Currant Events (17 page)

 “I fear that won't be
effective.”

 “We'll see.”

 They launched themselves from their
pockets. Drew flew down at Zaster's feet, jetting fire. But the fire passed
right through the demon's material without effect.

 “What's this?” Zaster asked,
amused. “A firefly?” “A dragon!” Drew said, though Clio
knew the demon couldn't hear him. He flew up and fired a blast at Zaster's left
eye. But that too passed through harmlessly.

 The demon whipped his hand around and
caught the dragon. “I think we'll have dragonfly soup today.” Drew
was caught, his wings pinned back. He tried to bite the demon's fingers, but
his jaws snapped on nothing. The demon's flesh was solid only where he wanted
it to be. Meanwhile Drusie was having no better luck with Lirious. She steamed
first a toe, then the nose. The demoness's mouth became long, like that of a
wolf, and snapped the little dragon out of the air. Drusie too was caught.

 Clio had been afraid that the little
dragons were overmatched in this case, and that had been confirmed. They had
been bold but insufficient. “Well, we seem to have the situation in
hand,” Zaster said, glancing at Drew in his hand. “Now for the
finale.”

 There was no direct escape. Clio
realized that she would have to use the windback. But she dreaded it, because
they had taken an hour to get here, and she would have to wind back that time
to get them back to the brink of the canyon. That would add an hour to her age,
and might not help much, as the demons had surely not lied about watching the
party descend. The demons had been there, invisible, ready to grab them the
moment the party tried to turn back. Also, where else could they go? The blue
arrow had led them here.

 She had to try to find out why. Maybe
the demons would explain, if she inquired. Bad characters often loved to brag
to their victims; it was part of their badness. “How do you expect to take
our souls?”

 “We'll make you give them to
us,” Zaster said, still holding Drew helpless.

 “And how do you propose to do
that?”

 “First we'll ask you nastily. Then
if you don't do it, we'll torture you until you do. If you hold out until you
die, we'll grab for your souls when they try to flee your bodies. Something
should work.”

 This was looking worse. Humans did
sometimes lose or yield their souls, though it was seldom if ever pleasant for
them. “Why do you want souls, when other demons don't?”

 “Other demons are soft. We're from
a more recent Demon Wave of colonization, and still fresh and mean. They have
accepted the local order; we know better. They think they can get half souls
only by marrying mortals; we figure to get whole souls without tying ourselves
down like that.”

 Clio hadn't realized that there were
demon waves of colonization, but that was because she hadn't been paying
attention. She had recorded only the human waves. That would have to be
rectified, at such time as she returned to writing Xanth histories. If
she returned; this just might be where she met her early death.

 “But souls are only burdens to
demons,” she said. “They make demons behave halfway decently. They
hate that. You really don't want souls.”

 “So you say,” he repeated.
“But we figure that's because other demons have taken souls on human
terms. We'll take them on our terms, and not suffer any of the bad
effects.”

 There was no reasoning with him. But
there had to be some way out of this, otherwise the blue arrow should not have
brought them here. What could it possibly be?

 “Enough dawdling,” Zaster
said. “Time to ask you for your soul.” He stepped close to her and
put his ugly face almost against hers. “Give it to me, you helpless mortal
creep.” True to his threat, he was asking her nastily.

 What could she say? “No.”

 “Good. Now we get to torture
you.” He stepped back, appraising her with a disconcerting squint.
“You're a shapely one, so we'll make female use of you first.”

 “You mustn't,” she said,
alarmed.

 “Ah, but we must. Unwilling mortal
women can be a lot of fun. Promise you'll kick and scream.”

 “No.” But somehow that
defiance seemed less than ideal.

 “Yes,” he said zestfully. He
noticed the dragon in his hand, and threw it away. “I will go first.”

 Clio tried to flee, but the four other
demons jumped to grab her arms and legs. Their hands were brutally hard. They
held her upright, facing their leader.

 Zaster reached out and grabbed her
shirt. He ripped it off, exposing her bra. “Yes, nice, because it's
mortal.”

 Actually the fullness of her bra was
provided mostly by the nymph bark, but the demon hadn't inspected her closely
enough to catch on. He was already going for the skirt. He ripped it off,
exposing her panties. They were clean, but the way he stared at them made them
seem dirty. Unfortunately he didn't freak out; demons weren't as vulnerable
that way as mortal human men.

 “Now for the real goodies,”
Zaster said, one hand reaching for each piece of underclothing.

 Clio couldn't help herself: she
struggled and screamed. Neither was effective, but the demon was pleased.
“Good, but I think you can do better. Kick harder and scream louder, please.”

 She shut her mouth and stood still. But
when his brutish hands grabbed at both pieces, pinching her flesh right through
the material and bark, she kicked valiantly and screamed louder.

 “Excellent. I think you are ready
for action now.”

 She was at the end of her tolerance.
She would have to start the windback, even if it did have to go back an hour or
more. If it shortened her life or killed her-well, she'd rather die that way,
than this way.

 A small voice rose from the ground.
“I'm trying to be polite. How long do I have to do it?”

 It was the golem, who had been flipped
off her shoulder when the shirt came loose. He was dusting himself off.

 Zaster looked down. “What in
heaven are you?” Bad demons swore by invoking their worst concepts.

 “I am Getaway Golem, sir.”

 “Well, get away, golem, before I
squish you under my foot, like this.” Zaster's horny callused foot stomped
down as the golem skittered aside.

 Getaway turned to Clio. “Do I have
to stay polite?”

 Something clicked in her comprehension.
“These demons have shown themselves to be unworthy of politeness,”
she said carefully.

 “You may treat them in whatever
way you wish, and we shall not hold it against you.”

 A grin spread across his face that was
almost bigger than he was.

 “Really?”

 “Really,” she agreed.
“In fact it might be amusing to see to what extent you are able to annoy
them.”

 “Great!”

 Zaster allowed a twisted smile to
meander across his face. “If the dialog with the midget is quite finished,
we shall resume our more important business.” He reached again for Clio's
underwear.

 “Is that so, spittoon puss?”
Getaway inquired, allowing his effort of politeness to fade.

 Zaster's hand paused. “How's that
again, splinter?”

 “I guess I did get your name
wrong. Your puss looks more like a used chamber pot.”

 Demons were difficult to insult, but
this seemed to be getting there. “What kind of pot?”

 “Outhouse, offal, refuse, crap,
poop, whatever fits. It's the first time I've seen a blivet that talks like a
demon.” Getaway paused. “You do know what a blivet is,
stink-mouth?”

 For half a moment the demon froze, his
eyes bulging remarkably. It seemed he was familiar with the term.

 “I'm sure I don't know that
word,” Clio said politely. “Perhaps Demon Zaster is also unfamiliar
with it. In that case it would be unkind to clarify it for him.”

 The golem grinned, understanding her
perfectly. “Get this, peanut-brain. It's a five-pound container
overflowing with ten pounds of stinky-”

 This time he paused but did not dodge
as the demon's foot stomped down on him. The foot landed-and vaporized. It had
been reversed.

 “Owww!” Zaster exclaimed,
hopping about on his other foot as the first one drifted away in acrid smoke.
His leg now ended at the ankle.

 “Serves you right, gimpy,”
Getaway said. “Next time try to stomp more effectively. I don't like
messing with amateurs. You should be able to do it without losing half your
mind.”

 The foot reformed. Zaster jumped,
coming down on the golem with both feet.

 Both feet went up in smoke. “Now
you've lost the other half of your mind, pinhead. I know by the stench.”

 Zaster dived for the golem, grabbing
him with both hands. And of course the hands puffed away.

 “And there goes your personality.
What are you going to use to snatch at panties now, idiot?”

 This demon really was rather stupid.
“Get the midget!” he shouted to his henchdemons.

 They promptly let go of Clio and dived
for the golem. Getaway dodged right into the first, so that the demon's
descending head smacked into the wood body-and vaporized. Then he ran around in
a circle, spreading chaos whenever he touched a demon. “Nyaa! Nyaa!”
he cried. “Can't get me, you boobs! Whatsa matter with you? Got
butterfingers?”

 But the demons were done for. They were
floating away as disorganized roils of smoke. They would surely reconstitute in
time, but they would not be bothering the human party again.

 “One remains,” Clio murmured
as she chafed her wrists. She might have bruises, but she was glad to be free
and unmolested.

 “Got it.” Getaway charged
across to where Lirious stood. “Hey, ogress-face, whyn't you put some
flesh in that underwear? You don't want folk to call you stringbean, do
you?”

 The demoness oriented on him. Evidently
she had been so busy fascinating Sherlock that she hadn't picked up on the
action elsewhere. She removed the dragon from her mouth and spoke. “What
in Xanth are you?”

 “Getaway Golem, here to spank your
anemic bottom, prune head. Whatcha going to do about it?”

 Demonesses were not notably easier to
insult than demons, but the golem did seem to have a knack for it.
“Listen, you pipsqueak wood chip, I don't have to take that from
you.”

 “Yeah? Then get out of my way,
hag.” He charged toward her nearest foot.

 Lirious threw the dragon at him. Drusie
spread her dented wings and zoomed clear. Clio had been concerned that she had
been damaged, but it seemed the demoness had not gotten around to chewing.

 Getaway ran right into the foot. It,
too, puffed into smoke. “Why you little beast!” the demoness cried.
“Reverse wood!”

 “Well, at least you're not quite
as stupid as your malefolk. Now get out of here while you still can, you
imitation piece of meat.”

 Lirious considered, then vanished. She
had evidently concluded that the advice was good.

 Sherlock, freed at last from the
spectacle of overstuffed panties, revived. “What happened?”

 “You freaked out,” Drusie
told him. “Getaway saved you.” She projected more details of the
recent action.

 Sherlock nodded. “Thank you,
Getaway. I'm glad I made you.”

 “Just remember I helped, a month
hence.”

 “I will.” Sherlock turned to
look at Clio-and freaked out again. Because she remained in bra and panties,
filled by the nymph bark.

 “Clothe me in fake illusion!”
she told Drew.

 Sherlock, recovered, addressed Clio.
“Are you all right?”

 “I am, thanks to Getaway. He
certainly came through this time. He saved us all. But I remain mystified why
the compass directed us here.” She glanced down at it.

 The blue arrow now pointed back the way
they had come. That suggested that their business here was finished. But what
had they accomplished that would help her find the Currant?

 Getaway ran to rejoin her-and the blue
arrow swung back the other way.

 A lightbulb flashed over her head.
“The compass is reversing! That's why it pointed the wrong way-Getaway was
close to it, affecting it.”

 The golem stopped. “Did I do
something wrong?”

 “No, dear. Not intentionally. It's
just that I forgot that your nature would affect the other magic I have. We
were going not where we should, but where we shouldn't. I'm afraid you will
have to ride with Sherlock henceforth.”

 Getaway looked at the man.
“Remember, I saved you.”

 “I remember. Though I suspect
there are details I missed.” He stooped to pick up the golem.

 “There are,” Clio agreed.
“But Getaway did prove himself most admirably.”

 “It's a relief to know that this
was a mistake,” Sherlock said. “Let's get back on the correct
path.”

 Clio was more than happy to agree.