Currant Events (30 page)

 Clio had to agree. “Surprise, it's
early for you to be exposed to the Adult Conspiracy, but I think necessary in
this case. You will simply have to learn to tolerate certain ugly words without
freaking out.”

 “I think I can manage,”
Surprise said.

 “%%%%,” Ciriana said sweetly.

 Umlaut managed to catch Surprise before
she hit the ground.

 Something needed to be done.
“Surprise, you have every talent once and only once,” Clio said when
the girl recovered.

 “Yes. That's why I try not to use
them. I may need them later and I don't want to run out.”

 “This is nonsensical,”
Sherlock said. “You won't run out.”

 “But each talent is permanently
gone once I use it.”

 “Consider this: there is an
infinite variety of each talent. Suppose you fly: you can do it by floating, or
by making yourself light, or by generating a wind to blow you upward, or by
invoking antigravity, or by forming an invisible platform to stand on. If you
make yourself light, there must be countless ways to do it: by decreasing the
mass of your body, or by making your body repel the ground, or be attracted to
the sky, or some combination of those. Only your imagination limits your
ability to fly. The same is true for other kinds of magic. If you want to be
strong, there is giant strength, ogre strength, dragon strength, and so on. You
can't run out unless you lose your ability to think of new variants.”

 As he spoke, Surprise's jaw slowly
dropped. So did Umlaut's. And Clio's. Sherlock was right: there would not be
time enough in Surprise's life to use up all the possible variants of her
talents.

 “Oh, you've given me back my
talent!” Surprise said, planting a kiss on him. “I don't have to
conserve anymore!”

 “Just conserve the easiest ways,
for emergencies,” he said, standing a little unsteady from the kiss.
Kisses had that effect; it was inherent in their nature, like panties only less
so. “Use the more difficult variants for routine situations.”

 “I will!”

 “Now conjure a bell of partial
silence for Ciriana. One that blots out only bad adult words. So we can't hear
them.”

 “Yes!” A translucent hat
appeared on Ciriana's head, reaching down around her face."

 “------” the child said. It
was working.

 “That's fine, dear,” Clio
said. “We'll take care of you.” For this was a stopgap measure; they
still had to figure out a permanent one.

 “What about Lethe Elixir?”
Umlaut asked. “So she'll forget the bad words.”

 “That should help,” Clio
agreed. “I happen to know where there's a small lethe spring not far
distant.”

 “Then the only problem will be
preventing her from hearing them again,” Surprise said.

 “True. But let's go to the lethe
first. Meanwhile we can ponder subsequent measures.”

 Surprise, Umlaut, and Ciriana got into
the boat, and Sherlock and Umlaut paddled them in the direction Clio indicated.
They made fair progress physically, but less in finding a permanent solution.

 The lethe spring was a small offshoot
that had gotten lost from its parent spring some time ago; evidently it had
forgotten its home, being what it was, and wandered to the Region of Water. It
was on another island that local folk knew better than to visit. The thing
about lethe water was that it caused forgetting, and the more of it one was
exposed to, the worse the loss of memory. A single drop could make a person
forget a single word; a deep drink could make a person forget his own identity.

 They reached the island. “This
water is dangerous,” Clio said. “Therefore only Ciriana and I should
go to the spring.”

 “I insist on accompanying
you,” Sherlock said. “So you won't forget me.” He smiled, but
his concern was clearly serious.

 “I insist you don't,” she
said. “So you are in no danger of forgetting me”

 He spread his hands, yielding.
“But if you don't return soon, I will investigate.”

 “Do,” she agreed. She took
Ciriana by the hand and led her along the path to the spring. “Now I will
sprinkle a drop of water on you and speak a word. You will forget that word.
Then I will do it for another word, until all the bad ones are gone. Then you
won't have to be concerned about freaking out other children.”

 “Okay,” the girl agreed
amicably.

 “Now tell me the other bad words
you know.”

 “@@@@. &&&&. \ \ \
\,” Ciriana said sweetly.

 Clio's vision turned flaming red and
the sky seemed to wobble. Grass along the path died. To make it worse, Clio
would have to repeat those words to abolish them. She wasn't sure her tongue
could manage it without blistering. But she would have to try.

 “Where did you learn such
words?” she asked when her equilibrium cleared somewhat.

 “A nice harpy roosted on a tree
behind our house. I used to talk with her. She taught me a lot of great
stuff.”

 That figured. “Please don't talk
with harpies anymore.”

 “Okay.”

 Then it occurred to her that the harpy
might have shared more than words. “Dear, what do you know of stork
summoning?”

 “I know all about it,”
Ciriana said proudly. “First the mommy and daddy take off their clothes.
Then she lies down on the bed, and he-”

 “That will do, dear. I'm sure you
do have it straight.” Clio was blushing already. They were lucky the
little girl hadn't thought to try it herself. Yet.

 “Person ahead,” Drew
reported. “His name is Joe.”

 She had forgotten the dragon. It was as
though the very proximity of the lethe spring was affecting her awareness.
“Thank you.”

 They came to the spring. Joe was there,
about to dip out a cup of water.

 “Joe!” she called.
“Don't drink that water! It will make you forget!”

 “But I'm thirsty,” Joe called
back.

 “Any other water will do. Just not
this water. Please move away from the spring.”

 “All right,” Joe agreed. He
started walking away from it, down the path toward her, still holding the cup.

 Clio stepped to the side, but Joe
stepped the same way. So she stepped the other way, but he did also, at the
same time. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he said. “It's my talent.”

 “Your talent?”

 “Always being in the way.”

 “Oh. Then you stand still, and I
will go around you.”

 “Sure.” He stood still.

 She stepped around him, but though he
did not move, she somehow bumped into him. The water in the cup splashed out.
She had thought he had been about to dip; it seemed he had already dipped.
Before she could react, the water soaked her.

 She forgot everything.

 Then she remembered. Sherlock was
there. “Come away from here,” he said, guiding her.

 “What happened? I was about
to-” She felt her wet shirt. “In fact I-”

 “I reversed it,” he said.

 “Oh, with reverse wood. Thank you.
I was in danger of losing my memory!” She gazed somewhat dazedly around.
“Drew! Where-?”

 “I wasn't splashed,” the
little dragon said. “I summoned Sherlock, and he came to rescue you.”

 But she wasn't sure this made complete
sense. She had been dosed with lethe water, and should have forgotten
everything. So how could she remember? Reverse wood might enable her to
remember new things, but the old things should have been permanently
obliterated.

 “He touched you, and your memories
came back,” Drew said.

 She would have thought that impossible,
but obviously she did have her memories back. Maybe the lethe had not been full
strength. “That young man, Joe-”

 “He reversed too,” Drew said.
“Now his talent is never getting in the way. In fact he's out of the way
now.”

 “But lethe couldn't do that!”

 “It didn't. Sherlock did it.”

 How could that be? Reverse wood might
reverse a single episode, but not a full talent. But now they came up to the
others, and her confusion was lost amidst the press of explanations.

 Only when they were back in the boat
and moving across the water did she remember the main thing: “Ciriana! We
never made you forget those words!”

 “What words?” the child asked
innocently.

 “The ones you were saying. The bad
ones.”

 “I don't remember them.”

 “And the secret of summoning the
stork.”

 Ciriana looked blank. “Storks are
summoned?”

 “You mean you don't
remember?”

 “Storks are birds, aren't they? I
don't know any more about them.”

 Clio stared at the child, amazed. She
must somehow have been dosed with lethe water after all, and had forgotten all
the forbidden knowledge. But how could there have been such selectivity,
without guidance?

 Then a harpy flew over them. “Get
away from my territorial waters, you boatful of ^^^^!” she screeched.

 The water around them roiled and
bubbled with the force of the bad expression. Sherlock and Umlaut frowned, and
Surprise's face froze. The only one unaffected was Ciriana. She had not
understood the word at all, or perhaps had not even heard it.

 The child had not merely forgotten the
words and concepts. Her immunity to the Adult Conspiracy had been nullified.

 Something was weird. But Clio couldn't
figure out quite how. So she let it be, for now.

 They reached the edge of the Region of
Water, and solid land. They returned the boat. “This is where we get
off,” Surprise said. “Thanks so much for rescuing us. But what about
Ciriana?”

 “We need to take her home,”
Clio said. “She'll fit in there, now.”

 Sherlock frowned. “These were the
folk who stranded her on an island. Regardless of the provocation, should these
be considered fit parents?”

 That question required no answer.
“Where else?” Clio asked.

 “Good adoptive parents,”
Umlaut said.

 “And how do we locate these?”
Sherlock asked.

 “Surprise can use the talent of
pointing the right direction for anything. That should show the way.”

 “I can do that,” Surprise
agreed. She closed her eyes, turned around, extended one arm, and oriented
roughly south. “That way,” she said. “I don't know how far; that
seems vague. But there are definitely good parents there.”

 “Look at your compass,” Drew
said.

 Clio looked. The blue arrow was
pointing exactly the direction Surprise was. The red arrow was gone.

 “It seems we are going that
way,” Clio said. “We'll take her.”

 “That's good,” Surprise said.
“She'll make some family very happy, now that she's lost her curse.”

 She surely would. “I'm glad we
happened by,” Clio said. “It would have been a shame to leave Ciriana
on that island.”

 “Well, we'll be on our way,”
Surprise said. She turned to Umlaut. “Do you think we can find a private
place?”

 “Well, uh-”

 “This time I'll do the
searching.”

 “Okay.”

 They kissed and disappeared. Surprise
was already using more of her magic.

 “That's a remarkable girl,”
Sherlock said.

 “Yes. Remind me to tell you her
story, when we have time on our hands.”

 “Tell me her story,”
Ciriana said.

 Clio laughed. “In due course.
First we must get started south.”

 The child started to cloud up.
“Maybe just part of it,” Sherlock suggested.

 That seemed to be a good compromise.
“The stork got confused, and by the time it delivered Surprise to her
parents, she was five years old-your age. That's why they named her Surprise;
she really surprised them.”

 Ciriana clapped her hands. “My
age!” she said, pleased.

 “It's a good age,” Sherlock
said. “They were very glad to have her.”

 Clio glanced at Sherlock. “I don't
want to use the trollway again; for some odd reason I distrust its evening
facilities.”

 Sherlock looked around. “A section
of the Water Region is to our south. We may need to borrow the boat
again.”

 “But we don't know how far we are
going. We could have trouble returning it.”

 “Then we may have to walk around
the lake.”

 “Whatever,” Clio said, though
the notion of an extended walk bothered her. She was getting older every hour,
and the daily dangers she faced were getting worse; she needed to get back to
Mount Parnassus. But what was there to do except follow the blue arrow?

 They started south, and came to a man
sitting on a stump. He looked depressed.

 “Hello,” Clio said.

 “Ungh,” he replied morosely.

 This was not a good sign, but their
direction as indicated by the blue arrow seemed to pass right through the man.
She doubted it was coincidence. “I am Clio, and these are Sherlock and
Ciriana. We are traveling south.”

 “I am Mister E, and I have no idea
where I'm going.”

 “I can see how that would be
depressing. What is your talent?”

 “I have no idea.”

 “So it's a mystery,” Sherlock
murmured. Ciriana laughed.

 Mister E-mystery. It was a pun. But
rooted in the man's nature; that was why he didn't know much about himself.
“Well, come along with us, and maybe we'll figure it out.” She never
would have issued such an invitation if it were not for the blue arrow and her
need to proceed efficiently.

 E stood. He was a tall and moderately
homely man. “Might as well.”

 They walked on south. Before long they
came to a fork in the road. It was oddly shaped, and there were strange sounds
associated with it. Some were melodic, others discordant. They didn't know what
to make of it, or which fork to take; both roads went south, parallel to each
other.

 There was a man sitting at the side. He
looked to be just shy of age thirty. Clio approached him. “Hello, I am
Clio.” She introduced the other members of her party.

 “I am Bill,” the man said.
“You are surely wondering about the fork.”

 “Yes we are. We are traveling
south, but both roads look the same.”

 “They aren't. Take the right fork;
that's the harmonious one. The other is discordant and will lead you to nothing
but trouble. It is infested by discord-ants.”

 “We'll take the right one. Thank
you.”

 “That's what I'm here for.”

 “But doesn't it get dull, sitting
here all day just to advise travelers?”

 “Not at all. My girlfriend Elem
stops by frequently.”

 “Elem?”

 “Miss Elem N. Tery. Things are
always marvelously clear to her.”

 Clio recognized another pun:
elementary. They came thick and fast on the regular paths of Xanth. “I'm
sure she's quite something.”

 They moved on. Ciriana was getting
tired, and Clio knew they would have to stop soon, so as not to wear out the
child, but she hoped for some better way to travel.

 Soon they found another man. This one
was busy carving objects of wood. They weren't very good examples of art, but
he seemed satisfied. The blue arrow pointed through him also.

 “Hello,” Clio said.

 The new man turned out to be Darron,
the twin brother of Darren, about whom she had once written. Darren made one
thing into another; Darron endowed inanimate objects with magical properties.

 “What we could really use is
something to carry us,” Clio said. “But I fear none of your little
carvings will suffice.”

 “But I know what will,”
Darron said. “Here.” He got up and went to a huge plant by the edge
of the path. It had a long stalk bearing a single giant pink flower. “This
is a car-nation. Watch.”

 He touched the flower. It lit up in
several places and dropped to the ground, purring like a great animal. This way
up, the petals manifested as the backs of seats, and some curled-up leaves were
wheels. “Ride this,” Darron said proudly.

 They did. There was room for all of
them. Sherlock found a steering wheel and related controls. “This is a
car, all right,” he said. “Funny in design, but similar to some I
used in Mundania. Let's see if I remember how to make it go.”

 Evidently he did, because the vehicle
suddenly lurched forward with a squeal of tires. They waved to Darron as they
zoomed on down the trail.

 “This is certainly more
comfortable,” Clio said. “If you see a pie tree, pause there so we
can get something to eat.” She glanced around. “In fact there is one
now.”

 The car went right on past it.

 “Sherlock-”

 “I tried to stop. The controls
don't respond. It seems I only thought I was driving; it's really driving
itself.”

 Clio was uneasy about this, but did not
want to alarm the child. “I'm sure there's some purpose in it.”

 The road ended abruptly at an arm of
the lake. There was a huge boat there, right at the edge. The car-nation
chugged right onto it and stopped. Then the boat cast off and moved onto the
lake.

 “Where is this?” Ciriana
asked.

 “This is the Fanta Sea,” Mr.
E replied.

 “The Fanta Sea!” Clio
repeated. “But this isn't where it is supposed to be.”

 “It is wherever it chooses to
be,” E said. “Even in Mundania.”

 “Mundania!”

 He shrugged. “So I'm told.”

 Certainly it seemed to be here,
regardless where it had been when she had written about it before. Like the
traveling fields, it went where it wished.

 They got out of the car and walked
around the boat. “This seems to be a ferry,” Sherlock said. “We
were the last car to board it.”

 “And it seems we are going where
it is taking us,” she said grimly. But the blue arrow pointed exactly the
way the ferryboat was going.

 The occupants of one of the other cars
approached. “We are the Maidens China, Japan, and Mexico,” one said.

 “Oh! I wrote about-I mean, I
happened to know-the Maiden Taiwan. I wonder-”

 “She is our sister,” China
said.

 “But she-she's rather older than
she looks. I'm not sure how-”

 “So are we,” Japan said.
“But we remain young as long as we remain on the Fanta Sea.”

 “It's enchanted,” Mexico
said.

 “So you are actually 170 years
old,” Clio said, doing some quick figuring.

 “Yes,” China said. “And
if we ever leave the Fanta Sea and step into reality, we'll look it.”

 “So we are on a perpetual
cruise,” Japan said. “Here on the Acquaintance Ship.”

 “I thought it was a
ferryboat,” Sherlock said.

 They laughed. “It's a fairy
boat,” Mexico said. “See, it has a mast and sail.”

 They looked, and discovered that this
was indeed a sailing ship. Clio could have sworn that it had lacked a mast
before, but she had been distracted by their manner of boarding it.

 “What a sweet child you
have,” China said. “Would you like some pie, sweetie?”

 Ciriana, suddenly shy again, hesitated.

 “And eye scream,” Japan
added.

 “And chocolate sauce,” Mexico
said.

 That did it. Ciriana went to their
cabin.

 “And to think, we could have had
pie and eye scream too, if we had just been young enough,” Sherlock said.

 But Clio was distracted. “Didn't
we come here in a car? Where is it now?”

 “Why, right here.” Then he
paused in midglance. “It's another cabin!”

 “This really is a magic ship. It
changes according to the need. Car to cab.” She went to the cabin, which
was a cute cottage with a thatched roof and pink flowers growing under its
windows. She looked inside, and found a compact kitchen with several pies and
fruits on its counter, and a double bed. It was ideal.

 “But what of Ciriana?” she
asked herself. Then she saw a smaller bed to the side; she must have overlooked
it before. “And Mr. E?” At which point she saw another cabin to the
side, to which E was going.

 Fairy ships were rather special, it
seemed. No wonder the Maiden sisters liked cruising.

 They fetched pies and fruits and joined
E on the deck facing out on the sea. Now Clio saw that the Maidens and Ciriana
had similar deck chairs next to theirs. The little girl was having a fine time.
There was another child with them, a girl a year or so younger than Ciriana.
Her name, it seemed, was Cricket, and her talent was to produce music by
rubbing her hands together. It was lovely music.

 “Private dialog with
Sherlock,” Clio said to Drew. Immediately the little dragons connected
them so they could talk without being overheard by others.

 “There is something on your
appealing mind?” Sherlock inquired. There was something about his phrasing
that did indeed appeal to her. He liked her mind and nature, rather than her
body. He really did, the dragons had assured her.

 “Yes. The three Maidens seem like
nice folk. Do you think Ciriana would like to stay with them, and with Cricket,
and cruise perpetually on the Fanta Sea?”

 “She might,” he agreed.
“But would she ever grow up?”

 Clio hadn't thought of that. “I
suspect she would remain a child of five forever.”

 “She would,” Drew said.
“Cricket has been four for twenty years.”

 “Twenty years!”

 “Is that her best outcome?”
Sherlock asked.

 Clio considered. To be always a child,
with nice people, on a boat with everything provided. “It may be.”

 “What is the price?”

 That brought her up short. Few things
in Xanth were really free, however they might seem at first. The ship or the
sea must extract some return. “I think we had better find out.”

 “We can tell you,” Drew said.
“We've been into the Maidens' minds.”

 “It's the soul,” Drusie said.

 “The soul!”

 “One percent per year, until in a
century it's all gone,” Drew said. “Then the person has either to
leave or go to work.”

 “But what life would there be
outside for a person without a soul? She'd soon be very unpopular.”