Stork Naked (3 page)

The third tree was a considerable contrast. It had a nice ambiance, with many pretty flowers and a sweet smell. She liked it immediately. That was a clue to its nature: what was this nice one?

“Sweet gum?” she asked. The tree did not move.

She hadn't really thought it was that anyway. This tree was amiable throughout. What would perfectly describe that?

Then she had it. “Pleasant Tree!” It vanished. She was almost sorry to see it go; she had really liked its company.

The next tree was another contrast. It seemed to have been burned. Its trunk and leaves were gray and flaky, as if the fire had been so sudden it had consumed all the living substance without affecting the form. All that was left was ashes.

A bulb flashed. “Ash Tree.” And it departed.

She was developing a channel through the thick forest. The trees were tight on either side, but she had eliminated four in the center. She was getting the hang of this.

The next tree had normal bark and leaves, but its fruit consisted of an assortment of what seemed to be caged propellers, all of different design, and colorful oblongs. She had never seen anything like this, and had no idea what it was.

“Propeller tree?” But she knew as she spoke that that could not be it; there was no pun. Things without puns had only dubious legitimacy in Xanth. Anyway, many of the fruits had no propellers; they were more box-like. The tree did not fade.

She reached out very carefully and touched the rim of the nearest fruit. It whirred, dropped to the ground, and buzzed in circles around her before returning to its branch. She touched another, one of the oblongs. This one spread out like the tail of a peacock to display a group of dancing hippopotami whose skirts flared to allow fleeting glimpses of their panties. It was a good thing she wasn't a man; she might have freaked. A third one whirled its blade and produced a series of vile-sounding bleeps. It was cursing!

Surprise paused to ponder further. What were these things? What did they have in common? Only the breeze of their activities, she thought wryly.

Then she got it. They were fans, in the tree. A rotary fan going around her, a fan-tasia showing an ungainly dance, and pro-fan-ity cursing. “In-Fan Tree,” she exclaimed, and it vanished.

But her identification seemed to have set up the next tree, because this one bore fruit that was actually tough little babies in helmets and armored diapers. She recognized it immediately as an Infant Tree, but hesitated to say so lest there be some trick. It was too obvious, and too similar to the last one in name if not nature. “Hello, babies,” she said tentatively.

“Hello yourself, wench,” the nearest baby said. “Don't give us none of that shift.”

That startled her. “You talk.”

“Small talk,” the baby agreed. “Now if you'll get the bleep out of our way, sweetheart, we'll prepare for the march.” He turned his head and bawled “Companee—ten-SHUN!” All the other ten hanging babies snapped to attention.

This was ridiculous as well as annoying. She was looking for a baby, but nothing like these military brats. “Infant Tree,” she said, and it vanished. Maybe the similarity of names had been intended to make her suspect a ruse.

The next tree bore full-grown men and women in scanty costumes that showed too much of their bodies. They hung in pairs of male and female, but were not paying attention to their immediate companions. They were constantly turning in place and eying others of the opposite gender. In fact they were flirting, exchanging secretive smiles and glimpses of flesh. It seemed they preferred any partners but their own. Surprise was disgusted. Where did these folk think they were, Mundania? Xanth wasn't like this.

But her Challenge was not be be judgmental but to name the tree. It seemed to be the last one, and vanishing it would clear the way through. So what could it be? A Grownup Tree? A Cheater Tree? Those weren't suitable puns.

The people started swinging on their branches, the couples going in opposite directions. The swings became larger, so that they were almost touching their closest neighbors. In a moment, certainly no more than a moment and a half, they would start connecting. Then they were all too likely to do things the children shouldn't see.

A guy reached out and caught the hand of a gal. They drew each other together. She kissed his face while he grabbed her bottom. Surprise heard the children behind her giggling naughtily. The situation was desperate.

Then it came to her with an ugly flash. “Adult Tree.” It wasn't a perfect pun, but it worked, and the tree faded out. The way into the castle was clear.

“Come on, children,” Surprise called. “We're going in.”

“Aww,” Ted said, “I wanted to see what those swingers did when they got together.”

“After they kissed and groped,” Monica agreed.

“And tore off their clothes,” the peeve added helpfully.

Exactly. She had acted just in time.

They were now at the entrance to a comfortable room. A woman stood there. Did she represent the third Challenge?

“Hello,” Surprise said, uncertain what else to do. Politeness always seemed best when in doubt. “I am Surprise Golem, and these are my charges, Ted, Monica, and the pet peeve.”

“I am Ann Serr,” the woman said. “I have answers; what are the questions? All of you must respond.”

“All? But this is my Challenge, isn't it?”

“If they are to enter the castle too,” Ann said firmly.

Surprise sighed. Things just kept complicating. “I suppose,” she agreed reluctantly.

Ann looked at Ted. “Ida Moons.”

That baffled Surprise. How could Demon Ted ever figure it out?

“Aw, that's easy,” the boy said. “What does Princess Ida do when out of sorts?”

He had gotten it! Surprise masked her relief, knowing more was coming.

Ann looked at DeMonica. “Comes the Dawn.”

“What does Princess Eve say when her traveling twin sister returns?” Monica asked immediately.

Ann looked at the peeve. “Gross Prophet.”

“Who is that huge fat guy dispensing ugly driblets of the future?” the bird asked without hesitation.

Ann looked at Surprise. “Thesaurus.”

She knew what a thesaurus was, she thought: a big book of words. But it surely wouldn't do to ask what was the name of such a tome; there needed to be a pun. She couldn't think of any. What an irony: the others all got their questions readily, while she was stuck.

Suppose she failed to find the question? What would she do then? She would have to take the children back, of course, delivering Monica to Nada Naga and Ted to the demoness Metria. But she would lose her baby. That was too horrible to contemplate.

Something nagged at a loose corner of her mind. Metria—what was there about her? Her constant mischievous curiosity about human events, her messed-up words—

A bulb flashed. She had it! “What ancient reptile gives Demoness Metria her many wrong words?” she asked aloud. And of course the answer was the thesaurus.

Ann Serr was gone. Surprise had handled the third Challenge and was free to enter the Good Magician's castle. “Come along, children,” she said briskly, as if this were routine.

Wira appeared. She was Humfrey's daughter-in-law and was the chief castle guide though she was blind. “Hello, Surprise,” she said. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

So she knew. “Thank you, Wira. I do not intend to lose my baby. That's why I'm here.”

There was a look almost of pity in the woman's blank eyes. “Please come this way. The Gorgon has cheese and cookies for the children, along with tsoda pop.”

“The Gorgon?” Surprise knew of her, of course, but had never actually met her.

“She is the Designated Wife this month. She likes children.”

Oh, right: the man with the blue nose had mentioned her, so of course she was here. The woman with the devastating countenance but nice nature.

They entered the guest room. Assorted pastries and cheeses were already laid out, with pitchers of pop. There was even a perch for the bird, with a variety of colorful seeds. They had evidently been expected.

“Half a greeting, stoneface,” the peeve said. “When did you get your burgeoning butt out of Hell?”

“The same time you got your tainted tail out, pigeon poop,” the Gorgon replied. “How's your fowl-mouthed beak these days?”

The children tittered. It was clear that the bird and woman liked each other. They had indeed known each other in Hell, and the Gorgon had rescued the bird and brought it back to Xanth.

“I will notify the Good Magician,” Wira murmured as Ted and Monica dashed for the goodies and the peeve flew to the perch.

The Gorgon was a tall, stately matron with myriad little snakes in lieu of hair and a veil over her face. This was to stop her from stoning all those who gazed on her visage. Surprise remembered that at one time the Good Magician had made her face invisible, but it seemed that folk found that more disquieting than the veil. “So good of you to come, dear,” she said to Surprise.

“It's not a social visit,” Surprise said tersely. “I have to recover my baby.”

The Gorgon did not comment. “Have some cheese. This is Gorgonzola; I stoned it lightly myself.”

“Thank you.” Then things abruptly caught up with her, in this moment of relaxation, and Surprise burst into tears.

“I would comfort you if I could,” the Gorgon said. “But I fear there is worse to come. Humfrey tried to discourage you from coming. I'm sorry.”

Surprise stared at her. Worse than losing her baby? The Gorgon had been to Hell and back; she surely knew. But the shock stiffened her resolve. “I will handle it.”

“Meanwhile, which binding do you think looks better for this volume?” The Gorgon indicated a fat but coverless book on a separate table, beside a pile of colored covers. “It's a dyslexicon.”

“A what?”

“A dictionary of words spelled backwards. Some of our visitors are backwards, so I use this to translate. It unclutters Humfrey's library a bit. But I want a tasteful cover on it.”

Surprise looked at a sample page that was open. NOGROG-Gorgon. The woman had been checking her own entry, understandably. “Maybe a confusing shade of gray?”

“Very good,” the Gorgon agreed, and stared hard through her veil at a black wrapper. Daunted, it faded into a confusing shade of gray, and she put it on the book. “A confusing cover for a confusing book. Thank you.”

“She was just lucky guessing,” the peeve said.

“You're almost as grumpy as Humfrey,” the Gorgon said, amused. “Maybe that's why I like you, Sickly Green.” To Surprise she added: “The peeve does have a redeeming quality, though it would rather be roasted on a spit than admit it.”

Wira reappeared. “The Good Magician will see you now.”

Surprise followed Wira up the curving narrow stone stairway to the dark crowded chamber that was Humfrey's office. The gnomelike man was sitting at his desk, poring over a huge tome. That would be his fabled Book of Answers.

“Surprise Golem is here, Magician,” Wira murmured, and faded back.

Humfrey looked up. “Give over, girl. This is not for you.”

“You haven't even heard my Question!”

“I am not answering your Question. I am giving you apt advice. You have no idea how ugly the situation is. Go now, without pursuing this matter further.”

She glared at him, her astonishment shifting toward outrage. “The bleep I will! I want my baby. How do I recover it? That's my Question. I'll perform your year's Service. Give me your Answer.”

The Magician shook his head. “You will not be sensibly dissuaded?”

“I will not be,” she agreed grimly.

“There will be no Service as such. The mission is more than sufficient.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will, in time. You are quite certain?”

“Yes.”

“Then go to the Stork Works. Che Centaur will accompany you. He knows the way, and has a pass to enter.”

“As soon as I return the children and peeve to their homes,” she agreed eagerly.

“No. They must go with you.” Ted and Monica appeared, evidently done with the Gorgon's refreshments.

“They can't! If there is danger—”

“Their parents have already agreed, knowing the stakes.”

“That's impossible! They don't even know their children are here.”

Humfrey snapped his withered fingers. “Parents, show yourselves.”

The demons Vore and Metria appeared. “We learned while you were tackling the Challenges,” Vore said. “My wife Nada knows and reluctantly approves.”

“My husband Veleno says it's up to me,” Metria said. “My referee.”

“Your what?” Surprise asked.

“Reference, judge, arbiter, umpire, determination—”

“Decision?” Surprise asked.

“Whatever,” the demoness agreed crossly. “It has to be done. But I insist on coming along.”

“No,” Humfrey said.

“Listen, gnome-butt, that's my son going into dreadful danger. You can't deny me my protective bent.”

“Your what?” Humfrey asked tiredly.

“Talent, faculty, genius, flair, gift, inclination, aptitude, knack—”

“Instinct?”

“Whatever, grump-face. I insist. After all, it's my turn; I never got to see the unclear missives of the Howl of Oinks.”

“That's the nuclear missiles of Cuba, Mundania,” Humfrey said. “And they weren't in the Bay of Pigs.”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.

“Demoness, only two adults can go on this mission, and they are already accounted for. The rest must be children, animals, mixed-breeds, or other. You do not qualify. Physically, if not mentally or emotionally, you are single-species adult.”

Metria considered half a moment. Then she vanished, replaced by a soulful big-eyed little girl in a tattered patchwork dress. “I am Woe Betide,” she said. “A pitiful five-year-old orphan waif.”

Ted and Monica sniggered. They had seen this coming.

Humfrey glowered down at Woe. “Are you sure you want to invoke this loophole, demoness?”

“O, yes, your Awesome Grumpiness. I am just a poor brave little match girl with matches that give folk their hearts' desires.” She produced a box of matches. “Shall I strike one for you, to make you less grumpy?”

He ignored that. “And you won't revert and renege the moment I am out of sight?”

“Never, O Auspicious Ancient.” A little halo appeared.

The children's sniggers became stifled snorts. They loved seeing the auspicious grump get teased in his own lair. Metria was pun-intended matchless at annoying folk in any of her guises.

The Good Magician uncorked a small vial and let its swirling candy-colored vapor waft out. “So be it. Remain as you are, for the duration, match child.”

All sniggers and snorts were abruptly stifled.

Woe looked alarmed. “Oops! I smell a stasis spell.”

“That will keep you as you are for the duration, as agreed,” Humfrey said with grim satisfaction. “You weren't going to renege anyway, so it makes no difference, does it, waif?”

“No difference,” the tyke agreed woefully.

“There remains the peeve,” Surprise said. “It may be obnoxious, but shouldn't be thrust into danger.” As she spoke, the disreputable bird appeared.

“Keep your yap shut, woman,” the peeve said politely. “It can't be as dull as Hell.”

“The centaur awaits you,” Humfrey said, returning his tired gaze to the tome. They had been dismissed.

Sure enough, Che Centaur was appreciating the Gorgon's half-stoned cheese. He was a handsome winged stallion. “I did not realize that I was to have Companions on this dangerous quest,” he was saying as they entered the room.

“A nice young woman, three naughty children, and an irascible bird,” the Gorgon agreed.

“But that's ridiculous! This is not a mission for innocents.”

“Who are you calling innocent, hoof-nose?” the peeve demanded. “I have served in Hell.”

“And soon wore out your welcome there,” the Gorgon said fondly.

The centaur turned and saw them, recognizing them all instantly. “Oh, my. Surprise, you do not belong with this motley crowd.”

“The stork took away my baby,” Surprise replied evenly.

Che nodded. “Now I understand.”

“Well, I don't. What is so dangerous about going to the Stork Works to demand that they correct their mistake and give me my baby?”

“Your baby has probably gone to the same place the Simurgh has. Otherwise the Good Magician would not have put us together. He demanded no Service?”

“No Service,” she agreed. “How did you know?”

“Because the mission is the Service, and it is extremely disproportionate to the Answer.” He frowned. “Surprise, you are such a nice girl, this is hardly fair to you. You must decline.”

“Never!”

“I feel guilty, but I can certainly benefit from the support of your myriad talents. Yet your chances of recovering your baby may be unconscionably slim.”

“Why? Why is everyone so negative? What is it I don't know?”

“Let's get on our way to the Stork Works, and I will explain,” Che said with regret.

They assembled outside the castle. Che had saddlebags full of the Gorgon's cheese and cookies, guaranteed to keep the children and bird occupied so that the two adults could talk on the way. Surprise transformed into a bare-breasted centaur mare and carried Monica and Woe Betide on her back, while Che carried Ted and the peeve. She pretended that she felt perfectly at ease, as centaurs had no shame in being natural, as they put it, but she did feel awkward without clothing. Suppose someone stared at her front? In fact Ted was already doing so, the nasty boy.

They nicked their tails to make themselves and their riders light, spread their wings, and took off. In two and a half moments they were flying high above the forests and fields of Xanth. This was fun, actually, though Surprise knew she would not be able to become the same kind of centaur again unless she fathomed a different spell to accomplish it. She was glad she was flying beside Che, who knew the way, because she would probably have gotten lost at the outset. She was not used to flying, having saved her abilities for future need. Now that future had arrived.

Che wasted no time in incidental discourse. “As you know, I tutor Sim Bird, the Simurgh's chick. Thus I am privy to aspects of the Simurgh's existence that may not be generally known.”

“I know Sim is guarded by Roxanne Roc, so is quite safe,” Surprise said. “His destiny is to learn everything in the universe. He is a very smart bird.”

“True. But now he has a task for which he is as yet unprepared. He has to watch over the universe.”

“But that's the Simurgh's job. It will be centuries or millennia before Sim takes her place.”

“The Simurgh has disappeared.”

Surprise flew several wingbeats before that registered. “She deserted her post? She wouldn't do that.”

“Not voluntarily. But she is gone. It is my task to locate and rescue her.”

That was daunting indeed. “Do you know where she is?”

“In a general way, yes. And that, I fear, is where your baby went. The Good Magician knows. I asked for his help, knowing that I could not manage it on my own, and he said I would have capable if unusual Companions. I never suspected they would be you and the children. I suppose Metria could help if she chooses.”

“No. She is locked into her Woe Betide aspect. I'm not sure how much demon magic the waif can do.”

“I have matchsticks,” Woe called helpfully.

“Small magic,” Che agreed as the waif lost interest. “Ted and Monica will be more capable. As for the peeve—unless we require the aggravation of assorted monsters, that's a serious liability.”

“The Good Magician must have reason.”

“He always has reason,” Che agreed. “But this seems even more deviously obscure than his usual.”

“Just where is the Simurge, in general terms?”

“In an alternate universe. An unfamiliar one.”

Surprise's mind balked. “An alternate what?”

“There are perhaps an infinite number of realities,” Che explained. He was very good at explaining, being a tutor. “Each is much like the realm we know, but not identical. One may be the same as the familiar Xanth, but have one different character. There might be a Surplus Golem instead of a Surprise Golem, for example, able to do half the available talents, each one twice. Yet it seems that little differences can rapidly become big ones. A difference of a single grain of sand might in a thousand years lead to a remarkably different Xanth. There may also be convergent evolution.”

“You just lost me.”

“I apologize. I explained the concept some time ago to Sim, and forget that it isn't generally known. Suppose that ancestral horses and humans interbreed and in time produce centaurs. Suppose that ogres and unicorns interbreed, and in time evolve to become very similar to centaurs, so that it is hard to tell the two species apart.”

“They're converging,” Surprise said, getting it.

“Evolving and converging,” he agreed. “They are not the same, but seem very similar. So some of the alternate Xanths may be less similar to ours than they appear. It may be a devious situation.”

“And the Simurgh is in one of those similar-seeming Xanths?”

“Yes. That much we know. It is a small subset of a very large picture. Unfortunately we don't know exactly which one.”

“Why not check them all? How many are there, half a dozen?”

“Half a million dozen, perhaps. The prospect is daunting.”