Currant Events

  "You knew that?" Sherlock asked. "Why didn't you pop in and tell me before I got bashed by an ogre?"

  "You got bashed? That's one incident I missed."

  "Clio unwound it. But I'm bound to run into more trouble if I don't get a handle on it. It's gotten me banished from the Black Wave."

  "But to answer your question: reverse wood is dangerous, so I stayed clear until you got more interesting. You never can tell what it will do."

  "So I've been discovering."

  "It might make me always get the right word the first time, or it might make me helpful instead of mischievous. I couldn't risk it."

  "I suppose that makes sense."

  "So why are you so interested, Muse?"

  "The Good Magician told me I needed to obtain a certain red berry, a currant, in order to fathom the mystery of an unreadable volume of history. He gave me a compass to find my way. The compass led me to Sherlock."

  "Just in time to save me from the ogre," Sherwood said. "But I have no idea how to help with a red berry."

  "I know where there are red berries," Metria said.

  "I suspect it's not any red berry, it is one particular berry," Clio said. "I also suspect it will not readily be found, and that Sherlock has some relevance to my search."

  "And maybe if I help, I'll be relevant too."

  Clio saw that the demoness really did want to be wanted. "Perhaps."

  "Then let's get on it." Metria oriented on the man. "Would a demonic kiss inspire your imagination?"

  "I don't think—"

  "Or maybe a glimpse of something sinfully nice?" The demoness's dress shrank, exposing curves above and below. She of course knew exactly what interested men.

  "I doubt this is relevant," Clio said. Metria was entirely too eager to flaunt her ample charms.

  "I'm not clear how your flesh can help," Sherlock said. A chip of wood appeared in his hand.

  "Oh, all right, I'll cover it up."

  Metria's dress disappeared entirely, exposing her overloaded bra and panties. Sherlock's eyeballs locked into place and his jaw dropped. He had freaked out.

  "Metria!" Clio snapped. "That's not appreciated."

  "Oops. I meant to cover. It went the wrong way. I'll try again." Then her underwear vanished. "Oops!"

  Sherlock's eyeballs started sweating. His eyes couldn't close, so they were in danger of melting.

  Clio caught on. "He's holding a chip of reverse wood. It's reversing what you're trying to do."

  "Oh! Then I'll go bare nude naked unclothed." The full dress was back, decorously high and long.

  Clio snapped her fingers. Sherlock resumed animation, blinking. "Yes, that's good," he agreed.

  "He doesn't know about his freakout," Drew reported.

  "A blue dragonfly!" Metria said, spying him. "How cute!"

  "I'm not a dragonfly, I'm a telepathic dragon," Drew told her indignantly. "Do you want me to toast your toe?"

  "Apology," the demoness said insincerely. "I haven't met many telepathic dragons."

  "We're colonizing Xanth, to replace the soulless dragons it lost."

  "Ah, now I see. But you do seem rather small to terrorize other creatures."

  "Drusie and I are just part of the migration. There are big dragons too."

  "Fascinating. And you have souls?"

  "We're from Princess Ida's moons. We were all soul; now we have bodies too."

  Clio noted something odd. "Wasn't that a flat chip you conjured, Sherlock?"

  "Why yes. I wasn't even aware of doing it."

  "Then why is it now a sphere?"

  Startled, he glanced down. "I don't know."

  "You worked it with your hands," Metria said. "It must be softwood."

  "No, it's hardwood," he said. "Feel it." He held out the chip.

  The demoness reached for it—and puffed into smoke. "Ouch! It reversed me," her voice came out of the roiling cloud.

  "I'm sorry." Sherlock withdrew the chip.

  "You are dangerous," she said, the roils forming into spinning legs, arms, torso, and finally head. "How can I seduce you if I can't touch you?" Her clothing formed with the assembled body.

  "Only fully clothed and in your right mind," he suggested with a smile.

  "Both are against my element."

  "Against your what?"

  "Composition, animus, persuasion, character, bias—"

  "Nature?"

  "Whatever. You'll just have to get rid of that reverse wood."

  He glanced at the little wood sphere. "Clio thinks it may protect me from danger. She may be correct."

  Clio suppressed her smile. He meant the danger of being seduced by a demoness.

  Metria caught on. "Seduction isn't a danger, it's a delight."

  "Whatever," Sherlock agreed, frowning.

  "We will take your word that the ball of wood is hard," Clio said. "But it does seem to have changed its shape. Did you abolish the chip and conjure a sphere?"

  "I don't think so. I just worked it with my fingers, like this." He stroked his fingers over the ball, and it deformed into a flattened form.

  They all stared. Now there was no doubt: he had worked hard wood as if it were soft clay.

  "A second talent?" Clio asked. "This isn't usual." It was an understatement; no person in Xanth had two talents.

  7

  Getaway Golem

  "We are confused," Drew Dragon said, projecting his seeming voice to all of them. "What is this about talents?"

  "In Xanth," Clio said, "Every creature is said to be magic, or to have a magic talent. Thus human beings are not magic, but they have magic talents. Each has just one talent, and each person's talent is different, with certain notable exceptions. The curse fiends, or curse friends as they call themselves, all have the same talent of cursing, though there may be variations of curses there. The winged centaurs all have the talent of flying, as their wings could not sustain them naturally, but there are variations in the magic mechanisms of their flight. But we know of no exceptions to the single-talent rule." She glanced at Sherlock. "Which is why I am inclined to doubt that this is the present case."

  "But he conjured reverse wood," Metria said. "Now he's molding it with his hands. So he's a conjurer and a hand sculptor. That's two."

  "There has to be another explanation," Clio said firmly. "We simply have to find it."

  "You realize, of course," Metria said, "That this is far too interesting to allow me to depart."

  "Of course," Clio said wearily. It was just about impossible to get rid of the demoness when one wanted to. But she did have redeeming qualities, carefully hidden.

  "Could the wood be soft when he first conjures it?" Metria asked.

  "It isn't," Sherlock said. He set down the squashed sphere and conjured a new chip of wood. "Can you handle it, Muse?"

  "Call me Clio. Yes, I believe I can, as long as I'm not trying to perform magic." She took the chip. It was indeed hardwood, inflexible, and it had the tingle of magic. It was reverse wood, all right. She handed it back. "Now mold it."

  He took it back and ran his fingers over it. The wood bent and twisted. In a moment he had fashioned a little donut shape. He handed that back to her. It was quite hard.

  "What's the verdict?" Metria asked.

  "This figure is perfectly firm," Clio said. "You may touch it if you wish."

  The demoness laughed, her flesh bouncing in ways a normal woman could barely aspire to. "Even if I didn't trust you, Clio, I would take your word, since I don't dare touch it. Why doesn't it reverse you?"

  "Perhaps it does," Clio said. "Let me try my magic, cautiously."

  She held the wood torus and tried to wind back just a few seconds. Instead the scene around her speeded up. Metria flitted to the side, Sherlock snatched the wood from her, and she stopped her magic.

  "So nothing happened," Metria said, seeming disappointed.

  Clio was guarded. "Perhaps. Tell me exactly what did happen."

  "You told Sherlock to take
it back, he did, and that's all."

  "What happened before then?"

  "I asked why it didn't reverse you, you said you'd try it. I moved to the side to get a better view. All routine."

  Clio nodded. "I was trying to wind back time. Instead I wound it forward. I was reversed."

  "It did not seem so to us," Sherlock said.

  "Well, it wouldn't. Others don't know about the windbacks either, except the dragons, who can read it in my mind."

  Metria glanced at Drew. "So?"

  "It is true," Drew said. "We saw things happening routinely, but in her mind it was a blur, speeded up."

  "She fast-forwarded into the future," Drusie said. "The rest of us didn't realize."

  "And the effect stopped when she no longer carried the reverse wood ring," Metria said. "So it works on her too, when she does magic. The rest of us are magic, so it nullifies us anytime."

  "Was that a danger?" Drew asked.

  Clio smiled. "No, merely a harmless reversal. But I shall have to be most careful, lest I encounter a situation where a reversal would be dangerous."

  "All of which means I had better go my own way, so as not to represent mischief to you," Sherlock said. "Regretful as I am to do it, because you have helped me gain far more understanding than I had before."

  "I don't think so," Clio said. "My compass still points to you. Whatever I need from you has not yet been accomplished."

  "I would give it to you immediately, if I knew what it was."

  "Maybe your clothing," Metria suggested.

  "She wants to get him undressed," Drew said. "Then she'll undress and tempt him."

  "At the very least, she hopes to embarrass him awfully," Drusie said. "She loves mischief."

  "Tattle tails," the demoness said, looking at their tails. Both dragons laughed, appreciating the pun.

  Sherlock tried to blush, but was too old and dark to manage it. "If anything I wear is what she needs, I'll give it to her."

  Clio wanted to demur, but couldn't be sure that wasn't it. "Try one item at a time. Put it away from you, and if the compass follows it, then we'll know."

  Obligingly, Sherlock removed his shirt, set it on the stone, and walked away from it. The blue arrow followed him. He took it back and tried his shoes. They weren't it either. He went behind a tree and tossed out his trousers. They weren't it. Then his underpants. Not them.

  Then he was stuck behind the trunk, because he would have to go naked below the waist to recover them. "Ah, if you ladies would depart for a moment—"

  "Not a chance," Metria said, her dress dissolving. "I'll fetch them for you." She scooped up his pants and underpants.

  "Just toss them behind the tree," Sherlock said.

  "No, I'll carry them around to you." She walked toward the tree, deliberately jiggling in places that no normal woman could manage.

  "Metria!" Clio said, appalled, knowing that her objection wouldn't stop the demoness. She had the man where she wanted him, defenseless.

  Sherlock tossed something from his hiding place. It landed at Metria's feet. She tossed the clothing behind the tree, reformed her full dress, and retreated.

  Some distance away, she halted. "Now why did I do that? It was the opposite of what I intended."

  Both dragons laughed again.

  Then Metria caught on. "Reverse wood! That chip at my feet didn't null me, just reversed my action. Instead of humiliating you, I helped you."

  "Which I sincerely appreciate," Sherlock agreed, stepping out from behind the tree, fully clothed.

  Clio smiled. The man had outsmarted the demoness. He was learning how to use his talent.

  But that reminded her of the blue arrow. "So it's not your clothing. So it must be you yourself. And we still have not solved the riddle of your two talents."

  "That reverse wood has gotten to me," Metria said. "I'm going to be genuinely helpful. Could they be two aspects of the same talent? Such as handling reverse wood?"

  "That has promise," Clio agreed. "But is it just reverse wood? If he is able to shape other wood, that would make it a separate talent."

  Metria disappeared with a visible pop, and reappeared half a moment later with a loud image. "Here's a chip of regular wood." She flipped it to Sherlock.

  "Thank you." He worked it with his fingers, but it did not change. "This appears to be immune to my effort."

  "Try other materials," Clio suggested. "Just in case. We'll have a better idea once we define your talent."

  Sherlock tried stone and bone and a piece of metal that Metria fetched. None of them changed their shape.

  "So he handles reverse wood," Metria said. "By conjuring it or shaping it. Not really two talents, just one larger talent."

  "That seems to be the case," Sherlock agreed. Another piece of wood appeared in his hand, and he began molding it into the shape of a human figurine.

  "Do you have artistic or sculptural talent?" Clio asked, interested.

  "Some," he agreed. "Not magic; I merely like to carve wood or shape other substances, like clay, into things I can trade for food or whatever. I'm not great at it, but usually others can recognize my forms."

  "You're sculpting me!" Metria exclaimed. "Look at that shape!"

  It was true: the wood was assuming a voluptuous form. "Sorry," Sherlock said, and squeezed it so that it became mannish instead. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  The demoness paused. "Does he mean that?" she asked the little dragons.

  "Yes," Drew said.

  "After the way I tried to embarrass him?"

  "Yes. He's a decent guy."

  "Darn! My half soul is getting to me. I can't make trouble for him now."

  "Souls can be awkward for demons," Clio agreed. She remembered when Metria had gotten hers, by marrying a mortal, whom she now kept out of the way in perpetual bliss. Demonesses could do that to mortal men if they chose.

  "How do they do that?" Drusie asked.

  "Actually D. Mentia is doing it at the moment," Metria said. "She's a little crazy."

  "You let another demoness be with your husband?"

  "She's my alter ego. It's all right; she's pretending to be me."

  Both dragons looked confused, so Clio stepped in with a more coherent explanation. "Demoness Metria was trodden on by a sphinx, centuries ago. She survived, but it fragmented her into three alternate selves, the third of which is a child. The adults can operate independently, so Mentia is distracting her husband while Metria is free to stir up mischief elsewhere."

  "Can't her husband tell the difference?" Drew asked.

  "Surely he can, because Mentia gets her words right. But it seems he has the sense not to complain. Some men prefer their wives a little crazy."

  "Xanth is strange in ways we did not expect," Drusie said. "Should I try to be crazy, Drew?"

  Drew considered. "You're already perfect."

  "I could be perfectly crazy."

  "That seems good." They both laughed, exchanging a mental kiss.

  "Love is good," Sherlock said a little wistfully.

  "You never found love?" Clio asked. She wrote the histories, but wasn't much aware of what folk did when they were offstage. There were simply too many people and creatures in Xanth, all doing different things simultaneously.

  "I never did," he agreed. "And surely won't, since my youth has passed me by."

  There wasn't anything positive Clio could think of to say to that, as it was probably true.

  Meanwhile, his nimble fingers continued to work, shaping the small wood figure. He was really quite good; even the tiny face was fully formed, seeming about to speak.

  "So you're making a little man," the demoness said. "Make sure he has a—" She glanced around. "Are there any children here? How old are you little dragons?"

  "We're adult," Drew said. "Why?"

  "It's the dreaded Adult Conspiracy to Keep Interesting Things from Children. They have to be eighteen before they can use bad words or know how to summon the stork."

&nb
sp; "That's ridiculous!" Drusie said.

  "Of course it is. What's your point?"

  "Why shouldn't children know such things?"

  Metria dissolved into smoke, and reformed as Woe Betide, her little child aspect. "Gee, I don't know."

  "It's to prevent children from summoning babies until they know how to care for them," Clio explained.

  "Never mind," Sherlock said. "My golem has one. See." He held up the golem.

  "Eeee!" Woe Betide screamed, freaking out. She fractured into flying shards of glass, which glinted prettily in the sunlight, then dissolved into smoke. The smoke swirled and condensed back into Metria. "How could you, you pervert!"

  "Sorry. I forgot you had changed. Will Woe Betide survive?"

  "It will take her some time to unfreak. Finish your bleeping figurine."

  Sherlock smiled. "If poor little Woe heard that word, she'd freak out again."

  "No she wouldn't; she wouldn't recognize it. She's a nice girl."

  "Don't little human girls ever see little human boys without clothing?" Drew asked.

  "They sometimes do, but they freak out," Metria said grimly. "You saw."

  "And they never tell," Clio said, remembering her childhood.

  "It's done," Sherlock announced, holding up the figure. It was a perfect little wooden man.

  "Get him some clothes," Metria said.

  "Why? He's intended to be a work of minor art as he is."

  "Because children are coming."

  "How do you know that?"

  "D. Vore's turn is ending; my turn is starting."

  "Demon Prince Vore is Princess Nada Naga's husband," Clio explained to the dragons. "Their daughter DeMonica keeps company with Metria's son Demon Ted. The demon adults take turns babysitting, because the human spouses can't keep up with them."

  "We don't need babysitting!" DeMonica protested, appearing at Metria's left. She was a rather pretty girl with three oink tails.

  "After all, we're eight years old," Demon Ted agreed, appearing at her right. He was a handsome boy with an unruly shock of hair.

  "The same age as the three Princesses," Monica said.

  "An excellent age," Clio agreed. "And are the princesses allowed to go unsupervised?"

  "Well, they're not half demons."

  "And you are," Metria said. "And you will still have adult regime."