Gwenny was thoughtful. "That database of yours has a lot of information. It occurs to me that Com Pewter knows considerably more than he tells."
"This is true," Roland said.
"You ought to know, rusty guts."
"That should be useful when we settle on Iron Mountain and start circulating the soul program to any other robots that show up," Hannah said. She returned to Gwenny. "But about the peeve?"
"Yes, let's do that now. I'll call my friend Surprise." Gwenny put her fingers to her mouth and made a whistle similar to the one Jenny had made when calling her husband.
A young human woman appeared, just barely under age to enter the Adult Conspiracy. "You called, Gwenny?"
"We may have something of interest to you," Gwenny said. "Folk, this is Surprise Golem, daughter of Grundy Golem and Rapunzel Elf. She can do anything once." Then she introduced the others to the girl, including the bird. "We wish to give the bird to someone."
"Get lost, chaste chick."
"The parody likes to insult others, using its companion's voice," Gwenny explained. "It is extremely imaginative in its choices of words and concepts."
"Unlike certain scheming limping gobs."
"We're trying to find a good home for it, but it alienates everyone it encounters. That's why Goody needs a bodyguard."
"He wouldn't, if he weren't so piddlingly puny."
"I begin to see why," Surprise said, smiling.
"Who asked you, junior jade?"
"Can you possibly think of anyone who would want to adopt this obnoxious bird?" Gwenny's tone sounded rhetorical.
An expression of delighted mischief crossed the girl's face. "I'll fetch Dad."
"Fetch both your parents," Gwenny advised. "Rapunzel should be in on the decision. She may not wish to be given the bird."
"I suppose so." Surprise disappeared.
"How does that girl relate?" Goody asked.
"Surprise is special," Gwenny said. "She can use any talent once, and only once. So she seems like a sorceress, but is short of it. Fortunately there are so many variations of similar talents that she'll never run out. She is limited only by her imagination. But it's her father we really need to talk to."
Surprise reappeared. "I brought the whole family," she said. She gestured, and there appeared a nondescript young man with a picnic basket.
"Uh, hello," the man said awkwardly.
"My fiance Umlaut," Surprise said.
"Oh, he's cute," Hannah said. Roland turned a lens on her, though of course a machine couldn't be jealous.
"He has that effect on women," Surprise said. "And here are my parents, Grundy Golem and Rapunzel Elf."
Umlaut opened the basket to reveal a tiny couple. The man could have sat comfortably on a human hand, or even a goblin hand, and the woman was no larger. The remarkable thing about her was her hair; it flowed about her body like a living cloak, changing colors as it went. She resembled a beautiful, elaborately coiffed doll.
These miniatures were Surprise's parents?
"I have some human ancestry," Surprise said, answering their unvoiced question. "So I revert naturally to human size. Mother can be any size she wants. Dad is the size he is."
"What a picayune pipsqueak!" the parody said.
Grundy looked at the bird. "Look who's talking, you undernourished popinjay."
"Oh, it talks! Is there a brain in with the sawdust?"
"Is there a tongue in that big mouth?"
"It's a wonder that doll beside you doesn't dump you out of your basket, you pitiful basket case."
"It's a wonder that gassy poop keeps coming out the wrong end."
"The giants and ogres must cringe in fear of your approach, you peewee midget."
"You must have hatched from a sick stinkhorn, you nauseous avian peeper."
There was a pause as a significant gaze passed between golem and bird.
"How would you like to come home with us, peeve?" Rapunzel asked. "We can give you a prominent perch overlooking a well-traveled path."
The parody flew to their basket and landed beside them. "Ditch these losers," Rapunzel's voice said.
Umlaut carefully closed the basket. He and his burden disappeared.
Only Surprise remained for a moment. "Dad loves that bird," she confided. "Now he can insult twice as many people with half the effort. Thank you." She faded out.
"I'm almost sorry to see the peeve go," Goody said.
"I promise to make it up to you," Gwenny said, kissing him. "Even though I'll never match the parody's language."
"Somehow I'll endure," Goody said, kissing her back. Little hearts orbited them.
"I believe you no longer require a bodyguard," Hannah said to Goody. "So Roland and I will head for the Iron Mountain, after we see you to Goblin Mountain."
"Thank you."
"It has been a great adventure." Hannah paused, and Goody knew why: it had become automatic, to allow for the peeve's insult. It would take a while for all of them to get used to its absence. Then she looked surprised.
"Is there a problem, wild wonder?" Roland asked.
"No problem! I just realized what the answer is to my question to the Good Magician: What is the nature of ultimate reality?"
"I am curious about that," Goody said. "What is it?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does! You are supposed to have the answer."
"That is the answer. Once a person discovers love, ultimate reality doesn't matter. I have found love." She kissed Roland.
Goody thought about it. Then he kissed Gwenny. "You're right: it doesn't matter."
"Make sure to come to the wedding," Gwenny said to them.
"We will."
Goody wished that subject hadn't come up. He dreaded the threatened occasion.
Author's Note
I allow about three months to write a Xanth novel, because such light fantasy is easy for me to do. Other types can take twice as long, or more, depending. Even so, this one was special, because I had been looking forward to it for two years. I loved the notion of the irascible bird! Then my fan Marisol Ramos-Lum, who runs P.A.T.H.—the Piers Anthony Thread Homepage—http://home.comcast.net/~ramoslum/PATH/—suggested that Goody Goblin marry Gwenny Goblin, and that I have a female barbarian hero. I thought of Hannah Barbarian, who appeared briefly in Geis of the Gargoyle, and things started coming together. Goody could be the one to accompany the peevish bird, with Hannah as his bodyguard. In case anyone doesn't get the pun, it's a takeoff on the movie cartoon maker Hanna-Barbera. But I knew that endless insults and battles with outraged ogres, dragons, tangle trees, and women would get tiresome after a while; I needed a central theme, something for them to accomplish along the way. One reader wanted to see a big battle in Xanth. I'm not much for violence; I prefer humor and naughtiness, as is surely apparent, but the last big Xanth battle was in Castle Roogna, twenty-six novels ago, so it did seem about time. But against whom? I hate to do things the same way as everyone else does them.
Then I thought of robots: there hasn't been a robot in Xanth, so it was about time for that too. And now you know the genesis of this novel, and I hope it doesn't spoil it for you. Some readers are heartbroken to discover that these novels are actually written by an aging, dull, mundane man according to a formula: there must always be a challenging visit to the Good Magician's castle, a romance, and more puns than the average person can stomach. But that's the way it is. I do have serious novels elsewhere, if you can't stand fun.
I did enjoy writing it. It's fun insulting every character that comes into range, and I liked Hannah and Gwenny as I got to know them better, and I think the robots will be a permanent future category, like the dragons, ogres, centaurs, and oh, yes, humans. I think it's about as funny and naughty as Xanth gets. I suspect some readers will blanch at the peeve's language, but the bird had to be obnoxious enough to make its placement a real challenge. No, I don't know its gender. Indications are equivocal, such as when it entered No Man's Land witho
ut changing, but I can't see how a female would make such sexist remarks.
I maintain a Web site, http://www.hipiers.com, where I have a long bimonthly column and a feisty listing of electronic publishers that inspires the thanks of aspiring writers and the ire of some publishers. (Don't look for www.piersanthony.com; that was hijacked by a Web squatter. Similarly don't try to call my old 800 number; that was taken by a porno outfit, leaving me to get the blame, costing me angry readers. Welcome to mundane morality!) I do it because I want to make things easier for others than they were for me. It took me eight years of submitting material to publishers before I made my first sale, and then I got cheated, and blacklisted for protesting the cheating. Even a writer's organization tacitly sided with the wrongdoing publisher and bad-mouthed me. So I have an ornery attitude—no more Mr. Nice Ogre—and I'm not getting mellow in my dotage, as those who tangle with me know. But most of my interactions with readers are quite positive, and the site facilitates this. This novel was affected by that.
I expected to have to do a lot of reading in the same time period I had allotted for writing this novel, because I had a huge galley proof coming, and was to judge an electronic publisher's fantasy novel contest. I'm a slow reader; that dates back to my early trouble in school when I couldn't learn to read. Today things like learning disabilities and dyslexia exist; my daughter suffered with those, and required special attention early in school. But in my day there were only stupid or lazy students, who required discipline rather than extra attention, so it took me three years and five schools to make it through first grade, finally learning to read. I was the stupidest student I know of. When I finally did catch on, I loved it, and in the end became a professional writer, as some may have noticed. It's a fine escape from the dreariness of Mundania. But I never did speed up a lot; I read every letter of every word, every sentence, every paragraph. That makes me a good proofreader but a slow regular reader.
So I was afraid I would use up too much time, and not be able to complete this novel on my schedule. That could be mischief, as there was a deadline. So I hurried, avoiding distractions, focusing on getting the job done. Fortunately it was a fun job. But in my hurry I had to shortcut anything that threatened to consume too much time. So when I came to Iron Mountain and Lake Wails I wanted to look them up in prior Xanth novels, to get their details straight; sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued readers constantly lurk to catch me in an error. But I couldn't find them. I turned the pages of The Color of Her Panties, because I thought they were there, but couldn't find them without doing an actual (slow) rereading. I wasn't even sure that was the right novel. What to do?
Here's where the Web site comes in: I asked my readers, and promised to give credits to the first five who located novel and page for me. Within a day after that column was published, I had five responses: Lake Wails is in Ogre, Ogre, and both Wails and Iron are in Panties. That enabled me to do my homework efficiently, and stay on my accelerated schedule. So here are those credits: Krysta Barcok, Cynthia McSorley and Rob Doherty, Michael Ratcliff, Rachael Biggs, and Kristina Keller. I regret that I am unable to give credit to #6; Mike Sloan just missed the cut. Thank you, all, and all the others who followed.
Then the other books to read did not come. The result was that I broke my record for writing, doing 81,000 words of novel text, and that HiPiers column, in September 2003. With that head start I had no trouble completing the 120,000-word novel the following month. It turned out that the fantasy contest deadline wasn't until after my novel was to be finished anyway; stupid Ogre-fashion, I had gotten it wrong.
Here, then, are the rest of the credits, for about 140 notions. Most were suggested via e-mail, and sometimes all I had to credit was a first name or a net name. Barbarian female main character, Goody marrying Gwenny—Marisol Ramos-Lum. Jack and Jill rabbits—Phillip J. Houx. Song and Ownlee Human—Justin Amy. Mournful gravestone, modification talent—Chris Ricketts. Line of Sight, Where daydreams are made—Emily Gertrude Alden. Mirage Mer-naga—Lisa Rufer. Maggie Wolf-Alicorn etc.—Maggie Foster. Bird dog, Vamp-eyer—Thalnos the Enchanter. Cowl—Katie Todd. Meloncollie—Kathy Harvey. Talent of making mountains from molehills, Talent of seeing most embarrassing moments, Pierced ears healed by elixir—Catty Philpot-Hogan. Gravi-tree—John Clay. Vegetables that stalk, Margarine fly, Watch dog having ticks, Paine—Jeanette Nelson. Bi-polar bear—Adam Bracken. Toilet-tree—Christy Hodge. Fourwarned, Fourshadowed—Avi Ornstein. Gumption tree—Jenna. Rusty, who makes things rust—Mathew Matthews. Mary Annette—Raymond Kyosei. Car tunes—Bridged; Allen. Car-pet—Karl Martin. Lorelei—Daley and Justin Reed. No Man's Land—Zach Robison. Ignor-ant, Ant-icipation—Rheanna Montoya-Childers. Cookie batter—Cindi Weng. Loon-a-tick, Talent of creating what's most needed, Tic-kit—Rusty Johnson. Candy corn fields and farmer, A-, B-, C-gulls—Bethlyn Erin Richard. Hazel—Suza Beth Spur-lock. Media's trip—Christopher Walsh. Metria's work, Bookworm, No place like tome—the Bolger Family. Olive Hue (I love you)—Tammy Yuen. Talent of making imaginary friends—Evan McVey. Lorlai Fiona—Diz Denner. Sharina and Suretha—Sharina Van Dorn. Twins who turn day to night, night to day—Thomas Jacobs. Hot crossed puns, Cheetah, Metal coil spring, Talent of watching pots boil, Talent of making sleeping dogs tell the truth—Matt Hill. Conundrum—David Kaplan. Brigitte—Boni Abbruzzese. Daze-E's—Joan O'Bryan. Billboard, Leigh and Anne—Brioney Leigh Anne Logan. Rek King Ogre—Elizabeth Hessom. Colt—Joy Bennet. Snow fakes, Chain stores—Vivian Baker. Talent of knowing talents—Dierdre King. Tautolotree tree—Thomas Whapies.
Poker, Fauns dancing around nymphs, Nap-kin—Joey Morris. Come-hither stair—Judy Herndon. Rubber band—Donna Edgar. Foot-hills of Mount Parnassus—Nehemiah Lewrel. Incumbents and succucumbents, Camp Pain—Melinda Anderson. Poet tree, Fishnet stockings—Susan Cormier. Anni Mae, Un-dead letter office, Cutlass/cutlad plants—Catie Webber. Watch tower—Andrea Krause. Hand Ker Chief—Adam Beame. Maize of corn stalks—Patrick Kelley. Library Ann, Eye can—Andy Giblin. Fire place, Pill-O—Kate Wilson. Undertoe—Tanya. Talent of changing colors of body parts—Carter. Six Knights—Alasdair Rodgers. Priority male—Deanna and Laurie Yamasaki. Rot-gut, Ale-ing oak trees, Gripe soda, Show girls—Marvin J. Cox. Matrimonial cheese—Tim Vige. Talent of undressing her with his eyes—Tom Becker. Rocket lawnchair—Jennifer Lawrence. Talent of complicating situations—Kiya Alexander. Mark-hers—Chad Daelhousen. Cutlass, Punties and the puns on them—Robert Price. In Tent City—Joel Nielson. Sound of a smirk—Krystalle Double. Wanna Bee—Brendan Long. Queen Irene's plant bulbs for ideas, Com-plain—Gabe Pesek. Cape Flattery—Nyssa P. Hamilton. Flaming O's—Lisa Shawn Fischer. Half-demon's souls regenerating—Sabrina Smith. Lunch boxes—Annemarie de Lavelle, Terese Couture. Pungatory—Chris Efta. Spitting image—Brin Rosenthal. Crossbreeds prune—Shannon Clay. Amateur-tagonist and pro-tagonist—Sean M. Watkins. Ptero Bull, Pun shield—Henry Wykoff. Pasture/Future—Natalya Bree. History of Trojan—Kathlynn Grey. Ichabod's fantastic classifications—Oscar Kelly. Chocolate lab dog—Dawn. Hot dog—Denise Morris. Optimist, pessimist—Tim Bruening. Crock pot/crack pot—Brendan Moore, Doug Laird. Ill eagle—John Gills. Tattle tail—Scott M. Stelle. Matt Heffelbower—Shane A. Henderson. Sam Dog—Naomi Elaine Goodwin. Panties stop freaking men, Talents of all the villagers except Cameo—Adam Michael Smith. Cameo—Mark Minson. Tree growing musical instruments—Joe Haughton. Demon Mercury's spy eyes—Dana Crincic. Talent of making people smile—Ainsley Whalen. Doll fin—Sandra Heiler. Jim Nastic—John Larr. Talent of making people feel guilty—Lenora Kenwolf. Talent of turning things on—Breanna Kay Larsen. Telliam Will—Elizabeth O'Neil. Sar Chasm—Sean Wilson.
No, I didn't use all I received. I made a computerized list, and highlighted ideas as they were used, but it was like being a tortoise chasing after a running rabbit. A number are earmarked for future novels, and some came in too late to make this one. Some just didn't fit here, so have to wait. Some were too good to waste on a passing reference, so are likely to have more significant treatment in the next. Al
l kinds of reasons. So if you sent in a suggestion, and didn't find it here, be patient; chances are it will appear in the next novel. Frankly it's a job keeping up; I do the best I can, but my readers have more good notions than I have novel to fit them into.
Piers Anthony, Pet Peeve
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