Knot Gneiss
They flourished there, advancing to the top of their classes. Their prospects for finding work remained meager, because of their gender, but at least they had hope.
They met each other during Spring Break of their senior year at a popular resort in Florida, which was somewhat like Xanth, only without much magic. They compared notes, discovering a striking similarity of experience. It wasn’t that they didn’t like men, it was that they wanted men to like them for their brains instead of their torsos, and no man even inquired—other than some professors, who actually turned out to be interested in the same thing, as a side dish. And of course the professors were married.
They decided to form a sisterhood, where they would pool their expertise and form their own company upon graduation, to create truly extraordinary inventions. They would enlist a few men to serve as figureheads for the company, so it would be accepted by other companies. There would be no problem enlisting the men; all they had to do was grant some limited access to their torsos, and the men would cooperate completely. If the men got inconvenient ideas, a little more access would freak them out, bringing them back under control. They were converting the disadvantage of male tunnel vision to an advantage.
Alas, fate intervened. The airplane they took to return to college encountered severe wind shear from a mundane cousin of Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, and exploded in a spectacular fireball when it smashed into the runway.
At the last possible second, a minor Demoness from Xanth assumed the form of a female leprechaun, stopped time on board the airplane, and talked to the terrified Maidens.
The Demoness, Nan O’Tek, was more than capable of building things from atoms by mere thought. But she had no creativity whatsoever, so could not usefully participate in the games that Demons played against one another for power and status. Nan saw the impending crash of these three talented and creative girls to be a meaningless waste, and offered them a deal: an oath of lifetime loyalty to her, in exchange for a rescue and an excellent life to come. The girls made the oath and were spirited off the plane the instant before impact. No one in Mundania knew.
Nan helped the girls set up shop in the Gap Wilderness, unknown to others. The four of them pooled their knowledge and power to selectively breed the small indus-trees they collected across the Gap. They developed a giant and robust breed of trees called Heavy Industrees, which were capable of producing massive amounts of refined materials such as steel or plastic, in a completely nonpolluting manner.
The girls designed their first atomic assembler, which they named after their patron, called a Nan O’Assembler. An array of assemblers took the refined materials from the heavy industrees to create all manner of useful nonmagical products and toys to be marketed across Xanth and Mundania.
Thus was devised the first, if secret, Xanth company, the Mai-Den Corporation Industrial Park. It was chartered by King Ebnez, and proved to be a source of untold wealth for the Maidens, and a source of ideas for Nan O’Tek. It later became the primary armorer for the King of Xanth and his Army. Others in Xanth never knew or questioned the source.
Given time and virtually unlimited resources to explore the limits of science in the magic realm of Xanth, the Maiden Japan designed and created the ornery self-willed contraption known as Com Pewter.
“Com Pewter!” Ida exclaimed. “He is notorious!”
“Imperfect, I know,” the Maiden Japan said modestly. “It was a learning process. I could do better today, but my interests are elsewhere.”
Wenda was amazed. These largely unknown Maidens had become virtual Sorceresses.
“Taiwan, didn’t you marry the Good Magician at some point?” Ida asked.
“Why, yes. It seemed like a good career move at the time, especially considering our work for prior kings,” Taiwan agreed. “But then he abdicated the throne, ruining the connection, and I had to abdicate the marriage. Then later I was visiting my sisters in Hell, when Humfrey rescued us all. So I had to accept remarriage, fortunately on a part-time basis. It really isn’t bad. We do a good deal of work for Humfrey now too. He’s one man who can keep a secret.”
“So you work for the king and the Good Magician,” Ida said. “That must keep you busy.”
“Not really. We tackle other projects that interest us. For example a knowledgeable engineer in Mundania wanted to design a ship of space that would travel to Alpha Centuri. He had made a deal with the centaurs, but had a problem delivering because they wanted it to travel faster than light. Science forbids that, for some reason, so he had to go to magic. That was where we came in.”
“A ship—to another star—faster than light?” Jumper asked, intrigued. “How could that be done?”
“It requires use of the Magic Law of Similarity,” Taiwan said. “Suppose you have a sheet of space-time fabric, actually called the ether, upon which you impose a map of the universe. Since the centaur’s ship is part of the universe, it will be shown on that fabric. Then—”
But Wenda was unable to follow it any further. It was vastly too technical for her. And, she suspected, for the others. So she just smiled and nodded as if she understood, and let it go at that.
Time passed. At one point they gathered around the Knot, the three Maidens approaching it as closely as they could, intrigued by the fear and disgust it inspired. “There is a lot of power there,” the Maiden Mexico said.
“We could take it off your hands,” the Maiden Japan said. “We would like to study it at length.”
“No,” Wenda said firmly. “It must go to the Good Magician’s Castle. Only then will our mission bee done.”
The Maiden Taiwan nodded. “I will see it there, in due course. That will do.”
Then Eris was there, bringing the nuptial visitors, so Wenda knew it was evening.
“Those Maidens are intriguing,” Eris remarked. “I understand their sister, the Maiden China, survived in Mundania, and now is showing her power there.”
“Things are more complicated than I ever suspected,” Wenda said.
“Well, yes, of course. Few folk even suspect the real sources of power or information, in Xanth or Mundania. That is perhaps just as well.”
“Just as well,” Wenda agreed, realizing that they were talking while their males were busy with their bodies. Wenda was really coming to appreciate her incidental discussions with the Demoness.
“Thank you,” Eris said, leaving Jumper asleep. Then she collected the other sleeping males and disappeared. “You have, I think, just one more day before your mission is complete.”
What a relief that would be! “Thank yew,” Wenda said as the Demoness faded.
15
FULFILLMENT
In the morning they were on their way, the Knot freshly clothed in the last of the reverse-wood chips. The Maidens had promised that there would be no more delays; the way to the Good Magician’s Castle was clear. They were in a position to know, as they used it often.
Wenda had to admit that the Maidens had not been bad. Their history was interesting, teaching Wenda much about Xanth that she had neither known nor suspected. They had been good hosts, and Wenda and the party were refreshed. Even the Knot had benefited, as a Maiden had managed to approach close enough to apply some grease to the wagon’s axles, and it was rolling more smoothly.
About the only unpleased member of their party was the Knot itself. It knew that delivery was incipient, and it hated that. Wenda had no sympathy.
“We are at last nearing the conclusion of our mission,” Hilarion said as he helped Ida pull the wagon. They were taking turns, as the chore became tiring after a while. Wenda was walking beside the Knot, being the one best able to tolerate its malevolence.
“We are,” Ida agreed.
“I wanted to say that I almost hope that Princess Dawn, however beautiful and talented she may be, is not my betrothee.”
“But Hilarion, I know her,” Ida protested. “She is a fine young woman, and an outstanding Sorceress. You could hardly find a better match.”
&n
bsp; “There is the key: she is young.”
“She and her sister have been known to be mischievous, even naughty on occasion,” Ida said. “But in a manner you would surely appreciate. I understand they teased Jumper, when he was in manform, something awful, flashing their panties when he was bare.”
“They did,” Wenda agreed. She had been there. Those panties had just about set fire to the landscape.
“But that relates to the impetuosity of youth,” Ida continued. “As they age, their mature potentials will emerge. Eve is already showing hers. And Dawn—she was the one who realized how to save the Demoness Eris by making Jumper the Prince of Spiders. Eris had to marry a prince, you see. Dawn would make any man a very fine wife.”
“I have no doubt of it,” Hilarion said. “But the problem is with me. In the course of this mission I have come to know you, Princess Ida. I realize that you, too, are a full Sorceress, with powers unimaginable to ordinary folk. But setting that aside, and with no affront intended to the women of this party, you are still more woman than any I have known. You have shown me what a woman can be, and that is like a Sorceress compared to the incidental magic of an ordinary girl. When I finally discover my betrothee, I fear I will see a girl, when what I now desire is a woman. You may have spoiled me for her.”
“Oh, Hilarion, I’m sorry! I never thought … I never meant to—”
“Of course you are innocent of any evil intent,” he said quickly. “That is part of your mature nature. It is your very presence, your essential nature, that has educated me and made me see beyond the mere appearance of a girl. It is definitely not your fault. It merely explains my attitude.”
“I am not sure I understand.” But Wenda could see that Ida was at least on the verge of understanding. She just did not want to acknowledge it.
“If Dawn is not the one, I will then have a pretext to continue looking. To travel with you, Princess Ida, as we have agreed. To keep further company with you.”
“This is foolish,” Ida said. “You must find your betrothee.”
“Yes. But I try to be honest with all people, myself included. I would be satisfied to look for some time yet, in your company.”
The tears flowed down Ida’s face. “So would I,” she whispered.
“I am glad to hear it.”
“You are young, yet you exemplify princely qualities of courage, commitment, and nobility that I fear have similarly spoiled me for my own man, once I find him. I doubt he will be better in such respects than you, and I will be aware of the lack.”
“It is ironic,” he said. “We have nothing but the greatest respect for each other, and this is perhaps our tragedy. To mess up each other’s lives by sowing dissatisfaction.”
“Unfortunately true,” Ida agreed.
Their dialogue lapsed, leaving Wenda to ponder. What each had said was true: they were in key respects ideal for each other. It was too bad they were of different generations, destined for other relationships. Each needed to find a companion of his or her own age.
By noon they crested a hill, and there before them, in the next valley, was the Good Magician’s Castle. It was all downhill from here.
They paused for lunch, relaxing, basking in the near completion of the arduous chore. The Knot radiated so violently that already the morning’s shield of fresh reverse wood was curling.
“Something the Maiden Taiwan said,” Hilarion remarked as he sat beside Wenda. “Could I have been searching for ten years?”
“Yew did run afoul of that forget whorl,” Wenda reminded him.
“I did. I thought it was merely a glancing blow, as it were. But now I am almost beginning to remember.”
Ida came up on his other side. “You remember? That suggests that you are older than you seem.”
“I may be,” he agreed. “I do remember that when I set out to find my betrothee, I invoked a spell to freeze my age, as a matter of convenience. I will revert to my current age, whatever that may be, once my Quest is complete.”
“Assuming that the Maiden Taiwan’s memory is accurate,” Jumper said, “you have been at it for at least a decade, and probably longer. There’s no telling how long a span that forget whorl wiped out.”
“True,” Hilarion agreed. “But I think that dose of forgetting is wearing thin. Perhaps the Knot or its sheathing is affecting it, reversing it.”
“Try standing closer to it, if yew can,” Wenda suggested.
Hilarion did. He got up and stood nervously close to the boulder. “It—it was longer,” he said. “Twenty years.”
“But that wood make yew forty,” Wenda said.
“Forty-two. I remember now.”
“Forty-two!” Ida said, startled. “I am forty-one.”
He gazed at her with a dawning surmise. “Is it possible?”
“Yew can readily find out,” Wenda said. “Kiss her.”
“I never thought of you in that way,” Hilarion said to Ida. “I thought you were well outside the age my betrothee had to be. Now I feel almost guilty. But yes, I would like to kiss you, Princess Ida.”
But now Ida demurred. “It still seems far-fetched. I would hate to spoil our compatible relationship by proving that there is no match.”
He considered that, and nodded. “I agree. It is not a worthwhile risk. There needs to be some further indication. We need to believe that it could be the case, before risking the refutation of it.”
“Your memory,” Meryl said. “It came back for your age. Surely you knew the name of your betrothee. Can you remember that?”
Hilarion concentrated. “Yes, it is coming back. An odd name. Nirp, I believe. Adissec Nirp.”
“She must be from a far kingdom,” Jumper said.
“I know of no one by that name,” Ida said sadly. Wenda realized that she had just started to entertain the idea that they might be for each other, only to have it dashed by his further memory.
“I have an idea,” Angela said. “Hilarion went close to the Knot to remember. It is made of old reverse wood, with a sheathing of new reverse wood. Could his memory of the name be reversed?”
The others stared at her. Then Wenda smoothed a place in the dirt and printed out the name, backward, letter by letter. P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S I-D-A. “Princess Ida!”
“It is you!” Hilarion cried.
“Then perhaps we should …” Ida said, blushing.
“Oh, yes! To verify.” Ever a man of action, he stepped up to her, gently enfolded her, and kissed her.
There was a coruscation of brilliance from the touching of their lips that radiated out to brighten the scene, warming them all. It intersected Ida’s moon, causing it to radiate a burst of colors. The ground glowed, and the nearby trees, and then the sky itself. It caught Wenda, warming her hollow frontside and to a lesser degree her backside. A giant beating heart formed, scintillating in rainbow colors, enclosing them in the center. Pastel hues coursed through it, making a fog of sparkles. The world faded out, leaving only that picture in the center.
There was the swamp where Princess Ida had lived. A stork flew low, carrying a double load. A stray wind buffeted it, and it almost crashed. It fluttered its wings valiantly and managed to recover elevation. But the content of one of the bundles rolled out and splashed into the water. By the time the stork realized what had happened, and turned back, the baby was gone. The stork had to go on with the one bundle it retained. There was after all a delivery to make on a tight schedule.
That baby was Ida, and she had been rescued by a passing nymph from the adjacent Faun & Nymph Retreat. The nymph took her to the retreat, where the others paused in their ongoing celebrations and clustered around admiringly. They had no memory of ever seeing a baby before, but they instantly adored it. They collected milkweed pods and fed the baby, and swaddled it in warm ferns. Baby care came naturally to them.
As the day ended, the fauns and nymphs settled down for sleep, as they normally did. They left the baby in a comfortable nest with plenty of milk, intending to return to
her in the morning.
But fauns and nymphs have no memory of the past. Each day is completely new to them. They completely forgot about the baby.
Fortunately the nearest neighbors were benign water dwellers, the otterbees. One spied the isolated bundle, and investigated. Then the friendly creature, knowing the forgetful nature of nymphs, did what it otter, and took her to its den. There the mama otterbee did what she otter, and dried and swaddled the baby in soft dry leaves. The otters took care of her in the following year, teaching her to swim, then to crawl, then to walk. She was human, so they taught her the human language. They took very good care of her.
When she was a year old, a party from a far island came. Their magic had shown them that the ideal bride for their two-year-old son was here. So they set the little boy, Prince Hilarion, down beside Princess Ida and held a ceremony of betrothal.
“She’s a princess?” the otterbees asked, amazed.
“And a Sorceress,” the party’s seer said. “Be sure she comes to consummate the marriage when she is twenty-one.”
“We will,” the otterbees promised.
The visitors put the two children together and had them kiss, sealing the deal, and there was that coruscation that bathed the swamp in lovely light. By the time it cleared, the prince’s family was gone, and Ida was as she had been before, just another baby. Only now she had a glorious future.
Then a stray forget whorl forged through the swamp, wiping out all memories of the occasion. The otterbees still cared for Ida, but they no longer remembered her destiny.
She grew up into a fine and beautiful young woman. When she was of age, the otterbees told her that it was time for her to seek her fortune, for they were sure she had one. They just couldn’t remember what it was. So she set out, and after many adventures discovered that she was the twin sister of Princess Ivy, daughter of the King of Xanth. She posed for one picture as she settled in to her suite in Castle Roogna. That picture looked exactly like the one the fun house had shown, of Hilarion’s betrothee.
Later she acquired her orbiting planet, Ptero, the connection to all the imagination of existence, and was recognized as a Sorceress. The magic of the planet interfered with pictures, and so there was never another made of Ida as she aged. That was why the fun house lacked any recent picture, and had to use the early one.