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Authors: Piers Anthony

Tags: #Humor, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Young Adult

Harpy Thyme (6 page)

BOOK: Harpy Thyme
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“I'd certainly like to shape them up!” Nator said.

Trent gestured. Nator became a creature vaguely resembling a cross between a peanut and a pink jellybean with multiple legs and long antennae. The antennae quivered. Then the goober ran away.

“Wait!” Sherlock called. “We don't know whether you like it yet.”

But then they saw a green jellybean emerge from the jungle to meet the pink one, and a purple one arriving from another direction.

“They are very quick to locate each other,” Trent said. “I'm ”sure Nator will be all right. They are highly social creatures."

“And they won't mind his being natorial?”

“They should love it. He'll be goober natorial.”

A young black woman arrived with an armful of fresh pies. “I hope these are all right,” she said. “They are black berry, which is our favorite, and green berry, purple berry, gray berry, and blue berry. And one goose berry. Be careful of that one; it's very fresh.”

“Those are fine,” Trent said. “Fair exchange. Thank you.” They took the pies. Gloha got the goose berry. It honked as she took a bite, but she avoided its other effect by flying up. Geese were flying creatures, and their food tended to make others try to fly, except those who were already doing so. So the pie's freshness didn't bother her; she knew how to handle it.

They bid parting to Sherlock and the young woman, and Swiftmud resumed sliding. A number of the black folk had come out during the dialogue and exchange, and were looking curiously at the mud. Gloha didn't blame them; it was a most curious creature.

“We shall have to tell Dor about this new village,” Trent remarked. “It does seem like a nice place to visit.”

“This region has been cleaned up,” Bink remarked. “It used to be primitive country, but now it is parklike.”

“That must be the work of the Black Villagers,” Chameleon said. “Now I remember: I did hear something about a Black Wave that arrived from Mundania, but I never heard where they settled. Now we know.”

As they ate their pies, Swiftmud slid out across the surface of the lake, having no more trouble with it than with the vertical walls of the fault. Soon they were surrounded by flat water. Gloha was impressed, because she had never seen so much water in one place. Not when she was actually on it.

This was an interesting journey. But was it getting her any closer to the achievement of her desire? She still had no idea how to find the man of whatever dreams she might want to have, assuming he existed. If only the Good Magician had Answered her Question, instead of dismissing her without even listening. Instead of sending her on this wild goose pie chase for his second son, who might not exist either.

Xanth 17 - Harpy Thyme
Chapter 3: RECONCILIATIONS

They had hardly finished their pies before they reached the dome-city of the Curse Friends. Sherlock, curiously, had called them “Curse Friends”; maybe he had misspoken. Actually the city didn't show on the surface; there was only a whirlpool there. A big one.

Swiftmud floated right toward it. “We aren't going into that, are we?” Gloha asked with a feeble little fright.

“Oh, that's right, you haven't been here before,” Tandy said. “This is the way to the underworld. One of the ways, anyway, but goblins lurk along the others. Don't be concerned.”

Gloha tried her best to be unconcerned as Swiftmud got caught by the vortex and floated around it in a diminishing spiral. The central hole loomed up hugely. Then they tilted into it and whirled around and around, going down.

After that it was a blur. Gloha squeezed her expressive little eyes tight-shut closed.

There was a bump and splash, and the awful spinning stopped. Gloha's eyes peeked open just a tiny slit.

They were in a dark cavern, floating on a somber lake. Gloha pried loose her jammed little jaw. “What happened?” she asked doubtfully.

“We landed at the bottom of the vortex,” Tandy answered. “From here it's mostly smooth sailing to my mother's apartment.”

That was a relief. If Gloha had had any idea what this trip would be like, she would have hesitated to make it. But no one else seemed concerned, so she crammed her startled little stomach back into place and pretended to be satisfied.

After a somewhat timeless time, because there was no sun here to mark it, just a faint glow in the water and on the stone walls, they came to a landing. An unusual woman came out from a doorway. She wore a gown set with so many bright gems that it made the whole region three and a half times as bright. “Oh, you're here!” she exclaimed. “But who is this?”

“Mother, this is Gloha, who has come to see Crombie,” Tandy said. “Gloha, this is Jewel the Nymph.”

Indeed she looked like a nymph, being of exquisitely crafted figure. Except for one thing: she was old. Gloha had never heard of an old nymph.

“Jewel was timeless until she loved and married Crombie,” Bink reminded her. There was a certain diffidence about the way he related to the nymph that Gloha would have found perplexing if she had thought of it, but at the moment she was meeting too many people to have time for extra thoughts. About the only one who was really clear in her mind was Magician Trent, because she remembered him best from her history lessons. “Then she began aging from her apparent age of twenty, just as mortals do. We still call her Jewel the Nymph, but she's really no longer a nymph, and she will join our fade-out party.”

Oh. That did not seem horribly clear, but Gloha was in no mental shape to be confused, so she just smiled and accepted things as they seemed to be. Though she was halfway sure that things weren't exactly as they seemed to be. What was there about Bink's attitude toward Jewel that bothered her? Jewel was Tandy's mother; that was enough.

“You are barely in time,” Jewel said. “Crombie has almost faded.”

“We were delayed while traveling,” Iris said somewhat sourly. Gloha felt guilty again, remembering that the last delay had happened when Bink tried to tell her about his talent. The fault had shown up right then, without warning. Of course that couldn't have been her fault, yet somehow it seemed so.

“Gloha must talk to my father before he fades any further,” Tandy said. “She is still young; most of her life is ahead of her.”

“How nice,” Jewel said. She led the way to a bedroom chamber.

There, amidst piled blankets and cushions, was a horribly wizened ancient old man. Gloha wasn't sure just what fading out entailed, but if this was it, she didn't much like it. Crombie seemed to be on the far side of sleep, lying on his back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling without focusing. She remembered how Wira's eyes had never quite focused on things; his were somewhat like that.

But she had to talk to him, and hope he could help her. “Sir Mister Crombie, the Good Magician Humfrey told me to talk to his second son, but I don't know where he is or even who he is, and my Aunt Goldy thought maybe Smash Ogre would know, but he was out and Tandy thought maybe you would know or at least be able to point the direction.” Then she took a breath.

The decrepit figure stirred, weakly. The withered old mouth opened. “Can't,” he breathed.

Gloha didn't know what to say. This had become her almost only hope, and now it was dashed. So she burst into tears.

The figure stirred again. “Ask-else,” it breathed.

A thought found its way through her misery. Ask something else? If he could point out anything-or almost anything-why not ask him where her ideal man was? If he could point the way to that one, she wouldn't need to talk to Humfrey's second son anyway.

“Where is my ideal man?” she asked.

One arm moved. It fell off the bed, but it was pointing a definite direction. Gloha made careful note; she had a kind of answer!

But she needed more. “Is there anything that can help me in my search?” she asked.

The arm moved again. This time it pointed at King Emeritus Trent.

“Magician Trent can help me?” Gloha asked, startled. “But he's-” She caught herself before uttering the trite little truth that he was far too anciently old to be able to do anything' much more than make it through his share of the fade-out party, and might have trouble even with that. “He's otherwise committed,” she concluded.

Trent himself seemed startled. “He must be pointing to something beyond me,” he said.

“Such as the wall,” Iris said with half a smile. “I'm sure that will be a great help to her.”

“Something beyond the wall,” Trent said with the other half of the smile. “Just as was the case when he pointed toward her ideal man.”

“Perhaps he got the questions reversed, and meant that you are her ideal man,” Iris said with a quarter of a new smile.

Trent laughed. “How nice it would be to think so! But I think she is looking for one about seventy-six years younger. Here, I'll get out of the way, and Crombie can point again.” He eased himself down and to the side, sitting on a cushion near Crombie's head.

Gloha was relieved to get the chance to clear up the confusion. “Mister Crombie, sir, could you point again to whoever or whatever might be able to help me in my quest for my ideal man?”

The withered arm shuddered and moved again. The gnarled forefinger pointed up beyond the decrepit head. Directly at Trent again.

Gloha was both chagrined and intrigued. It did seem that Crombie's talent was working, because the man wasn't even looking and couldn't have known exactly where Trent had moved. But how could ancient aged old King Emeritus Trent help her? There had to be some confusion.

She had asked directions four times: for Humfrey's second son, for her ideal man, and for something to help her, twice. Crombie had been unable to point for the first, but had seemed pretty sure about the other two. The confusion was more likely to be in the first than in the last. Odd that he had failed there. Did it mean the second son was dead? Then why had Humfrey told her to ask him? Was she supposed to find his ghost? That didn't seem quite reasonable; ghosts seldom answered questions.

Then Gloha suffered another astonishing little intuition. But she would have to verify it, because there was something confusing about it. “I-could I talk to Crombie alone?” she asked timorously.

“Why not?” Jewel said. “We can organize for our party.”

The others left the chamber. Gloha emboldened herself enough to take Crombie's weathered and almost crumbling hand. Some of her young little vitality seemed to cross over and mend his old gross senility. “We are alone, Mister Crombie,” she said. “I promise not to repeat what you tell me, if you want it that way. Will you tell me why you couldn't tell me where Humfrey's second son is?”

The wrinkled ash-gray head rolled from side to side. The worn lips quivered. “No,” he shuddered.

“I have a suspicion,” Gloha continued relentlessly. “I think the Good Magician had a reason to send me to his second son, and I think you do know where he is.”

“No,” Crombie creaked again.

“I think that maybe, just possibly, perhaps you are that second son. That I found my way to you despite not knowing.”

He rolled his head some more, but didn't say no again.

“What I don't understand is why you don't want it known. Maybe if you told me, I would understand.”

He was still reluctant, but in the face of her accurate little assessment he managed to recover enough to tell her the story. He was the son of Humfrey and the Mundane woman Sofia, whom Humfrey had married because she was the finest living sock sorter. Humfrey had had a son with his first wife, the Demoness Dara, and a daughter with his third wife, Rose of Roogna. But Humfrey had been more interested in his work than in his family, and more interested in training Magician-level children like Trent and Iris than in his own child. So Crombie had been pretty well ignored and alienated.

“Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that!” Gloha said with more than a slight little surge of sympathy. “No wonder you weren't happy. But still I don't understand why you don't want to be known as his son.”

So Crombie told her about his experience with the Demoness Metria: how he had met her when looking for a better mother, and how she had helped him fight off the spooks of the night bedroom, and stayed with him until he turned thirteen and became aware of the female of the species. Then she dissolved into smoke and drifted away. He realized that she had stayed with him only in order to get into Humfrey's castle and spy out his secrets. He had looked for a girlfriend, and thought he found one, but when he wanted to see her panties she had puffed into smoke and he realized that the demoness was having more fun with him. He knew it was Metria, because she had a thing with words: she seldom could remember precisely the right one, and had to hunt through her vocabulary for it. That made her unique among demons, and always gave her away. But more important, she was female, and her mischief was always of a female nature. So he had sworn off women forever.

“I can see why,” Gloha said. “She shouldn't have teased you like that. Everyone knows that all any man wants of a young woman is to see her panties. That's how Mela Merwoman nabbed Prince Naldo Naga, and she wasn't even very young. That's how I'll nab my ideal man, if I ever find him. But why did that make you not want to be known as Humfrey's son?”

So he told her how he had grown up and left home and gone out on his own, becoming a soldier. He had been supremely embittered by the disinterest of his father, and of course his mother was a woman, so there was nothing there for him. Later he had discovered a nice nymph, and she was all right, because nymphs weren't women, they were innocent creatures. So he had married her, and been satisfied, though she had loved someone else.

Gloha got a giddy little glimmer of something that surely was none of her business. “Whom else did she love?”

“Bink. He drank love elixir without realizing it, and saw her, and loved her though he was already married. In time she came to love him back, but by then his love had been nulled by the Time of No Magic. So she was left hurting. But I liked her, and I brought her a love potion, and then she loved me too. Of course it still took a while for her other love for him to fade, if it ever did, because it was natural.”

That explained Bink's odd attitude toward Jewel. He had once loved her, and she had once loved him. That was the sad memory of what might have been between them. How romantic!

“Didn't it bother you that her love for him was natural, while her love for you was magic?”

“No, I knew the situation. All I asked of her was that she be a good wife to me, and that she was.”

So Crombie had made his own life, and that was all right. Fortunately his daughter Tandy was half nymph, so he could stand her. But he never saw reason to let his connection to the Good Magician be known. Humfrey had never given any indication of caring, after all.

Gloha got an intriguing little insight of another intuition. “But suppose Humfrey did show he cared about you?” she asked. “I mean, everyone knows that he'd rather grump than breathe, and would never admit to any human passion, but just suppose he let slip a hint that he remembered you and wanted to know how you were doing? Would that make it all right for you to be known as his second son?”

Crombie thought about it, and seemed to be trying to fight off the notion, but its allure was too much for his frail old resistance, and he finally had to admit that that might make it barely all right. But he knew that Humfrey would never let slip anything like that, so it didn't matter. Now he would fade out in peace with his friends, and all would be forgotten.

“But you said Trent and Iris were the ones who took your father's attention from you,” Gloha said. “Why should you be friends with them?”

“They didn't know how it was,” Crombie said, his voice growing stronger. “They think there was some other reason, such as the demoness. So they let it be, and haven't told anyone. And indeed, I worked for them for years, when Trent was king, and he was a good employer. No fault in him. So now I don't want to embarrass them by having it known.”

“And your daughter Tandy doesn't know?”

“She doesn't know. Neither does Jewel. So let's leave it that way. After the fade-out party it won't matter.”

“Well, that party may have to be postponed.”

The decrepit figure developed some semblance of animation. “Postponed! I can't make it beyond the day!”

“But you pointed to Trent as the one to help me find my ideal man. So he'll have to help me look. So he won't be able to join your party now. Wouldn't you rather wait until he can?”

“You are making typically female mischief!” he exclaimed, his insecurely fastened bones rattling with the effort.

“Well, that's my nature,” she said with a golden little grin. “I think Humfrey misses you, and wants to be recognized as your father, but can't do it if you don't agree. He can't even admit that he wants it, for fear of your rejection. So he sent me to see you, hoping I'd jog something loose. I'll bet that if you gave even one nod of agreement, he'd be here to make amends.”

BOOK: Harpy Thyme
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