Up In A Heaval (24 page)

“When I speak, the world pauses to listen. Normally it is turning, so you feel it when it stops. That's why I prefer to walk alone. It utterly ruins my social life. But I didn't want to be impolite when you addressed me.”

He was beginning to get it. “The world itself stops to listen?”

This time she merely nodded, and the effect did not manifest. It seemed to be true: Everything stopped when she spoke, just as if the world were a boat that abruptly halted, spilling its occupants. He couldn't see it because everything stopped together.

This was awkward. “Then maybe you shouldn't speak anymore. I mean, we shouldn't require you to.”

She nodded again, sadly. He realized that her life was bound to be lonely, because so few would care to tolerate her dialogue. She looked as though she were attracted to him, but he knew better than to broach any subject like that. That made him feel guilty, though he wasn't sure he had sufficient reason.

They moved on, leaving the woman behind. Umlaut felt somehow guilty. But what else could he do? Her talent made her almost impossible to deal with.

They moved inland. They saw a range of mountains ahead, and it seemed they would have to wend their way through it. There was a dragon circling around the peak of one mountain, then it dived down and disappeared. Its nest must be there. Unfortunately their path seemed to pass right by that mountain.

They climbed a winding path that finally managed to slip between two peaks and descend beyond. But beyond it was another mountain, and they were heading for that. Nada Naga lived on a mountain?

Then they passed a sign: GOBLIN MOUNTAIN. “But we want the naga territory,” Umlaut protested.

Sammy shook his head. He knew where Princess Nada was.

“Among goblins?” Umlaut asked incredulously.

A cloud of smoke formed before them. “That's what the tomcat witnesses.”

“He whats?”

“Testifies, asseverates, indicates, pronounces, affirms—”

“Says?”

“Whatever,” the cloud agreed crossly.

“You're too late, Metria. We've already located Nada Naga.”

“Of course, and I wish you all the best with her. But it's really Sesame Serpent I came to see.”

Sesame's head jerked up. What?

The demoness seemed to understand Serpentine. “I know where to find the end to Soufflé’s curse. So if you really want to abate it, now's the time.”

Sesame looked at Umlaut. He looked at Claire. “Is this true?”

Claire nodded, though she seemed ill at ease. Apparently it was true, but there was a kicker somewhere. Still, it was a chance that needed to be taken. “Better go for it, then,” Umlaut said.

Sesame wriggled uncertainly. She didn't want to leave him alone among the goblins.

“You aren't the one to go,” Metria said. “The cats can handle it. You can stay with Umlaut.”

Sesame wasn't entirely easy with that, either, but did not protest.

The cats departed, Claire with some reluctance. Was there some price to be paid for the abatement of the curse? “What's the catch?” Umlaut demanded of the demoness. But he was too late; she had dissipated.

They proceeded on to the mountain. It was rounded, with tiers and apertures galore. Goblins were running in and out of the multiple entrances, doing obscure things. The scene reminded Umlaut of a huge busy anthill. Each goblin was about half the height of a human man, dark skinned, with a big ugly head and big hands and feet. Every goblin was scowling, sneering, or looking angry.

They were challenged at the main entrance by a goblin guard. “What do you jerks want?”

“I am Umlaut, and this is Sesame, and this is Para Boat. We have come to deliver a letter to Princess Nada Naga, who we understand is here,”

The guard checked a listing. “Who do you claim to be, knot-head?”

“Umlaut,” Umlaut repeated, annoyed.

The guard pointed at a particular entrance. “Take that one, joker.”

Sesame and Para started to follow. “Not you, snake eyes. Or you, quack foot.”

Sesame raised her head and gaped her mouth impressively, emulating an annoyed dragon. The goblin hastily rechecked his list. “Okay, you're on,” he conceded grudgingly.

They entered the indicated hole. Beyond it was a long, dusky tunnel. They followed it down, down into the very depths of the mountain. Umlaut began to feel claustrophobic; if there were a collapse of the tunnel, they would be trapped and perhaps suffocated. But Sesame was handling it well, so he tried to emulate her attitude.

The passage ended at a stout closed door. Uncertain what was expected, Umlaut knocked on it.

It opened to show a lovely goblin woman in a sleek black gown. She was dark in the goblin manner, with long black hair, small hands and feet, and attractive face and figure. She stood less than half Umlaut's height but was aesthetic in all the ways the goblin guard had been ugly. “You would be Umlaut and Sesame,” she said, her voice dulcet. “And Para Boat! I am so glad to meet you at last. I am Gwendolyn Goblin, chiefess of Goblin Mountain, but please call me Gwenny. Do come in.”

“Uh, thank you,” Umlaut said. “I think we came to the wrong door. We were looking for Nada Naga.”

“She is here, but I decided to interview you first. A princess can't be too careful.”

“Oh, I don't mean her any harm! I just have a letter for her.”

“Similar to the letter that caused Demon Jupiter to hurl his Red Spot at us?”

“I hope not! The Good Magician told me to deliver the letters, and we'd find the answer to that, uh, problem. So I'm doing it.” But she had made her point: Folk had to be careful about letters.

“Do sit down. I have prepared a repast for you.”

“A, uh, what?”

“I thought you would be hungry after your arduous journey here.”

The last good meal he had eaten had been carrot. He settled down on the plush low couch she indicated, and Sesame coiled beside it. Para relaxed his feet and rested on the carpeted floor.

Gwenny brought an ornate tray set with two crystal goblets, a plateful of cookies, a parchment, and a freshly stunned rat. She gave the rat to Sesame, who appreciated it and set about swallowing it whole, and the parchment to Para. “My scouts were scouting around a distant lake,” she explained. “They found this and brought it back for burning in a fire, but I rescued it. Male goblins don't have much sense. I believe it is a picture of your mother.” She unrolled it, and sure enough, there was a painting of the loveliest boat anyone could have imagined. Para didn't seem to have eyes but evidently was able to see the picture. He gazed at it and faded out, leaving the picture on the floor.

“I didn't know he could do that,” Umlaut said, surprised.

“It's not magic,” Gwenny explained. “He is so taken with it that he is entirely tuned out, not aware of anything else.”

Umlaut realized that he had been slow again. Of course when a person tuned out he became invisible to the world. He had somehow thought it was the other way around.

“And that leaves us,” Gwenny said, sitting down beside Umlaut, halfway facing him, and crossing her legs. They were very nice legs. “Have some boot rear and a cookie.” She held the tray toward him.

“Uh, thank you.” He took one goblet—naturally that would be the kind of drinking vessel goblins had—and a cookie. He was prepared for the drink, which gave the drinker a pleasant kick in the rear when sipped and a harder one when gulped. But the cookie was odd; it looked like a mass of lines and wires. “I haven't seen one like this.”

“It records your identity and tastes,” she explained. “So that every cookie thereafter will be perfect for you. Com Pewter discovered this kind and likes it very well.”

“Oh.” Further protest seemed pointless, so he ate it, and it actually tasted very good.

Gwenny sipped from her own goblet and nipped from her own cookie. The thought of her being gently kicked in the rear, or spanked, and her private tastes checked out made Umlaut almost lose his concentration. “I think we have much in common,” she said, recrossing her legs. Umlaut almost choked on his mouthful; they were extremely nice legs.

He realized belatedly that she was expecting a response, but he had no idea what to say. “Uh, maybe if you read the letter, you could decide whether Nada Naga should see it.” He leaned down to get the letter from the bundle and inadvertently saw even more of her legs under her short black skirt. He barely got the letter and straightened up without freaking out. “Uh, here.” He held it toward her.

She leaned forward to take it. She was well below him in height, and her gown was not tight in front, so that he saw down inside it. This time he did freak out. He knew it because the next thing he was conscious of was her standing beside him, wiping his face with a cool cloth. “Are you all right, Umlaut? I'll never forgive myself if my food made you ill.”

“I uh, I'm all right,” he said. “I, that is—” What was he to say? He decided on the truth. “I am a bit, uh, naive about things. I, uh, saw something I shouldn't and freaked out.”

“Why, how utterly charming,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. There was a faint scent of roses about her. “You are just the way Metria said you would be.”

“Metria!” Here was more mischief. “What did she, uh, tell you?”

“Oh, must I give that away already? Very well. She said that you are actually a distant prince who is looking for an economic or defensive liaison with a goblin tribe. That you are traveling incognito in the company of two natives to conceal your identity, so that others won't judge you by your rank instead of yourself. She said you are rather young and shy, but very good-hearted.”

“But I'm just here to deliver a letter!”

“Yes, that is your pretext, so that you can travel around the country looking for a suitable princess or, in this case, chiefess.”

“Looking for a princess? Why?”

“Why, to marry, of course. To make the liaison.”

“To marry!” he said, shocked.

“Perhaps you are concerned because you are human and I am goblin. I assure you that there is no problem an accommodation spell can't handle.”

His mind was going numb, and it wasn't unduly sharp at the best of times. “A what spell?”

“Since you ask, I will invoke it.” She did something. Then she was his size. Or rather, he was her size, because the couch seemed twice as big and so did the rest of the chamber.

“I, uh, see,” he said, amazed.

“So if you would like to make that liaison with me, I am available. I must confess that since my closest friend Jenny Elf got married, I have felt somewhat out of sorts.”

“But, uh—” He ran out of words before getting fairly started.

“You are evidently not accustomed to this sort of interaction, being just barely below induction into the Adult Conspiracy. But you surely understand political expediency. I think a liaison with Goblin Mountain will be mutually beneficial, and I assure you that I can be as accommodating as the spell.”

How had he gotten into this? Oh, yes, Metria had set another trap for him. Now he understood why she had found a different errand for the cats: Claire would have fathomed the situation immediately and protected him from it. Now how was he going to get out of it? “I, uh—”

“But before we take it farther, I have a confession to make.” Gwenny made a pretty frown. “I have two physical imperfections.”

“You look perfect to me!” he blurted, blushing. Indeed, she was overwhelmingly perfect. It was hard to believe that a goblin female could be so different from a goblin male.

“First, my vision: I don't see well naturally. Fortunately the centaurs located a lens bush, and contact with the lenses corrects my vision. So that need be of no further concern, unless I should lose a lens. Second, I am slightly lame. I have grown out of it to a considerable extent, but I can't walk any significant distance without limping. It is something to do with my knee, I think.” She sat back down on the couch and lifted her knees, putting her feet on the seat.

“They are perfect knees,” Umlaut said sincerely.

“Thank you. But I was not referring to appearance but to function. One just doesn't flex quite right.” She demonstrated, lifting one foot. Umlaut suddenly saw well beyond her knees. Blackness blotted his vision.

He found himself lying on the couch. She was mopping his face again. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “I forgot how susceptible you are. It's much worse with humans than with goblin men, who are insatiably crude. I fear I inadvertently showed you my panties. I apologize profusely.”

So that was the blackness. It was the stiffest jolt he could remember. But he had to correct her misunderstanding. “I, uh—”

“But once you join the Conspiracy, you will gradually learn to handle panties, at least when they are familiar. Illicit glimpses will always retain their potency, of course. Meanwhile I hope a gourd apology will do.”

“No, I—” But he was too late. She kissed him on the mouth. It was not wine sweet so much as mind-blowingly pleasant, as was everything about her.

He must have faded out, because the scene shifted again. “So if you will forgive me for my eyes and knee,” she was saying, “I will do my best to satisfy you in every other way.”

He finally got it out. “It's a mistake. I'm not a prince. And I'm taken.”

She gazed quizzically at him. “But Metria said—”

“Metria's trying to stop me from delivering the letters. She's doing anything she can to mess me up. You can't believe her.”

“But in that case—”

“I'm not a prince. I'm just a dull, ordinary guy.”

“Are you sure?”

Umlaut discovered that he wasn't sure. “Actually I can't remember anything from before I started this mission, really. I don't know what I did before.”

“So you could be an anonymous prince.”

“I suppose. But I don't believe it. I really am ordinary. And I really am taken. I love Surprise Golem.”

“Rapunzel's daughter? I didn't realize that she was of age.”

“She's not. She's only fourteen. But I'll wait for her.”

“Of course,” Gwenny said faintly. “Youth must be served.”

“I sure didn't mean to mislead you.”

“You didn't, Umlaut. I think I misled myself. I should have questioned the demoness's words; she's an endless fount of mischief. Oh, this is so embarrassing!” Now she was blushing, her dark face turning bright red.