xanth 40 - isis orb (21 page)

“You have more guts than I thought,” Trover said. “I mean that in the worst possible way.”

“I think you have this station in hand,” Zed said. “I will move on to my own. But the troll was not my problem.”

“Not?”

“It’s that I won’t be able to play my sax in your absence.”

Oops again. “I keep forgetting that. I just can’t be everywhere at once.”

“And if you desert this post, the dragon will fly through it to escape our net.”

“This is interesting,” Trover said. “You are trying to catch the Earth Dragon?”

“It’s not your business,” Hapless said, sorry he had forgotten about the troll.

“Ah, but it
is
my business. The Earth Dragon is the key to the Region of Earth; all Earth power is ultimately invested in him. If you capture him, you will gain control of the Region, with phenomenal powers, and will have dominion over us all, me included. You might banish me from my beloved bridge.”

Both of them looked at the troll. “You’re not as stupid as you look,” Zed said.

“Well duh, centaur! I couldn’t possibly be as stupid as I look, now could I?”

Hapless was impressed. Trover had personality.

“Then what are you doing lurking under a bridge and demanding tolls from passers by?” Zed demanded. “This is hardly a way to exert your supposed intellect.”

“It’s what trolls do, centaur. The same way that centaurs use their intellects to teach classes and educate ignorant humans. Trolls who do not haunt bridges maintain the Trollway that efficiently takes folk anywhere in Xanth, for a fee. It’s our nature.”

“What of the trolls who eat children and terrorize villages?”

“Well, we do have some riffraff. There are not bridges enough for every troll, and the leftovers tend to degenerate. They are our lower class, fit mainly to be looked down on, just as are poor humans.”

“Now wait a moment!” Hapless protested. “No one deserves to be looked down on.”

“I will happily leave you to your ensuing discussion,” Zed said. “After we solve my problem with the instrument.”

“This discussion with Hapless promises to be interesting,” Trover said. “So maybe I can get rid of you by solving your problem.”

Zed looked at him with suppressed contempt. “You can solve it?”

“I will make you this deal, stripe hide: if I solve it for you, you will then depart and leave us alone.”

“Done, bridge trash.”

The troll turned to Hapless. “Acquaint me with the essential: why can’t the centaur play his saxophone when apart from you? Are you his mentor?”

“Hardly,” Hapless said. “It is my talent to conjure any musical instrument, but I can’t play any, and others can play them well only in my presence.”

“I believe that you can’t play, but not that you enhance the playing of others.”

“I can demonstrate. What instrument do you play?”

“A tro instrument, of course, like the trombone. Remember, I’m a troll. But I’m not good at it.”

Hapless conjured a trombone, finely crafted of bones. “Try this one.”

Trover took it and blew a note. It was beautiful. He blew another, his surprise showing around the mouthpiece. Then he played an entire melody.

He set it aside. “Point made. Evidently your talent exports your musical ability to others. If I can play that well, obviously the centaur can. But since it’s a side effect of your talent, others have to be near you for it to operate. So why don’t you simply accompany your friend to his station, so he can play his sax unimpeded?”

“Because we have to herd the dragon,” Hapless said, and explained.

“Ah. Then the solution is obvious. When your five members play, herding the dragon to Zed for the coup de grace, you will all be converging on the centaur. Thus when he plays, you, Hapless, will be in range, and his instrument will be effective.”

Hapless exchanged an amazed look with Zed.

“You win, troll,” Zed said, the contempt mysteriously absent. “I’m on my way.”

Hapless conjured the double saxophone, and Zed carried it with him as he followed the path on around the Region of Earth.

“Excellent.” Trover refocused on Hapless. “Why do you feel that no one deserves to be looked down on? Is it not natural for superior creatures to scorn inferior creatures?”

Hapless realized that he was in over his intellectual depth. But he tried. “It may seem natural, but it’s not nice. Each creature is unique in its own way, and does not deserve to be scorned for that. I’m an indifferent human with no special qualities other than maybe stubbornness, but even I deserve some respect for being what I am. We recently encountered a fire faun, and he turned out to have an interesting culture that I came to respect. So contempt may be largely a product of ignorance.”

“So then contempt should be for the contemptuous?”

“Yes, actually. They deserve their own medicine.”

“I agree.”

“So therefore you should not—” Hapless paused. “You what?”

Trover laughed. “I agree. That dismays you?”

“Um—”

“I think you and I are going to be friends.”

“But you were saying—”

“I argued a case with which I disagreed, for the sake of argument. You refuted it. You are my kind of person. I admit that surprises me, but I have learned not to judge on too slender a basis.”

“I—I guess I was prejudiced against trolls.”

“And I against humans. But it seems there are exceptions.”

“Exceptions,” Hapless agreed weakly.

Then he heard the rush of air as the dragon approached. He quickly took the trombone and blew a foul note. The dragon swerved away.

“This is an interesting technique,” Trover remarked. “I would swerve away too.”

“Something I don’t get,” Hapless said. “You don’t seem disturbed that I’m helping to herd the dragon to his likely captivity, even though you understand that this could change the power structure of the Region of Earth. What’s with you?”

“I try to maintain perspective. To view the larger picture. I am satisfied with the existing order, but it is possible that change will be for the better.”

“Change could be risky for you.”

“Perhaps. But when I saw the magic path form, and noted the loop indicating that this is a station, I realized that this must be a Quest and that the Good Magician may be involved. As a general rule it is best not to interfere with the Good Magician. Things tend to turn out as he anticipates, however deviously.”

“So far they have,” Hapless agreed.

“I reasoned that if there was a station beside my bridge, there must be a reason. It would have been easy for the magic path to avoid my area. So it seems that my peripheral participation was wanted, and that aroused my curiosity. I was not aware that the Good Magician even knew of me.”

“The Good Magician wanted us to meet and talk?”

“That would seem to be the case,” Trover said. “The question is why.”

“It must facilitate the Quest in some way.”

“Indeed. Can we fathom what way?”

“I have had trouble making much sense of any of it. I just follow the paths and try to do my best.”

“Commendable. I wonder why you were selected for this mission.”

“I wonder too. I am not especially smart, handsome, or lucky, and my talent is more frustrating than useful to me.”

“I appreciate that; you are realistic. Yet there must be a reason. Perhaps a quality of character?”

“My character is not special either. I think I just happened to be the nearest available person who wasn’t otherwise occupied. The same may be true for the others. None of us is anything special.”

“Yet you seek the Goddess Isis.”

“We seek the Isis Orb, which I guess we’ll have to get from Isis somehow.”

“Isis is mischief. She has designs on Xanth. Had she been the one to travel this path, I would have done my best to torpedo her, dangerous as that would have been. One does not lightly cross a goddess. I was relieved to see you instead.”

“Well, we have met and talked, but I’m not sure how it benefits either of us.”

“Sometimes benefits are not immediately apparent.”

“But what about the trolls who raid villages and eat babies? If you don’t think they are your lower class, what are they?”

“They are trolls of a differing persuasion. Who is to say which persuasion is best? Again, it is much as it is with humans or other creatures: each is a rule unto himself. We judge others at our peril.”

Hapless found that hard to answer. So he said so.

“You are honest.”

“Too honest, my girlfriend says.”

“Compulsive honesty can be a social liability, true, but it surely has its place.” Trover shrugged. “This trombone you conjured for me: may I keep it?”

“As long as it lasts, which will be a day or so. My conjurations are temporary.”

“Thank you.” Trover lifted it and played a lovely melody. “It’s such a delight to play it competently, even though I know this is your talent rather than mine.” He resumed playing. The bones were really performing in his hands.

Hapless took off his shoes, so as to be able to feel the low sax note when it came. Meanwhile he listened with pleasure to the music, yet again with that tinge of jealousy. If only he could do the same!

They chatted about this and that. Then Hapless felt the vibration. It was time. “I must move on, Trover,” he said. “It has been surprisingly nice getting to know you.”

“Likewise. Perhaps we shall in some unlikely circumstance meet again.”

Hapless put his shoes back on and followed the path toward Zed, keeping an eye out for the dragon. Soon the dragon did show. Hapless lifted his tuba and played a warning note. The dragon retreated.

Now he began to hear another note. This was Feline’s kit, beautifully ominous. It was a bluff, as she could not play a competent melody, but it seemed to be working.

The dragon flew back toward Hapless. He inhaled. The dragon quickly left.

Another note sounded: Quin’s accordion. And Faro’s drumbeat. And Nya’s harmonica. All were advancing south. The one note that didn’t sound was Zed’s saxophone. Would the herding work?

It did. The dragon flew toward Zed, evidently thinking that he lacked the skill or courage to play compelling music. Now the central volcano shuddered, evidently aware that something was happening. They needed to get this done quickly.

Hapless hurried to get closer. The dragon angled down for a strafing run, evidently planning to take out the centaur as a warning to the others. He was getting dangerously close.
Play, Zed!
Hapless thought.
Before you get fried! I’m close enough now
.

Suddenly Zed lifted his sax and played the most potently evocative music imaginable. Caught too close, the dragon tried to reverse course, but only succeeded in spinning out of control. He crashed to the ground, righted himself, and tried to crawl away. Hapless almost felt sorry for the creature.

Zed marched on in, playing. The dragon was stunned. Zed came and touched his tail. The dragon disappeared.

Zed stopped playing. He bent down to pick up the new Totem. “Gotcha,” he said.

The volcano blew out a boulder as if clearing its throat, then settled back down to mere smoke. It knew it was pointless to protest their victory. The dragon would return in due course.

The others closed in to admire the Totem. It was in the form of the dragon, six wings and all, and most resembled a work of art. “Congratulations,” Faro said, kissing him on the cheek. “Will it enable you to fly?”

“I never thought of that!” Zed held up the figure, concentrating. Nothing happened. “No,” he said, disappointed. “Flying is not an Earth basic characteristic. But it can do plenty else.”

“Do demonstrate,” Feline said. “We all need to know what we as a group have.”

“It can start an avalanche.” He glanced at a nearby hill, and there was a dirt slide. “And an earthquake.” The ground around them shook warningly. “And a volcano.” A tiny volcano popped up near them like a blister in the ground, spouting a jet of smoke. “I can make them all bigger, if you want.”

“No need,” Hapless said quickly. “Those effects are dangerous, and we don’t want to invoke them unless there is reason.”

“Agreed,” Zed said, satisfied. “Thank all of you for your cooperation. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We’re a team,” Faro reminded him.

So they were.

Chapter 10:

Air Griffin

They relaxed, glad to be reunited and with the second Totem conquered. But three Totems remained, for Air, Water, and the Void, and they were surely formidable.

“Which do we tackle next?” Hapless asked.

“Isn’t that for you to decide?” Feline asked.

“Actually it’s for the box to decide,” Nya reminded them. “It did for Fire and Earth.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” he agreed, disgruntled. It was a familiar state; he simply wasn’t sharp at obvious details.

“But let’s not open it until morning,” Quin said.

They were glad to agree. They played themselves a concert, then foraged for their evening meal. There was a pleasant pool nearby where they could safely wash. The Region of Earth had become docile, once its Totem was won.

They settled for the evening, the two centaurs standing together, the two dragons resting side by side, and Feline with Hapless. A quest with six participants, maybe forming into three couples. But there was a lot yet to be accomplished, and—

“And there’s that other girlfriend you’re trying for,” Feline said.

He was put slightly askew. “Are you sure you’re not telepathic?”

“Fairly sure. I can tell when your focus is not entirely on me, and there’s not much else it can be on except the other woman. Men have small minds; when they aren’t on one girl, they’re on another.”

He was not completely satisfied with that assessment, but wasn’t sure he could refute it. “And I’m not trying for anyone else. It’s what the Good Magician said. It’s fate, maybe; I didn’t ask for it.”

“Two good girlfriends and maybe one bad one,” she agreed. “And the bad one fascinates you the most. Maybe I should just preempt the others, since I’m here first.”

What did she have in mind? He was intrigued. “Maybe you should.”