Cube Route (3 page)

    Another figure appeared. “Come to me,” he called. “I reduce things to simpler forms. I am Demon Volve.”

    Which would be D. Volve--devolve. Cube did not want him either, so she kept walking, with a straight face.

    A third demon appeared. “I am Louse. I hate bugs.”

    That would be D. Louse--delouse. Cube did not find that funny at all, because of her talent. Bugs could be very beneficial on occasion.

    A demoness appeared. She was absolutely lovely as she preened; she looked like a goddess. She sang a brief melody, and her voice was divine. Then she paused. “Well, aren't you going to applaud?”

    That surprised Cube. “Applaud?”

    “I am Demoness Va. I expect my due.”

    D. Va--Diva. A prima donna. Probably the only way to get rid of her was to give her the applause she craved. Cube clapped her hands together several times.

    D. Va made a bow and faded out. Cube smiled, but refrained from laughing.

    Another demoness appeared. It seemed there was a whole troupe of them. “Tell me your secrets, and I will spoil them,” she said enticingly.

    Cube couldn't figure that one out. “Who are you?”

    “Demoness Mystify.”

    Demystify. “No thanks.”

    The next demon was different. It was a fat male in a big washtub. He was scrubbing his own back with a long-handled brush. “Rub-a-tub-tub!” he sang, well off-key. He sounded intoxicated. “Rub my tub, summon me. Rub my back, I'll grant you three.” Sparkling water sloshed as he moved.

    “Really? Three wishes?”

    He looked at her. “Of course not. This stuff is alcoholic. I can't focus well enough to get myself out, let alone grant wishes. But it's a fine-sounding promise.” He belched.

    What was the pun? “Who are you?”

    “I'm a bathtub jinn.”

    Cube, surprised by the change in the code, laughed before she caught herself. And a bucket of dirty water that smelled of gin drenched her. The demon laughed so hard he and the tub exploded into smoke and dissipated.

    Well, she had been warned. Apparently the magic of the path couldn't protect her entirely from her own folly. She paused at the next stream, rinsed out her clothing and herself, put it back on wet, and let it dry on her. At least the demons hadn't stayed to laugh at her unsightly body as she rinsed.

    Her hand brushed something on her damp clothing. It turned out to be several stick-hers. She must have overlooked the stick-her bush when she took off her clothes. There were also a few stick-hims, as though the bushes hadn't been sure of her gender. Even plants rubbed in the fact that she was no lovely creature.

    Later, a small boy was standing at the edge of the path. He was staring at her midsection. “What are you looking at?” she asked sharply.

    “I see your pan-tees!” he said in a singsong voice.

    Cube refused to be fooled; she knew they were completely covered by her skirt. “No you don't.”

    “Yes I do. They're ugly. And they're wet.”

    That got to her. Her outer clothing had dried, but her underwear remained damp. “How do you know?”

    “It's my talent. I can see panties, covered or not.”

    It seemed he could. “But that's a violation of the Adult Conspiracy.”

    “Yeah,” he agreed zestfully.

    Cube was annoyed. Then she realized that when this obnoxious boy grew to manhood, his talent would cause him to be perpetually freaked out. So that situation would take care of itself. She walked on by him.

    She walked well that day, and knew she was getting close to the Good Magician's Castle. That was because there were signs along the way, saying GOOD MAGICIAN'S CASTLE TWO AND A HALF DAYS' WALK, and ONE AND A HALF DAYS' WALK. So her third day's walk should be half a day, and she'd be there.

    She felt something in her pocket. She brought it out. It was the rear-view mirror. How had that gotten there? She had given it to Ryver yesterday, and not taken it back. Had he returned it to her in the night? That seemed unlikely; she didn't think he would have done such a thing without telling her, and in any event she would have been aware if he had come close enough to do it.

    She had not been able to get rid of it before; could this be another aspect of that? She could give it to a person, but then it quietly returned to her? Magic objects could have odd properties. She'd have to try again, and stay alert. Meanwhile, she put it from her mind. At least she still had the water ball Ryver had given her.

    She passed another sign: HEADLINE. At this point she was taking signs seriously. But what did it mean?

    Then she saw a line of balls along the side of the path. Only they turned out to be heads. A head line.

    “Step over me so I can see the color of your panties and freak blissfully out,” the first head said. Then it blinked, getting a better look at her. “Cancel that.” The eyes squeezed closed.

    Cube almost ground her teeth. Even her panties were not good enough!

    Just at the right place there was another campsite. She entered it, and discovered someone else there: a winged centaur filly, with the large human breasts and handsome brown equine flanks and tail of her kind. She also wore a quiver and bow, the harness nicely framing her front. “Hello,” Cube said, surprised.

    “Hello. I am Karia Centaur. Please don't repeat my name.”

    “I am Cube Human. I'm on my way to see the Good Magician.”

    “I just came from there. It's less than an hour's flight from here.”

    “Half a day's walk,” Cube agreed. “But why are you here, since you're not landbound?”

    “I am a winged monster,” the filly agreed, though she hardly resembled a monster. “But I can't fly indefinitely, so I need a safe place to spend the night.”

    “I'm happy to share the night with you, if you're satisfied to share it with me.”

    “Of course. I don't have human company very often.”

    They handled the routine of harvesting supper and pillows for the night, then settled down in the shelter and talked. “You said you just came from the Good Magician's Castle,” Cube said. “May I ask--”

    “I'm a flying centaur, so my talent is flying. That is, flicking myself light enough to float. But I have an associated side effect that I would like to be rid of. So I went to ask the Good Magician.”

    “As I am doing. Did he help you?”

    “No.” Then before Cube could look surprised, she explained. “I didn't get to ask my Question. I did not make it through the three challenges. In fact I didn't pass the first challenge. So now I am returning to the herd with my tail between my legs, as it were.”

    “But I thought centaurs were smart.” Then Cube realized that she was being just as awkward as Ryver had been. “I mean, it must have been a formidable challenge.”

    “It was a stupid challenge, but it stymied me. It was a path that forked. One side passed close by a sticker bush that stuck me when I got close, so I had to avoid it.”

    “A stick-her bush,” Cube said. “It probably stuck only females. I encountered one of those today.”

    “Oh, a stupid pun. I hate puns!”

    “But there are puns all over Xanth; you can't avoid them.”

    “Yes I can; I fly over them. I make sure to land on pun-free terrain. It's just too awful when I accidentally step in one and get it stuck to my hoof.” The filly shuddered. “There is nothing more revolting than having to scrape squashed pun off your foot.”

    “So maybe the Good Magician was forcing you to face what you hated. That was the real nature of the challenge.”

    Karia frowned. “I suppose so. I think it was unkind of him.”

    It was apparent that the centaur had lacked the gumption to tackle something she found objectionable. That would never stop Cube, of course, but there was no point in pointing that out. “Where did the other side of the forked path go?”

    “I couldn't make head or tail of that. It terminated at a door. I opened the door, but it became a jug in my hand, and there was just a blank wall beyond it. When I moved the jug forward it became the door again, closed. It was no help at all. I was most frustrated.”

    Cube laughed. “You opened the door and made it a jar!”

    “I fail to see the humor.”

    “A jar. Ajar--open. Another pun.”

    “Oh,” the centaur said somewhat sourly. “No wonder I didn't appreciate it. In any event, it was of no use to me. So I turned around and flew for home.”

    “I wonder,” Cube said. “Couldn't you have used the jar to catch the stickers, so they couldn't stick you?”

    “I suppose I could have, had I thought of it. But I was already pretty upset, and it seemed pointless to continue.”

    “I'm sorry,” Cube said. “It must be a big disappointment.”

    “It is. I so much wanted to have a rousing good adventure, but I can't risk it as long as I have the complication.”

    “Complication?”

    “The side effect. You see, I get carried away when anyone else speaks my name. That can be extremely awkward.”

    “Another pun!” Cube exclaimed. “Karia. Carry-a! You must really hate that!”

    There was no answer. Then she saw that the centaur was floating out of the shelter. She wasn't flying; she wasn't even walking. Her four legs were folded under her as they had been in the shelter, only now she was drifting in the breeze. Her eyes were glazed, as if she were distracted and not paying attention to her surroundings.

    In fact, she was being carried away. “Oh, I'm sorry!” Cube said. “I said your name!”

    Karia continued to drift. Cube ran after her, catching at a leg. “Please, I'm sorry! Please come back!”

    The centaur opened her eyes. “Oh, did it happen again?”

    “Yes! I said your name, and you got carried away. I didn't mean to. I didn't realize--”

    “That's all right. But now you appreciate my problem.”

    “Yes I do. I won't speak your name again.”

    Karia straightened her legs and touched the ground. She walked back to the shelter. “I would like to go where nobody knows my name. Then I'd be safe. But there's always the chance I would meet someone unexpectedly, who would say my name, and then I could be in trouble. So I suppose I'll just have to stay home, where folk know to call me 'hey, you.' Not that I like that much either.”

    “That side effect--it's another pun,” Cube said. “No wonder you hate puns!”

    “No wonder,” Karia agreed wryly. “Why are you going to see the Good Magician?”

    “I want to be beautiful.”

    Karia looked at her more closely. “I suppose you aren't. I hadn't noticed.”

    “If you were a man, you wouldn't notice me at all. I want to marry and have a loving husband and a nice family and live happily ever after, but it will never happen as long as I'm homely.”

    “Oh, I'm not sure of that.”

    “You're not homely. You have a pretty face and a bosom that would make men stare even if it weren't bare.”

    “Point taken. I have not suffered that particular problem of being unnoticed. Yet I would exchange a portion of my assets with you, if I could abate my side effect.”

    “And I would gladly have that portion! If I had your breasts, no one would notice my face.”

    “Oh, I don't know. Others do notice my face, and of course my rear.”

    “Your rear?”

    “Like most centaurs, I have a handsomer posterior than face, and of course I am duly haughty about it.” Karia reached back and gave her haunch a resounding slap. “I just wish I could see it better.”

    “I have just the thing for you,” Cube said, fishing out the mirror. “Try this.”

    “I'm not certain how this relates,” Karia said, accepting it.

    “Try it and see.”

    The centaur held the mirror up before her face. “Oh, my! Can that be my rump?”

    “Yes. It's a rear-view mirror.”

    “Delightful! It's even handsomer than I thought.”

    “Keep the mirror,” Cube said.

    “Oh, I couldn't! I like it, despite the pun, but I have no return gift for you.”

    “I will be glad if you can keep it. A demoness with a speech impediment gave it to me, and I didn't want it, but I can't be free of it unless I give it away. I gave it away yesterday, but today I had it again. So it may not stay with you anyway, though I hope it does.”

    Karia considered. “In that case, I will keep it, and hope that it remains with me. If not, I will understand.” She paused. “The demoness--would that by any chance have been Metria?”

    “Yes. How did you know?”

    “She's just about the only one who interacts with humans more than briefly, usually mischievously. And she has trouble getting the right word. She doesn't hurt people, merely annoys them. This is the kind of trick one might expect of her.”

    “That's interesting.” Actually Cube had encountered several other mischievous demons, but they had departed once they tricked her into laughing and getting drenched. “But I still hope you keep the mirror.”

    “We shall see.” They composed themselves for sleep.

Good Magician

    In the morning they prepared to go their separate ways. Karia still had the mirror; she checked. Then she looked into the sky, and quailed. “Oh, no.”

    “What's the matter?”

    “The dragon's there. I had hoped it would be gone overnight.”

    “A dragon is after you?”

    “I am afraid so. That's the real reason I came here for the night, instead of to a camp closer to the home range. I knew it could not pursue me along the enchanted path.”

    “Why didn't you tell me?”

    “I did not wish to concern you. You are in no danger from it, as long as you remain on the path.”

    “But I am concerned. A dragon!”

    “You are a nice person. But you must be on your way. I shall merely wait here until the dragon tires of the pursuit.”

    “But surely you want to get home. Can you follow the enchanted path instead?”

    “I could hoof it, if the path went where I am going. But it does not. I must fly, when I can. Once I get close to home, I have a friend whose talent is to make any animal friendly for half an hour, and that will enable me to get the rest of the way in peace.”

    “I have heard that all centaurs are excellent archers. Could you shoot it with an arrow?”

    Karia glanced down at her harness. “Ordinarily I could. But it seems this dragon has somehow learned my name.”

    Cube saw the problem. “It would make you be carried away, and would pounce on you while you are helpless.”

    “Precisely.”

    “Maybe I can help you.”

    “There is no need. I have enjoyed your company, but do not wish to inconvenience you.”

    “No, I want to help, and I think I can. I'll give you some nickelpedes.”

    “Nickelpedes!”

    “It's my talent: to summon and control them.” Cube squatted and put down a hand, summoning a nickelpede, and one came to her from a nearby crevice. She lifted it. “You see, it doesn't gouge me.”

    “That's remarkable! I should have thought the enchantment would prevent them from coming here.”

    “I suppose it would, ordinarily. But this one means no harm, so must be all right.” Cube set it on her head, and it nestled in her somewhat messy hair, contented. “I can tell them not to bother you. Then you can throw them at the dragon, and it will go away.”

    “That's an interesting ploy. But I fear I would hear my name and be carried away before I could get close enough to do that.”

    “Suppose I stay close to you, so I can snap you back?”

    “That would do it. Of course if you were with me, you could throw the nickelpedes yourself.”

    “Yes I could. I'll do it.”

    “But this would take you off the path, and cost you time. I can't ask you to make that sacrifice.”

    “It's no sacrifice. I want to help.”

    “You're so nice. But--” Karia paused again. “There is one thing. There is a good-sized river. The enchanted path of course has a safe crossing, but that is some distance downstream. I could carry you across a shortcut, saving you as much time as I cost you, perhaps more.”

    “That's great.”

    “And the dragon would assume that we were vulnerable while over the river. So it would attack. I will drift, but slowly, and you can deal with it when it gets close enough.”

    “Done.”

    “Get on my back and I will take you to the river. Then we shall see.”

    Karia settled on the ground, and Cube climbed on her back. “I've never ridden a centaur before, or anything else. I hope I don't fall off.”

    “You will not.” The centaur's tail flicked, and Cube suddenly felt very light. “I have made you light so I will be able to fly with you. If by some mischance you did fall off, you would merely drift slowly to the ground.”

    “Fabulous.”

    They set off along the enchanted path. Karia trotted competently; she did not need to use her wings. She had made herself light, using the winged-centaur magic, so was using very little energy. Her wings were folded against her back, looking like a feather cloak.

    The dragon followed, watching them from the sky. Cube had not realized that dragons preyed on centaurs, but probably it was a matter of opportunity. A healthy alert centaur with bow and arrows was nobody's prey, but Karia had her liability, so she was vulnerable. That was all the dragon needed. Cube was disgusted, but realized that this was the way it was with predators. They got their prey any way they could.

    They came to the river. It was far too wide to jump across; in fact it would be a fair swim. There were colored fins circling in the water: loan sharks, waiting to take an arm and a leg or two. No swimming there!

    The path turned and followed the riverbank south. This was the detour to the safe crossing. Most travelers would follow it, rather than risk the dangers of air and water.

    “Are we ready?” Karia inquired in a murmur.

    “I think we are.”

    But the centaur hesitated. “It just occurred to me: Can the nickelpedes come to you if you are in the air? They will have no crawling space.”

    “You're right!” Cube said. “I forgot that they need some way to reach me. I'll summon a bagful now.”

    She dismounted, went to the edge of the path, and held out a cloth bag. Immediately nickelpedes came and swarmed into the bag until it was bulging. Cube held it carefully and remounted. “Now I am ready.”

    “Hold on to my mane.”

    “Mane? I don't see one.”

    “My hair,” Karia clarified. Now Cube saw the lustrous fair tresses lying across the wings.

    “I don't want to pull your hair.”

    “It's tough. Don't be concerned.”

    Karia trotted toward the river. Cube grabbed a handful of flying hair, her other hand held the bag. The wind rushed past as the centaur broke into a canter, and then a gallop, achieving takeoff velocity. She spread her wings and launched into the air just as they reached the river. The wings became huge, spreading out to either side like great white fans.

    Cube stared down, seeing the river so close below that the centaur could almost have galloped on it. The loan sharks saw it too, and quickly clustered, snapping at hoofs. But Karia was already gaining altitude, just out of their reach. Still, it was scary; any mistake, and the sharks would feed on four centaur legs and two human legs, and four arms as well. Cube wasn't sure whether they ate anything other than arms and legs, and didn't care to find out.

    “Dragon at one o'clock,” the centaur murmured.

    Was it that late in the day already? Oh--she meant a direction. Cube looked forward, just right of the arrow quiver. There it was, swooping down, not firing fire. Instead it was shaping its mouth to form a word. In this case, a word was more deadly than fire.

    “Kaarriaa!” the dragon roared.

    It was distorted, but recognizable. The centaur went inert, gliding without control. The loan sharks congregated below, gazing hungrily up, and the dragon glided in for the kill.

    Cube balanced so she could use both hands. She held the bag with one, and reached in with the other. She brought out a handful of nickelpedes. “Chomp 'em!” she whispered, and hurled the handful at the approaching snoot.

    Her aim was good. Most of the nickelpedes landed on the dragon's nose. A few fell to the side and dropped to the water, where they landed on upturned shark noses. There was a pause of two to three fifths of a moment.

    “Wake,” Cube said to the centaur. “It's happening.”

    The centaur became alert, steadying her flight with her wings, just enough to hover in place. She did not want to attract attention.

    Then the dragon yiped. Nickelpedes were gouging out nickel-sized disks of flesh from its snout. There was a scream from below as the other nickelpedes did similar work on the noses of the sharks. Then they moved on to the dragon's body, and to the fins. They were feasting on dragon skin and making a gory soup of shark fins.

    Distracted, the dragon tried to burn them off its chest. It curved its neck and blasted out a formidable jet of fire--and squealed as its skin charred. It lost control and plunged into the water, smoking. There was a great splash. But the nickelpedes did not relent; they were still gouging. The dragon sank out of sight, twisting and wriggling, trying to escape the chomping.

    This might have been a feast for the loan sharks, but they had problems of their own. More nickelpedes were in the water now, scrambling for lodging, and more sharks were getting tagged. They lurched away, trying to escape, but they were carrying the nickelpedes with them.

    “How absolutely horrible,” Karia murmured ecstatically.

    “Awful,” Cube agreed, smiling.

    Soon the carnage had sunk under the surface and the water was calm. Karia resumed flight, crossed the river, and landed on the enchanted path on the other side. “I believe this is where we part,” she said. “I now have a clear flight path home. It has been a pleasure.”

    “A pleasure,” Cube agreed.

    They shook hands. Then the centaur took off again, flying back across the river and up, up, away, into the sky. Soon she was a mere lovely speck. Then she disappeared behind a cloud.

    Cube was sad. She really liked the centaur, and was glad they had had this extra interaction. She had never flown before, and would treasure the experience.

    Then she remembered to check for the mirror. Sure enough, it was back. It had waited until they weren't paying attention, and rejoined her. She had not gotten rid of it, again.

    She faced east and marched on along the path. It wasn't long before she saw the spires of a castle. She had indeed gained time, and was arriving at the Good Magician's residence early. That was fine; she wanted to get inside and Ask her Question, and hoped he had a good Answer.

    The castle looked ordinary. It had a moat around it, complete with a serpentine moat monster, and a stone wall inside the moat, and turrets inside the wall. There was a drawbridge, and it was down across the moat, so was the obvious place to enter. Of course there would be a Challenge there, but she would do her best to handle it. Because she really, truly, desperately wanted to be beautiful, and this was the only way.

    As she approached the drawbridge, it wavered, and became something not quite the same. But it still was a route across the moat, so that was her choice.

    There was a sign by it: BEWARE THE COMIC STRIP. She paused to consider that. What was a Comic Strip? She had never heard of it, but it didn't sound particularly dangerous. Yet it had to be something that would balk her from entry, if she didn't figure it out. Well, there was one way to fathom it: she would walk in and find out.

    As she stepped onto the path that was the drawbridge, there was a raucous burst of laughter, startling her. She looked around, but all she saw was a long-stemmed plant. She took another step, and the laughter came again. This time she verified the source: it was that stem, vibrating. It didn't seem to be dangerous, just strident.

    “What's so funny?” she asked it. But now it was silent.

    She stepped forward again--and got another loud burst of laughter. Evidently it found her attempt to cross the moat hilarious. She tried to ignore it, but each step she took made it laugh louder, until the very drawbridge was shaking.

    She was afraid it would be shaken apart if the noise got any louder, so she stepped back to address the plant. “What do you want?”

    But now it was silent. She took another step forward, and got another big laugh. This was getting annoying.

    Then she had an inspiration. “You're a laughing stalk!” she exclaimed. “A stupid pun!”

    The plant wilted and shriveled and finally disappeared. She had named it, and thus nullified it. She was past the Challenge.

    But she wasn't off the drawbridge. She took another step, but found her way blocked by a stick. She didn't think it had been there before, but couldn't be sure. She took hold of it, to move it out of her way. And received a slight shock.

    “What a lovely piece of wood you are,” she said with nasty irony, throwing it down.

    Then she was sorry to have been so rough and rude, even to a stick. “I didn't mean to do that.” She bent to pick it up, and got another little shock. “You did it again, you delightful emulation of a club!” she snapped, hurling it away.

    Again she regretted it. Normally she tried to be reasonably polite to every person and every thing, because many things of Xanth had feelings too.

    The stick had returned to its original place, blocking her way. She reached for it--and stopped. “When I touch you, I get sardonic,” she said. “You're a sarcas-stick!”

    The stick sank into the floor and disappeared. She had identified it and defeated it. Had she handled the second Challenge? She was still on the drawbridge.

    She took another step, and almost walked into a column of ashes. She actually touched it before stopping, and got ashes on her front. Then a shower of ashes fell on her head, making her sneeze. She looked up, and saw that it was a whole tree, all of it covered in ashes.

    Then a little dim bulb flashed just over her head. “You're not covered in ashes--you're made of ashes,” she said. “You're an ash tree!”

    The tree collapsed into a mound of ashes and was gone. She had solved another one. That made three.

    But she was still on the drawbridge. So could she now just go on across, her Challenges done?

    She took a step, and found her way blocked by a large cabinet. Evidently she was not done here.

    Then she realized that these were all puns lined up in a row. This was the Comic Strip! Now she knew what it was. And it was only the first Challenge.

    How long would it continue? She suspected it would keep putting puns in her way until she figured out not just how to identify them, but how to stop them entirely. But it was hard enough figuring out the individual ones; how could she solve the whole thing?

    First things first. What was the nature of this cabinet? She opened its door and found it filled with little curled bits of metal. “Metal filings,” she said. “A filing cabinet!”