"I, uh, thought the talent was of assuming another form. Any other form."
"No, each different form counts as another talent," she said. "Now come with me; I have made a wonderful bower."
"Bower?" he asked dully. "What for?"
"To summon the stork in, of course. Come on." She tugged on his hand.
"But I thought you didn't know how to do that."
"Nymphs know how. When I assumed this form, suddenly I knew. I am eager to celebrate with you."
"Celebrate," he repeated, remembering the way the fauns and nymphs of the Faun & Nymph Retreat had hugged and kissed. It had certainly looked like fun.
"Yes, we'll do it again and again," she said eagerly. "We'll have such fun."
Something bothered him about this, but when he tried to hold back, she kissed him again and set his hand on her bare bottom. This time he did freak out, for when he came to, they were well away from the camp and coming to her bower.
But the botheration remained. "Surprise, I don't think we ought to do this yet. We agreed to wait until you were of age."
"Oh, pooh! I decided not to wait. No one will know." She tugged him onward through the darkness.
Then she collided with something. "Eeeek!" she screamed in perfect nymphly manner, flinging her hair about. "What is this?"
There was a hiss. Umlaut recognized it. "Sesame!"
"What are you doing here?" Surprise demanded. "This is private. Get out of the way."
But Sesame continued to block their way. She hissed again, and Umlaut recognized what she was saying: How had Surprise gotten across the Gap Chasm?
That made Umlaut pause. As a harpy, she had been able to fly across it, if she had to cross it. But as a nymph she couldn't do that. So he repeated the question. "Sesame wants to know how you crossed the Gap Chasm."
"I used the invisible bridge, of course. Now get out of here, you constrictor."
"You what?" Umlaut asked.
"Snake, python, viper, reptile—"
"Serpent?"
"Whatever," she agreed crossly.
A dim bulb glowed, brushing back the darkness for a moment. "Hello, Metria."
"Oh, bleep! What gave me away?"
Now that he had confirmed his sudden suspicion, Umlaut found a number of prior indications. "I think different forms don't count as different talents, so you couldn't be Surprise. And it would have taken you all night to get here from there, with no time left over to make a bower. And Surprise would never try to entrap me like that."
"Try to what you?"
"Entice, allure, beguile, debauch, tempt—"
"Seduce?"
"Whatever," he agreed crossly,
"So you might as well let me do it, since she won't. You have no idea how much fun it can be." She tried to tug him onward again.
"But I wouldn't do it with you," he protested.
"Let's find out." She embraced him again, trying to kiss him while she wriggled her remarkably plush body against him.
Such was the evocative power of that body, he found himself tempted. He didn't know exactly how such celebration occurred but was extremely curious.
Sesame hissed again, distracting him. Beware the bower, she said.
"But that's where we can do it most comfortably," the demoness protested. "Come on, it's right here. If you don't like it, you can go back to your camp."
That seemed fair. He started to walk forward.
Sesame flung herself at him, pushing him back. Do not go there!
"But she says she'll let me go if I don't like it."
It is beside a thyme plant.
"A thyme plant?"
It changed time in its vicinity, she explained. A year might seem like an hour.
Suddenly it clicked into place. "If I go there, I'll never deliver the last letter!"
"Oh, fudge," Metria swore and dissipated into a very cross cloud of smoke.
Umlaut realized that he had had a really close call. "Thank you, Sesame," he said, hugging her.
It is what a friend is for, she said, wriggling.
Then they made their way back to the camp. Sesame led, being able to see better in the darkness than he could.
They retired to the nest and settled again for sleep. But then he heard something else. It was a faint call. "Umlaut!"
"Go away, Metria," he said. "I'm on to you."
"Metria! Has she been annoying you again?"
"You know you have. Trying to lead me into that thyme plant. Go away."
"Umlaut, this is Surprise! How can I convince you?"
He began to doubt. "Tell me exactly how we met." Because that had been in Euphoria, with no magic, so Metria couldn't have been there or seen it.
"You were walking along the path, eyes downcast. I was standing there, but you didn't see me. You were looking for someone small. I said, 'Hello, I'm up here,' and then you saw me and were embarrassed, so I kissed you."
But then he remembered that he had challenged her that way before and gotten the same answer. That time she had been genuine, but Metria might have overheard that and used it this time. He needed another way.
"Okay, Surprise. You're you. Let's summon the stork together."
"Umlaut!" she cried. "We can't do that!"
He was satisfied. "It is you. I knew the real you wouldn't do it."
"Actually, that's not quite it."
"What?"
"I couldn't do that now. But if I could, I'd be tempted."
"You mean if you were of age?"
"I mean if I were in a real nymphly body."
"But I was only trying to be sure you weren't Demoness Metria. She'd have agreed instantly."
"I know. And I don't want her to fool you. But you need a better test."
Umlaut was uneasy. "How did you get here this time? I thought you had run out of options."
"Not quite. I'm here in ectoplasm."
"In what?"
"It's a magical substance a person can send out, thicker than a soul, that can float and shape itself into different things. It looks weird, so it's better in the dark. I'm using it to talk to you, but I'd rather you didn't see me."
"But if you're really you—"
"I'm really me, but at the moment I would look like hanging intestines. So I don't want you to see me or touch me, just talk with me. I love you."
"And I love you," he said. "But—"
"Are you sure I shouldn't take some aging elixir? So we can marry now?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I think it's better to wait. If we can manage it."
"I suppose so," she agreed reluctantly. "But I'll be very disappointed if something prevents it, after all that waiting."
"Yes. But we can stay in touch, if we find a way."
"I really am about out of ways to get to you."
"How about a magic mirror? So we could talk to each other?"
"That would take two mirrors, and ordinary folk like us can't get even one."
He sighed. "I guess it was one of my usual stupid ideas. Maybe your folks will let me visit you in Euphoria."
"I like your stupid ideas; they're always nice. Now I have to go, before my ectoplasm dissipates. Lie still and I'll kiss you slightly. Don't move."
He lay still and felt a faint, light, soft touch on his lips. She had touched him with her ectoplasm. Then she was gone; he could feel her absence.
He just had to find a way to be with her more often and longer. But he couldn't think of it.
In the morning they resumed travel. Their journey was uneventful, and that made Umlaut uneasy. This was the last letter delivery, and Demoness Metria would be determined to stop it. What would she try next? Would she manifest as a horrendous monster, or try to plant a detour sign to lead them astray, or make another attempt to seduce him away from his mission? He was sure there would be something, and he wanted to see it, identify it, and nullify it, rather than be uncertain about it. But there was nothing.
Sammy showed them to Castle Maidragon. It was hidde
n in deep jungle, with the path to it barely showing; obviously few folk visited it. Umlaut seemed not to be the only person who hadn't heard of it. It was thoroughly obscure, which of course made it an excellent place for an errant magic mirror, or aspect of one, to hide.
In the afternoon they reached it. The castle was beautiful, with towers and turrets galore, and multiple levels with stairways and walls. It would be possible to get lost in such a castle. In fact it looked like fun. There was a faint aroma of chocolate in its vicinity.
Then they saw the dragon. It was racing around the castle on a well-worn track. There was no moat, but that hardly seemed to be necessary, considering the dragon. It had bright green scales tinged purple at the tips and folded wings. So it seemed to be a flying dragon that preferred to run on land to guard the castle, somewhat the way a moat monster confined itself to the limited water of a moat.
Para halted, and Sesame slithered forward to meet the dragon, who paused for the encounter. They sniffed noses and wriggled.
Then Sesame returned to explain: The dragon was Becka, daughter of Draco Dragon and a nymph. The castle belonged to the three little princesses, and Becka was caretaking it for them. She normally did not let strangers into the castle, but she knew Sammy Cat so would admit them on his authority.
Para approached the dragon, and it changed into a girl of his own age. She was cute, with blonde hair and brown eyes, and her dress was of green scales with purple tinges. "Why, hello," she said, spying Umlaut.
He got out of the boat. "I, uh, am Umlaut. I have to deliver a letter to Rorrim."
"No one by that name lives here," Becka said.
"He's a, uh, magic mirror, or an aspect of one. We think he came here to avoid receiving this letter."
"Why would anyone want to avoid a letter?"
"It's not a nice letter. Someone is looking for him and will find him when the letter is delivered. He doesn't want to be found."
"Then why deliver it?"
"Because that's my job. Uh, the Good Magician told me to deliver all the letters and I would find out how to save Xanth from the Red Spot, and this is the last one."
Becka blinked. "I'm not sure I understand all of that. But maybe I don't need to. It does sound important. Come in; the magic mirror's on the wall of the office chamber."
"Uh, thank you." They followed her inside the castle.
Becka turned to Umlaut. "I like you. Are you taken?"
"Uh, yes," he said, disconcerted. There was that odd appeal of his again. Klutzy as he was, girls still liked him.
"Too bad. Who is the lucky girl?"
"Surprise Golem."
"Her? I didn't know she was old enough."
"Uh, she's not, uh, yet. But we'll wait. I love her."
"Para, let me show you where our pool is," Becka said to the boat. "Your feet must be tired." She glanced at the others. "I'll be back in a moment to show you to the communications room."
She was embarrassed, Claire indicated. So she had to get away from Umlaut to compose herself.
They waited in the main receiving chamber. This castle seemed to be very well appointed, considering that it was hidden in the middle of nowhere. The cats found a couch to lie down on, concluding that Umlaut would rather let Becka show him to the mirror. Actually if it wasn't for Surprise, he would have been quite interested. But of course she was a dragon girl, which complicated things. He wasn't sure he would want to keep company with a girl who could change forms and chomp him at any time. But of course that could be one of Surprise's talents too; it didn't matter that she could not repeat, once would be more than enough. So he took a chair and waited.
Sesame had serpentine curiosity, so she slithered around the room, then explored the adjacent chamber. In almost a moment she hissed: Come here.
Umlaut went to her. There on the wall was the mirror. He had had no idea it was so close; it had sounded as if it was more complicated to find.
"Hello, Rorrim," he said, bringing out the letter.
HELLO UMLAUT the mirror printed, much in the manner of Com Pewter.
"I think you can't flee anymore, so now I'll deliver the letter to you. Sorry about that."
YOU HAVE CAUGHT ME FOUL AND CUBED. GIVE ME THE MISSILE.
"The what?"
NOTE, MESSAGE, STATEMENT, COMMUNICATION, EPISTLE—
"Missive?"
WHATEVER, the mirror printed crossly.
"Hello, Metria. I wondered when you would show up again."
CURSES! FOILED AGAIN. The mirror dissolved into smoke.
"It almost worked this time. If I had given you the letter, I guess you would have taken it away, never to be seen again, and so the final delivery would not have been made."
The smoke formed into the shapely demoness. "Something like that," she agreed. "And I would have saved my little boy."
That made him feel guilty. She had been little but trouble for him, but he understood her devotion to her son. And really, Demon Ted was not all that bad. "I've got to try to save Xanth," he said somewhat lamely.
"You're a decent guy. That's your problem."
Becka appeared in the doorway. "Oh, there you are, Umlaut. And D. Metria, what are you doing here?"
"It's a complicated story," Metria said, fading sadly out.
Becka led them through devious winding passages to the real mirror. "I hardly ever use this," she said. "Mainly when Princess Ivy buzzes me to let me know the three little princesses are coming. It's their castle, and they like to play here. It's amazing what they can do with their magic."
"They made this in play?"
"They did make this castle, but when they were older."
That didn't make much sense to Umlaut, but he didn't want to admit that he had missed something, so he didn't. "That's nice."
"First they made it in chocolate. Then they made it in stone, larger."
This hardly made more sense. "I smelled the chocolate."
"And here's the mirror." She indicated it on the wall.
Umlaut, Sesame, and the two cats drew up before the mirror. "Hello, Rorrim," Umlaut said.
The glass flickered, but no print appeared.
Claire stepped forward. This was the real mirror, she indicated. She understood his situation. Rorrim wanted to bargain with him.
"I just want to deliver the letter and be done with it."
Rorrim says that he is prepared to offer you his services, if you do not deliver the letter to him.
"Why should I want his services?"
"This is an interesting dialogue," Becka said.
Rorrim says he can show you your future of one year hence. That is what he is tuned to. Only his former master, Glassco, can tune him to any other range of time. But a year is good enough to enable you to have the best possible life.
"I don't understand. What's going to happen is going to happen. What good would it be to see a year ahead?"
The future is not fixed, it is mutable. What you do now can change it significantly. Rorrim can show you the result of your present actions, so that you can select the very best future for yourself. Because it continues to be mutable, he can continue to guide you in this manner, so that you will never need to make a bad mistake.
Umlaut had not anticipated such a dialogue, but it was becoming interesting, as Becka said. He made mistakes all the time and felt stupid about it. It would be nice to be able to avoid that. Still, he had a job to do. "No thanks."
He wants to show you a sample, Claire continued.
Umlaut shrugged. He did want to be fair. "All right."
You can do one of two things right now. You can give him the letter, and he will soon be captured and reduced to servile status. Or you can decline to give him the letter, and he will enable you to have your best futures. Here is your scene a year hence, if you accept his offer.
A scene appeared in the mirror. It showed Umlaut walking with Surprise. They were holding hands, and a little cloud of floating hearts surrounded them.
"I like that," Um
laut admitted.
Here is your scene if you decline his offer.
The image shrank to fill one third of the mirror. The rest of it was blank.
"I don't understand," Umlaut said, disturbed.
Neither does Rorrim, exactly, Claire indicated. Usually his images are clear. It seems that if you decline, you will soon face another choice, and that leads to three futures, two of which are blank. It may be that you will cease to exist.
That gave Umlaut a pang. He had faced that specter before. "I will likely be killed?"
That is not clear. If you die, your grave should show, and it doesn't. Maybe you are transported far away, beyond Xanth, where you cannot be tracked. It is odd; Rorrim has not seen this kind of ambiguity before. As far as he can tell, you will make some kind of decision that will lead to one of the two blanks, but someone else will try to act to give you the third. It will not be under your control. He needs to be closer to the "now" to tune properly to "then"—a year thereafter. But all that risk can be avoided if you accept his deal now.
Umlaut thought about being certain to have Surprise with him a year down the path. He certainly wanted that! But what, then, of Xanth? The other choice must be the one that showed how to save Xanth. Maybe it was only a third of a chance, but still, Xanth needed to be saved. How could not delivering the letter save Xanth? So he suspected that Rorrim was faking that.
"What about the others?" he demanded. "Sesame, Para, Sammy, Claire? Where are they a year from now?"
The mirror clouded, then showed another split screen. In half was swirling chaos; in the other half were two views of Sesame. In one she was frolicking in a moat with Soufflé; in the other she was still confined to the Castle Zombie dungeon.
This is beyond my fathoming, Claire indicated. Apparently your present decision can throw Sesame into chaos or into another choice between good and bad. She cannot affect this herself; it depends on you.
This was confusing, and not comfortable. "Try Sammy."
Again the split screen, with chaos on one side, two views of Sammy on the other. In one he was twining tails with Claire; in the other, he was alone, looking bored and unhappy.
This too is outside my range, Claire indicated. I think he meets me in only one future. That is, he has met me in one and never met me in the other. Which is odd, since he has already met me. How can the future change the past?