Swell Foop (16 page)

"Maybe he can change form," Sim squawked.

"Try this," Becka said, and turned dragon.

Esk tried, but did not manage to change into a dragon.

"It doesn't have to be a dragon," Sim squawked. "It could be to anything else. A crow, an ant, even a plant." But still no luck.

"Or an intellectual talent," Becka offered. "Such as having magical intuition, knowing about things better than others do." But if Esk had that, he didn't show it. "I guess that's limited to women," Becka added intuitively.

"Still, there could be other intellectual talents," Sim squawked. "Like maybe being able to decipher any code." He tried to think of a code that a two-year-old might tackle, but for once his super bird brain failed him. In any event Esk was looking blankly at him, so that probably wasn't it.

"Or to intimidate anything," Smash suggested hopefully. He made an ogre face. A low-flying cloud saw that, and hastily scudded out of the way, intimidated, but Esk just yawned. He didn't seem to be much on intimidation, either way.

"Or to hide anything so not even Jenny's cat can find it," Garnishee screeched.

"Who is Jenny?" Tandy asked.

Oops—Jenny would not exist in Xanth for another three decades. "Just someone with a clever cat," Sim squawked.

"But he's not good at finding things," Smash said. "He loses his marbles all the time."

"Enough of this feline-footing!" Garnishee screeched. "If he doesn't show a talent this instant, I'll kiss him."

Esk gazed at her with horror. Small wonder; it was a dire threat.

"So where's your magic?" the zombie harpy screeched, leaning down over the playpen to kiss him.

"No," Esk said.

"Well, maybe not," she agreed. "Maybe I'll just stroke you with my fowl wing." She stretched forth a wing.

"No."

"Or not," she agreed. "Maybe I'll just tell you a nice nursery story of bloodshed, mayhem, and betrayal. Once there was a sickly sweet pretty little princess who loved a hateful ugly troll who wanted only to butcher and cook and eat her. So she sneaked out—"

"No."

"Well, it's not much of a story, because she escapes, and after that she listens to her parents. Still, it has a nice wrinkle when she falls naked into a den of starving nickelpedes and—"

"No."

"Stop stopping me from telling my story!" she screeched, frustrated. "I haven't even gotten to the part where the harpies catch her and make her clean out their hutches with her tongue, and—"

"No."

"But—"

A lightbulb flashed over Sim's head. "He can say 'No'! That's his talent."

The others looked blank. "Anyone can say no," Tandy said. "It's an easy word."

"But he means it. Try doing something he doesn't like."

"Well, he doesn't like a bath. Of course it hasn't been convenient recently."

"Because he said no," Sim squawked. "Try it now."

Tandy brought out a tub. "Time for your bath, Esk," she said.

"No."

"You're right, it's not time," she agreed. "In fact, it's never time, these last few weeks." Then she paused. "It's true! He's been doing it all along!"

"That could be another reason the tangle tree stopped," Becka said. "Maybe he told it no."

"Yes," Esk agreed smugly.

"We've found your talent!" Smash cried. "And it's a good one." Then he considered. "I wonder if it works to stop other things you don't like, such as being confined in a playpen."

A little bulb flashed over Esk's head. He took hold of the playpen bars again. "No." And pushed on through; they had not been able to balk him.

"I wish you hadn't thought of that," Tandy murmured.

"I'm an ogre. I do stupid things."

"So you do." She kissed him. "Like loving me. I'm glad the night mare brought me to you."

"Me too," Smash agreed. They embraced. Little hearts appeared, circling them. She had evidently forgiven him.

Esk paused in his exploration of the great outside, turning slightly green. He was jealous of too much affection that wasn't shown directly to him. He opened his mouth.

"Better not," Becka said in a singsong voice. "Where will you be, if they stop loving each other?"

Esk thought about that long and hard. Finally he nodded, and went on with his explorations. He forged toward a nettle bush. It readied a nettle for him, but changed its mind when he told it no.

"I think we have repaid them for rescuing us," Sim squawked. "Now how do we get home?"

"You can't just walk home?" Smash asked.

"It was a very devious route," Becka said. "I think we can't return the way we came."

That stumped them, until Tandy thought of something. "How about reverse wood?"

"Well, that does not reverse time," Sim squawked before he thought.

"It reverses things all the time," Smash said. "We have some we use against hostile magic. You are welcome to borrow it."

"I wonder," Becka said, "if it could reverse the Factor's spell."

"Why not?" Garnishee screeched.

"Then again, maybe it wood. I mean would," Sim squawked, reconsidering. "Certainly we could try it."

Smash brought out a little bundle of chips. He carried it carefully by a string so that it did not touch him. "You do have to be careful with this stuff," he said. "You never can tell what it will do. But usually it reverses the effect of magic."

"We'll try it," Sim squawked.

Smash dropped the bag. It fell open, letting chips spread out. They stood around it, then each person picked up a chip at the same time.

Suddenly they were going backward. They were reversing what they had just been doing. Soon they were running backward toward the tangle tree, and getting caught up in it. "!eyb-eyB," Esk cried, waving a chubby arm as the ogre family retreated from the tree. At least, that was the way Sim heard it.

Before (or after) long they were standing before the tree, and then they were back in Castle Maidragon, and Sim was closing the door with his wing. They were back, and the reverse wood was gone.

"We're back," Becka breathed, visibly relieved.

"That was scary," Garnishee said, for once forgetting to screech. "Let's not do it again."

"But I haven't gotten the Ring of Air," Sim squawked. "I can't depart until I have completed my mission."

"Look, you blithering moronic fool of an idiot!" the harpy screeched. "That randy factor changes our bleeping reality every time we open that door! Are you too dim to get the message? DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!!"

Becka nodded agreement. "When Princess Melody and the Dastard opened that door, there was inferno to pay. She lost her soul."

"I remember. I know it is dangerous. But I have to get that Ring."

The girl and the harpy exchanged a look of rare mutual understanding. "Maybe you should get out of range before the next siege," Garnishee screeched quietly to her. "After all, you're responsible for the maintenance of Castle Maidragon."

"And all things in it," Becka agreed. "But I don't think I can desert a visitor in need, especially when his errand is important. So I think I will just have to take the risk, though it terrifies me."

"It scares the undead poop out of me," the zombie harpy agreed. "But what's gotta be done, gotta be done."

Sim realized that these frightened females were in their fashion supporting him. They were showing true courage and honor. He was frightened too, but they were shaming him into courage of his own.

Courage and honor. Suddenly he had a notion. "I think the Random Factor has the Ring of Air," he squawked. "And that all I have to do is take it from him. All I have to do is reach him and demand it. Because I am the designated Ring Holder. I believe I can do this alone, so you ladies need not expose yourselves to further mischief."

"Ladies!" Garnishee screeched derisively. "I'm a harpy! Well, actually, a zombie. Not a lady."

"And I'm a girl," Becka said. "Actually, a dragon. Not a lady."

"It requires more than lineage or age to make a lady," Sim squawked. "It takes character. Both of you are filling the role. But there is no need for you to risk yourselves further. Go elsewhere in the castle while I brace the Random Factor again."

This time they didn't bother to exchange glances. "No," they said almost together. "You may need us."

Sim nodded. "Then I hope I do not bring disaster upon you both. I must brace the Random Factor and take the Ring from him, whatever the cost."

"My turn," Becka said. She opened the door. This time she put her foot in place so that the door could not automatically close.

The Factor was there. He gestured. Sim suffered a moment of disorientation. Then the scene clarified. He was standing in the doorway, his foot bracing it open. The Factor remained in place, unmoving, evidently waiting for them to open the door again, not realizing that it hadn't closed.

There was a squawk behind him. Sim looked—and saw himself, with a crazed look on his beak. Beside him stood Garnishee, looking quite startled.

His foot was in the door? Sim glanced down, and saw a nicely formed human leg with a delicate slipper.
He was in Becka's body!

"I think I know the source of your confusion," he said. "We have exchanged bodies. I am Sim."

"I am Becka," the zombie harpy said.

"I am Garnishee," Sim's body squawked.

"Because Becka had the wit to brace the door open, it can't close," Sim said. "It seems that the Random Factor's actions are triggered by the opening of the door. It can't open because it hasn't yet closed, and the Factor is in stasis. We are for the moment in command of the situation."

"In the wrong bodies!" the harpy body cried.

"I think that can be rectified in a moment. Please, one of you come brace this door open so I can go to the Factor."

They didn't question this. Both came forward and wedged their bodies into the doorway, forcing the door farther open. When Sim was sure it was secure, he removed his—Becka's—foot and walked up to the still figure. "I have come to take what is mine," he said. He looked at the Factor's hands, and sure enough, there was an air-colored Ring on one little finger. Sim used Becka's hands to hold the Factor's hand and pry off the Ring. He put it on his—her—own little finger, where it fit nicely. "Thank you."

"Did you get it?" the harpy body called anxiously.

"I did." Sim approached them. "I am uncertain how to use this Ring, so may fumble at first, but please bear with me." He lifted the hand bearing the Ring. "O Ring of Air, I invoke you," he said. "You command the creatures of air. We are three creatures of air—a harpy, a winged dragon currently in girl form, and a big bird. Return us to our proper bodies."

There was another brief disorientation. Then he found himself jammed next to the zombie harpy, wedging the door open. Before them stood Becka. "You did it!" she said. "But I think I have something of yours." She removed the Ring from her little finger and handed it to him.

"But I don't have a finger," he squawked.

"You have a toe, dummy!" Garnishee screeched.

True. Sim lifted his left foot, and Becka slid the Ring over the claw and onto his smallest toe. The Ring settled comfortably into place, exactly the right size. "Thank you," he squawked.

"Let's just get out of here," Becka said anxiously.

"You two get out; I will hold the door."

They didn't argue. They squeezed by him into the hall. Then Sim squeezed through too, leaving only his foot in place. Then he jerked out that foot, and the door swung closed. They were safe and in their own bodies.

"That Ring has a lot of power," Becka said.

"Yes. And now my portion of this mission is accomplished. I will take the Ring and meet with the others."

"And I'll return to Castle Zombie," Garnishee screeched sadly.

"You don't wish to go?" Becka asked.

"Well, it wasn't much of a life being a harpy, and it's not much of a death being a zombie. All that kept me going was my role as a locator of a Ring of Xanth. Now that's done and I have no further use. Some other zombie will do it once it gets hidden again, so that no living person will know where it is. It was sort of fun being part of an adventure. Now there's nothing."

"You know, you're a winged monster," Becka said. "So am I, in my other form. Sometimes I would like to fly far, like maybe to see my father Draco Dragon, but I can't because that would leave Castle Maidragon unattended. But if there were someone else to watch it—"

"I don't understand," the harpy screeched.

"Yes you do," Sim squawked. "She is asking you to stay here and help guard the castle from intruders. That would be a useful task, so you would have something to give your half-life meaning."

"But nobody wants a zombie nearby." She was plainly touched, as she forgot to screech again.

"Well, maybe I had a little prejudice against zombies," Becka said. "But I have gotten to know you, and we have worked together to help find the Ring of Air. I think I could stand you, and I could use some help. It gets sort of quiet here, between visitors."

"It's never quiet around a harpy!" Garnishee screeched.

"Precisely."

Sim saw that they had worked it out. "I can find my own way back," he squawked.

They escorted him outside. He spread his wings and took off, satisfied in more than one respect.

Breanna of the Black Wave ran to hug Justin Tree as he returned with his Ring. "I got mine; you got yours!" she exclaimed happily. "Now we'll get married."

"I fear not yet," he said.

"Not yet?" she demanded dangerously, a black cloud forming over her brow. "Just as soon as the others return, we'll have all the Rings."

"It seems that there are six Rings of Xanth, and only five members of our party. We will be short one Ring."

"Short one Ring!" she repeated. The black cloud swelled up dangerously, emitting a warning peal of thunder. Castle Zombie shook on its sloshy foundation.

Cynthia Centaur trotted up. "He is correct," she said. "There are six Rings. There must be one more zombie, and none of us can go for a second Ring."

Lightning jags poked out from the cloud. "What zombie?" Breanna demanded, swinging her dark gaze around.

A zombie horse perked up his ears. A dreamlet formed, showing a slightly sloppy speech balloon. "That would be me," the balloon wrote.

"I don't remember you, horserump," Breanna said. "Who are you?"

"I am Palus Putredinus the zombie night colt, knower of the Ring of Void. No Ring Seeker has approached me."

Breanna realized that they had all overlooked the obvious: They needed a sixth person. The job was not yet done. "Do you have any idea who that Ringer might be?" she asked, her cloud dissipating as she accepted the inevitable further delay.

Another speech balloon dreamlet appeared. "Only that this person must be a dreamer, for this Ring controls all dream things."

Breanna looked around. All the others were now present, with their Rings. All looked blank.

"Then I guess it's up to me," she said. "We'll go ask the lord of dreams, the Night Stallion."

"But Breanna, you know you can't seek a second Ring," Justin protested.

She grabbed him and planted a hard kiss on his mouth. Then, as he stood stunned, she answered: "I'm not seeking a second Ring, wood-for-brains. I'm seeking the identity of the sixth Ring holder. That's the one who will seek the Ring of Void."

"But I can't go there," the zombie night colt speech-ballooned.

"Why the bleep not?" she demanded. "It's your bleeping Ring, Putre!"

"That is a moderately complicated story."

"Tell it as we travel," she said. She vaulted onto his back. "If you can't go all the way there, you can at least deliver me to the next-door address." She slapped him on the flank, and he bolted. It was in the equine book of rules that they had to bolt when flanked.

The colt leaped forward. Breanna saw the surprised faces of the others. Then they were gone, as the horse galloped through the forest. That was literal, for he was a creature of dreams; only the fact that he was a zombie made him solid enough to support her, and only because she had a certain authority over zombies.

"It is like this," his dreamlet speech balloon wrote. It was easy to read, because it actually appeared in her head, only seeming to be in front of her face. "Some time back, Mare Imbrium salvaged half a soul, and failed to turn it in to the Night Stallion. This gave her a conscience, and she was no longer able to properly punish sleepers with bad dreams. So she became a day mare, carrying good daydreams, and later a tree nymph."

"I know all that," Breanna said. "Mare Imbri's my friend."

"But perhaps you do not know this: During her tenure as a day mare, bringing nice dreams to good folk, she had a relationship with the Day Stallion and took delivery of a foal. Thus it was that I traveled from the realm of Ptero to the realm of dreams. Unfortunately there is little place for male equines in the dream realm; they are routinely abolished. She tried to hide me, but in time the Night Stallion discovered my existence and struck me with a dream bolt and destroyed my life. But Imbri had given me part of her soul, so I didn't fade out entirely. She really respects the power of a soul. She took my remnant to the Zombie Master, and he not only zombied me, he made me the knower of the Ring of Void. That protected me from further assault. But the Night Stallion harbors a grudge, and should I ever come into his domain, he will strike me again and this time certainly destroy me, and some other zombie will inherit the knowing of the Ring."

Breanna realized that the zombie had a case. "I never knew Imbri had a foal."

"She does not bruit it about, for fear it will bring me mischief. We never thought a need for the Ring would come so soon. Now I must do my duty, but I must try to avoid the Night Stallion."

Breanna pondered, then came to a decision. "No. I'm in a hurry and I need your help, and the Ring Holder will need it too. This mission is too important to let it get hung up because of a hang-up by the Night Stallion. I will try to protect you."

"There is no protection from the lord of dreams. Not for a dream creature."

"This may be an exception. Let's give it a try."

"I am not able to defy you, for you are becoming mistress of zombies. But I fear you are leading me to destruction."

"Well, I hope not. Take me directly to the Night Stallion."

Putre shuddered, but then veered to the side where a hypo-no gourd was growing. He made a special leap, right into the gourd. That seemed impossible, but she saw it happen; they passed right through its expanding peephole. Suddenly they were in some kind of cave—and there before them stood the Night Stallion. She recognized him immediately, though she had never seen him before; he was a magnificent horse of another color.

This was of course a dream, but it seemed uncannily real, the way dreams did. So she dismounted and plunged in. "Hello, Trojan. I am Breanna of the Black Wave. I have come to—"

"What is this miscreant doing here?" Trojan demanded. He seemed to be speaking, but probably he was just projecting his thoughts into her mind. It hardly mattered.

"This is Putre, who brought me here. Leave him alone. Now about my mission—"

"I will destroy him!" The Night Stallion brought his terrible gaze around to bear on the colt.

"No you don't, Trojan!" Breanna said. "I said I'd protect him, and I will. Let him be."

The gaze swung like a cannon to bear on her. She would never admit it, but the Night Stallion was a terrifying apparition. "By what power do you seek to oppose my will in my domain, black girl?"

"By the force of logic, and the need of Xanth," she said more stoutly than she felt. "And by this." She lifted her left hand to show the Ring of Fire on her little finger.

Trojan stared at it. As if in response, the Ring sent out a coruscating little loop of fire.

"That is the Ring of Fire," Trojan said. "How came you by it?"

"It's a long story, Stallion. Why don't you just take my word that we also need the Ring of Void, and let it go at that?"

"Then again, perhaps it is a fake." Trojan swung back to Putre. His eyes turned deadly.

Help,
Breanna thought to the Ring.

There was a cloud of smoke. In a moment it coalesced into the Demon Professor Grossclout. "It is the Ring," the Professor said through his glare. "This girl has important business. Sim Bird is part of it, by leave of his mother and nanny; indeed, he holds the Ring of Air."

Trojan paused, then nodded. The Night Stallion, like all the major figures of Xanth, was sworn to protect and support the Simurgh's chick. "So I see. I will postpone this matter for the duration."

"Thank you." Grossclout faded out.

Breanna was impressed in spite of herself. Evidently the Demon Professor had been watching, or was attuned to the Ring of Fire, or both. Certainly he had made the difference; no one had ever defied him and survived to speak of it. Except maybe D. Metria, but she didn't count.

"So what is your business?" the Night Stallion inquired, suddenly ignoring Putre.

"The Demon Earth has been abducted, we think, and we need to get the Swell Foop to rescue him."

The dark horse gazed at her for more than an instant. "You already have the other Rings of Xanth?"

"Yes. One person per Ring. But we need to find out who is to go after the Ring of Void, and we think you are the one who will know."

"This may be complicated. You were supposed to have six persons in your Ring group."

"We forgot," Breanna said, embarrassed.

"Normally you would fetch the Six Rings of Xanth, then select one of your number to fetch the Foop."

"We'll still do that, once we have the sixth Ring."

"No. Normally your sixth member would fetch that Ring."

"I know that," Breanna said, getting edgy. "First we have to
find
that sixth member. That's why I'm here."

The Stallion flashed her a glance of impatience. "Because you did not bring a sixth member, who would have oriented on the sixth Ring, you have forfeited that choice. Now you must orient directly on the Swell Foop."

"I don't understand."

"Fortunately I do. Your sixth member must select himself by naming the Swell Foop. Then you must recruit him for the mission, and he must fetch the Ring of Void. Because of your prior dereliction you will not be able to discuss this in advance; you must have that particular person, or all is lost."

Breanna gulped. "But what if he doesn't want to do it?"

"That is why it would have been better to have had six in your group at the start; you would have known that all were committed. Now you must take the chance that your designated sixth member is not committed. The Rings respond to the sense of mission; that is why each of you had no trouble taking them, once you located them. This new person must develop that sense of mission. You must gamble on your persuasive abilities."

Breanna thought of Justin. "I can be persuasive when I have to be."

The Night Stallion looked down his long nose at her. She didn't like that, because it made her feel exactly as stupid as she thought she was. "The designated sixth may not be romantically inclined. In fact, he can be any creature. Suppose he is a dragon? An ogre? A cockatrice?"

This was looking worse. "I'll summon a demon if I have to, to help persuade him."

"You may have to. In fact, he may
be
a demon. I hope you succeed."

"Yeah, sure," she said wryly. Actually, she was pretty sure it wouldn't be a demon, because demons weren't mortal.

"I have no interest in seeing Xanth destroyed by lack of gravity."

"For sure. We've got too many puns already."

He did not smile. "Now we must explore the dreams of the universe. The first who names the Swell Foop will be your designee."

"Got it," she agreed, gulping again. Why
hadn't
they thought to have a compatible sixth member? She had any number of friends who would surely have served. Now they had to take whatever fate offered, and it might not be fun at all. A cockatrice, whose very glance was poisonous? Anything but that!

"I am instituting the search of dreams. I regret that I am unable to search waking thoughts; those are not my department."

"Wait half a moment! How about day dreams?"

The Stallion paused half a moment. "Those belong to the Day Stallion."

"But we've got a representative here. Putre is the foal of the Day Stallion."

Trojan glanced at the zombie colt, who had been very quiet since obtaining his reprieve. "Very well; a broader search is best. Let him add his input, and it will include day dreams."

Breanna patted Putre on the shoulder. "See—you're useful already."

"Thank you," his speech balloon wrote.

The search started. The chamber faded out, and they seemed to be in the center of a swirling universe. Voices came from near and far, all saying the same two words, but not together. "Swell." There were thousands of those. "Foop." There were only a few of those. It had to be the combination, in the right order.

The search ranged out, extending to the very fringe of Xanth. Then it fixed on one "Swell Foop!" A picture of the speaker formed: Cynthia Centaur, snoozing during the wait for Breanna's return, dreaming of her mission. That was no good; she was already committed to the Ring of Water.

The search resumed. Now it went beyond Xanth, into drear Mundania. Breanna's heart sank to the bottom of her chest. That was all they needed: a Mundane! Not that all of them were bad; she rather liked Edsel and Pia. But neither of them could do this; they were too busy with the environment, not to mention their new baby.

"Swell foop!" A second strike. The picture formed, establishing the context.

It was a girl of about fifteen, having a daydream. "I want it all in one swell foop, I mean fell swoop!" she exclaimed, laughing.

The swirling background faded. "There is your designee," the Night Stallion said.

"But she was only joking, making a play on words," Breanna protested.

"That does not matter. She dreamed the words."

"But I don't even know where she is. Mundania's a pretty big place. I ought to know; I lived there once."

"I can locate her," Putre's balloon wrote. He concentrated. "She is Jaylin, in Hawaii, Mundania."

"Hawaii! That's halfway around the world from the Xanth portal!"

Trojan nodded. "You had better get on it, before gravity fades."