Vale of the Vole

  “A violent,” Marrow said. “Didn’t you note the color?”

  “Oh, I see,” Esk said, irritated. “Roes are red, violents are blue.”

  “I think he’s got it!” Marrow exclaimed.

  “Just who are you talking to?”

  “The violent, of course. Didn’t you hear?”

  “I guess I don’t speak the local dialect. What does it say?”

  “It says it isn’t its fault it got lost. They were planting violents on the median strips between major paths, but they rejected this one and threw it away.”

  Esk began to have some sympathy for the blue plant. “Why did they reject it?”

  “Because they didn’t want any more violents on the media.”

  “Oh.” He should have known that no explanation would make much sense here.

  They continued along the path. In due course they had to pass under a kind of woven vine that seemed to have eyeballs set into it. “Say, isn’t that an eye queue?” Esk asked. “My father encountered one of those; it made him very smart for a while. What’s it doing here?”

  “Maybe I can find out,” Marrow said. He reached out, caught the vine, and set it on the top of his skull. “It says it was lost from the Lexicon,” he reported.

  “The Lexicon? What’s that?”

  “The eye queue says that some ass from Mundania came through with a secretary and listed all the things of Xanth—except the eye queue vine. So the vine is lost.”

  “Too bad,” Esk said. “Now nobody will be smart.”

  Marrow stepped out from under the vine, and it fell back into place over the path. Apparently it could not become a part of the skull, probably because there was no brain to enhance.

  Farther along was a little squiggly thing, hardly large enough to see. “What’s that?” Esk asked.

  “A lost vitamin, I think. Let me see.” Marrow put out a finger bone to touch the thing. “Yes, vitamin F.”

  “What’s it for?”

  “Oh, it has potent F-ect.”

  “Potent effect?”

  “F you make the right F-ort.”

  “Let’s find vitamin X instead,” Esk said grimly. “Then maybe we can become X-pert in finding the X-it, if it X-ists.”

  “X-actly,” Marrow agreed, not catching Esk’s irony.

  They continued past other lost items: a lost fossil bone that Marrow greatly admired, as it was of a species of creature unknown in Xanth or Mundania, whose discovery would revolutionize the understanding of both; a lost band of the rainbow, more wonderful than any other; a lost stream of consciousness; and a lost dire strait. Esk would have found all these things considerably more interesting if he hadn’t been so acutely concerned about finding his way out of the gourd before his body got into trouble in Xanth. Suppose a dragon sniffed it out? He could wake up to find himself chomped.

  Then they came to a young woman sitting in a bath. She was of metallic hue, and quite nicely proportioned. Esk could tell because her only clothing seemed to be a metallic halter covering her front.

  She jumped up as they approached. “Oh, good!” she exclaimed. “Found at last!”

  “Uh, hello,” Esk said, trying to keep his eyes above the level of her chest. He knew that Chex Centaur would have called his attitude foolish, but the attitude was one of the things that had not gotten lost. “I am Esk, and this is Marrow.”

  “Hello, Esk and Marrow,” she said brightly. “I’m Bria Brassie.”

  “You’re a brassy!” Esk exclaimed.

  “That’s brassie,” she corrected him. “I’m female, as you evidently hadn’t noticed. A male is brassy.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I, uh, noticed, but—”

  “That’s not much of an apology,” she muttered.

  Esk plowed on. “I’ve been looking for you!”

  “Well, you have found me. Have we met before?” She gave her brass hair a shake so that it glinted prettily.

  “I mean, I was looking for where you live, because I think that’s near the night mares’ pasture! Do you know where—?”

  “No, I’m hopelessly lost. I thought you knew. Didn’t you come to get me out of here?”

  “I came by accident,” Esk admitted, glancing down, then wrenching his eyes up again. That wasn’t much better, because her bosom was full and her brassiere was scanty.

  “He’s a peeper,” Marrow explained.

  Esk felt himself starting to flush, though he knew that the skeleton was referring to the gourd, not what Esk was trying not to stare at. “Yes, yes,” he said quickly. “I fell, and landed against a gourd before I knew, and now I’m stuck here.” He swung his gaze around, to indicate the surroundings.

  “Are you having trouble with your eyes?” Bria inquired.

  “Uh, some, maybe. Do you have any information about the terrain? Anything that might help us get, er, unlost?”

  She turned, looking away from him. In the process she showed her pert brass bottom, that flexed exactly as if made of living flesh. “I’m afraid I don’t. I like to explore, and was seeking a way to visit the outer world, but as you can see, I got lost.” She completed her turn, and Esk hauled his eyes up once again. “Are you sure you’re well?” she asked solicitously. “You seem flushed, which I understand is a signal of distress among living folk.”

  “Uh, yes, I am distressed,” Esk agreed quickly. “My body is stuck in that pit, and I’m very much concerned that something will happen to it before I get rescued. If I can just get to a night mare—”

  “Yes, it must be quite a problem, being alive,” Bria said. “Is it true that you have to eat and eliminate, just to keep going?”

  “Brassies don’t?”

  “Of course not. Why bother with all that inconvenience and mess if you don’t have to? I suppose you have to wear all that clumsy clothing to keep you warm, too.”

  “You shouldn’t embarrass him by remarking on his weaknesses of the flesh,” Marrow reproved her.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she agreed. “I apologize, Esk.” She stepped into him, put her arms around him, and kissed him on the mouth. “Is that enough?”

  Stunned, Esk just stood there, for the moment as still as a metal statue himself.

  “It seems it is not,” Marrow said.

  “I’ll just have to try harder, then,” she said brightly. “Esk, I apologize for anything I may have said to offend or embarrass you, and hope you will forgive me that transgression.” Then she embraced him so closely that he started to lose his balance and made an involuntary grab for support, reaching around her. Then she kissed him again, deep and long. She was made of metal, but her lips were warm and soft and firm, and so was her body.

  Finally she drew back her head a little. “Is that enough?” she asked again.

  Esk felt as if he were floating at treetop height. All that anchored him was his grip on her body. Then a mound flexed under his hand, and he realized where that grip was. He froze again.

  “Apparently you are not putting enough into it,” Marrow said.

  Bria made a cute little grimace. “Apparently not. Well, I’ll make sure it takes the next time.” She inhaled, preparing for the supreme effort.

  “No-no!’ Esk stammered. “I-I—I accept your a-apology!”

  She cocked her head at him, and her hair shifted with a coppery sheen. “Are you sure? You still look flushed.”

  “Ab-absolutely sure,” he said uncertainly.

  “That’s a relief. Be sure to tell me if I embarrass you again.”

  “Uh, yes, certainly,” he agreed, as she disengaged, and his hand finally slipped from her buttock.

  “Apologizing is such a chore,” Marrow said. “I don’t know whether it is worse for the offender or the offendee.”

  Now it was not just his gaze, but his fancy that had to be sternly reined. Esk’s experience with women was quite limited, but he was discovering that the nuances of such interaction could carry a formidable charge. He had met Bria only a few minutes ago, but already she had opened a dra
matic new dimension to his imagination.

  “We had better just walk along the path,” Bria said. “Since Esk is not part of our world, he should be able to unlose us, if we maintain contact with him.”

  “My sentiment exactly,” Marrow said.

  Bria took Esk’s right hand and Marrow his left, and they walked on along the path, which was wide enough at this stage to accommodate them in this formation. Esk suffered himself to be guided, for his thoughts were not properly on the subject. How could a creature of metal be so soft?

  The path jigged and jogged, becoming narrow and then wide again, but they maintained their linkage and advanced resolutely along it.

  Bria spied something in the path, perhaps a tiny pebble, and bent quickly to pick it up with her free hand. “Just what I’ve always wanted!” she exclaimed.

  “Oh? What is it?” Esk asked.

  She glanced sidelong at him. “Nothing of consequence, perhaps. Just another lost item I think I’ll save, just in case I should one day need it.”

  Esk shrugged. Of course she could pick up anything she wanted. A stone as small as that was hardly worth the effort, though.

  The scenery was changing, so they knew they were getting somewhere. Now they seemed to be approaching a region of more orderly plants, that—

  Light flared, interrupting his observation in mid thought. “Oh, I’m so glad we found you in time!” Chex exclaimed. “Are you all right, Esk?”

  “What’v thiv?” Volney asked.

  “A bare-bottomed hussy!” Latia exclaimed. “And a bundle of bones!”

  Esk snapped alert. “Don’t say anything embarrassing!” he cried. “These are my acquaintances in the gourd!” For Marrow and Bria were with him, still holding his hands.

  “That’s right,” Chex said. “Whatever a visitor to the world of the gourd is in contact with when he departs it, accompanies him. These are gourd folk.”

  The skeleton and the brassie seemed dazed now. It was Esk’s turn to take charge. “On my right hand is Bria Brassie,” he said. “On my left, Marrow Bones. They were on the Lost Path. Bria and Marrow, these are my friends in Xanth normal: Chex Centaur, Volney Vole, and Latia Curse Fiend.”

  The several named parties nodded in turn. Then Chex assessed the situation. “I believe we can return Marrow and Bria to their own world. Esk, you have simply to hold their hands and look into the peephole; then, inside, release them, and we shall break your eye contact so that you return alone.”

  “And where will that leave us?” Bria demanded indignantly. “On the Lost Path—where we can’t escape?”

  “But this is not your world,” Chex protested. “Everything is different here.”

  “I wanted to explore this world anyway,” Bria said.

  Marrow shrugged. “I think I am no more lost here than I was on the Lost Path. At such time as some one of you peeks in a gourd and locates the Haunted Garden, you can return me there directly.”

  “But the gourd is locked onto the same scene,” Chex said. “Each time Esk peeps, he will find himself exactly where he was before.”

  “Agreed,” Marrow said. “But you others will have different scenes, and perhaps one of them will be the one I require.”

  Chex nodded agreement. “Yes, we can do that now. Ordinarily I would not voluntarily look into a hypnogourd, but this seems to be a constructive exception.” She reached down and picked up the gourd. “Free me after only a moment, please,” she said, and put her eye to the peephole.

  She froze in place. Esk disengaged from Bria and Marrow, and put his hand over the peephole, interrupting Chex’s vision.

  The centaur resumed animation. “I was in a region of paper objects,” she said. “Some exceedingly elaborate constructions; I had no idea that paper could achieve such configurations!”

  “Wrong set,” Esk said. He took the gourd and held it down for Volney.

  The Vole looked, and froze. Then Esk covered the peephole, and Volney returned to life. “An endlevv vheet of fluid,” he reported. “Very pretty, but I think not correct for theve folk.”

  Esk held the gourd up for Latia. She looked, and froze; then, when Esk broke the line of sight, she grimaced. “A great wide plain, with black equine shapes on the horizon,” she said.

  “The pasture of the night mares!” Esk exclaimed. “Just what I was looking for—but no longer need!”

  “It seems that we cannot help these visitors at the moment,” Chex said. “Perhaps if they do not mind remaining with us for a time, we can find some other person whose gourd orientation is more relevant.”

  “That’s fine,” Bria said. “I shall be happy to spend some time here.”

  “But you will have to dress decently,” Latia said.

  “What?”

  “Different conventions!” Esk said quickly to Bria. “She only means that here it will be better if you wear a dress.”

  “That’s right,” Marrow said. “You do wear clothing here.”

  “I don’t,” Chex said.

  “Humanoids wear clothing, mostly,” Esk said.

  “I suppose we shouldn’t embarrass the world we visit,” Bria said reluctantly.

  “There is a broadcloth tree close by,” Latia said. “I can readily make you clothing from that.” She glanced at Marrow. “And if I can find some herringbone material, that should do nicely for you.” Latia set off for the fabric, trailed by the two from the gourd.

  “Broadcloth and herringbone,” Chex murmured. “She has a special sense of alignment.”

  “The curse fiends are very conscious of the proprieties,” Esk agreed. “I gather she rendezvoused with you and Volney, and then Volney sniffed me out?”

  “Exactly. We did not realize that you would return with company, but perhaps it is for the best. I gather you were unsuccessful in your quest for a solution to the problem of the Kiss-Mee River?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. But I can still ask the ogres for help.”

  “We must eat and compare notes,” she said, “then decide what to do in the morning.”

  “Yes. I am eager to hear how the two of you fared.” Indeed, he was glad to be back with familiar company. But still his mind kept flirting with the experience he had had with Bria’s mode of apology. He had returned from the gourd, his body intact, but his mind had hardly settled yet. He wished he could talk to someone about that.

  “She seems like a nice enough girl, and quite well formed,” Chex remarked, as if reading his mind. “But she is not of your world, Esk.”

  Chapter 10. Cheiron

  Chex trotted south, carrying Marrow on her back. She was headed for her sire’s region, and the skeleton would not have been able to keep up afoot.

  Actually, Marrow did not look like a skeleton now. Latia had worked up an effective suit of herringbone cloth, and picked him a pair of stout slippers and a pair of thick gloves that extended well up past his wrists. He looked very much like a living man, except for his skull, and even that could be masked by the hat and scarf. Fortunately he did not weigh very much, even bundled up like this, because he was all bone.

  They had discussed it the prior night, after exchanging stories of recent adventures. They had decided to distribute the new additions to the group among the original members, with the fiend woman and brass girl accompanying Esk, and the skeleton accompanying Chex. The vole was tunneling alone, again; it was too difficult for any of the others to keep pace with him deep underground. Perhaps this time they would be able to obtain some more solid commitment of assistance. They would meet in seven days, as before, and see where they stood. One way or another, they intended to rescue the Kiss-Mee River from its unhappy plight.

  It was possible that Marrow would not remain with her long, for they had agreed to ask any other folk they met to look in a gourd, and to conduct Marrow there if either the horror house or the haunted garden were found, because the two were adjacent. Meanwhile, she was happy to talk with him, because like all centaurs she was curious about anything that was out of th
e ordinary.

  “How is it that you hold together without flesh or tendons?” she inquired.

  “That is the nature of skeletal magic,” he explained. “The toe bone is connected to the foot bone, and the foot bone is connected to the ankle bone, and the ankle bone is connected to the leg bone—”

  “I grasp the connection,” she cut in wryly. “I suppose it is that same magic that animates you?”

  “Of course. Just as the magic of life animates your flesh. Doesn’t it become quite hot in there, with such a ponderous mass of flesh encasing you?”

  “We have become acclimatized to it,” she said with a private smile. “How is that you are able to speak, when you have no lungs, no throat, no mouth?”

  “It is just part of the magic. Certain motions of the jaw produce certain sounds, and we learn to control these when young, until we become proficient. The full process takes several years, but we consider it part of the art of growing up.”

  “Of growing up? You mean, there are child skeletons too?”

  “Of course. Did you suppose we were fashioned whole from air?”

  “I thought you were the remains of formerly living folk.”

  “The remains of living folk? What an appalling notion!”

  “No offense was intended, Marrow,” she said quickly. “We of the outer world don’t have much direct contact with you of the gourd, so are ignorant about many things. I apologize if—”

  “No apology required,” he said quickly. “Of course you did not know; that is why you asked.”

  Chex remembered something that Esk had mentioned in passing. “About apology—is it true that your kind does it by kissing?”

  “Of course not! Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Perhaps I misconstrued a reference. Esk said something about the brassies—”

  “They do it their way, of course. Bria embarrassed Esk, so she kissed him.”

  “Skeletons don’t do it that way?” This was interesting!

  “Certainly not. How could we kiss?”