Pet Peeve (22 page)

“How fast can you get out of that armor, you luscious little lass?” the parody asked. Naturally the one time it didn't insult was when a compliment would do more damage.

“He's sure,” Gwenny said.

“Now I shall invoke the spell,” Amazonia said. She waved her hands. There was a flash, and suddenly the tree trunk expanded to double its former width. Rather, they had seemed to shrink by that amount.

“King Sword will now receive you,” Mace said.

A door opened in the trunk of the tree, and they walked inside. There was a bare wood chamber. The door closed behind them, and the chamber abruptly lifted. They were rising farther in the tree.

The ascent slowed. The door opened, and they stepped out into a bower crafted of foliage. There stood an elf man wearing an impressive sword. This was obviously King Sword of the Warrior Elves.

“Greetings, Chief Gwenny and consort,” the king said.

“And our greeting to you, King Sword,” Gwenny replied. “I had not realized that you knew me.”

“I know of you, Gwenny, and respect what you have done with Goblin Mountain. In time those goblins may even become civilized.”

“Never!” the peeve said.

“What is your business with us?”

Goody explained about the robots.

Sword nodded. “Of course we shall do what we can. But you must understand that we can be effective only near our Elf Elms, where our strength is greatest. There are several near Iron Mountain, and I will send word to those trees. You can complement our forces with others that can operate freely between trees.”

“Thank you, Sword,” Goody said, gratified. “That will surely help significantly.”

“Then it is done.” Sword glanced at Gwenny. “You are a winsome lass; are you sure you would not like to indulge our hospitality for a night?”

“Ordinarily it would be a pleasure. But we have two more species to contact today,” Gwenny said diplomatically.

When they returned to the lower trunk station, a number of the elf maidens had changed to flowing green dresses that enhanced their excellent figures. “If you care to dally, goblin man—” one said.

Goody borrowed Gwenny's phrasing. “Ordinarily I would be delighted. But we have a short deadline.” Indeed, had he found himself in this situation before meeting Gwenny, he would have been seriously tempted. There might be ways in which elven maidens were inferior to goblin maidens, but there was no evidence of that here.

They rode ankles back down to the ground. “Some other time, perhaps,” Amazonia said as they parted, giving her green skirt a flounce.

“Any time, bonny belle!” the bird said.

“I'm almost sorry to haul you away from that,” Gwenny murmured as they walked from the tree.

“First you would have to tell me that you have no further interest in me.”

“Haw haw haw!”

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

The demons reappeared. In half an instant they were on their way to the harpies.

That turned out to be easy: “We love to fight!” the harpy leader screeched. “Now that we're not fighting goblins—” She looked at Goody as if truly regretting that. “We need something else. The robots sound ideal. We'll bomb them to oblivion.”

“They may have developed flying machines,” Goody warned her. “That could make the air dangerous.”

“Then we'll take losses. We're used to that. What counts is the fight.”

Almost before they knew it, they were on their way to the last of the contacts: the ogres. Goody was wary of this, because ogres and goblins did not necessarily get along, but Gwenny happened to have an ogre contact.

“My friend Okra Ogress,” she explained. “She was an outcast because she wasn't ugly enough.”

“That's the sort of thing I can understand.”

“I thought you would.” She kissed him. “Her husband is Smithereen, the Ogre Overlord. We call him Over Ogre, because he's too stupid to remember the whole title.”

Okra lived in a huge cave near Lake OgreChobee. As they walked beside the huge shallow lake a group of burning letter O's sailed up, startled. “Watch it, Flaming O!” the parody squawked as one passed close enough to almost singe a feather.

“Jenny Elf calls them flamingos,” Gwenny said. “She heard the term from the Mundane she was being a Companion for. Isn't that funny?”

“Mundanes don't know anything,” Goody agreed.

They came to the cave. Goody picked up a rock and pounded it against the wall.

Two shaggy young ogres appeared, an ugly male and an uglier female. Each was twice human height, which was four times goblin height. Goody and Gwenny were barely knee-high on them. “Who you?” the male demanded truculently.

“Who do you think, meathead?” the parody said.

Pleased by the compliment, the ogre smiled. The effect was horrendous. “Me think goblin stink.”

“You stink worse, horse hide!”

Both ogre youths smiled. This was going very well.

“Let's exchange introductions,” Gwenny said. “Me Gwenny Goblin.”

“Me Og Ogret,” the boy said.

“Me Goody Goblin.”

“Me Not-Og Ogret,” the girl said.

“You will soon be able to curdle milk with just a smile,” Gwenny said.

The girl blushed with pleasure. Fleas leaped from her skin as the heat became unbearable.

“I came to see your mother Okra Ogress,” Gwenny said.

Not-Og turned her head. “Maaawww!” she bellowed.

In barely a moment an ogress appeared. She was not a whole lot larger than Hannah Barbarian, and hardly ugly enough to impress an ogre. How had she managed to marry an ogre overlord?

“She kissed him,” Gwenny murmured.

Oh. Of course.

“Gwenny!” the ogress exclaimed. “I haven't seen you in ages!”

She wasn't talking like an ogre. What was going on?

“She's not stupid enough,” Gwenny murmured, again answering his thought. Then, to Okra: “We came to see your husband on important business.”

Okra shook her head. “He'll never understand if you talk like that. Maybe you should tell me, and I'll translate for him.”

“That makes sense.”

Okra turned to the ogrets. “Go fetch your father.”

The two lumbered off, jostling each other. “Aren't they darling?” Okra asked. “There's not a trace of intelligence or prettiness in either. Smithereen is so pleased.”

Just as Go-Go was pleased when their children had no trace of politeness. Goody understood.

“Wonderful,” Gwenny said. “They are doing you proud.”

“Come in,” Okra said. “You can stand on the table.”

They entered the cave. In the center chamber was a huge table crudely chiseled out of a giant slab of granite. “Smithereen chewed it into shape with his front teeth,” Okra said as she lifted them up to its surface. “It took him a whole hour.”

The cave shook as heavy footsteps approached. The ogre male appeared, almost as wide as he was tall, and muscular in proportion. “You give beefcake a bad name,” the peeve said.

“The cake? Me take.”

Okra hastily brought a huge cake. The ogre stuffed it into his mouth.

“You're so stupid, it's a wonder you remember to breathe!”

“It's the bird,” Goody said. “It talks.”

The Over Ogre focused on the parody. “Me heard. Like bird.”

“Maybe we should let the children play with the bird,” Okra said. “We'll never get anything done if it keeps flattering him.”

Goody agreed. He carried the bird to the ogrets. Meanwhile Gwenny walked out to stand directly before Smithereen.

“Me see goblin she,” he said, surprised.

“It's Gwenny Goblin, Chiefess of Goblin Mountain,” Okra said. “Jenny Elf's friend. Remember?”

He struggled to remember, throwing off more fleas than his daughter had as his head heated with the effort.

“Lift me up to your ugly face,” Gwenny told him.

The ogre put out a monstrous ham hand. Gwenny sat on it, and he lifted her up for a closer inspection. She leaned forward and kissed him on the horny nose.

Stunned, he crashed back into the stone chair Okra had providently placed behind him. “Now me remember, little goblin her,” he said, dazed.

“I thought you might,” Gwenny said, climbing off his hand as it sank back to the table.

Goody knew how that was, too.

Then Gwenny explained about the robots and the need for all the creatures of Xanth to help beat them back. It was a well-turned paragraph.

“Ogres bash, robots crash,” Okra translated.

Smithereen's smile was so broad that the roaches in the corners fainted and fell to the floor. “Grate fate!”

“That's 'great fate,'” Okra told them. “He can't spell, of course. It means the ogres will join the effort.”

“Thank you!” Goody said. “Tell them to be at the Iron Mountain tomorrow if they can make it. And not to fight with all the other species that will be there.”

“I will,” Okra agreed.

The parody fluttered to rejoin Goody. “Would you like to stay with the ogrets?” he asked it.

“Too stupid to be insulted,” the peeve said peevishly.

Goody sighed. Another prospect hadn't worked out.

Back at the naga landing strip they consulted. “All those troops are going to be converging on Iron Mountain,” Hannah said. “Some are natural enemies. It's going to be chaos unless there's someone to organize them.”

“You're right,” Gwenny agreed. “But who? None of them are going to take directives from a natural enemy.”

“Ha ha ha! Let the gobs fight the ogs!”

They ignored the parody, which annoyed it.

“I can think of someone,” Cynthia Centaur said. “Human King Emeritus Magician Trent. He's a manly man with a lot of governing experience and a potent talent. I think he is universally respected by the major species.”

“You've still got half a crush on him,” Che chided her.

“Ooo, kisses and smacks! Do you do it frontwise or rearwise?”

She nodded, still managing to ignore the peeve. “I suppose I do. But I've got more than half a crush on you, and you return it.”

Che nodded. “I think your idea is viable. He could command the human contingent, and direct the others through their leaders. They would not be giving up their independence to the humans, merely coordinating. But he'd need a demon to move him around rapidly, so he could be aware of the big picture.”

“Dad,” Vore said. “Demon Professor Grossclout. He's the one who is organizing the demons, and who assigned us to transport you two goblins. Now it's his turn.”

“Oh, let me tell him!” Metria said eagerly.

Vore looked at her. “You'd flash your polka-dot panties with the empty dots at him and do your best to annoy him.”

“Yes! Let me do it.” She flicked her skirt, showing a dot. Goody barely managed to avert his eyes in time.

“I will do it.” Vore vanished.

Metria glanced at the parody. “Come here a moment, bird.” It obligingly fluttered across to perch on her shoulder. “Bleepity bleep ka-bleep!” her voice swore, browning the nearby foliage. The bird returned to Goody, its job done.

“My job is to guard Goody,” Hannah said. “But I can't do that if you demons are transporting him and Gwenny to places I can't go.”

“You should go too,” Gwenny agreed. “He'll be no good to me if he gets skewered by a robot. Is there a demon we can trust to transport you?”

“Dara,” Metria said, perking up. “Magician Humfrey's first wife. She's off duty now, so is available. She has a bit of a soul, so can be trusted. And she won't feel you up the way I do Goody.”

“You what?” Gwenny asked sharply.

“Caress, fondle, cuddle, massage, goose—”

“You do not!” Goody protested.

“Pet?” the parody asked.

“Whatever,” Metria agreed, not very crossly. “I'll go fetch her. If I have to be stuck with this chore, she does too.” She popped out.

Gwenny faced Goody. “And Vore has not been handling me, either. They're both married, you know.”

“Married? I did suspect,” Nada said with half a smile.

The children and bird laughed. “Dad doesn't even get it on with Metria,” Monica said. “Mom's such a spoilsport.”

“Fortunately those two demons don't really like each other,” Nada agreed.

It occurred to Goody that the half-demon children liked to flirt with violations of the Adult Conspiracy. They probably knew more about it than they let on. Their parents seemed remarkably tolerant. They probably had to be.

There were two pops, and Metria and another demoness appeared. The second was dusky in a sexy sort of way. “Here's Dara,” Metria said. “Sometimes called Dana because Humfrey can't keep her name straight. And I didn't even have to show her my polka-dot panties.”

“Those were my panties,” Dara said severely. “You stole them two centuries ago. If I'd had them when Humfrey rescued his wives from Hell, I wouldn't have had to settle for one month in six.”

“And this is Hannah Barbarian,” Metria continued. “You will transport her where I take Goody.”

“Hello, Hannah. If you guard Goody, who guards you?”

“I don't need a guard!”

“But you do need a man, don't you.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“Maybe.”

Hannah nodded. “We'll get along.”

Vore returned. “Dad's on board.”

“Because he knows where the action is,” Nada said.

“He'll fetch King Trent, and meet us tomorrow at Iron Mountain.”

“But we told the other species to be there two days from now,” Goody said.

“That's why we need to be there the day before,” Hannah said. “So we can direct them to their quadrants. We'll need to survey the region beforehand.”

“You're pretty good at this,” Vore said.

“Well, I'm a barbarian. We like to fight.”

“Maybe we should go there now and make camp,” Goody said. “So we won't have to do it tomorrow.”

“It works for me,” Vore said. “We'll drop you off now.”

Metria took Goody, Vore took Gwenny, and Dara took Hannah.

There was a wrench, and they stood before a mountain made of iron. It was impressive, towering above them, with iron steps cut into its side leading upward, and an iron guardrail. An almost invisible river gushed from a coiled spring and cascaded down the side.

“What a pile!” the parody exclaimed.

“South is Lake Wails,” Dara Demoness said. “East is the Kiss Mee River, newly restored to friendly curves. Nearby is the Singing Tower. Immediately west is Mountain Lake. It's an interesting location.”

“You're familiar with it?” Gwenny asked.

“I pop by every so often. Once I found an ogre and a number of damsels stuck atop Iron Mountain without proper water or a bed, and was able to help them. I try to do a good deed every day, if I can.”

That explained something about Dara. She was definitely nice for a demoness.

Hannah got busy preparing a lean-to, with the parody staying to criticize her efforts. Goody and Gwenny set off in search of pillow and pie plants. They found a few, but that suggested a problem. “What's the army going to eat?” Goody asked.

“I think we'll have to import supplies.”

“From where?”

“I think we have a problem.”

They harvested what they could, and started back. “Oh, I meant to inquire, now that we're alone,” Gwenny said, setting down her bundle. She stepped close to Goody. “Did Metria to this to you?” She squeezed him in a private place.

He started to protest, then realized that she was teasing him. The absence of the peeve was a rare chance for private interaction. So he squeezed her in a naughty place. “Did Vore do this to you?”

She considered. “Maybe.” She kissed him. “Did the demoness do this to you?”

“I'm not sure. Try it again.”

She tried it again. “No, I don't think so. Did Vore do this to you?” He stroked her in an intriguing place.

She pondered, not withdrawing at all. “Probably not. Did Metria—”

Goody leaped into the air. “Hoo!”

“I didn't do that to you either,” Metria said, coming into sight after doing it invisibly. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing you wouldn't understand,” Gwenny said with resignation.

They picked up their bundles and returned to the developing camp. “We found some pies and pillows,” Goody said. “But the full army will need a hundred times what's here.”

“Food!” Hannah said. “Why didn't I think of that?”

“Because you're an uncivilized dunce.”

“Thank you so much, peeve. That explains everything.” She looked around. “What will they eat? We don't want them to start in on each other before the robots even get here.”

D. Vore appeared. “I'll check with Dad.” He vanished.

“I'll check with Humfrey,” Dara said, fading out.

“I'll check on the children,” Metria said. “Nada may be getting tired of minding them both on her own.”

They were alone. They ate the pies and washed in Mountain Lake. This was in the shape of a mountain, of course, with the water angling up to the peak. It seemed to be a big wave that got caught on land, so stayed put. The land beneath it was fairly level, but the rising surface soon made it too deep to wade in.

“This is weird, swimming uphill,” Hannah said, doing so. Then she heaved herself out of the water, spread herself flat, and slid down the slope to the shore.

They settled down for the night, lying side by side on their bed of leaves, with Hannah on the hard ground as usual. “Does it seem cool to you?” Gwenny asked.

“No, it's warm.”

“Dumbbell!”

“Are you sure?” She squiggled up next to him.

Oh. “Maybe it is cool,” he agreed.

“That's good.”

She rolled into him. Then he discovered that she wasn't wearing anything. “But I thought—you haven't—”

“I haven't decided whether to marry you,” she said. “I'm still gathering evidence. Do you have any?”

“I think you do.”

“With Go-Go, we waited until we were married to—”

“I am nothing like Go-Go. Hadn't you noticed?”

He hadn't thought about it. She was right: she and Go-Go were both female goblins. Both were comely. There the resemblance ended. Go-Go had been content to be a homebody; Gwenny was a lady chief. Go-Go was inclined to go along with whatever was usual; Gwenny was an assertive leader. Go-Go had liked to dance in her special way; Gwenny couldn't dance. Go-Go had been cursed; Gwenny seemed blessed. They were different in practically every way he could think of.

Except one. He loved them both.

“Oh, Gwenny,” he said. “Whatever you want—I want too.”

“I haven't decided,” she reminded him.

“Of course.”

“This is merely an interaction.”

“Yes.”

It turned out to be some interaction. Fortunately the parody had gone to sleep, or had the wit to keep its beak shut. The same, perhaps, went for Hannah Barbarian.

The first to arrive next day were the centaurs: a hundred archers, male and female, led by Chevalier himself, flanked by Cheery.

“The dumbbell and the knockers,” the parody said loudly.

The filly frowned. “You can't fool me again, parody. I know it's you, and will not tolerate it.”

“Yeah, boobsy twins? You and who else?”

Her bow appeared in her hands, an arrow nocked. She loosed it without seeming to aim. It flew between Goody's shoulder and the bird's feet, the fletching scraping the peeve's tail. “Squawk!” it protested. “You almost hit me!”

“Next time I'll aim more carefully. Now fetch me back my arrow.”

“What?!”

The second arrow oriented. “Dart, shaft, quarrel, bolt, barb—”

The peeve was on its way. Soon it returned with the spent arrow held in its beak. Evidently the arrow had been lightened to make this possible. Cheery's bow had disappeared. She lifted one hand. The bird dropped the arrow into it.

Chevalier's mouth barely thought about twitching. He had remained studiously indifferent, but the point had been made. The filly's first arrow had gone exactly where she intended, making its point. The centaurs would not be subject to more harassment by the bird.

“You are the first,” Goody said. “I suppose you can pick the area you wish to defend. We'll need to circle the mountain so the robots can't reach it from any direction.”

“We'll require a territory with good foraging for food and supplies,” Chevalier said.

“This area is lean,” Goody said. “We'll have to bring in supplies.”

“Past the robots?”

“I hope Magician Trent will have an answer for that. He has agreed to supervise the operation.”

“Excellent. We know of him from way back. But we thought he had retired as the human monarch.”

“He did. That's why he is available.”

There was a muffled pop, and a puff of smoke formed and dissipated. “Did I hear my name?” Trent inquired.

“Spoken with respect,” Chevalier said. “I am Chevalier Centaur, head stallion of Centaur Isle.”

“We know of you, too,” Trent said. “We're glad to have your contingent.” The two shook hands. “Now what is your question?”

“We and the other contingents will need supplies, especially food. We can ring the mountain, but the robots may in turn ring us. We will not be as effective if hungry.”

“I believe we can handle that,” Trent said. “I discussed it with the Professor.”

There was another puff of smoke, and a grim older demon appeared. He had to have been there, invisible, because Trent could not have traveled in such manner by himself. “I heard my name,” Demon Professor Grossclout said. “Food will be provided.”

Chevalier nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Bogey at two o'clock!”

A flight of ungainly birds was arriving. These manifested as harpies as they came closer. “Very good,” Trent said.

The lead harpy spied them and flapped in. “Fowlmouth Harpy here,” she screeched. “Where can we land?”

“Good to see you, Fowlmouth,” Trent said. “Settle adjacent to the centaurs. We have special use for you.”

The harpy leader eyed the centaurs. “We don't do it with their breed. Too big.”

The Magician did not smile at her crude humor. “As I remember, the harpies have control of the lunch box plantation.”

“That's right,” she screeched. “We could feed an army.”

“That's exactly what is required. We have an army to feed. Can you ferry in enough boxes?”

Fowlmouth looked doubtful. “We have enough, but can't carry more than two at a time. How many troops do you have?”

“Thousands, we hope.”

“Thousands! It would take us a month!”

“Suppose they are made light, so you could carry twenty at a time, in bags?”

“That would help. But how would that be done?”

“We have two flying centaurs you can guide to the plantation.”

“We don't associate with that kind,” Chevalier said grimly.

“Nor do you need to,” Trent said smoothly. “They will not be on the field of battle.”

“Making things light,” Fowlmouth screeched. “It will do. But we hear there will be flying machines. We can't fight and carry at the same time.”

“The centaurs will shoot those machines out of the air as they approach you,” Trent said, “providing a safe corridor.”

“That we can do,” Chevalier agreed.

Goody saw that it was working out. Magician Trent was already taking charge and addressing the problems. Harpies were leading the two flying centaurs away.

Now there was a series of pops as demons materialized. “Here to me, demons,” the Professor called. “Mush! Mush!”