Air Apparent (13 page)

“I’m only thirteen!” Wira could feel her blush.

“Teens can have boyfriends. They just have to stay clear of the Adult Conspiracy restrictions.”

“Would taking off my bra be allowed for a boyfriend?”

“Absolutely not.” Then Wira reconsidered. “But you are a centaur now. They don’t practice the Conspiracy among themselves; it’s largely a human convention.”

“But I’m human, whatever my present form.”

“Say, you’re turning a pretty shade of red,” Nimbus said, noticing. “I didn’t know centaurs could do that.”

It was time to distract him. “Maybe we could play a game,” Wira suggested. “To pass the time until we get sleepy. Maybe charades.”

“I know!” Nimbus said. “Let’s play my father’s favorite game. Nimbi.”

He wasn’t aware how close he had come to giving away his identity. Nimby played nimbi?

“Let’s,” Ilene agreed. “How is it played?”

“Matchsticks,” he said. “Lay them in rows. Try to pick up the last one.”

“But we have no matchsticks,” Debra said.

“Sure we do,” the boy said. “There on the mantelpiece.”

Debra tried to pick one up, but her hand passed through it. “Those are illusion, part of the decoration.”

“No problem,” Ilene said. She went to pick them up, and they were real.

The boy laid out fifty matches in five rows of ten each. He and Ilene played the first game. The rule was that a player could pick up any number of sticks in a row or column, as long as there were no gaps in it.

The boy took the top two in the third column. That left the top two rows with two matches and seven matches, and the bottom three with ten matches. Ilene took the whole third row out. That left a gap in the middle of each column. They kept playing until there were only five matches left, two, two, and one. It was Nimbus’s turn. “I win,” he said, taking the single match.

Ilene studied the situation. “If I take a set of two, you will take the other set and win. So I’ll take one match.”

“I still win,” he said, and took a single match from the other set. That left two isolated matches. She took one, and he took the last, winning.

“If you had seen that coming,” Debra said, “you could have set up a winning combination.”

“He was thinking ahead of me,” Ilene said ruefully.

“I learned from Dad,” Nimbus said brightly. “He always wins.”

Debra played a game against Nimbus, and lost. Then Wira did, and lost. Then they tried a game with four players, and that messed up the boy’s concentration, and Ilene won. They played several more games, and each person won at least once.

By that time they were tired and relaxed enough to sleep. Wira lay down on one bed, while Ilene lay on another with Nimbus, who did not want to be alone. Debra slept standing on her four feet; that was more comfortable for her.

Yes, it had been a fine day, and she had learned things that were worthwhile. She had also added the boy Nimbus to her party, and she suspected that he was the reason for the clue. He must play some part in accomplishing her mission. He was after all the son of Demon Xanth. That was a phenomenal development.

But she hardly seemed closer to finding Hugo. That quietly pained her.

GOBLINS

At least now we have some clues,” Happy Bottom said. “They may not lead anywhere, but they’re better than nothing.”

“They’ll help us find Father,” Fray said hopefully.

“Surely so,” Happy agreed. But Fray could tell that her mother was humoring her, because she was only nine years old and couldn’t handle the ugly realities of adulthood.

“What’s the first clue, Mother?”

“Peeve.”

Oops. What had she done now? She had to try to keep her mother in a good mood, because Happy Bottom could blow up into a terrible storm in hardly more than two and a half moments. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“Not you, dear. The peeve is a thing, not a mood. It’s a bird. Somehow it relates.”

“A bird?” Fray liked birds; they flew through her substance and sometimes she played with them, tossing them about.

“A nasty bird. It stays at the Golem residence.”

“The Golems!” Fray repeated. “Grundy Golem—isn’t he the one who insults us as we float by, so we try to tag him with lightning, but he always ducks inside the house and escapes?”

“The same. As peevish as the bird. Fortunately his wife Rapunzel Elf is very nice; maybe we can talk to her.”

“Rapunzel! Isn’t she the one who sits out on the bank and lets her long hair waft out to dry in the wind? I like her.”

“Then you may talk to her. Maybe she will know why the peeve is a clue.”

“Yes! She will help if she can.”

“Fortunately the wind is right, so we can float there now.”

“Goody!”

They diffused into their cloud forms and floated up into the sky. Fray always loved floating; there were so many things to see as she drifted over the Land of Xanth, and the warm air currents were comfortable. The terrain was like a tapestry, with forests and farms and hills and dales. Each had its own air currents and smells. The landscape was endlessly interesting.

They passed over a lake. There were waves on it, and these intrigued her. “Who it is waving at, Mother?” she asked in gaseous cloud talk.

Happy seemed amused. “At you, dear. Maybe it wants you to wet on it.”

“Oh, I will!” Fray focused her energy and squeezed out a nice wetting before she floated away from the lake. She hoped the lake appreciated her effort.

“And there is a parade,” Happy said.

“Oh, I know what to do with that!” Fray exclaimed. “Father taught me.”

“He taught you well,” Happy agreed.

They focused, and as they floated over, they rained on the parade. The odd thing was that the folk below did not seem thrilled. Didn’t they know that a parade was a summons for rain? Some folk just didn’t appreciate the favors clouds did them.

In due course they came to the Golem residence. Now they condensed to their solid forms, because solid folk had trouble understanding normal cloud talk. As solid woman and solid girl, they went to the solid door and knocked. “Remember, we must try to get along with the disagreeable golem and bird,” Happy cautioned her.

“I’ll try,” Fray promised, adding her knock. It was funny the way a solid banging into a solid made a noise.

“It’s unlocked, airhead!” a voice called from inside.

Happy opened the door. There on a perch perched the peeve: a small green bird with a sour expression on its beak. “I am Hurricane Gladys,” Happy said. “You must be the pet peeve.”

“What’s it to you, soggy bottom?” the bird demanded peevishly.

“And this is my daughter Fray. Where is Rapunzel?”

The bird eyed Fray. “Fray—does that mean a good fight? You must be a little terror.”

“Thank you,” Fray said, flattered.

“Are you too dull to know an insult when you hear it?”

“Yes,” Fray agreed.

The bird, discommoded for some reason, turned back to Happy. “Rapunzel and Grundy are out visiting their daughter Surprise and granddaughter Prize. I am holding the fort. What the bleep do you want?”

“Don’t curse in front of the child,” Happy snapped.

“It got bleeped out, prude. You didn’t answer my question.”

“We’re looking for my father, Fracto,” Fray said. “He disappeared, but Wira gave us some clues where to look for him. One clue is you.”

The bird was flattered, and for the moment unable to formulate a worthwhile insult. “I’m a clue? I’m clueless.”

“We don’t know what it means,” Fray said. “But you must know.”

“How the bleep—uh, bloop—should I know?” the peeve demanded.

“Because you must be Xanth’s smartest bird.”

The peeve opened its beak, but still couldn’t work up a decent insult. “That’s not true. The Simurgh is the smartest bird, followed by her son Sim. But I will ponder; maybe there is reason I was identified.”

At that point Rapunzel arrived home. She was an older yet still lovely human woman, with tresses that framed her head and body. “Why hello,” she said, her hair flaring appreciatively. “Visitors?”

“Two windbags,” the peeve said, reverting to form. “Glad Bottom and Fray Cloud.”

“The Good Magician’s daughter-in-law Wira gave us some clues where to find our lost male, Fracto,” Happy Bottom said. “The first one was the peeve. We’re not sure why.”

“What is the second one?” Rapunzel asked.

“Gwenny Goblin.”

“Have you ever been to Goblin Mountain?”

“Never. We have stayed largely in the air hitherto.”

“Then that’s it: goblins are dangerous. But the peeve knows Gwenny; she was the one who arranged to bring it here. The peeve can introduce you.”

“Goblins are dangerous?” Fray asked.

“The males are. But the peeve can handle them. We’ll have to give you the bird.”

“Lend them the bird,” the peeve corrected her.

“Of course, peeve,” Rapunzel agreed as she fetched it a cracker. “Prize sends her regards.”

“Prize is only a year old!”

“But she likes you.”

The bird was discomfited again. “Next time you stay home and I’ll visit her.”

“By all means,” Rapunzel agreed. She was a very agreeable person. “So you can go with the Clouds, introduce them to Chiefess Gwenny Goblin, then fly back here. You’ve been wanting to get out anyway, and you know you like Gwenny.”

“I don’t like anybody!” the peeve protested.

She kissed the top of the bird’s head. “But you dislike some less, don’t you?”

That stifled the bird. Obviously Rapunzel was one of the people it disliked less. Fray could appreciate that; she seemed almost as nice as Wira.

So it was arranged. The wind remained good, so they got moving promptly. Happy and Fray diffused into cloud form, and the bird flew along with them.

Progress was slow, because the wind was slow. Soon both Fray and the bird were bored. Then a small flying dragon spied the bird, and came in for the kill.

“Leave me alone, hothead!” the peeve protested nervously.

“Handle it, Fray,” Happy said.

Fray was thrilled. She collected her vapors, whipped up some drafts, and generated a charge. Then as the dragon flew by her, she loosed a small lightning bolt at it. The bolt struck it on the tail, setting fire to it. The dragon veered crazily, jetted out black smoke, and spun out of control.

“You know,” the peeve remarked, “I could get to dislike you less, too.”

Fray knew she had made a friend. She liked that.

“You say the Simurgh is the smartest bird?” Fray asked. She had spent most of her life floating in the sky, but had not encountered this particular bird.

The peeve evidently understood cloud talk. “Yes. Wisest and oldest. She has seen the universe end and be restored three times. Her chick is Sim, who will some era inherit her position.”

“Her chick? Is he young like me?”

“Almost. He’s twelve now.”

“I wish I could meet him.”

“Maybe you can. See if you can do a Sim-ulation.”

“A what?”

“A decoy to bring him in,” the bird said patiently. “Form into the shape of a big bird.”

“Like this?” Fray wrestled her vapors into a huge bird form.

“Yes. Only bigger in the head.”

She worked at it, following the bird’s directions. And a big bird appeared, the size of a grown human being, fantastically feathered and colored, flying up to investigate the ulation.

“Sim Bird, you feathered freak!” the peeve called. “Come meet Fray Cloud!”

“Squawk?”

“Fray, daughter of Fracto Cloud. She wants to meet a smart bird. And make yourself intelligible.”

“Squawk,” Sim agreed. This time Fray understood him: “Hello, Fray Cloud.”

“Hello,” she said bashfully.

“May I inquire why you summoned me with the Simulation?”

She was worse abashed. “I wanted to meet a really smart bird. The peeve said you are.”

Sim oriented on the peeve. “Are you trying to make mischief for an innocent young cloud?”

“No. Merely entertainment along the way to see Gwenny Goblin.”

“You like her!” Sim said, amazed. “Peeve, you are becoming soft in your old age.”

“Never, poop-for-brains.”

“Mother says it started when you helped rescue Prize, the baby who liked you without reservation.”

“False, feather-face.”

“So when did it start?”

“When the Golem family gave me a good home.” Then the peeve paused, disgusted. “You tricked me! I don’t admit to liking anybody.”

“Except Grundy Golem, Rapunzel Elf, Surprise Golem, Prize Golem, and Fray Cloud.”

“False!”

“Who else, then?”

“Gwenny Goblin, Hannah Barbarian—bleep! You did it again!”

“It seems your taste is mostly for the ladies.”

“Go back to your hutch, dimwit!” the peeve said furiously. “You’re ruining my reputation.”

“I’ll never tell,” Sim said, and flew back down toward the ground.

“I won’t tell either,” Fray said, delighted to have overheard the dialogue. So the irascible bird wasn’t so bad after all. That was worth knowing.

“Well, I was bad,” the peeve said. “Before I got spoiled. But our coming encounter with the goblins will bring me back to form.”

“Are goblins really so bad?”

“Worse.” The bird hesitated, then spoke again. “When we encounter them, I will have to speak to them in their language. You must cover your ears, because of the Adult Conspiracy.”

“Just what is that?”

“It protects children from being brutalized by bad things. It’s for your own good.”

“Oh, pooh!”

“That’s what all children say,” the peeve said. “Until they grow up and join it.”

“I’ll be different.”

“They all say that too.”

Fray didn’t believe it, but saw there was no use arguing. Adults of any species always thought they knew best.

The wind changed. “We’ll have to go to land early,” Happy said. “Drop and solidify.”

“Yes, Mother.” Fray dutifully condensed, and her thickening substance slid down through the air toward the ground.

They landed at the edge of a forest, assuming human form. “Fortunately Goblin Mountain is not far,” Happy said. “We should make it by nightfall.”

There was a herd of cud-chewing creatures in the way. But before they could circle around them, a cloud of smoke formed. “Ants in rum,” it said.

“Ancient rum?” Happy asked.

“Ruminants!” the peeve snapped, landing on Fray’s now-solid shoulder. “Go away, Metria.”

“Whatever,” the smoke said crossly as it formed into a lovely human female. “What are you up to now, peeve?”

“Why don’t you go soak your smoke in creosote, demoness?” the bird said politely.

“What would two compacted clouds and a disreputable bird want with a herd of cows?”

“Nothing. Are you satisfied, word-mangler?”

One of the animals heard the commotion and came over. “Get out of here, intruders,” it said threateningly, assuming the form of a boy with a bovine head.

“Or what, bullhead?” the peeve demanded using Fray’s voice.

“Or I’ll gore you to death, you insolent girl!” the bull said fiercely.

Fray retreated, frightened. “Oops, I forgot,” the peeve muttered. “I’m not supposed to get you in trouble.” Then it spoke to the bull, again using her voice. “I’m thoroughly cowed, O horrendous creature. Please spare me.”

“Well, now, that’s more like it,” the cowboy said. “Just clear on out of here. And watch out for the curs.”

“What curse?” the demoness asked.

“It’s curfew,” the cowboy explained. “To keep the dogs away. If they break it, we have to curtail them.”

“To cut off their tails,” Metria agreed, getting it.

“Right. Now move on.”

They were glad to do so. But no sooner were they beyond the herd than the curs showed up, just a few of them, with docked tails. The cowboy evidently had not been bluffing.

“This is too dull,” Metria said, and faded out.

At dusk they reached Goblin Mountain. This was like a monstrous anthill, with many entrances and paths all across it, and goblins busily running along them doing whatever goblins did.

“Head for the main entrance,” the peeve advised Happy. “You’re too big for the lesser passages. Let me do the talking.”

A goblin guard challenged them as they approached the main entrance. “You must be reporting for brothel duty,” he said to Fray, who was closer to his size.

The peeve hopped to her shoulder as Fray dutifully covered her ears. “Who the bleep are you, snout-ugly?” it said in her voice. Fray did not let on that she could hear enough through her hands.

“Gatling Goblin, hussy. And who the bleep are you?”

“I am Fray Cloud, here to visit Chiefess Gwenny Goblin. Watch your bleeping language; I’m only nine years old. Now take us to your leader.”

“Forget it, slut. Clouds aren’t covered.” Gatling half turned his head. “Grab them, men. Take them to the interrogation chamber. We’ll torture them until they tell us the real reason they’re here. Then we’ll bake the bird and have some real fun with the clouds.”

Goblins swarmed up, laying many hands on them. Fray screamed, but in half an instant goblin hands were across her mouth, stifling her. The same was true for Happy. The peeve was saying something, but it was lost in the scuffle.

They were dragged into the tunnel, and to a deep chamber where goblins ripped off their clothing.

Fray did what came naturally: she vaporized. The goblins lost their grip on her as she converted to mist. Happy Bottom was doing the same.