Pet Peeve (13 page)

“A what?”

“A machine man. We saw them on Robot World. They can do things, but aren't alive.”

“A type of demon?” Justin asked.

“Not exactly. They're made of metal and wires. We brought a program for one, to make a dragon's nest.”

“Simpleton!”

“We must be overlooking something,” Hannah said.

Suddenly Goody remembered what had bothered him two chapters ago. “That robot-making device—it remained active as we left. It must have made another robot.”

Justin looked sharply at him. “Something is making these things? How do you know it stopped at one or two?”

“They work automatically,” Goody said. “They just keep going. It must still be making robots.”

Hannah nodded. “I think maybe we had better get back there and turn it off, before we have these things getting underfoot.”

“What's this one doing here?” Breanna asked.

They looked more carefully at the robot. It was using a trowel-like extension on its arm to dig a hole in the ground. When it had dug as deep as it could go, it quit, walked a few paces farther, and dug again. There was a small hole in its backside that emitted smoke.

“Metal moron!”

The robot ignored the bird, imperturbably continuing its business.

“It's doing a survey,” Justin said. “Looking for something.”

“For iron!” Goody said with sudden realization. “They need it to make their bodies.”

“That implies intelligence,” Justin said. “Or at least some clear directive. They are reproducing their kind.”

“Without limit,” Hannah said. “Other than their supply of iron. We may already be too late to stop it.”

“Why, beast brain?”

“Because if they're actually smart, the first thing they would do is hide their factory,” she said. “So we can't come and shut it down.”

“That makes uncomfortable sense,” Breanna said.

“Bully for you, blot broad!”

A small black cloud formed over Breanna's head. “You know, I could get annoyed at you, bird brain, if I tried.”

“Make the effort, zombie lover.”

“Just ignore it,” Goody said. “It has a high AQ. That is, Annoyance Quotient.”

“Not till I put it in its place,” Breanna said grimly. She moved her head near the parody. “Say something else, bantam beak.” The cloud intensified.

“Go soak your coal-colored caboose! What are you going to do, blacklist me, Stygian schlep?”

A miniature bolt of lightning speared out of the cloud, just missing the bird's foot.

The peeve considered, then kept its beak shut.

“I'll send the zombies out to count robots,” Justin said. “That may give us a notion how many are in the vicinity.”

“There can't be many,” Goody said. “It hasn't been that long since we left the dragons.”

“It's been three days,” Hannah said. “That first one took only about an hour.”

“And their factory may be more efficient now,” Justin said.

“And there may be more than one factory,” Breanna said. “There could be hundreds of them already.”

Worse and worse. But there was a more immediate curiosity. “Why does this one smoke?” Goody asked.

They paused to consider that. “What powers them?” Justin asked. “Magic powers zombies, but this doesn't seem to be using magic. I suspect it is burning wood inside, and using its heat for power, the way they do in Mundania.”

“I never thought of that,” Hannah said. “Magic things are powered by magic, but humans, goblins, and other living things are powered by the food we eat. The robots' food must be wood.”

“I hate that,” Justin said. “I was a tree for several decades.”

“And it splintered your wits, fagot face.”

“Unfortunately, there are trees everywhere in Xanth,” Hannah said. “So we can't cut off their food.”

Justin assembled the zombies and gave them simple instructions. They dispersed, shambling in random directions. One of them brought a wooden box and pushed the little robot into it for safekeeping. The machine was only ankle tall, so was easy to pick up and carry.

“Meanwhile, come in and have dinner,” Breanna said. “It will take them a while to do their business.”

They went back inside the castle. A zombie brought a bottle from the castle wine cellar, but Breanna sent it back.

“We don't mean to be choosy,” Goody protested.

“That was rot gut,” she explained. “Zombie whiskey.”

Oh.

The zombie brought another bottle. “This will do,” Breanna said. “This is ale, from a local ale-ing tree. They are cousins of the beerbarrel trees.” She popped it open and poured foaming glasses. “This is honey brown ale, because we have bees nearby. We avoid the ones growing near wild oats.”

“Oh? Why?” Hannah asked.

“Because men who drink wild oat ale become unduly attractive to nymphs, and attracted to nymphs,” Breanna said tightly. “And women don't like it. The ale, I mean. It tastes cheap.”

Goody sipped his ale. It was heady stuff.

Breanna poured a smaller glass. “This is for you, bird brain. Gripe soda.”

The bird hesitated, not trusting this.

“It's safe,” Breanna said. “Here, I'll sip it first.” She did so. “Awful-tasting stuff,” she griped.

Reassured, the parody flapped across to the edge of the table. It dipped its beak into the drink. “Awful!” it agreed, pleased.

“I always hope she'll confuse the bottles,” Justin said, smiling.

“It's bad enough when you see those show girls in the forest,” Breanna snapped, evidently feeling the effect of her sip of gripe soda.

“Show girls?” Goody asked.

“They are scantily garbed female shapes,” Justin said. “That show anyone anything, though not in sufficient detail.”

“More than sufficient, jerk!” Breanna said. But her mood was easing. It was clear that she and Justin liked teasing each other.

After the meal the zombie foreman reported: “Zeven roboz in areaz.”

“Seven,” Justin said seriously. “If there are seven here, how many are there in all of Xanth?”

Hannah frowned. “There could be a hundred.”

“You had better stay here tonight,” Justin said. “The zombies will verify the count in the morning. Then you can decide what to do.”

“Thank you,” Goody said. What a development!

He shared a room with Hannah and the parody, by mutual choice. They were accustomed to being together, and he felt safer with her nearby, though surely there was no threat from the zombies.

“Why do I think that we now have a bigger problem than placing the bird?” she asked rhetorically as they settled for the night.

“And it's my fault,” Goody said, chagrined.

“It's our fault. I'm a warrior; I should have picked up on the threat.”

“I saw the first robot factory active as we left, and didn't catch on.”

“There is guilt enough to go around. What are we going to do about it?”

“I wish I knew!”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “I'll think about it overnight. They may not be dangerous. It was just a nest-constructing program we brought, after all.”

“Do we know that? Could there have been more to that program than we realized? We wanted just one female robot, but now there are males too, out searching for iron.”

She grimaced. “Suddenly I fear there is. Those machines on Robot World were awfully cooperative. Maybe they just made up something to make us think we were making an even trade, when they really wanted to get that program to Xanth. Why should they care about our personal life histories, anyway?”

“To study us,” Goody said. “To ascertain our vulnerabilities. So as to know whether we would fall for it.”

“Now you're thinking like a warrior,” she said. “Scouting the enemy. I fear we have been fools.”

“Exactly,” the peeve said.

“Well, I'll ponder,” she said. She threw herself down on the floor and slept.

Goody had the bed to himself. It was soft, but he took time to nod off. He did feel responsible for the crisis.

In the morning there was bad news: There were now twelve little robots, including the one they had captured. It had cut a hole in the box and escaped.

“Dolts!” the parody said enthusiastically.

“Of course,” Hannah said. “They're construction robots. They have tools, like drills, hammers, and wire cutters. Why should a wood box hold them? We should have realized.”

“Then we'll try stone,” Justin said grimly. He gave instructions, and the zombies spread out again.

“But they don't have boxes,” Goody said.

“They'll carry the robots here by hand.”

“But if the machines have hammers and pincers—”

“They can't hurt zombies.”

Oh. Goody hardly needed the peeve's chortled reminder of his continuing idiocy. He was missing obvious things galore.

They had a nice breakfast with only one miscue: Hannah reached for a platter with pasta and cheese. “Don't eat that,” Breanna said.

“Oh, I thought it was part of breakfast.”

“No, that's a dish I made for a zombie wedding we'll have today. Matrimonial cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese?”

Breanna smiled. “Matrimonial cheese,” she repeated carefully. “It makes those who eat it feel extremely, um, loving.”

“Zombies?” Goody asked.

Breanna frowned. “They're people too, you know. When you cut them, do they not drip ichor? They have feelings. Their bodies and brains may be rotten, but they deserve their chances for satisfaction, same as anyone else. They—”

Justin made a small signal with one hand, and Breanna cut off her diatribe. “Sorry. I get carried away. Yes, zombies can love, not with living intensity, but it's real for them. So this dish is for them. It's not spoiled, but I don't think you would care for its effect unless you had a romantic relationship.”

“All screwed up!” the bird said.

“Thanks for the warning,” Hannah said. “When I find my brute barbarian male, I don't think we'll need it.”

After breakfast they went outside. The zombies had brought in fifteen little robots; it seemed more were coming in all the time. “They are eying the castle,” Justin said. “They want to check it for iron. We can't hold them long in the box. We have to deal with them.”

They watched the robots working on the stone box they were confined in. They were using little drills to make holes in it, then sawing out from the holes to make larger holes, and hammering out the partitions between holes. They seemed to be as good at deconstruction as construction. The work was slow, but steady. A fair amount of smoke was drifting up from their smoke holes. They hadn't seen the robots eat any wood, but surely they did, and a meal lasted a long time as it burned.

It was obvious that no box of any kind would hold them long; even metal would merely delay them. “What are we to do with them?” Goody asked despairingly. “We can't reason with them; they're mindless machines. But we can't ignore them.”

“I have a barbarian solution,” Hannah said. “Chop them into smithereens.” She smiled. “As it were. There's an ogre leader by that name.”

A glance circulated. “Maybe that's best,” Goody agreed reluctantly.

Hannah found a chopping block. She used barbarian gauntlets to fish the robots out of the box one at a time and drop them on the block. Then she used her sword to hack them into pieces. Soon there was a pile of metal kindling around the block, and all the robots were gone. Smoke still curled up from their broken fire boxes.

Goody felt queasy. He knew the robots had no feelings; they weren't alive. But still the destruction of animated, purposeful things bothered him. It had perhaps been necessary, but it was not nice.

“Blood and guts!” the parody swore.

That was exactly what those remnants seemed like.

They hashed it out, and decided that they should first go to dismantle the original robot factory, and if that didn't work, inform King Dor of the problem. Meanwhile the zombies would continue collecting and disposing of robots in the vicinity of Castle Zombie.

“It won't work, jerk,” the parody assured them.

“Listen, featherhead, it's your fault this happened,” Hannah said. “We had to go to Robot World for you.”

“You're a liar, brittle bra! You went for the dragon's nest.”

“Because we had to trade for Goody's talent, tattle-tail. So we could protect ourselves while ranging dangerous regions in search of a home for you.”

“I didn't ask you to find me a home, wanton wastrel! I won't like it anyway.”

“Because you don't like anything. What's the matter with you?”

“I'm a failed harpy, scandal skirt. What's your excuse?”

“Maybe we should just get on our way,” Goody suggested.

“Awww,” bird and barbarian said together.

“We were just getting warmed up,” Hannah concluded.

“Such language makes me uneasy,” Goody said.

Bird and barbarian exchanged a glance, and shrugged. Obviously what bothered him, they found invigorating.

They got on the enchanted path and moved smartly along. Soon they encountered a young man going the other way. His gaze crossed Goody and the parody, then lingered on the woman somewhat overfamiliarly. “Hi. I'm Tom.”

“Hey!” Hannah exclaimed, grabbing her metal halter.

“Sorry about that,” Tom said, not looking sorry. “It's my talent.”

“Talent?” Goody asked, confused.

“Undressing women with my eyes.”

“Well, drop your gaze,” Hannah snapped as she fastened her halter back together.

The man lowered his gaze—and her skirt dropped down around her knees. “Oops,” he said.

“One more slip like that, and I'll undress your bones with my sword,” she snapped as she grabbed her skirt.

“That might be difficult, with your clothing falling off,” Tom said, unrepentant.

Hannah drew her sword—and her outer clothing dropped to the ground around her feet, hobbling her. Only her metallic panties remained. Fortunately their opaque thickness shielded Goody's eyes somewhat, so he was able to block the view with one hand while recovering his equilibrium. This was no time to freak out.

“Haw haw haw!!” the peeve laughed coarsely. “Battle-bottom's getting battered!”

“I feel a barbarian berserker rage coming on,” Hannah said ominously.

That would surely lead to bloodshed. “Please, not that,” Goody said. “Not on the enchanted path.”

“I love wild, bare women,” Tom said, focusing his lecherous gaze.

Goody leaped in front of Hannah as she crouched down to recover her fallen clothing. He felt something, and knew it was Tom's eye magic, this time going for the woman's panties.

Then it was Tom's turn to grab his clothing as it fell off his body. “What?” he asked, amazed.

“Hee hee hee!” the bird laughed just as coarsely. “Eye Candy's a streaker at heart.”

Goody realized that his talent had reflected the magic back at the man, undressing him. Well, it served him right.

Safely beyond the eye magic, Hannah repaired her attire. “Thanks, Goody,” she said.

“I was just trying to conceal you from his lecherous gaze. I didn't know that would happen.”

She grabbed his head and kissed his ear. “Thanks anyway, friend. Actually I don't care that much about clothing. It was just that I hated to let him think he was getting away with something.”

“Your petulant panties!”

“Something like that, bonehead beaker,” she agreed. “Goody's okay, because he never presumes. But I'd have had to slay that insolent man.”

“Please don't slay anyone on the enchanted path,” Goody repeated.

She considered. “True. We're not supposed to do that. I'd have had to lure him off the path first. Lack of clothing would have facilitated that.”

That hadn't been exactly what he meant, but surely she knew that.

They paused at a rest stop around noon. There was a deck chair on a lawn, looking very comfortable. It was labeled ROCKET, presumably its brand name. Goody decided to sit on it while he ate his pie.

“Hold up, friend,” Hannah warned. “That's off the path. I'd better check it first.”

“Chicken!” the parody said, flying across to the lawn chair, perching on it.

The bird took off so suddenly that feathers scattered. “Squawk!” it cried from a high tree branch.

“I had no idea you could fly that fast, truculent tailwind,” Hannah said, amazed.

“I can't!” The peeve fluttered back to ground. “That thing launched me.”

Hannah inspected it closely, poking with the tip of her sword. “No wonder. This is not a lawn chair; it's a launcher.”

“If I had sat on it—” Goody said, appalled.

“It might have jetted itself backwards.”

“Oh—that's right. I keep not thinking of my talent.”

“Fortunately you don't need to. It protects you anyway.”

“An idiot-proof talent: just the thing for you, goopy gob.”

They got most of the way to Castle Roogna by dusk. “We'll tackle that site in the morning,” Hannah said.

Goody was satisfied with that. He was nervous about what they would find.

After they ate and washed, they retired to the convenient shelter. As usual, Hannah spurned the comfortable bunk and dropped to the floor in her clothing. Goody stripped and lay down, drawing the sheet over him.

“Well now.”

He leaped out of the bed, almost landing on Hannah, who stirred, grasping her sword. There was a woman there! A sultry gobliness.

“Don't be like that,” the creature said from the darkness. “I won't virulence you.”

“Won't what me?”

“Gnaw, cut, lacerate, chomp, masticate—”

“Bite?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.

“What are you doing here, Metria?” Hannah asked.

“Trying to brighten this goblin's dull life. Go back to your floor, primitive wench.”

Hannah hesitated. “She probably means you no harm, Goody. If you'd like to be alone with her—”

“No!”

“Oh, come on,” the demoness urged. “I'll light your dead fire.”

Almost, he was tempted. When Hannah had been in goblin form he had reacted despite knowing better. With Metria, what was the point in knowing better? She was strictly a throwaway female. He did need to get over his reserve, if he was ever going to rejoin normal interpersonal society.

“Go ahead, gallant goblin,” the parody's voice came, radiating perverse humor. “Really get into it. Dip your stick.”

That decided him. “No. Let me sleep in peace, demoness.”

“You don't know what you're missing.”

“Yes, I do. Go.” That gave him a twinge, for it was the first half of Go-Go's name. That was indeed what he was missing: her loving embrace.

“Some other time,” she said, fading. How she managed that in complete darkness he wasn't sure, but she was gone.

“I think you could have called it either way,” Hannah said.

She was right, and it had been close. He was already half regretting his decision.

Next morning they cut south to locate where they had met the dragons and made the first robot. The site was there, but not the equipment. There was just a bare patch of ground.

“They moved,” Hannah said. “They probably found a better source of iron, and set up there.”

“Probably,” he agreed. He was disappointed, but not wholly surprised.

“I could track a robot, using my barbarian skill, but I can see there were a number of them, and I wouldn't know which one to follow. I think we've lost them.”

“Loser!”

“Bolt your beak, buzzard.”

“Same time as you stop flashing men on the enchanted path, drop-skirt.”

“Time to go to Castle Roogna,” Goody said heavily. “Maybe they'll know what to do.”

They wended their way back to the path, then on toward Castle Roogna, which wasn't far.

“Bogey at twelve o'clock!”

It turned out to be a girl standing in the path, looking to the side. No, it was a gnomide, a female gnome, standing about a third Hannah's height, or somewhat shorter than Goody. Gnomes tended to be surly and brusque with strangers, but gnomides were nicer.

“Hello,” Goody said. “I am Goody Goblin, traveling with Hannah Barbarian and this obnoxious bird. Is there a problem?”

“Yes, but you should go right on past, please.”

“But maybe we can help.”

“But you shouldn't try.”

“The gnifty gnomide's telling you to gnet lost, gnoblin.”

“It's the bird talking,” Goody said hastily. “It insults everyone. Pay it no attention.”

“Oh, it's starting already,” she said, looking frustrated.

“I don't understand.”

“I am Kiya Gnomide. My talent is to complicate situations, though I don't want to. It started when I was delivered; I was supposed to be named Gniya, but it got complicated. I hoped you would pass me by before you got complicated too. But I fear it is already too late.”

“Maybe we should heed her advice,” Hannah murmured. “We have already had complications enough.”

“What can be so complicated about helping a damsel in distress?” Goody asked. “Did you lose something, Kiya?”

“Yes, my mark-hers. I dropped them, and they rolled off the path. But I am concerned that it's not safe to step off it. Not for me, with my talent. So I was trying to decide whether to risk it.”

Goody looked. There were three pencil-like objects. “Markers?”

“Mark-hers. They mark only women's clothing. We use them so our men don't steal our clothes.”

“We appreciate that,” Goody said. “We recently encountered something similar.”

“No problem,” Hannah said. She squatted and reached off the path toward the mark-hers. But she lost her balance, and fell against Goody, who fell against Kiya. They all wound up in an embarrassing tangle.

“Apology,” Hannah said, quickly righting herself. She fetched in the mark-hers and handed them to Kiya as she and Goody got back to their feet.

“Thank you,” the gnomide said. “Now you should go before another complication starts.”

Then Goody saw that his bag of spells had gotten pulled open in the collision. He quickly drew it closed again, hoping that no spells had escaped.

Too late. Four bears appeared, surrounding him, growling off the others. Four tunes played simultaneously, distractingly. Two new eyes sprouted on his face, providing him four sights. “Bleep bleep bleep bloop!” he swore quadruply.

“Now you're sounding like a real man,” the parody said approvingly. “Worthy of your fourbears, jangles. You look better, too.”

“Get away from me !” Kiya cried. “To protect you from worse. Please.”

Things had indeed become complicated. Hannah picked Goody up and carried him a distance from the gnomide. The bears ran alongside, growling, but tolerated this.

“I'm so sorry!” Kiya called. “But thank you for the mark-hers.”

“You're welcome,” Hannah called back. “We understand.”

They went on, accompanied by the bears and tunes. “Bleep!” Goody swore. “Bleep bloop bleep! I hope some spells remain for when we need them.”

Fourtunately the evoked spells did not last long. The bears, finding nothing to fight, faded out. The foursights, seeing nothing special, reverted to two eyes.

“I think the fourtunes brought you good luck to cancel out much of the rest,” Hannah said. “The music must be a side effect.”

“That's good,” Goody agreed. “Kiya wasn't fooling about complications! That's an awful curse.”

“Almost as bad as being a polite male gob,” the peeve agreed.

Castle Roogna came into sight. “Whom do we want to see this time?” Hannah asked.

“I think not Princess Ida.”

“Maybe the three little princesses will have a suggestion.”

But when they approached the castle, no princesses appeared to greet them. Instead there was an older girl, about fourteen, dark of hair and eye, quite pretty. “Hello, Goody Goblin and Hannah Barbarian,” she said softly. “I am Princess Eve. May I help you?”

“Hi, babe!”

“The bird talks,” Hannah said quickly.

Now Goody saw the golden crown, almost hidden by her flowing hair. “Another princess?” he asked, somewhat dully.

“There are five of us younger ones,” Eve said. “You encountered Grey and Ivy's triplets before, Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm. Dawn and I are Dolph and Electra's twins, five years older. The others are away today, so that leaves me in charge of the castle, as it were.”

“Oh. Uh, we have a problem. There may be danger to Xanth.”

“Then you'll need to see Grandfather Dor. He's the king.”

“Um, maybe we do. If kings see goblins, that is.”

“Or barbarians,” Hannah said.

“He'll see you,” Eve said confidently. “I'll show you in.”

“Just like that?” Goody asked, bemused.

“How else did you have in mind?”

“She sure corked your spout!”

“I like your bird.”

“Oh yeah, darkie? You wouldn't if you knew me better.”

“I'll never know you well enough. That's my sister's talent.”

That stifled the parody for the moment. Hannah picked up the dialogue. “Your sister would be a sorceress?”

“Of course. All of Bink's descendants are magician-caliber talents. Dawn knows all about any living thing she touches. I know all about any inanimate thing. So I can't touch the bird and learn its secrets.”

“Praise the Demon for small favors, blackhead!”

Goody noted with private bemusement that this was the first time he had heard the bird repeat an insult. It had called Breanna or her daughter blackhead. Of course Eve's hair was jet black, so it fit.

Eve turned her head and smiled down at the parody. Its knees went rubbery (it had knees?) and it almost fell off Goody's shoulder. Goody knew exactly how that was, as he was at the periphery, not the focus of her expression, yet her dark beauty made his own knees lose cohesion. She was still a girl, but already possessed some of the womanly attributes that would make her dangerous quite apart from her magic or status as a princess.

As they crossed the drawbridge at the moat, a huge green head lifted from the water. “This is Souffle Serpent, our resident moat monster,” Eve said.