Pet Peeve (27 page)

Oh. He was back in real Xanth, lying beside the gourd. He must have been there an hour, and it was time to take a break.

“Thank you. I have almost found her. She's the last lost thing. I'm on the way to meet her at Lost and Found.”

“Good for you. Do you want another hour now?”

“Yes!”

“But first eat a bite, drink a gulp, and see about nature. You might be there some time.”

It made sense. He did those things, then settled down again by the gourd.

Goody was back on the Lost Path, relieved to see that the yellow line remained. He had understood that a person always returned to the place in the dream realm that he had left, but he hadn't been quite sure. It was probably set up that way to prevent folk from escaping bad dreams before they ran their full course, but for him it was convenient.

He came to a brown dog that looked lost, as was natural on this path. It seemed sad, so he paused, though he was in a hurry to reach Lost & Found. “Hello, brown dog.”

The canine gazed at him mournfully. Evidently it wasn't a talking animal.

“You are lost,” Goody said. “Is there a reason?”

The dog nodded. Good; it understood him.

“You have forgotten where you live?”

The dog shook its head no.

“Where you are going?”

A mix, neither yes nor no.

“What breed you are?”

The dog nodded. That was its problem: it didn't know its assignment in dreams, because they were surely specified by species. Once it remembered that, it should know where to go, and would no longer be lost.

Goody sniffed. He smelled chocolate. “You're made of chocolate!” he said.

The dog nodded.

“You're a chocolate lab!”

The dog nodded, licked Goody's face with a chocolate tongue, and bounded happily away.

Goody continued—and found another dog. This one was long and low, with stubby legs. Steam rose from its body; it was obviously quite warm. He would burn his hand if he tried to pet it.

He didn't hesitate. “You're a hot dog!”

The dog bounded away. Goody felt good; he liked helping creatures.

Now at last he came to a shelter marked LOST & FOUND. And there was Gwenny Goblin.

He ran to her. “Gwenny!”

She turned and saw him. “Goody!”

They came together, like Trojan and Helen, embracing and kissing. “I'm so glad you're alive and safe,” he said.

“I'm so glad you found me. I left notes, hoping you'd find one. If you thought to check the dream realm.”

“I did,” he said. “And did.”

“I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it all.” But then he suffered an awful thought. This was the realm of dreams, where things were not necessarily what they seemed to be. Was this really Gwenny, or was it someone or something else emulating her, to lead him astray? He did not want to be fooled; he had to be sure of her. Because a fake would cause him to stop the search, and maybe really lose her when he might have saved her. “Gwenny—”

“You're not sure I'm real,” she said. “For all that we're both dreaming. And I'm not sure you're real, either.”

“Yes. How can we prove to each other that we are who we claim to be?”

“We could compare memories from before we got separated. Is there anything that only the two of us know about each other?”

“I can think of one thing, but—”

“And if one of us is genuine, and the other is fake, what would that mean about our constancy to each other?”

“Actually, we are both experienced adults,” he said.

“I'm not.”

“Yes, you are. We—”

She blushed. It was far redder in her dream state. “Apart from you, I'm not.”

“But you were so—”

“Because you were. I pretended I was your wife. That made it easy. Otherwise—well, never mind.”

Goody found that immensely flattering. But it was beside the point. A demoness like Metria could surely be more apt in that respect than any mortal woman. And while she was diverting him, the real Gwenny might be suffering or dying. So it was no good as a test.

Then he thought of something. “On Iron Mountain I happened to see the twin princesses running. It nearly freaked me out. I bet you could run just as nicely. Show me that you can.”

She looked crestfallen. “Oh, Goody, I wish I could do that for you! But I can't.”

“Can't or won't?”

She reconsidered. “Then again, this is the dream realm. Maybe I'm not limited the same way. So if you really want—”

“No need. I accept your identity.”

“Yet if I can do it here, it's no test.”

“A fake Gwenny bent on seduction wouldn't have hesitated. She wouldn't have known about your knee.”

She nodded. “This is the first time I have appreciated my lameness. But I still need to verify your identity.”

“And I'm not lame.”

Then a little bulb flashed over her head. “Goody, whom do you love best?”

He paused. “You mean, among living women?”

“I accept you,” she said, and kissed him.

Because she knew of his lingering love for Go-Go. A fake wouldn't have hesitated to reassure her that he loved Gwenny best.

“Then we have verified each other,” he said. “Yet it reminds me of the time Hannah was transformed to the likeness of Go-Go, and I wanted to—” He shrugged, embarrassed.

She put her hand on his. “I understand, Goody. I really do, especially now, and I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. You hadn't met me yet; Hannah is the one who safeguarded you so that you could come to me.” She led him to chairs in the Lost & Found pavilion. Even in the dream state, she was wary of staying on her feet too long. “But now we need to talk.”

“Of course. I need to know where you are, where the robots have you, so we can rescue you.”

She sat opposite him, her skirt showing her legs to advantage, surely by no coincidence. “It's more complicated than that, Goody. I think it best if I tell you the whole story, so that you'll understand.”

“You're hurt?” he asked, alarmed.

She smiled. “No, not hurt. But something has changed, and I'm not sure you'll accept it if you don't have the background first.”

“You love someone else?”

“Oh, come on, Goody. If I did, would I do this?” She leaned across, giving him a startling peek down her blouse on the way to kissing him.

He remained alarmed. “But something's wrong.”

“Not wrong. Just complicated. The others may not readily understand.”

“What's so difficult to understand about rescuing you from the robots?”

She kissed him again. “Now be quiet while I tell you.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I was going from section to section, exhorting the troops as they battled ever greater concentrations of robots. One group was being pushed right out of formation, to the very edge of the Mountain Lake. Goblins can't fight very well in water. So I—”

Her narrative broke off. Because she was gone.

Goody stared at the empty chair, appalled. What had happened? How could he lose her so abruptly after just finding her?

He stepped out of the pavilion, searching for her. Wafts of mist had formed around it. As he forged through one he became extremely negative; he had lost her and was never going to find her again. Then he passed through another waft, and felt far more positive; of course he would find her.

Then he remembered his spot return to the waking state, when Hannah had broken his connection to the gourd's peephole. Gwenny would have set up a similar interruption, so as not to get locked in forever. She had been returned to her natural state. Soon she should return, to the same place she had been when she left the dream realm. That was the way of it.

Sure enough, after several long moments and a few nervous instants, she reappeared. “Sorry about that, Goody. I'm set for an hour at a time, and I had been waiting for you for a while before you found me.”

“I understand. It happened to me on the way here. I was really concerned, before I realized, especially as I walked through the mist.”

She looked out of the pavilion. “The pessimist, the sad fog,” she agreed. “I ran afoul of that too. But then the happy fog optimist restored my confidence.”

“Exactly.” They kissed.

“Where was I?”

He smiled. “You were providing me peeps up your skirt and down your blouse. To keep me quiet while you talked.”

“Of course.” She adjusted both to make sure they provided just the right amount of peep. Girls were good at that, especially in dreams. “I meant in my narrative.”

“Your troops were being driven to the edge of Mountain Lake. You were afraid they'd be in trouble in the water.”

“Thank you. I actually ran into the water to help a goblin get out. But a robot was pushing forward, and when my goblin moved clear, the robot charged into me. We became entangled and staggered together deeper into the lake.” She paused. “You know, here in the dream realm we should be able to make a dream scene. Let's see if I can animate it.”

Goody hadn't thought of that. What better place for a dream, than in the dream realm? Or more properly, a dream within a dream.

A bubble appeared over her head, like the flashing bulb, only without the flash. It expanded at a moderate rate, becoming as big as her head, then larger. It looked like a balloon, only open, so as to be seen inside. Now Goody saw that it contained a picture, with blue sky above, green water below, and a confusion of things in the middle.

The floating picture expanded further, as Gwenny got the details filled in. The cluttered center was brown land, and a lake bank, with a gang of goblins facing out from the water, and a roll of robots pressing in from beyond. The goblins had stout little clubs with which they banged the robots, denting their surfaces. The robots just had their arms, but those were iron, and dented the goblins just as badly when they connected.

Then a lovely lady goblin chief appeared. “Beware of the water!” she cried, catching a goblin by the arm and pulling him to the side. He moved as directed, and the robot he had been engaging lurched forward, crashing instead into the gobliness. They wrapped their arms around each other, trying to recover their mutual balance, but both were staggering farther into the lake.

Then they lost their footing and plunged over a nether ledge. It turned out that the bottom of the lake was not flat after all, but slanted toward the center. Still embraced, they slid down a steep bank, bubbles rising from her exhaled breath and its combustion chamber. They were drowning!

The slippery bank took them down well below the surface. The gobliness might have swum back to the shore, but she was snarled with the robot, which was much heavier. So both continued down, until at last they dropped off an overhang and landed before a rocky outcropping. Gwenny—for of course she was the gobliness—saw it, and struggled to get under it, dragging the inert machine along with her. It seemed its metal wasn't as heavy in the water, so she was somehow able to move it. But her hope of climbing back to the surface of the lake was remote; she was about to drown.

Then the space under the ledge became dimly visible. It was the opening of a cave that slanted up under the bank. There was air in it! Somehow Gwenny dragged herself and the robot into that air, so she could breathe again. She collapsed panting on the sand.

The walls of the cave glowed with fungus, outlining it; that was why it was visible. There was a small assortment of other things there, evidently washed or crawled in some time before. One was an old pot with a crack in it, probably thrown away. Another was what looked like a separated animal tail. Another was a sick bird that seemed to belong to the letters species; this wasn't a C-gull, but more like an E-gull. Another was what looked like a little pile of netting, that smelled fishy. And there was a hypnogourd.

Goody paused, reflecting. He was watching Gwenny's dream image of her memory of recent events. How was it he could smell it? Well, there could be smells in dreams, and sounds, as well as images. He stopped questioning it.

After a time Gwenny roused herself. She was sorely bedraggled, but seemed intact. Even with her clothing stuck on her and her hair matted, she looked lovely.

Where am I? she thought. He was able to receive her thoughts too. Well, why not, in her dream?

She looked about. “A crock pot,” she said, spying it.

“No, I'm cracked,” it replied. “I am now a crack pot. I'm crazy.”

“Not if you can still be used.” She picked it up and carried it to the edge of the water at the front of the cave. She dipped it half full, then heaved it to a dent in the sand. She scrounged for dry see-weeds, piling their dessicated eyeballs around its base. Then she found a chip of firewood and used it to light a small fire.

“Oh, that feels good,” the pot said. “I hope I don't leak on the fire and put it out.”

“Your crack goes down only halfway,” she reassured it.

“So am I half crocked or half cracked?”

She kissed its rim, which become more brightly burnished. Goody knew how that was, too. “You're wholly useful.”

Then she pulled off her sopping clothing and dumped it in the pot for a washing. Goody's eyes threatened to freak out, but he reminded himself of two things: first, he had seen her bare before, so should be partway immune to freaking. Second, this was a dream within a dream, so its effect should be doubly diluted. He could look at her without freaking. He hoped. Still, it was a close call when she pulled off her black goblin panties and added them to the mix.

Gwenny, waiting for her washing to cook, explored the rest of the cave. “What are you?” she asked the sick E-bird.

“Oh, I'm illegal,” it replied. “You don't want to associate with me.”

“I didn't quite hear that.”

“I am an ill E-gull,” the bird repeated carefully. “You might catch my disease.”

“Nonsense. Goblins don't get bird illnesses. Let's see if I can help you.” She went to the pot and fished out her panties, which were now steaming. She used them to wash off the bird's feathers, beak, and feet. The encrustations on the bird fell to the sand. They looked like little B's. “I think you were just B-fouled,” she said. “You're clean now. How do you feel?”

“Much better,” the bird said. “In fact now that those awful letters are off, I feel like an eagle.”

Goody realized something about Gwenny: she was compassionate. She was helping things and creatures, just because they were there. He liked that.

She shook the remaining B's off her makeshift cloth and returned it to the pot. She picked up the severed tail. “I'll tell! I'll tell!” it cried.

“Tell what?” she asked it, surprised.

“Whatever bad things you're doing, you naughty girl.”