Faun and Games (3 page)

"If only I had the faintest notion how," he said in anguish.

There was a swirl of smoke.
 
It formed into a large pot labeled SEX.
 
"I

should have thought a faun already knew how," it said. "But I suppose I

could show you, if-"

He should have known that the demoness hadn't really gone.
 
She was

still hoping he might do something entertaining.
 
"How to find a

suitable spirit for the clog tree," he clarified.
 
"Naturally you have

no better notion than I do."

"Naturally not," the pot agreed, its label changing to KETTLE as it

turned black.
 
"I would never think of going to ask the Good Magician

Humfrey.
 
The last time I suggested that, I had to guide a stupid

gargoyle there, and he wound up saving Xanth from whatever.
 
Actually

that adventure did have its points; it certainly was interesting."

The kettle formed back into the luscious lady shape.
 
"So there's no

point in suggesting it, especially since the Good Magician charges a

year's Service for an Answer.
 
So you might as well abandon all hope and

just let the stupid tree die."

"I'll go see the Good Magician!" Forrest exclaimed.
 
Then he realized

that she had tricked him into reacting, just as he had tried to trick

her.
 
He had said it, and the clog tree had heard; its leaves were

becoming almost wholesome.
 
Now he had to do it.
 
But a year's Service?

"I can't leave my own tree that long," he protested belatedly. "And I

don't even know the way there."

"You need a guide," Mentia said.
 
"I need to go bother my better half

some more, but I can find a friend to show you the way to Humfrey's

castle."

"I don't want any friend of yours!"

"Excellent.
 
You will find her just as lusciously annoying as I am. I'll

be right back with her." The demoness popped off.

Again, he had said the wrong thing.
 
But he was now committed to going.

How would the trees fare during his absence?
 
He didn't want them to

suffer, but there didn't seem to be much of an alternative.

But there might be a way to get some help on that.
 
There was a cave

nearby, where a nice cousin of Com Pewter dwelt.
 
She was ComPassion,

and she loved everybody, because a love spring flowed in her cave.
 
Her

powers were limited, but she would do any favor she could manage for the

local folk.
 
Maybe she would be able to help the trees.

Unfortunately, there was a complication about dealing with her, which

was why he normally stayed clear.
 
But at the moment he didn't seem to

have much choice.
 
He would just have to hope that it would work out all

right.

He fetched his knapsack, which he always used when going far from his

tree, and ran through field and dale until he came to Passion's cave.

Lovely purple flowers grew at its entrance, and the scent of the air was

sweet.

Oh, no!
 
He had in his haste forgotten something important.
 
It was

usual to bring a little gift to Passion when visiting her.
 
It wasn't

exactly to put her in a good mood, because she was always in a good

mood.
 
It wasn't just protocol, either.
 
It was that a gift tended to

make her feel that she should do something in return-and he really

needed that return favor.

What could he find for a gift?
 
Passion's main weakness was that she

couldn't do anything physical.
 
She couldn't walk out of her cave and

see the sights or pick the flowers.
 
So sometimes folk brought her

stories of the things outside, to keep her informed.
 
But he suspected

he would need more than that.

Then he remembered something.
 
The chips!
 
Passion loved chips. What she

did with them no one knew, but she truly valued them.
 
He knew where

some nice chips grew.

He ran to the glade where the chips were.
 
Sure enough, there was a nice

new crop of them.
 
Chips of every kind grew in profusion. Which ones

would please her most?
 
He pondered briefly, then went for a Potato

Chip.
 
The moment he harvested it, he felt the urge to speak, and his

words were really salty.
 
He also felt extremely thirsty. He quickly put

it into his knapsack and sealed it shut.

Across the glade was a brown region.
 
He went there and harvested a

Chocolate Chip.
 
It smelled good enough to eat, but he didn't dare take

time for that now.
 
If he ate one, he might get a hunger for more, and

be unable to stop.
 
So he popped it quickly into his bag.

One more should do it.
 
He looked around, and saw an old block in the

center of the glade.
 
So he went and took a chip off that.
 
It was very

stubborn and didn't want to turn loose, but when he touched it he got

stubborn too, and finally did pry the chip off the old block.

He nerved himself and entered the cave.
 
It was very nice inside. He

knew that it was really a rather ordinary cave, but the overflow from

the love spring ran through it, and some of the water evaporated and

suffused the air.
 
That was part of the complication.
 
He would have

tried to breathe through a cloth or something, but that would be

impolite, and impoliteness was bad form when one came begging a favor.

So he took it in stride, and his stride was good.
 
He reached the

center, where reclined a device fashioned of passion wood.
 
fle stopped

and took a breath.

Before he spoke, a screen lighted.
 
Who is there,?
 
it inquired in neat

cursive script.

"Forrest Faun," he said.
 
"From the nearby sandalwood tree."

WHY DEAR BOY HOW VERY NICE TO SEE YOU.
 
THE SCREEN SAID WITH A SWEET ROW

OF HEARTS ACROSS THE BOTTOM.

"Uh, likewise, I'm sure," he said.
 
This wasn't going well.
 
"Uh, I

brought you a gift."

The screen glowed brightly.
 
Why how ve thoughtful of you, dear boy! And

the hearts grew larger.
 
V y If T T y Not well at all!
 
"Uh, here they

are." He fumbled in his bag and pulled out the Chocolate Chip.
 
"A sweet

for the sweet." He found another chip and fumbled it out.
 
"A salt for

the salty." oops; that wasn't right. So he rushed on to the third: "And

a chip off the old block for the stubborn." Worse yet!

Why dear boy, I believe you are flustered the screen said, smiling.

"Uh, yes," he confessed.
 
He was two centuries old, but felt like an

adolescent elf.

How ve sweet.
 
The screen turned Valentine pink.
 
And what is your

request of me, dear boy."

Forrest launched into his story of the fate of Branch Faun and the need

to save his tree.
 
"So I must go ask the Good Magician what to do," he

concluded.
 
"But I can't even leave my own tree that long, safely.
 
So I

thought maybe you could, well, sort of change reality to make the trees

all right, for a while, if you wanted to, until I get back." Suddenly it

seemed rather stupid.

So all this is just to help a tree?

"Yes," he confessed, feeling woefully inadequate.
 
The whole notion was

ridiculous.
 
He would have to find some other way.
 
"But I guess you

have more important things to do.
 
I'm sorry I bothered you."

Dear boy, you have such a generous spirit, I really like you.
 
Of course

you must save the tree.
 
I will help you."

"You will?" He was amazed.
 
He had thought it so trivial, as far as

anyone else was concerned, but now it seemed important again.

Yes.
 
Of course I have my price.

Dread surged back.
 
What changed reality would she require of him?

"Yes."

You kpow I have a romantic nature, bUt that I am a machine.
 
I can only

dream of love, not actually experience it.

"Yes." This sounded worse.

But I can on occasion approximate love, if I have a cooperativ(?

partner.

She could?
 
What was she going to make him do?
 
But he was stuck for it.

"Yes."

Kiss my mouse.

"But you don't have a mouth, ComPassion."

Not mouth.
 
Mouse.

"What?"

I have a mouse, she explained patiently.
 
I want you to kiss it.
 
What

term do you not understand?

"But-a mouse?"

A small living creature, usqfulfor going where I am unable to go.

In this case, romance.

She thought it would be romantic for him to kiss her mouse?
 
"I- if I

have to-"

Be than1/2f&l I managed to exchange the donkey I had recently for the

mouse.
 
It was an asinine creature.

He certainly wouldn't have wanted to kiss her asinine creature. "Okay."

Then the cave chamber shimmered, and he knew she was changin(i reality.

It became a lovely glade surrounded by red, green, purple, yellow, and

orange trees, with their assorted round fruits of similar colors, and

flour plants growing in the center.
 
From the far side came the

prettiest nymph he could remember seeing, with thick lustrous brown hair

that spread out to form a cloak for her body.
 
But it could not conceal