Pet Peeve (11 page)

“You'll never succeed, lamebrain.”

“The odds do seem to be against success,” Goody agreed. “But what else is there?”

“Nothing else,” Hannah said. “Only a madman would adopt this abominable bird.”

They set off south again. Goody glanced back, and saw activity at the construction site. At least the wheel was turning. Maybe the device was taking itself apart, now that its job was done.

Hannah saw his glance, and followed it with one of her own. “Machines give me the creeps,” she said. “They're so un-barbarian. You never know what they're up to. I'll take regular garden-variety magic any day.”

“You would, illiterate skirt.”

“I didn't see you reading that robot message, fowl-mouth.”

“I'm a bird, caveman cretin! Why should I read?”

“It would be better if you didn't talk, either, booby beak.” The parody let loose a torrent of expletives that toasted the air around them. The barbarian had evidently scored. It was good to see the two getting along.

But Goody felt uneasy, for no reason he could fathom at the moment. It didn't help that he had the feeling that he was missing something obvious.

There was no doubt they were entering the Region of Madness. While it was possible to encounter almost anything anywhere in Xanth, the oddities were thicker and odder here.

They discovered a tower that turned out to be made entirely of watches, their faces looking out, each showing a different time. They saw a tribe of hands, severed from their bodies, running around on their fingers. The largest one, evidently the leader, was labeled KER. He was the hand Ker Chief. “Handkerchief,” Hannah muttered.

They navigated a kind of network of walkways through a field of tall corn. “A maze of corn stalks,” Goody said.

“Maize,” Hannah agreed, not seeming much amused.

They camped by a stream and settled for the night. “I don't like this region,” Hannah said. “I can feel the magic intensifying. It's weird.”

Goody had to agree. Even the parody seemed cowed by the environment. “Maybe it's a bad idea.”

“But I really hate to be driven off by any nameless threat.”

“And maybe lose a chance to place the bird.”

“You fools never had a chance anyway.”

“Let's consider overnight,” Hannah said, “and if we don't change our minds by morning, we'll go back.”

That seemed like a reasonable compromise.

As they ate supper from their supplies, they heard something odd. Hannah put her hand on her sword.

Something vaguely like a monstrous caterpillar came into sight. Each segment was a book with two little feet. It spied them, and lifted its book-head. On it was printed THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE TOME.

“Get out of here, you ridiculous bookworm!” the peeve cried.

Goody exchanged a glance with Hannah. A bookworm!

The print changed. LIBRARY ANN WOULD NOT SAY THAT.

“Librarian,” Hannah muttered.

“Ann's not here, joker!”

Disappointed, the bookworm moved on.

“Are we decided yet?” Hannah asked.

“Yes. Tomorrow we get out of here.”

“About time you fledgling freaks saw the light.”

They slept somewhat uneasily.

The barbarian woman was up before him, out and around. Goody wasn't concerned; he was glad to leave her some privacy for female concerns. But when she didn't return soon, he became uneasy.

“Did you see Hannah?” he asked the parody.

“Why the bleep should I want to?”

So much for that. Goody did not want to go too far afield, because there was mischief all around that he was sure he could not handle on his own. True, he now knew the nature of his talent, and that might help if an ogre tried to smash his head into his feet, but he was not at all sure how much protection he really had.

“Hannah!” he called. “Where are you?”

There was no answer.

Something cold squeezed his innards. The barbarian was no joker; she would not do anything like this from humor. Neither was she a quitter; she would not desert him. That meant she was in some kind of trouble.

How was he to even think about rescuing her? He had no idea where she was, and anything that could take her out would make much shorter work of him.

He was just about to panic when he heard footsteps approaching through the forest. Someone was coming. Was it Hannah?

The figure rounded a tree and came into view. It was humanoid, but far too small. It was female, but no barbarian lass.

“A gob gal!” the parody exclaimed.

So it was. All goblin women were pretty and nice, so there was nothing to fear from her. But what was she doing out here alone? This was no safe place for anyone, particularly a lone girl.

Then she came close enough to recognize. Goody was stunned. It was Go-Go! The lovely love of his life, for whom he would have given his life if only to save hers. The one he couldn't stop loving, no matter what else happened. She would always be THE woman of his life.

But that couldn't be. His wife was most of a year dead, and there was no other like her. She had had no sister. She was unique.

She came to stand before him, silently. He knew Go-Go as well as anyone did; they had been married nearly twenty years, and he had loved her all that time. He knew her little nuances and mannerisms. No aspect of her could ever be erased from his fond memory.

This was Go-Go. Yet of course it couldn't be. So it had to be a perfect imitation.

“Who are you?” he demanded somewhat gruffly. He loved the sight of her, but hated the idea of anyone copying her appearance.

She merely shook her head.

“You can't answer—or won't?” he asked.

She spread her hands in that little way she had.

“You're mute!” he said. “You can't talk.”

She nodded. It was evident that she heard and understood him, but could not speak to him.

But Go-Go was literate. “Write it,” he said, clearing a patch of ground and handing her a thin stick.

Again she shook her head. She couldn't write either.

That resolved any question: She was not Go-Go. But who or what was she?

Well, sometimes the game of Nineteen Questions could help in a situation like this. “Can you answer yes or no?”

She nodded yes.

“Are you Go-Go?”

She shook her head no.

So far so good; she had his wife's appearance, but was not trying to pretend she was that woman.

For the moment his fear abated, now that he had an immediate problem to solve. “Are you some other woman?”

Yes.

“A lost gobliness?”

No.

He considered. Was she telling the truth? Suppose she were some kind of goblin-eating monster sent to lure him into a trap so he could be dispatched? How could he trust her? He couldn't ask her that, because either a friend or an enemy would answer that she was a friend—assuming she really was female.

Yet if she were a monster, she could have pounced on him already. Maybe his bounce talent would protect him—but she hadn't even tried. If she were a monster, she wouldn't know about his talent. Even if she had been lurking around watching him, waiting for him to be without his bodyguard, she would not have seen the talent in action, because he hadn't used it. So this did suggest she was harmless. It didn't prove it, but made it seem likely.

“Are you some other kind of female?”

Yes.

“Human?”

Yes.

But what human woman would be here, seeking him out?

Think outside the box.

A bulb flashed over his head. “Could you be—are you—Hannah Barbarian, transformed?”

She smiled. Yes.

He really had to believe it. Hannah was inexplicably missing, and this woman had come to him. Who else would do that? “But what happened?”

She spread her hands.

First he needed to verify her identity, as far as possible. “How did we meet? At your home village?”

No.

“At Castle Roogna?”

No.

“At the Good Magician's castle?”

Yes.

Was that enough? He doubted it. “What is our relationship? Are we business associates?”

Yes.

“Friends?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

He nerved himself for the key one. “Lovers?”

She stepped back, dismayed. No.

“So we have never seen each other unclothed?”

She hesitated again. No.

There was the error. They had stripped and bathed together. So she had guessed wrong.

“Idiot!”

The parody always insulted, but it was seldom actually wrong. Had he missed something? Then he figured it out. He had said they had never seen each other unclothed, and that was untrue. She had answered no, which was after all correct. He had tripped himself up—and been an idiot.

“We have been bare together?”

Yes.

“But did not touch?”

No.

Because they had scrubbed each other's backs. “We touched?”

Yes.

“In any romantic way?”

No.

“So we are like brother and sister?”

She paused, then slowly shook her head.

“I mean, we are friends.”

Yes.

She had answered everything correctly. Had they been siblings—which was of course impossible—he would not have freaked out when she shook herself dry.

So where did that leave him? If this was not Hannah, he was surely lost, because he could hardly survive alone. If it was Hannah, he could trust her, but still had to find out how she had been transformed, and how to reverse it, because she couldn't help him much in this form. So it made sense to accept her; his only route to survival lay in recovering her as his guardian.

“I believe you,” he said. “But we are still in trouble. Can you tell me how this happened to you?”

No. Further questioning determined that she had been returning to their camp when she had walked through a glowing glade, and suddenly found herself in a dusky stone chamber. Some sort of man figure was there. She had drawn her sword; he had lifted his arm; and then she was back in the glade, in this form.

Goody had heard of something once. “There is a castle kept for the three little princesses, and there's one chamber in it that is forbidden, because within it is something called the Random Factor, who does something random and horrible to anyone who enters his room. You must have entered a portal that took you there, and the Factor transformed you and sent you back the way you had come, rendered mute so you couldn't tell anyone else. Maybe it didn't realize that there are other ways for folk to communicate.”

She nodded; that made sense to her.

“But trying to return to ask the Factor to change you back won't work; he never does what anyone else wants.”

“Moron!”

Both Goody and the Go-Go image smiled grimly. The bird thought they were missing something. Again.

Goody reasoned it out. “But most spells can be reversed if you know how. It's part of their balance; they are easier to do if they contain the seed of their undoing. Something like that. So maybe there's a key to reversing it, if we can only find it.”

She nodded hopefully.

But something still nagged him. “How is it you assumed this form? You look exactly like my wife.”

They worked it out: it could be another convenience of transformation. Rather than invent a new form, the Factor had changed her to the closest one for which there was a clear pattern. The image in his mind, of Go-Go Gobliness. Hannah had seen that when he reviewed his life history for the robots. The Factor didn't care about its relevance; the image was there, so it was used.

Could it be illusion? That could be readily checked. They embraced. She felt exactly like Go-Go. He had to stop himself from kissing her, though the urge was strong. He wasn't doing this to please himself, but to verify her situation. Had it been Hannah's form clothed in illusion, he would have found himself hugging her legs, his face in her skirt. So it was a real transformation. That also meant that Hannah had lost her weapons and muscle. She would not be able to protect him in her normal manner.

In fact, they realized, she was now more vulnerable than he. He would have to protect her. Until they found the way to change her back.

They pondered this. Then she pointed to the little bag tied to his waistband.

“The four spells!” he said, remembering. “You're right; it's time to use them. They may be awkward and risky, but hardly more so than what we face on our own.” He paused. “But should I invoke one now, to discover its nature, or wait until there is immediate need?”

They discussed it, in their fashion, and decided to compromise: invoke one spell now, and another where there was need.

“Now all we have to do is walk out of the Region of Madness,” Goody said. “Protected by my talent and a four spell. We hope.” He looked at her. “Probably you should stay close to me, because though ordinarily you like to range about scaring away monsters, that won't work now. You'll need to be protected by my limited magic.”

She nodded meekly enough. She had always been a realist.

He opened the bag and poked in two fingers. He caught something and drew it out. It dissipated into smoke. Nothing seemed to have happened.

Then Hannah pointed. It was a dull day, but now there were two shadows in front of him, as if twin suns were at his back. He turned to look behind him, and the shadows spun around with him, but he caught a glimpse behind: there were two more there, angling out. “Fourshadows!” he exclaimed. “Magician Grey Murphy told me about them. They reflect my immediate past and future.”

Hannah/Go-Go looked questioningly at him.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “This bears investigation. I have no idea how they work.”

She pointed to the rear shadows.

“Study them,” he said, understanding again. “They should provide the key to how the front shadows work.”

They discovered that the shadows to the left, fore and aft, were shorter, as if more recent, hoping that made sense. The two to the right were longer. They were not outlines of Goody, but of other things. The right rear shadow was quite dark and showed a large woman form; the left rear shadow was light and showed a small woman form.

Hannah figured it out before he did. She pointed to the short shadow, then to herself. When she stood beside it, it might have been her shadow. “It means I just encountered you!” he exclaimed. “As a goblin girl.”

She nodded, smiling. Then she stood beside the longer one, and reached her hands up as high as she could. “When you were in your human form,” he said. Indeed, now he recognized it as her. It even had her sword, slung by her hip.

“But why is it so dark?” he asked.

Soon they figured that out too: “The darker the shadow, the more intense the encounter,” he said. “This shows when you disappeared, and I was in danger of perishing here. And the other shows that I found you, so it's lighter because there's no threat.”

“So the dummy's getting smarter,” the parody said sourly.

“You're getting mellow,” Goody informed it. “That's really not much of an insult.”

The bird shut its beak, disgruntled.

Now they considered the front shadows. The left one was dark, and flickering formlessly. The right one was also dark, and inert. “This makes me nervous,” Goody said. “What am I about to encounter?”

Hannah spread her hands.