Up In A Heaval (11 page)

She glanced at it, evidently absorbing it in a moment. “She has a daughter named Irene and a granddaughter named Jenny,” she remarked to King Dor.

“That's nice,” he said amiably.

Queen Irene glanced at Sammy. “And how is the real Jenny Elf doing?” she inquired. “I gather marriage becomes her, as does being a princess.”

Sammy nodded.

She looked at Sesame. “And it seems you have a curse to alleviate. Unfortunately we can't help you there. Curses generally have to be abated by those who make them.”

Sesame nodded. The queen had a somewhat daunting presence and did not seem to be inviting much of a dialogue.

“I could make the figures in the tapestry talk to you, if that would help,” King Dor suggested, “but I doubt that the answer to that curse is there. The tapestry merely shows what, not what might be.”

Sesame nodded; that was her conclusion also.

“Probably the Demon Xanth could null the curse, if he wanted to,” Dor continued. “But he seldom has much interest in mortal affairs.”

“Except his own affair with a mortal,” the throne remarked wickedly. Several tiles snickered.

Irene's gaze returned to Umlaut. “For whom is your next letter?”

He evidently hadn't thought about that. He wasn't much for looking ahead. “Uh, I'm trying to make them close to each other.” He fumbled with the packet, exhibiting his typical human awkwardness. It dropped to the floor and the letters spread out. One flopped over so that its name was down.

“Princess Ivy,” a floor tile said, reading it.

“Our daughter,” Queen Irene said. “How nice. But she is not at Castle Roogna at the moment. That's why we are baby-sitting the three little princesses.”

He seemed to be committed. “Uh, where is she?” he asked as he clumsily gathered up the letters.

“Why, she and Grey are visiting his parents at the Isle of Cats. That is, however, not the easiest site to reach.”

Sammy took off. If Umlaut was awkward, Sammy was impetuous. That was why it was surely best to have a sensible serpent with their party. “I guess we're going there anyway,” Umlaut said as he lurched after the cat. “Thank you, Your Majesty!” His foot skidded on the floor and he almost went down. Fortunately Sesame, anticipating this clumsiness, steadied him with her body.

“Welcome,” Queen Irene said. The faintest of smiles hovered near her lips, as if she found something amusing. She would have made a fine serpent.

“Good riddance, oaf!” another tile said.

Then they were on their way from the throne room and on out of the castle. For some reason Sesame felt out of sorts, though this mischief had not been her doing. She would try to see that the awkward human man made it through his mission without hurting himself. He was after all a pretty decent sort, for a human, and he had helped her escape the zombie dungeon.

Sammy ran ahead, as usual. Umlaut emulated a light serpent rider, and Sesame emulated a big black racer snake, and they managed to follow halfway close behind.

The cat was bearing westward. There was surely all manner of folk, monsters, terrain, and magic between them and the Isle of Cats, but Sammy was evidently selecting a route that avoided all that. That was one advantage of having him along. Of course the disadvantage was that he seemed to have no in-between state of motion; he was either a speeder or a speed bump.

Despite their velocity, it took time to reach the coast. Umlaut was getting hungry. “Maybe we should pause to eat!” he called.

Sammy heard him. He veered to one side or the other and led them into a grove of pie trees. There were many ripe pies and a great variety. Umlaut harvested a nice cherry pie, Sammy had catnip pie, and Sesame feasted on liver pies. She passed up the liverworst and liverokay in favor of the liverbest.

But before they finished eating and cleaning up, something loomed in the sky to the north. It was a gray patch of fog, floating just above the forest. It seemed to be drifting slowly east, then west, as if looking for something. In the process it was getting somewhat strung out. “What an ugly cloud,” Umlaut remarked.

Sammy looked at him as if he had done something stupid. “Well, it is,” he said defensively. “What about it?”

Sammy gave the signal for nineteen-questions mode, so Umlaut cooperated. Actually he had a better way: He emulated feline mode so that he could better relate and came to understand the cat much better. It was almost as if he were speaking Feline, which was a surprisingly comprehensive mode of communication. Soon he learned what he had done: He had insulted the worst of clouds, Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, who was usually out looking for parades or picnics to rain on. Their little group had a passing resemblance to a picnic. Now they were going to get it.

“From that little bit of mist?” Umlaut asked incredulously. “It couldn't even squeeze out ten drops of rain, let alone a storm.”

But now Sesame was gazing with alarm at the cloud. Umlaut looked again and saw that the fog had coalesced and grown to small cloud size. Its surface had darkened and resembled a bulbous face. He held his hand out at arm's length to measure it. “It's no bigger than a man's hand,” he said.

But both his companions seemed concerned. They wanted to get out of here.

“Oh, all right,” Umlaut agreed. “We won't have any trouble leaving it behind, and we have to get on to the Isle of Cats anyway.”

Sammy flinched. A spot dialogue got the reason: Fracto could hear him. Now the ornery cloud knew where they were going.

“Who cares?” he demanded. “It's just vapor.”

For some reason the others remained doubtful. They got moving again, but now Umlaut was aware of the sky. He watched to see when the stupid cloud fell behind them, but somehow it didn't. It kept growing, and its leading edge seemed actually to be gaining. That was probably just a fluke of air currents. How could a cloud decide where to go?

A chill gust of wind caught them, and the first sheet of rain came down, just missing them behind. Umlaut began to be concerned.

Could his friends be right? He had never heard of a conscious, self-directed cloud, but anything was possible, and it seemed that this one had a bad reputation.

They moved on at speed, but then a bolt of lightning struck the ground just ahead with a loud clap of thunder. The bolt bounced on the ground, burning hot, trying to set fire to the dry leaves. This was dangerous! “We'd better find cover!” Umlaut called.

Sammy veered again, and in one and a half moments led them to a snug cave in the side of a minor mountain. They got in it just before the next sheet of rain crashed down. It was clean and roomy and warm. “Thanks, Sammy,” Umlaut said. “This is perfect.”

But the cat seemed apologetic. Another interview determined why: This was the closest suitable cave, but it wasn't ideal. It was the home of a Ptero-bull who had managed to emigrate from Ida's moon Ptero but affected other folk adversely. If it returned before the storm ended, they would be uncomfortable.

“I'm not worried,” Umlaut said. “Certainly I'm not going out in that storm.” For now the thunder and lightning were continuous, and the rain so dense it looked like a waterfall.

Sesame sniffed the air. She wriggled nervously. “What's the matter?” Umlaut asked, irritated.

But before she could answer even a few of the nineteen questions, something loomed at the cave entrance. It was huge and ugly, and it snorted.

“What the bleep is that?” Umlaut demanded angrily. He was in a foul mood; the storm was bad enough, without bleeping complications.

A bovine head poked into the cave. Its fur was matted, its eyes were sickly red, and its steamy breath smelled like zombie gas.

Umlaut felt his clothes wrinkling. He felt terrible, and he knew why: The Ptero-bull was returning to his cave. Suddenly he caught the awful pun: Ptero-bull = terrible. The creature must have escaped from a comic strip. He wasn't sure whether the bull or the pun made him feel worse.

The bull's gnarly shoulders forged into the cave. Umlaut's clothing twisted into virtual knots, and he felt, well, terrible. He saw that Sesame and Sammy were no better off; the serpent was tied in a real knot, and the cat's fur was horribly unkempt and even tangled.

“Let's get out of here!” he cried furiously.

But where could they go? The Ptero-bull was still shoving into the cave, snorting putrid steam, and they absolutely could not approach it.

Then Sammy yowled and bounded erratically toward the back of the cave. “Wait for us!” Umlaut gritted, stumbling after. Sesame hissed and writhed like a sidewinder to go there too.

The cave narrowed, winding down to who knew where. Only the faintly glowing moss on the walls allowed Umlaut to see anything, though the cat and serpent seemed to have night vision. In bad temper, they struggled through it, banging against ugly stalactites and homely stalagmites. But as they progressed, their foul moods eased; they were getting away from the Ptero-bull, who couldn't fit into this narrow passage.

They finally came to a deep dark pool. There they paused. “Where do we go from here?” Umlaut demanded.

Sammy pointed at the pool with a paw, but he didn't try to enter the water. It wasn't that he was afraid to get wet; there was an ominous ripple there. Then a long toothy snout appeared.

“An allegation!” Umlaut exclaimed, recognizing the water creature. He had heard of such predators. “It will chew us up and spit us out in a trice.”

Sesame eyed the monster. Umlaut understood her thought: She was judging whether she could outchomp it. That might be possible, for she was a big serpent. But then he saw a second allegation, and a third. She couldn't handle all those at once.

Then a dim bulb flashed. “Find us a way,” he told Sammy.

The cat ran down along the side of the pool. The allegations paced him hungrily, only their eyes showing above the water. He came to a wider, higher cave section and looked up. There at the ceiling was a cluster of winged things. “But those are crazies,” Umlaut protested. “How can they help?”

Then he realized that they were of a related type: bats. Creatures crazy enough to live in deep caves.

Sammy went to a side section of the cave. There was a pile of rocks of all sizes. He nosed a small one.

“What does a stone have to do with getting us across the water?” But Sammy was insistent, so Umlaut picked up the rock indicated. It was rounded and smooth, an easy one to throw.

Another dim bulb flashed. Umlaut turned and hurled the rock at the bats. They dropped off and somersaulted athletically in the air above the lake. They were amazingly adept flyers, real aerial tumblers.

“They're aero-bats," Umlaut said, realizing.

Now that the bats had been started, they felt compelled to put on a show. They dived and looped, barely skirting the water, spinning and recovering, speeding and halting. It was quite impressive as they made fancy patterns in the air. Umlaut was fascinated by their versatility.

Something nudged his elbow. Reluctantly he looked away from the show. It was Sesame. She gestured with her nose, and Umlaut saw that Sammy Cat was quietly walking back the way they had come. He also saw that the allegations were watching the aero-bat show as raptly as he had been. Everyone loved a good show! But perhaps they also hoped that a few of the bats would fall into the water, where they could be snapped up for quick meals.

And this of course was the way to cross the pool: while the predators were distracted. He walked quietly back to where they had first come to it. Sammy was already swimming across, using the cat-paddle stroke. When he reached the far side, he disappeared.

For a moment Umlaut was afraid an allegation had come and pulled the cat under, but then he realized that the way out was below the surface of the water. Sesame was already swimming across, and she disappeared too. So he followed, stroking as quietly as he could, not at all at ease about this, and dived when he reached the place.

There was a hole in the bank not far below the surface. He saw Sesame's tail disappearing in it. He followed, making his way through a narrow passage, and then came up in a new cave. There was fresh air here, suggesting that there was access to the surface.

They followed Sammy upward and outward, and soon they reached the surface. And it was still raining; Fracto had not finished venting his fury. It was not safe to go out there amid the lightning; a hot bolt could land on one of them. What were they to do?

“Sammy?” Umlaut asked.

The cat considered, then followed the cave back to a branch and squeezed through that. Sesame followed, having no trouble, but Umlaut's shoulders did not want to fit. So he emulated a thinner man and managed to scrape by. He still had to crawl, getting his clothing scuffed and dirty, but he had no choice.

This passage emerged in what appeared to be a residential chamber. Two women sat gazing out into the rain, not aware of the arrival of the three.

Umlaut brushed himself off ineffectively and cleared his throat. Both women turned, saw them, and screamed.

“A dirty snake!” one cried.

“A dirty werecat!” the other cried.

“And a filthy spook!” the first concluded.

That bothered Umlaut. “Now wait half a moment,” he said.

“Eeeek!” the second woman cried, affrighted anew. “It talks!”

“Of course it talks,” Umlaut said hotly. “I mean, I talk. I'm a person, and these are my friends Sammy Cat and Sesame Serpent”

“It's an animal invasion,” the first woman said. “They want to catch us and gobble us.”

“That's what felines and reptiles do,” the second agreed.

Umlaut knew better, but this got to him. Probably some of the irritability remained from the Ptero-bull. He went into lecture mode, heedless of the consequences. “You have no right to judge others by mere appearances,” he said. “You don't know us. All you see is the dirt we got covered with crawling through the cave, trying to find help to get through the storm. You assume we're bad because we are dirty. If you got to know us you would find that Sammy is a fine feline who can find anything and brought us here because he thought you would be able to help us. Sesame is a superb serpent who can do emulations and means no harm to anyone. I am Umlaut, also an emulator, just trying to deliver a letter to the Isle of Cats. We got caught by a bad storm and driven into a cave, where a Ptero-bull chased us and allegations threatened us. All we want is to get on with our mission, and your prejudice doesn't help.”

The two women exchanged a glance that reeked of significance. They remained sitting, twisting around to see back into the chamber. “Do you mean it?” the first asked.

“Of course I mean it!” Umlaut said hotly. “I said it, didn't I?”

“About not judging by appearances?” the second woman asked.

“Yes! Nobody should be judged just by appearance.”

“Then we apologize,” the first woman said. “I am Cory.”

“And I am Tessa,” the second woman said.

“Thank you,” Umlaut said gruffly.

Then they both stood up.

Umlaut stifled a gape, Cory was so tall that her dark head barely cleared the ceiling. Tessa was so short that her blonde head barely made it halfway there.

Umlaut had been protesting judging by appearances. Had he encountered these two standing, he might have been guilty of that himself. He had almost made himself a hypocrite. “Uh, sorry for my tone. I guess you already know about that sort of thing.”

“We do,” Cory said. “But you were right: We shouldn't have done it to you.”

“And your cat was right,” Tessa said. “We can help you.”

Umlaut still felt supremely awkward. “I—we have had a rough time recently, and maybe I was taking it out on you. We'll get out of your way now,” Though he dreaded going into the storm.

“We will help you clean up,” Cory said.

“And we will lead you safely to the road to the isles,” Tessa said.

“Oh, you really don't need to do all that.” He had just told them off, and they were responding with favors. Why did he always manage to get stuck on the wrong foot?

“We think we do,” Cory said.

“The bathroom is that way,” Tessa said. “Take a bath.”

“But—”

“All three of you go,” Cory said. “You can all take baths.”

“And toss out your clothing,” Tessa said.

What did they have in mind? Umlaut didn't see any unawkward way out of this awkwardness, so he did what they urged. He went into their bathroom, and Sammy and Sesame joined him there.

They shut the door. There was a big bathtub already full of water that flowed from a crack in the stone behind it. Umlaut put a finger to the water and found it pleasantly warm. The notion of a good bath became tempting.

He looked at the others. “How do you feel about this?”

Sammy shrugged and started licking the dirt off his fur. That was his way of taking a bath. Sesame made a rippling shrug too and slid into the tub. The water rose but did not overflow; there was a drainage channel for it. She ducked her head under, then brought it up while the rest of her body followed in a downward loop. In this manner she slid through the tub, emerging clean. The odd thing was that the water remained clean; all the washed-off dirt went into the drain.