Up In A Heaval (12 page)

So Umlaut stripped his filthy clothing—he was the dirtiest of the three—and tossed it through the cracked-open door. Then he got into the tub. It was divine; the water had a soothing as well as a cleansing quality, as though there were a trace of healing elixir in it. Maybe there was; it was never possible to be certain where mountain water came from. Soon he felt much better. He ducked his head and rubbed between his toes, cleansing the crevices.

He got out, quite clean. Sesame was holding a towel in her mouth. He took it and dried himself off. When he was through, she had another item: a robe. Where had she gotten them? He decided not to ask. He donned the robe, which fit nicely.

Umlaut opened the door, and they stepped and slithered out to rejoin the women. And paused, surprised.

The main cave had changed. Now it was a softly lighted chamber with a table in the center, laden with all manner of foods and drinks.

The two women had changed too and were elegantly garbed, with their hair done in nice dark and light coifs. Both were seated, so that the disparity in their heights was less apparent.

“It will take a while for your clothing to dry,” Cory said.

“So we thought you might like to eat while you waited,” Tessa said.

Umlaut wasn't sure about this. “But we were just on our way to the Isle of Cats. We wouldn't have intruded on you if we hadn't run afoul of Fracto.”

Cory glanced at the mouth of the cave. “Fracto hasn't yet given up.” Indeed, rain continued to drench the forest.

“You must really have irritated him,” Tessa said.

Umlaut smiled sheepishly. “I was stupid. I get that way sometimes. I didn't realize he could hear me.”

Cory smiled understandingly. “So many things can see and hear, though we don't realize it. It is best to be careful and courteous throughout.”

“Now come join us,” Tessa said. “We seldom have serious company.”

Umlaut realized with a faint shock that they were lonely. They were too tall and too short to associate freely with ordinary folk without awkwardness. They had found each other, but that wasn't enough. They had gone to a lot of trouble to make a nice meal with nice company. And what was his hurry? He had no schedule for delivering the letters. In fact, the answer to the problem of the Red Spot might be found in between letters, at a place like this, if he gave it a fair chance. He glanced quickly at Sammy and Sesame and saw that they were in no hurry to brave the storm either.

“Thank you,” he said. “We'll be glad to accept your kind hospitality.”

There was a chair for Umlaut to sit on, a high chair for Sammy to perch on, and a cleared region for Sesame to coil on. They took their places and shared the meal. And it was a great meal, with pies and breads and pastries, juices and sodas and boot rear, fruits and vegetables and smashed potatoes, puddings and cakes and eye scream. There was what seemed to be a baked rat in gravy for Sesame, and a pickled mouse for Sammy. They evidently loved it, and Umlaut loved the human food. He had never tasted better. Soon they were all pretty well stuffed.

“Where did you get such wonderful foods?” Umlaut inquired. “Is it your magic talent?”

They laughed. “Indirectly,” Cory said. “We found a cornucopia. It will produce anything we want. But we hardly ever get to exploit it fully. It was fun this time.”

“Do you mean a horn of plenty?” Umlaut asked. “I should think that would be very rare and not just around for the taking.”

“Not in this realm,” Tessa agreed. “But in the next realm they are common, so we took one.”

“The next realm?” There was something about this that bothered him.

“That's what we call it,” Cory said. “We don't know exactly what it is, just that our shared talent is to reach partway into it. That can be quite handy.”

“You can fetch things from it?” Umlaut asked, trying to understand what seemed to be a somewhat obscure concept.

“And put things into it,” Tessa agreed. “Or just pass through it, as you will see. That can be most convenient.”

Umlaut looked at Sammy, but the cat was curled on his high stool, catnapping. He looked at Sesame, but her snout was resting on the edge of the table, her eyes closed; she seemed to be sleeping too. He started to be alarmed but was too sleepy himself to do anything about it. He slumped against the table.

A nasty thought occurred to him: Had he been judging by appearances, assuming that the two women were what they seemed to be? Was that a mistake? Could they be something else? But before that thought could course all the way through his mind and erupt into some kind of action, he fell asleep. His only faint remaining consciousness was of their hands on him, dragging him somewhere.

He woke to find himself lying on a bed. Sammy lay on one side of him, and Sesame was coiled on the floor beyond. He still wore the robe. What had happened?

He sat up. He felt a bit logy but otherwise okay. Was that deceptive?

Sammy stirred. He seemed to be all right too. Then Sesame lifted her head. She was in good order as well. So what was going on?

He got off the bed and went to the door. It opened readily; it wasn't locked. He looked out. There were the two women, working in the main chamber. Cory was cleaning up the room while Tessa was washing dishes. The table and chairs were gone. They must have done a lot of work.

Cory saw him. “Oh, you're up. We were concerned.”

Umlaut didn't quite trust this. “About what?”

Tessa glanced across. “When you all fell asleep, we were afraid something was wrong with the food. We moved you to the bedroom so we could clean up, but we were worried.”

“It was good food,” Umlaut said. “I think I ate too much.” And he realized as he spoke that that was surely it. He had not stuffed himself like that in a long time, not even at Castle Roogna, and probably the same had happened with Sammy and Sesame. It had tasted so wonderful they couldn't stop eating. “I think that cornucopia must have really superior food.”

“Oh, it does,” Cory said. “When we first got it, we stuffed ourselves so much we threatened to put on weight.”

“We had to curb our appetites,” Tessa said. “Now we eat sparingly. But we didn't think one meal would be bad for you.”

“It wasn't,” Umlaut said. He was feeling better as he got fully awake and active. “But you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble for us.”

“It was nice having good guests,” Cory said.

“Very nice,” Tessa agreed wistfully. “Your clothes are dry now.” She handed them to Umlaut. They were not only dry, they smelled clean and fresh.

He took them and retreated to the bedroom, where he put them on. Everything was in order, and the scattered items in his pockets remained there. Nothing had been taken. He looked at his companions. They were in good order too.

Umlaut felt embarrassed for his suspicious nature. These were truly nice people. “Is there anything we can, uh, do in return?” he asked as the three of them rejoined the women in the main room.

“Oh, no,” Cory said, removing her apron. “We have delayed you too long already. We didn't know you would fall asleep.”

“But there is still time to get you to the coast today,” Tessa said, putting away the last dish. “It is not a long walk, by sidestepping.”

“By what?”

“It's our talent,” Cory explained. “We call it sidestepping.”

“Because we step into the next realm,” Tessa said. “It can be quite handy.”

“We'll show you now, if you are ready,” Cory said.

Umlaut peered out the cave entrance. The storm remained as bad as ever. “We are, but the weather isn't.”

“That's the beauty of sidestepping,” Tessa said. “It was wonderful when we discovered it.”

Umlaut didn't want to admit that he remained confused. “Then I suppose we are ready.”

“This way,” Cory said, walking to the entrance and standing just beyond the drenchpour.

“Just take our hands,” Tessa said. Then she glanced at Sammy and Sesame. “Or touch us. Once we are in the next realm, then you can be on your own, until it is time to return to this one.”

“I can carry Sammy,” Umlaut said, picking up the cat. “And if one of you lays her hand on Sesame, will that work?”

“Oh, yes,” Cory said. She held out one hand, and Umlaut took it.

“No problem,” Tessa said, laying one hand on Sesame's lifted neck.

Then the two women took each other's hands and stepped backward into the rain. Umlaut and Sesame followed, trying not to flinch as the water hit them.

No water hit them. The rain was all around, but somehow they remained dry. It was weird.

“We're through,” Cory said. “You may release my hand now.”

“Oh. Yes.” Umlaut let go and saw that Tessa had removed her hand from Sesame. He set Sammy down.

“This way,” Tessa said. She walked on through the rain, remaining dry. They all remained dry.

“Keep in single file,” Cory said. “The way is not wide.”

They walked through the forest but not in any manner Umlaut had seen before. Tessa led, and Cory followed, with Umlaut, Sammy, and Sesame in the middle. Tessa not only walked through the rain, she walked through plants and even trees without pausing—and the rest of their group passed through them too. It was as if the trees were ghosts, with no substance.

“This is the next realm?” Umlaut asked, bemused.

“Correct,” Tessa replied. “There isn't much to see except the regular realm, but we are beyond it at the moment.”

“How can we walk through trees?”

“We aren't really doing that. We are walking in the next realm, where there aren't any trees, or much of anything else. So what we see is what's in the regular realm; it bleeds over, as it were.”

“As it were,” Umlaut agreed, not really understanding.

Soon they came to the shore. A huge, seemingly endless sea stretched out before them, similar to the one the snail's river had emptied into. In fact, Umlaut suspected it was the same sea. But they had reached it much too quickly; it should have been days away. “How can we be here so quickly?”

“The next realm is smaller than ours,” Cory said, coming to stand beside him. “So traveling is faster.”

That too didn't quite make sense to him, but as usual he preferred not to show his dullness. “Where is the Isle of C—” He broke off, because if he named the isle, Sammy would take off for it, and that could be catastrophic in this next realm.

“It is one of the temporary islands,” Tessa said. “You will have to wait for its sign to appear.”

“I don't under—” But again his reluctance to admit ignorance balked him. He had more than enough of that, without admitting more. “Uh, thank you.”

“We have to return now,” Cory said. “It takes energy to remain in the next realm, and we get tired, so we need to get home and rest.”

It hadn't occurred to him that they were working to make this trip possible. “We didn't mean to put you to any trouble.” Yet that seemed inadequate, as his efforts usually did. “If there is any way we can repay the favor.” But they had already been through that.

The two women exchanged a glance, which angled at about 45° because of their heights. “There is one thing,” Tessa said shyly.

“Anything!” Umlaut said before he thought.

“A kiss,” Cory said.

Sherry's kisses had made him drunk, but these women's talent was different. It should be safe. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Tessa said. Then Cory leaned down, and Tessa reached up, and they kissed him simultaneously. Cory's was on the top of his head, which was as far down as she could reach, and Tessa's was on the bottom of his chin, as far up as she could reach.

“Now just half a moment,” Umlaut said. “I mess up all the time, but there's no need for the two of you to do that. Let's do this right.”

The two looked blankly at him.

“Come over here,” he said, going to a rock about a foot high. He put his foot on it—and his foot went through it. He had messed up again.

But they had caught on to his intention. “Maybe if we step back to the current realm,” Cory suggested.

“Take our hands,” Tessa said. “The rain has finally stopped.”

So it had; the land looked wet but drying. They got together the way they had before and stepped through to the real realm.

Then Umlaut stepped on the stone, and it was solid. He stood on it and beckoned to Cory. She came close, and he put his arms around her shoulders and brought her gently in to him. “Thank you for everything,” he said and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

He let her go, stepped down, and turned to Tessa. She got up on the rock, and he embraced her. “Thank you for everything else.” He kissed her similarly.

He stepped back. “And thank you both so much for whatever I forgot to mention,” he said.

They stood there, not moving. Was there a problem? Then he realized that they had freaked out. It had probably been years since they had had a serious kiss. He hadn't realized that women could freak out too, since men did not wear panties or have bosoms.

He snapped his fingers, and they resumed animation. “Thank you,” they said together. Then they held hands and took a step through a faint shimmer, reentering the next realm. They waved and walked back inland. They passed through a tree and were gone.

Umlaut was satisfied. He had finally done something right.

Sammy settled down to wait. He was expert at waiting; in fact, he was known as the best speed bump in Xanth.

“Now we have to find the Isle of Cats,” Umlaut said, bracing himself to chase after Sammy. But Sammy didn't move, of course. The island wasn't there yet.

They saw a sign: CHIDE FOR CHIPMUNKS.

“I don't think that's it,” Umlaut said, as if that wasn't obvious. He was decent, for a human being, but not the brightest bulb on a palace chandelier. “We'll have to look for another sign.”

But Sammy remained in place, indicating that that was not their proper course. So they waited.

They gazed out over the sea and saw an island appear. “Maybe that's it!” Umlaut exclaimed, evincing further dimness.

But now the sign said CHOOSE FOR CHIMPS. Oh. At least he had learned that they didn't have to search for another sign.

Something came from the island. It was a boat carrying a chimpanzee. It beached at a small dock they hadn't noticed before, and the chimp got out and scampered into the forest. The boat remained docked. Sammy thought he recognized the boat, but there was no sense in stirring until he was sure.

Curious, Umlaut approached the boat. It was a weird one. It had no oars or paddles, yet it had moved on its own; the chimp had simply ridden. “I wonder what makes it go?”

Sammy decided that it was time to clarify the nature of this unusual craft. He went up and rubbed against its side. The boat rubbed back.

“You mean it's alive?” Umlaut asked, surprised. Duh.

Sammy climbed into the boat. The boat heaved itself out of the water and walked on land. It had ten pairs of webbed feet. It was definitely the one.

Umlaut evidently hadn't thought about how they would reach the Isle of Cats when they found it; thinking ahead wasn't one of his strong points. Slowly he realized that this could solve that problem. “Will you take us to the. Isle of Cats, when it appears?” he asked.

The boat nodded, in its fashion, bobbing its prow. Sammy nodded, unsurprised.

Umlaut went into his nineteen-questions mode, questioning the boat, and finally learned what Sammy had known: that it was Para, son of a quack and a dream boat, one of the weirder love spring encounters, and that it liked to take folk places. It wasn't confined to the water so could take them anywhere.

Sesame hissed, attracting their attention. The sign had changed. Now it said COME FOR COWS. Indeed, there was the sound of mooosic across the water. “Not this one,” Umlaut said. Double duh. “But keep watching; we don't want to miss the Isle of Cats.” For, as Breanna of the Black Wave would have said, sure.

Umlaut continued to talk with Para, who seemed to like the attention. Who didn't? Meanwhile the sign changed to CO-OPT FOR COYOTES. That was not the one. Then it said CROSS FOR CROCODILES. Still not right. CAREER FOR CAMELS. Not yet. CALL FOR CARIBOU. In the course of the next hour several more islands appeared, fading in from wherever they were (perhaps the next realm), their signs changing to match. Sammy snoozed but kept half an eye out for the right sign.

CAPER FOR CATS.

“Not yet,” Umlaut said, weary of these endless changes.

What? Sammy nudged him, and Sesame hissed. Then the man did a double take. “That's it!”

Sammy and Sesame exchanged a glance: They had been trying to tell him.

They piled into Para, who duck-footed it to the water and plunged in. There was room in the craft for all of them, though Sesame had to lay herself out in several lines along the bottom. They forged across to the island, which seemed to bear whiskers. They had found it at last.

Meanwhile Umlaut took out the letter to Princess Ivy. Sammy knew he was supposed to read them before delivering them. He watched the human's lips move as he read and picked up the gist of it.

Dear Ivy,

I wish you were here in Mundania. My talent is growing plants, but without the aid of magic, I have to depend on the weather.

Fracto has sent a cohort here who is maniacally controlling our climate's functions. Rather presumptuous of them to expect he'd find a welcome here. At this time of year in our valley, temperatures are usually becoming quite warm and our sun graces us with his presence for several hours daily. Since Fatso's friend has been with us, he lurks about, prowling back and forth, creating ghastly times. We have not seen the sun for many days, wind is constantly howling, and it has been raining continually. For some areas this is typical, but not here! In his lair in the clouds he takes fiendish delight in teasing us. He flicks a wisp of fog, and the rain stops for a few moments. We just dare to hope that the perverse weather patterns have changed, when. . . blink . . . it is pouring again, and cold! Our prophets sadly tell me to expect more of the same for quite some time.

Our valley is famous for its fruit production, but the orchards and vineyards are suffering. I have strained my talent to the utmost but am still discovering fatalities. If you were here you could enhance it and we would be fine again.

Ever consider making another visit to Mundania? No, I did not think so, but writing you has made me feel marginally better.

Your friend, Arjayess

P.S. Tell Fracto to get lost and take his friend Curmudgeon Cloud with him!!

Umlaut looked up. “I don't see anything dangerous about this letter. It just tells the truth about Fracto.” He looked at Sammy. “What do you think?”

Sammy thought it was a fine letter. He especially liked the way it called the ornery cloud Fatso. If Fracto heard that, he would blow his top so high it would hit the moon. Theoretically Fracto was now a benign cloud, but he still rained on picnics when he thought he could get away with it.

Umlaut put away the letter, satisfied that it was safe to deliver. Of course Sammy knew it also did not solve the problem of Demon Jupiter's Red Spot, which was even now hurtling toward Earth and Xanth. Sammy had no idea how they were going to handle that. He was afraid the Red Spot was a bigger and worse storm than any Fracto could manage. He didn't see how any stupid letter would deal with that. But the Good Magician was never wrong, in his devious human way, so something was bound to happen.

They landed at another little dock; it seemed there was a pair of them that Para shuttled between, though he was hardly confined to them. “Uh, will you take us back across, when we're done here?” Umlaut asked Para as they disembarked. “We'd really appreciate it.”

The boat nodded, glad to be of service.

Sammy stood and looked around. He saw catfish swimming near the shore, and catnip was growing in patches. There was a catsup puddle. Not far distant was the entrance to a catacomb. A river had a cataract, surmounted by a catwalk. There was definitely a feline quality to this island. He liked it.

However, they had come to deliver a letter to Ivy, who was visiting her husband's parents. “Where is—” Umlaut started. But Sammy was already bounding ahead; he knew where they were going. “Wait for us!” the human cried foolishly behind. What was required, naturally, was not waiting but keeping up.

They passed by a number of prowling cats; this was, after all, their isle. Sammy ignored them; there would be another time. Soon they came to a nice house in a garden. Sammy charged up to the door and scratched on it.

It opened, and the Sorceress Vadne appeared. “Can it be?” she asked, looking down at Sammy.

Of course it was; who else would it be? Sammy brushed by her and went inside. And there was Princess Ivy. “Sammy!” she cried, sweeping him up and enhancing him with a few well-placed strokes. At least she knew what was what.

Sammy settled down in Ivy's nice embrace and endured the dull human introductions. Humans put great store in pointless formalities, usually at the expense of necessary attention to cats. But that was the way they were. Maybe in a few more millennia they would evolve to the point of recognizing what was truly important. But they had a long way to go. Fortunately it was possible to let the dull words roll over him and fade into the woodwork where they belonged.

“I am, uh, Umlaut. My talent is emulation; I can make myself seem like something else, within reason. This is, well, Sesame Serpent, who is helping me, with a similar talent. And I guess you know Sammy Cat, who comes from Jenny Elf. He can find anything except home.”

Half right and half outrage. Of course they knew Sammy; they had been at Jenny's wedding to the werewolf prince. But the notion that Sammy belonged to Jenny was preposterous; Jenny belonged to Sammy. Why did humans and their elf variants think they were the center of the universe? Didn't they pay any attention at all to reality?

“I am Magician Murphy, with the talent of making things go wrong, though I don't practice it anymore. This is my wife the Sorceress Vadne, whose talent is topology; she can change the forms of things without changing their essential natures.”

“I am the Princess Ivy,” Ivy said, stroking another stroke; at least she wasn't neglecting that. “My talent is to enhance living things.” She glanced down. “But of course Sammy doesn't need enhancing.”

Now that was a worthwhile observation.

“And this is my husband Grey Murphy, whose talent is to nullify magic.”

Magician Murphy turned again to Umlaut. “And what is your business with us?”

“I have an, uh, letter to deliver to Princess Ivy.” He stepped across to Ivy and handed her the letter. “From Mundania.”

“From Mundania!” Ivy said, surprised. “I only really got to know one person there, and I married him.” She glanced at Grey.

“All the letters are from Mundania,” Umlaut explained. “They seem to be from strangers to different Xanthians. I have delivered letters to Princess Ida, the Zombie Master, Queen Irene—”

“My mother and my twin sister,” Ivy said. “You have me bracketed. How did you come across the letters?”

Before Umlaut could go into the dull details of that, Magician Murphy broke in. “All in good time. First we have one other introduction to make: our feline associate, Claire Voyant.” He gestured to a cushion set in a nook on the far wall where a cat reposed.

Sammy looked, of course. His gaze met that of the other cat, and he did the feline equivalent of freaking out. She was—just so— feline. He had never encountered a cat like her. Actually he had not encountered many cats at all in the Land of Xanth and fewer he would care to know. This Isle of Cats was a rare discovery and surely had many interesting folk of the feline persuasion. But Claire—what a queen! She was pure glossy black, her fur in perfect order, her whiskers long and fine, her paws delicate, an absolutely lovely creature.

The human dialogue continued, but Sammy tuned it out. His attention was wholly taken by Claire. She stretched languorously and jumped down from her nook, indicating by a significant twitch of her tail that he should follow her.

He wriggled in Ivy's embrace, and she automatically set him down. She was a princess and therefore well trained. Then he moved in a relaxed manner toward Claire and followed her out of the room. She led him through the kitchen and to a cat door in the back, leading to the outdoors. She continued walking along a catwalk, and he continued following.

The isle seemed to be divided into sections, each with its own habitat. They passed through a lion veldt, a tiger jungle, puma country, a jaguar forest, a leopard spot, a Persian carpet, a Siamese temple, and other distinct regions. Claire ignored them all, and Sammy tried to, though they were interesting. He had had no idea that so many varieties of cat existed in Xanth. But of course that was the nature of these special islands: They were only deviously related to mainland Xanth. Sammy thought of the Isle of Women and the Isle of Wolves in the W section; they faded in and out as convenient for their inhabitants. Had he realized there was an Isle of Cats he would have sought it long ago.

They almost collided with an unsteady black cat. Claire was annoyed but then picked up on the situation. This was Midnight Cat, recently arrived from Mundania, and lost. Go to the admission center, Claire suggested. They would assign a suitable residence. Midnight nodded appreciatively and headed in the indicated direction.

They came to a massive tree with wonderfully rough bark. Claire shinnied up the trunk, and Sammy followed. They passed branch after branch, some occupied by other cats, some clear. They continued upward until the trunk grew small and swayed in the wind. At last they came to the highest branch, which was actually a triple fork topping the tree, with cords strung between the branches to make a kind of nest. What a penthouse!

Gaze that way, Claire indicated.

Sammy gazed that way and saw a neighboring isle. His ears perked up and his eye slits widened. Birds!

The Isle of Birds, she agreed. Every kind of bird nested there, from humming to roc. Of course the treaty of noninterference they had made with the residents prevented them from raiding it or eating any of the birds, even when they strayed across to the Isle of Cats. But it was always a salivating pleasure just to watch.

Sammy had to agree. Even the little bit of the Isle of Birds he could see was mouthwatering in its collection of feathered flyers, a most pleasant sight. Then he glanced at a giant nest atop a stout tree even taller than this one and saw the head of a roc watching them with similar avidity. Rocs were birds of prey, rather large ones. Perhaps that treaty was just as well; predation was a two-way process.

The small talk was done. Now at last they could relax and converse in depth. They did so by body positions, tail switches, whisker twitches, and spot smells the human folk called pheromones. Taken all together, it was a far more competent language than the limited vocal sounds the humans uttered from their bunghole mouths.

It was time for the formal introduction. He was Sammy Cat, he signaled, actually giving his real name rather than the limited designation humans knew him by. His normal associate was Jenny Elf.

She was Claire Voyant, she replied similarly. Her normal associates were the Magician Murphy and Sorceress Vadne.

His talent was to find anything except home.

Hers was clairvoyance, of course.