"It's beautiful," Surprise said. She glanced at Umlaut. "Put it on my toe. I'll transfer it when I revert."
"But how do we know this ring is okay?" he asked. "Maybe it's magic."
"Of course it's magic!" Metria said. "All these old lost treasures are. Maybe it summons demons." She paused, startled. "Bite my tongue!" She chomped down on her tongue, and the tip of it dropped into the boat,
"But if it's dangerous—"
Metria grew a new tongue tip. "I wouldn't do that to you. Not for a betrothal. In fact I don't really want to do to you what I've been doing, but—" Her eyes flicked to Ted and away before the child could notice. Evidently she hadn't told him about that aspect. "I love weddings. I had my own, you know; that's where I got my half soul, which I then shared with Ted. Have you any idea how many times we had to signal the stork before we got its attention? A few more years of that could become wearing. Ted's one of a kind." Then, reminded of the threat to him, she clouded up. Her body became a vertical column of fog and her head a thunderhead.
Umlaut concluded that the ring was probably safe; the demoness did seem sincere. He took the ring and slipped it on Surpise's bird claw. "With this ring I thee betroth."
"That's so sweet! My folks will have two and a half fits when they see me wearing this! Well, I have to kiss and fly. I love you."
"I love you," he echoed gladly. This had been sudden but welcome.
She spread her wings and lurched toward him for a kiss. He met her halfway, but she was flying too high and his face collided with her breasts. They were remarkably soft. "Not there, dummy," she chided him. "Yet. Wait for the wedding." She slid down and managed to kiss him on the face. Then she was gone, flying for home, leaving him dazed. Had she been in fully human form, he would have freaked utterly out, but harpies weren't as freakable in that manner, any more than centaur fillies or nymphs.
"Bet she did that on purpose," Ted said zestfully. "She smacked his face."
But DeMonica was cannier. "On purpose, yes. Smack, no. She was making sure he wouldn't forget to marry her."
"Of course," Metria agreed, reforming. "She's young, but a woman."
She certainly was. He was engaged to marry her, eventually. Umlaut's day did not let go of him for some time. He recovered awareness when day became night and it was time to camp. The children were gone; Metria must have taken them home.
He heard snoring, but it wasn't any of the others. So where was it coming from? He tried to stand up in the boat to look around better but discovered that his feet were asleep. They were doing the snoring. He should have known.
But with night came more mischief. There was the beat of hoofs on the ground, and two horses charged in, pursued by several human villagers with spears. Claire read the situation immediately: Those were Khan and Smuggler, new from Mundania. They came through the Region of Madness, and the men started hunting them. They didn't know what to do.
That snapped Umlaut the rest of the way back to reality. "The good dreams!" he exclaimed. "I mean, the loss of bad dreams. People are doing more bad things without fear of consequences. We have to stop them."
He went into ogre emulation and Sesame into dragon mode. They intercepted the men and drove them off. Then Sesame emulated an equine and reassured the horses that they were safe for the night. But stay clear of humans, she warned them. They might have been the horses' friends in Mundania, but they weren't here.
They had alleviated this problem, but what of the rest of Xanth? Umlaut knew that people must be getting worse all over. All because his news had caused the Night Stallion to depart for a time. He hoped the stallion returned soon, lest everything be ruined even before the Red Spot struck.
Next day they reached the Good Magician's Castle. This time there were no challenges; they were, after all, already performing a task for the Good Magician. Para swam across the moat and waddled into the castle.
Wira met them at the gate. "Why, Para," she said, "how nice to meet you again. And Claire Voyant." She turned to Umlaut. "You have delivered the letters already?" She could not see them, but surely she recognized the sound of Para's duck feet on the ground. How she had known who was in the boat Umlaut could only guess. Probably a sighted person had seen them coming and told her.
"Almost," Umlaut said. "I have one for the Good Magician himself."
"Oh, that's nice. I'll see if he's available. Here is the Gorgon." She disappeared into the gloom as they joined the Gorgon.
"It has been very busy here recently," the tall veiled woman confided. "Things are going wrong all over."
"I know," Umlaut said. "The bad dreams have stopped, and people are doing bad things."
"That is only part of it. Entirely inappropriate talents are being assigned to new babies." The little snakes that served in lieu of her hair wriggled, intriguing Sesame.
"How can any talent be inappropriate?"
She laughed. "How about the talent of breaking things, for the child of a family of egg and crystal polishers? Of making big balls of gas for the child of a mining family that must avoid gas? Of making things heavy for a flying centaur? Of projecting videos for a blind baby?"
Umlaut saw her point. "I guess it takes time to break in a Magician of Talents."
"But what about those children as they grow up with useless or dangerous talents? Can we afford to wait out that break-in process?"
"I don't, uh, know," Umlaut said unhappily.
Wira reappeared. "Magician Humfrey will see you now."
They followed her up the winding stairway to the gloomy, cramped den where the Good Magician sat hunched over his monstrous tome.
"Magician, Umlaut has a letter to deliver to you," Wira said. Then, privately to Umlaut: "He's very grumpy today. Don't say anything to annoy him."
The old gnomelike man glanced at her, and his sour features sweetened somewhat. "Give it here."
"Yes, Magician." Wira took the letter from Umlaut and handed it to the magician.
He paused to read it. "That woman has a problem." He turned pages of the Book of Answers. He found the place and read the Answer. "The clock is correct; it is Arjayess who is wrong."
Umlaut considered that Answer and wasn't satisfied. "Is a clock supposed to bong thirteen times in Mundania?"
"Of course not," Humfrey said. "There's no magic there, and Mundanes lack imagination. In Xanth there can be any number, but twelve is the limit there."
"But then what does the Answer mean?"
"It means she miscounted," Humfrey said, on the verge of a grump.
Umlaut remained uncertain. "Claire, is that right?"
Claire shrugged. She could not fathom the reality of a situation that wasn't close to her.
"Please, don't annoy him," Wira pleaded.
"But the letter," Umlaut said. "You can verify that. If she's wrong, then her letter must be wrong too."
Claire nodded and walked across the chamber. She jumped up onto the desk and sniffed the letter resting there.
"What is this?" Humfrey grouched.
But Claire had her answer: She did not miscount.
"She did not miscount," Umlaut repeated. "But that suggests that the Book of Answers is wrong!"
Claire sniffed the book and nodded: It was wrong. Wira, picking up the emanations, winced. How would it be possible to head off a calamitous grump if this continued?
"Ridiculous, Cat!" Humfrey snapped, his annoyance threatening to pass beyond mere grumps. "The Book of Answers is the final authority on everything."
But Umlaut trusted Claire's voyancy. "Ask it a Question to which you absolutely know the answer," he suggested. "Such as who is the Magician of Information?"
Humfrey was plainly on the verge of a volcanic grump but perhaps realized that the fastest way to get rid of this nuisance was to oblige him. He turned the pages and read: " 'Sorceress Iris.' "
There it was. "Not Magician Humfrey?"
Humfrey cogitated. He was very old, and his thoughts were slow and somewhat ossified, like his grump
s, but in time they got there. "That Answer is wrong."
"So what you have there is a Book of Wrong Answers," Umlaut said. "How did that happen?"
"It couldn't happen," Humfrey grumped.
Yet obviously it had.
Claire had the answer: There was reverse wood under the book. "Reverse wood," Umlaut said, translating for her.
Humfrey pondered for a long moment, or perhaps two short moments, then slowly closed the book. There, where the cover had covered it, was a sliver of wood. "Take this away."
Wira came and picked up the sliver. Then she turned and walked into the wall. Oops, the wood had reversed her sense of direction, or her mental layout of the castle, and she had gone the wrong way. Of course.
"I can't find my way out," Wira said.
"Maybe you can put it where it will reverse something that needs reversing," Umlaut said. He looked at the shelves behind the Good Magician and saw a bottle labeled CONCENTRATED STINK HORN EXTRACT. That would surely be Xanth's worst smell. He fetched it down and took it to Wira. "In here." He turned the cork in the bottle.
"Don't open that!" Wira cried.
She was too late. Concentrated utter stench oozed from the bottle and began to spread in an ugly little cloud. Umlaut quickly took the sliver of reverse wood and slid it into the bottle, then jammed the cork back in.
The label changed: BIFFUSE SWEET ROSE INTRACT. The wood had reversed the contents of the bottle. Umlaut set it back on the shelf.
But meanwhile the cloud of stench was diffusing and expanding. It smirched Umlaut's arm, making it look ogreish. Then it touched Wira's hair, making it look as if she had just worked two years in dragon manure without even thinking of washing. Then it reached their noses.
Umlaut couldn't remember when he had smelled a worse stink. The fetor was so rank it transcended mere malodor and reeked to low hell. It gave the very concept of foul a puny name. Could saving Xanth possibly be worth this putrid odor? The others were quietly choking. He had forgotten that actions had consequences, and this was one such.
Then Umlaut got another notion. He grabbed the bottle again and twisted out the cork. The divine diffuse rose smell wafted out and spread, nullifying the corruption. Soon they were able to breathe free again.
"Thank you," Humfrey said.
Wira wobbled. Umlaut caught her before she fainted from the shock. He understood her problem: It was the first time she had heard the Good Magician say those words to a visitor. She hadn't known it was possible.
"You're welcome," Umlaut said, pleased. He had accomplished something worthwhile. That was rare.
Chapter 19
Rorrim
The Gorgon met them downstairs. "You must be just about done with your deliveries," she remarked.
"I have just one more letter," Umlaut agreed. He brought it out. "To Rorrim. I have no idea who that is."
"Then how can you deliver it?"
"Sammy can find—"
Immediately the cat took off. But Claire's warning mew caught him again in midleap, and he dropped to the floor.
The Gorgon nodded. "You manage him very well," she remarked.
Claire shrugged. It was a matter of course.
"Why did you stop him?" Umlaut asked.
Because the situation was devious, she replied.
"I love devious situations," the Gorgon said. "I remember when Humfrey tackled the Demon Xanth to get his former wife Rose of Roogna back and wound up with five and a half wives. We are still enduring the complications of that."
"What's devious about this?" Umlaut asked.
Read the letter, Claire suggested.
"Oh, uh, yes." He opened it and read:
GLASSCO IMAGERY
RORRIM:
Your actions are outrageous! Magic mirror, indeed! You have been successful in keeping yourself hidden from us for many a long year and have deceived multitudes of innocent creatures.
No longer will we watch worlds in vain. Your presence in the land called Xanth has been discovered by a young Mundane woman. During the time she—but no, this information is not, I think, for your knowledge. Just could not resist the publicity, could you? Vain, strutting peacock!
From this day forth it will be impossible to stay concealed. The item you stole from us to enhance your image shall be removed. This substance is extremely powerful, and once stripped of it you will revert to your ordinary appearance for eternity.
Your time of concealment is through. We want what is rightfully ours, and rest assured, we will retrieve it. We will arrive soon and bring you back to await trial. Know too that your accomplices will be apprehended in due course.
Appointed Elders and Council of GLASSCO IMAGERY
Umlaut looked up. "That's no friendly missive."
"It certainly isn't," the Gorgon agreed. "And it looks as though Rorrim is a magic mirror, or at least associates with one. That narrows the options somewhat. There are only so many of those in Xanth."
"But if Sammy can find the right one, we shouldn't have a problem," Umlaut said.
No, Claire clarified. The moment he tried to deliver the letter, Rorrim would flee instantly to another mirror.
"But how can I catch him, then?"
Claire sniffed the letter. The Glassco folk were from a far region.
They could track magic when it was used. That was how they discovered that Rorrim had come to Xanth. But they couldn't zero in specifically as long as he stayed put. So they sent the letter to rout him out. If Umlaut found him and delivered it, they would know his location. If he forced Rorrim to flee, they would know his location within five mirrors. If he traveled a second time, they would nail him right there. So he could flee Umlaut only once; then he must remain put, because he feared Glassco more than anything else.
"Why is he limited to mirrors?"
Claire gave him a stupid human stare and answered: He was an aspect of a magic mirror. He changed it to broaden its power. An ordinary magic mirror reflected reality, one place or another. In Mundania a mirror's magic was limited to reflecting here and now. In Xanth it reflected other places too so could be used to communicate or discover hidden reality. Rorrim refracted, showing many possible realities and time's, so could be used to see futures. But he had no substance aside from that magic; he had to reside in a magic mirror or perish.
"That's amazing," Umlaut said.
It was all part of the situation of the letter, Claire clarified. But that should have been obvious regardless, since Rorrim was mirror spelled backward.
Umlaut's jaw dropped. "I never thought of that!"
She switched her tail. Well, he was human.
So he was. "So Rorrim will flee before I can deliver the letter, and go to another magic mirror. How can we know which one?"
"We can narrow it down," the Gorgon said. "There are only five we know of in Xanth, and those must be all, because Humfrey would know if there were more. The one here at the Good Magician's Castle, the one at Castle Roogna, at Castle Zombie, the Nameless Castle, and Castle Maidragon."
"We're here, and we've been to Castle Roogna and Castle Zombie," Umlaut said. "But I never heard of the other two."
"The Nameless Castle is where Nimby and Chlorine live now. It floats on a cloud over Xanth, constantly changing its location. That's obviously where Rorrim will go. So go ahead and try to deliver your letter here, then we'll help you reach the Nameless Castle."
"Uh, okay, I guess," Umlaut said with his usual certainty. "Where—"
Sammy resumed motion. They followed him to another chamber where a mirror hung on the wall. It looked ordinary, but of course that was deceptive.
"Rorrim," Umlaut said. "I have a letter to—"
There was a flicker in the glass. He was gone, Claire indicated with a flick of her tail.
Umlaut didn't question that; it had been expected. "Now how do we get to the Nameless Castle?"
"You don't," the Gorgon said.
"But—"
"I spoke loud enough for Rorrim to hear. Since
he figures you'll look at the Nameless Castle, naturally he's gone to Castle Maidragon."
Umlaut felt even duller than usual, which was an effort. "Why?"
"So you won't find him, of course. Not without considerable loss of time, which could make all the difference. After all, you could lose the letter, or change your mind."
"I won't—"
"I hope not. Now, do you know where Castle Maidragon is?"
"I guess Sammy can find it."
"To be sure. Let me give you something to eat along the way as you travel."
Umlaut finally figured out the rest of his objection. "What about Castle Roogna and Castle Zombie? Why couldn't he be there?"
"Because the three little princesses are at the first, and they would quickly catch on to his nature and ruin his anonymity. The zombies are at the second, and he won't like the way they clean him off with liquid putrefaction. Castle Maidragon, in contrast, is clean and private. It's his only satisfactory choice."
"That must be right," Umlaut agreed. "Thank you for your logic. It's so much better than mine."
Her little snakes writhed with pleasure. "Let me get those goodies." She left.
Soon they were on their way, the boat stocked with Gorgonzola cheese and assorted breads and pastries. Umlaut concluded that he liked the Gorgon.
It was some distance south, and they had to spend a night on the trail. They stopped at a camping site, ate, washed, and settled in a giant nest to sleep. Sesame curled around it, her body forming a pillow for Umlaut. Para preferred to float on the surface of a passing stream, and the two cats disappeared into the night on feline business.
"Umlaut."
He woke with a start. That was Surprise's voice. He quickly climbed out of the nest, not disturbing Sesame, and looked around in the darkness. "Surprise."
"Oh, Umlaut, I'm so glad I found you!" she said, hugging him. Her body was surprisingly bouncy.
"How did you come here? I thought you couldn't repeat talents."
"This time I took the form of a nymph," she said. "That's not the same as a harpy. Here, feel me." She took his hand and passed it along her body, and he almost freaked out. It was definitely nymphly.