Faun and Games (27 page)

odor of indigestion issued from him.
 
"Help, I'm genuinely aging!" he

cried.

"That's because you ate the mint," Cathryn informed him.
 
"Now you will

age rapidly into stinking extinction, unless you do whatever the

Man-Age-Mint plant demands."

"What does it demand?" the bean counter asked.

"Count its mints," she said.

" But I'm a bean counter.
 
I don't count mints."

"Too bad.
 
I hope you fade out before your odor of spoiled beans

permeates the entire neighborhood."

"I suppose I could count some mints," he said dolefully.
 
"One, two,

buckle my shoe; three, four.
 
.
 
."

Then, while the counter was distracted, they squeezed by it and out to

decent terrain.
 
They had gotten back through the comic strip without

quite going crazy.

"Some day I'm going to gather a posse and stamp out every pun in

existence," Cathryn muttered.

They went to the section where they had first met the centaur.
 
It was

interesting to see her age as she walked, progressing from foal to

gangly juvenile to early filly and finally to fully flushed young

female.
 
Her mass changed, but didn't seem to affect her directly; she

evidently didn't have to eat to add weight, any more than she had had to

eliminate to lose it.
 
He knew that he and Imbri were aging the same

amount in years, but it didn't make as much difference to them.

Then Cathryn stopped.
 
"Are we ready for the next adventure?"

she inquired.
 
When there was no objection, she lifted the dear horn and

blew on it.

There was no sound.
 
Yet the centaur stood as if enraptured.

"Marvelous!" she breathed.

"But it didn't work," Forrest protested.

She didn't even waste a glance on him.
 
"You forget that only the one

who blows it can hear it.
 
The echo is from that direction." She pointed

due east.

They set off east.
 
That was a relief, because it was open range and

ordinary trees as far as the eye could see; no pun strip to struggle

through.

But Cathryn was getting young again.
 
That was mischief of another

nature.
 
Suppose her True Love were beyond her range?
 
That would make

him truly inaccessible.

And that was what happened.
 
The centaur grew smaller than either of

them, and had to pause.
 
"This is near the limit of my range," she said.

"I can go farther, but I won't be able to talk, because I didn't learn

until I was two.
 
You will have to go on without me."

"But we can't hear the echo," Forrest protested.

"You won't have to.
 
Just continue in a straight line, and you will

encounter him.
 
He hasn't moved in some time, so he may be sleeping.

Bring him here, and your service will be complete.
 
I'll wait."

Forrest exchanged a look with Imbri, but since it was the same look,

neither gained anything from it.
 
So they walked forward, following the

direction.

" Suppose the limit of his range is beyond hers?" Forrest asked Imbri

when they were beyond the hearing of the centaur.
 
"So that they can

never meet?"

"I don't think the dear horn works that way," she said.
 
"The ideal

'True Love has to be one you can be with.
 
I hope."

He hoped that was true.
 
But things were so odd here on Ptero that he

lacked confidence.

They saw an odd region to the south.
 
It was somewhat foggy, but they

could see a number of figures standing there, like statues.
 
"Do you

suppose her True Love could be there?" Imbri asked.

"It's not the right direction.
 
But we could ask." He used a hoof to

mark a line pointing the right direction, so they could resume travel

without going astray, then walked south.
 
They entered the fog somewhat

warily, but it seemed to be harmless.

Forrest approached a glowing young woman.
 
"May we talk to you?" he

asked her.

"Sure," she replied.
 
"That's what we're here for."

"All the people are here to be talked to?" Imbri asked.

"Yes.
 
This is a section of limbo.
 
We are the characters who aren't

even might-he's.
 
I'm Astride"

"But what kind of existence do you have, then?"

"A very feeble kind," the woman said sadly.
 
"We all long to achieve

regular might-be status, but we can't until someone takes an interest in

us and recognizes our talents."

Imbri exchanged half a look with Forrest.
 
Characters who weren't even

might-he's?

"If we talk to you and identify your talent, will you become a

might-be?" Forrest asked.

"Yes!
 
Please do that.
 
I would do anything to become might-bereal.
 
Do

you need a girlfriend?
 
I'm rather metallic, but I can be very soft when

I want to be, in the manner of my mother's side of the family."

"I don't need a girlfriend.
 
I'm a faun.
 
I just chase nymphs.
 
No

relationships last longer than a day, and most are merely minutes.
 
But

I'll be glad to help you.
 
How do I recognize your talent?"

"You just talk with me and ask me questions until you are able to figure

it out.
 
I can't tell you, because I don't know it, but I can tell you

anything else about me."

"How can you know about yourself, if you aren't yet real, or even

theoretical?"

"Well, I haven't done anything, of course, because limbo is the place of

nothing doing.
 
But every person has an origin, so I have a family

history.
 
I can't tell you that on my own, but will do so if you ask."

That seemed straightforward, or at least not too far angled.
 
"Who is

your father?"

"Esk Ogre.
 
His father is Smash Ogre, and his mother is Tandy Nymph."

"Oh, you have some nymphly ancestry," Forrest said, becoming more

interested.

"Yes.
 
About a quarter.
 
So I'm sure I could run and scream in the

nymphly way, and do what nymphs do, if you are interested."

Forrest was interested.
 
"Can you kick your feet cutely, and fling your

hair about?" For these were specialties of nymphs, and such actions

really delighted fauns.

"I'm sure I can.
 
How's this?" She flung her hair so violently that her

feet left the ground, and she kicked her bare legs in a fetching manner.

"Well, perhaps-" But then he saw Imbri frowning, and realized that he

was drifting from business.
 
He was just trying to find out about this

region, in case it held a clue to the whereabouts of Cathryn's True

Love.
 
"Who is your mother?"

"Bria Brassie.
 
That's where I inherit my metallic nature from. She's

made wholly of brass, but I'm only half brass.
 
So I can become halfway

hard, but that's not my talent.
 
I'm also fairly strong, from my ogre

heritage, and not too bright."

Something connected.
 
A bulb flashed over Forrest's head, exactly as in

Xanth proper.
 
"I think you're mistaken, Astrid.
 
You are bright. Your

talent must be shining."

"Oh!" she cried, suddenly glowing more brightly.
 
"Yes that's it!

I know it now.
 
Oh, thank you, faun." She grabbed him and kissed him,

and she was right: she was surprisingly soft beneath her coppery sheen.

"I'm halfway real now!"

"You're welcome," Forrest said.

"Oh, I think I'll kiss you again, and maybe even-"

"There is no need," Imbri said quickly.

Actually Forrest wouldn't have minded, as he hadn't celebrated with a

nymph since his arrival oil Ptero.
 
But of course Imbri was right: they

had to get on with their business.

So Astrid ran off to find her proper territory.
 
Forrest and Imbri

returned to the line he had drawn in the dirt, to resume their quest, as

there didn't seem to be much help in limbo.
 
How could the folk there

know about Cathryn's True Love, when they had no experience as

might-he's?

Before long they came to a small forest of normal pines.
 
It would have

been better to avoid them, but then they would have lost their

direction, so they went straight.
 
Tears ran down their cheeks as they

brushed by the trunks of the sad trees.
 
Then they entered a gladeand

there was a juvenile centaur.

"Young," Imbri whispered.
 
"Maybe eight years old.
 
So he can go forward

and overlap Cathryn's range.
 
Eight years isn't too much of an age

difference."

"Yes.
 
The dear horn knew what it was doing." But then he had a bad

thought.
 
"If this is the one."

"It has to be.
 
We wouldn't have encountered him otherwise. There's

always reason for folk to meet, in Ptero."

That did seem to be the case.
 
So they approached the centaur.
 
He was

standing within a circle of fourteen crosses set upright on the ground.

He looked out at them.
 
"Hey, want to play crosses?" he asked.