Currant Events (20 page)

 The mermaid's expression changed.
“But your touch will destroy us,” she said sadly. “So you must
go on.”

 “Oh, right,” Getaway agreed,
prying his eyes away. He ran on.

 The scene oriented on Comealong, who
was approaching a ridge with two peaks. “What are you?” she asked.

 “We are two tors,” they
answered. “We can privately educate you.”

 “Ha!” She ran between them.

 The tors turned ugly as Getaway
arrived. Daunted, he paused. “What are you up to?”

 “We are tor mentors,” they
replied. “We will make you miserable.”

 But he ran between them, and they
reversed again, becoming amiable tutors.

 “There would be serious
repercussions if he didn't cancel her mischief,” Clio said. “We can't
let this continue; it's dangerous. Let me talk to him again.”

 “I'll connect you to the nearest
dryad.”

 Getaway was passing a tree Comealong
had overlooked. A bare girl appeared before him. “Let me give you some
advice,” she said.

 He paused. “Who are you? You don't
look reversed.”

 “I am Meggie, the nymph of this
tree.”

 “But that's a maple tree, not an
oak!”

 “Yes, I am much sweeter than those
tough oak dryads.”

 “What's this advice?”

 “You'll never catch her if all you
do is chase her. She has to want to be caught. Only then will she let
you.”

 “But how can I make her want to be
caught?”

 “Tell her you love her.”

 “That's ridiculous.”

 “Try it anyway. You need to enlist
her help in curing that Elf Elm.”

 The golem didn't question how an
isolated nymph knew about that. He ran on. “Comealong! I want to tell you
something.”

 She paused, about to touch a bell in
the shape of a door. Normally it would ring when a person opened it: a
doorbell. Clio wasn't sure how it would reverse. “Tell me what?”

 He came close. “Something really
important.”

 “Well, out with it,” she
said, about to run again.

 Getaway hugged her. “I love
you!”

 “Stop mauling me, you
pervert!”

 Getaway hesitated. “You must be
kidding.”

 She delivered a wooden stare. Then
slowly her expression softened. “Yes. I was reversed. But you need to
understand who's governing this relationship.”

 “I am!”

 She drew away and turned around,
flashing her tiny panties at him. Getaway freaked out and fell down.

 Comealong pinned him to the ground and
kissed him. “Who?”

 “You are,” he said dazedly.

 “I'm glad we got that settled. Now
what's going on?”

 “We're curing an elf elm.”

 She nodded. “Then let's get to
it.”

 They returned to the elm.

 “I think we're done here,”
Clio said as the picture faded. “Thank you, dragons.”

 “Oh, thank you so much!”
Nissa said. “This is so wonderful!”

 “A return for your
hospitality,” Sherlock said.

 But as they were about to go, there was
a shuddering of the ground. Something huge was tramping near.

 “What could that be?” Clio
asked alarmed. She glanced at the compass; the blue arrow was wavering
uncertainly, and the red arrow was about to hit its mark. The deadline was
short, for whatever it was.

 “The Danger of the Day,” Drew
said.

 “A huge horrible giant,”
Drusie agreed.

 And Clio had an appointment with it.
The compass knew.

 “Oh, I know that tromp!”
Nissa said. “That's Paul!”

 “Who?” Sherlock asked.

 “The big lumberjack! He's coming
to chop my tree.”

 “We shall have to stop that,”
Clio said.

 “When the tree is better, and the
other elves return, they'll protect it,” Nissa said. “But right now
it's defenseless. Oh, woe!”

 Now the ground shuddered worse, and the
giant came into sight. He was the size of an invisible giant, but visible, with
a burly body and a huge ax. Behind him came a beast the size of a sphinx, solid
blue. That was his ox, ready to haul away the trunk.

 “Stop!” Clio cried, running
out in front of the giant.

 He didn't hear her. His giant boot came
down, about to crush her.

 She wound it back and tried again.
“Stop!” she cried from the side.

 He still didn't hear her. He tromped up
to the tree and brought his ax off his shoulder. Nissa screamed, but he didn't
hear her either.

 “I have an idea,” Sherlock
said.

 “Make it quick,” Clio
snapped. It was not her nature to be sharp, but she was desperate.

 “Dragons,” he said. He sent a
thought to them that so surprised them they forgot to relay it to her. “Do
you think that would work?”

 “We'll try it,” Drew said.

 “Try what?” Clio asked,
trying to focus. But that monstrous ax mesmerized her. It would require only
about ten brutal chops to fell the tree.

 Paul lifted the ax high behind his
shoulder. He was about to chop. Nissa screamed again.

 Then the tree fuzzed and became the big
blue ox. Paul blinked. “Babe!” he boomed. “Don't stand in my way
when I'm harvesting.” But the ox didn't move.

 Paul looked around. There to the side
was the great Elf Elm. “Oh. I guess I got turned around. Well, sure as I'm
the greatest logger ever, I'm gonna take it down.” He marched toward the
tree, hefting the ax menacingly The tree backed away from him.

 Paul stared. “Since when do trees
move?” he demanded. He strode after it.

 The tree retreated faster.

 “Hey, you can't do that,” he
said. “No tree escapes Paul Bunyan.” He broke into a lumbering run.

 The tree moved through the forest,
staying just ahead of the giant logger. Soon they were out of sight.

 Clio blinked. There was the Elf Elm,
exactly where it had always been. “What's going on?”

 “The dragons switched the
images,” Sherlock explained. “They made the tree look like the ox,
and the ox look like the tree.”

 Nissa laughed. “So now he's
chasing his ox across the landscape, and Babe knows better than to pause.”

 Clio was amazed. “That was an
effective idea, Sherlock.” She looked around. “Where are the
dragons?”

 “They are staying with Paul and
Babe, to maintain the illusion. They'll keep those two moving until nightfall.
With luck, Paul will forget about this particular tree until the elves have
time to return to protect it.”

 “That's marvelous,” Clio
said. “How long will it take for the elves to return?”

 “Some should come tomorrow,”
Nissa said. “They check back every few days, just in case. They'll alert
the others.”

 “Then it should be all
right.” Clio considered. “But we had better wait here until they do,
just to be sure.”

 “That's great,” Nissa said.

 “And of course we need to be where
the dragons can find us,” Sherlock said. “And if the logger returns
too soon, they'll be able to lead him astray again. He doesn't seem to be too
bright.”

 Clio laughed. “I was fooled
too.” But she was well satisfied with the day.

 They were on the proper route; the blue
arrow pointed back the way they had come, which Clio knew was correct because
it was opposite to the way it had pointed when reversed. Just the four of them:
Clio, Sherlock, and the two little dragons.

 “I realize that we needed a place
to stay for a time and recover,” Sherlock said. “But that turned out
to be a bit more of an adventure than I might have expected, and we did manage
to do a nice elf a favor. Do you think your compass intended all that?”

 “I confess to being in doubt
myself,” Clio said. “Had I known about the threats to the Elf Elm I
would have been glad to help; the elves are generally good people. But I don't
see the compass as being a caring device. I'm not sure now that it even cared
about our being tired or uncomfortable. I think it simply points to where I'm
supposed to go. The benefit to the Elf Elm was probably incidental.”

 “That was my thought. Did the
timer function?”

 “Yes. It indicated short deadlines
when we met Nissa, and when Paul Bunyan came.”

 “So it seems we were there to save
the tree. I am glad we were able to do that, but I don't see how that forwarded
your mission.”

 “There must have been some
way.”

 “The golems,” Drew said.
“They had a bad effect on your compass. Did you need to get rid of
them?”

 “I wouldn't do that!” Clio
protested.

 Sherlock smiled. “You wouldn't do
it in an unkind manner, but it seems it was done. They were given a useful
assignment that separated them from us. When that elm is cured, there will
surely be others to cure. They are likely to be busy for some time, and well
appreciated by the elves.”

 Clio nodded. “Indeed, that is my
idea of an ideal separation.”

 “So the compass pointed the way to
separating from the golems,” Drew said. “So that you could resume
your quest.”

 “That seems to be the case. I may
have underestimated its sophistication.” Then she remembered something.
“We were where we weren't supposed to be, because of the day's reversal of
the compass. So maybe it simply reoriented from there, taking us to the closest
safe harbor. Then it saw about the golems.”

 “And with respect to me,”
Sherlock said. “Does it show a time?”

 “It never showed a time for
you.”

 “Still, perhaps my time has
passed. Maybe I, too, should be assigned elsewhere, so as not to get in the way
after my usefulness to your mission is done.”

 The blue arrow suddenly swung to point
to him. But the time arrow faded out. “It seems to suggest that you remain
relevant, but without a time limit.”

 “Then I will remain until it is
time for me to go.” He paused, then added, “I admit to being
relieved.”

 “So am I. You have been very
useful.” That didn't seem quite adequate, but she wasn't sure what else to
say. Meanwhile the arrow swung back to point ahead; it had deviated only to
confirm the need for Sherlock's presence.

 “It is pleasant being
useful.”

 “Yet your association with me
exposes you to my daily dangers.”

 “Which I am glad to help abate, if
I am able.”

 They were near the Region of Madness,
where magic was especially strong. Clio hoped they would avoid it, as strange
things could happen there. Sometimes those strange things wandered on out into
Xanth proper.

 “There is something strange
ahead,” Drew said.

 Exactly what she dreaded. “But the
compass points that way. Is it dangerous?”

 “I think not to us. But we need to
be careful.”

 “To be sure.”

 “I can flip a reverse wood chip at
it if I need to,” Sherlock said. “I am finding this talent to be
increasingly useful.”

 “Maybe that would work,” Drew
said dubiously.

 Clio wondered what would make a
telepathic dragon doubtful, but she stifled the wonder; better to find out for
herself.

 “It's a dragon!” Drusie
exclaimed.

 “Why so it is,” Drew agreed,
amazed. “But so different I didn't recognize it.”

 Then the creature appeared, coming
toward them along the trail. It was huge and sinuous, and it had three heads.
It spied them and paused, the heads side by side, snorting small jets of fire.

 “That's not from Dragon
World,” Clio said, surprised.

 “And I think not from Xanth,”
Sherlock said.

 “That's why we were
confused,” Drew said. “It's a foreign dragon.”

 “Can you communicate with
it?” Clio asked. “I'd rather not have trouble.”

 “We're trying,” Drew said.
“But it thinks in a foreign tongue.”

 “Try harder,” Sherlock said
dryly as the three heads seemed to share a decision. The huge dragon might be
getting ready to launch itself at them.

 Drew scrambled from Clio's pocket and
flew to the big dragon. He hovered before the middle head.

 “He's trying harder,” Drusie
explained.

 But it wasn't enough. The dragon
launched, spreading its wings and leaping toward them. They didn't have time to
get out of the way.

 There was her danger. She wound it
back, having no choice. “Trust me,” she said to Sherlock as Drew flew
toward the monster dragon. “Flee!”

 They turned and fled just before the
dragon launched. Caught by surprise, it landed where they had just been. It
blew three more jets of fire and gathered itself for another flying leap.

 “We'd better get off the
path,” Sherlock said. “The forest will slow it so I can organize some
wood chips.”

 So that he could reverse the dragon's
attack. That made sense. She saw a narrow avenue between the trees of a dense
grove. “Here!”

 They swerved into the avenue. The
dragon landed again, right behind them, and slid on past, caught by surprise
again. That gave them another bit of respite. It would take it a moment or a
moment and a half to get back on their track.

 They ran around a trunk and almost
collided with a big hairy baby. It was an ogret-a baby ogre. It was playing an
ogre game of smashing stones into pebbles barehanded.

 They stopped. The ogret might be
harmless, by ogre standards, but its parents would not be. They needed to pass
it amicably. “Hello, ogret,” Clio said. “What's your name?”

 “Adora-ble Bash-ful,” the
baby answered shyly, squeezing a pebble to dust in its distraction.

 “That's nice. We're going on
now.” They sidled around the ogret and went on.

 Just in time, for Bash-ful's parents were
returning; the forest floor was shaking with their heavy tread.

 The dragon arrived. “Me see
drag-ee!” the ogret cried, delighted.

 The tramping sounds got abruptly louder
and faster. Mature ogres took on young dragons, but this was a baby ogre and an
adult dragon. There were sounds of hissing fire and scales being bashed.
“That will slow it somewhat,” Clio gasped as her feet caught up with
her pulses.

 The way opened out, leading to what
looked like a schoolyard. There was a sign: boarding school. In smaller print,
it said learn everything about boards. Well, that did make sense.

 But as they entered the yard, a board
came flying out and bounced on the ground. “The board is bored of boarding
the board!” an angry voice yelled.

 “Let's not go there,”
Sherlock said.

 Clio was glad to agree. They dodged to
the side again, just as the dragon appeared at the edge of the yard. Somehow it
had gotten around the angry ogre family.

 They almost ran into a tower.
“Help!” a girl called from a window at its top. She wore a robe and a
small crown.

 Sherlock looked up at her. “I'm
not sure how we can do that. Why are you confined?”

 “I'm a princess in distress,”
she said. “I got bored with boarding school and tried to run away, so the
motherboard gave me detention and the fatherboard put me in here. I must stay
here until I draw a blank.”

 “We should help her,” Clio
said. “But I confess I draw a blank on how to do so.” Then, hearing
herself: “No pun intended.”

 “But maybe a pun is
intended,” he said. He faced the princess. “Try drawing a
blank.”

 “If I knew how to do that, I'd
already be out, silly,” she said.

 “A blank is a circle of metal that
looks like a coin,” he explained. “Draw a picture of one. Just draw a
circle on the wall.”

 “Like this?” she asked.

 Suddenly the buxom princess appeared on
the ground outside the castle. “It worked!” she exclaimed. “I'm
out. Oh, thank you, black knight.” She flung her arms around Sherlock and
kissed him resoundingly, her robe trying to fall open.

 For some obscure reason that disturbed
Clio. “You should return to boarding school,” she said. “You
don't want to be late for class.”

 “Oh, that's right!” the
princess said. “I might get spanked by the disciplinary board.” She
ran toward the school, drawing her robe back together.

 “They probably enjoy spanking
her,” Sherlock remarked.

 “I don't understand.”

 “Fortunately. It's a Mundane
thing. We had better move on.”

 But the way ahead was blocked by a
wicked thicket. When they turned to seek another way, the dragon was there. But
it no longer seemed as threatening. “Drew has made progress,” Drusie
said. “The dragon is willing to listen now.”

 “That's a relief,” Clio said.

 “The language is weird, but the
thoughts are beginning to take shape. This dragon is from-from Asia. Is there
such a place you know of?”

 “Yes,” Sherlock said.
“It's part of Mundania.” “But they don't have dragons in
Mundania!” Clio protested. “They do in Asia. In their mythology, at
any rate.” “That's it,” Drusie said. “Drew's getting it
now. There were many dragons, but as time passed the humans expanded and became
more skeptical and squeezed them out, and the dragons had to move. But there
was hardly any place left to go. This one fled down into a long narrow region,
the kam-kam-”

 “Kamcatka,” Sherlock said.
“It's a big peninsula on the eastern side of Russia, in the north
Pacific.”

 “A peninsula!” Clio
exclaimed. “That became an entry to Xanth. It happens.”

 “Yes, I have heard of a number of
cases. There's something magical about peninsulas.”

 “How did you learn of this?”

 “We have a good communication
system in the Black Wave. It's called Black Mail.”

 Clio winced. “So this is a Mundane
oriental dragon. It must be feeling somewhat lost in Xanth.”

 “Yes,” Drew said. “The
last human folk it encountered attacked it with stones and spells, so it
thought you would too. I explained that you're not a normal human, you're nice.
But it still would like to encounter something familiar.”

 Clio winced again. From a dragon's
perspective, few humans were nice. “I appreciate that. Maybe it should go
to Castle MaiDragon, where Becka and Che can surely find it a compatible
hunting ground.” “But it's lost. How will it find its way?”

 That was a problem. “Perhaps we
can find it a guide.” She had no idea how, but it seemed better to seek a
guide than to hold too long a dialog with this huge alien dragon.

 “Let's go back to the regular
path,” Sherlock said. “Maybe we'll find someone there.”

 They returned to the path. The
three-headed dragon was now behaving well; Drew's contact with it had been
effective.

 “Wait out of sight,” Clio
told the dragon. “We'll need to explain things first, to any prospective
guide.”

 The dragon settled down behind a
beerbarrel tree. They went onto the path.

 An oddly garbed man was walking down
it. He looked confused.

 “He's another stray from
Kamcatka!” Drew said. “In a manner.”

 “There must be an interface,”
Clio said. “They can form randomly, and sometimes whole Waves pass through
before they close.” Then she picked up on his qualification. “In a
manner?”

 “Maybe he can explain it.”

 “Hello,” Clio said to the man
as they met on the path.

 He looked at her blankly.

 “He doesn't speak our
language,” Drew said.

 “But every human speaks the same
language in Xanth. It's part of the magic.”

 “He doesn't know that. He's not a
normal man.”

 Clio brushed aside the uncomfortable
oddity. “It doesn't matter. Tell him he can speak and understand our
language.”

 Drew did. The man looked surprised.
“I can?”

 Clio smiled. “Yes. I am Clio, and
this is Sherlock. Who are you?”

 “I am Mikhail. I am seeking my
true love. But I got lost, and can't seem to find her.”

 “Who is she?”

 “I don't know.”