He remained taken aback. "Uh, yes, of course. I'm Umlaut. What uh, is your name?"
"Surprise."
"Yes, you surprised me. But what I was asking—"
"You're cute." She stepped into him and kissed him. There was no wine in it, but it made him feel remarkably good. Then, while he stood half stunned by her gesture, she explained: "My name is Surprise Golem. That's because I was a surprise. The storks had a horrible confusion, and by the time I was delivered I was five years old and could already walk and talk. Grundy and Rapunzel accepted me anyway, and we went on from there. My magic was even more surprising."
Everything about her was surprising! "My, uh, talent, is emulation. When there's magic. I can make myself seem like other, uh, people."
She clapped her hands with girlish glee. "That explains it! You're emulating a socially inept boy."
Umlaut blushed. "I, uh, wasn't trying to. I mean—"
"Oh, this is so much fun! Let's walk and talk a bit." She took his hand with her nice fingers and led him on along the path. "Tell me all about yourself."
"But I'm just here to, uh, deliver a, uh, letter."
"And what kind of epistle is an 'uh' letter?"
"It's a, uh—" He stopped. "Are you making fun of me?"
"Am I doing that? I apologize." She kissed him again.
This set him back farther than the first kiss had. "You didn't, uh, need to do that."
"What, didn't you like it?"
He blushed twice as badly. "That's not the, uh, point."
"Yes it is. It's a gourd apology."
"A what?"
"Oh, you don't know about that? This is even more fun."
He tried to get angry, but it was so nice being with her that he couldn't manage it. "All that fun is at my expense."
She put on a contrite mien. "I will explain. In the gourd—you do know what the gourd is?"
"Uh, no," he admitted.
"Then I will explain that too. Come sit by me." She led him to a broad tree stump and made him sit. Then she sat beside him and put one arm around his waist.
"Why are you doing that?"
"First things first, and that's about third. First the gourd: it's known as the hypno-gourd, and it looks like an ordinary garden-variety gourd, but there's a little peephole in the end, and if you look in that, you freeze. All you can do is keep looking, and your mind is inside it, seeing all manner of weird things. That's the realm of dreams, and the night mares go there."
"Night mare," he said. "I met a day mare. They said she was called Imbri."
"Yes, she was a night, but now she's a day. She must have brought you a daydream. What was it about?"
"A girl," he said, blushing yet again.
"How sweet. Was it me?"
He looked at her, not even able to say "uh." She was the girl. He was blushing so hard and hot he was afraid the red would start peeling off his face.
"Anyway, that's the gourd," she said. "Now the denizens therein have a quaint custom that is slowly spreading to the outside. They don't apologize by words so much as by gestures. That is, a hug and a kiss. If it isn't accepted—" She broke off, glancing sharply at him. "Did you accept?"
"Accept what?" He was flustered on top of his embarrassment.
"I guess you didn't. So I have to try again. Maybe I can do it right this time. Let's get you into position." She put her fine hands on his shoulders and turned him half around on the stump, then drew him in for an embrace. Before he could get out another "uh" she kissed him, firmly and lingeringly.
There was still no wine in it, but he did feel as if he were floating. Yet he knew this wasn't right. "You're, uh, only fourteen," he said when she released him.
"That's old enough," she repeated. "Do I take this to mean that you still haven't accepted my apology?"
"I don't even remember what you're apologizing for!" he blurted.
"For teasing you. Since you haven't accepted—"
"I accept!" he cried.
"Awww, spoilsport," she said, making a cute moue.
She was still teasing him, but he decided not to make an issue of it, lest she kiss him again. Besides, he liked it.
"So that's why I'm doing this," she continued after a moment, putting her arm around his waist again. "To be in position for an apology. I trust everything is quite clear now?"
"Nothing is clear!" he exclaimed. "I came here to deliver a letter, and Rapunzel said you would have to read it to them, because it's sort of big for her to handle. So I looked for you, and all you've been doing is—teasing me."
"You really don't know," she said. "That's part of what makes it fun."
"What don't! know?"
"That you are my ideal man."
He stared at her, dumbfounded again.
She glanced modestly down at the ground, then back up to catch his gaze, and smiled. He felt a little thrill when she did that. "I think I had better go back a bit. You see, 'I have an unusual magic talent."
He started to try to speak, but she laid her finger across his lips. "I'll answer that question in a moment. My talent is to be able to do anything—once. That is, I can make myself fly, but after I'm done, I can't invoke that ability again. It's gone. I can conjure a chocolate pie to eat, and it will be an excellent pie, but thereafter I can never do that again. And so on. I have all the talents in Xanth, but every one I use, I lose. I was brokenhearted when I discovered that, as you might imagine. If I live long enough, I will be entirely out of magic. Unless I never use my talents—in which case, what good are they?" She looked pensive.
"I don't know," Umlaut said. "I'm sorry."
"So am I. The thing is, we use our talents automatically in Xanth; it's part of our natures. I'm sure you do emulations whenever you need them."
"Yes."
"So if I was hungry, I'd use a new way to fetch a pie. If I wanted to go somewhere, I'd use another way to do it. There are many variants of each talent, so I could fly by flapping my arms, or by making myself light enough to float, as the winged centaurs do, or by magnetically repelling the ground so that I pushed off from it. But each time, I lost another talent. I was afraid I'd be out of the best ones before I ever grew up and joined the Adult Conspiracy." She glanced at him. "Do you belong?"
"Uh, not quite. I'm seventeen."
"But you know that a significant part of it is knowing the signal to summon the stork, and not believing in monsters under the bed, and losing your taste for meals consisting entirely of candy, and being able to say bad words—all those supremely dull things that make adults adult?"
"Yes. I dread it."
"So do I. The last thing I want is to lose all my magic talents before I turn adult, because then I'd have none of the joys of childhood left. So I knew I had to protect my talents, even from myself. That's why we moved here, where there is no magic. So I can't waste them inadvertently."
"That does make sense," he agreed. He was feeling more at ease in her presence.
"But the fact is, I will turn adult in time, and I figure it will be a lot less worse if I have a good man to love. Of course at my age I have no inkling of what real love is; my parents have assured me of that. But they also say that the right partner can make all the difference, and seeing them together, I believe it. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he said before he thought. "I mean—"
"Oh, don't take it back! So you dreamed of your ideal girl, just as I dreamed of my ideal boy. Then just a few hours ago I wandered near the edge of the magic region, and a demoness appeared. She tried to be anonymous, but she had trouble with her words—"
"Metria!"
"You got it. She told me that my ideal man was on the way and would arrive any day now. And here you are."
"But I'm not ideal. I'm really not much of anything."
"Metria also told me that you were unreasonably modest. I like that too."
"I've got a lot to be modest about! I mean, because I don't have anything to be proud of."
"And she warned me that you had a doubl
e helping of decency. She thought that was a liability. I don't."
He was surprised. "You, uh, don't?"
"She said you kissed two women just because you knew it would make them feel good."
"Well, uh, yes, but—"
"And that you helped the fauns & nymphs just because they needed it."
"Uh, yes, but anyone would have done that."
"Not just anyone, I think."
"But—"
"Oh, shut up." But before he could do that, she did it for him, by covering his mouth with another kiss.
When the little hearts stopped orbiting his head, he tried once more to clarify that he wasn't remarkable. "I'm just delivering letters. It's sheer coincidence."
"Very little in Xanth is coincidence. So I knew who you were the moment I saw you come down the garden path."
"But I'm not anything special, let alone ideal! In fact I'm a klutz."
"I noticed. I like it."
"You can't be serious. A girl as pretty and talented as you, you can do so much better."
"I don't want better. I want appreciation and understanding as my magic diminishes and my age increases. I want a malleable man I can do anything I want with, who will like whatever I do. Who will still love me when all my magic is gone. What do you want?"
"In a girl? I, uh, I guess maybe the same. But—"
"There's always a but," she said. "That's part of the beauty of it."
"You won't like this." He realized that, horrendously against his better judgment, he was falling into the pattern she described. She was exactly the kind of girl he wanted. "I don't seem to have a past. I mean I can't remember anything before I started this mission, and others tell me I don't exist. There's something wrong with me."
"Nothing that love can't fix, I'm sure."
"I don't know. I—"
Then she kissed him again, and all remaining resistance crumbled. It didn't matter that all this was very sudden and completely unexpected on his part. She had overwhelmed him. "Oh, Surprise," he said. "Whatever there is of me, you can have. If you really want it. I'm mal—mal—soft putty in your ringers. But—"
"I know. We have to join the Adult Conspiracy first. I think I can manage that in two years; the age isn't quite fixed. Meanwhile we can have our understanding and feel what we feel."
"And feel what we feel," he agreed, his head spinning. "May I— is it all right if I—that is, uh—"
"Yes, you may kiss me," she agreed. Then they both laughed. And kissed.
Chapter 12
Grossclout
They arrived back at the little house. Now Grundy Golem was there too, standing beside his wife. "Surprise!" Rapunzel cried, her size diminishing her annoyance not half a whit. "Your hair is all mussed. What have you been up to?"
"Oops," Surprise murmured, fetching out a comb and straightening her disarrayed tresses. "We'll have to confess." She did not seem overly concerned.
"It's my fault," Umlaut said gallantly.
"Nonsense," Rapunzel said, and he realized that even at this he had messed up. She gave her daughter a stern glare. "Well?"
"Oh, Mother, he's the One," Surprise said.
The woman's endless hair seemed to change color, though of course that couldn't happen without magic. "How can you possibly know that?"
"The Demoness Metria told me my ideal man was coming today, so I knew. And here he is."
"And you believed her? That demoness is full of nothing but mischief."
"Why would she bother? She doesn't care about my life,"
Ouch. Umlaut hated the need, but had to speak up. "She may be trying to stop me from delivering the letters. There have been other things."
"Why stop the letters?" Rapunzel asked, fixing him with a stare that left figurative welts on his guilty face.
"I don't know. But the first one went to the Demon Jupiter, and it made him so mad that he threw his Red Spot at us. The Good Magician says I can find a way to stop it, if I deliver the letters. But I'm reading them first, to make sure no one else gets one to make him that mad."
"It may not be the letter that makes folk mad," Grundy said significantly.
Rapunzel turned to her daughter. "So you see, it may have been a setup."
Surprise looked in turn at Umlaut. "If it was, do you take it all back?"
"Take what back?" Rapunzel demanded.
This was getting more awkward by the moment, and it hadn't been easy to begin with. He was already blushing, but he couldn't deny it. "I, uh, we, uh, that is—"
"We're in love," Surprise said clearly.
Rapunzel's hair darkened another shade. "In one hour? I find that hard to believe."
"Oh, I don't know," Grundy said. "I loved you from the first, Punzel, though I didn't know it."
She dismissed that out of hand. "Well, you're a man. Fortunately we can get to the bottom of this." She faced the two cats. "Claire Voyant, is it true?"
The cat nodded.
Rapunzel looked as if she had smelled a stink horn. She looked icily at Umlaut, and her hair seemed to freeze in place. "Don't you have other letters to deliver?"
"Uh, yes," he said miserably. He had been dismissed. He turned to go.
"I'll be in touch," Surprise said.
With no magic? But how could he argue with her. "Okay." He walked away so as not to see Rapunzel's angry stare, but he felt it boring into his back. How had he ever managed to get into so much trouble? He had never sought to set mother against daughter.
And yet it seemed to be true. In only an hour he had found a girl to truly love.
They returned to the magic section. Para was waiting for them. The boat's attitude was a question: How had it gone?
"Mixed," Umlaut said. "I'll try to explain as we travel."
So where were they going next? Umlaut had no idea, so he grabbed the next letter in the pile. "Demon Professor Grossclout."
He had no idea where to find the professor, but evidently Para did. They got into the boat and started heading back south.
As they traveled, Umlaut described somewhat haltingly how he had delivered the letter, then gone to meet Surprise. And, it seemed, fallen in love with her: Sammy and Sesame were interested, as they had not heard the details before.
"She was pretty, she was nice, she was interested in me. She talked with me, she teased me, she kissed me," Umlaut said. "I uh, responded. But it seems it was set up by the Demoness Metria, maybe to distract me from delivering the next letter."
But the day mare's daydream had indicated that this was about to happen, Sesame reminded him.
"That's true," he agreed, brightening.
"You were adhesive in her hands."
Who had said that? "I was what?"
A swirl of smoke was hovering above the gunwale. "Mucilage, cement, glue, gum, paste—"
"Putty?" That had been his term for malleability.
"Whatever," the swirl agreed crossly.
"Metria, what are you doing here?"
"I heard my name. What were you saying about me?"
"That you set me up. You told Surprise that her ideal man was coming, and she thought it was me."
"Exactly. Why didn't you stay with her?"
How he wished he could have done that! "Her mother sent me away."
"Darn!" Sulfurous fumes rose from the bad word.
"So it's true!" he exclaimed. "Why are you trying to stop me from delivering the letters?" He saw the cloud quiver. "And don't fade out this time!"
To his surprise, it worked. Instead of fading, the cloud formed into the voluptuous demoness who came to rest on a seat of the boat. Her legs were toward him, not quite showing anything above the knees. Yet. "It's just something I have to do."
She admitted it! "Why?"
"What's the next letter?"
She was changing the subject, but he wasn't sure he could get a direct answer from her anyway. "To Demon Professor Grossclout."
"Oh, my," she said. "That could be fun."
"Only I don't know
how to find him."
"Let me see the letter."
"So you can destroy it undelivered? No way."
She nodded. "You are getting less stupid by the hour. Very well, read it to me."
"You think I won't?"
"I think you're in love."
That seemed like a non sequitur, but he couldn't refute it. He decided to read the letter. He brought it out.
My Dear Professor Grossclout,
This is to bring to your attention a matter of utmost importance. It is to inform you of the impropriety of behavior regarding a past student of yours.
If my information is correct—and it rarely is not—a certain demoness is now in possession of a portion of a soul. This could become a dangerous matter.
It is reported that said demoness has become CARING— a shocking event. While namby-pamby actions suit the fool humans, it is most inappropriate for the demonic race.
This deplorable situation makes us all appear simpering idiots. We demons are meant to create havoc and make as miserable as possible the lives of all with whom we come in contact. You as an instructor must surely be aware of this simple fact. You cannot possibly condone this situation. This dire state of affairs must not be allowed to continue.
This calls for immediate discipline: chastisement, punishment. She must be made to see the error of her ways. The revolting human soul must be removed.
Do something about it, Grossclout! Now! Or else!
A concerned citizen
Metria had been swelling up throughout the letter. Now she exploded, literally. She flew apart, arms, legs, head, and torso scattering across the boat and into the air above. A leg landed in Umlaut's lap. Caught by surprise, he lifted it up, not knowing what to do with it. Then it dissolved into smoke, as did the other parts of her, and the cloudlets drifted together to form a single floating mass, and that mass shaped itself back into the form of the demoness. She came to rest on the seat.
She brushed a stray hank of hair away from her face. "What a missive!"
"That makes you angry?"
"Angry? That was a detonation of laughter. Just the very thought of talking to Grossclout like that—oops, it may set me off again." She wrapped her arms about herself, as if trying to hold things together. But she lost her balance and fell backward off the seat, her legs flying up in the air. Umlaut got one compelling glimpse of her voluptuous panties.