Currant Events (19 page)

 “Accommodation spells go only so far.”

 “Actually they can enable a lot.
Elves have used them to summon storks with humans. But long-term relationships
don't work well.”

 “I can appreciate that.” Clio
remembered how Bluebell Elf had done that with Jordan the human barbarian; she
had written up that history, though it had happened before her time. Their
descendant Rapunzel Elf had married Grundy Golem, and they had a daughter named
Surprise.

 “Well, good night.”

 “Good night.”

 Nissa went to her own sleeping nook.
But Clio's thoughts were disturbed, and not for the first time. She knew she
should simply cross over and ask Sherlock whether curves mattered a lot to him.
He noticed them, and freaked out at the sight of curvaceous panties, but every
man did that; it was a reflex. He might be more sensible when considering an
actual relationship, however temporary. She should ask-but somehow didn't dare.

 And why didn't he ask her whether age
mattered? If he were interested, wouldn't he ask? Unless he suffered the same
severe hesitation she did. It could be an awful irony, yet there it was.

 She sighed, and slept less well than
she might have.

 In the morning Nissa had more fruit and
milk. Then Sherlock spoke. “I have been pondering something.”

 “Yes?” Clio asked, her pulse
quickening.

 “The elm illness. Could it be
reversed?”

 Why had she thought he had any other
question on his mind? “How could it be reversed?”

 “With reverse wood. It might stop
the bugs from eating the bark, and stop whatever else is going on, if it is by
any chance magical.”

 “Now that's an idea,” she
agreed. “Can we test it?”

 “We could try touching the bugs
with chips of reverse wood.”

 “You couldn't get at them,”
Nissa said. “They hide under the bark, and they're in crevices or way out
on limbs you couldn't reach.”

 “What about Getaway?” Clio
asked. “He's small.”

 Sherlock nodded. “I'll ask
him.”

 “But he can't enter the
accommodation spell.”

 “We'd have to clear out and let
him investigate alone.”

 It seemed good. “Let's do
it.”

 They went down the winding stair and
reached the ground. Then Nissa terminated the accommodation spell, and suddenly
they were back to human size and Nissa was elf size.

 “Getaway!” Sherlock called.

 “I am here, master.”

 “We may have a job that only you
can do. Can you check the elf elm for magic bugs or magic disease?”

 “But if I touch the tree, won't it
reverse it?”

 “Only its magic aspects-and those
are in trouble because of an illness. We wonder if it is possible for you to
cure it, by reversing the malady.”

 “I'll check.” The golem
walked to the big tree and touched its bark. Nothing happened. He walked around
the base, stroking a little hand along it. “There's one.” He put his
whole hand flat against it. In a moment a beetle appeared, visibly disturbed,
and flew away.

 “Its taste for elm bark must have
become distaste,” Sherlock said, smiling.

 “There's more,” Getaway said.
“Something magical and ugly. It's sort of spread out.”

 “The disease!” Nissa said.

 “More like fungus,” the golem
decided. “It gets in there and sucks out the life of the wood. It's fading
now, because I'm reversing it. But it would take a long time to clear it from
this whole tree.”

 Clio was excited. “But you could
clear it?”

 “Oh, sure, if I had a month or
two.”

 “Maybe you should take that
month.”

 “And lose my reward for being
polite for a month? Or are you planning to stay too?”

 “What reward do you want?”
Nissa asked. “If it is in my power- oh, please please, save my elm if you
possibly can!”

 “If you feel up to doing
this,” Clio said carefully, “Maybe we could return to see to your
reward.” She glanced at Sherlock.

 “And suppose you get tangled up
somewhere, and don't make it back?”

 “Perhaps we can do better,”
Sherlock said. “If you will commit to curing this tree, I'll craft Knotty
for you.”

 “I'm working!” Getaway said
eagerly, and practically hugged what he could of the huge trunk.

 “Knotty?” Clio asked.

 “She is to be made of naughty
pine.”

 “There's a naughty pine tree not
far from here,” Nissa said. “We don't go near it, because it is very
indiscreet. Anyone who touches it says embarrassingly naughty things.”

 “Excellent. But I must conjure
this myself, as it must be reverse wood pine.”

 “Reverse wood comes in different
types?” Clio asked, surprised.

 “Yes.” A knotty reddish piece
of wood appeared in his hand. “I did not know this until now.”

 “I think it was unknown until
now.”

 He began shaping the wood. Two knots
became breasts, and a third the head.

 “That's amazing,” Nissa said.

 “Well, I thought the knots should
form the important parts.”

 “I mean the way you bend the wood
around. And it's reverse wood?”

 Sherlock extended the forming figure
toward a nearby common scents plant. When the wood touched, the plant
transformed into a small crescent-shaped bug.

 “That's a luna-tick!” Nissa
exclaimed. “It makes folk act crazy.” Then she caught on. “From
common scents to crazy. It was reversed.”

 Sherlock continued molding the figure,
then paused, unsatisfied. Clio could appreciate why: it was exaggerated and
lopsided. “I need a model, to get the proportions right. Um, Clio-?”

 “I'd rather not,” she said,
conscious that her proportions weren't genuine.

 “I'll model, if I'll do,”
Nissa said.

 “Will she do?” Sherlock asked
Getaway.

 The golem looked at the elf.
“Well, she's not a demoness, but she'll do.”

 “I certainly am not a
demoness,” Nissa agreed forcefully. “Why would anyone want
exaggerated fake curves like that?”

 Clio tried not to wince.

 “Why, indeed,” Sherlock
agreed. He resumed his sculpting, looking closely at the elf girl. The
proportions of the figure became less pronounced and more realistic. For Clio's
taste she was becoming more attractive.

 Soon the figure was finished. It had
reddish brown skin and long wild hair. In fact it resembled a maenad. “Is
this satisfactory?” Sherlock asked Getaway, holding it forth.

 The golem considered. “Will she
have clothing?”

 “If you wish.”

 “I wish. As much as I have,
anyway.”

 Sherlock conjured another small chip
and fashioned it into a panty. He put that carefully on the figure.

 “That's perfect! She doesn't need
any more clothing.” Clio might have differed, but it was the golem's
choice. He clearly had typical male taste. He might be made of reverse wood,
but his nature wasn't reversed.

 “I don't think Knotty is a nice
name for a girl,” Nissa said.

 She had a point. “She's for
Getaway,” Clio said. “How about Comealong? That's
complementary.”

 “I don't want her complimenting
people,” Getaway protested. “I want her wild, like me.”

 “ComplEmentary,” Clio
clarified. “That means she is your counterpart; together you're
perfect.”

 “Perfect!” Getaway echoed,
understanding.

 “Then here she is,” Sherlock
said. “But she'll have to be polite too.” He set the figure down.

 “I'll make her polite!”

 Comealong animated. “You'll what,
sawdust brain?” Then she took off running.

 Getaway ran after her. In a moment the
two were hidden in the surrounding brush.

 “I don't think he knows how to
handle women,” Nissa said with at least half a smile.

 “And she has yet to be
tamed,” Clio agreed.

 “Maybe if someone gave him some
advice,” Nissa said. “I think she likes him.”

 “She should,” Clio said.
“They are the only two reverse wood golems in Xanth.”

 “I can conjure them back,”
Sherlock said. “But they would just run again. I think they need to work
it out themselves.”

 “But will they return to save my
tree?” Nissa asked.

 Clio saw the elf was seriously worried.
“I think we need to help get this situation under control, if we can. But
I'm not sure what we can do.”

 “Maybe we can help,” Drew
said. “We can track the golems for you, so you'll know how to advise
them.”

 “But you can't get into their
minds,” Sherlock said.

 “We don't need to. We'll just show
you what they're up to, so you can do something.”

 Sherlock rolled one eye. “I
suppose it is our responsibility.”

 “Go ahead,” Clio agreed.
“We'll figure out something.”

 Drusie left Sherlock's pocket and flew
rapidly after the golems. Drew remained in Clio's pocket. “She will
observe the golems and send the scene to me,” Drew explained. “I will
show it to you.”

 “Thank you,” Clio said,
wishing she could figure out exactly what use this was likely to be.

 In two and a half moments the scene
appeared: Comealong was running fleetly through a field, Getaway in hot
pursuit. “I see it!” Nissa exclaimed. “A vision!”

 “Drew is putting it in your mind
as well as in ours,” Clio explained. “It's the semblance of illusion,
re-creating a real scene.”

 “How can you do it at such a
distance?” Sherlock asked.

 “Drusie and I have a close mental
connection. She's compressing the picture and sending it on a tight beam. I'm
decompressing it for you. It's one way in which two telepaths are better than
one.”

 “I am truly impressed,” Nissa
said.

 “They are impressive
dragons,” Clio said.

 Comealong ran up a mountain. It looked
cold up there; in fact there was an ice man with a pole. The golem paused.
“What are you doing?” she asked.

 “I'm ice fishing,” the ice
man replied as his line pulled in an ice cube.

 “Oh.” She ran on by him. Too
close; her body touched his, and suddenly he was a fireman with a ball of fire
on his line. He had been reversed. He looked disgruntled; his countenance was
smoky.

 Getaway charged by, touching the fire,
and it reversed again, becoming the ice man.

 Comealong ran down the other side of
the mountain. There was a beautiful woman brushing her radiant hair before a
mirror. The golem paused again, assessing the woman, frowning in the manner
women did when considering competition. This creature was as competitive as it
was possible to be. “Who are you?”

 “I am Iri Sistible. My talent is
to attract men.”

 “So why are you alone?”

 “I don't want a man who is merely
hostage to my talent. I want one who is immune. Then when I win him, I'll know
it's true love.”

 “Good luck,” Comealong said,
and brushed by her.

 The woman became a hag whose talent was
clearly to repulse men. She did not look entirely pleased by her conversion,
though surely only true love would keep a man near her.

 Getaway arrived. “Ugh!” he
said, and tried to avoid her.

 But Iri was not a fool. Maybe she had
seen what happened to the ice man. She reached out and touched him. And became
as she had been.

 “Wow!” he said. “On
second thought-”

 “Your girl is escaping,” she
reminded him.

 “Oh. Yes.” He ran on.

 Meanwhile Comealong came to several
mermaids lolling in a spring. They were robustly healthy and lovely, as that
species tended to be, but these were even more so.

 “What's going on here?” the
golem asked.

 “We live in this healing
spring,” one replied, flinging her lustrous tresses about. “It gives
us healing powers.”

 “Interesting.” Comealong
touched the water.

 The mermaids suddenly looked sickly,
and the healthy foliage surrounding the spring wilted. “Oh, we are
undone!” one cried. But the golem was gone.

 Getaway arrived. He touched the water,
and all was restored. “Oh thank you!” a third maid exclaimed, her
bare bosom heaving prettily. “However can we thank you?”

 The golem hesitated, eying her healthy
front. Mermaids put on excellent fronts, though they tailed off behind.

 “Remind him he can't touch her
without reversing her,” Clio murmured.

 “We can't get into the golems'
minds,” Drew reminded her. “Because they don't have minds.”

 That was true; they were animated
solely by magic. “What about the mermaids?”