a record of exactly where he was. Then she stepped out of the park again. The door slammed shut behind her.

She took a walk around, exploring the region. After a few minutes she returned, and used her key to open the door again. She entered, and as usual it froze in the open position. She walked to the statue.

Sure enough, he had not passed her scuff mark, though he had had time to do so. In fact, he was even a bit behind it. He had retreated during her absence, or perhaps been reset to his original position. He raced for the door only when it was open, and he had to start a certain distance from it.

But what was the point? Coincidence was not the only thing Lacuna distrusted. Pointlessness was suspicious too, especially in a magical place.

She peered more closely at the statue. Now she saw what she had overlooked before: it was on a low pedestal. Evidently the man started there, and ran off it to the door. On the pedestal was the legend: STATUE OF LIMITATIONS.

That was the other thing Humfrey had mentioned! She had to go to the Mountain of Change before the Statue of Limitations ran out. Before he ran out the door, obviously. If he got there first, the door might close behind him—and then perhaps her key would no longer work, and she would be confined in the park. Perhaps she would have to strip naked and get on the pedestal, ready to run out when the next person entered. And she might have to move as slowly as the man did, being rendered statuesque.

What an awful fate! But now she knew: she would have to complete her business at the Mountain of Change quickly, because the man was not all that far from the door. If she took too long, she would surely be lost.

So where was the Mountain of Change? It had to be here somewhere.

She spied a path behind the statue, and quickly followed it. The park was not all that large, so this had a fair chance of leading where she wanted.

She was right. Soon the mountain hove into view. It was not large as ordinary mountains went, but it glistened oddly. As she came closer, she saw that its slopes were rough with shiny little stones. Then she came closer yet, and discovered that those weren't stones, they were disks. In fact, they were Mundane coins, gold and silver and copper and brass. What was called small change.

The Mountain of Change! She had assumed that it would be a mountain where things changed, and perhaps her life would change too, so that she could somehow be fulfilled instead of deadly dull blah. She should have known better.

Still, this was supposed to represent the solution to her problem, so maybe it was both kinds of change. What was she supposed to do here?

Well, what did anyone do with a mountain? Anyone climbed it, simply because it was there. Everyone knew that. So she would climb it.

She started climbing it, but the moment her feet got on the coins, they lost purchase. Her legs did not exactly sink into the surface; it was just that she could not climb. Instead, the coins gave way below, so that she remained pretty much where she was.

But she had to climb, or the Statue of Limitations would run out before she got where she was going. She surely couldn't afford that.

She stepped back and pondered the situation. What would freeze these loose coins in place, so she could climb them?

She remembered something Humfrey's Mundane wife, Sofia, had said in passing. Frozen assets. It seemed irrelevant, yet she almost had a notion.

Her notion clarified. It turned out to be a naughty one. But she was pressed for time; that statue might reach the door at any moment. She had to try whatever might work, and quickly.

She stepped back onto the change, held her skirt tight about her legs, and sat down. The surface of the mountain was surprisingly cold; she was chilled right through the hips. Then she touched the coins around her. Sure enough: they did not budge. They were frozen in place. They could not handle this particular type of contact.

She knew she could not afford to stand up again. It was not her feet which froze the change. So she pushed with hands and feet and scooted as well as she could up the slope. It was uncomfortable and tiring, but she made decent (or perhaps indecent) progress, and the mountain was small. She was glad it hadn't been composed of large change!