As she spoke, the Hag pictured that ancient land, and Melody saw it take form. It was as if she was Sea Girl, as the Sea Hag was called then, because she lived by the sea shore and gathered pretty sea shells to trade for the necessities of life. She was a rather scrawny child with a tangle of wild hair and sea-colored eyes.
On the day she was ten years old she went out as usual to seek sea shells, and found several rather nice ones. She brought them home, thinking her stern salty father would be pleased, but instead her mother was there, her eyes rimmed with tears. "Daughter, today your father was toasted and eaten by a dragon," she said. "I can no longer afford to maintain you."
"But where will I go? What will I do?" Sea Girl inquired plaintively.
"I will have to sell you to the Green Horn," Mother said sadly. "That will enable me to survive, and he will take care of you in his fashion."
"The Green Horn!" Sea Girl exclaimed, horrified. "But he's not even human! He's a leprechaun."
"No, he just looks like one," Mother said. "He's quite human in ways that count, unfortunately. He has had his evil eye on you for some time, and now you must go to him and do whatever he wants."
"How will I know what he wants? He always speaks in riddles."
"I'm sure he will make his desire known," Mother said with a shudder.
"How will I find him? He lives hidden in the deepest darkest forest."
"He will send a coach for you."
Then, tearfully, she hugged Sea Girl and sent her off with no more than half an electronic cookie, which had also been sent by the Green Horn. She stood by the trail out of the village and ate the cookie as she was supposed to. It tingled in her mouth as its current animated her.
Soon the coach arrived, orienting on the signal sent by the cookie. Many people did not have magic, but many things did, and the cookie's magic was to identify the person who ate it, and reveal that person's secrets to the one who sent it. Had Sea Girl known that at the time, she would never have eaten it; she would have fed it to a basilisk.
The coach was surprisingly fancy. In fact it was a cherry-ot, formed in the shape of a huge cherry. It rolled smartly up and the burdened beast that pulled it halted. Its red door opened.
Sea Girl hesitated. "This fancy coach can't be for me," she protested. I'll am just an anonymous orphaned waif."
"It's just a stage," the cherry-oteer told her.
Reassured, she boarded, and the coach rolled into the deepest darkest forest. Sea Girl shed a tear as she left her village. She would have shed another if she had realized that she would never see her beloved sea again. Not in this life.
Sea Girl dreaded her upcoming encounter with Green Horn, but this was because she hardly knew him. Had she known him better, she would have been properly appalled.
The ride was not easy, because a rat spied the cherry-ot and decided to eat it. The Rat Race had recently immigrated from Mundania and had taken a liking to racing. Rats would race anything, and do anything to win, and would eat the loser after winning the race. No one else liked a rat race. The cherry-oteer whipped the beast of burden cruelly, making it gallop blindly ahead, outrunning the shorter-legged rats. But the coach bounced so much it almost fell apart. Sea Girl grew nauseous, and wished the ride was over. But had she realized what was at its end, she would have been truly sickened.
In due course the coach stopped at the very deepest, darkest part of the forest. "Debouch; you're done for," the cherry-oteer said kindly. Or had he said "Debauch"? In any event, she might have wished for some other phrasing, had she understood either term.
She got out of the coach, and it rolled hastily away from that place. She stood before a ramshackle shack almost hidden in the gloom. In its poor excuse for a doorway stood Green Horn.
"So you have arrived," he said. "Now do you know what I want of you?"
All Sea Girl knew was that she didn't want to know. So she made a desperate ploy. "Don't you always ask a riddle, and anyone who answers correctly gets to flee your awful presence?"
"That's only half right," he said. "Anyone who answers correctly gets horrendously rewarded with an indescribable life experience."
"So why can't I have a riddle?"
"That's different," he said. “I bought you from your widowed mother. Too bad about that dragon."
"How do you know a dragon widowed her?" Sea Girl demanded bravely, trying to stall for time.
He answered with a riddle, as was his wont. "Who do you think sent the dragon?"
"You sent it?" she asked, beginning to be properly appalled.
"Who else, delicious girl?"
Delicious? She saw past him to the huge boiling pot on his hearth. Now she began to be truly sickened.
She tried again, twice as desperately. "So don't I rate a riddle?"
He frowned. "Very well, as it won't make any difference. No one ever answers correctly anyway. Here is my riddle: Where is my Green Horn?"
"What happens if I answer incorrectly?"
"I will do one of three things. I will curdle your milk so you never enjoy it again, or deform your knee joints so you never walk straight again, or cook you in green beer in my pot. I have already made my decision with respect to you, as it is near supper time."
Sea Girl didn't dare answer incorrectly, so she made a wild guess. "There is your Green Horn," she said, pointing directly at him.
"Curses!" he swore. "You got it."
She was foolishly relieved. "What is my horrendous reward? What is my indescribable life experience?"
"I will marry you."
She had thought that nothing could be worse than the boiling pot. Now she knew better. "I changed my mind," she said. "I take back my answer."
"Too late. I always keep my foul word. There is no help for it but that I marry you forthwith. Of course I will treat you despicably for the rest of your life, and make your worthless existence miserable, but that's only to be expected in marriage. Take off your clothes."
Worse yet. "But I'm only ten years old!"
He glanced at her, perplexed. "What's your point?"
"What about the Adult Conspiracy?"
"It hasn't been invented yet. This is the year minus Twenty-one Ninety, remember."
She realized that there was no escape. And so it was she married young, and hated every minute of it, for Green Horn was a despicably cruel husband who made her work her fingers off on the endless dull chores of the household. Once her fingers were gone, of course, she could no longer do the chores or feed herself, and soon expired in dull misery. It had not been, taken as a whole, a good life.
Even after she died, there was no respite, for her soul did not find any comfortable haven. It wandered across the landscape, unsettled. She saw the living people going about their business, and envied them. They at least had decent lives, of the sort she had not. Their children were developing magic talents--something the adults did not yet realize, but that was obvious to someone hovering invisibly near and observing. Regular people, too, could have magic!
Finally she spied a lovely young woman who seemed to have excellent prospects for marriage and all else. She wore her heart on her sleeve; everyone could see it beating there. Sea Girl couldn't help herself; she just had to try to share in it, even if it was only illusion. She floated to the woman and overlapped her body.
Suddenly her soul took hold, and the body became hers, answering to her directives. She had become the girl!
It took her some time--perhaps as long as five minutes--to realize that this was her magic talent. She could take over another body after she died! She could live her life over again.
But her marriage to the Green Horn had hopelessly spoiled her for conventional existence. She had so much bitterness accumulated that it would take several lifetimes to wear it out. So she decided to do something about it. The first thing she wanted was vengeance.
She left the girl's village and made her way to the Green Horn's ramshackle shack. "Ho, miscreant!" she called at the door. "Get your sorr
y donkey out here."
Green Horn appeared, astonished at the appearance of so lovely a woman. "What is your concern?" he asked, almost politely, for normally attractive women would have nothing to do with him.
"Aren't you the riddler?" she demanded, knowing the answer.
"That I am. Have you come for a riddle?"
"No. I didn't come for a riddle. I came to marry you."
He could hardly believe what he took to be his good fortune. So they were married, and on their wedding night she made him a cake of wild thyme. They had one fabulous party, and he fell utterly in love with her. He was helpless to oppose her will in any way.
That was what she wanted. She had a lifetime of contempt to return, and she returned it in good measure. She made him suffer every day, until finally he could take it no longer, and threw himself in front of a hungry dragon. Sea Girl was a widow.
But she still had too much bitterness left to just let it go to waste. So she went after another man, and treated him similarly. After she drove him to suicide she went to another. But by this time her bitterness had degenerated into corruption, and that was affecting her body, and she was beginning to look like a hag. It was harder to trap her third husband, and impossible for the fourth: She no longer had sufficient appearance.
So she retired to further bitterness, knowing that she had thrown away at least one good man who might have given her a good life, had she given him a chance. She swore not to let that happen again. So when she walked carelessly, and fell in the sea, and drowned, and her soul ranged free again, she made sure not only to seek a good man to torment, but to line up her next body, so that she would always be young and beautiful. The prospect was a child of ten, but she watched the girl become a lovely woman in the course of a few years. Then when her personality started showing, making her body ugly, she arranged to kill herself, and took the one she had watched ripen. She had found her formula for success.
The odd thing was, she never succeeded in using up her store of bitterness and ill will. After a few centuries, she didn't want to. It was just fine being the mean Sea Hag. The opinions of others didn't matter; only her personal satisfaction.
"And so I continue today," she concluded. "Though never before have I encountered so much difficulty hanging onto new bodies. That's why I have to get rid of the Dastard."
The Dastard! The Sea Hag had run afoul of the Dastard?
The Hag was surprised. "You know of the Dastard?"
Melody wasn't sure where this could lead, but she could not conceal her thoughts from the Sea Hag. Yes, she knew of that Dastard; that was why she was here. They had to nullify the Dastard before he did any more harm.
"So we both want to get rid of him," the Hag said, amazed. "Well, I will do it for you. You are a princess, with an excellent body. That is exactly what he seeks, fool that he is. I will go and marry him, and make him miserable as only I can do. I will drive him to suicide in reasonably short order."
But Melody did not want to marry the Dastard. That was absolutely the last thing she ever wanted to do.
"Tough tears, toots. You do not have a choice. This is what I have decided to do. First, we'll have to restore your appearance to natural, so that it's obvious you're a princess. Then we'll go fascinate the Dastard. That shouldn't be hard to do, with your body and my experience."
Melody gave herself up for lost.
Chapter 10
DASTARDLY DEAL
The Dastard was pleased, which was an unusual state for him. Not only had he gotten into some panties, they had turned out to be fairly decent ones, all things considered. Now Xena was on her way elsewhere, and he and Becka were on their way to the next nexus.
This turned out to be a group of vaguely demon-like creatures. They were busily excavating a hole in the ground.
"Who are you?" the Dastard inquired. "In fact, what are you?"
One of them glanced up. "Hello, mortal man. I'm Jeorge, and this is my sister Jeorgia and my junior, Jerry. We're jinns."
"They all begin with J," Becka murmured, impressed.
"That's interesting," the Dastard said, bored. "What are you doing?"
"We're digging out a precious Jeode we located by sheer chance," Jeorge said proudly. As he spoke, it came free.
"It looks like a dull rock," the Dastard said disparagingly.
"Oh, but it isn't," the jinn said. He tapped it, and it fell into two halves. In each half was a lovely three-dimensional picture of a beautiful scene.
"This is a representation of our long-lost home," Jeorgia said raptly. "It exists only within special stones: Jeodes. We have searched for a century to find one, and now by incredible luck we have found it."
"We could search for another century," Jerry said, "and never find another. They're very rare."
"How did you come across it?" Becka asked, obviously intrigued.
"I happened to see the faintest glint from a speck on its surface in a momentary beam of sunlight," Jeorge said. "Had I not by amazing fortune been looking in that direction at that instant, I would have missed it."
"This is the culmination of our eternal ambition," Jeorgia said. "Now we can at last relax and bask in its special beauty and relevance to our lost land."
"But why don't you just go home, if you like it so much?" Becka asked.
A tear welled in Jerry's eye. "We can't," he said. "It was destroyed by a terrible storm."
"That sounds like Fracto," Becka said. "The worst of clouds."
"Yes, it was Cumulo Fracto Nimbus," Jeorgia agreed. "He's really a type of demon. The Demon Queen was so angry at this breach of interdisciplinary etiquette that she enchanted him to take solid form for the next three-point-nine years. But the damage was done, and Fracto has long since finished his sentence and returned to his mean-spirited ways, while we searched endlessly for what little we could salvage of our home." She gazed at the scenes in the half stones. "Now at last we have our desire."
"The Demon Queen can do that?" Becka asked, amazed.
"Oh, yes," Jerry answered. "She could transform King Dor into a dor-mouse if she wanted to."
The Dastard had heard enough. He grabbed Becka's hand and slid into limbo. He went back an hour, to before the jinns spied the stone, and emerged in Xanth.
"As if I need to ask what you are going to do," Becka said sourly.
"You agreed not to interfere," he reminded her.
"I wish I hadn't."
The Dastard used a stick to scrape dirt over the tiny portion of the stone that showed, and packed it down firmly with his foot so that the beam of sun would never catch it. Then he grabbed Becka's reluctant hand again and returned to the present.
There were no jinns. They had passed this spot and never paused.
The Jeode remained hidden, and it would probably never be discovered.
The Dastard walked on, well satisfied. Becka was silent.
They came to a man working on a set of cones. "What are you doing?" Becka asked.
"Don't bother," the Dastard said. "It's not a nexus."
"So at least you won't destroy it," she retorted.
"Oh you wouldn't want to destroy this," the man said, overhearing them. "It's a very special hourglass timer."
"A timer? Don't all hourglasses time hours?"
"This one uses a mixture of quick sand and slow sand. It can be set to time any amount of time, simply by changing the ratio."
"Great!" she exclaimed. But the Dastard dragged her on. There was a nexus ahead. At least it seemed to be; the feeling was different from the usual, but very strong.
There, coming toward them on the path, was the mysterious greenhaired princess he had seen in the vision of the future. She was every bit as wonderful as he had ever dreamed. Her bosom jiggled in her tight low-cut blouse, and her skirt was so short it barely covered her panties, and she was smiling at him.
"That's the princess!" Becka whispered, astonished. "Complete with her little crown."
The princess walked boldly up to them. "Hel
lo," she said cheerily. "I'm Princess Melody. I am visiting Xanth for four days. You look like an interesting man."
The Dastard was speechless for a moment. This was partly because the last thing he had expected was for her to approach him directly, and partly because from up this close he could see down into her flexing bosom.
Becka took up the slack. "Hello, Princess. I'm Becka, and this is the--he calls himself Dashing."
"He certainly looks dashing to me," Melody said. "I think I'll kiss him." She stepped up close and planted her lovely warm mouth on his.
The Dastard was not only speechless, he was senseless. He collapsed in a heap. Only a glimmer of consciousness remained, just enough to enable him to hear their dialogue and feel their touches.
"Oh, horrors, he must have fainted," the princess cried, sweetly dismayed. She touched him with her soft hands, setting his limp body straight.
"I think he's just surprised," Becka said. "Still, I never saw him as the fainting type."
"Maybe the lip bomb helped," the princess said somewhat smugly.
"Lip balm?"
"Never mind. Why are you with him?"
"The Good Magician assigned me to help him. So I'm trying to do that, though I can't say I like it. How is it that you came here?"
"That's my business, my pet. Do you think he likes me?"
"I'm sure he does," the girl said. "You see, we saw a vision of you in his future. He--I think he started to fall in love with you then. But we didn't know who you were."
"I told you: I'm Princess Melody."
"But you can't be! She's only four years old."