Knot Gneiss (22 page)

Then Gnever tapped the ground with his staff, and a hinged portal opened, with solid wood stairs leading down. He led the way down into the depths. It seemed that they had landed almost on top of this access, coincidentally.

Wenda distrusted coincidence. There was usually magic involved, and not necessarily friendly magic.

I knew there was something here, so I oriented on it,
Jumper thought.
I hoped it was the Door. But it seems to be the wrong door.

The wrong door. Wenda hesitated, not liking the idea of getting trapped underground. But gnomes did generally live below, so this made sense. She followed, and the other members of her party followed her.

The stairs led to a subterranean hall, which led in turn to a larger chamber. Here there were a number of gnomes and gnomides, the female of the species.

Gnever introduced them, having an uncanny memory for names. In barely three moments each member of their party had a friendly gnome companion. Had the gnomes somehow been expecting them? They had been on the world for a while now, so news must have spread.

Wenda’s companion was Gnaughty Gnomide, a remarkably fetching little creature. Now that Wenda was male, she was better able to appreciate such qualities in a female. “Come this way,” Gnaughty said, leading Wenda to another chamber where there was a huge banquet table.

The others were there with their guides. Wenda noticed that each guide was of the opposite gender, and attractive. The meal was wonderful, with tasty courses and drinks. The gnomes were going to an extraordinary length to make the visitors welcome. Why?

Gnaughty did not keep her in doubt long after dessert. “We want to persuade you to stay. We need new blood. We can make you happy here.”

“So Gnever said. But we have other business and must move on.” Wenda saw similar conversations occurring around the table.

“We can offer you so much,” the gnomide pleaded. She turned to Wenda, and her robe came slightly open, showing her marvelously bare bosom beneath.

This electrified Wenda. She was appalled in more than one respect. First, because she reacted so strongly to the exposure, which she knew was intentional; her male body was reacting in a fully masculine manner. Second because it signaled how far the gnomes would go to convince their visitors to stay. She had no doubt that Gnaughty would eagerly oblige her in any way she desired, and of course her body had only one desire at the moment. And she couldn’t afford that.

“I see what you offer,” Wenda said carefully, “but I am human and you are a gnome. I am twice your height, and about four times your mass. Such a liaison is not physically feasible.”

“We have accommodation spells,” Gnaughty said, inhaling.

Wenda almost freaked out. She had always been privately amused by the way men foolishly freaked at the sight of women’s panties or breasts. Now it was not funny at all; it was dangerous. “Those are temporary effects. They don’t actually change the nature of the folk.”

“But they do make stork summoning feasible and enjoyable,” Gnaughty said. “Yet I hope to satisfy you that we won’t even need a spell, once we get private.” She shifted her position slightly to provide a better view.

Wenda knew she couldn’t afford to freak out; she would be lost, with or without the spell. The gnomide already had her in thrall, and surely the other companions were doing the same to the other members of the Quest, of whatever gender. This was a choreographed campaign.

She clapped her eyes closed. “Gnaughty,” she said urgently, “I’m married.”

“On another world? That doesn’t count on this one.”

“And I am female.”

“Not here.”

“I may have the body of a man here, but I am really a woman. That will always be true. I couldn’t marry another woman even if I were free to do so.”

“And I am male,” Gnaughty said, unfazed.

Wenda’s eyes popped open involuntarily, and were trapped. The view remained, locking her gaze in place. “What?”

“We are all reverse-gendered here. We make the best of it. If any of us ever leave the root, we’ll change to our true genders. So we won’t leave.”

“You’re all—” But of course it was true. How could it not affect the natives? “But then—”

“Understand, it takes place at birth or before; we don’t know. So I have always seemed female, to myself and others. But I would be a male gnome away from here. So if we married, and departed, we would change together. We will always be of opposite genders.”

This was almost overwhelming. “Well, I am used to being a woman. I mean to return to being one as soon as possible. I can’t help you. We can’t help you. We must go now.”

“Please,” Gnaughty said desperately. Tears began to form in her lovely eyes.

But Wenda knew she could not afford to relent. Tears were another female weapon that could demolish her male resistance. She had used them herself when necessary. She had to act immediately.

She stood up. “Folks, we are departing now. The Door is not here.” This was a desperate guess, but necessary. The gnomes were not about to let them find or use the Door. “We must go look elsewhere. Now.”

The others, having caught on similarly, did not hesitate. They knew they were on the brink of disaster. They stood up and made their way to her.

“You can’t do this,” Gnever protested.

“It is not that we feel you are bad folk,” Wenda said, still trying to be careful. “You could surely make us very comfortable here. But we have a mission to accomplish. We thank you for your hospitality, and will now resume our search for the way home.”

“I appreciate your phrasing,” Gnever said, “but I was speaking literally. You can’t do this, because we will not let you out until you are properly committed to our community. Our access is closed.”

Wenda didn’t argue with him. She led the way through the chambers to the hall to the stairs, and up the steps.

The portal was locked shut, with a magical bond. They could not open it.

“We ask you to reconsider,” Gnever said.

Now each gnome companion approached his or her guest. Gnaughty flashed her décolletage, effectively freezing Wenda in place, then stood on a step that brought her face to the level of Wenda’s face, and kissed her. It was no amateur effort.

Wenda freaked out, overwhelmed by little flying hearts.

When she recovered, she and the others were locked in a bedroom chamber. They had all been similarly captured.

“What a creature,” Ida remarked, brushing away a heart that clung electrostatically to her shirt. “If I had a quarter of that expertise, I would have been married long since.”

“I can only hope that my bethrothee has some similar ability,” Hilarion said. “And that when I am male again, I can impress her in the manner my gnome impressed me. He may be short of stature, but he’s one romantic figure.”

“What do we do now?” Meryl asked.

Wenda had come to a realization during her freaking-out. “We wait.”

“We what?” Angela asked.

“I think they will let us go in the morning.”

The others stared at her in perplexity. Then Jumper smiled in a fetchingly female way, having read her mind.

They used the suite bathroom to wash up, and settled onto the various beds.

The nuptial party appeared, and promptly changed genders. “Oh, my!” Charming said as his clothing bulged in particular sections.

Demon Beauregard was similarly confused as he discovered himself to be a demoness. Angela took hold of him. “I have a surprise for you, you ravishing creature,” she said.

And Eris was now male. Wenda knew that the local reversal could not affect her; she was merely going along with it. “You look very pretty, Jumper,” she said, and took hold of him.

Wenda caught Charming and hauled him into the suddenly curtained bed. She gave him no chance to protest. And in seven minutes she was sound asleep while he remained amazed and awake. It was glorious.

In the morning the chamber door opened. Gnever stood there. “It seems we have a problem,” he said.

Wenda affected innocence. “Whatever can that be?”

“That object you left on your wagon. The gneiss rock.”

“It’s not nice,” she said, not caring that the local reverse wood was not nullifying her dialect spell.

“Correct. It is a terror. We are fearful to approach it.”

Now the other members of the Quest were catching on. The Knot had burned through its shield and was radiating its petrifying malice.

“Fancy that,” Wenda remarked without sympathy.

“Could you—would you move it?”

“Why should we want to do that?” She was enjoying this, and the others were stifling smirks and snickers.

“It is obstructing our exit! We fear to go near it.”

“It is merely a not of reverse would,” Wenda said reasonably. “You surely have seen similar things before.”

“Not like this! What have you done to it?”

“Nothing. It did it to itself. It’s petrified.”

Now he began to understand. “Old wood. Transformed by time.”

“That’s right. Now that you understand it, you should have no further problem. Just ignore it.”

Gnever looked pained. “We can’t. The effect is too strong, too close to our door.”

“That’s odd,” Wenda said. “We do. It would be no trouble for us to move it. But we can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“We are confined to quarters here. Don’t you remember?”

The gnome was starting to look ill. “If we—if we let you go?”

Wenda considered. “Actually we are coming to like it here. We are in no hurry to go.”

Gnever knew he was being manipulated. “What—what do you want?”

“What do you have? Aside from winsome damsels?”

“We made many reverse-wood artifacts for export. Swords, arrows, or simply arrowheads. Those can be devastating on other worlds.”

Wenda considered. “Perhaps we could use a supply of those. Give them to Prince Ida.”

Hope flared. “Then you will move it?”

“We will take it with us when we go. Provided there are no further complications.”

“No complications!” he agreed eagerly.

Wenda shrugged. “Perhaps we should have breakfast before we go.”

Soon they were at the morning banquet, with their gnome companions of the day before. “You were magnificent,” Gnaughty murmured. “I’ve never before seen Gnever sweat like that.” She was showing no freakish flesh.

“You aren’t angry because we are not staying?”

“We do what we have to do.” Gnaughty lowered her gaze. “I have a boyfriend I’d rather entertain, no offense.”

“None taken.”

The Knot was no trouble. Wenda went first and replaced the seeds in the net, nullifying its baleful glare. Then the others joined her. Jumper changed to roc form, and they wheeled the wagon onto his back. They reverted to their natural genders as they left contact with the ground.

The assembled gnomes stared. “He’s a Magician!” Gnever exclaimed, staring at the monstrous bird. “If he had done that underground—”

“There was no need,” Wenda said cheerfully. “We knew you would reconsider in the morning, being nice people.”

Gnaughty was not the only gnome to stifle a giggle. They were, after all, good sports.

Then Jumper got to his feet, taxied, pumped his wings, and took off. The gnomes below and behind waved.

“We forgot to demand the location of the Door!” Meryl said, stricken.

“Not so,” Wenda said smugly. “Jumper took it from them telepathically. We are flying there now.”

Hilarion, changing to his masculine clothes, nodded. “You are truly a princess.”

The others applauded. Wenda blushed.

But he’s right,
Jumper thought.
You showed real leadership qualities throughout. Right from the start when you told me to get that Door location.

Wenda continued to blush. She had merely seen what she had to do, and done it.

They descended a relatively short distance up the trunk where there was a mountain range of bark masking a winding valley, a crevice in the bark. But as they approached, the scale of it became evident: the formation was huge. This was after all a planet, whose details were landscapes. In that valley was a lake, and on the lake was an island. On the island was a single hill, like an overgrown branch, and in the side of the hill was a cave. It looked exactly like a knothole, by no coincidence.

Jumper landed neatly on a plain beside the hill. They dismounted and rolled the wagon off. Jumper reverted to manform.

As their feet touched the ground, the scenery changed. The hill became a giant pit, the cave an ugly boulder. But they knew it was the familiar image reversal.

“The Sidewalk and Door are within,” Wenda said. “There is a path. All we have to do is follow it.”

Buoyed by the success of their search, they rolled the wagon down into the masked cave.

As they entered the cave things changed again.
The wood is situational reversal,
Jumper thought.
I picked that up from the gnomes.
His body was now that of a fly, so he had to speak telepathically.

“Completing the five aspects of Reverse World,” Hilarion agreed. He was now a pauper.

“It is surely bearable,” the child Ida agreed.

“But hardly comfortable,” Demoness Angela said.

“I agree!” Meryl said. She had resumed the fish-headed, human-legged form, complete with the panties that threatened to freak Hilarion out. She quickly donned a skirt Ida provided.

And Wenda, overwhelmed by the ambiance, discovered herself to be a reversed woodwife: only her backside existed, while her frontside was hollow. “We shall endure,” she said bravely, not at all pleased.

They resumed motion—and walked carelessly into trouble. The path was there, but reversed; what looked like a rise was a descent. Before they knew it, the wagon was rolling ponderously down.

Hilarion and Jumper labored to hold it back, while fish-headed Meryl and Demoness Angela ran helplessly beside it. The child Ida, behind, could do nothing. All of them were hampered by their unfamiliarly reversed bodies.

Wenda, walking beside it, saw a chasm to the side. She tried to push the wagon away from it, but lacked sufficient substance to move it. Her footing gave way and suddenly she was falling into the gulf.