Demons Don't Dream

  The water slowly sank, so that it was waist deep, then knee deep. The tunnel widened, and more cross-tunnels appeared, all similarly flooded. There was a sound of falling water, suggesting that there was indeed a drain somewhere. The tunnel would be dry again in due course. They needed to get out of it before that happened, because it was only the water that kept the goblins out

  Nada led them to another spiral, this one going up. The water was left behind. That was a relief for Bubbles, who definitely preferred land to water. The two merfolk had to change to legs and don clothing from Kim's pack, while the others turned their backs. Finally they climbed out through a hole.

  They were on the south side of me Gap Chasm. And there on the beach was a small wooden boat. "Merci could have brought that across to us, if we had only known it was there," Kim said, chagrined.

  "Why, so I could have," Merci agreed, surprised. "I have known about that boat for ages."

  Kim almost inquired why Merci hadn't told her about the boat, but she knew the answer: she hadn't asked. This was the game, where the Player had to figure things out. Kim had inquired about a passage, and Merci had answered. Kim had not asked about a boat. A raft, yes, but not a boat. She had missed the obvious.

  "Well, Nada and Bubbles and I have to be on our way," Kim said. "I guess you'll want to stay here, Cyrus, with Merci. When you want to get together with her, all you have to do is find a place where a river meets the sea and the water mixes, or maybe there's a freshwater spring under the sea where there can be a similar effect I'm sure you'll figure it out"

  "I am sure we will," Cyrus agreed. "I thank you, Kim Mundane, for bringing me here. You have indeed solved my problem."

  "And mine," Merci agreed. She turned to Cyrus. "I know where there is a freshwater spring by the shore. I would love to show you more tail."

  "I am eager to see it" he said. They kissed again, then waved farewell and walked eagerly down along the beach, arms around waists.

  "So the adventure resumes," Kim said, with mixed feelings. She was glad for the merfolk, but also envious of their happiness. She knew that she faced a horrendous trek though the jungle, where she might encounter anything at all. It was the nature of the game.

  ***

  Dug blinked in the bright light as they emerged from the vole hole. Sure enough, there was solid jungle all around.

  He turned to Jenny. "Now this is the game," he said. "And I understand we're somewhere near the lair of Com-Pewter, the evil machine. And that I have to settle with him before I can get much farther. So do you know of a fairly direct, safe path there? I want to get this over with."

  Sammy jumped down and scampered along a faint path that seemed to appear only after the cat found it. "Wait for me!" Jenny cried, chasing after him.

  "There's a path," Sherlock agreed. "But are you ready for the machine? I understand those things can really mess up folk who don't know how to handle them."

  "For sure! Maybe I need to think about this a little more."

  "Sammy, stop!" Jenny cried. "He's changed his mind!"

  The cat stopped, losing interest in the path. The others caught up to him. The path where the cat had been was clear, but ahead there seemed to be nothing but brambles, briers, and branches.

  "Maybe a slightly indirect route," Dug said, smiling. “Maybe passing a place where there is something I need."

  Sammy resumed motion. This time his pace was slower, so that they could keep up, and it curved more. But the oddity of the path remained: there didn't seem to be any until the cat found it.

  They came to a large field filled with weird plants. "There's something here you need?" Sherlock inquired with a lifted eyebrow.

  "There's sure to be," Dug said. "So I'll just start looking for it"

  "If you tell Sammy exactly what it is, he'll find it for you," Jenny said.

  “I don't know exactly what it is but I hope to know it when I see it," Dug said. "Why don't the two of you get some rest while I look? This may take a while."

  Both Jenny and Sherlock looked perplexed, but Sammy didn't In fact, Sammy elected to join him in the search.

  Dug stepped into the field. He saw that the assorted plants were in rows, and each had a little sign identifying it That ought to help!

  The first plant he looked at had a number of light cones, each looking suitable for ice cream. Or, as it was in Xanth, eye scream. Sure enough, it was labeled CONEFLOWER. But that wasn't what he needed.

  As he squatted to look at the next he developed an itch in an awkward place. He straightened up and faced away from the others, so as to be able to scratch it inconspicuously, but the itch had gone. So he squatted again—and the itch returned. The closer he leaned toward the plant, the worse it got, making him fidget something awful. Then he saw the sign, and understood: COCKLEBUR.

  As he moved toward the next, which seemed to be a clump of grass, something chafed in his trouser leg. He looked down and saw a number of long arrow-shaped thorns in it. He pulled these out, carefully, and resumed motion—only to have more strike him. He looked at the sign. No wonder! This was arrowgrass.

  Then his clothing seemed to get tight around the joints. Suspecting the next plant, he squinted to see its sign from a distance. Sure enough, it said BINDWEED. Next to it was a KNOTWEED, which he avoided.

  Now he came to a nicer section, passing BUTTER-WEED, MILKWEED, and CANDYTUFT. Those would do with a meal, if there weren't enough from other sources.

  Then he encountered a more awkward section, spying LOVEGRASS, VIRGIN'S BOWER, BRIDAL WREATH, and MATRIMONY VINE. Near those was a TWIN-FLOWER. Obviously this was what a woman needed if she wanted to reproduce more rapidly. Just send such a flower to the stork depot, to let the stork know how many to deliver.

  The next section was animalistic. There was a CATTAIL, KITTENTAIL, PUSSYTOES, DRAGONHEAD, HOUND'S TONGUE, and SQUIRRELTAIL. Then full creatures: BEE PLANT, BUTTERFLY WEED, CHICK-WEED, DUCKWEED, GOAT GRASS, MONKEY FLOWER, and OYSTER PLANT. But none of them were what he needed.

  Then there were assorted sewing plants: PINCUSHION, NEEDLE AND THREAD, THIMBLE BERRY, LEATHER FLOWER, and HEMLOCK. That last was evidently what women wearing long skirts used to prevent the hems from unraveling so that they stepped on them. There was a warning: it shouldn't be taken internally, lest it lock up the innards.

  The next section had an emaciated SKELETON WEED, a bright SHOOTING STAR, a WALLFLOWER, and a PAINTBRUSH slopping a new color on it.

  Then came some seed plants: STICKSEED, TICK-SEED, and BUGSEED. Sammy was inspecting the last closely. "Yes," Dug murmured, harvesting some of its seeds. "That may be what I want" He put the seeds in his pocket and went on, because he did not want to draw attention to the nature of exactly what he wanted.

  Then he came to an ugly section: CHEATGRASS, POVERTY WEED, SNEEZEWEED, TUMBLEGRASS, and CHOKE CHERRY. He managed to sneak past those without suffering too many afflictions.

  But what followed was worse: a patch of STINK-WEED. He had had enough trouble with the stink horn to know the danger of this, so he intelligently moved right on to the SMARTWEED and then wisely to SAGEBRUSH.

  The last plant in the row was labeled CRYPTO-GRAMMA. This was very puzzling; he just couldn't figure it out, so he left it alone. It was also called ROCK BRAKE, but he couldn't tell whether it stopped big rolling stones or broke them up into pebbles.

  He walked back along the second row. There were endless wonders there, but he paid them less attention, because he already had what he had come for. Then he saw a group of MONIAS: old, middle-aged, young, and new. This might be even better! So he took a New Monia flower and set it in a buttonhole.

  He returned to the others. "Did you find what you wanted?" Sherlock inquired.

  Dug coughed. "I think so."

  "You okay, man? Sounds as if you have some congestion."

  "I'll be all right," Dug said, trying not to hack. He hadn't realized that the flower would take effect so quickly. But of course things could be instant, in this magic land. He wo
uld just have to suffer through.

  Sherlock and Jenny had fixed a good meal, but Dug did not have much appetite. He felt feverish and weak, and his breathing was getting difficult. But he pretended to be normal. He had a reason.

  They finished eating and moved on, following the leisurely paths Sammy found. Dug had to struggle to keep moving. "Listen, there's something wrong," Sherlock said. "Ever since you looked through that garden patch, you've been stumbling as if you're sick. What happened in there?”

  "Nothing I can tell you," Dug said hoarsely. "Just let me be."

  Sherlock exchanged one long glance and two short ones with Jenny, and let it drop. The long glance bounced on the ground and shattered when it was dropped, but the short ones survived intact

  But when Dug staggered, stumbled, and fell, Jenny took action. "You're my responsibility," she said. "Because I'm your Companion. I will get in trouble for not guiding you well if you lose because you are too ill to continue. We must find a healing spring. That will make you well."

  Dug was now too sick to protest effectively. He knew that what she said was true. But he also knew that he had to persevere, or he would lose again to Pewter. He could not tell them why, lest the evil machine learn of his words through some spy, and be prepared to foil his ploy.

  Sherlock made a travois from wood and vine, softening it with pillows. He lifted Dug onto it, and hauled him along that way. Jenny had Sammy find the nearest spring. She wasn't able to clarify its particular type: it seemed that to the cat, one spring was much like another. She was able only to establish that it not be a regular ordinary water source. It had to be a magic spring.

  As it turned out, there was one not too far away. They reached it, but were cautious. Dug heard them discussing it, though he was now too tired to join the dialogue.

  "We have to be sure it's a healing spring," Jenny said. "Because there are different kinds, such as love springs and hate springs. It will be worse than nothing if we dose him with the wrong kind of elixir."

  "But how can we tell, without trying it?" Sherlock asked. "We don't want to taste a love spring or a hate spring either."

  "We certainly don't!" she agreed. "No offense to you. Because a love spring isn't just romantic; it leads immediately to a violent summoning of the stork. That would be a violation of the Adult Conspiracy, because I'm still a child."

  "We don't want to violate any conspiracy," Sherlock agreed. "But inaction isn't any good either; we have to test me water somehow. Could we just sniff a little, so all we get is a mere suggestion?"

  "Maybe that will be all right," she agreed doubtfully. "Let me try it first. Then if I start getting romantic, or whatever, you run away."

  "Those springs must be potent," Sherlock remarked.

  "Exactly."

  So Jenny got down and sniffed the spring. "Oh, I feel young!" she exclaimed.

  "Well, you are young. What kind of spring is it?"

  "Not a love spring," she decided. "I don't love you or hate you. But I do feel changed."

  "So maybe you've been healed of whatever was bothering you," he said reasonably. "This must be the one we want."

  "Maybe. I'm not quite sure. There's something odd about it. You better sniff it too, and see what you think."

  Sherlock got down and sniffed. "Wow! I feel two years younger!"

  "You look a bit younger too," she agreed. "Is it healing you?"

  "No. I have a sore toe, and it's still sore."

  "Maybe you should dip your toe, and see if it heals."

  "Good idea!" Sherlock removed his shoe and dipped his sore toe. The skin turned fresh but did not actually heal.

  Then they paused while an insect flew down to taste the water. But the insect turned into a grub.

  "It must be a transforming spring," Jenny said. "It changed into another kind of bug."

  "No, it reverted to its earlier form," Sherlock said. "Insects hatch from grubs. It's their youthful stage—" He broke off, realization coming.

  "A youth spring!" Jenny cried. "This must be the Fountain of Youth! Nobody knows where it is, and we stumbled on it by accident!"

  "Sammy didn't stumble on it," he reminded her. "He was looking for a magic spring."

  "That's right. And what a spring he found! But it isn't the one we want. Dug's only a year older than I am, really; he doesn't want to be any younger."

  "You're fifteen?" Sherlock asked. "I thought you were a child."

  "I am a child, by game definition. But outside the game I'm sneaking up on adult status, and actually I know the secret of the Conspiracy. Maybe I look younger to you, because I'm an elf; I'm smaller than a human girl my age would be."

  “That must be it," he agreed. "Well, none of us need this elixir, so we'd better move on. It's an irony, though; a lot of people would give their fortunes to drink from this."

  "People are funny," she agreed.

  Dug wanted to tell them to mark the place carefully, so they could find the spring again, because the knowledge would be invaluable. But his breath was so short he couldn't speak.

  They resumed their search, following the cat to another spring. Dug caught a glimpse of it before Sherlock laid the travois flat on the ground. The spring was round, with a quilted surface, as if the waves lacked the energy to ripple properly. This time when Jenny sniffed, she turned over and lay down on the water. "It must be an ether spring, putting you to sleep!" Sherlock said, horrified.

  "No it isn't," she replied. "It's a bed spring. Oh, I could just lie here forever and sleep." Indeed, she was floating on the soft water. It was one big water bed.

  "Don't do that!" He bent down and picked her up. He carried her away from the spring, until she recovered enough to stay away.

  "I guess you're right," Jenny said sadly. "This is not the time to rest. But it sure was the most comfortable bed I ever felt."

  So they moved on again. Dug faded out, feeling delirious, so didn't know how long it took to reach it. But it was definitely later in the day.

  Jenny sniffed it. Faint stars appeared in her eyes. "Oh, guest stars," she said, smiling. "I love them." Then she turned to look at Sherlock. "In fact, I love—"

  "Get away from there!" Sherlock cried. "That's a love spring!"

  "Much better than a hate spring," she replied dreamily.

  "Get away!" he repeated firmly.

  "Anything you say, you handsome creature." She moved languorously away. "Wouldn't you like to carry me again?"

  "Not this time! You just breathe the air away from the spring for a while until it wears off."

  Reluctantly the elf girt did so. Dug had never had reason to question the black man's decency, but if he had, this scene would have resolved it. He was getting just enough of a whiff of the spring to understand that it would be extraordinarily easy to take advantage of a situation.

  So they set off for yet another spring, as the day waned. Dug hoped the next one wasn't a hate spring, because then Jenny and Sherlock might come to hate him, and leave him to expire alone.

  As the sun set, they came to it. Jenny sniffed. "I think this is it!" she said, excited.

  "You're not trying to trick me into tasting a love spring?" Sherlock asked.

  "Dip your sore toe."

  He did. "Hey—it healed!"

  They brought some of the water to Dug. With the first drop on his lips he began to feel better. He swallowed, and felt better yet. He inhaled the vapor, and his lungs began to clear. This was definitely the healing elixir.

  But his chest did not heal quite all the way. He knew why: he was still wearing the New Monia flower, and it was still sending illness into his lungs. He could have been better long ago, if he had just thrown that flower away. But he refused. He had to wear it just as if it were harmless.

  "I'm better," he announced. "But I'd better take some of this elixir along, just in case of relapse." He dipped a small bottle in the spring, filled it, and corked it. It was amazing how sick he had felt, though he knew this was all pretense; an effect of t
he game couldn't touch him in real life. It certainly had seemed real, though.

  It was now dusk. They foraged for food and camping materials, and set up for the night. There was no regular camping place here; evidently they had wandered from the normal route of the game. But if anything happened, they could heal quickly, because of the spring.

  Dug thought he had been resting while the others worked, but now he discovered how tired he was. He sank into blissful sleep.

  In the morning they resumed their trek, heading for Com-Pewter's lair. At first they had to pick their way through thick jungle. Dug wondered why, since it seemed to thin in a nearby valley. Then he saw a dragon feeding on something, and realized that the easiest route was not necessarily the best. Sammy Cat was leading them the safe way—which was where the dragons weren't foraging. His encounter with the Gap Dragon had been more than sufficient to teach him respect—and that had been merely a steamer, not a firebreather.

  They heard a companion. There ahead was a clearing, and in the clearing was a giant spinning object "What's that thing doing here?” Dug demanded.

  "I think that's the Big Top," Jenny said “It's part of another story. I don't think we had better mess with it"

  Dug was learning to take such warnings seriously. "We leave it alone," he agreed.

  Now they were able to use some of the paths; Sammy Cat seemed to feel these ones were safe. They came to another area of commotion. It seemed to be an enclosed field, with many animals confined. '”The stock market," Jenny explained. "It's full of charging bulls and bears. It's not safe for ordinary folk to enter. People get trampled there all the time, and wiped out"

  Dug nodded. Literal bulls and bears. It figured The Mundane version was scary enough, he understood; he didn't need to mess with this one.

  They also bypassed a big shopping centaur. Dug didn't even ask.

  At last they approached the region of the evil machine. Dug remembered how easy it had been to reach it, before, using the shortcut But now they were in much better control. He would not be blindly stampeded into Pewter's cave.