"Just friends," Sherlock said.
Ana shifted to full human form. She had no clothing, being unable to wear it with her other forms. Some shape shifters had clothing included; some didn't. She had exactly the kind of curves Clio had lost. "Would you be interested in a passing dalliance?"
He laughed. "What would a healthy young creature like you want with an aging black man?"
"Variety. Older folk have more character, and they expect less."
"I'm flattered. But I think my heart is committed elsewhere."
"She must be quite something."
"She is."
Ana shifted back to naga form. "Then I'll be on my way." She returned to full serpent form and slithered rapidly onward.
Clio felt a pang. She had understood Sherlock was emotionally uncommitted. But maybe he had just said that to avoid embarrassment with the naga wench. Still, Ana Conda had been right on target about character and expectations.
They went on. They passed an open area where piles of fluffy stuff were scattered. Sherlock checked it. "Wool, just lying around. Someone must have lost it."
"No, I've seen this before. Someone was daydreaming, and this collected."
"Daydreaming?"
"Woolgathering."
"Oh. My thinking seems woolly today." He was a good sport about missing the pun.
They passed the wool and came to a pleasant region with a cave opening by a river. "Why this is Com Passion's cave," Clio said. "I recognize it. I must have business with her."
"Maybe she has what you seek."
"A currant? Then why wasn't I led to her directly?"
"You seek a current? In a river? I thought we had had more than enough of that."
"Currant with an A. It's a red berry. The Good Magician told me to find it. I have no idea why it should help me."
He nodded. "Ah, now I remember; you told me when the Demoness Metria was distracting me, and it slipped my mind."
Clio smiled. "The demoness has that effect, deliberately."
"I know it, yet can't prevent it. My intellect knows better, but not my eyes."
"That comes with the state of being male." But she was heartened; it meant he might be freaked out by certain sights, but was not completely governed by them. "Just as my intellect can't seem to explain the reason for the currant."
"It certainly isn't obvious to me. But if that's what you need, that's what you need, and I'll help you find it if I can. Let's talk to Com Passion."
"You are remarkably patient." She didn't add that he surely wanted to return to the woman he was committed to. She was almost sure he had said he had no prospects, but maybe he loved a woman who didn't love him.
Confound it! She had to know. So she didn't go into the cave. "Sherlock—it may not be my business, but my feminine curiosity is tormenting me. You told the naga lady that your heart was committed elsewhere. But I had understood that—"
He held up a hand, smiling. "You must have told the dragons to stay out of my mind."
"I did. It seemed inappropriate to spy on your private thoughts."
"I appreciate that. Complications remain, but the one I meant was you."
"Oh!" Surprise and relief prevented her from saying more at the moment.
"We could have told you," Drew said, "if you had let us. He really likes you."
"I regret embarrassing you," Sherlock said. "Maybe I shouldn't have said it."
"But my lost curves—how—?"
"As the naga said, older folk have more character. I like yours. You are the nicest and most mature woman I have encountered. Curves are for the eyes; character is for the heart. But since I have no right to presume, I assure you that I will not act in any untoward manner. One advantage of age is that we have better emotional discipline."
That was true, yet she was thrilled. "Next time you get the urge to presume, please do so."
He shook his head. "You are kind."
"I am serious."
He paused, then seemed to make a decision. "Now is not the time. But when the occasion seems appropriate, then you may repeat what you said, and maybe we can come to a better understanding."
"I agree." At that time he would surely set her straight about the distinction between intellectual admiration and physical attraction. "Now we must brace the friendly machine." Without giving herself any more time to consider, she marched into the cave. Sherlock followed.
A screen lighted with pink script, greetings, travelers.
"And hello to you, Com Passion," Clio said. "I think you know me. My companion is Sherlock of the Black Wave. We also have two small telepathic dragons from the moons of Ida, Drew and Drusie."
Dragons. What a delight. Terian, come see.
A lovely young woman appeared. "This is Mouse Terian, Com Passion's mouse," Clio murmured to Sherlock.
"Glad to meet you," Sherlock said politely.
Terian stepped into him and kissed him on the cheek. That effectively silenced him. Then she looked at the little dragon in his pocket. "Hello, Drusie."
"You're a mouse!" Drusie exclaimed. "It's in your mind."
"Yes, I really am a mouse. But I assume human form when meeting humans. I regret I don't have a dragon form."
That can be arranged, the screen scripted. Com Passion, like her friend Com Pewter, had the power to change reality within her cave.
"No need," Drusie said. "We can project as mouse forms if we need to." She glanced across at Drew. "But we don't need to." She projected an impression of jealousy for Terian's beauty. It was humor, as neither dragon nor mouse cared much for the nuances of human appearance.
What Brings you here, Muse of History?
"A compass lent me by the Good Magician. It pointed me here without explaining why."
I don't know why either. But perhaps it was to do me a favor.
"Perhaps," Clio agreed warily. The sapient machines could be extremely demanding.
Panion, appear.
A miniature version of Passion appeared, looking shy.
This is my daughter-system, Passion explained. She is getting complicated enough to set up her own site, but Com Pewter and I haven't found a suitable one in Xanth. Since you are going to Counter Xanth, that may be a better place. Take Panion along.
"Counter Xanth!" Clio repeated, surprised. "How do you know that?"
It's on the Outernet.
"I'm really not sure—"
Muse agrees.
"I'm sure it's all right," Clio agreed. She knew her reality had been summarily changed, but it did seem all right. The compass had led her here, after all.
She picked up the tiny machine and put her in her other pocket, along with the bagged piece of gourd and the durian fruit.
Muse gets immediately on her way.
And thus they were on their way to Counter Xanth. Com Passion had been somewhat overbearing, but it seemed that this was what the blue arrow intended, for now it pointed a new direction.
"What is Counter Xanth?" Sherlock asked.
"That's complicated to explain. It's an alternate magic land that is now being settled. Things are reversed there."
"Ah—like reverse wood. That interests me."
"Not like reverse wood. You'll have to see it to understand, I think."
"I'll be glad to."
A bell sounded, startling them both. Then Clio realized it was from her pocket. She brought out the little machine. "Was that you, Panion?"
YES, the screen printed in neat little slanted capitals. WHAT IS REVERSE WOOD?
"You don't know that? Didn't Passion share her database with you?"
SHE SAID I SHOULD LEARN THINGS ON MY OWN, SO AS NOT TO BE A PERFECT COPY OF HER.
That seemed sensible. So Clio explained reverse wood for the little machine's little database. And realized that this was a child machine, subject to the Adult Conspiracy. That meant she would not be able to discuss serious things with Sherlock while Panion was with them. She sighed inwardly.
They met a girl walking the o
pposite way. "Don't get close to me," the girl said.
Clio was taken aback. "My dear, we are not going to do you any mischief."
"It's not that. It's because my name as Ann Gina, after my curse. If I touch anyone I make throats sore, and if I get really close, I make hearts hurt. So stay away from me."
"We'll be glad to. Thank you for warning us. But don't you get lonely?"
Ann burst into tears. "Yes!"
"Maybe I can help," Sherlock said. "Take this." He proffered a chip of reverse wood. "It should enable you to make throats feel better, and hearts too."
"Really? I don't understand."
"It's reverse wood. I can't guarantee it will do that, but it seems worth the experiment. Touch me."
A bell sounded. Clio brought Panion out.
WHAT'S GOING ON?
"You don't need to print all the time, dear."
What's going on?
"Sherlock is using reverse wood to cure Ann Gina."
Tentatively, Ann touched Sherlock. "I feel fine," he said. "I suspect if I had a sore throat, it would be better now. In fact I think my middle-aged heart is beating more strongly."
"Oh!" Ann exclaimed. "Thank you so much!" She kissed him on the cheek and went running on down the path. "I must tell my sister, Anna Sthesia!"
"Let me guess," Sherlock said. "She makes folk numb."
"You are getting popular with the girls," Clio remarked teasingly.
"I admit it's fun. Too bad I'm not a generation younger."
"I think your age is fine."
He glanced sidelong at her. "Are you bringing up the matter of presumption?"
A bell rang. Clio brought Panion out again.
What does presumption mean?
Clio defined the word as well as she could, then added to Sherlock: "No. Not while we have underage company."
What aren't you saying? Panion demanded.
"Nothing, dear," Clio said with a smile. But then she had to explain the Adult Conspiracy.
That's horrible, Panion scripted.
"But it is nevertheless the way of it in Xanth, and in much of Mundania too," Clio said. "You must age to maturity before you are allowed to know certain things."
I hate that.
"Children do. Then they grow up and join the Conspiracy themselves."
I'll never do that.
Clio just smiled. She had encountered that before. Children inevitably aged, despite their best intentions, and joined the enemy.
"Drusie and I can't get into Panion's mind either," Drew remarked. "It's frustrating."
"Well, she's a machine."
"Even machines are bound by the Adult Conspiracy?"
"So it seems. Perhaps they are humoring us, as the demons and centaurs do. Passion surely would have told her about this aspect of Xanthly culture, had she wanted her to know."
The day was warm, and they were walking swiftly so as to get somewhere by nightfall. They came to a small river with several stepping stones. "I'm tempted to take a dip, just to cool off," Sherlock said.
"So am I. We have dipped before, in less positive circumstances."
But before they could do anything about it, a head appeared in the water. "Hello, humans!"
"We didn't realize anyone was swimming here," Sherlock said, removing his hand from a button.
"Well, it's not as if I could do anything else." A tail flipped out of the water behind the head.
"A mermaid!"
"Yeta Mermaid," she agreed, drawing her foresection out of the water to show exactly those curves Clio lacked. She had dark short hair, but the rest of her was plainly female.
"I am Sherlock, and this is Clio. We also have two small dragons and a baby computer along."
"Dragons! I don't want to mess with them."
"Small, I said." Sherlock took Drusie from his pocket and presented her to the mermaid. "Meet Drusie Dragon."
Yeta laughed. "Oh, you meant tiny! And pink. How cute."
Drusie jetted some steam in her direction, not far enough to burn her. "We are telepathic."
"Oh, I'm going to kiss you!" The mermaid moved forward with a stroke of her tail and kissed Drusie on the snout. "Sorry about that; I'm just so impulsive and dramatic, and I love anything weird or crazy. Not that you are, of course."
"Of course," Drusie agreed. It was clear that the mermaid liked the little dragon precisely because she seemed weird or crazy.
"Still want to dip?" Clio asked Sherlock teasingly.
"With a dramatic mermaid? I know better."
"Well, some say a mermaid has all the good parts of a woman and none of the bad parts."
"I want the bad parts too."
"I heard that!" Yeta called, laughing. "Come on in, you and the dragons. The river's big enough."
"She looks young," Sherlock said.
She did, but Clio really wanted to cool off. So she did something that in some quarters might be considered unethical. "How old are you, Yeta?"
"Fifty-four!"
Clio turned to Sherlock. "See? She's old enough."
"How many decades did she add to her real age?" Sherlock asked Drusie. "Four?"
"Don't answer that!" Clio said. "We won't question anyone's word."
Yeta laughed again, as she did so readily. "I love acting on the spur of the moment. Don't you?"
"Yes," Clio said. She set Panion upright on the bank so she could see what went on, took off her clothes, and jumped into the water. It was delightfully cold. In a moment Sherlock joined her, compromising only by leaving his undershorts on. The dragons dived in too. They had a fine splashing contest and got thoroughly cool.
But soon they had to move on. "Bye!" Yeta called as they resumed their walk. "It's been fun!"
And, indeed, it had been fun. "I'm glad we did that," Clio said. "I haven't done anything like it in ages. I mean, not for fun. Ghastly poop washing doesn't count."
"Neither have I," Sherlock said, laughing. "Though I do have wet undershorts."
Clio tried to think of a smart remark, but couldn't. The mermaid surely was underage, and a completely naked man was banned by the Conspiracy.
The bell sounded. Why was it fun?
By the time they explained that, they were well along the way, and it was time to camp. They foraged for wood and food, made a fire, and settled down to enjoy the evening repast.
"What's that?" Clio asked as she saw something amidst the pies and fruit.
"Why that's bread. There's a breadfruit tree nearby."
"That's pun-kin bread! With pun-kin seeds on top."
"So?"
"So anyone who eats that will emit egregious puns all evening."
The bell sounded. What's a pun?
"Oh, my, has your education been neglected!" Clio exclaimed.
Sherlock took a bite of the bread. "Did I ever tell you about my two aunts? Auntie Biotic always made me feel well when I was ill, and Auntie Septic made me very clean."
"You ate the pun-kin bread," Clio said. "Now you're emitting puns."
He laughed. "Actually I nullified it with a chip." He showed the chip of reverse wood. "I feel quite serious."
"You were teasing me."
"Or Panion. Puns are best appreciated in action."
She leaned across and kissed him on the cheek. Then she realized what she had done. "Oh, my! I'm getting impulsive."
"Like the mermaid. It's contagious."
"It must be." Then she got to work explaining the nature of puns to Panion, who had trouble getting it.
As she settled down to sleep, with Panion set in a makeshift crib, the dragons searching out bugs to toast, and Sherlock at a decorous distance, Clio realized that she had enjoyed herself more this day than in any prior time she could remember. For the first time in decades she felt truly alive, though all this living in real time was inevitably bringing her closer to that dreaded fate of youthful death. Maybe it was that she truly wanted to experience the passions of life before she lost her life, so was being very free. Or maybe sh
e just liked the company.
In the morning they resumed travel, refreshed. Soon they reached the Gap Chasm. "This would seem to be a challenge," Sherlock remarked.
"We'll cross the invisible bridge."
"Of course."
She knew where it was, having written about it many times. Still, it was awesome stepping out over the immense abyss that was the Gap with no seeming support. She suffered the ridiculous notion that someone might be down there, peering up under her skirt. She knew it was ridiculous, because what man would have an interest in doing that, now that her curves were gone? Still, she felt exposed, and was relieved when a small cloud passed beneath them, obscuring the ground below.
They reached the far side. "Now we bear right, down the cliff."
"But there's no path!"
"There's an invisible path, or rather, one covered over by illusion." She demonstrated, feeling carefully with her feet. Soon she was walking knee-deep in apparent rock.
"We see it too!" Drew exclaimed. "That's nice illusion."
I can change it, Panion scripted. And the illusion vanished, showing the ledge-path as it really was.
So the baby machine did have the same ability the adult machines had. But this was not the place. "Put it back," Clio said firmly. "This is supposed to be concealed."
Awww. But the illusion reappeared.
"Why hide a path into the chasm?" Sherlock asked.
"Because it's really a path elsewhere, and we don't want just anybody using it. You'll see."
They moved on down into deeper illusion, until it closed over their heads like a canopy. They came to the face of a building set into the stone cliff. Clio raised a knuckle and knocked on the door.
It opened. A rather homely young woman stood there. "Who—" Her eyes widened. "Can it be?"
"Clio, the Muse of History," Clio agreed. "With Sherlock of the Black Wave. I believe we have business with you, Cube."
"Then come in. You couldn't have found us by accident."
"It does seem unlikely."
There were three others in the stone building. Cube introduced them: "Ryver, my fiance. Cory, and Tessa." Then, to her companions: "This is the Muse of History, and Sherlock."
"Welcome," Ryver said. He was an uncommonly handsome young man. It would have been hard to imagine what he saw in Cube, had Clio not known their story.
"I am actually traveling with three others," Clio said, "two small dragons and a baby machine: Drew, Drusie, and Panion, the daughter of Pewter and Passion." She showed Panion, whose screen turned pink. "She can change reality in her vicinity, but I have asked her not to do that here. The dragons are telepathic, so will seem to speak to you by touching your minds."