Swell Foop (13 page)

"Well, yes, I want, if you should be interested."

Cynthia realized that the composite man and the undead mermaid had much in common. Both were outcasts of their kind. But she didn't have time for this. "Zilche, we have a mission to accomplish. We have to go."

The zombie nodded reluctantly. "Maabee ey come bakz?"

"By all means come back!" Jackson agreed eagerly. "When your mission is done."

"All right!" Cynthia said. She reached down into the water, set the zombie into the net, flicked them both, spread her wings, and took off. Jackson waved, and Zilche waved back. "Bakz!" she promised. To that Cynthia could agree; she would be glad to bring the zombie back here, once she had the Ring of Water.

Then, as an afterthought as she spiraled back up the air pipe: "I apologize for misunderstanding you, before."

"Pulsh-plush-playsh," Zilche said, trying to clarify her expression. Evidently she had difficulty with the P L combination. "Zhakzon nize."

"Yes, Jackson is nice. It never occurred to me that he could be lonely for his kind."

"Zlonly," the zombie agreed with feeling.

They passed through the illusion of Pipe's Peek and climbed higher into the sky. Then she oriented on Lake Ogre Chobee, where the curse fiend's castle was. She dreaded the coming encounter, but it seemed it was necessary. The curse fiends were not necessarily friendly to outsiders.

In due course she spied the lake. The ogres were no longer there, having long-since migrated to the Ogre-fen-Ogre Fen, but the name lingered. Folk remembered ogres for a long time, unsurprisingly.

The turrets of the curse fiend's Gateway Castle came into sight. Cynthia nerved herself and glided down to a landing on a high plaza.

There was an attractive garden there, with assorted musical plants. Blue bells rang, golden horns tootled, tubers oompa'd, and a plant with a root shaped like a red heart kept the beat. It was of course a heart beet.

A dour man appeared. The curse fiends were always alert to intrusions. "What is your business, centaur?" he demanded gruffly.

"I am on a mission for the good of Xanth. I must locate the Ring of Water."

"We know nothing of this. Kindly depart."

This was exactly the welcome she had anticipated. "I must not depart without that Ring. I shall need to search for it."

"You are refusing to depart our premises?" the man asked, beginning to swell up as if about to deliver a curse.

But Cynthia had not been completely asleep in centaur school. She knew how to finesse this. "You are against the good of Xanth?"

It did set him back a quarter step. "That depends on definition."

"The Demon Earth has been abducted, and in his absence the magic of gravity will fade. Xanth needs some gravity. Without it Gateway Castle would lose all the water surrounding it and become a structure on a muddy plain. Your definition favors this?"

He became defensive. "How do we know you speak the truth?"

"Have you ever known a centaur to speak other than the truth?" Of course she was not a natural centaur, but he wouldn't know that.

"Your information could be inaccurate."

She merely stared at him.

After a moderately generous moment, he gave way. "Where is this Ring?"

"I don't know. I said I will have to search for it."

"We cannot let you do that unsupervised."

Cynthia sifted through her memory. Che's mother had once traveled to the Vale of the Vole with a curse fiend woman whose every third curse turned out to be a blessing, making her unpopular with her kind. Was it possible she was still here? She had been old when Chex knew her, a generation ago. What was her name? "Dame Latia!"

"You know the old crone?"

This did not sound promising, but it remained her best chance. "Indirectly. Is she available?"

"Naturally not."

What did that mean? Was the woman so old and frail she could not do anything? Cynthia realized that she would have to finesse again. "Suppose you query her?" That was technically a question, rather than a demand.

He countered similarly. "Why should I bother the crone?"

"Suppose you inform her that a winged centaur would like to see her?"

"Suppose I don't?"

"I wonder what her reaction would be, when she learns you didn't?"

He pondered that for an instant short of a moment. "Wait here." He retreated through a doorway.

"Nize," Zilche remarked.

"Nice? But I know nothing about Dame Latia. She's the only curse fiend I have heard of. It was just a wild chance that she was still alive, let alone available."

"Zhe Mazizdath."

"She's what?"

"Mazizdath."

Cynthia still couldn't get it. "Well, I hope that's not mischief."

The door opened. "The crone will see you," the curse fiend said distastefully.

"Excellent," Cynthia said, as if this had been a certainty all along.

The door looked too small for Cynthia to pass, but it expanded as she approached, as did the stairway beyond it. It was evident that the curse fiends were pretty good craftsmen.

They were ushered into a very plush chamber. "Here are the intruders, Crone," the man said.

"Thank you, Functionary," a cracked old voice replied.

It was indeed a very old woman. She sat on a plush pillow on an extremely ornate chair. She was the ugliest human person Cynthia had seen anywhere.

Cynthia stepped forward. "Dame Latia?"

"The Crone," the woman agreed. "Ah, you are not Chex."

"I apologize if I misled you. I am Cynthia, her foal's fiancee."

"My, time has certainly passed! Tell me of her life events since I knew her."

"She matured and married Cheiron. Their first foal was Che, who became the tutor to the Simurgh's chick Sim. They have other foals, and are quite satisfied with life."

"I am so glad to hear it. Chex was a good person, though no older than you are now." She squinted at Cynthia. "You look to be about sixteen."

"Yes, Dame." And the old woman looked to be over a hundred. "Actually, she was younger when she visited the Kiss Mee River. She was fully mature by age ten, because of her winged monster sire."

The woman peered at her. "There is reason you do not call me Crone?"

Cynthia was on the verge of being slightly flustered. "I do not wish to be offensive."

"You know nothing of me since I shared adventures with Chex and her friends Esk Ogre and Volney Vole?"

"That is true, Dame. I—I needed to invoke a name to gain admittance to Castle Gateway, and yours was the only one I knew. Because Chex mentioned you as a good person. I apologize for my ignorance."

"And your companion, the zombie mermaid?"

"Mazizdath," Zilche said.

"I am unable to fathom that word," Cynthia said, embarrassed.

Latia addressed the zombie again. "So you know, but she does not?"

"Yez."

"How delightful! It is such a pleasure to encounter innocence."

"Innocence?" Cynthia asked, not totally pleased.

"I will explain. Thanks in significant part to Chex and her friends of the time, we had a successful mission, and I returned to Gateway Castle with elevated status despite my infirmity of talent."

"Infirmity?" Cynthia asked, still muddled. Actually, she knew what Latia meant, but remained distracted by this mysterious reference to innocence. What had she failed to comprehend?

"We curse friends all have the same talent: cursing. This manifests in different ways, but generally means mischief for those we curse. Unfortunately my cursing is flawed; one curse in three turns out to be a blessing. My associates wanted to be rid of me, for my visage even then was so ugly as to curdle water. But after my success, that was not possible, and in due course seniority enabled me to assume the role of Magistrate."

"Mazizdath," Zilche agreed.

"Magistrate," Cynthia echoed, finally seeing it. "But isn't that a significant office in your society?"

"Yes. Equivalent to Queen in the human society."

"Oh!" Cynthia cried, appalled as she realized the nature of her ignorance. "And I demanded to see you! I didn't know!"

"Yes, so we have ascertained. You are the first in some time to come to me asking a favor without knowing my office. I like that."

"But the guard called you a—a—"

"Crone. Not a—
the
."

"I—I don't—"

"Ze Crone rulz," Zilche exclaimed.

"The Crone rules," Latia agreed. "It is no longer a term of disrespect, but my title. There is only one Crone in the Gateway Castle at present."

"I had no idea! I would never have—"

"I know, dear. I liked Chex, and I like you; you will surely do right by her foal. Now let's see to your mission. You seek the Ring of Water."

"Yes, Dame—I mean Crone."

"I had no idea it was here, but zombies lack the wit to prevaricate. We surely do have it. We shall undertake a search for it."

"Thank you, Crone." Cynthia felt weak in all four knees. This had seemed so doubtful, and grown worse, yet suddenly had turned out so well.

Latia picked up a little bell and rang it. Immediately a uniformed man appeared. "Yes, Crone."

"Institute a thorough search of the premises. You are looking for the Ring of Water. This is a band of exceeding power, I suspect not made of water." Latia allowed a smile to crack the lower portion of her face. She had made a funny. "We do not know its precise appearance, other than the form of a ring. So bring all rings you find here for inspection."

"Yes, Crone." He disappeared.

"Now while they search, would you like to see a play? We are always in need of pre-tour audience reaction by persons who have no familiarity with the productions."

Cynthia realized that it would not be courteous to decline, though she was not at all sure she wanted to waste time in such manner. "If you wish, Crone."

"This way." Latia got off her cushion, which Cynthia now realized was padding on a throne, and led the way out of the chamber. Obviously the woman was not much for ceremony, and she was quite spry for her age.

They went down another flight of stairs. There was a window, and Cynthia saw that beyond it was water, with fish swimming by. This was below the surface of the lake!

"You must admire this," Latia said, indicating a massive glass wall.

They peered out. There was a monstrous whirlpool, swirling down to unknown depths. "This is what keeps Lake Ogre Chobee shallow," Latia explained. "Its extra water pours into the depths, concluding at the Pool of the Brain Coral."

"Oh, this is the other end of the underground river!" Cynthia exclaimed. "I had not realized."

"Few do. But we do regard ourselves as guarding the gateway to the underworld."

They followed her to a larger chamber. There were several chairs, and a fair-sized tank of water. "For your friend," Latia said, indicating it.

Cynthia set Zilche in the tank, and the mermaid swished her tail gratefully.

The stage curtains parted to reveal a group of actors holding various objects. One stepped forward. "The name of this play is
Charades.
It is interactive. We shall present each concept for ten seconds, and if any member of the audience fathoms it, the audience scores a point. After that time, the answer will be given, and the audience will lose a point. At the end of the play, the score will determine whether the players or the audience won."

"I am not familiar with this play, so I will be a part of the audience," Latia said. "Thus we are three."

The first player stepped forward. She wore nothing but a tight body stocking. It occurred to Cynthia that any males would have found that interesting, for the actress was of a shapely disposition. She lifted a suit from a hanger, and put on trousers over her bare-seeming legs. Suddenly water splashed out; the trousers must have been filled with it. Then she put on a jacket, and bubbly water poured out from around her arms. "I am becoming quite clean," she said, "as this apparel washes me. What is it?"

A suit that washed its wearer? Cynthia drew a blank.

"Bazing zuit!" Zilche said.

"A bathing suit," the actress agreed. The number 1 appeared on a plaque marked AUDIENCE.

A man stepped forward. He carried a cudgel that was shaped roughly like a volume, with visible pages. "I will pulverize ignorance!" he declaimed, swinging the tome around. "What do I have here?"

"Why, I believe that is a book club," Latia said, and the audience number went to 2.

A third actor brought out a large bowl. In it was a ball that rolled around and around of its own accord. Cynthia tried to figure it out, but had no success, and neither did the others. "A bowling ball," the actor said. The 2 became a 1. They had lost a pun.

"I don't think that quite works," Latia said. "It is a ball in a bowl, but not bowling it over."

"I agree," Cynthia said.

Another actor stepped forward. She had a bell, but when she rang it, instead of ringing it went "Mooo!"

"A cow bell!" Cynthia said, finally getting one.

The next actor was in the shape of a huge foot. It hopped up to another actor who was evidently feeling ill. "Take two pills and call me in the morning," the foot said.

"Fooz docthor!" Zilche said.

"A foot doctor," the actor agreed, and the score went to 3.

Stage hands laid down a blue sheet with waves painted on it. Then an actor dived on it, as if thinking he would swim. Instead he bounced off the surface. "What is this?" he asked, seemingly bewildered.

Cynthia had had enough. "Please, I must search for the Ring," she murmured.

"Hardz wazer!" Zilche said.

"Hard water," Latia agreed. "I must say, you are sharp at charades, Zilche."

"Zank zhu."

"This mission is important," Cynthia said, moving toward the door.

Meanwhile, onstage, an actress donned a light coat. Then she started doing nasty little things to other actors.

"It must be something about the coat," Latia said, mystified.

"Meenz Zpiritedz," Zilche agreed, also struggling.

"It's a petticoat," Cynthia called back as she left the room. "It makes its wearer think petty thoughts and do petty things." Then she trotted off, her absence surely not even noticed. She was glad to get away from those awful puns. Maybe it took a mind pickled by great age or zombyism to sit still for all that.