Vale of the Vole (3 page)

"No! I'll—I'll leave you alone! You leave them alone!"

"Why how nice of you, Esk," she said. "You are becoming reasonable. I shall be glad to leave all of you alone, as long as you do not come here."

Esk got to his feet, turned around, and walked away from her. He knew he had lost, and it galled him, but there seemed to be no other way.

Could he trust her to leave his folks alone? The more he thought about it, as he walked, the more he distrusted it. The demoness might decide she liked the house better than the tree, and act against the family anyway. Demons had no conscience; that was their great strength and weakness.

He had to get rid of Metria. Only then could he be quite sure that his family was safe. But how? Every time he tried to make her move, she tried to seduce him, or worse, and she seemed a lot closer to victory than he. Where could he find the answer?

Then he realized where. He would go ask the Good Magician Hum-frey! Humfrey knew everything, and for one year's service would answer

any question. It was a steep price, but would be worth it to save his family from the possible malice of the demoness.

His decision made, Esk felt better. Tomorrow he would start his trip to the Good Magician's castle.

Chapter 2. Chex

1 andy hadn't wanted to let him go, of course, and he had been unable to tell her that it was to protect her and Smash and their house that he was doing it. So he had told another aspect of the truth: that it was time for him to take his Ogreish Rite of Passage (obviously the word was "right," but ogres weren't much on spelling) and perform some mighty act of destruction to become an adult, and so he wanted to go to the Good Magician to get advice. Smash had endorsed that enthusiastically, so Tandy really couldn't prevent it. And, in a sense, it was true; it was time for him to assert himself, and he did need advice. But the great act of destruction he contemplated was reversed; he actually wanted to prevent it by getting rid of Metria before she hurt someone. He hoped that wasn't too great a stretch of the reality.

"But the Good Magician requires a year of service for each answer!" Tandy had protested. "I know, because I served that year, when—"

"When he put you together with me," Smash had reminded her. That had ended that; of course she wasn't going to claim that the Good Magician had served her ill. He had indeed solved her problem by providing her with a companion who could stand up to the demon who threatened her.

And what companion could enable Esk to stand up to Metria? he wondered. What he really needed was a spell to make her simply go away and stay away, no questions asked. He would ask for it at the outset, so that he could banish her immediately; then he would serve out his year, satisfied that there was no threat to his folks.

Now he hiked west through the brush, garbed in the gray shirt and trousers his mother had insisted he wear, which matched his gray eyes. Such things were important to mothers. He was seeking one of the magic paths that led to the Good Magician's castle. They were enchanted to protect all travelers, so the trip should be easy enough. Here near home he was familiar with the land, so readily avoided problems, but when he

hit strange territory he wanted to be on a path. Even as minor a nuisance as the curse burrs could be bad, if one stumbled into a bed of them unaware. Major threats, such as large dragons—well, it was best just to avoid those.

He found a path, but distrusted it, because it was too convenient. Sure enough, it led directly to a tangle tree. A full ogre might tramp down it anyway, being too stupid to know the difference, and bash the tree, being too strong to care, but Esk was only a quarter ogre and had to exercise some discretion. So he shunned the path—and sure enough, he blundered into a patch of curse burrs.

"Confound you!" he exclaimed as one dug into his leg. That one hesitated, then dropped off; his curse had been pretty mild. Too bad he didn't have any harpy blood; a harpy could curse so villainously that the foliage around her dirty body smoked. Curse burrs never bothered harpiesl

Three more burrs were pricking him. "Go jump in the lakel" he exclaimed, and one fell off, reluctantly. "Your parent is a weed!" and another loosened. "May a dragon roast you!" and the third let go.

His problem was that he had never learned to curse effectively. Tandy, being a gentle creature, had not been any suitable role model in this respect, and Smash was not all that verbal; when annoyed, he simply turned ogre and bashed whatever bothered him. Esk knew that his education had been neglected in this respect, but it was rather late to do much about it.

There were two more burrs pricking his ankles. They were difficult to reach, because when he bent over his backpack tended to shift, so he sat down. Unfortunately, there were more burrs below, and what the demoness had termed his mule landed solidly on them.

"#©£$^%^[0£!!" he bawled, sailing up. The burrs flew from him like zzapping wiggles, leaving little vapor trails behind.

Esk stared after them. He hadn't realized that he knew language like that! Of course, he had been stung hard in an indelicate place, so had reacted involuntarily. Still . . .

He tried to recall what he had said, but could not. Apparently this was like his ogre strength or his curse fiend acting that came only in extreme need. Too bad.

He resumed his trek, and in due course encountered a promising path. It did not lead to a tangle tree or a dragon's lair, so seemed good. He wasn't sure how to tell whether it was enchanted, but if no hostile creatures appeared on it, he would assume that it was.

He stopped for lunch. Tandy had made him blueberry sandwiches, his favorite, and current pie. His teeth received a pleasant little shock when

he bit into the pie and caused the current to flow. The sandwiches were delightfully cold, because the berries had been harvested when blue with cold, in the month of FeBlueberry, and retained their frigid nature. Tandy had a special touch with food, which she said she had learned while serving the Good Magician.

Well, maybe he would pick up useful skills too, while serving his term. By all accounts, the service the Magician required was not arduous, and was often beneficial to the server in unanticipated ways. The monsters that came with questions served as guardians, and Tandy had served as a housekeeper. Smash Ogre had performed a task in lieu of a year, traveling with Tandy and guarding her from danger. Esk would be willing to perform alternate service, especially in the company of some young woman resembling his mother in certain respects.

But that reminded him of Metria, who had offered him entirely too much companionship. He still wondered why he had so resolutely refused her offer. It wasn't because he really valued his hideout; he could have fashioned another in a different region of the forest. Probably it was because he simply wasn't ready for the type of experience she offered—at least, not with a creature who was totally cynical about it. A real girl, with real feelings and sensitivities and concerns—that would have been most interesting. But a century-old unhuman creature who did it purely as a matter of bargaining—that was frightening. She could have gotten him fairly into it, then changed into a harpy or something, and laughed her demoniac head off. He did not trust her at all.

There, maybe, was the real key: trust. Demons were absolutely untrustworthy, because they had no souls; everyone knew that. The only safe way to handle a demon was to stay away from it, because there was no telling what it might do next. Metria had first tried to kill him, then to seduce him; now she threatened his family, and that only confirmed the popular wisdom. He hoped he reached the Good Magician's castle soon, so that he could set that matter right.

He completed his lunch and resumed walking. He did not know how far distant the Good Magician's castle was, but doubted that it was far. He knew a little geography, of course: his folks lived in the heart of Xanth, and to the southeast was Lake Ogre-Chobee, and Lake Wails to the east, and the great Gap Chasm to the north. The only direction remaining was west, where there was the Good Magician, and beyond him Castle Roogna, where King Dor lived. The King was a friend of Smash Ogre, but they hadn't been in touch for a while. Apparently King Dor had a child or two, and a pet dragon; that was about the extent of what was known.

There was a noise ahead. Esk paused, listening. That sounded like a small dragon, but it couldn't be, because it was on the path. But what else could pound and hiss like that? Now he smelled smoke, and that too suggested dragon. Dragons came in a number of varieties, adapted for land, water, and air; some were fire-breathers, some steamers, and some smokers. Suddenly he wished he were armed, but all he had was a walk-big staff.

The thing came into sight—and it was a dragon, a small brown smoker with bright claws and dusky teeth, because of staining by the smoke. This was not the worst variety of dragon, but any variety was trouble, because all dragons were tough and hungry. What was it doing on the enchanted path?

Esk had no time to ponder, because the dragon was charging him, mouth agape. He hefted his staff, but it seemed feeble even in the face of this rather small dragon; one chomp would break the staff in two. He thought to jump out of the way, but here the path was lined with curse burrs and worse.

The dragon scrambled right up to him, puffing smoke. It was about Esk's own mass, and however small that might be for a dragon, it was big enough to be a real threat to the tender flesh of a man. The jaws were big and the teeth like little daggers.

Those jaws and those teeth snapped at him. "No!" Esk said.

The dragon's snout moved aside, and the teeth chomped on air. The smoky eyes looked startled. It was wondering how it could have missed so ready a target. It reset itself and aimed another chomp.

"No."

Again the bite missed. An angry plume of smoke issued from the monster's mouth, bathing Esk and making him cough. He fanned the air with his hands, dissipating the smoke, but it clung to his clothing. Now he would smell like a smoker!

The dragon, slow to grasp the nature of the opposition, made a third attempt. Its jaws opened wide.

"No," Esk repeated, poking at the mouth with his staff.

The jaws froze in their open mode. They could not bite down on the staff, because of Esk's magic. Disgruntled, the monster backed away, and then it was able to close its mouth.

The dragon pondered. Just as the thought that perhaps it should try once more started to percolate through the somewhat dense substance of its head, Esk said "no" once more.

This time the thought itself was balked. Out of sorts, the little dragon moved on down the path, giving up on this particular prey.

Esk resumed his hike, disturbed. If this path was enchanted against predators, why had the dragon been on it? If it was not, was it the right one? He didn't want to be on the wrong one. Yet it was the only path he had found; if it was wrong, where did it lead?

He sighed. For now, he would continue along it. Possibly it was an unenchanted tributary, and in due course it would intersect the enchanted one. If not—well, then he would simply have to scout crosscountry for the right one.

As the day waned, the path gave no sign of merging with any other. It curved along contours and around large trees and crossed small streams just as if it had every business doing so. It certainly extended too far to be justified as a false path!

Then another little dragon appeared. Naturally it charged him. "No," he told it firmly several times, and finally it gave up and smoked on down the path.

Two dragons! One might have been a fluke, but two of a similar type? The enchantment was definitely flawed!

Now there was a notion: the spell might indeed exist, but have a glitch in it so that a certain type of creature could slip through. That would mean that this was after all the right path.

But as evening drew nigh, he worried. Even if it was the right path, there were dragons on it. How could he lie down and sleep, if a dragon might come upon him? He could only tell them no while he was awake; if he got chomped in the night he could cry no and stop it, but the original damage would still have been done. If he got chomped badly enough before he woke, he could be dead. Even a little dragon was nothing to ignore.

He concluded that he could not afford to sleep. Not until he knew it was safe.

Then he heard a commotion ahead. "Go away! Shoo! Shoo! Away!" It sounded like a woman.

He ran toward it. Soon he discovered not a woman but a centaur—a filly, with helplessly flapping wings and an ineffectively wielded staff in her hands. Another little dragon was attacking her, being held off only by the staff. The dragon evidently knew it could get by the staff before long. Smoke was puffing from it, as its internal fires heated.

Esk readied his own staff. "Get out of here!" he yelled at the dragon. Startled, it whipped around to face him, its smoke cutting off for a moment as it held its breath. Then, deciding that this was a possible rival for the prey, it let out its smoke with a ferocious growl and leaped at him.

"No!" Esk cried. The jaws snapped in air as the dragon drew its snout

aside. It landed, disgruntled, beyond him. It started to turn back. "No," he repeated, and it traveled on away from him, too stupid to realize that this had not been its own decision.

"Oh thank you, traveler!" the filly said. "I don't know what I would have done, if—"