Yon Ill Wind (8 page)

There was a full pause.  She had set them back again.

So Jim filled in with a question of his own.  “I do not wish to be impolite, or to seek after anything private.  But since Nimby can't speak for himself, may I inquire about his background and mission?”

 “Oh, there's no problem about that,” Chlorine said brightly.  “Nimby's a donkey-headed dragon in man-form.

I could ask him to revert to his natural shape, to show you, but he'd be too big for this little house.”

“Then we had better take your word for it,” Jim said carefully.  This young woman, like this strange land, kept surprising him anew.

“He's doing me a really big favor,” Chlorine continued.

“You see, in real life, I'm, well, plain.  And not all that smart or nice.  But Nimby's talent is to make himself and his companion whatever she wishes them to be.  So naturally I wished to be really pretty, smart, healthy, and nice.”

“Yeah,” Sean said appreciatively, doubtless glancing at her legs or more.  She was about as healthy a young woman as Jim had seen, and strong on the other qualities.

“I think maybe you don't believe me,” Chlorine said.

“But that much I can show you, because I'm the same size in real life.” She lifted her voice.  “Nimby, show me as I really am—for one moment.”

The young man sitting beside Jim nodded.  And there was a gasp of surprise behind.  Jim turned his head for a quick look.

The lovely young woman had indeed changed.  She was now a plain-bordering-on-ugly girl, in unattractive clothing, with an irritable expression.  Her hair was a listless, stringy, unappealing shade of green.

Then the moment was over, and she was lovely again.

Her legs and bosom filled out, and her dank hair became lustrous.  She smiled, and the interior of the RV seemed to brighten.  “See?  I owe Nimby a lot.”

“You sure do,” Sean breathed, as Jim turned back to watch the road.

“But why is Nimby doing this for you?” Karen asked.

“I mean if he's really a dragon, wouldn't he rather eat you?”

“Karen!” Mary said severely.

“Ah, come on.  Mom,” David said.  “She does look good enough to eat.”

Chlorine laughed.  “Thank you.  I was afraid of something like that, at first, because that's what dragons do.  But he turned out to be a nice dragon.  A very nice dragon.”

“Yeah,” David agreed.  “I wish I had one like him.  I'd have him make me a star football player or something.”

“Actually, he did tell me why, when we first met.” She evidently held up a hand, as someone started to protest, Jim had to keep his eyes on the road, so couldn't look.

“Yes, Nimby is mute now, but at first he could speak.  He told me that he needed my company, and would do anything he could to make it worthwhile for me.  But he warned me that that was his only chance to speak, and he has been mute since.  But he understands me, and he can answer me by gestures.”

“But suppose he had something important and complicated to tell you?” Sean asked, perhaps becoming intrigued by something other than her appearance.  “Such as some terrible danger you didn't know was coming, so you didn't think to ask him a yes-or-no question about it?”

“Why, I don't know.  Nimby, is there anything like that?”

Nimby turned to face the rear, and nodded.

“Something important?  That's too complicated for me to just guess readily?”

Nimby nodded again.

Now Chlorine seemed out of sorts.  “But how can I ask you, if I don't know what to ask?” she asked plaintively.

“Maybe he can write it,” David said.

“But I can't read,” Chlorine said.  “More than big obvious signs and short words, I mean.  The signs have spells to make them legible to anyone, even animals.  I can't read anything significant on my own.  I flunked Centaur School.”

So she was functionally illiterate, Jim realized.

Sean laughed.  “So have him make you able to read.”

There was a flash of light, followed by a gasp of awe.

“A lightbulb just appeared over your head!” Karen cried. “It glowed!”

“Yes, of course,” Chlorine agreed.  “I realized Sean was right.  That's a brilliant idea.  Nimby, make me literate, so I can read what you write, no matter how complicated it is.  And write me what I need to know.”

Immediately the young man brought out a pad and stylus and began writing.  Jim nodded; there were definite advantages to magic.  In Mundania there were no such shortcuts.

“That reminds me of something else,” Jim said.  “This is obviously not our homeland.  The rules are mostly different.  How is it that you and the centaurs speak exactly our own language?”

“Oh, that's part of the magic of Xanth,” Chlorine said.

“Everyone speaks the same language here.  All people, I mean.  Animals speak their own languages, which are different from ours, so we usually can't understand them.  But often they can understand us.”

“We have animals,” Sean said.  “But they don't speak.”

“Oh, they surely do speak, at least here in Xanth.  You just need someone like Grundy Golem to translate what they say.”

“Who?”

“He's an obnoxious little creature who speaks all languages.”

Meanwhile Nimby had completed his writing.  Soon he passed the note back.

Chlorine took it and looked at the fine script.  “I can read it!” she exclaimed.  “I really can!  I'm literate!  I'm utterly thrilled!”

“What does it say?” David asked.

“Oh.  Yes.” She focused, and read the note aloud.

“ 'There are goblins along Lizard Lane who have set a trap for unwary travelers.  It is an illusion barricade and detour that will lead folk into a trap, so the goblins can swarm in and capture them for stew.' “

“Does that mean what I think it does?” Mary asked, horrified.

“Yes, if you think it means that goblins boil people alive,” Chlorine said.  “Goblins are mean creatures.” She returned to her reading.  “ 'Because I must protect you from harm, and you will come to harm if the Mundanes fall into this trap, I must tell you how to avoid it.  Do not honor the illusion; drive right through it without slowing.

The goblins will not be able to attack this vehicle at speed.' “

“Why couldn't they just throw some logs on the road?”

Sean asked.

“Because this is an enchanted path,” Chlorine explained.  “The trolls guarantee that there are no dangers along it.  Otherwise no one would use it.  As it is, there is very little traffic, because the trollway is new and many folk are wary of trolls.  Also, the trolls used to build only bridges.  But they do know how to make good roads.  So the goblins can't put up any real barricades.  But if they trick us into leaving the protected path, then they can get us.” She lifted her voice again.  “Oh, thank you for warning us.  Nimby!” she said.  “I'm sorry I never thought to ask.  After this, write me a note any time I need to know something.”

The young man nodded.  That was an interesting situation, Jim reflected, where Nimby seemed to know everything, but couldn't volunteer information; he had to be asked or instructed to.

Meanwhile, this was indeed a good route.  “So this is Lizard Lane,” Jim said.  “What does that remind me of?”

“Alligator Alley,” Sean said.

Jim nodded.  “A parody of the world we know.  So if I see a barricade and detour, I'm to ignore it, because it's illusion.”

Nimby, beside him, nodded.

Jim shut up, but privately he doubted that they would encounter any such illusion.

The scenery was becoming more interesting or alarming, depending on one's view.  Florida in the Everglades region was flat, but it was evident that Xanth had mountains; already Lizard Lane was wriggling between them like its namesake.  There even seemed to be a volcano in the distance, In fact, the road seemed to be headed in that direction.  Jim hoped it didn't erupt while they were in its vicinity.

There was also a bank of clouds looming to the northeast.  That would be the vanguard of Happy Bottom, as they called Gladys here.  Could there be anything to the conjecture about it sweeping up magic dust and becoming a dangerous magical storm?  After what he had already seen, he was not prepared to deny it.  So they were doing exactly what they needed to:  driving full speed away from it, or at least around it.

Suddenly a barricade loomed up.  How had he overlooked it before?  The thing was huge, and extended right across the road.  There was a big sign with an arrow pointing right:  ROAD CLOSED—DETOUR.  The detour road was clear, winding away toward a rest station.  He barely had time to make it.

Jim trod on the brakes.  The tires squealed as he swerved.

“No!” Chlorine cried.  “It's illusion!  Go through it!”

Jim had virtually no time to make his decision.  She had warned him about this.  A mistake could be fatal.  He might regret this in an instant, but he trusted her.  He straightened the wheel and stepped on the gas, heading for the collision.

He barely missed the exit lane.  He winced as the barrier loomed high and thick and devastating.  They were going to crash!

Then they were through it, without contact.  The road continued ahead, uninterrupted.  Jim's pulse started its long trek back down toward the vicinity of normal.  Chlorine and Nimby—had been right.

“Gee,” David said, awed.  “Just like killer video.”

That about covered it.  Jim glanced at Nimby, who shrugged.  Obviously his information had been good.  He had been right about the illusion barrier, so probably was also right about the goblins.

In fact, there they were now:  a horde of small, lumpy manlike figures just off the right of way, shaking their little fists.  Some carried clubs, and some spears.  Obviously they had intended no good.  That had been one close escape, thanks to the timely warning.

“Nimby, if I may ask—how did you know about this ambush?” Jim asked.  He wasn't sure the man would answer him, but Chlorine must have nodded, because Nimby began to write again.  Soon he passed Jim a note.

Jim held it up by the steering wheel and read it.  I have knowledge of events around me that may affect the welfare of my companion.  But I may not act on them myself; I can act only at her behest.  The goblins were setting up the illusion barricade.

Evidently so.  And if Chlorine hadn't thought to ask, they would have fallen into the trap.  What would Nimby have done then?  Maybe he would have reverted to his dragon form and carried her away to safety—if Chlorine asked him.  But the rest of them would probably have been out of luck.

Chlorine must have had a similar chain of thought.

“Nimby-—I have undertaken to guide these folk safely out of Xanth.  If anything happens to them, I will have failed.

I wouldn't like that at all.  So please warn me if anything threatens them, as well as me.  I mean, if it threatens them without threatening me, warn me, because that's part of me too—the decent part.  If they are hurt, I will hurt too.”

Nimby nodded.

“Thank you,” Jim said.

Now they were approaching the volcano.  Smoke was issuing from its aperture.  “Is that thing active?” Jim asked.

“Yes, that's Mount Pinatuba,” Chlorine said, peering ahead.  “The last time it got angry, it blew out so much dust that it cooled all Xanth by a degree.  But it doesn't blow its top if you don't insult it.”

“Volcanoes care?” Sean asked.  “How can they, when they aren't alive?”

“Don't speak loudly,” Chlorine cautioned him.  “It might hear you.”

Indeed, that seemed to be the case, because the mountain shuddered and blew out a plume of gas.

“Oh, I didn't mean to disparage it,” Sean said quickly.

“I think it's a pretty impressive volcano.”

The mountain subsided, and the plume drifted away in the wind.

“Everything cares,” Chlorine said.  “The inanimate can be very sensitive to slights.  King Dor can talk to it, and it answers him.  Most things aren't too smart, but they do have opinions.  So we have to be careful not to insult them, unless we have reason.”

“I guess so,” he agreed, clearly impressed.

“Mom, can I use the privy?” -Karen asked.

“It's full,” Mary replied.  “We need to stop where we can empty it.”

She was right.  The storm had confined them pretty much to the RV, and they hadn't been able to attend to certain details.  “Chlorine, is there a rest stop along this road, nearby?  One that isn't goblin-infested?”

Chlorine consulted with Nimby, who nodded.  Soon he pointed to the side, and Jim swung onto an exit road.  Sure enough, it led to a pleasant glade with a house in the center.  He pulled up beside the house, and paused.  “This is safe?” he asked Nimby.

The young man hesitated, then nodded.

The others opened the side door and piled out.  But Jim delayed.  He hadn't liked that hesitation.  “Is there something you're not telling us, Nimby?”

Chlorine had gotten out with the others, so they were now alone in the vehicle.  Nimby hesitated again, then began to write a note.

Jim waited, and in due course read the note:  Danger is looming close.  Your family will learn it at this site, and be alarmed.  This will make your journey more difficult.

“What danger?”

The storm is stirring up bad creatures.  They will frighten your children.

“But we will escape unharmed—if we follow your advice?”

Nimby nodded yes.

“Thank you.” Jim hesitated, then spoke again.  “I wish I could know more about you.  Nimby, but I hesitate to inquire.  Maybe some other time.” Then he, too, got out of the vehicle.

The region was very nice.  Karen had found a tree, and was picking a pie from it.

Jim stopped, doing a double take.  A pie tree?  Yes, so it seemed to be.  So it really was true:  pies grew on trees, here in the magic land of Xanth.

He went to the facilities, which were somewhat primitive but usable; what more was to be expected of trolls?

The wind whistled through the cracks; there was no doubt the storm remained near.

Then he thought of the pets, and returned to the RV to see to them.  He found Nimby communing with them, though they were normally somewhat shy with strangers, they seemed completely at ease with the odd young man.

As Jim approached.  Nimby turned to face him.  He wrote another note:  These creatures should not be caged.  You must let them go.