Yon Ill Wind (5 page)

“We shall be glad to ferry you across.  We can have a craft ready by noon.”

“But the winds remain so high,” Mom said, worried again.  “It wouldn't be safe.”

“We can handle it,” Carleton said in the same tone he had used when assuring Karen about riding.

Mom looked dubious, but didn't argue.  So the centaur trotted off, leaving them to make ready for the trip.

Dad shook his head.  “I find today hard to believe,” he said.  “But I'll feel better when we get on that highway.”

The others agreed.  The centaurs seemed nice, but this whole business was pretty weird.  Karen was looking forward to getting home and telling all her skeptical friends about where they'd been.  Nobody would ever believe her, that was the fun of it.

Promptly at noon, a big raft poled into view, with four muscular centaurs at its corners.  At the same time, Carleton and Sheila Centaur galloped up from the village.  Again the boys' eyes threatened to pop at the sight of the filly's front, and even Dad's eyes might have strained a little.

Mom's mouth tightened ever so slightly:  not the best sign.

Karen was good at reading small signals; it kept her from getting into as much trouble as she deserved.  So she didn't giggle, quite.

“I thought you would appreciate something to eat on the way,” Sheila said, presenting them with a big bag marked GOODIES.  “More milk pods, honey buns, nuts and bolts—”

“Bolts?” David asked.

She brought out what did indeed look like a bolt and gave it to him.  He sniffed it, then bit off the end.  It seemed to be similar to a nut.  “Chocolate flavored!” he said.

“I could get to like this filly,” Sean murmured, though his eyes weren't on the bolt.  Sheila tossed back her lovely brown tress/mane and smiled at him, not at all selfconscious.

The raft nudged in to the shore.  “Now, if you will have your house creature get on, we shall take it across to the mainland,” Carleton said.  “I have communicated with the Good Magician, who says he will send you a guide.  She will arrive in late afternoon with her companion; Sheila will introduce you before she returns here.”

“Sheila's crossing with us?” Sean-asked, his eyeballs threatening to go into orbit.

“We would not want it claimed that we of the Isle were inhospitable to those who found themselves here through no fault of their own,” Carleton said.  “Normally we discourage unauthorized visits, but we do allow for special circumstances.  We are doing what we can to see you safely on your way.  The Good Magician is competent, and you should be able to progress with the help of his guide.”

 “Uh, thank you,” Dad said.  “We appreciate your hospitality and assistance.  Perhaps we shall meet again.”

“This is doubtful.” Carleton nodded, then turned tail and trotted off.  Dad went to the RV.

“He is a bit saddened by the loss of his little sister,” Sheila confided.  “If you should happen to encounter her, I'm sure he would appreciate news of her current state.”

“Why was she exiled?” Karen asked.

Sheila's mouth tightened.  “She was found to have a magic talent.  She was a good person, but that is simply not allowed among centaurs of the Isle.  We consider it obscene.”

“I guess you don't want to know what we consider obscene,” David said brightly.

“If you are typical of your species, you consider your natural body and its natural functions, other than eating, to be obscene,” she replied evenly.  “Therefore you cover your body with clothing, evidently ashamed of it, and pretend that you have no natural functions, especially not defecation or reproductive capacity.”

Karen looked at David.  “Well, I guess she flushed your toilet,” she said, drawing on an old saying she had researched from a book of dated vernacular.

“I guess she did,” David agreed, bemused.  “I think I like the centaur way better.”

“Me too,” Karen agreed.

Mom and Sean exchanged a Significant Glance.  Karen made a mental note:  Sean was getting to be too much like an adult.

The RV started up and moved slowly toward the raft.  It nudged onto the planking, fitting comfortably.  Then David and Karen ran to put the blocks at the wheels so it couldn't roll off even if the brakes didn't hold.

When they were all safely aboard, the centaurs shoved off.  Then they unfurled a sail and tied it firmly in place.

The winds remained quite stiff, so this gave the raft plenty of push.  It moved obliquely against the wind, tacking.  The muscular centaurs clearly knew what they were doing.

Each had his station, whether at sail, tiller, pole, or guard, and was intent on his business.

“This is a good time to eat,” Sheila said.  “It will take a while to cross the channel, and thereafter you may be distracted by the things of the mainland.”

Mom recovered some of her normal aplomb.  “Will you join us in the meal, Sheila?”

“Of course,” the centaur said.  “Let me set up toad stools for you.” She went to a box at one side and brought forth stools that were indeed shaped like toads, and when they sat on them, the stools made “Ribbit!” croaking sounds.

“Now, that's interesting,” Dad remarked.  “Where we come from, toads are silent; only frogs croak.”

“Mundania is surely a curious place,” Sheila said politely.  “Our toads accept no such constraints.”

They ate their interesting meal as the raft forged across the channel to the mainland.  The shoreline seemed to be solid jungle with strange-looking trees, but there was a golden beach.  “The Gold Coast,” Sheila explained.  In due course they came aground, and Dad drove the RV onto land.

“I will show you to the landing site,” Sheila said.  “It should not be long now before your guide arrives.  Can your moving house travel at trotting velocity?”

“If it has firm, level terrain,” Dad said.  “This beach seems suitable.”

“It is at the edge of the Gold Coast,” the centaur said.

“Thereafter you will use the trollway, which is certainly firm.  I shall run ahead, and you may follow at such speed as your house can manage.”

They piled into the RV, and Dad started the engine.  He turned west to follow Sheila.  The kids all looked out the windshield to see how it went.

At first the centaur walked.  As they caught up to her, she trotted.  Then, as the RV caught up again, she broke into a gallop, her hair/mane flying back.  “I wish I could see her from the front,” Sean murmured.

 “You have seen more than enough of her already,”

Mom replied primly.

They got going at about twenty-five miles an hour, which seemed to be the centaur's cruising speed.  Soon they came to what looked like nothing so much as a giant pillow sitting on the sand.  Here Sheila stopped, so they did too.

“My, your house does move well,” the centaur said.

She was breathing hard, which surely provided Sean with all the view he could have desired.  “I am beginning to suspect that Mundania is not as dreary a region as reputed.”

“It does have its points,” Dad said.

Sheila looked at her wrist watch, which turned out to be two eyes painted on her wrist.  They winked at her in what must have been a meaningful pattern.  “Your guide should arrive soon,” she said.

They settled down to wait for the arrival of the guide.

Chlorine was enjoying herself.  It was fun being beautiful and smart, in the company of a handsome and smart (but mute) man.  But her enjoyment was fading.  There was no one to see her in her lovely brilliance, and Nimby was more apparent than real.  That was to say, he had the appearance but not the reality of a princely man.

And he was the cause of her good fortune.  So he didn't really count.  She needed to be among real people, whose admiration and envy meant something.  But she couldn't go to her home village, where someone might possibly recognize her and know her present beauty for a fraud, and she didn't know enough about any other village to go there.  So how was she to find a suitable place to show off to real people?  She put her fine new mind to work on the problem.

Then a bright bulb flashed above her head.  She would go to the Good Magician with a Question!  That was a legitimate activity, and of course, she would have to do a year's Service for him, and in all that time she would be able to show off legitimately.  She might even accomplish something useful, assuming the Service was of a useful kind, and the new niceness in her appreciated that.

But she needed a Question.  What would be legitimate?

What did she really want to know?

After a moment the bulb flashed again.  How she loved this good mind, which performed so much better than her old one had; when she posed a question for it, it took hold with the power of twenty centaurs.  She would ask where her lost final tear was.  She had wondered about that for years, and now she could finally find out.

“Nimby,” she announced, “we are going to the Good Magician's castle to ask him a Question.”

Nimby looked at her doubtfully.  He seemed a bit alarmed.  Maybe he thought the Good Magician Humfrey wouldn't like him.

“Not to worry,” she said reassuringly.  “I'll tell him how nice you have been to me, though you're really just a donkey-headed dragon.  I'm sure he'll understand.”

Nimby did not seem entirely reassured, but she was sure he would relax when he saw that it was all right.  The Good Magician knew everything, so he would know that Nimby was nice, and if he had any doubt, he could simply look him up in his Big Book of Answers and immediately learn everything about the mute dragon.  So there was no call to be concerned on that score.

But there was one small immediate problem:  she didn't know the way to the Good Magician's castle.  She lived in the northeast section of Xanth, and the Good Magician was somewhere in the center of Xanth.  It was surely a long and difficult route there.

But maybe Nimby could help.  “Nimby, I want to reach the Good Magician's castle swiftly and safely and comfortably.  Do you know a way?”

Nimby nodded yes.

“Then show me that way.”

Nimby set off at a swift walk toward a neighboring village.  He soon found a clear path, and in three moments and an instant or two they were at the village limit.  She knew because there was a sign saying JACKS ON VILLE.  Oh, yes, she remembered now; every person in this village was named Jack or Jackie, and they all worked to harvest assorted jacks.  Little jacks were six-pointed twists of wire that children could play with, while big jacks were solid metal twists used to lift heavy things.  So it was a thriving community.

Nimby led her to a metal box beside the sign.  This was labeled PHONE JACK, and there was a little plug dangling on a wire by it.  So she lifted the wire and plugged its end into a hole in the box.  A slot opened, and a voice brayed:

“Whatcha want.  Jackass?”

“I'm not the jackass,” Chlorine said, realizing that it had mistaken her for her companion.  “I'm just looking for a quick way to the Good Magician's Castle.”

“Well, pony up some jack, then,” the voice said.

Chlorine looked around.  There was a pile of lettuce leaves nearby.  Her bright mind realized that a pony should like that, so she picked up a leaf and wedged it into the slot.

“Not enough,” the voice said.  “We're jacking up the price.”

So she jammed in more lettuce.  “This guy's a knave,” she muttered to Nimby.

“Right—the Jack of diamonds,” the voice retorted.

“Now I'll run up the Union Jack to signal a crackerjack cab.  You have some applejack while you wait.”

So they sat at the nearby table, where there was a jug of cider, and drank cups of it while waiting.  It had a tangy taste, and was very good.  Soon Chlorine's head was spinning pleasantly.

A burly man appeared on the path.  He had a big doublebitted axe slung over his shoulder.

“Are you the cab?” Chlorine inquired, admiring his muscles.

“I'm no cad,” the man protested.  “I'm just a passing lumberjack.” He glanced at the jug.  “But you'd be best off, miss, to ease off on that applejack before your head spins off.”

Chlorine put her hands up to stop her head from completing another revolution.  It did make her feel less dizzy.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, lovely lass.” The man ambled on.

Chlorine flushed with pleasure at his compliment.  Then she remembered that she really was lovely, now, so the compliment was well deserved.  Still, it was a pleasure she was not well accustomed to, so she knew she would continue to enjoy it.

In due course a cloud of dust zoomed up and abruptly stopped.  On its side was printed SPEED DEMON CAB.  A door opened in its side.

Chlorine didn't quite trust this.  She looked at Nimby.

Nimby got up and climbed into the cab.  So she followed.

It had a plush seat in the back, wide enough for the two of them.

The door slammed closed.  The cab leaped into motion with a loud squeal.  Suddenly they were zooming at frightening speed along the path; the tree trunks were passing at a blurring rate.  “Are you sure—?” Chlorine asked Nimby.

Nimby nodded yes.  So she relaxed.  There was another seat ahead of them, and beyond that a transparent pane, and beyond that the onrushing forest.  They were going somewhere very fast.

She saw a sign in the front.  It said “YOUR DRIVER:  Demon Strator.  Unsafe, unreliable, discourteous.”

For some reason, that caused her to be worried again.

“Nimby, that sign—”

Then a creature appeared on the front seat.  It had horns, so did seem to be a demon.  “That's just to scare away low tippers,” Strator said.  “You paid plenty of jack in advance, so you have nothing much to fear.  Unless I lose control.” The cab swerved perilously close to a tree.

“Oh.” Chlorine pondered.  “What is a tip?”

“From you, I will accept a kiss, you luscious creature.”

She glanced again at Nimby, who nodded, so she leaned forward and kissed the demon on his right ear.

The cab zoomed into the air, looped, and landed again at speed.  “Hoo!” Strator said.  “That's one potent kiss!”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing.  It was fun, because she had seldom had cause to blush before.

The cab zoomed on until it came to a squealing halt at the very brink of an awesomely deep crevasse.  “Transfer,” Strator announced.  “The Gap Chasm is beyond my range.”

“Thank you,” Chlorine said, climbing out of the cab.

“I think you're a nice speed demon.”

This time it was the demon who blushed.  He turned a rich royal purple, and steam rose from him.  “Gotta go now,” he muttered, and the cab spun about and zoomed back northeast.

It was now dusk, so the speedy ride had taken at least some time.  A large dark shape swooped out of the deep shadow of the Gap and landed before them.  It seemed to be a bird almost as big as a roc, completely black.  It clutched a small basket in its talons, and on the basket was a tag:  FLY BY NIGHT.

Chlorine nodded.  That surely meant that this bird flew only by night, so their timing was right.

Nimby climbed into the basket, which turned out to be much larger than it had first appeared; the bird's size had dwarfed it.  Chlorine joined him.  Then the bird spread its wings and hopped over the brink, into the chasm.

Chlorine's gizzard surged up to her throat as the basket dropped, not realizing that the rest of her was falling.  Then the wings caught the dark air, and things settled into place.

They sailed not across, but along inside the chasm, remaining in its pooled darkness while the last of daylight touched its rims and the clouds floating above it.  Chlorine peered down, hoping to catch a glimpse of the notorious Gap Dragon, but all she saw was palpable blackness.  Since she didn't feel like palpating it, she tried to ignore it.  Then, as the darkness rose beyond the Gap and spread across the terrain of Xanth proper, the bird lifted out and flew low over the jungle.  Chlorine saw the lights of little fires below, where the folk of Xanth had their hearths, or maybe those were dragons pumping up their bellies for nocturnal hunting.  It was all rather pretty.

The lights of a castle came into sight, showing its walls and turrets.  That wasn't pretty, it was perfectly beautiful!

Chlorine stared in rapt wonder, wishing she could visit a castle like that.  It must be so great to live in such an edifice, to be a Princess, or even a serving maid.  She just felt such longing for the kind of life she would never have.

She might be beautiful now, but when she stopped keeping company with Nimby she would revert to her normal, dreary self, and her dream of the, moment would be over.

She would have shed a tear for her lost dream, if she only knew where her last tear was.

But of course, that was why she was going to see the Good Magician.  So she laughed, instead, but there was a deep tinge of regret in it.

Then the bird flew right up to that beautiful castle, and landed outside its moat.  This was her destination!

Nimby climbed out of the basket, and she followed.

Then the fly-by-night bird departed, swiftly and silently.

They were alone in the night beside the glorious lighted castle.

Chlorine was sure she knew better than to try to pass the challenges and enter the castle at night.  She would wait until morning.  That would give her the chance to get some sleep, too.

Then her bright though sleepy mind thought of something.  “Nimby—do you need to sleep?”

The handsome man-form shook his head no.

“So it won't be an imposition for you to stay awake and guard me from possible harm?  I mean, I think you're a great creature, but I don't want to wear you out before your time.” She laughed ruefully.  “In my natural self I wouldn't have thought to ask that, because I wouldn't have cared.  But I'm nice now, so I do care.  And it's practical too, because you're all that makes me so wonderful.  So it's okay?”

Nimby nodded yes.

“Okay.  You keep watch, and wake me one instant before dawn, so I can see the sunrise.  I'm sure I'll appreciate its beauty much more than I used to.” She started to gather some leaves to make a bed, then had another thought.

“Would it bother you to revert to your natural form, so I could use you as a pillow?  Don't hesitate to say no, because—“ Nimby's donkey-headed dragon form was back.  He lay on the ground, and she lay down and put her head against his side.  It had scales, but now the scales were soft.

“You know, you do look funny,” she remarked.  “But the more things you do for me, the more I like you, even as you are now.  I hope that doesn't embarrass you.”

Nimby wiggled an ear, seeming pleased rather than embarrassed.  Chlorine stretched, snuggled down, and faded quickly into sleep.

She woke as something tickled her nose.  “Who?  What?” she asked, surprised.  Then she realized that it was one of Nimby's ears touching her.  She had told him to wake her an instant before dawn, and he had done it.  “Thanks,” she said.

An instant passed, and dawn-appeared.  Colored rays of light speared up into the sky, brightening it.  Nearby clouds glowed.  Then, when it was safely light, the sun poked its face up from behind the trees.  The sun never came out at night, because it was afraid of the dark.

“Oh, it's beautiful, just as I knew it would be!” Chlorine exclaimed.  “Thank you.  Nimby, for waking me in time.” She rubbed his donkey ears affectionately.

She got up and considered.  “You fetch us something good to eat, while I attend to my morning ablutions,” she said.

Nimby trundled off, and she found a bush for some business, then brought out her brush and went over her hair.

It was now gloriously luxuriant, glistening in the brightening light of day.  It was still greenish yellow, but now the green was the luster of healthy plants, and the yellow was the burnish of gold.  She gazed into a puddle, and saw her reflection:  she resembled a princess just awakening from beauteous slumber.  It was really too bad this adventure would have to end sometime.

She returned to where they had slept, and saw Nimby approaching with a mouthful of fresh chocolate and vanilla pies.  He must have found a good pie tree.  His mouth in this form was quite large, so there was a good collection of large pies, and none of them was damaged.

Then she had a second thought.  “Will I get fat, eating such stuff?”

Nimby shook his head no.  He ought to know, as he was the one who had transformed her.  So Chlorine dived in with gusto.  The dragon watched, seeming pleased.

Until her third thought.  “Aren't you hungry.  Nimby? You should have some pie too.”

Nimby hesitated, then nodded yes.  But still he looked at the pies somewhat doubtfully.

“Oh, in your natural form you could gobble them all up, and leave no more for me?  Then change into your handsome man-form, and you won't need as much.”

The dragon disappeared, and the handsome man appeared.  Nimby man took a pie and began to eat.  He seemed to like it well enough.

Chlorine's fourth thought caught up with her.  “Biting bugs!  They must be all over, in the night—but I wasn't bitten.  Were you protecting me from that harm too?”

Nimby nodded.

“I don't know what I'll do without you, when this ends,” she said.  “I'm really getting to like this adventure, and we haven't even done anything significant or naughty yet.” She eyed the man, but decided that naughtiness could wait; she had three challenges to pass to get into the castle.