Roc And A Hard Place (16 page)

“Oh.  So if I leave the aisle, I'd better not speak.”

“Correct.  Your first words would give away your alien origin.  That will not be a problem for Metria, who can't depart the aisle, or Arnolde, who carries it with him.  But you will have to be cautious.”

“In fact, I'd better not stray unless I really have to,” Jenny concluded.

“That is my opinion.  And the same surely goes for your cat.”

Jenny considered that.  “I'd better put him on a leash,” she decided.  “He won't like it, but I don't want us both getting hopelessly lost in Mundania.”

“A sensible precaution.”

They turned and returned to the aisle.  They had not gone far, but there was no doubt that Jenny had been operating well enough outside the aisle.  As she crossed back into it, her ears pointed again and her hands (and surely her toes too) diminished to four digits per appendage.  A thumb and three fingers.  The magic to the World of Two Moons did not apply to Mundania any better than that of Xanth did.

“Now we must travel,” Ichabod said briskly.  “Since we do not know the address, we shall have to be guided by the summons token.  I hope we can proceed without further procrastination.”

“Yes, let's move,” Metria said.

Ichabod put a crate down behind his truck-vehicle, and Arnolde mounted this carefully and stepped up into the back of the truck, which had now been fitted with high sides, Jenny joined him there.  Metria was about to do the same, but Ichabod stopped her.  “I must have you in front to direct me, Demoness.”

“Oh.  Right.” She watched him get into the enclosed front portion of the vehicle, then popped into the seat beside him.

“Perhaps it would be better not to move that way,” Ichabod suggested.  “We do not want to attract undue attention to ourselves.”

“Oh, that's right—demons don't exist in Mundania,” she said.  “Except as swirls of wind.  I'll watch my manners.”

He took a small key and used it to unlock something on the front side.  But no door opened.  Instead a dragon growled, so close it seemed almost on top of them.  Metria dissolved into smoke, but caught herself before she drifted out of the vehicle.  “What's that?” she asked, re-forming.

Ichabod glanced at her.  His eyes went opalescent again.

“That is the motor starting,” he said.  “Have no concern. But if you don't mind—your clothing.”

Oh.  She kept forgetting.  It was hard to keep such details in mind when such strange things were going on.  She formed the necessary items.

“Understand, I have no objection to your, er, natural appearance,” Ichabod said.  “In fact, I find it extremely appealing.  But I fear I would be unable to drive well with such a distraction, and any other male who perceived your assets would suffer similarly.”

“My what?” she asked, glancing down at herself.  Then she realized that he had not used a bad word.  “You mean if we were alone and nobody else could see, there'd be no problem?” She had a suspicion about the answer.  After all, it wasn't as if she were completely inexperienced with human males.

He seemed to hesitate.  “I, ah, er, um, that is to say, perhaps not, but that seems an unlikely eventuality.”

That was his way of saying that his orbs would burn out.

Satisfied, Metria brought out the Kim token and held it before her.  She was lucky those hadn't been lost when she stepped out of the aisle!  “That way,” she said, pointing as it tugged.

Ichabod reached for her knee.  Curious, she watched his hand.  But it stopped just short, landing instead on the kneelike knob on top of a stick poking from the floor.  He wiggled the stick.  Then he pushed his feet against pedals on the floor.

This was evidently a magic ritual.

The vehicle lurched forward.  Metria held her position, and turned her head back to see how the two in back were taking it.  They were all right; Arnolde must have ridden in this contraption before, and warned Jenny about it.  The two had gotten along very well, ever since discovering that each was isolated from his or her natural species.

“Er,” Ichabod said, glancing at her.

She completed the turn of her head.  “Yes?”

“You just did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree rotation of your head,” he said.  “And then made it three hundred and sixty degrees.”

“So?”

“That isn't done among humans.”

Oh, again.  Of course, mortals had inconvenient anatomical limits.  “You mean I shouldn't do that?”

“It might attract adverse attention which we would prefer to avoid.”

That meant not to do it.  She sighed.  “Mundania is a dull place.”

“I agree emphatically.” Now the truck began to move forward, though he hadn't finished moving his feet or playing with the wheel angled before him.  The craft pulled out onto the road, turned in the direction she had indicated, and gathered speed.  This turned out to be respectable; it was about as fast as a magic carpet.

“How do you make it mind?” she asked.  “You haven't said a word to it.”

He smiled.  “Now, that would be novel:  teaching a Demoness to drive.”

“Why not?”

He considered.  “Why not indeed!  Very well, Metria.  I am making the truck respond not by verbal commands, but by the actions of my hands and feet.  The key turns on the motor, and the levers connect it to the wheels.  I steer it with the steering wheel, here.”

“Fascinating!” she said.  “It's a mindless machine.”

“To be sure.  I must guide it constantly, or it will go astray.”

She asked more questions, and he, evidently flattered by the interest, explained about the obscure mechanisms of clutch, brakes, steering column, driveshaft, and turning signals.  Metria paid close attention.  It seemed that Mundania was not quite as dull as she had thought.  She could have some fun with a contraption like this, if she ever got the chance.

She checked with the token.  It seemed to have no trouble keeping track of its object, though Kim was across a stretch of magicless terrain.  The Simurgh must have seen to that, refusing to let her artifacts be limited by Mundane considerations.  But now it was tugging somewhat to the side.  “We are drifting off-course,” Metria announced.

“That is inevitable, given the limits of the highway system.  I shall have to angle toward it.  Never fear, we shall get there in due course.”

He turned at the next intersection, and turned again when the direction still wasn't right.  It seemed that it was not possible, in Mundania, to go directly where one wanted to go.

So they kept moving, and Metria kept learning about the ways of controlling the vehicle, and at other times gazing out at the changingly dull scenery of the region.

They passed many blocky buildings, and many sections of field between, and sometimes some bits of forest.  Other vehicles prowled constantly, on both sides of the road.  It seemed that each had to stay on its own side, according to the direction it was going, or there would be an awful crash.

At last the tugs on the token got stronger.  “We are coming close,” Metria said.

“Excellent.  We are approaching Squeedunk.  What age is Kim?”

“Nineteen, by now, if folk age at the regular rate in Mundania.”

“Then she is college age.  She could be at the Squeedunk Community College.”

“Community collage?  Do they paste unrelated things together to make a picture?” He smiled.

“In a sense, Metria.  They try to educate juveniles, which may be about as much of an art.”

Soon they came to the SCC campus.  The buildings were large and covered with blue glassy squares.  Young human folk walked between them, carrying armfuls of books.  Some had spread blankets on the flat green sward and were sunning themselves in scant attire.

“They are wearing less than I am,” Metria said, pouting.

“They are less endowed than you are,” he said diplomatically.

“Less whatted?”

“Healthy, curvaceous, symmetrical, proportioned, statuesque, comely—”

“Stacked?”

“Whatever,” he said with a smile.  “You would disrupt traffic and classes, so must mask your assets.”

There was that word again.  “My whats?”

“Charms.  Are we going right?”

She checked the token.  “That way,” she said, pointing to a building.

Ichabod brought the truck around to the parking lot nearest the building.  “I hope she lives on the ground floor,” he said.

“Why?”

“How will we get to her, out of reach of the aisle?”

“Arnolde will have to go in with us.”

“A centaur in Mundania?  Better for you to go naked.”

Metria sorted that out, and concluded that he meant that it wasn't practical for Arnolde to enter the building.  He was probably right.  The centaur wouldn't enjoy the narrow steps and halls and landings Metria could see, and might attract more attention than was wise.  So it would be best if he remained in the truck.

But that meant that the rest of them would have to stay there too.  Except for Ichabod, and maybe Jenny.  Jenny couldn't speak outside the aisle, so it would have to be the man.  “So you fetch her.”

“Men are not allowed in the women's dormitories,” he said.  “It is one of those archaic regulations that still obtain in the hinterlands.” She realized that he was making a funny, but wasn't quite sure about what.

They got out and walked to the rear of the truck.  Arnolde's head and shoulders showed above the high side.  “We have arrived?” the centaur asked.

“At the girl's dormitory.  But we have a problem.  She may be out of reach.”

They discussed it, but before they came to a conclusion, some students approached.  “Xibu't vq, epmm?” a young man called to Metria.

Metria looked at Ichabod.  “This is Mundane speech?”

“Yes.  He just inquired, 'What's up, doll?' He will become intelligible once he enters the aisle.”

“Doll?”

“It is an overly familiar mode of address to an unfamiliar woman.”

“That's what I thought.  Suppose I put on a dragon's snout and bite his head off?”

“I wouldn't recommend it.  We don't wish to make a scene.”

She had been afraid he would say that.  “So how do I squelch this clod of dragon manure?”

“Perhaps I had better handle this.” Then, as the youth reached them, Ichabod said, “Were you addressing my married daughter?” Jenny remained out of sight, so this had to be Metria,

“Oops,” the young man said, abashed.  In three fifths of a moment he was gone.

“That was fun, I confess,” Ichabod said.

A young woman approached.  “Oooo,” she squealed.  “Is that a horse in there?'‘ Metria realized that Arnolde's speckled flank showed through the slats of the side.  “Not exactly,” she said.

“But I'm sure I saw—yes, that's definitely horseflesh!” the girl said, peering through.

Arnolde looked at her from above the side.  “That horseflesh belongs to me.” he said.  “Would you like a closer look?”

Oops!  Metria opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say.

“Oooo, yes!” the girl cried, jumping up and down in her excitement.  Metria knew that did interesting things to her sweater, because Ichabod's eyes were starting to shine.

“Then perhaps I might prevail on you for a favor, first,” Arnolde said.

“Oh, sure!  Anything.”

What was the centaur up to?

“There is a young woman we would like to talk with, but of course, we can't go into the dormitory, being male.  Would you be kind enough to take a message to her?”

“Sure,” the girl agreed, straining to get a better glimpse.

So far she had not been able to make the connection between the horseflesh and the talking man.

“Her name is Kim.  If you take this emerald disk to her, perhaps she will come out here.” Arnolde nodded toward Metria.

Metria was not easy about this, but had no choice but to hand over the disk.

“Emerald?” the girl said.  “But it's black!”

“It has become somewhat corroded with age,” Arnolde said smoothly.

“Oh.” Then the girl made another connection.  “But why couldn't you go in to find her?” she asked Metria.  “You're about as female as I've ever seen.”

“I—I—” Metria said, but stalled almost immediately.

“She has a speech impediment,” Ichabod said quickly.

“Terrible stuttering.  Please don't embarrass her by mentioning it.”

“Oh, sure, no,” the girl agreed.  “Be back in a jiff.” She hurried off with the token.

“Suppose she doesn't take it to Kim?” Metria asked, sincerely worried.

“A summons by the Simurgh will travel only to its proper summonsee,” Arnolde said.  “The girl will not even think of taking it elsewhere.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“I am a centaur scholar.”

Oh.  Of course.  For once Metria wasn't annoyed by the superior certainty of the species.

Soon enough Kim came running out, garbed much as Metria herself was.  She had been a lanky girl, somewhat plain, now she had put on some flesh where it counted and redone her hair, and looked more like a woman.  Especially while running.  “Metria!” she cried, instantly recognizing the demoness.  “What on earth are you doing out here, in civilian clothing?”

“How can I understand her from this distance?” Metria asked.

“Because I turned to capture her in my aisle,” Arnolde replied.

Then Kim reached Metria, and hugged her emphatically.

“I never thought I'd be so glad to see you, Demoness!  But how is it possible?  This is the real world.”

“Do you know of the centaur aisle?” Metria asked.

“Oh, sure!  But that's old history.  There's no longer—”

Then Kim caught sight of Arnolde's head.  “Oh, no!  Can it be?  I thought Arnolde faded away decades ago!”

“Reports of my fadeaway have been somewhat exaggerated,” Arnolde said, extending his hand.

Kim grasped it.  “Oh, marvelous!  This is almost as good as visiting Xanth!  But what—”

“You will visit Xanth,” Metria said.  “I brought you your summons.  You must return with us.”

“But I can't do that!” Kim protested.  “I have classes, homework, obligations—“

“They will have to wait,” Arnolde informed her.  “No one declines a summons from the Simurgh.”

“From the Simurgh?” Kim stared at the black disk.  “I knew there was something really special about this medal.