Currant Events (38 page)

 “A good time with maenads?”
Clio asked. “But their passion is blood.”

 “Not entirely. They are turned on
by threats to themselves as well as threats to others; that's why they get
along so well with the Python. I threaten them with cellulight until they
scream for mercy.” “With what?” Sherlock asked.

 “Cellulight. It's a plant that
grows near the Faun & Nymph Retreat. I imported some for my garden. It
lights up near the river, and it gets on the nymphs, making them fat. They hate
that. It turns out that the maenads are like nymphs in that respect. They'll do
anything to avoid a touch of cellulight. 'Anything?' I demand in a evil voice,
and I force them to pretend they like kissing and stork summoning. They say I
torture them almost as bad as the Python does. I take that as a rare
compliment. So it's okay, and I take good care of the garden.”

 Emell paused, his narration completed.
“Now what can I do for you?”

 “We need to enter this
garden,” Clio said.

 “That's okay, as long as you don't
do any harm. I can't let you hurt anything.”

 “We won't,” Clio promised, hoping
it was true. “What section do you want?”

 Clio answered based more on hope than
expectation. “The currant section.”

 “Ah, yes, that's a good one. This
way.”

 So the Currant was here! Her quest was
almost done-maybe. If so, it was ironic that it was so close to her home all
the time. She could have gone right to it, had she known.

 Emell showed them into the garden. It
was far more capacious than Clio had supposed. In fact a river ran through it.
“What river is this?”

 “The Currant River. It flows from
OgreChobee to the Brain Coral, and thence down to the Currant Sea.”
“I do not know of this sea.”

 “It is deep below ground, in a
vault. It is half filled with contemporary coins.”

 “Currency,” Sherlock murmured
appreciatively.

 “I thought we were out of the
comic strip.” “Comic strip,” Ciriana said. “Is Annie Mae
here?” Sigh. She shouldn't have mentioned it. “No, dear.” The
blue arrow pointed along the river, so they followed it. Here there were
currant berries. Clio stopped to pick one, and got a mild shock. She should
have known.

 “We have some really good
currants,” Emell said. “See those clusters? Those are highly charged
berry bombs. Throw a cluster at something and the berries all explode.”

 “Goody!” Ciriana said.
“I had a friend named Cherrie who could conjure cherries and make plosive
pies.”

 “Explosive,” Clio said. She
made a mental note to keep the child well away from cherry bombs and
pineapples.

 “The water here is very
good,” Emell said. “It's sham pain. That's like boot rear, only more
potent. When you drink it, it gives you an imaginary headache and brief loss of
memory.” “I want some!” Ciriana said. “Not at your
age,” Clio said firmly. “Awww.”

 “And here is the powerhouse,”
Emell said. “Where electric E's and L's are stored. Also M's, or as I
prefer to call them, Ems. Em Motive, Em Phasis, Em Pathic-many varieties. You
can also see the lightbulbs growing here. They like the currants.”

 “We have encountered bright
bulbs,” Clio said a bit tersely. “They glow when sprinkled,” he
continued blithely. “Their perfume makes folk light-headed. Related bulbs
are incande-scent and flora-scent.”

 “Thank you for that
information.” Clio ungritted her teeth and followed the blue arrow. It led
her to a rather anemic section of the garden. A single straggly plant grew
there.

 “That currant hasn't
prospered,” Emell said. “I have tried all manner of fertilizers, but
it just doesn't respond. I wish I knew what it needs.”

 Sherlock glanced at Clio. “I
wonder.”

 Could it be? She dug in her pockets for
the odd things she had been collecting. A piece of stinky fruit. A fragment of
a crushed hypno-gourd. A bit of volcanic tuff. A pebble from Demon Litho. She
set them down around the languishing plant.

 It perked up. She dipped some water
from the river and poured it carefully on the nearby ground. The liquid
crackled as it sank in, emitting a few little sparks. The plant improved
further. In fact it stood tall and flowered, then produced a single large
berry.

 The blue arrow pointed to the berry.
This was the Currant.

 She picked the red berry and put it in
her pocket. “Thank you,” she said to Emell.

 “Welcome. I'm glad to see that
straggling plant recover. Now it will produce more berries.”

 But not like this one, she suspected.

 They left the garden. “I think I
need to take the Currant to my history volume,” she said. “This may
finally signal the end of my quest.” She hesitated. “Do you wish to
come along?” “Sure,” Ciriana said.

 “We'll see the mission through to
the end,” Sherlock said. “We have to,” Drew said. “We
haven't saved your life yet.” Clio was gratified. “This way. I know a
good path up the mountain.” The dragons tried to fly ahead, but both of
them dropped to the ground. “Something's wrong!” Drusie cried.

 “Oh, I forgot,” Clio said.
“The Simurgh lives here, the oldest and wisest bird in the universe. She
enforces a no-fly zone around Mount Parnassus. No fly is affected, but nothing
bigger than an insect can fly. I'm sorry.” “We'll just have to make the
best of it,” Drew said bravely, accepting Clio's assistance to reach her
pocket, while Sherlock picked Drusie up similarly.

 She led the way. Several maenads spied
them and charged in, but desisted when they recognized Clio. Several did eye
Sherlock before going, however. That reminded Clio uncomfortably of what Emell
had said about liaisons with them. It seemed the wild women sometimes had more
on their minds than sheer mayhem. They could be extremely fetching, with their
phenomenal bare curves, if a person liked that type. Men generally did; it was
why the maenads were able to lure unwary men to their destruction. Did they
really consider stork summoning to be torture, or were they just saying that to
preserve their image?

 Then the giant Python slithered in, and
departed similarly. Clio needed no additional protection here on Mount
Parnassus; it was her home. But this time she noticed something disquieting:
the Python had eyed her in much the manner the maenads had eyed Sherlock. What
could that possibly mean?

 They came to her suite halfway up the
south peak. Ciriana was delighted; she was promptly bouncing on the bed.
Sherlock was more restrained, but he was clearly intrigued. Drew and Drusie
scrambled around exploring it.

 Clio went to her desk and brought out
the Currant Events volume. She opened it. And sighed.

 The pages remained obscure.

 “What do you see?” she asked,
showing it to Sherlock.

 He squinted at the text. “There
seems to be print there, but I can't quite make it out.”

 “That's my problem. Some
enchantment obscured the text of a volume I have obviously already written, so
that it can't be read. The Currant was supposed to fix it.”

 “I think you have to actually use
the Currant,” Sherlock said. “Merely possessing it isn't enough.”

 “How do I do that?”

 “My best guess is to squeeze it
into juice, and use that on the pages.”

 Clio got a bowl, then took the Currant
in both hands and squeezed. It was huge and soft, and quickly squished into
juice. Soon she had a fair quantity.

 She fetched a small brush and dipped it
in the juice. She painted it on part of the obscure text of a page. It made a
red smear, but did not clarify the words. So much for that.

 Sherlock spread his hands. “I
suppose I could try reversing it, but I fear that would merely ruin it for its
intended purpose. I am becoming wary of my own advice.”

 Ciriana tired of exploring the premises
with the dragons and came up. “Juice!” she exclaimed. “I want
some!”

 Clio shrugged and fetched a cup. She
poured a little red juice from the bowl, not wanting to risk all of it.
“This may be tart,” she said.

 The girl took the cup and gulped the
juice down. She made a face. “Not sweet enough.” She glanced at the
tome. “What are those words?” “There are no words,” Clio
said. “It's just a blur.” “No blur. I can't read them, but those
are words.” “She drank the juice,” Sherlock said. “She sees
the words.” “I'm supposed to drink it!” Clio said, a bulb
flashing. She lifted the bowl and sipped from its edge.

 The text clarified. She read the words
at the top of the last page. “Zyzzyva-Freshly zombied female fighter in
very good condition.” She looked up, puzzled. “I'm sure I wasn't
writing about her in this volume.” “May I have a sip of that
juice?” Sherlock asked. She handed him the bowl. He sipped, then looked at
the text. “That's the Good Magician's lost Book of Answers!”

 She looked again. So it was: Humfrey's
monstrous compendium of magical information, that he had spent a century or so
writing, and now used to answer querents' questions. She should have noticed
before that this book was much larger than her own. “How did that come to
be here?” “Some rogue demon must have played a prank and switched it
with your history volume.”

 “I'm sure that wasn't the case
when I was here before.” “It must have happened while you were out.
The prankster figured no one would notice.”

 “And no one did,” she agreed,
disgruntled. “What am I to do with this?”

 “If I am correct, and the volumes
have merely been exchanged, I should be able to reverse that exchange. Let me
see.” He touched the volume.

 It changed. She recognized her familiar
text. “That's mine!” “The real sappy romance?” Ciriana
asked.

 She saw Sherlock stifling a smile. Just
as well. “The Demoness Metria has her own way of seeing things.” She
turned to the first page. “Chapter 1: Clio. Clio was tidying up her
office, as she did every century or so even if it didn't really need it.”
She looked up. “This is definitely it. This is my adventure, my current
events.”

 “Currant events,” Sherlock
agreed.

 She turned to the last page, but it was
blank. The next to last page ended at “ 'Let me see.' He touched the
volume.” “It covers my life up to a few minutes ago,” she said.
“But it's unfinished.”

 “As is your life,” he agreed.
He looked at the last page. “I see it does have a message: 'Loose ends not
tied.' That seems to cover the situation.”

 “But I made it safely back here,
and now I can read the volume, not that I need to,” she said. “So my
adventure in Xanth is done, fortunately.”

 “What of the child?”

 Clio put her arm around Ciriana.
“She can stay here. I like her.”

 “Will she remain five forever? If
so, the Acquaintance Ship would have sufficed.”

 “She can wait until she grows up
before eating of the Tree of Life. Then she can remain her maidenly age
indefinitely.”

 “And the dragons?”

 “We don't want to stay here,”
Drew said, surprising them both. “We're dragons; we need to be out and
around, exploring, hunting prey, toasting the toes of bad folk.”

 “And we need to fly,” Drusie
said.

 “You are certainly free to
go,” Clio said, disappointed. “Though I must say I have enjoyed your
company.”

 “But have you saved her life
yet?” Sherlock asked.

 “No, and that bugs us,” Drew
said.

 “So we'll have to stick around a
little longer,” Drusie said.

 “But she faces no dangers, here in
her home,” Sherlock said.

 “And that really bugs us,”
Drew said. “We don't see any chance, here in this safe place.”

 “There's really no need,”
Clio said. “You have been extremely helpful throughout, and have surely
earned your freedom.”

 “It's not the same,” Drusie
said morosely.

 “And it would seem you don't need
me further, either,” Sherlock said.

 “But I thought you were going to
stay!” Clio protested. “I thought we had an understanding. That we
could be together. That we could marry.”

 “I believe we do. Can you say the
words?”

 She opened her mouth-and the words did
not come out. “Oh, Sherlock, you're worthy! You're a Magician, and you've
done so much for me, and I really would like to have your company. It gets so
dull here! But I can't quite say the words.”

 He nodded soberly. “That's not the
basis for marriage. Then I think the kindest thing to do is to consider the
adventure concluded. I will go my way. I do thank you for enabling me to
discover my full powers.”

 “Please, Sherlock! Don't leave me!
Give me more time. I do want to say the words. I just can't say them
insincerely. Maybe in time I'll be able to.”

 He considered. “I do love you, and
do not wish to hurt you. If my absence would cause you distress, I will remain
here. But for the moment I will take a walk around the premises.”