Currant Events (3 page)

 Then she got a notion. Gravis had not
had a good laugh in centuries. Maybe she could provide him one.

 “I regret I must leave you
now,” she said, “as I have business within the castle.”

 “Must we part already? I had
thought we would have more time for dialogue.”

 “Another time, perhaps.”

 She oriented on the ramp, then lifted
up her skirt and charged toward it as fast as she could. Obviously she hoped to
run up it at such speed as to get over the hump before the heavy gravity
stopped her.

 She made it up several strides before
the increasing weight caught her. “Oh!” she cried, and toppled back,
somersaulting to the base head over heels, her panties surely showing. She
landed on the floor with a thump.

 “Ho ho ho!” Gravis roared,
thrilled by her humiliation. Young women flashed panties deliberately; mature
ones concealed them at all costs. He took a breath and laughed twice as hard.
The force of his breath made a blast of air down the passage.

 Clio clambered to her feet and charged
up the ramp again. This time the lightness struck, as it was its turn. In a
moment she was floating- and the moving air carried her on up the ramp to the
top. It stopped abruptly as the sphinx realized how he had been tricked, but
too late; she had passed over the hump.

 She recovered her normal weight and
touched down on the far side of the ramp, running. She was through. She had
navigated the third Challenge. Now to tackle Humfrey.

 “So nice to meet you again,
Clio.” It was a young woman approaching her from the far side of the hall,
which debouched into a larger chamber.

 “Nice to see you also, Wira.”
Wira was Humfrey's daughter-in-law, one of the few people he really liked. She
was blind, and had seemed useless to her family, so they had put her to sleep.
Later Humfrey and the Gorgon's son, Hugo, had awoken her and married her after
she had taken a dose of youth water to reduce her age to his. Now she mostly
ran the castle, with the help of the Good Magician's designated wives.

 “Can you tell me why I was
subjected to this querent business?” Clio asked. “I thought I came as
a friend.”

 “I am not sure, but I believe Dara
knows.”

 “She is this month's Designated
Wife?”

 “Yes, it is her turn. I understand
she was after all Humfrey's first wife.”

 “She was,” Clio agreed.
“She had half a soul, but gave it up and left him, then regretted
it.”

 “Well, souls are awkward,”
Dara said, for they were just arriving at the main room. “Can't live with
them, can't live without them.”

 “We mortals can't live without
them,” Wira agreed. “I will see if he is ready.” She departed
quietly.

 Clio hugged Dara. “It has been a
while,” Dara said.

 “A hundred and fifty-two years
since we first met,” Clio agreed. “I left after you married Humfrey
the first time, and we have encountered each other only passingly since. Did he
ever get your name straight?”

 “Never. He still calls me Dana.
I'm getting used to it.”

 “Well, he's a slow learner.”

 They both laughed; it was a private
joke. The Good Magician had made it a point to learn everything he could, so he
could put it in his Book of Answers. That was just as well, because later he
had taken Lethe water and forgotten some things, and now needed the Book to
remind him of them.

 “What brings you here?” Dara
inquired.

 “My 28th Volume of the History
of Xanth is illegible. I evidently wrote it, but now can't read it or
remember it.”

 “Just like Humfrey with his
Book!” They laughed again.

 “So I came to ask him if he knows
of this matter. But I had to go through the querent Challenges, which were a
nuisance; I can't say I'm pleased. Do you know why he put me through
that?”

 “I'm sorry, I don't. I didn't
realize it was you until Wira told me. But you know, he has some weird ways.
When the Gorgon came and asked him if he would marry her, he made her do a
year's Service before he answered.”

 “I remember. Then she became Wife
#5. But there was a reason: he's such a difficult old man that she needed to
have that year's experience with him before she could be truly sure she wanted
to marry him.”

 “I don't think 'difficult old man'
quite covers it. How about 'irascible ancient gnome'?”

 “At present I'm not sure that
covers it either. He is going to have to have an excellent reason for treating
me this way, or I shall be annoyed.”

 “You might write him out of Xanth
history!”

 They laughed again. It was humor; Clio
wouldn't actually do that. They both knew she was too nice a person.

 “How is it, being his wife for
just one month in six?”

 “It takes the first week to get
used to his grumpiness, and another week to seduce him away from his musty
tome, and by the last week his stinky socks are piling up and I'm quite ready
to disappear back into demonly oblivion.”

 “You don't pick up his
socks?”

 “I'm a demoness! How could I even
focus on a dirty job like that? Have you ever smelled one of them?” They
laughed again. “Fortunately Sofia Socksorter handles that, in her month.
Without her, this castle would melt from the accumulated stench.”

 “She's a sturdy woman. Of course
that's why he married her: to catch up on his old socks.”

 “She knows. She calls him
'Himself,' because that's what he's full of.”

 “Does anyone really like
him?” Clio asked. It was humor; liking was hardly the point, with the Good
Magician.

 “Wira does.”

 “Wira's an angel in human
form.”

 Wira reappeared as if summoned.
“Humfrey will see you now, Muse Clio,” she said.

 “And I shall see him,”
Clio said grimly. But her dialog with Dara Demoness had taken the edge off her
irk.

 Good Magician Humfrey's study was as
small and cramped as ever, dominated by the huge Book of Answers in the center.
Humfrey perched on his stool, poring over it.

 “Get your nose out of that tome
and talk to me, Humfrey,” Clio said. “How could you have the temerity
to treat me like this?”

 He seemed not to hear her. His sunken
eyes remained focused on the page before him. Was he adding insult to
indignity?

 “Father Humfrey,” Wira
murmured.

 He looked up, his countenance shifting
from concentration to amelioration. Yes, there was magic in the young woman's
presence. Probably the man liked the notion of a daughter who would not leave
the premises, and she was a worthy one. His wives could take him or leave him,
but Wira was always there, utterly committed to his welfare.

 “Muse Clio is here,” Wira
said, and departed.

 “About time,” Humfrey
grumped.

 Her annoyance broiled. “Time for
what?”

 “For your Service.”

 “My Service! Listen, you gnarled
excuse for a gnome, I have already had more than half a bellyful of your
impertinence. I came here as a friend. I am not accustomed to being treated
like a querent.”

 Humfrey gazed at her with something
like dawning comprehension. “We are friends; I almost forgot.”

 “Almost?”

 “There is a crisis that only you
can handle, so I summoned you here.”

 “Summoned?”

 “Asked,” he said, reluctantly
qualifying it.

 “Neither did you ask. I came here
of my own volition.”

 “That, too,” he agreed.

 This was weird. “Humfrey, are you
well? I suspect you need to drink a cup of Youth Elixir and a gallon of Healing
Elixir, then get out into the sunshine for a while. You're letting yourself get
too old and isolated. It wasn't always so.”

 He almost smiled. “I accidentally
overdosed on Youth Elixir once, and became a child. I don't care to risk that
again.”

 She had to smile. “I'm sorry I
wasn't there for you, but you seemed to cope.” She reoriented. “But
neither do you need to be a hundred. Why don't you try fifty for a while?”

 He shrugged. “I forget: have you
asked your Question yet, or are you saving it until after your Service?”

 “I have a question, but not for a
Service. As I said, I came as a friend.”

 “I couldn't ask a friend to
perform this particular Service.”

 She got a faint glimmer, like a
bright-winged insect hovering just out of range. “Are you trying to hint
that there is some remotely serious purpose behind this mischief?”

 He nodded. “So I ask you, as a
friend, not to question this process. Be a querent. Ask your Question, perform
the Service, get your Answer, go your way.”

 Clio thought of the Gorgon, waiting her
year for her Answer. It had seemed outrageous at the time, but had after all
made sense. She had to trust in that. Humfrey was definitely not one for
practical jokes.

 “Very well, then. I have an
indecipherable volume on my shelf. I wish to know why I can't read it, since I
seem to have written it recently.”

 Humfrey turned pages on the Book of
Answers. “Xanth, History of,” he muttered. “Volume?”

 “Number twenty-eight. It's the
start of the second magic trilogy.”

 “Obviously.” He found the
place. “For those events, you will need the Currant.”

 “Its title may indeed be
Current Events.”

 “Currant with an A. A red berry.
Find that and your problem will be solved.”

 “A currant? But that's
nonsensical. What has a red berry to do with an obscure history volume?”

 “A magical red berry.”

 “That surely makes a
difference.”

 “But first, your Service. Some
background is necessary.”

 “Background,” she agreed,
still taken aback by the irrelevance of his Answer.

 “The dragons of Xanth are going
extinct. It is not clear whether it is environmental degradation, disease, loss
of habitat, or some other cause, but the process is far enough along so that we
doubt they can recover. We need to restock with fresh blood, as it were, before
the loss is complete.”

 Clio focused. “There does seem to
be a dearth of dragons recently. But why would anyone want to save them? They
are an endless nuisance.” Yet she had noticed the abundant fish, rabbits,
and crows. It seemed the dragons weren't off their feed; they were absent.

 “They are the backbone of Xanth
wildlife. They keep other creatures in check. Without them Xanth would be
insufferably safe and dull.”

 “I find it hard to debate that
point. But I know nothing of dragons; I have stayed clear of them all my life.
I don't even like them. I really find myself unsuited to such a mission.”

 “Then recruit assistance.”

 Clio stopped trying to argue; Humfrey
was beyond argument. “You mentioned restocking. That implies a
source.”

 “There is a planet devoted to
dragons. Go to Dragon World; it is one of the Moons of Ida. There should be
plenty there for this purpose. However, there may be a problem.”

 “Anotherproblem?”

 “The dragons may not want to come
to Xanth. You will have to persuade a sufficient number.”

 “Persuade dragons to travel! I
would more likely persuade the first one to consume me with ketchup.”

 “Your talent should suffice.”

 Clio got another glimmer. It was true
that her magic talent was likely to be useful on such a dangerous world. So it
was barely possible that she was an adequate choice for such a preposterous
mission. “Persuade dragons to emigrate from their world, and immigrate
here. How many would be appropriate?”

 “Five breeding pairs of each type
should suffice.”

 “Five breeding pairs! Each
type!” This was becoming less feasible by the moment, as there were
several types of dragons: fire breathers, smokers, steamers; flying, swimming,
landbound. That was sixty dragons right there. “Anything else?”

 “Yes. Do it within the week.”

 “Within the week,” she
agreed. “And is that quite all?”

 “Almost. There are a number of
varieties, so it will be necessary to move rapidly.”

 It had been a rhetorical, ironic
question, but that nuance had evidently been lost on him. “And if I fail
to accomplish this Service within the specified time?”

 “That would be unfortunate.”

 He was impossible. “Yield me this
much: a suggestion how to proceed on this unlikely mission.”

 “I am unable to do that, other
than this: fix the concept Dragon World in your mind as you go. That will take
you there.”

 “And when I get to this-this world
of dragons-what do I do then? I can't even speak their language.”

 “Some are telepathic. That should
help.”

 “That should help them zero in on
me to chomp.”

 “True. You may need to think
dragon thoughts, so they don't realize you are edible.”

 This was beyond fantastic. “So I
fool them into not recognizing my edible nature. That remains a far cry from
persuading any of them to emigrate.”

 “The compass will guide you to
assistance.”

 “Compass?”

 “Extend your left wrist.”

 Thoroughly bemused, she did so. He
touched her wrist with his gnarly fingers. A circular design appeared there,
with two little colored arrows in the center and a bright mark on the circle.

 She looked at it. “How should I
interpret this decoration?”

 “The blue arrow points to your
destination. The red one indicates your remaining time. Don't be late.”

 “Late for what?”

 But his attention had returned to his
page. He had tuned her out.

 Wira appeared. “It is time for you
to go.”

 “Time to go! I haven't even
assimilated the magnitude of the task!”

 “Please. He gets grumpy when kept
from his business.”

 Clio found herself ushered out of the
study and down the winding stone stairs. Her head seemed to be spinning. She
had decided to trust Humfrey enough to go along with his demand for a Service,
but it had turned out to be preposterously impractical. And for what? For the
news that she needed a magic red berry to read her own book. If Humfrey had not
lost all his wits, surely he had mislaid some of them.

 “You look bemused,” Dara
remarked downstairs.

 “Worse. I'm bewildered, befuddled,
and benighted. I am one bemused Muse. I need help.”

 “What kind of help?”

 “Help to persuade dragons to move
to Xanth.”

 Dara considered. “Maybe Becka
Dragongirl.”

 It was like a bulb flashing over their
heads. “Yes! She should have some idea how to talk to dragons.”

 “I'll call her.” Dara floated
to a magic mirror. “Becka, please.”

 The mirror flickered. In a moment a
young woman's face appeared. She had blonde hair and brown eyes. “Hello,
Dara. How are things with His Grumpiness?”

 “He's pulled another marvel. Clio,
the Muse of History, has to persuade dragons to immigrate.”

 “Wonderful! I was afraid he
wouldn't take the problem seriously.”

 “You knew?” Clio asked.

 “I told him about it. Daddy Draco
told me the dragons are dying of incompatibility and may soon be gone, and he's
feeling none too spry himself. The prey is overrunning Xanth. I'm trying to do
my part, but I'm sick of eating crow. I'm so glad the Good Magician decided to
do something about it.”

 “But I don't know anything about
dragons!” Clio said.

 “Fortunately, I do. Do you want my
help?”

 “Yes!”

 “Then come on over and we'll
discuss it.” Becka faded out, and the mirror became reflective again.

 Clio looked around. “I'm not sure
how to-”

 “I'll take you,” Dara said.

 “Thank you.” Things were
moving quickly, which was just as well.

 The demoness put a hand on Clio's arm.
There was a dizzy swirl. Then they were in another castle.

 Becka stepped into the chamber.
“Ah, there you are. I'm so glad to meet you, Muse.”

 “Call me Clio,” Clio said as
they shook hands.

 “Is there anyone else to
notify?” Dara asked.

 “How about Che Centaur?”
Becka asked. “He's another winged monster, and very persuasive; dragons
will listen to him, and all winged monsters are sworn to protect him. He could
also carry you while talking to you, which is more than I can do; my dragon
mouth isn't good for human talk.”

 “On my way,” Dara said, and
vanished.

 Clio looked around. There was a mirror
on the wall, probably the one Becka had used to communicate with Dara. It was
flashing pictures: a black man, a volcano, an evil-looking sorceress, a
horrific demon, and a garden. “Oh-this must be Rorrim, the mirror that
shows alternate futures.”

 “Yes. I'm keeping him for Umlaut.
But it's hard to interpret his images unless you make a deal with him.”

 Clio shrugged. “I have already
made one deal too many, I suspect.”

 “Do you know where there are more
dragons?” Becka asked.

 “It seems here is an entire world
devoted to dragons. One of Princess Ida's moons.”

 “Now that makes sense. But they
may not be eager to move.”

 “That is one of my concerns.”

 “Still, new hunting grounds should
appeal. Game is good in Xanth. Too good, in fact.”

 Clio did not need to inquire how she
knew. “Apart from everything else, there will be a problem traveling to
Xanth, as the folk on Ida's moons are mere fragments of souls rather than
physical entities. They can't just come here; they would be mere wisps.”

 “That's true,” Becka said.
“I hadn't thought of that. Maybe Che will have an answer.”

 Soon Dara brought the centaur.
“How could you carry a person much bigger than you are?” Clio asked,
surprised.

 “I made myself very light,” Che
explained. “Greetings, Muse, Becka.”

 That reminded Clio of something.
“You associate with Cynthia Centaur. She was once a human girl, but was
transformed by Magician Trent to winged centaur form.”

 “Which was fortunate for me,”
Che agreed. “She's a wonderful filly.”

 “Originally she did not use the
lightening magic to make herself light enough to fly, the way you do. Yet the
last time I wrote of her, in the episode of the Swell Foop, she was using that
magic. How was that possible?”

 Che smiled.
“MagicianTrenttransformed her into a roc bird, then back to winged
centaur, absentmindedly using the other template. Thereafter she had the
lightening magic, though it took her some time to realize it.”