As you wish.
Clio was doing what she felt right, and what she had the courage to do. She hated it. She had never cried herself to sleep before. This was the first time.
In the morning they bade farewell to the villagers and resumed their trek, following the blue arrow. Beyond the village the sound gradually returned, and so did the problems. Sherlock encountered sturdy footwear sitting by a sign saying TAKE ME.
"Those look like steel-toed boots," he said. "They could really help protect my feet in this nasty jungle."
Clio was wary of such seeming gifts; with the exception of the deaf village, this trek had been almost constantly awful. Even the village had led her to a realization that made her feel worse than she had in decades. But she did not speak; it was his choice.
Sherlock reached for the boots—and they became metal toads that jumped up and kicked him. "Ouch!" he cried, grabbing his ankle. "Steel toads! And I fell for it."
"I can unwind that," Clio said.
"No, I deserve to suffer for my error. Save your power for true need." She let it be, though it did look as if he would have a nasty bruise.
The way ahead slowly cleared, forming a rough path. There were dangerous plants, but they were back from the path, and no bad animals were near. They were suspicious of this, but the blue arrow still pointed the way, so they followed it.
They came to what might be a far-flung branch of the Gap Chasm. It was a serious depression, too broad to jump over, with a narrow winding path down the side. The blue arrow pointed to this path. Clio had severe misgivings, but what could they do? The arrow was their guide.
They followed the path down, Sherlock leading with Drusie, Clio following with Drew and Getaway. The path was almost too narrow to support them, but not quite. Portions were slippery. They followed it slowly, not taking any chances. As a result, it was the better part of an hour before they reached the base of the crevice. Clio was relieved to stand on level ground again.
A horrendous face appeared. "Abandon hope!" it intoned dramatically.
"You're a demon," Sherlock said.
"Demon Zaster, not at your service," the thing agreed.
Clio groaned inwardly. That would be D. Zaster, or disaster in the punnish nomenclature of demons. They generally took names that reflected their interests or nature, so this was not a good sign.
"We're just passing through," Sherlock said. "We'll soon be out of your way."
"I think not," Zaster said. "We have use for you."
"How come this one's not sexy like Metria?" Getaway asked at her ear.
"Female demons like to be sexy," she replied. "Male demons like to be ugly."
"What use?" Sherlock asked.
"I will be candid," Zaster said, "though I hardly need to be. We want your souls."
"You can't have those!" Clio protested. "It's not possible."
"So you say. You're just trying to fool us. The only thing you dull humans have that demons don't have is souls. You think that makes you better than us. So we're just going to take yours, and then we'll be better than you."
"I think we had better get out of here," Sherlock said.
"I agree." It wasn't possible for the demons to take their souls, but she hardly cared to let them make the attempt.
They turned back to the steep path. But now four more demons appeared, barring their retreat. Each looked worse than the others.
"Meet my henchmen," Zaster said. "The Demons Stroy, Viate, Mise, and Mean."
Clio ticked them off in her mind: Destroy, Deviate, Demise, and Demean. This was not good.
"Maybe the other direction," Sherlock whispered.
They turned—and there was another demon, this one female. "Demoness Lirious," she said with a dangerous smile.
"What's a nice girl like you doing with a bunch like this?" Sherlock asked her.
Lirious laughed so hard she fogged. "I'm not nice, and I'm not a girl," the fog said. Then it reshaped into a form that would have done an ogress proud. "This one's mine," she said to the other demons.
"I doubt it," Sherlock said, a chip of wood appearing in his hand.
The figure fogged again, becoming twice as shapely as before. "Doubt you may," she said. "But meanwhile I will play with you." Her clothing melted away, revealing purple bra and panty, each fuller than the other. "We've been watching you for an hour, letting you walk into our trap."
Sherlock was silent. Clio looked at him, and confirmed the worst: he had freaked out, dropping his chip of reverse wood. That was the liability of being a man.
"This must be the Danger of the Day," Drew said.
"It certainly seems to be," Clio agreed grimly. "Some are worse than others."
"We'll toast and steam them."
"I fear that won't be effective."
"We'll see."
They launched themselves from their pockets. Drew flew down at Zaster's feet, jetting fire. But the fire passed right through the demon's material without effect.
"What's this?" Zaster asked, amused. "A firefly?"
"A dragon!" Drew said, though Clio knew the demon couldn't hear him. He flew up and fired a blast at Zaster's left eye. But that too passed through harmlessly.
The demon whipped his hand around and caught the dragon. "I think we'll have dragonfly soup today." Drew was caught, his wings pinned back. He tried to bite the demon's fingers, but his jaws snapped on nothing. The demon's flesh was solid only where he wanted it to be. Meanwhile Drusie was having no better luck with Lirious. She steamed first a toe, then the nose. The demoness's mouth became long, like that of a wolf, and snapped the little dragon out of the air. Drusie too was caught.
Clio had been afraid that the little dragons were overmatched in this case, and that had been confirmed. They had been bold but insufficient. "Well, we seem to have the situation in hand," Zaster said, glancing at Drew in his hand. "Now for the finale."
There was no direct escape. Clio realized that she would have to use the windback. But she dreaded it, because they had taken an hour to get here, and she would have to wind back that time to get them back to the brink of the canyon. That would add an hour to her age, and might not help much, as the demons had surely not lied about watching the party descend. The demons had been there, invisible, ready to grab them the moment the party tried to turn back. Also, where else could they go? The blue arrow had led them here.
She had to try to find out why. Maybe the demons would explain, if she inquired. Bad characters often loved to brag to their victims; it was part of their badness. "How do you expect to take our souls?"
"We'll make you give them to us," Zaster said, still holding Drew helpless.
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"First we'll ask you nastily. Then if you don't do it, we'll torture you until you do. If you hold out until you die, we'll grab for your souls when they try to flee your bodies. Something should work."
This was looking worse. Humans did sometimes lose or yield their souls, though it was seldom if ever pleasant for them. "Why do you want souls, when other demons don't?"
"Other demons are soft. We're from a more recent Demon Wave of colonization, and still fresh and mean. They have accepted the local order; we know better. They think they can get half souls only by marrying mortals; we figure to get whole souls without tying ourselves down like that."
Clio hadn't realized that there were demon waves of colonization, but that was because she hadn't been paying attention. She had recorded only the human waves. That would have to be rectified, at such time as she returned to writing Xanth histories. If she returned; this just might be where she met her early death.
"But souls are only burdens to demons," she said. "They make demons behave halfway decently. They hate that. You really don't want souls."
"So you say," he repeated. "But we figure that's because other demons have taken souls on human terms. We'll take them on our terms, and not suffer any of the bad effects."
There was no reasoning wit
h him. But there had to be some way out of this, otherwise the blue arrow should not have brought them here. What could it possibly be?
"Enough dawdling," Zaster said. "Time to ask you for your soul." He stepped close to her and put his ugly face almost against hers. "Give it to me, you helpless mortal creep." True to his threat, he was asking her nastily.
What could she say? "No."
"Good. Now we get to torture you." He stepped back, appraising her with a disconcerting squint. "You're a shapely one, so we'll make female use of you first."
"You mustn't," she said, alarmed.
"Ah, but we must. Unwilling mortal women can be a lot of fun. Promise you'll kick and scream."
"No." But somehow that defiance seemed less than ideal.
"Yes," he said zestfully. He noticed the dragon in his hand, and threw it away. "I will go first."
Clio tried to flee, but the four other demons jumped to grab her arms and legs. Their hands were brutally hard. They held her upright, facing their leader.
Zaster reached out and grabbed her shirt. He ripped it off, exposing her bra. "Yes, nice, because it's mortal."
Actually the fullness of her bra was provided mostly by the nymph bark, but the demon hadn't inspected her closely enough to catch on. He was already going for the skirt. He ripped it off, exposing her panties. They were clean, but the way he stared at them made them seem dirty. Unfortunately he didn't freak out; demons weren't as vulnerable that way as mortal human men.
"Now for the real goodies," Zaster said, one hand reaching for each piece of underclothing.
Clio couldn't help herself: she struggled and screamed. Neither was effective, but the demon was pleased. "Good, but I think you can do better. Kick harder and scream louder, please."
She shut her mouth and stood still. But when his brutish hands grabbed at both pieces, pinching her flesh right through the material and bark, she kicked valiantly and screamed louder.
"Excellent. I think you are ready for action now."
She was at the end of her tolerance. She would have to start the windback, even if it did have to go back an hour or more. If it shortened her life or killed her—well, she'd rather die that way, than this way.
A small voice rose from the ground. "I'm trying to be polite. How long do I have to do it?"
It was the golem, who had been flipped off her shoulder when the shirt came loose. He was dusting himself off.
Zaster looked down. "What in heaven are you?" Bad demons swore by invoking their worst concepts.
"I am Getaway Golem, sir."
"Well, get away, golem, before I squish you under my foot, like this." Zaster's horny callused foot stomped down as the golem skittered aside.
Getaway turned to Clio. "Do I have to stay polite?"
Something clicked in her comprehension. "These demons have shown themselves to be unworthy of politeness," she said carefully. "You may treat them in whatever way you wish, and we shall not hold it against you."
A grin spread across his face that was almost bigger than he was.
"Really?"
"Really," she agreed. "In fact it might be amusing to see to what extent you are able to annoy them."
"Great!"
Zaster allowed a twisted smile to meander across his face. "If the dialog with the midget is quite finished, we shall resume our more important business." He reached again for Clio's underwear.
"Is that so, spittoon puss?" Getaway inquired, allowing his effort of politeness to fade.
Zaster's hand paused. "How's that again, splinter?"
"I guess I did get your name wrong. Your puss looks more like a used chamber pot."
Demons were difficult to insult, but this seemed to be getting there. "What kind of pot?"
"Outhouse, offal, refuse, crap, poop, whatever fits. It's the first time I've seen a blivet that talks like a demon." Getaway paused. "You do know what a blivet is, stink-mouth?"
For half a moment the demon froze, his eyes bulging remarkably. It seemed he was familiar with the term.
"I'm sure I don't know that word," Clio said politely. "Perhaps Demon Zaster is also unfamiliar with it. In that case it would be unkind to clarify it for him."
The golem grinned, understanding her perfectly. "Get this, peanut-brain. It's a five-pound container overflowing with ten pounds of stinky—"
This time he paused but did not dodge as the demon's foot stomped down on him. The foot landed—and vaporized. It had been reversed.
"Owww!" Zaster exclaimed, hopping about on his other foot as the first one drifted away in acrid smoke. His leg now ended at the ankle.
"Serves you right, gimpy," Getaway said. "Next time try to stomp more effectively. I don't like messing with amateurs. You should be able to do it without losing half your mind."
The foot reformed. Zaster jumped, coming down on the golem with both feet.
Both feet went up in smoke. "Now you've lost the other half of your mind, pinhead. I know by the stench."
Zaster dived for the golem, grabbing him with both hands. And of course the hands puffed away.
"And there goes your personality. What are you going to use to snatch at panties now, idiot?"
This demon really was rather stupid. "Get the midget!" he shouted to his henchdemons.
They promptly let go of Clio and dived for the golem. Getaway dodged right into the first, so that the demon's descending head smacked into the wood body—and vaporized. Then he ran around in a circle, spreading chaos whenever he touched a demon. "Nyaa! Nyaa!" he cried. "Can't get me, you boobs! Whatsa matter with you? Got butterfingers?"
But the demons were done for. They were floating away as disorganized roils of smoke. They would surely reconstitute in time, but they would not be bothering the human party again.
"One remains," Clio murmured as she chafed her wrists. She might have bruises, but she was glad to be free and unmolested.
"Got it." Getaway charged across to where Lirious stood. "Hey, ogress-face, whyn't you put some flesh in that underwear? You don't want folk to call you stringbean, do you?"
The demoness oriented on him. Evidently she had been so busy fascinating Sherlock that she hadn't picked up on the action elsewhere. She removed the dragon from her mouth and spoke. "What in Xanth are you?"
"Getaway Golem, here to spank your anemic bottom, prune head. Whatcha going to do about it?"
Demonesses were not notably easier to insult than demons, but the golem did seem to have a knack for it. "Listen, you pipsqueak wood chip, I don't have to take that from you."
"Yeah? Then get out of my way, hag." He charged toward her nearest foot.
Lirious threw the dragon at him. Drusie spread her dented wings and zoomed clear. Clio had been concerned that she had been damaged, but it seemed the demoness had not gotten around to chewing.
Getaway ran right into the foot. It, too, puffed into smoke. "Why you little beast!" the demoness cried. "Reverse wood!"
"Well, at least you're not quite as stupid as your malefolk. Now get out of here while you still can, you imitation piece of meat."
Lirious considered, then vanished. She had evidently concluded that the advice was good.
Sherlock, freed at last from the spectacle of overstuffed panties, revived. "What happened?"
"You freaked out," Drusie told him. "Getaway saved you." She projected more details of the recent action.
Sherlock nodded. "Thank you, Getaway. I'm glad I made you."
"Just remember I helped, a month hence."
"I will." Sherlock turned to look at Clio—and freaked out again. Because she remained in bra and panties, filled by the nymph bark.
"Clothe me in fake illusion!" she told Drew.
Sherlock, recovered, addressed Clio. "Are you all right?"
"I am, thanks to Getaway. He certainly came through this time. He saved us all. But I remain mystified why the compass directed us here." She glanced down at it.
The blue arrow now pointed back the way they had come. That sug
gested that their business here was finished. But what had they accomplished that would help her find the Currant?
Getaway ran to rejoin her—and the blue arrow swung back the other way.
A lightbulb flashed over her head. "The compass is reversing! That's why it pointed the wrong way—Getaway was close to it, affecting it."
The golem stopped. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, dear. Not intentionally. It's just that I forgot that your nature would affect the other magic I have. We were going not where we should, but where we shouldn't. I'm afraid you will have to ride with Sherlock henceforth."
Getaway looked at the man. "Remember, I saved you."
"I remember. Though I suspect there are details I missed." He stooped to pick up the golem.
"There are," Clio agreed. "But Getaway did prove himself most admirably."
"It's a relief to know that this was a mistake," Sherlock said. "Let's get back on the correct path."
Clio was more than happy to agree.
9
Elf Elm
It was late in the day, but they didn't wait; they forged back up the steep path, determined to get clear of the demon region. Darkness came, filling in the chasm below them, creeping up behind as if to catch them and draw them back. They were tired, but they hurried.
They reached the brink as night closed about them. They were safe, or at least out. It would have been better to get farther away, but Clio was dead tired. "I must rest," she said.
"We all must rest," Sherlock said. "The dragons were battered too."
"Yet it is dangerous to remain here. There are many predators of the night."
"I'll put reverse wood around us in a circle."
Then Clio saw the blue arrow changing direction. The clock arrow was nearing its mark. She glanced at Sherlock, and saw Getaway sitting on his shoulder. So the golem wasn't influencing it. So why was it shifting?
"I wonder—could the compass be directing us to a safe harbor, as it were? Because we need it?"
"Whatever that is would have to be close," Sherlock said. "Both fatigue and darkness prevent anything more."