Esrever Doom (Xanth) (6 page)

“Hello?” he asked.

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.

“Hello,” he repeated. “I’m Kody Mundane, come to see the Good Magician. Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am? Philip who fills things up? Nora Nosnoora who stops anyone from snoring? Onomatopoeia, who makes the sounds she writes so others can hear them? I M Bigbucks, the man made of money?”

Kody refused to play this ludicrous guessing game. “None of the above, I’m sure. Is there a reason you intercepted me, you intriguing creature? If not, I think I had better be on my way before I lose it, in more than one sense.”

That evidently satisfied her. “I’m the Demoness Metria, here to stop you from getting in.”

“You’re a demon? You don’t look like one.”

“I don’t?” She frowned. Then little horns grew out of her head, and a tail grew out of her posterior. “How about now?”

“You
are
a demon!” he said. “You looked so—so fetchingly female I just didn’t believe it before.”

The horns and tail puffed into vapor, which drifted away. “A demoness can look like anything she wants two.”

“Two?” he asked.

“It’s a homophone.”

“What kind of phone?”

“It sounds the same but spells differently.”

“Ah. So you can look like—”

“Anything I want too,” she agreed.

He laughed. “Close enough. Is that speech impediment natural, or is it part of the Challenge?”

“Mixed. I got stepped on by a sphinx long ago and it affected my articulation. It also fragmented me into three parts. My other part D. Mentia is a little crazy, and Woe Betide is a child who must live by the Adult Conspiracy.”

“The what?”

“The Adult Conspiracy to Keep Interesting Things from Children. It frustrates the bleep out of them.”

“Oh, I see. We have something similar in Mundania.”

“You should. It’s a parody of Mundane attitudes, one of many.”

“That surely explains a lot of what I have been seeing here.”

“You called me fetchingly female. Not ugly.”

“You are definitely not ugly,” he said.

“Then what about the expletive?”

“The what?”

“Oath, swearing, whammy, nemesis, bane—”

“Curse?”

“Whatever.” Her decolletage descended and the hem of her skirt lifted to show enticing flesh at either end. “Don’t you suffer from it?”

“I don’t suffer from that particular reversal.” Indeed, it was difficult to keep his eyes from locking onto her exposure.

“What’s your secret?”

“It may be that because I am here only in my dream I am not affected the way you natives are.”

“You’re dreaming?”

“I seem to be.”

Her clothing shrank further. His eyeballs threatened to glaze over. “Well, I can fulfill your dream. Take off your trousers.”

He did not trust this. “Um, no thanks. Such a distraction would surely prevent me from reaching the interior of the castle.”

“Oh, bleep!” she swore. “You caught on.”

“If that’s all, I’ll proceed to the next Challenge.”

“Oh, no you don’t, dummy! This was just chitchat. I have not yet begun to Challenge you.” Her clothing faded out entirely. Her body was almost impossibly luscious. He was surprised by how seductive it was. “Last chance to have at me before this gets serious.”

“Sorry. I can’t forget that you’re a demoness rather than a real woman, appealing as you are. It could be dangerous to touch you.” He did not add that he wished he could risk touching her.

“Bleep!” This time the word appeared in a speech balloon, with smoke rising from it. Her clothing re-formed. “Very well then, idiot. Figure out the Challenge.”

“What Challenge?”

“The Challenge the Good Magician is making me perform, in return for the inconsequential minor little favor he did me,” she said crossly.

“What favor was that?”

“He Answered my Question.”

“Isn’t that what he normally does?”

“Yes. But it was such a stupidly simple obvious Answer that I shouldn’t even have had to Ask it. So now I’m serving for nothing, really.”

“I appreciate the frustration. I hope it’s not the same with me when I get my Answer.”

“It’s not the same. You’re here to save Xanth.”

“I’m here to see if I can reverse the spell that makes pretty girls ugly.”

“Same thing. If it’s not reversed, who will want to signal the stork?”

“Do what?”

“When folk want a baby, they signal the stork, and months later the stork brings it. No stork signaling, no babies. The population will crash.”

Oh. Storks were literal too. “So what was your Question?”

“It all started innocently enough. I was passing by this village, and there was this village lout, so naturally I flashed him with my panties. I mean, that’s what a girl does with a village lout; she flashes him and he freaks out and by the time he recovers she’s long gone and he is frustrated as bleep. More fun!”

“Let me be sure I understand. Just the sight of a girl’s panties freaks out a man? Puts him into some kind of stasis?”

“Exactly. It’s a great weapon in the battle of the gendarmes.”

“The what?”

“Police, officer, guard, grammatical, sexuality—”

“Genders?”

“Whatever! So there I was, doing what comes naturally, and this lout just stares and doesn’t freak. Can you imagine a worse disaster?”

“Well, considering that I am of the lout persuasion myself—”

“Never mind. It really beetled me.”

This time Kody refrained from asking for a clarification of the term; he already had a fair notion. “Understandable.”

“So I finally went to the Good Magician, and he told me that the girls had developed a panty shield that generates a local field that shrouds their panties and prevents louts from peeking at them. All they see is a fogged-out outline, a fuzzy blob. That’s no good for freaking.”

“No good,” Kody agreed. “They do that with Mundane TV when there is too much exposure.”

“Then one oaf got hold of a shield in a panty raid. At first he didn’t realize what it was, as it looks much like a panty. Now he’s using it to get into young women’s homes and steal more panties. They can’t freak him out. So my assignment is to recover that panty shield so it can’t do any more damage. Only problem is that I don’t know where it is. The villain strikes by night, and by the time I learn of a raid, he’s long gone. So I have to work here until I recover that shield.”

“That seems fair enough. But I find it hard to believe that the mere sight of a girl’s panties can freak a man out. I have never been freaked that way.”

“Oh? Look at this.” Metria turned and hoisted her short skirt.

Fingers snapped near his ear, and he came out of his reverie. The demoness was no longer standing in front of him, but beside him. “What happened?”

“You freaked out,” she said with satisfaction.

“But I was aware of nothing.”

“Here’s a repeat, in slow motion.” She stood before him and hooked her fingers into her hem, slowly lifting it. First her well-fleshed thighs showed, then the bottom line of her panty.

Kody’s breath quickened. His eyes locked in place, starting to glaze. “I … see … your … p-p-”

“Panty?” She lowered the hem a fraction so he could recover enough to speak clearly.

“P-p-point. I do freak out. But is it really the panty? You have a remarkable bottom.”

“It’s the panty. Here, I’ll show you.”

“Don’t do that!”

But her panty line had already dissipated into smoke. Now she hauled her skirt up to show her bare bottom.

Kody was impressed, but he didn’t freak out. She had a most evocative bottom, but he could look at it without his eyes glazing.

“So you see,” she concluded. “Panty magic.”

“Panty magic,” he agreed.

“All of which is beside the point. I wouldn’t waste time like this if I didn’t like flashing men. I won’t let you by until you figure out what I’m doing.” The mass of fur reappeared in her hands; it had faded out during their dialogue. She plucked at it with her fingers, and an awful screeching emerged.

“You’re torturing an animal.”

“Not exactly.” She plucked again, and the sour notes formed a crude melody.

“You seem to be playing what appears to be the corpse of a hairy little monster.”

“Not exactly,” she repeated.

“Actually it’s in the rough shape of a guitar. A guitar made of hair.”

“So?”

He got a notion. A little bulb actually flashed over his head. This was a pun. “A hair guitar!”

“An heir guitar,” she agreed. “Or an heir band.” The guitar shrank and changed to form a band around her head, holding in her lustrous hair. “Folk who expect to inherit like to play this instrument.” Written musical notes rose from the band and floated away.

Had he really gotten the pun? The spelling was starting to confuse him. How could he hear a sight pun? “Hair” and “heir” were not pronounced alike. “I’ll be moving on now.”

“The bleep you will,” she said. “You haven’t gotten it yet.” The hair guitar was back.

Kody sighed inwardly. He was afraid of that. What was he to make of this nonsense? “So you’re not exactly playing a hair guitar, or an heir guitar. But you are playing something.”

“Something,” she agreed.

Kody got a wicked idea. “A noted tool!”

“A noted what?”

“Notes on a puppet, supply, process, device—”

“A musical instrument?”

“Whatever,” he agreed crossly.

“Bleep.”

“And in your distraction you let the heir guitar fade out. Now you’re playing nothing.” Indeed, her hands were empty.

“Double bleep.”

“In fact what you’re playing is an air guitar.”

“Triple bleep!” she swore, and turned into smoke, which in turn drifted away.

He had finally gotten it. He took a step forward toward the next Challenge.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be abstracted?” a wisp of smoke inquired, forming into winsome curvature. “I’ll wear transparent panties so you can have the best of both views without quite freaking out.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to be distracted,” he said firmly, and moved on.

“Quadruple bleep!”

What bothered him was that he had actually been tempted. Once the Challenge had been passed, it was probably all right to dally with a sexy willing demoness, but such a prospect had never interested him before. What was there about this particular demoness that encouraged foolishness? Or was it simply that he was in a dream, and normal cautions did not apply here?

The next scene was of a small field with dry wheat growing, surrounded by green fir trees. A young woman with flame-red hair sat in a chair reading a book. Kody saw the title:
Fahrenheit 450.
“Is that number correct?”

“It is for me,” the woman said. “One degree more and the paper will burst into flame and I won’t be able to read it.”

And here where things tended to be literal, even a book title needed to be circumspect. “I see. I presume you represent the next Challenge.”

“Of course I do. I’m Burnice from Burnsville. I can set fire to anything I focus on.” She oriented on the wheat in front of her, and the dry stalks burst into flame.

“So I see. So I guess you won’t be flashing me with your panties.”

“You must have me confused with that floozy demoness next door.”

“Who you calling a floozy, hotbox?” a wisp of smoke demanded.

“Maybe I was,” Kody said quickly. “I’m new to this Challenge business.”

“It’s simple,” Burnice said. “You have to get through this field to the next setting. But I will burn any path you try to take. So you have to deal with me to get through.”

“I see. I don’t suppose I can sweet talk you into dousing your flame?”

“Hardly,” Burnice said, returning to her book.

“So you see, you might as well dally with me,” the smoke wisp said. “I can give you a hotter time than she can.”

“Get your smoky butt out of my scene!” Burnice snapped. She focused on the smoke, but nothing happened.

“You can’t set fire to smoke,” the demoness said smugly.

“But I can tell the Good Magician you’re interfering.”

“No need,” the smoke said, and faded out.

Kody would have been amused by the interaction if he had time for it. But right now he needed to get a handle on this second Challenge.

“There’s always a way, have you but the wit to find it,” a tiny wisp of smoke wisp-erd in his ear.

“Confound it, tart, begone!” Burnice yelled. “One more word and I’m reporting you!”

“Wordlessly gone,” the wisp said, fading.

“Sorry about that,” Kody said. “Maybe I encouraged her by talking with her.”

“Unlikely. Metria always pokes into things that aren’t her business. The only way to get rid of her is to ask her to do something useful.”

That might be useful information. The demoness had, however, done him a favor by advising him that there was always a way. What was a way to douse a fire, in a setting like this? Dip water from the adjacent moat? He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be that easy. For one thing he saw nothing to dip with. Still, there could be a bucket or something hidden under the water.

He stepped toward the moat. Immediately the grass before him burst into flame. He hastily retreated.

So much for that. Burnice had not needed to say a word.

Then she spoke. “What are you planning to ask the Good Magician?”

“I need to find a way to save Xanth from the reverse Curse.”

“And he’s making you go through the Challenges?”

“So it seems.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“He must have his reasons.”

“Actually the Curse hardly affects me, because I’m a plain girl, neither beautiful nor ugly.” She was speaking the truth; she was quite ordinary. “But I think it best that it be ended.”

“So do I, though it doesn’t affect me either.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.” Did this mean she would not try hard to stop him?

He stepped toward the far side of the setting. Fire formed before him. He retreated again. So much for Burnice not trying. She was still doing her job. He respected that.

He stood and looked around. The scene was unchanged except for the dying blazes. Burnice still sat in the middle, and the fir trees still lined the setting, forming a large U-shaped area with the moat across the U. There simply seemed to be nothing to douse a fire.