Pet Peeve (4 page)

“I am not clear why—”

“Because we have a budget, and these are the most effective spells we can spare for this mission. So I'm afraid you will simply have to make do. With luck you won't need to invoke too many.”

“With luck,” Goody agreed weakly.

“But mainly, you will be protected by a bodyguard. We happen to have one who owes the Good Magician a service, and this is the assignment. I'm sure she will be able to get you out of most of the mischief the peeve will generate. So the spells are merely a reserve for when she can't.”

“She?”

“Hannah Barbarian. A very effective warrior, and loyal to her mission in the barbarian manner. With her by your side, you won't even see most of the threats of the wilderness. They will stay clear, knowing better than to mess with her.”

“But I have no desire to travel with a human woman!” Or any woman, he thought, whether goblin, naga, elf, or mer. He was too susceptible to their physical charms, and too unavailable emotionally. That was a bad combination.

Grey looked at him. “Well, you can turn down the mission. That is probably the better course.”

That put him on his mettle. “No, I'll accept her protection. But I doubt she'll appreciate guarding a polite goblin.”

“This is similar in a manner to the problem with the bird. We don't dare allow her to guard a normal goblin male. She would soon feed him to a dragon.”

Goody appreciated the point. He also realized that the threats of the Xanth wilderness were myriad and deceptive, well worth not encountering. “I will try to get along with her.”

“Then it is time to introduce you. I will take along the parody.”

“But it will insult her!”

“Yes. I will have to clarify that aspect at the outset.” Grey held forth his arm, and the silent bird hopped on.

“How is it that such a curmudgeon obliges your wish so readily?”

“It knows we are trying to find it a better situation. The parody is not stupid; satisfy it that a given course is best for it, and it will cooperate readily enough, out of sheer self-interest.”

They made their way to what appeared to be a small arena. A warrior was practicing martial arts there with a wooden mockup. “Kiai!!” it cried fiercely. Smash with a mailed fist. Then violent chopping with a sword, and the dummy flew into pieces.

The figure paused as they approached. From up close Goody saw that it was indeed female, with a metallic halter and skirt, helmet, gauntlets, and spiked boots. The halter was full and the legs well shaped; otherwise it would have been hard to tell the gender.

Wira appeared. “Emergency in the rose garden,” she told Grey urgently. “A querent got lost and stumbled into it, and the roses are slicing him.”

“On my way!” Grey said. “Take the parody.”

Goody took the bird, and Grey and Wire hurried off.

“What have we here?” Goody's voice said loudly. “A man in a skirt!”

Oh, no! The peeve was no longer nulled, and was having at the warrior maiden.

She faced him dangerously. “You can't recognize a healthy feminist activist when you see her? Are your eyeballs clogged?” Now it was apparent that there was long hair piled under the helmet.

“It talks!” his voice exclaimed. “It's alive! Who would ever have believed it? O the horror of it!”

“So,” the maiden said, huffing into a larger size. “A mouthy goblin male.”

“Oh, go chop some more kindling,” Goody's voice said. “You swing like a collapsing wall anyway.”

Hannah's face curled into a grim smile. “Do you know what we do to mouthy goblins where I came from?”

“Hug them and kiss them, honey pie?” Goody's voice asked sarcastically. “You sure couldn't damage them any other way. In case you hadn't noticed, you're not where you came from. No nice knitting needles here.”

She advanced menacingly on him, raising her short sword. “Oh, really? I wonder how far your measly little head will fly from your body?”

“Not far enough to get clear of the smell of you, you stinking sheep in wolf's clothing.”

Goody finally got his mouth open. “Wait! That's not me talking!”

Hannah paused. “You're starting to grovel?”

“You're the one who should grovel, you piece of rotten cheesecake. What a gruesome stench!”

“No, no!” Goody yelled. “I'm not saying it. It's the bird.”

“Blaming it on the bird? What a sniveler!” She lifted her sword high. Its blade gleamed hungrily.

“You're the sniveler,” Goody's voice said. “You're so full of snot it's sniveling on your shoes.”

“Those are warrior boots, goblin. To protect my legs from flying blood.” She took careful aim.

“The bird! The bird!” Goody cried desperately as he backed away. “It's imitating my voice!”

“Are you schizo?” Hannah demanded, her sword quivering in its eagerness to strike. “Make up your mind. Are you a goblin or a bird?”

“I'll give you the bird,” his voice said. “Right up your piddling pink—”

Goody did the sensible thing: he fled.

“Oh no you don't!” Hannah said. “I'll cut you into such small bits they'll never know you existed.” She pursued, taking much bigger steps than he could manage.

There was a set of wooden bleachers set up for spectators of arena events. Goody dived under it, still bearing the bird.

“You can't escape,” Hannah said grimly. She swung at the bleachers. Chips of wood flew as she chopped them apart.

“Nyaa nyaa!” Goody's voice called in singsong. “You can't get mee, you effeminate biddy!”

“Ha! We'll see about that.” She continued chopping. The bleachers were rapidly falling apart under the onslaught. In hardly more than three moments they were a pile of debris.

What could he do? There was nowhere else to hide.

Think outside the box.

Goody flung the parody at her. Startled, Hannah paused. The bird landed on her raised sword-arm and perched there, insolently eying her.

“Are you still here?” Hannah's voice demanded. “Why don't you crawl into the sewer where you'll feel at home, you ridiculous excuse for a goblin.”

Hannah's eyes widened. “I didn't say that.”

“The Good Magician is really scraping the bottom of the barrel to come up with you, you ludicrous imitation of a functioning creature. What made you think you could find your way out of a pigpen, let alone accomplish a quest, you awesomely stupid runt?”

Hannah eyed the peeve thoughtfully. “My voice—spoken by a bird.” She looked at Goody. “This was the case with you?”

“Yes,” Goody agreed, relieved. “That's a pet peeve. It insults everything, using your voice.”

“Shut your face, you loathsome gob,” her voice said.

“And what's your business with me, goblin?” the real Hannah inquired.

“I'm supposed to deliver this bird to a good home. You're supposed to guard me.”

She nodded. “I think I can see why. Take back your bird.” She shook her arm so that the parody had to jump off. It landed neatly on Goody's raised arm.

“About time, you crazy man-hating schemer,” his voice said. “It's a good thing your panties don't show, because they wouldn't freak out anything.”

“I gather you're not a typical male goblin,” she said.

“I am the one polite male goblin,” he agreed. “I always seek non-confrontation. I apologize for inflicting the bird on you, but—”

“I understand. It made you sound exactly like a typical male goblin.”

“That's what you think, you typical petticoat slacker.”

“Exactly,” Goody said. “I can appreciate why you would not want to take on this onerous duty.”

“No, it will be a challenge, now that I know the rules.”

“You mean you'll do it?” Goody asked, amazed.

“The more fool you,” his voice said. “Better to stick to your kitchen.”

“I like challenges,” Hannah said. “I like combat. This promises the best of both. You will certainly need competent protection.”

“I certainly will,” Goody agreed.

“Not that you can provide it, you sissy colleen,” his voice said.

“Just for the record, I'm a feminist, not a man-hater. I believe in female rights being just as important as male rights. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I have a problem with your whole existence,” Goody's voice said. “You're as poor an excuse for a female as this goblin is for a male.”

“Now that's interesting,” Hannah said. “You can insult your companion too? Doesn't that rather give away the ploy? How can others blame him for insulting himself?”

“Oops,” the parody said, its feathers turning pink.

In the momentary silence, Goody answered for himself. “No, I believe in feminine rights. My wife—” He choked off.

“She's assertive?”

“No, not exactly. It was that anything she wanted, I wanted, so there was never a conflict. I wish she could have lived longer. I loved her.”

“You're a widower?”

“Yes.”

“So you're looking for another woman.”

“Never! There could only ever be one Go-Go.”

“But you're wearing a rose.”

“It's a grief rose.”

Hannah considered. “May I touch it?”

“I wouldn't recommend it. Theoretically only the woman I could love can take it. I think that means no woman.”

“I understand. I don't want to take it, just touch it, to verify something.”

“As you wish,” he said with resignation.

She reached out with a finger and lightly brushed the stem of the rose. She winced. A drop of blood fell from her finger.

“Serves you right, tender piece.”

“I'm sorry,” Goody said.

“Don't be. I just verified that it is indeed magic, and that there will be no foolishness about our association.”

Then Goody realized the nature of her concern. She did not want to maintain close contact with a male who might get ideas about her. It wasn't that he would ever, or could ever, force any male attentions on her, but even the idea of such interest could be embarrassing. She was a warrior, but also a very fine figure of a human woman.

“I'm glad we have come to this understanding,” Goody said. “Your concern was sensible.”

“You're a bleeding idiot,” his voice said.

Goody and Hannah laughed together. The peeve was back in style.

“Let's get to know each other,” Hannah said. “My talent is to be deadly accurate with weapons. If I strike with my sword, it will connect exactly where I intend. If I use a knife, it will score. If I use a shield, it will block the weapon of my opponent. This sort of thing is useful for a warrior maiden.”

“I should think so,” Goody agreed. He had just seen her effectiveness with the sword.

“So do you have a talent?”

Goody hesitated, remembering his prior discussion with Magician Grey Murphy. “I—don't know.”

“Come on now. I told you mine.”

“Goblins are supposed to have half talents that can't be used by themselves. But I may be different.”

“Different?”

Grey and Wira returned before he could explain further, concerned about the mayhem that might have happened.

“We're ready to travel,” Hannah Barbarian announced.

“Your two jaws are dragging on the ground, you incompetents,” Goody's voice said. It was very nearly true.

They set off next morning, armed with supplies, weapons, and the parody. “Do we have a destination?” Hannah inquired.

“What kind of language is that?” the peeve demanded in Goody's voice. “You're supposed to be a barbarian. You should be uttering dull monosyllables and scratching your armpits.”

“True barbarians are clean,” Hannah replied equably. “It's the ignorant civilized miscreants who stink, in bodies and language.”

“And not all of them,” Goody added.

The parody gave up trying to insult them, because it was clear that they were no longer fooled. Ruffled, it looked around for some better target.

“But about our destination,” Goody said. “I don't have anything specific in mind. But in a general way, I suspect that the enchanted paths will have mainly busy travelers, not looking for pets. So maybe the less-traveled regions are better. The relative wilderness, as it were.”

“Where they aren't as smart,” Hannah agreed. “Some might even think the baneful bird is cute.”

The peeve ruffled further, but did not comment. It evidently wasn't used to receiving insults itself.

“Where is the most backward wilderness?”

“That would be the Region of Madness,” she said. “That's south of here.”

“South it is.”

They left the path and cut south across field and forest. Goody hoped to find an isolated house, maybe a hermit residence, whose occupant would welcome even the dubious company of a pet peeve. He had more than a suspicion that it would not be nearly that easy.

They found a small path through a thicket. “I don't trust this,” Hannah said. “It looks like a—”

“Well, look at that!” the parody said with Goody's voice. “If it had decent foliage, it might vaguely resemble a tree.”

Goody looked where the path was leading. It was indeed a tree, surrounded by a small greensward. Its foliage consisted of drooping fronds or tentacles. He looked at Hannah. “Tangle tree,” he mouthed silently.

She nodded. This was one of the most dangerous denizens of the vegetable kingdom. Tangle trees lured their prey within range by means of convenient paths, fragrant flower smells, pleasant scenery, and possible shelter from a storm, then grabbed them and consumed them. They needed to get well away from this.

Silently, they turned, hoping to escape before the tree realized that they had caught on. One could never be quite sure how far a tangler tentacle could reach.

“I've seen better strings on a kraken weed,” the parody said loudly. “What a miserable excuse for a mop!”

The tangle tree quivered. Individual tentacles twitched. The alluring perfume intensified.

Goody and Hannah slowly stretched their lifted feet around toward the back. They needed to get out of range.

“And the stench!” the peeve continued. “Did a stink horn die here?”

That did it. Four tentacles flung out, whipping neatly around the arms of Goody and Hannah. They had not after all been quite out of range.

“My turn,” Hannah said grimly. She whipped out her short sword before the vine around her sword arm could prevent it, and sliced through the opposite vine. Then she switched sword hands and severed the first.

Meanwhile Goody was being roughly hauled into the heaving green mass of the tree. “Help!” he cried as more tentacles caught hold of his limbs. Now he saw the trunk of the tree, with its huge wooden mouth and great thorny teeth. Tanglers were carnivorous plants, the pulped bodies of their victims getting digested by the roots.

“On my way,” Hannah said. She forged toward him, whirling her blade.

“Pitiful effort, nymphet!” the parody called.

Mere tentacles flung at the warrior, but she sliced them off as quickly as they neared her. She reached Goody and hacked around him as though demolishing another stand of bleachers. Chunks of tentacle flew out and landed squishily on the ground around him. Then she grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him out of the danger zone. Her hand brushed the gray rose, but it didn't stab her though the tips of her fingers were exposed.

“You beat the tangle tree!” he said breathlessly.

“Fighting tanglers is part of barbarian training,” she said. “But we don't do it for pleasure.”

“And you do a messy job,” the parody said.

“Listen, birdbrain: it was going to eat you too.”

The peeve considered that, and lapsed into grudging silence.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Goody said.

“It's my job, remember? Bodyguard. No thanks to the bird.”

Soon they resumed travel, avoiding the tangle tree. Beyond it was another tree, which wasn't surprising, considering that this was a forest. This one had regular leaves, and was covered with little fruits.

“That looks good,” Goody said, getting hungry. “That looks like gum. It must be a gum tree.”

“Or a variety,” Hannah said. “I'll check.” She picked a piece of gum, put it in her mouth, and chewed. “Better,” she said. “This is a gumption tree. Serve yourself.”

“Gumption? I don't understand.”

“Eat some. You'll see.”

Goody picked a piece of gum and chewed it. It tasted good. Not only that, he experienced a surging courage and feeling of competence. “Gumption,” he agreed, pleased.

They picked a number of gums and saved them for future use, then went on, encouraged. They found a small forest path and followed it.

They encountered a man going the other way. He had orangy hair, and was accompanied by an unkempt mixed-breed dog. “Hello, stranger,” Goody said boldly. “I am Goody Goblin.”

“I am Rusty Human, and this is Mudgeon. He's a cur,” the man said. “Don't touch me.”

“And why not?” Hannah demanded, bridling.

“What makes you untouchable, dumbbell?” the parody demanded.

“That's the bird speaking,” Goody said quickly.

Rusty looked confused, but bore with it. “My talent is to make anything I touch rust,” he said. “A little rust won't kill you, but you wouldn't like it.”

Hannah nodded. “Then we won't touch you.”

“Lucky for you, metalrot,” the parody said. “That goes double for your fleabag mutt.”

Rusty frowned, and the cur Mudgeon growled. “Listen, goblin—”

“It's the bird,” Hannah repeated firmly.

“Don't you believe it, corrosion creature,” the peeve said.

Hannah put her hand on her sword.

Rusty considered her, seeing her armor and weapon, and decided to let it be. He and the dog moved on.

“We've got to stifle that bird,” Hannah said.

“You and who else, doxie?”

“Do you want your scrawny neck wrung, fowl face?”

“You wouldn't dare, beef butt.”

Hannah took a step toward the bird. The parody lurched off Goody's arm and flew up to land on a branch. “And where were you while this sickening slut threatened me, milquetoast?” it demanded. This time its voice sounded like the abrasion of branches rubbing together.

“Remember, it's just a dumb animal,” Goody reminded her.

She nodded. “I almost forgot. I'll tune it out again.”

The peeve flew back to Goody's arm. “That's what you think, harness halter.”

She made a twisting motion with her hands. “I said almost, barf bird.”

The bird decided to let the issue be. For the moment.

They moved on. Soon they encountered another person. This was a thin, stiff woman, who moved in a rather jerky manner. Yet she was quite pretty. Her face was set in a classic mode, and she had lovely hair.

“This bird speaks with my voice,” Goody said quickly. “Ignore it.”

“Hel-lo,” the woman said jerkily. “I am Mary An-nette. I am a life-size pup-pet.”

“String her up!” the parody said.

Mary's head rotated to orient on the bird. “I need no strings.”

“So you say, blockhead.”

“Ignore the bird,” Hannah said. “Unless you'd like to adopt it. Then it would insult everyone but you.”

“I can bring o-ther pup-pets to life,” Mary said, “But I have no use for a nas-ty bird.”

“Well, I have a use for you,” the parody said. “Your face looks like the bottom of a birdcage.”

“I think what you need is a life-size boy puppet to bring to life,” Hannah said.

Mary smiled, somewhat woodenly. “Yes, that is what I need. Thank you.” She walked jerkily on.

“Good riddance, you jerky piece of ash!”

It was getting late, and Goody was tired for more than physical reason. “Why don't we find a place to camp for the night?”

“I'm ready,” Hannah agreed.

They came to a glade with a pool in the shape of a mundane car. “A nice car pool,” Hannah said. “That should do.” She set about chopping branches with her sword, and soon fashioned a comfortable lean-to shelter beside the pool.

Meanwhile Goody checked around the area, and found a nice fresh pie tree. They would not have to eat their backpack supplies this night.

Hannah gathered dry moss and kindling, then struck sparks from a stone with her sword to set it on fire, and built it up nicely. They had hot pies for supper. Even the parody seemed satisfied as it perched on a root and pecked at a pepper pie, because it made no derogatory remarks.

“You're pretty handy with that sword,” Goody said. “I mean, using it to make a fire, though you handled that tangle tree effectively too.”

Hannah hesitated, looking pained. She had removed her helmet so that her hair fell down around her face, framing it rather attractively.

“Did I say something offensive?” Goody asked. “I didn't mean to.”

“Your whole existence is offensive,” the peeve said with its ground-root voice.

“It's not that,” Hannah answered, ignoring the bird. “It's just that I never traveled with anyone before, especially not a goblin, especially not a male. I don't know how to handle a compliment.”

“Don't worry about it, fatal femme. You'll never get another.”

Goody smiled. “I learned how from my wife. No matter what it is, you smile and say thank you. Then you find something nice to say in return.”

“What a load of fresh cow flops!”

“Oh—like a return strike when your opponent tries to cut off your head.”

“Too bad he didn't succeed, you dizzy dame.”

“Similar,” Goody agreed. “I suppose the rules for positive exchanges do resemble those for negative ones. But it is important not to get them confused.”

“That lets both of you out. You're always confused.”

She smiled. “I'll try to keep them straight. Is it too late to respond to your compliment?”

“It is never too late for that.”

“It's way too late!” the bird said petulantly.

She put on a smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“No you aren't, you foolish floozy.”

They finished their meal as dusk came. “I got hog sweaty fighting that tangler,” Hannah said. “I'd better dunk my hide.” She stood and undid her metallic halter.

“Wow!” the peeve said. “A strip tease!”

“Wait!” Goody said. “You can't strip in front of a man.”

She paused. “Why not? You're not much of a man.”

“You said it, sister!”

Goody might have preferred more circumspect phrasing, but didn't care to make an issue of it. “It—it is not considered socially polite to disrobe in company. You're a fine looking woman, and—”

“You're an overstuffed squaw!”

She smiled carefully. “Thank you.”

“I mean, normally women value their privacy.”

“What do you have to be private about, hussy?”

“Oh, do they? They didn't cover that in barbarian school.”

“So men won't get ideas.”

“As if you could ever get an idea, goblin noggin.”

“But you're in grief and have no ideas,” she said. “I checked. That gray rose.” She resumed undressing.

“Still, as a general social rule—”

“Take it off! Take it off, strumpet!”

“I'm not good at social rules. I just like to get the job done, whatever it is.” Now her top was bare. It was spectacular. She started on the bottom.

“I've seen better cones by roadside construction.”

“I should at least turn my back,” Goody said uncomfortably.

“So I can scrub it? All right. Get it bare.”

“Yes, bare your bumbling bones, goblin gook.”

He realized that she was right. There was no reason for squeamishness. She was unconscious of any awkwardness, and he should be too. They were after all of two different species. “I suppose we're like family,” he said. “I need to wash too.”

“For once you're making sense. You both stink like constipated pigs.”

Hannah's hand shot out and caught the bird by the feet. “You're coming too, crow bait.”

“I'll fly away, you feminist garbage,” it threatened with her voice.

She took a long tress of her hair and knotted it about one of the peeve's legs. “I think knot,” she said, smiling. She set the bird on her head.

“I'll poop on your hair!”

“If you do, I'll dive wa-ay down deep to wash it off.”

The parody looked thoughtful and kept its beak (or whatever) shut. The knot on its leg was quite tight.

They both stripped and waded into the water, which was pleasantly cool. Hannah had to go out twice as far as he, being twice as tall. “Yee-haa!” she cried, leaping up and coming down with a great splash. She was indeed barbarian.

“Watch it, harridan!” the peeve exclaimed. “You're wetting me.”

“Oh, like this?” She scooped a handful of water and fired it at her own head. It smacked into the bird, thoroughly soaking it.

The peeve got the message. It ceased protesting. Goody rather admired the way she was handling it. Barbarians evidently had a knack with animals.

Then she waded halfway back, dripping from several rounded points, heading right for him. Goody hoped he had no reason to be alarmed. She dropped beside him and sat on the sand beneath so as to be his height. “I'll do your back now.”

Oh. “Thank you.” He turned away.

“You're blushing, goblin twerp,” the bird said from her head.

Goody hoped that was not the case. His skin was of course goblin dark, but it was possible for a goblin to blush, and his surface was making the effort.

Her hands were strong yet gentle as she stroked, then kneaded his back and shoulders. “Oh, that feels good!” he said.

“Well, it doesn't look good! If you were any scrawnier it would take two men and a bird just to see you.”