“Willow, will you marry me?”
Suddenly her bearings were gotten. “Yes!” She hugged him and kissed him, and little hearts floated out.
“Oh, look!” Karen cried, spying a heart as it floated by her nose. “Little hearts! They're engaged!”
Then everyone looked, and there was applause.
Nimby was glad the Good Magician had not come in person, because he would have had some hard questions for Nimby. It was not easy to keep the truth from Humfrey, who was the Magician of Information. Obviously the Good Magician knew that Nimby had asked Willow to help herd Happy Bottom north. But, as obviously, he had not fathomed Nimby's full nature. Yet.
The party began, and everyone had an excellent time.
Nimby danced with Chlorine, and it was wonderful. She had not been an expert dancer, but he quietly made her so, knowing it was her wish. Then she danced with other males, dazzling them, and he danced with other females.
Meanwhile Princess Electra, her royal duties done, reverted to blue jeans and then to (gasp)! shorts, and went out with Jenny and the children to pig out on pies. If anyone noticed, anyone had the sense to ignore this infraction of protocol.
Willow's winged parents arrived from their flying elm tree, and met Sean and his family. They did not seem completely thrilled about her betrothal to a land-bound Mundane, but quickly saw that the situation was hopeless, as Willow adamantly refused to take any love-nullifying potion. They also grudgingly appreciated the fact that Sean's family had helped save Xanth from destruction; that was worth something. So they would live with it.
Somewhere amidst it all King Dor formally presented Jim Baldwin with a Certificate of Thanks for the family's volunteer effort to save Xanth from yon Ill Wind, now confined to the Region of Air. “Without you and your traveling house, and the special effort of all of your family members and pets, we could not have done it,” the King concluded. “We owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, and regret that we have no way to reward you that will be effective in your homeland. But be assured you will be welcome here at any time you choose to return.”
“Return?” Jim asked blankly.
“When you use the pass Magician Humfrey gave Willow,” the King explained. “Any of you will be able to accompany her and Sean when they visit. Your three pets are included, of course.”
“Woof!” Woofer agreed.
“That's telling them, mutt!” the floor under him agreed.
Jim looked at his wife. “We might wish to visit,” Mary said cautiously.
“Yea!” Karen exclaimed.
In time the festivities wore out, and folk retired to their rooms in the castle and temporary rooms set up around it.
Folk pretended not to notice how Sean and Willow shared one of those rooms. “She's a good young woman,” was all Mary would say.
“He's a good young man,” Willow's mother said with similar reservation. The two women, one Mundane, the other winged, exchanged a glance that transcended cultures. That was enough.
In the morning the family and Willow piled into the RV and headed for the trollway, waved on their way by a King, a Queen, and a number of Princesses. The Demoness Mentia went also, to make sure that they found a suitable gas guzzler and suffered no other problems. They also had the Mundane addresses of Dug and Kim, two others who had visited Xanth and knew something about it. Some of them would surely be visiting again.
Then Chlorine knew it was time for her to go home; her big adventure—bigger than she had really expected—was over. Her folks might be wondering where she was. So, reluctantly, she bid farewell to the royalty and set off for the backwoods, riding Nimby in dragon form.
When they got close. Chlorine had a notion. “I know this is all about to end. Nimby,” she said. “You promised me one good adventure, and you certainly delivered it.
You have things of your own to do, and can't take forever catering to my whims. But at least I'd like to show you to my family, before you go away forever. Will that be all right?”
Nimby nodded. It was all right because anything she wanted was all right, by the terms of his situation. But far more hung on her decision than she realized—and he could not tell her that.
“So okay, I'm taking my medicine and declaring this wonderful adventure over,” she said, and at that point she reverted to her natural appearance and nature. “You are free to do whatever you want, with my thanks. But if you will be kind enough to wait here until I can bring my family to see you, I'll really appreciate it. It's been great, Nimby.” Her reversion hadn't quite registered yet, so she was still being nice. Then she turned and marched away from him, not looking back because she was afraid she would break down and ask for what she thought to be impossible: a permanent life as a lovely, smart, healthy, and nice woman.
And Nimby lost his power of motion and magic. All that remained was his awareness of all things in Xanth, but he could no longer affect them in any way. He had been reduced to a donkey-headed hulk,, and would remain so until he rotted away, unless Chlorine should shed her tear for him. And why should she do that, knowing it would blind her?
The Demon X(AN)th was depressed because he was about to lose his wager, and with it his governance of the Land of Xanth. Some other Demon would take it over, and might change it or destroy it, because no other Demon cared about it the way X(AN)th did. For he had indeed come to care for it, very much. And therein lay another irony, for he had also fallen in love with Chlorine.
Of course, he knew that the beautiful, smart, healthy, nice edition was a creation of his magic. He had made her, literally. But he had done it by her request, to her specifications. She had become the woman she chose to be, when she had the option. Therefore the seeds of it had been within her; she had known her deficiencies, and acted to eliminate them. Chlorine, as she had been the past few days, was what she would be always, given the chance.
And it was Chlorine Ideal that he loved. She was just the perfect woman. In all but one respect—the one she hadn't thought of. And that was the capacity to love. Her hard life had washed that out along with her tears, until only a vestige remained. And so she did not love him back. He knew it, because he knew her mind as no other did. And without that love, she would never shed a tear for anyone other than herself.
X(A/N)th himself had not known the meaning of love, before this adventure. He had not cared about anyone or anything except himself and his competitive ranking among Demons. But in order to win Chlorine's love he had had to learn about love, and in the course of that he learned how.
It had not been easy or sudden, because Chlorine herself did not truly understand it. She thought that love came automatically with beauty and niceness. She was mistaken; such things merely facilitated it. So she had practiced her craft, impressing young males by displaying teasing portions of her healthy body and clothing. She had teased Nimby, too, and indeed she had been interesting, and he would have liked to summon the stork with her. But storks were not identical to love; they were more like fellow travelers. There could be storks without love, and love without storks. Chlorine had finally realized that distinction, and broken off the effort, and in that decision had sown the seed of what she lacked. She had realized that she was coming to care for him enough to make playing unkind, but she hadn't realized what she was actually searching for.
It was the Mundane family Baldwin that had begun to show him the immense potential depth and breadth of love.
The children's love for their pets, and Mary's love for the children. Neither had anything to do with storks, but in their subtle ways they were as significant. Any member of that family was prepared to die to protect any other member. Not all of them realized it, such as David, but it was true. X(A/N)th had studied that quiet underlying emotion, laboring to understand it, and gradually had succeeded.
Mary had helped him most, by showing her concern for everyone, even for him, when he had come in soiled from the meatier shower. She had treated him like a son, and though he was infinitely older
than she, he had appreciated it. She had cared for him, and thereby shown him how to care for her. It was a kind of commitment that required no magic; it was just there, like water seeping silently through ground. But it was the base on which the more dramatic forms of love were laid.
Such as that between Sean and Willow. True, it had been sponsored by a dip in a love spring. But neither would have been affected as they were, if they had not had solid family love first. They had understood the aspects of love, and were ready when suddenly it caught fire.
Otherwise the water would merely have caused them to mate uncontrollably, summoning as many storks as they could in a short time, and then to separate, the mood expended, in the manner of animals. Instead they had resisted the mating urge for the sake of a larger commitment that they were, ironically, unable to make. For the love they wished to realize in its entirety.
It had taken X(A/N)th some time to analyze that, and to emulate it to be sure that he did understand it. But that turned out to be a door that, once opened, could not be closed again. He loved Chlorine.
Now she had ended the adventure, without knowing its significance. Unable to love herself, she had not appreciated how a donkey-headed dragon could love her. It had all been for fun, as she saw it, a glorious adventure of the type Princesses were wont to have. Indeed, she had danced with a Prince, and conversed with a King, and not made a fool of herself. This was her notion of the ultimate. Now it was over, and she was going home. And Nimby was dying.
Perhaps it had been doomed from the start. From the time he had allowed his attention to wander, and had addressed the wrong young woman. The one without tears.
But somehow he could not regret that now, because he could not have loved the other woman more than he loved Chlorine. Though he lost the bet, and his status, and the Land of Xanth, he had gained something infinitely precious in return: the knowledge and substance of love. Perhaps it was worth it.
Yet how different it might have been. Had Chlorine possessed just a smidgen more awareness of the true nature of love, she might then have asked for an enhanced capacity, and then she might have learned to love him. But as it was, she merely liked him. And so his mission here was doomed.
Had she been able to shed her last tear for him, he would have won, and then what a great and wonderful surprise he would have had for her! He would have made her all that she had wanted to be, and so much more, more than she had ever imagined. She could have become the Goddess of Xanth, below only himself, because he could not make her a Demon. All knowledge, all power, and all joy, too, could have been hers. He would have assumed any form she wanted, especially the handsome Nimby-man one, and obliged her in any way she wished. He could have given her any magic talent she wished, being no longer limited by fear of discovery of his nature. But perhaps most important of all, he would have given her his love, and enabled her to love him in return, in the manner of Sean and Willow. And in thanks for the way those two had showed him how gloriously complete true love could be, he would have given Sean the talent of flying without wings in Xanth, so he could share Willow's life completely. No one else could do such a thing, but the Demon X(A/N)th had all magic power in his own land, and he knew now that a favor done required a favor returned.
Everything, everything, could have been Chlorine's, for herself and her friends who had helped her battle the Ill Wind. Even those who had come in late, like Adam and Keaira, who were now discovering a romance of their own.
He knew the parts all of them had played, and could reward them all.
All lost, for want of a tear.
He spread his awareness. Chlorine had arrived home, in her homely bad-natured form. She tried to tell her mother about her adventure.
“Where's that sprig of thyme you were supposed to fetch, you disreputable wench?” her shrewish mother demanded, slapping her. She did that often, because she knew the girl didn't dare hit back.
Chlorine had completely forgotten about that. In fact, she didn't even remember that she hadn't been the one sent for a sprig of thyme; that was Miss Fortune. Chlorine had gone for a bow from a bow-vine. But the two had collided, and gotten confused, and proceeded on each other's missions. “I—I got distracted,” she said, realizing just how awful her family life had been. Why had she ever bothered to return to this?
“Distracted?” her brutish father asked. “Did you sneak out to see a stupid boy?” A stupid boy. That was about as far from the truth as it was possible to get.
“Not exactly. You see I encountered a funny-looking dragon who changed into a handsome man, and made me beautiful, and we had the most wonderful adventure and helped save Xanth from the Ill Wind, and—”
“Shut up!” he shouted, lifting his hand to knock some respect into her. “Don't try to tell me any crazy fantastic story! Where's this oaf?”
Chlorine realized that they were not about to listen, so she tried another tack. “Out near the thyme plant. Do you want to meet him?”
“Sure I do,” her father said, fetching his club from the wall. “I'll bash his head into pulp! You don't deserve any man.”
Bash Nimby? Gross chance! She did not realize that Nimby was now immobile. So she led them back to where Nimby lay. “There he is,” she said. “The dragon who made me beautiful and gave me the best adventure of my life. Now do you believe me?”
“A dragon ass!” the man exclaimed, recognizing the species immediately, because it was so close to his own type. “We don't want that kind here. Not in my back yard.
We'll destroy it.” He bashed Nimby on the head with his club, but it made no difference. Nimby could not move, but neither was he vulnerable to the weak strength of a dissipated mortal man. Only time would wipe him out, or a hot fire.
“It's already dead, you fool,” Chlorine's mother said.
“Soon it'll begin to stink.”
“Then we'll burn it,” the man decided. “Come on, pile up some brush round it.” He and his wife got to work gathering dry brush.
Chlorine was stunned. “Nimby—what's the matter with you?” she cried. “Get up, get away from here! I'll go with you. Maybe we can have another adventure somewhere else.”
But Nimby didn't move. He had lost that power.
“So you're slacking off, as usual, you slut,” Chlorine's father said. “Just for that, you will have the privilege of doing the final honor.” He brought out a torch, and lit it.
“You will set fire to the pyre. Let that be a lesson to you.”
He shoved the blazing torch into Chlorine's somewhat flaccid hand.
“Nimby!” she cried, a strange emotion rising in her.
“Get up! Get away! Don't let them kill you!”
But Nimby just lay there, unable to respond. If only she had been able to fathom the one thing she needed to!
“Do it, girl, or you'll get a beating the like of Which you won't forget!” her father said grimly.
Chlorine realized that she had no choice. She was back in the real world of Xanth, no longer in the dreamworld of beauty and Princesses and great adventures. She was subject to the brutish whims of her family, and she herself was rather more like them than she liked. For a while she had been nice as well as beautiful, but now she was neither. She wished she could have loved and been loved while she was worthy of it, yet somehow she hadn't known how to make it happen. Why hadn't she thought to ask Nimby? So she had squandered her chance even for that.
She was a loser. Her best bet was to burn up the dragon and be done with illusions of grandeur.
She lowered the torch. But as she gazed directly upon Nimby's ugly donkey head, a despairing realization came.
““I'm not beautiful, I'm not nice, I'm no good, I'm poison, like my talent—but for a while you made me seem otherwise. I owe you that wonderful dream that never could be. I owe the Mundane family too, because they showed me how good a family could be. I think maybe I could learn to love like that, given half a chance. Oh, Nimby, I don't know what happened to you, but I fear it's my fault.
Maybe I poisoned your water by accident when I reverted to my normal nature. It's too late now to make amends, and I'd mess it up if I tried. But now I know I love you in my worthless way, and if I can't gaze on you, I don't care if I never see anything again! In fact, I'll join you in this pyre, so maybe my third-rate spirit can be near yours.
Nimby, I beg you, forgive me for messing you up.” She touched the torch to the brush, and the pyre flamed high, heating her face, singeing her hair.
And the two halves of her only remaining tear flowed from her eyes, blinding them, and merged on her nose, and that tear fell.
****
Piers Anthony, Yon Ill Wind
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