Up In A Heaval (19 page)

“None of those answers is correct,” the professor said. “The bug will continue until it is correctly identified.”

Indeed, the bug flew to another demoness, mussing her hair, and another, making a rude noise in her ear. Then it approached Sesame. She snapped at it, but it dodged clear.

Umlaut was afraid its attention would attract notice and give away the serpent's identity. “A ladybug!” he cried. “Because it bugs only ladies.” '

Instantly the bug flew back to its alcove. “Correct,” the professor said. “There's a head without an undue content of mush.” He moved on.

Umlaut was thrilled to have found such faint favor. But he still had to deliver the letter and wasn't sure now was the time. It would be better to catch the professor alone.

The professor came to a niche. A nondescript, somewhat servile-looking man stood there. “Who can identify this man?” he demanded.

No one answered; much was the order of the moment.

“We shall question him,” the professor said. He faced the man. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” the man answered.

“Excellent. Do you like it here?”

“Yes.”

“And do you believe the price of has-beans in Beanovia is fair?”

“Yes.”

The professor turned to the class. “You,” he said, fixing his inordinate glare on a cowering bug-eyed elf. “Ask him a question.”

“But I'm just a lowly mush-minded frosh student,” the elf protested.

“Yes,” the man agreed.

“You,” the professor said, indicating a fainting flower of a demoness.

“Do you wear shorts or briefs?” she asked faintly.

“Yes.”

The professor's mush-vanquishing gaze struck Umlaut. “You.”

“He's a yes-man,” Umlaut said desperately. “He says yes to everything.”

The professor's fixed grimace ameliorated almost imperceptibly. “Exactly.”

More eyes turned on him, some with awe, others with disdain. He had answered two questions and found faint favor. Did that make him a class pariah?

They moved on to a clothes rack. “Who can identify the nature of this coat?”

They gathered around it. The coat was somewhat drab, with a dull ruff of fur and old-fashioned fasteners down the front.

“Vintage nineteen hundred Mundania?” a student demon asked, and quailed before the professor's glare of negation.

“Oh, who cares?” a demoness with a troll face asked. “It's wa-a-ay out of fashion.”

“Then put it on, D. Base,” the professor snapped.

Demoness Base tried to balk but was helpless in the face of the mush-destroying gaze that fixed on her. Gingerly she put the coat on over her shoulders. Then she smiled, and her entire disposition became sunnier. Her face became almost human. “I like it.”

“What kind of coat?”

“Who cares? It's very comfortable.”

“Pass it on,” the professor said.

Reluctantly the demoness did, her expression souring as she parted with it. A frog-faced demon tried it on next. “Extremely nice,” he said, brightening.

“What kind?”

“I really can't say, but there is something pleasing about it.”

“Pass it on.”

Obviously disinclined, he did so. He set it on the shoulders of a ferret-faced demon who was about to squish a butterfly under his foot. But when the coat landed on him, he stooped to pick the insect up and guide it to a nice flower.

“Anyone!” the professor said, exasperated by the sheer volume of mush. When no one answered, he speared Umlaut with another glance.

“Uh, a sugarcoat,” Umlaut said. “It makes people sweet.”

“Precisely.” The professor glared at Umlaut with a tinge of curiosity. “Have you taken this class before?”

“Oh, no sir!” Umlaut exclaimed, terrified.

The professor did not seem quite satisfied, but he let it be. He stopped by a group of stone gargoyles. “Where is the beauty?” he demanded of the class.

They considered the figures. Each gargoyle was uglier than its neighbors. Each had huge glistening eyes set in great long faces, and an open mouth from which driblets of water flowed. They all seemed to be looking at something, but there was nothing but a blank wall in that direction. None of them could by any stretch of fevered imagination be called beautiful.

“Look closely,” the professor said. “Find the beauty.”

They looked closely, but the ugliness of the gargoyles seemed only to get worse.

“Ceit,” Grossclout said, glaring at a halfway pretty demoness. Her top half was pretty; her bottom half was gross.

“I am only auditing this class,” D. Ceit said evasively.

“Chickenlips!” the professor rapped.

The demon student with chickenlike lips quailed. “Maybe to another gargoyle they are beautiful,” he quavered.

“But you are not a gargoyle.”

“I am not,” the demon admitted, abashed.

“Hophead!”

A demon with a weird-shaped head tried to answer. “She must be hiding behind the gargoyles—or somewhere,” he assayed.

“But you have not found her?”

“No, sir,” Hophead said, hunching down as if being beaten over the head.

Meanwhile Umlaut was looking closely at the gargoyles. He saw that their eyes reflected a picture of a lovely young human woman, but when he looked there, there was still only the blank wall.

“Umlaut!” the professor said.

Galvanized, Umlaut responded. “In the eyes! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“To be sure.” The professor walked on. The class murmured with mixed awe and envy.

Only after a long moment and a short instant did Umlaut realize that the professor had called him by name. They hadn't fooled Grossclout at all. “Oh, no,” he murmured.

There did not seem to be any transition, but suddenly they weren't in the class anymore. They were at the edge of a huge volcanic caldera. Red lava boiled in the base of it, and smoke rose toward them.

“Now before I drop you into this, what is your puny pretext for a lame excuse for disrupting my class?” the professor demanded.

Umlaut was terrified. “I didn't mean to do that. I just came to deliver a—”

"Not you, Umlaut. Her.”

Umlaut felt his shirt twitch. “Curses, I think he's on to us,” it murmured.

“You know you're not supposed to come near my classes.”

“Oh, pooh! You can't keep me out.”

Umlaut floated off the rim of the caldera and sailed down toward the fiery lava. He tried to take a breath to scream, but the smoke got in his face and choked him.

He dropped down until his feet almost touched the red lava. He felt the heat coming through his shoes.

“Oh, all right,” his shirt said. “My quarter conscience won't let you hurt him for his little bit of guilt. Let him go.”

Umlaut hoped the demon professor would accede. Maybe the volcano didn't scare Demoness Metria, but it appalled mortal Umlaut.

Then the four of them were in an austere office, facing the demon professor's large desk. “Was your head so full of mush that you thought you could get away with this intrusion, D. Metria?” the professor demanded.

Umlaut's shirt turned to smoke. Metria formed. “Well, it was fun trying.”

“What is your mischief this time?”

“Umlaut has a letter for you.” A smirk was pushing itself through her mouth, trying to reach her lips. “From Mundania.”

“Then let's have it.” The letter sailed from Umlaut's pocket to the hand of the professor. Only after half an interval did he remember that it had been in his regular shirt pocket, and then he had removed that shirt. Yet flow his shirt was back on him, and the letter had been there to be delivered. They really had not fooled Grossclout.

The professor glanced at the letter. Tiny jets of steam issued from his ears, and a faint halo of fire outlined his head, but he did not react overtly. “This seems somewhat misinformed. The acquisition of a soul was intended to bring you under control. It succeeded only partially, unfortunately.”

“What do you expect of half a soul?” Metria asked disdainfully. Her skirt shortened until it was at the very verge of showing a polka dot. Was she actually trying to beguile the professor? “Even a whole soul would not make me behave. When I passed a quarter of it on to my son Ted six years ago, what was left had even less effect.” The fringe of the skirt retreated, showing the edge of a dot.

“True, unfortunately.” The professor clapped his hands with a report like that of a dry tree cracking asunder. “Begone, vamp.”

Metria vanished. Only the lone polka dot remained. It spun to the floor, bounced, and dissipated. Umlaut was impressed by the way Grossclout had handled her.

The professor looked at him. “What is your impression of the demoness?”

“Oh, I, uh, wouldn't presume to judge.”

A small crackle of glaze appeared on an eyeball, but the demon's voice remained calm. “Answer the question.”

He had to do it. “I, uh, don't quite trust her. She has been trying to stop me from delivering the letters. I suppose it's just her natural mischief, but—”

“But what?”

“Well, my opinion is ignorant, of course. But sometimes it seems as if there is something else, so I can't blame it all on her.”

“Example.”

“When I went to Zombie World, a girl tried to distract me, and I think that was really Metria emulating her, but also there were the Dire Straits and Scylla and Charybdis, which I don't think Metria could have managed, and then Charybdis showed up here in Xanth too. It's as if something wants to stop me, and maybe Metria is helping it.”

“Why would anyone or anything wish to prevent delivery of ignorant letters?”

“Because somewhere in the course of these deliveries I'm supposed to find the answer to the problem of the Red Spot Demon Jupiter hurled at Earth and Xanth. Good Magician Humfrey suggested that. Something may not want that answer to be found. Maybe the author of the letter that so angered Demon Jupiter.”

“We shall verify,” the professor said. The wall behind his desk became a great window onto what looked like the night sky, with myriad stars. Looming in the foreground was a great swirl of reddish light. It expanded visibly as they watched, coming ominously closer.

“That looks bigger than all Xanth!” Umlaut said, impressed and horrified.

“Correct. Its impact will not be kind to our worlds. It will be necessary to halt its progress soon.”

“Yes! But how can we do that?”

Grossclout glanced at him. “Are you aware of the nature of the Demons, capitalized?”

“Like the Demon Xanth? They have more power than all the rest of us combined.”

“Exactly. Only a Demon can halt the thrust of a Demon, and that can get messy. We need to ascertain why the Demon Jupiter did this and then try to ameliorate his ire. That is the most likely solution hidden in your letters.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem to be a curious choice to handle so important a task.”

“Yes, sir. I don't even seem to be a full person. I can't remember my past life, and others tell me I don't exist. I hate that.”

“Why?”

“Because I have made some fine friends and maybe fallen in love. Where would any of them be if I don't exist? I mean, maybe I don't deserve anything special, but it's not right to mess up the lives of others.”

Grossclout looked at Umlaut without any glare at all; it seemed he was capable of nonglaring when he put his mind to it. “You are indeed innocent.” He glanced back over his shoulder, and the window became the wall. “One moment while I investigate.” He faded out.

Umlaut shook his head, which was threatening to spin. “Do you make any sense of this?” he asked the others.

Serpent and both cats shook their heads. Claire knew much, but demon business was beyond her.

“I'm glad Professor Grossclout is investigating. I think he's a wonderful person, regardless of what Metria thinks. He knows so much he fairly radiates power of intellect. I wish I could really be in one of his classes.”

They nodded; they were impressed too.

Grossclout reappeared; exactly one moment had passed. “The answer to the hazard of the Red Spot is not here. But continue your effort; the mission is important.”

“Uh, thank you, sir,” Umlaut said.

“You did well in class. Since you may not be graded or promoted for that, not being a registered member, I am minded to do you a favor. What would you like?”

“Oh, I wasn't looking for—”

“I am aware of that. Your head is not entirely filled with mush. Ask.”

“I—I want to exist. I mean, if I don't. So I can be with Surprise.”

Professor Grossclout considered. “That may be more of a challenge than you understand. I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you, sir. I—”

But the professor was gone. Rather, the four of them were gone from Grossclout's domain. They were back at the ParaDice islands, standing at the shore, and Para was paddling across to meet them. He looked happy, though Umlaut wasn't sure how a boat conveyed happiness. It must have been a nice visit.

“Uh, you can remain here, if you want,” Umlaut said.

But the boat wanted to help them complete their mission first. That was fine with Umlaut.

Now he had to deliver the next letter. Umlaut decided that trying to make decisions wasn't working very well, so he simply grabbed the next one in the pile. It said TANDY NYMPH.

“Who is Tandy Nymph?” he asked. “One of the folk at the Faun & Nymph Retreat?”

Sammy leaped out of the boat and bounded across the greensward, “Wait for us!“ Umlaut called. Naturally the cat ignored that. But he had a new strategy. He turned to Claire, who remained in the boat. ”Can you do something? We can't keep up with him through this jungle." For the forest was indeed a jungle in this region.

Claire poked her chin over the gunwale. “Mew,” she said faintly.

Sammy screeched to a halt, looking abashed, allowing them to catch up. Then he proceeded at a more sedate pace, and Para followed without difficulty,

It was amazing what impression a lady could make on a man. Or a queen on a torn, or whatever.

That reminded him of Surprise Golem. “Surprise,” he breathed, longing for her nearness.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, appearing in the seat opposite him. She wore a nice blue dress and looked just utterly completely perfect.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed gladly, grabbing for her hand. But his hand passed right through hers. That brought him to as much of a halt as Sammy had recently made. “What?”

She laughed, and her hair flared. “I'm here in astral projection. You can see me and hear me, but you can't touch me. A girl can't be too careful, you know.”

He caught on. “Oh, Surprise, you're using one of your talents! But won't you lose it?”

“Yes, but it's worth it, to be with you a while. After all, one day we will be betrothed.”

“Oh, Surprise,” he repeated, melting into goo.

“I sneaked out to the edge where there is magic and went astral and looked for you, but I couldn't find you until you said my name. Names are potent.”

“I was longing for your company,” he confessed. “But I didn't think I could have it. I mean, even if I could return to Euphoria, your folks wouldn't let me be with you.”

“We had a real session after you left,” she agreed. “Stern as stern could be. But I tolerated it.”

“They don't like me.”

“They don't dislike you,” she said seriously. “It's just that they're parents and I'm a teen. They don't want me dating or even meeting any boy, and when I come of age, they still won't admit that any boy is good enough for me. That's the way parents are; it's in their specifications.”

“But then why are you here? I mean, I'm so glad you are, but—”

“That's the way teens are. We never pay much attention to idiotic parental restrictions. Where would they be, if they had listened to their parents? I wouldn't even exist.”

The very notion appalled him. “You had to exist, so I could meet you!” Then he thought of something else. “But I thought Grundy was a golem. So he never had parents.”

“Yes, of course. He was made, not delivered. But later he managed to become real. It's a long story he'll be glad to bore you with some time. And Rapunzel was raised alone in an ivory tower. But when they joined the dread Adult Conspiracy they learned all about parenting; I think it comes in the same manual with summoning the stork. So it's the same. Anyway, here I am, for a while. Let's not argue.”

“Oh, Surprise, I couldn't argue with you!” She frowned. “Oh? Who would you rather argue with?”

“Well, the Demoness Metria, for one.”

“While she tries to freak you out by showing her naughty panties? I should think you would think more of me than that.” Her expression was severe.

He stared at her, baffled. “I, uh—oh, Surprise, if I said something wrong, I'm sorry! Please forgive me. I don't want you to be mad at me.”

She laughed. “I'm teasing, you dope! The same way my parents tease each other. I'm glad you don't want to argue with me. And after we're betrothed, I may even show you my panties.”

“You've got panties?” he asked, flustered. And knew he had fouled up yet again. “I mean you're such a nice girl—”

“And nice girls don't have panties?”

“I, uh, don't know.” He was blushing.

“They have naked bottoms?”

Umlaut's flush chased his blush across his face. “Uh—”

“You're just an endless bundle of embarrassment, aren't you!” She leaned forward and kissed him, though there was no touch. “You were so polite, never even trying to look, I knew you were decent.”

“I just didn't have the wit to think of it,” he said, still flustered. His wits were not sharp at the best of times, and in her presence, astral or not, he was hopelessly klutzy.

She began to fade. “Oops, I'm fading,” she said. “I can't stay. My astral power is exhausted, and I'll never have it again. Kiss me quickly!”

He tried to, but his face passed right through hers, to his dismay.

“Gotcha again,” she said merrily as she disappeared.

“You've got me, all right,” he agreed as he settled back. Then he looked around. Sesame and Claire were watching him understandingly. They evidently knew how women handled men, and approved.

Meanwhile Para was running swiftly after Sammy, and the jungle was passing just about as rapidly behind. Umlaut hoped Tandy Nymph was close; the day was getting late. He brought out the letter and read it.

Dear Tandy,

ARJAYESS ME

TANDY SHE

TO KNOW FRIEND

SO LETTER SEND

WORLDS UNITE

ATTEMPTS TO WRITE

WISH YOU NEAR

SO VERY DEAR.

Hi. I thought I would begin this with a form of communicating you must be familiar with, having ogres as family through marriage.

If you have recently spoken with Breanna, Irene, or Jenny, you will know of me.

I began these letters in the frozen season—winter. Now it is spring, the time of new birth. Many baby animals are being born (as well as human ones, I am sure—it is a very busy time for the storks). Leaves are opening on trees, flowers blooming everywhere, and our sun has returned, bringing with it many species of birds. Two in particular are my favorites. I make flower gardens and need earthworms to enrich the soil. I am always amused when the robber birds with their brilliant red breasts come back to take my worms. Whenever I see one pouncing on a worm, we have a pretend argument with me scolding them for stealing my worms. Truly, though, I do not begrudge them the food for their babies.

The other one I am happy to see returned is the hover bird. They are very small, averaging only about three inches, and build nests around half the size of a human's thumb. Hover birds flap their wings so rapidly that it creates a curious humming sound. I provide their preferred food to attract them, as watching them zip here to there is a great source of joy to me. Compared to the size of your harpies and rocs, our hover birds are like precious flying jewels. Your mother would love them.

It is time to go outdoors and start my morning. I like to see how many hover birds and robbers I can count each day.

Have a sunny day, Tandy. I hope Fracto is elsewhere.

Your friend, Arjayess

Umlaut considered that. He wasn't sure what the word born meant but guessed it was another term for the stork's deliveries. The creatures named were strange, but of course the letter was from Mundania, said to be a very strange place. He did not see anything in the letter to annoy anyone, let alone make the recipient try to destroy Xanth. So this one was safe, it seemed.

Unfortunately, it also gave him no clue how to abate the menace of the Red Spot. He was beginning to wonder whether any of the letters really would do that. So far he had gone to several interesting places and met several interesting folk, and seen Sesame, Sammy, and himself find worthwhile partners. Even Para Boat had found a nice place to return to. So in that sense the mission had done several folk some good. But it hadn't solved the big problem.

He put away the letter. “Do you know Tandy Nymph?” he asked

Sesame and Claire. Both shook their heads. Sesame didn't know many humanoid landbound folk, and Claire's voyance did not seem to operate at a distance. Ah, well, he would find out soon enough.

They came to a region of moderate hills. The trees cleared back to give the hills room, and smart little breezes came in to play. It was pleasant, as many areas of Xanth tended to be. Soon they passed a sign that said ZEPHYR HILLS. That explained it; this was where the zephyrs, the cute little winds, lived. Probably when they grew bigger and stronger they would go out and become less cute blow-hards.

But now it was really getting dark, and they had not eaten since he remembered not when. “We'd better camp for the night,” he said. “Sammy, if you care to find a good place—”

Sammy glanced back at Claire, who nodded agreement. He took off at an angle, and soon they came to a nice little valley. Indeed, a sign said PEARL VALLEY. Umlaut looked around but didn't see any pearls.

They came to a large old house. An old woman emerged. “Have you travelers come to spend the night?” she inquired as Sammy rubbed against her legs.

“Uh, yes,” Umlaut said. “I thought there might be a campsite, with pie trees and a spring.”

She laughed. “Not here. But I have many rooms, and home-baked pies, and jugs of good well water, and a lava tree. Will those do?”

Umlaut glanced at Claire, who nodded. This was a suitable place. “Uh, yes, sure. We don't want to put you to much trouble. We're sort of a mixed group.”

“No trouble at all. I like having company, if only for a night. I am Pearl Valley.”

“Uh,” Umlaut started, but ran out of words. He found some new ones in half a moment, fortunately. “I thought the sign meant—I was looking for pearls.”

Pearl laughed more thoroughly. “That's my sign, so travelers can find my house. And this is my companion, Sheba. She is cautious about cats but will get along if you are polite.” She glanced at Sesame. “What is it you eat?”

“Not dogs!” Umlaut said quickly.

“That's good. Sheba came from Mundania the same time I did, so we get along. She's what is called there an Australian shepherd. Some cruel Mundanian cut off her tail, but that did not sour her nature. Come on in.” She glanced at Para. “I do have a quack pond out back.” Para brightened. His father had been a quack, his mother a dream boat; quack ponds were ideal.

Soon they were in the house, and Pearl was right: There were excellent fresh pies and much else to eat and drink. Sheba was friendly with Umlaut, diffident about the cats, and quite cautious about Sesame. But overall it was a good night. The lava tree was especially nice; it grew toilets that filled with lava after use and became tree stumps, and there were washbasins filled with water. The lava tree's trunk had flat shiny facets that enabled Umlaut to see himself, making sure he was clean.

“I could get used to a place like this,” he confided to Sesame.

It did seem nice, for his kind, she agreed in Serpentine. She would rather go swimming with Soufflé.

That reminded him of Surprise. “I think I'm in love.”

They all were, she suggested. That much they had gained from the letters, even if they didn't save Xanth.

That was perhaps an odd way to put it, but he had to agree. “I am better off for having come to know you too.”

Thank you. She kissed his ear. Umlaut felt guilty for wishing it had been Surprise doing that.

Well fed and rested, they thanked Pearl and Sheba, and set off again next morning. “I hope you are not going too close to the Region of Madness,” Pearl said. “We passed through it, but I don't recommend it for travelers.”

“We have to deliver a letter to Tandy Nymph.” She shook her head.

“I don't know that name. There are some ogres there, though; beware of them.”

“Ogres!” Umlaut had emulated one on occasion but wasn't eager to meet one personally. “We'll try to be alert for them.”

But Claire was shaking her head. Umlaut dreaded to think what that might mean, so he didn't inquire.

The scenery became somehow different. Umlaut wasn't sure what bothered him about it, as there was nothing obvious. Maybe it was the way the trunks of the trees were turning purple, while the foliage became iridescent. Possibly it was the little animals walking along on their ears while waving their legs in the air.

Then he saw one of the convenient little signs: BEWARE: REGION OF MADNESS. So this was that dread region Pearl had warned them about. And Sammy was leading them right into it.

Well, how bad could it be? They had already been through some pretty odd regions, after all.

They came to a gully traversed by what seemed to be a huge spiderweb. Fortunately Sammy was leading them along the ridge beside it, rather than into it. Umlaut watched as they passed it. He saw that each gust of wind caused the web to ripple, making waves like those of the sea. Then he saw spiders riding little boards on those waves. What was the point of that?

He looked at Claire, and soon he had the answer: Those were web surfers. Well, that wasn't any madder than the rest of this region.

Something charged at them from the side. It was big and fierce, reminding him of a bear, though he had never before seen a bear. Yet there was something odd about it. Para veered away from it— into the big web. Suddenly they were tangled in the endless mesh of the web, to the vast annoyance of the spiders. Then they dropped on through it into the gully, trailing sticky lines.

Meanwhile the bear leaped after them—and also fell into the surfing web, messing up more of it. The spiders, already annoyed, got really mad at this second disruption. They swarmed over the bear, trussing it up with endless web lines. It couldn't escape because, oddly, it wasn't as solid as the boat had been. It seemed to be made of lines rather than firm flesh.

Then a dim bulb flashed, and he understood. “It's a thread bear!” he exclaimed, laughing. Just the kind of creature to be found in a place like this.

Claire looked disdainfully at him. Hadn't that been obvious?

But now they were down in the gully, and the surfing web was above. They couldn't get out without breaking through it, and the spiders would really be enraged if that happened a third time.

The gully ended, but not the web; it stretched rhythmically across the top, sealing it neatly off. The spiders, having repaired the breaks, were surfing again. There were hundreds of them, and every so often several glanced down, almost daring the folk below to mess with the web again. It was clear that web surfers did not like holes in their program.