Heaven Cent (2 page)

Still, his mother had spoken. She knew he didn't want a companion, certainly not an adult. She figured that would turn him off the Quest. But perhaps he could get around her by getting a companion who wouldn't be too obnoxious. It could be a real art—getting around parents—but it was possible if one truly put his mind to it.

“All right,” he said. “But I get to choose him.”

King Dor kept a straight face, which meant he was trying not to smile. That was a good sign. They both knew that Queen Irene would want a female centaur; if Dolph got this past her, he would win half the battle at the outset.

“Very well,” she said after a significant pause. “But we must approve him.”

Urn. That could be a devastating qualification. She would not approve anyone he really liked, only someone she liked. How could he get around mat?

Dolph had a quick, juvenile mind. In only three seconds he had figured out a way. “Done,” he said. “I'll make my choice tomorrow.”

“Certainly,” Queen Irene agreed with one of her smooth masked smiles. She thought she had him.

“This'll be fun, twerp,” the chair remarked insolently.

King Dor said nothing. He knew better than to get in the way of a contest of wills like this. That was why he was King.

Back in his room, Dolph pondered names. His strategy was simple: he would make a series of suggestions so awful that his mother would reject them with queenly outrage. She was good at that. Then he would slip in the one he wanted, and it would seem so sensible by comparison that she would agree before she really thought about it. She might regret it later, but she would be committed. A Queen never went back on her word; it looked bad, and she was very conscious of her appearance.

The one he had in mind was Grundy Golem. Grundy was an obnoxious, loudmouthed little creature, fashioned from wood and string and rag and later made real by the Demon X(A/N)th. He had an insult for every occasion. Therefore he could be a lot of fun. He also spoke every language that existed, both animal and plant, and that could be handy on a trip into the wilds of Xanth. He was married to Rapunzel, who was a sickeningly nice little woman at all times except when she got a snarl in her hair. That was because her hair was endlessly long. Then she could speak almost as interestingly as Grundy as she fought with the tangle. Grundy was devoted to her, but he liked adventure too, so would probably agree to travel with Dolph.

Now all he needed was a suitably awful list of names. Who would really turn off his mother? Well, there was Brontes the Cyclops, the huge one-eyed monster who lived -in a cave and ate people. There was the Gerrymander, who was continually dividing and conquering, changing his shape into the most grotesque configurations. And Pook, the ghost horse. But he needed more names, in case his mother was too canny to be fooled by only three.

Dolph jumped on his bed, bounced a couple of times, then swung his legs over the side. A cold hand shot out from the shadow under the bed and grabbed his ankle.

“Hey!” he cried. “You aren't Handy!” Handy was his regular bed monster.

“How can you tell?” a voice inquired from under the bed.

“His hand is big and hairy. Yours is skinny.”

The hand let go. There was a scramble and clatter under the bed. “I resent that! My hands have no skin. They are skeletal.” Then the thing under the bed crawled out. It was a walking skeleton.

“What are you doing under there, Marrow?” Dolph asked. “Where's Handicraft?” He now used his bed monster's full name, because he was alarmed; he inherited that from his mother.

"He went to visit Snortimer. I agreed to fill in while he was gone. We thought you wouldn't notice.”

“Not notice!” Dolph exclaimed. “Your hand isn't anything like his! And you only have two of them!”

“True,” Marrow agreed, disgruntled. “I suppose it was a foolish attempt. But he did so want to see Snortimer again, and I had nothing to do, so—” He shrugged, his bones rattling apologetically.

“Why should he care about Snortimer?” That was Ivy's monster under the bed, who had departed for the realm of the fauns and nymphs, taking Ivy's bed with him. Ivy never had gotten over her snit about that, even though a bed-bug had moved in that was twice as big and soft as the bed she had lost. She had declared herself to be grown up, so that she no longer believed in bed monsters. It was Dolph's private opinion that Snortimer had gotten out just in time. It was doom for monsters when children stopped believing in them. Dolph intended never to do that to Handy.

“It wasn't Snortimer so much as his situation,” Marrow said. “The news circulated that he had more nymphly ankles to grab than he could possibly keep up with, and was liable to perish from sheer delight. Handy thought he should investigate the situation, in case Snort needed help.”

“What's wrong with the ankles around here?” Dolph demanded.

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I'm sure,” Marrow said quickly. “But it just would not do to have poor Snortimer expire from overwork.”

“Any monster who would rather grab a nymphly ankle than mine is a jerk!” Dolph declared righteously. “What could he possibly see in them?”

“I admit to being baffled,” Marrow said. “Full-fleshed ankles and legs—no appeal at all.” Then, diplomatically, he added: “Present company excepted, of course.”

Dolph decided that Marrow was all right. The skeleton had arrived after Esk Ogre and Chex Centaur restored the Kiss-Mee River to its curvaceous state, making it affectionate again. Marrow had been rescued from the Lost Path in the gourd, and now served as a general helper around the castle. He was especially good in the dungeon, because he didn't mind cobwebs or rats. In fact, he normally rested his bones there, lending excellent atmosphere. Visitors not in the know could be quite startled. He even had a convenient hollow finger bone, with which he could whistle for his friend Chex when he needed a lift.

“Maybe I'll add you to the list,” Dolph said.

“List?”

Dolph explained about his campaign to trick his mother into agreeing to let Grundy Golem be his companion for the Quest. “You're adult, aren't you? You should qualify. You'd give her a real fit!”

“Excellent notion,” Marrow agreed. “Perhaps I can suggest some additional names. What about Cumulo Fracto Nimbus?”

“Terrific!” Dolph exclaimed. “That will really dampen her!” Fracto was the King of Clouds, and was a foul-weather friend. One could never tell when he was going to throw a storm and tear things up with lightning bolts. The very notion of Fracto hovering over her carpets would send Queen Irene into a femalish frenzy.

“Then there's Hardy Harpy, and Xap Hippogryph,” Marrow said. “Not to mention Stanley Steamer.”

“Great!” Dolph agreed enthusiastically. “Those will drive her crazy! She won't know what she's doing!”

So it was decided. Marrow crawled back under the bed, which was as comfortable a place for his bones as any, and Dolph tuned his magic mirror in on the Tapestry in Ivy's room. Unfortunately she was letting it run random; there was nothing interesting on. That was the problem with big sisters; they had no taste in viewing.

Next day he started his program. “Marrow Bones,” he said. “I want him for my companion.” Irene nodded. “Yes, I think that is an excellent choice.” “Well, then, how about Cumulo Fracto Nim—what?”

“Marrow is adult, mature, and experienced,” Irene said.

“He has a good skull on his shoulders. I understand he was a great help to Chex Centaur. There is also no problem about feeding him. I commend you for your perspicacity in selecting him.”

Dolph didn't know what “perspicacity” meant, but he knew he didn't like it. How could she agree to the first foolish name he had named? It wasn't fair! Now he was stuck with the walking skeleton! “Uh, yeah,” he said. Maybe Marrow wouldn't want to go.

But by the time he got back to his room, he decided that maybe it was better to stick with what he had. Marrow was a decent sort; for one thing, not only did he believe in the monster under the bed, he helped him. That made him childlike in a way that counted. He would do anything for anyone, and he could keep a secret.

So it was arranged: Dolph would go on his Quest to solve the mystery of the Good Magician's disappearance, and Marrow Bones would be his companion. The Adventure would Begin.

They set off next morning, walking east along the enchanted path. It was a two day trek at normal human pace, so Irene had made Dolph wear a knapsack filled with sandwiches, spare socks, a small magic mirror, and other such motherly inconveniences. “Be sure to wash your face every morning,” she had admonished him. “And don't forget behind the ears.” Dolph had almost died of disgust right there.

Marrow carried nothing, for he had need of neither food nor clothing. He was a magical creature, for whom the rules were different. As Dolph's legs began to tire from the long walk, he envied the skeleton increasingly.

“What makes you go?” he inquired.

“Magic. And you?”

So much for that conversation! Evidently skeletons were not strong on imagination. That wasn't surprising, considering their empty skulls.

“I'm hungry,” Dolph said.

“That's why your mother packed sandwiches.”

That reminder did not thrill him either. “I could change into a dragon and catch myself something to eat.”

“I have never understood why living folk like torn flesh,” Marrow remarked.

Suddenly Dolph wasn't hungry. He continued walking in his human form.

“If I may inquire . . .” the skeleton said.

“Who's stopping you?”

“Why are we walking?”

How stupid could a creature get? “How else can we get to the Good Magician's castle?”

“I thought you might change into a bird and fly there.”

“Mother said I have to have adult company,” Dolph said witheringly. “And you can't fly.”

“Can you change into a big bird?”

“Sure. Any size. Even a roc. So what?”

“I thought you might become such a bird, and carry me directly to the castle.”

Now there was an idea! Dolph stopped, removed his pack, then hesitated. “I have to get out of my clothes because they don't change.”

“I shall be happy to hold your pack and your clothes,” Marrow said.

“But Mother doesn't like me to run around naked.”

“That's odd. I don't see your mother here.”

“Of course she isn't here, numbskull! She's back at Castle Roogna!” Then Dolph made a connection. “You mean—she can't say no?”

“That had occurred to me.”

Maybe the skeleton wasn't so stupid after all. Dolph scrambled out of his clothes, bundled them up, and handed them to Marrow with the knapsack. Then he changed to a roc.

Now he was monstrously hugely big! He clucked with satisfaction. Rocs couldn't talk in human fashion, but they hardly needed to. Nobody backtalked a roc!

“But perhaps—” Marrow began.

Was he chickening out now? Well, it was too late.

Dolph picked up the skeleton with one claw, spread his wings—and whacked his feathers into the trees on either side. Ouch!

“—we should look for a suitable clearing first,” Marrow concluded.

Good point. Dolph reverted to human form, recovered his clothes, dressed, and resumed motion down the path. Why did things always have to get complicated?

In due course they came to a glade that seemed big enough. Dolph changed again, spread his wings cautiously, and verified that there was room.

“Still—” Marrow said.

Dolph picked up the skeleton again, pumped his wings and sailed into the trees at the edge of the glade. He suffered a horrendous crash, and the trees seemed hardly more pleased than he. A small shower of leaves came down.

“—we should look for a longer runway,” Marrow concluded.

Dolph reverted to boy form and picked himself up. His left little finger was hurting. Then he saw a broken feather on the ground, and realized that he had lost it in the crash. Part of his fingernail was missing. The injuries suffered in one form carried over into the other. He stuck his finger in his mouth, displeased.

They marched on, and before long came to a broad expanse of fields. Dolph changed again, spread his wings, sighted ahead to make sure he had sufficient runway, and picked up the skeleton.

“Yet—” Marrow said.

This time Dolph paused.

“—perhaps we should check for the wind,” Marrow concluded.

The wind? Dolph lifted his beak. He felt a nice stiff breeze blowing in exactly the direction he wanted to fly. No problem there! He began to flap his wings.

“Because—” Marrow said.

Dolph pumped harder, and hopped into the air. Immediately he was moving, borne by the breeze. But though he flapped hard, somehow he could not rise very far. In a moment a low hill came up and scraped his legs, throwing him out of control. He skidded to a stop, losing another feather.

“—a tailwind can make it difficult to gain elevation,” the skeleton concluded.

Dolph resumed boy form. There was a gash on his right (high that smarted something awful. “Have you any other remarks to make?” he asked acidly.

“Me? Of course not,” Marrow said.

"Well, then, how can I get into the air when everything always goes wrong?''

“Perhaps if you take off into a headwind, it will be more effective.”

“But the wind will push me back!”

“I confess that it seems nonsensical, but I have seen birds do it that way.”

“Well, okay, but if I crash again, it's your fault!”

“Naturally,” Marrow agreed without rancor. His blood never got riled, because he had none.

They walked downwind until they had plenty of runway. Then Dolph changed yet again, oriented, spread his wings, picked up the skeleton, and paused.

Sure enough, Marrow had a thought. “Yet—”

This time Dolph waited for the conclusion.

“—perhaps you should eat first.”

Eat? He was hungry, but that could wait. He was eager to get on to the Good Magician's castle and get on with the adventure!

He pumped his wings and jumped into the air. The headwind caught him immediately, giving him excellent lift. There was no question about his ability to fly high now! He was on his way!

Then he furled his wings somewhat and glided back to ground. He made a pretty good landing, then changed back to boy form. “Why?”

“Because I understand that flying requires a lot of energy, and energy for living creatures comes from the food they ingest,” Marrow explained.

Dolph thought about what would happen if he ran out of energy over some deep ocean or where a dragon was lurking nearby. “Okay, I'll eat. Give me my knapsack.”

“I wonder—”

Dolph impatiently grabbed the knapsack. He fished out a sandwich, then paused.

“—whether energy is relative or absolute,” Marrow finished.

“What are you talking about?”

“It occurs to me that you have sandwiches for only a few meals. They might go farther if—”

Dolph opened his mouth to take a huge bite, but paused again, bite untaken. He waited.

“—you consumed them in smaller size.”

Dolph thought about that. “You know, when I'm in a big form, like a sphinx, I can eat an awful lot, but I get hungry again the same time even if I turn small. When I'm small, and I eat, then I turn big and I still get hungry in the same time. I never thought about it before.”

“So if you ate a crumb in ant form, it might last you as long as a whole sandwich in boy form, or a whole carcass in roc form,” Marrow said.

“I guess so.” Dolph looked at the sandwich. “But if I became an ant, someone might step on me.”

Marrow picked a bit of bread from the sandwich and held it in his bone-fingered hand. “I will not step on you.”

And of course he would not; Marrow never hurt anyone. Dolph realized that this was one excellent use of a companion: to protect him when for some reason he was in a vulnerable state. Of course, he would not go so far as to concede that his mother might have had a point about the need for a companion, but certainly there could be an advantage.

He reached out and took hold of the end of Marrow's bone finger with two of his own flesh fingers. Then he became an ant. Suddenly he was clinging by the hairs of one leg to that huge white bone. But in the small form he weighed so little that it was easy to cling, and indeed, if he fell he would not be hurt. He climbed up to thie top of the finger, then walked along it to the network of bones that was the hand. There perched the crumb. He bit into it, and it was delicious, the ideal ant food.

Soon he was full, and the crumb was only partly gone. He walked to the end of a finger and jumped off. As he fell he changed back to boy form. He still felt full. “Let's go!” he said. “I'm full of energy now!”

Marrow gathered up the pack and clothing again, and Dolph turned into the roc again, and picked up the skeleton. He spread his wings.

“I suspect—” Marrow began.

Dolph waited. He bad learned to pay attention. His mother would have approved of that!

“—that we are ready to proceed,” Marrow concluded.

Good enough! Dolph jumped and pumped, and they were airborne. The wind helped him rise, though he did not make much forward progress. Soon he was above the trees. Then he circled, getting his bearings. Rocs had good eyesight. He forged into the wind.

“But it is possible—”

What now? Dor cocked his head and listened.

“—that the wind might shift, above.”

Good notion. He resumed his climbing. Sure enough, at a higher elevation the wind changed, and a cold current bore directly toward the Good Magician's castle. Now that he was airborne and satisfied to fly level, he did not need its lift; he could fly with it, and make better speed with less effort.

He flew, pleased with himself. His belly was full, and he had plenty of energy, thanks to the skeleton's timely advice. It wasn't so bad having an adult along! Dolph still stopped short of the notion that his mother might actually have been right, however; there were limits.

As evening approached, and the sun ducked down to hide behind the horizon so that it wouldn't be caught by the dark, Dolph glided down toward the Good Magician's castle. He couldn't land right in it because he was too big, but there was a nice field a short distance from it. He coasted to an almost perfect landing. They had saved a whole day!

But now it was dusk, and he was tired. Marrow's caution had been good; he was hungry again, and would have been horribly famished if he had not eaten before flying.

“I think—” Marrow began.

“We had better spend the night here,” Dolph concluded.

The skeleton nodded. “You may sleep; I have no need of it. Would you like shelter?”

Dolph looked around. The trees that had seemed so pretty by sunlight seemed sinister in shadow. Odd, unfriendly sounds were starting up. He had not thought about this. He did not relish the notion of sleeping out on bare ground, not even in animal form. He was accustomed to his warm, safe bed in Castle Roogna, with Handicraft, the monster under the bed, lurking guard. He was, after all, only nine years old. “Uh, yes,” he agreed pensively.

“Kick me in the tailbone.”

“What?”

“Give me a good kick. I require that initial impetus.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.” Dolph stood back, swung his foot, and delivered a wonderful kick to the skeleton's posterior.

Marrow flew apart. His bones exploded, flying in every direction. Then they came down—and landed in a pattern. When the last one fell into place, there was the shape of a small house, fashioned of bones. The skull was the front door, upside down.

“Pull me open,” the skull said. “Crawl in, and pull me closed. No one will bother you in here.”

Dolph could believe that. He paused for a call of nature (nature called in an almost inaudible but most persistent voice, until there was nothing to do but answer her), then hefted his knapsack and approached the house of bones. He got on his hands and knees and hooked one finger into the nose socket. The door swung open, supported by a neck bone that was now mounted on the top. Dolph wriggled in feet first, finding the interior snug but just big enough. He hauled his pack in after him and set it up as a headrest. He swung the skull down, and it clicked into place. The square eye sockets looked out, watching for any danger in the night.

It was dark in here, and comfortably warm. He felt quite secure. Marrow was really quite a fellow!

He had wanted to travel with Grundy Golem. It had always seemed to him that Grundy should be considered a Magician, because he could speak to any living thing. After all, King Dor couldn't do that; he could only speak to dead things. But Ivy had explained (not that he had asked her) that anybody could talk another language if he just took the trouble to learn it, while nobody could speak the language of the inanimate except King Dor, so Dor was a Magician and Grundy was not, dummy! That last word bad really griped him, but he had had no effective retort.

But though Grundy could be a fascinating character, he wasn't much for building houses. Not only had Marrow given some pretty fair advice, he was now protecting Dolph in a pretty neat way. Maybe Dolph really was better off with the skeleton, just as his mother had judged—no, there were bound to be catches!

In the morning Dolph got up, kicked the house, and it reformed into the walking skeleton. Marrow explained that in the early days he had had to be reassembled by hand, bone by bone, but that with practice he had mastered instant reassembly from any configuration. That was good, because Dolph would have had little patience with connecting a pile of bones individually. Then he changed into the ant and ate part of another crumb. Then he reverted to boy form and they walked to the castle.

They intersected the enchanted path and followed it right to the main entrance. Even in its desertion, the castle was imposing. It had a good-sized moat half-filled with slimy water, and a rickety drawbridge covered with cobwebs; and the stones of its walls were green with mildew. It looked perfectly haunted: a real delight.

“Perhaps—” Marrow began.

Dolph paused in mid stride toward the drawbridge. He still had the sore places from damaged feathers to remind him about heeding adult advice.

“—I should enter first, to be sure mere is nothing dangerous lurking inside,” the skeleton concluded.

“But wouldn't it be dangerous for you too?”

“What could be dangerous to me?”

Dolph was at a loss to answer that, so he didn't try. Anything that liked to bite legs would have trouble with Marrow's bones, and anything that liked to scare the living would have trouble scaring the dead.