"I'll make her polite!"
Comealong animated. "You'll what, sawdust brain?" Then she took off running.
Getaway ran after her. In a moment the two were hidden in the surrounding brush.
"I don't think he knows how to handle women," Nissa said with at least half a smile.
"And she has yet to be tamed," Clio agreed.
"Maybe if someone gave him some advice," Nissa said. "I think she likes him."
"She should," Clio said. "They are the only two reverse wood golems in Xanth."
"I can conjure them back," Sherlock said. "But they would just run again. I think they need to work it out themselves."
"But will they return to save my tree?" Nissa asked.
Clio saw the elf was seriously worried. "I think we need to help get this situation under control, if we can. But I'm not sure what we can do."
"Maybe we can help," Drew said. "We can track the golems for you, so you'll know how to advise them."
"But you can't get into their minds," Sherlock said.
"We don't need to. We'll just show you what they're up to, so you can do something."
Sherlock rolled one eye. "I suppose it is our responsibility."
"Go ahead," Clio agreed. "We'll figure out something."
Drusie left Sherlock's pocket and flew rapidly after the golems. Drew remained in Clio's pocket. "She will observe the golems and send the scene to me," Drew explained. "I will show it to you."
"Thank you," Clio said, wishing she could figure out exactly what use this was likely to be.
In two and a half moments the scene appeared: Comealong was running fleetly through a field, Getaway in hot pursuit. "I see it!" Nissa exclaimed. "A vision!"
"Drew is putting it in your mind as well as in ours," Clio explained. "It's the semblance of illusion, re-creating a real scene."
"How can you do it at such a distance?" Sherlock asked.
"Drusie and I have a close mental connection. She's compressing the picture and sending it on a tight beam. I'm decompressing it for you. It's one way in which two telepaths are better than one."
"I am truly impressed," Nissa said.
"They are impressive dragons," Clio said.
Comealong ran up a mountain. It looked cold up there; in fact there was an ice man with a pole. The golem paused. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm ice fishing," the ice man replied as his line pulled in an ice cube.
"Oh." She ran on by him. Too close; her body touched his, and suddenly he was a fireman with a ball of fire on his line. He had been reversed. He looked disgruntled; his countenance was smoky.
Getaway charged by, touching the fire, and it reversed again, becoming the ice man.
Comealong ran down the other side of the mountain. There was a beautiful woman brushing her radiant hair before a mirror. The golem paused again, assessing the woman, frowning in the manner women did when considering competition. This creature was as competitive as it was possible to be. "Who are you?"
"I am Iri Sistible. My talent is to attract men."
"So why are you alone?"
"I don't want a man who is merely hostage to my talent. I want one who is immune. Then when I win him, I'll know it's true love."
"Good luck," Comealong said, and brushed by her.
The woman became a hag whose talent was clearly to repulse men. She did not look entirely pleased by her conversion, though surely only true love would keep a man near her.
Getaway arrived. "Ugh!" he said, and tried to avoid her.
But Iri was not a fool. Maybe she had seen what happened to the ice man. She reached out and touched him. And became as she had been.
"Wow!" he said. "On second thought—"
"Your girl is escaping," she reminded him.
"Oh. Yes." He ran on.
Meanwhile Comealong came to several mermaids lolling in a spring. They were robustly healthy and lovely, as that species tended to be, but these were even more so.
"What's going on here?" the golem asked.
"We live in this healing spring," one replied, flinging her lustrous tresses about. "It gives us healing powers."
"Interesting." Comealong touched the water.
The mermaids suddenly looked sickly, and the healthy foliage surrounding the spring wilted. "Oh, we are undone!" one cried. But the golem was gone.
Getaway arrived. He touched the water, and all was restored. "Oh thank you!" a third maid exclaimed, her bare bosom heaving prettily. "However can we thank you?"
The golem hesitated, eying her healthy front. Mermaids put on excellent fronts, though they tailed off behind.
"Remind him he can't touch her without reversing her," Clio murmured.
"We can't get into the golems' minds," Drew reminded her. "Because they don't have minds."
That was true; they were animated solely by magic. "What about the mermaids?"
The mermaid's expression changed. "But your touch will destroy us," she said sadly. "So you must go on."
"Oh, right," Getaway agreed, prying his eyes away. He ran on.
The scene oriented on Comealong, who was approaching a ridge with two peaks. "What are you?" she asked.
"We are two tors," they answered. "We can privately educate you."
"Ha!" She ran between them.
The tors turned ugly as Getaway arrived. Daunted, he paused. "What are you up to?"
"We are tor mentors," they replied. "We will make you miserable."
But he ran between them, and they reversed again, becoming amiable tutors.
"There would be serious repercussions if he didn't cancel her mischief," Clio said. "We can't let this continue; it's dangerous. Let me talk to him again."
"I'll connect you to the nearest dryad."
Getaway was passing a tree Comealong had overlooked. A bare girl appeared before him. "Let me give you some advice," she said.
He paused. "Who are you? You don't look reversed."
"I am Meggie, the nymph of this tree."
"But that's a maple tree, not an oak!"
"Yes, I am much sweeter than those tough oak dryads."
"What's this advice?"
"You'll never catch her if all you do is chase her. She has to want to be caught. Only then will she let you."
"But how can I make her want to be caught?"
"Tell her you love her."
"That's ridiculous."
"Try it anyway. You need to enlist her help in curing that Elf Elm."
The golem didn't question how an isolated nymph knew about that. He ran on. "Comealong! I want to tell you something."
She paused, about to touch a bell in the shape of a door. Normally it would ring when a person opened it: a doorbell. Clio wasn't sure how it would reverse. "Tell me what?"
He came close. "Something really important."
"Well, out with it," she said, about to run again.
Getaway hugged her. "I love you!"
"Stop mauling me, you pervert!"
Getaway hesitated. "You must be kidding."
She delivered a wooden stare. Then slowly her expression softened. "Yes. I was reversed. But you need to understand who's governing this relationship."
"I am!"
She drew away and turned around, flashing her tiny panties at him. Getaway freaked out and fell down.
Comealong pinned him to the ground and kissed him. "Who?"
"You are," he said dazedly.
"I'm glad we got that settled. Now what's going on?"
"We're curing an elf elm."
She nodded. "Then let's get to it."
They returned to the elm.
"I think we're done here," Clio said as the picture faded. "Thank you, dragons."
"Oh, thank you so much!" Nissa said. "This is so wonderful!"
"A return for your hospitality," Sherlock said.
But as they were about to go, there was a shuddering of the ground. Something huge was tramping near.
"What could that be?" Clio as
ked alarmed. She glanced at the compass; the blue arrow was wavering uncertainly, and the red arrow was about to hit its mark. The deadline was short, for whatever it was.
"The Danger of the Day," Drew said.
"A huge horrible giant," Drusie agreed.
And Clio had an appointment with it. The compass knew.
"Oh, I know that tromp!" Nissa said. "That's Paul!"
"Who?" Sherlock asked.
"The big lumberjack! He's coming to chop my tree."
"We shall have to stop that," Clio said.
"When the tree is better, and the other elves return, they'll protect it," Nissa said. "But right now it's defenseless. Oh, woe!"
Now the ground shuddered worse, and the giant came into sight. He was the size of an invisible giant, but visible, with a burly body and a huge ax. Behind him came a beast the size of a sphinx, solid blue. That was his ox, ready to haul away the trunk.
"Stop!" Clio cried, running out in front of the giant.
He didn't hear her. His giant boot came down, about to crush her.
She wound it back and tried again. "Stop!" she cried from the side.
He still didn't hear her. He tromped up to the tree and brought his ax off his shoulder. Nissa screamed, but he didn't hear her either.
"I have an idea," Sherlock said.
"Make it quick," Clio snapped. It was not her nature to be sharp, but she was desperate.
"Dragons," he said. He sent a thought to them that so surprised them they forgot to relay it to her. "Do you think that would work?"
"We'll try it," Drew said.
"Try what?" Clio asked, trying to focus. But that monstrous ax mesmerized her. It would require only about ten brutal chops to fell the tree.
Paul lifted the ax high behind his shoulder. He was about to chop. Nissa screamed again.
Then the tree fuzzed and became the big blue ox. Paul blinked. "Babe!" he boomed. "Don't stand in my way when I'm harvesting." But the ox didn't move.
Paul looked around. There to the side was the great Elf Elm. "Oh. I guess I got turned around. Well, sure as I'm the greatest logger ever, I'm gonna take it down." He marched toward the tree, hefting the ax menacingly The tree backed away from him.
Paul stared. "Since when do trees move?" he demanded. He strode after it.
The tree retreated faster.
"Hey, you can't do that," he said. "No tree escapes Paul Bunyan." He broke into a lumbering run.
The tree moved through the forest, staying just ahead of the giant logger. Soon they were out of sight.
Clio blinked. There was the Elf Elm, exactly where it had always been. "What's going on?"
"The dragons switched the images," Sherlock explained. "They made the tree look like the ox, and the ox look like the tree."
Nissa laughed. "So now he's chasing his ox across the landscape, and Babe knows better than to pause."
Clio was amazed. "That was an effective idea, Sherlock." She looked around. "Where are the dragons?"
"They are staying with Paul and Babe, to maintain the illusion. They'll keep those two moving until nightfall. With luck, Paul will forget about this particular tree until the elves have time to return to protect it."
"That's marvelous," Clio said. "How long will it take for the elves to return?"
"Some should come tomorrow," Nissa said. "They check back every few days, just in case. They'll alert the others."
"Then it should be all right." Clio considered. "But we had better wait here until they do, just to be sure."
"That's great," Nissa said.
"And of course we need to be where the dragons can find us," Sherlock said. "And if the logger returns too soon, they'll be able to lead him astray again. He doesn't seem to be too bright."
Clio laughed. "I was fooled too." But she was well satisfied with the day.
10
Dream Man
They were on the proper route; the blue arrow pointed back the way they had come, which Clio knew was correct because it was opposite to the way it had pointed when reversed. Just the four of them: Clio, Sherlock, and the two little dragons.
"I realize that we needed a place to stay for a time and recover," Sherlock said. "But that turned out to be a bit more of an adventure than I might have expected, and we did manage to do a nice elf a favor. Do you think your compass intended all that?"
"I confess to being in doubt myself," Clio said. "Had I known about the threats to the Elf Elm I would have been glad to help; the elves are generally good people. But I don't see the compass as being a caring device. I'm not sure now that it even cared about our being tired or uncomfortable. I think it simply points to where I'm supposed to go. The benefit to the Elf Elm was probably incidental."
"That was my thought. Did the timer function?"
"Yes. It indicated short deadlines when we met Nissa, and when Paul Bunyan came."
"So it seems we were there to save the tree. I am glad we were able to do that, but I don't see how that forwarded your mission."
"There must have been some way."
"The golems," Drew said. "They had a bad effect on your compass. Did you need to get rid of them?"
"I wouldn't do that!" Clio protested.
Sherlock smiled. "You wouldn't do it in an unkind manner, but it seems it was done. They were given a useful assignment that separated them from us. When that elm is cured, there will surely be others to cure. They are likely to be busy for some time, and well appreciated by the elves."
Clio nodded. "Indeed, that is my idea of an ideal separation."
"So the compass pointed the way to separating from the golems," Drew said. "So that you could resume your quest."
"That seems to be the case. I may have underestimated its sophistication." Then she remembered something. "We were where we weren't supposed to be, because of the day's reversal of the compass. So maybe it simply reoriented from there, taking us to the closest safe harbor. Then it saw about the golems."
"And with respect to me," Sherlock said. "Does it show a time?"
"It never showed a time for you."
"Still, perhaps my time has passed. Maybe I, too, should be assigned elsewhere, so as not to get in the way after my usefulness to your mission is done."
The blue arrow suddenly swung to point to him. But the time arrow faded out. "It seems to suggest that you remain relevant, but without a time limit."
"Then I will remain until it is time for me to go." He paused, then added, "I admit to being relieved."
"So am I. You have been very useful." That didn't seem quite adequate, but she wasn't sure what else to say. Meanwhile the arrow swung back to point ahead; it had deviated only to confirm the need for Sherlock's presence.
"It is pleasant being useful."
"Yet your association with me exposes you to my daily dangers."
"Which I am glad to help abate, if I am able."
They were near the Region of Madness, where magic was especially strong. Clio hoped they would avoid it, as strange things could happen there. Sometimes those strange things wandered on out into Xanth proper.
"There is something strange ahead," Drew said.
Exactly what she dreaded. "But the compass points that way. Is it dangerous?"
"I think not to us. But we need to be careful."
"To be sure."
"I can flip a reverse wood chip at it if I need to," Sherlock said. "I am finding this talent to be increasingly useful."
"Maybe that would work," Drew said dubiously.
Clio wondered what would make a telepathic dragon doubtful, but she stifled the wonder; better to find out for herself.
"It's a dragon!" Drusie exclaimed.
"Why so it is," Drew agreed, amazed. "But so different I didn't recognize it."
Then the creature appeared, coming toward them along the trail. It was huge and sinuous, and it had three heads. It spied them and paused, the heads side by side, snorting small jets of fire.
"That's not from Dragon World," Cl
io said, surprised.
"And I think not from Xanth," Sherlock said.
"That's why we were confused," Drew said. "It's a foreign dragon."
"Can you communicate with it?" Clio asked. "I'd rather not have trouble."
"We're trying," Drew said. "But it thinks in a foreign tongue."
"Try harder," Sherlock said dryly as the three heads seemed to share a decision. The huge dragon might be getting ready to launch itself at them.
Drew scrambled from Clio's pocket and flew to the big dragon. He hovered before the middle head.
"He's trying harder," Drusie explained.
But it wasn't enough. The dragon launched, spreading its wings and leaping toward them. They didn't have time to get out of the way.
There was her danger. She wound it back, having no choice. "Trust me," she said to Sherlock as Drew flew toward the monster dragon. "Flee!"
They turned and fled just before the dragon launched. Caught by surprise, it landed where they had just been. It blew three more jets of fire and gathered itself for another flying leap.
"We'd better get off the path," Sherlock said. "The forest will slow it so I can organize some wood chips."
So that he could reverse the dragon's attack. That made sense. She saw a narrow avenue between the trees of a dense grove. "Here!"
They swerved into the avenue. The dragon landed again, right behind them, and slid on past, caught by surprise again. That gave them another bit of respite. It would take it a moment or a moment and a half to get back on their track.
They ran around a trunk and almost collided with a big hairy baby. It was an ogret—a baby ogre. It was playing an ogre game of smashing stones into pebbles barehanded.
They stopped. The ogret might be harmless, by ogre standards, but its parents would not be. They needed to pass it amicably. "Hello, ogret," Clio said. "What's your name?"
"Adora-ble Bash-ful," the baby answered shyly, squeezing a pebble to dust in its distraction.
"That's nice. We're going on now." They sidled around the ogret and went on.
Just in time, for Bash-ful's parents were returning; the forest floor was shaking with their heavy tread.
The dragon arrived. "Me see drag-ee!" the ogret cried, delighted.
The tramping sounds got abruptly louder and faster. Mature ogres took on young dragons, but this was a baby ogre and an adult dragon. There were sounds of hissing fire and scales being bashed. "That will slow it somewhat," Clio gasped as her feet caught up with her pulses.