But not like this one, she suspected.
They left the garden. "I think I need to take the Currant to my history volume," she said. "This may finally signal the end of my quest." She hesitated. "Do you wish to come along?"
"Sure," Ciriana said.
"We'll see the mission through to the end," Sherlock said.
"We have to," Drew said. "We haven't saved your life yet."
Clio was gratified. "This way. I know a good path up the mountain."
The dragons tried to fly ahead, but both of them dropped to the ground.
"Something's wrong!" Drusie cried.
"Oh, I forgot," Clio said. "The Simurgh lives here, the oldest and wisest bird in the universe. She enforces a no-fly zone around Mount Parnassus. No fly is affected, but nothing bigger than an insect can fly. I'm sorry."
"We'll just have to make the best of it," Drew said bravely, accepting Clio's assistance to reach her pocket, while Sherlock picked Drusie up similarly.
She led the way. Several maenads spied them and charged in, but desisted when they recognized Clio. Several did eye Sherlock before going, however. That reminded Clio uncomfortably of what Emell had said about liaisons with them. It seemed the wild women sometimes had more on their minds than sheer mayhem. They could be extremely fetching, with their phenomenal bare curves, if a person liked that type. Men generally did; it was why the maenads were able to lure unwary men to their destruction. Did they really consider stork summoning to be torture, or were they just saying that to preserve their image?
Then the giant Python slithered in, and departed similarly. Clio needed no additional protection here on Mount Parnassus; it was her home. But this time she noticed something disquieting: the Python had eyed her in much the manner the maenads had eyed Sherlock. What could that possibly mean?
They came to her suite halfway up the south peak. Ciriana was delighted; she was promptly bouncing on the bed. Sherlock was more restrained, but he was clearly intrigued. Drew and Drusie scrambled around exploring it.
Clio went to her desk and brought out the Currant Events volume. She opened it. And sighed.
The pages remained obscure.
"What do you see?" she asked, showing it to Sherlock.
He squinted at the text. "There seems to be print there, but I can't quite make it out."
"That's my problem. Some enchantment obscured the text of a volume I have obviously already written, so that it can't be read. The Currant was supposed to fix it."
"I think you have to actually use the Currant," Sherlock said. "Merely possessing it isn't enough."
"How do I do that?"
"My best guess is to squeeze it into juice, and use that on the pages."
Clio got a bowl, then took the Currant in both hands and squeezed. It was huge and soft, and quickly squished into juice. Soon she had a fair quantity.
She fetched a small brush and dipped it in the juice. She painted it on part of the obscure text of a page. It made a red smear, but did not clarify the words. So much for that.
Sherlock spread his hands. "I suppose I could try reversing it, but I fear that would merely ruin it for its intended purpose. I am becoming wary of my own advice."
Ciriana tired of exploring the premises with the dragons and came up. "Juice!" she exclaimed. "I want some!"
Clio shrugged and fetched a cup. She poured a little red juice from the bowl, not wanting to risk all of it. "This may be tart," she said.
The girl took the cup and gulped the juice down. She made a face. "Not sweet enough." She glanced at the tome. "What are those words?"
"There are no words," Clio said. "It's just a blur."
"No blur. I can't read them, but those are words."
"She drank the juice," Sherlock said. "She sees the words."
"I'm supposed to drink it!" Clio said, a bulb flashing. She lifted the bowl and sipped from its edge.
The text clarified. She read the words at the top of the last page. "Zyzzyva—Freshly zombied female fighter in very good condition." She looked up, puzzled. "I'm sure I wasn't writing about her in this volume."
"May I have a sip of that juice?" Sherlock asked. She handed him the bowl. He sipped, then looked at the text. "That's the Good Magician's lost Book of Answers!"
She looked again. So it was: Humfrey's monstrous compendium of magical information, that he had spent a century or so writing, and now used to answer querents' questions. She should have noticed before that this book was much larger than her own. "How did that come to be here?"
"Some rogue demon must have played a prank and switched it with your history volume."
"I'm sure that wasn't the case when I was here before."
"It must have happened while you were out. The prankster figured no one would notice."
"And no one did," she agreed, disgruntled. "What am I to do with this?"
"If I am correct, and the volumes have merely been exchanged, I should be able to reverse that exchange. Let me see." He touched the volume.
It changed. She recognized her familiar text. "That's mine!"
"The real sappy romance?" Ciriana asked.
She saw Sherlock stifling a smile. Just as well. "The Demoness Metria has her own way of seeing things." She turned to the first page. "Chapter 1: Clio. Clio was tidying up her office, as she did every century or so even if it didn't really need it." She looked up. "This is definitely it. This is my adventure, my current events."
"Currant events," Sherlock agreed.
She turned to the last page, but it was blank. The next to last page ended at " 'Let me see.' He touched the volume." "It covers my life up to a few minutes ago," she said. "But it's unfinished."
"As is your life," he agreed. He looked at the last page. "I see it does have a message: 'Loose ends not tied.' That seems to cover the situation."
"But I made it safely back here, and now I can read the volume, not that I need to," she said. "So my adventure in Xanth is done, fortunately."
"What of the child?"
Clio put her arm around Ciriana. "She can stay here. I like her."
"Will she remain five forever? If so, the Acquaintance Ship would have sufficed."
"She can wait until she grows up before eating of the Tree of Life. Then she can remain her maidenly age indefinitely."
"And the dragons?"
"We don't want to stay here," Drew said, surprising them both. "We're dragons; we need to be out and around, exploring, hunting prey, toasting the toes of bad folk."
"And we need to fly," Drusie said.
"You are certainly free to go," Clio said, disappointed. "Though I must say I have enjoyed your company."
"But have you saved her life yet?" Sherlock asked.
"No, and that bugs us," Drew said.
"So we'll have to stick around a little longer," Drusie said.
"But she faces no dangers, here in her home," Sherlock said.
"And that really bugs us," Drew said. "We don't see any chance, here in this safe place."
"There's really no need," Clio said. "You have been extremely helpful throughout, and have surely earned your freedom."
"It's not the same," Drusie said morosely.
"And it would seem you don't need me further, either," Sherlock said.
"But I thought you were going to stay!" Clio protested. "I thought we had an understanding. That we could be together. That we could marry."
"I believe we do. Can you say the words?"
She opened her mouth—and the words did not come out. "Oh, Sherlock, you're worthy! You're a Magician, and you've done so much for me, and I really would like to have your company. It gets so dull here! But I can't quite say the words."
He nodded soberly. "That's not the basis for marriage. Then I think the kindest thing to do is to consider the adventure concluded. I will go my way. I do thank you for enabling me to discover my full powers."
"Please, Sherlock! Don't leave me! Give me more time. I do want to say the words. I just can't say th
em insincerely. Maybe in time I'll be able to."
He considered. "I do love you, and do not wish to hurt you. If my absence would cause you distress, I will remain here. But for the moment I will take a walk around the premises."
"As you wish," she agreed, feeling thoroughly clumsy. What was the matter with her? He was such a decent man, and a phenomenal Magician. Any of her sisters would have been glad to marry him.
Sherlock and Drusie went to the door. "Can I come too?" Ciriana asked, running to join him.
"Welcome." He took her hand.
Clio was alone with Drew. "I'm not sure it's my life that needs saving," she said. "I've got a problem, and I don't know what it is."
"You mean if we could solve your problem, it would be like saving your life?"
She smiled. "Yes." But she knew there was nothing the dragons could do. Apparently she had lived alone so long she had lost the ability to love. That was her tragedy.
Drusie appeared, flying in through the window. Drew flew up to meet her, then on out.
"Sherlock has reconsidered," Drusie said. "He wants you to marry him."
Clio was thrilled. "Then we'll do it! I'm so glad."
There was a scream. Clio launched herself out of the suite, horrified by what she might find. It was Ciriana, standing on a knoll, her little hands covering her face. There was no sign of Sherlock. "What happened?" Clio demanded.
"The big snake!" the child cried. "Suddenly it was there. One gulp!"
The Python had ambushed Sherlock! It had gotten him before he could invoke his magic. Now Clio screamed. She ran down the slope, too horrified to think straight. "Sherlock! Sherlock! I love you! I love you! Come back to me!"
The scene changed. There were Sherlock and Ciriana, walking along the path as if nothing had happened. "You said it!" Sherlock exclaimed.
Clio stopped running. "Where's the Python?" she asked stupidly.
"No Python here," Sherlock said.
She must have wound back the scene and saved him, though she hadn't been conscious of that. It hardly mattered. "Yes, I said it. I love you! When I thought you were dead—"
A calculating look crossed his face. "Drew! Drusie!" he said. "Is this your doing?"
The two dragons appeared in the pockets, where they had always been. "Yes," Drew said. "We did it."
"You told me Clio had said the words, and Drusie told Clio I was ready to marry her," Sherlock said. "But what made her scream?"
"We made a scene," Drew said. "So she would think you had died."
"You tricked us!" Clio said indignantly. Now she realized that she should have caught on when she saw them flying: that had to be illusion, not reality, here in the no-fly zone.
"We made you say the words," Drusie said. "So you could marry Sherlock and adopt Ciriana and live happily ever after, and our job would be done."
There was a pause. Then Sherlock nodded. "They did do that. Can you say them now that you know I'm not dead?"
The words came out with no hesitation. "I love you."
He took her in his arms and kissed her. "Then I will marry you, and we'll adopt Ciriana as our daughter."
"Goody!" the child exclaimed, clapping her hands ineffectively. "At last! Now I have a mommy as well as a daddy."
"Our work here is done," Drew said.
"But we don't need to depart if we don't want to," Drusie said.
"But we can't fly here."
"That's right. But we don't really need to if we stay in pockets. Let's remain with these nice people for a while."
They returned to the suite. Clio looked at the end of the volume. "And they lived happily ever after," she read.
Clio thought about it, vaguely unsatisfied. She glanced at her wrist, and saw the compass still there, the blue arrow meandering aimlessly. What was she missing?
She remembered something: the Good Magician had given her the compass, which had sent her on a wild and sometimes dangerous tour of Xanth. He had been evasive about his reason for subjecting her to the indignity of the Challenges, and requiring a Service of her for her Answer. Despite his well-earned reputation for grumpiness, he was not a mean-spirited man, and he did not forget his friends. So why had he done it? He never did anything without reason.
She believed she knew the answer: there was a Demon bet relating to her participation. Probably something like whether she would follow the blue arrow to the end no matter how crazy the route got, or quit in disgust along the way, or get herself killed. That bet had surely been decided by now. The stakes could be as big as worlds; the Demons had no humane limits. Magician Humfrey had had to go along with it, lest calamity befall Xanth. Hence his mysterious behavior.
Demons, she thought. I need the information for my record. Please, if you care to tell: who won?
I did, the Demoness Venus replied.
What were the stakes?
One kiss—that I don't have to give.
Clio had gone through all that—for one kiss. So much for worlds at stake! Venus had bet on the woman, and won. Thank you, Demoness.
The compass faded out. Its mission was done at last.
Clio took firm hold of the final page and ripped it out of the volume.
Sherlock, Ciriana, and the dragons stared.
"I thought we had an understanding," the little girl said tearfully. "You were going to be my mommy."
"I still am, for a while," Clio said. "Just not the way it is described."
"If you prefer not to marry—" Sherlock began.
"All of you have been catering to me," Clio said. "And I really appreciate it. You helped me get through my very own personal adventure. Now it's done, and you're willing to stay here with me on Mount Parnassus. But think about it: this is really a big garden, supervised by the Simurgh. There's no danger here, not for legitimate residents. Not even the prospect of aging and dying. There's no challenge. There's no flying, and I don't mean just with wings. Before long you'll all be desperate for anything to relieve your overwhelming boredom. You don't have histories to write. You'll be twiddling your thumbs. It will be death in life, eternally. As it was for me, before I went back out into Xanth."
They gazed at her, not arguing. What she said was true.
"And what about me?" she continued. "So now I'll have everything I had before, plus a husband, daughter, and maybe a nice dragon or two. And I'll be almost as bored as the rest of you. What kind of life is that?"
"We thought that was what you wanted," Sherlock said meekly.
"A really sappy romance," Ciriana agreed.
"So did I. But now that I actually face the prospect, I know better. I have had more than a century of this secure, detached, ultimately sterile life. I don't need another century of that scripted existence. When I went out into Xanth, my life resumed, and my curses. I lost my curves, I faced danger every day, and I knew that I was destined to die young. But at least I lived. And I found great friends, and a family. And I'll be damned if I'll destroy you by locking you into this living coffin." The suite shook with the force of her expletive, which had forced itself through without getting bleeped out despite the presence of the child. This particular child could handle it. "Had that been my object, we might as well have stayed aboard the Acquaintance Ship and let our souls be slowly leeched away."
They watched her, expressionless.
"So you won't be joining me here in the garden," she concluded. "I'll be joining you there in Xanth. I may not live long, but I'll be complete for the time I have left. I regret that I can't promise you a lifetime of me, but I'll give you everything I have in whatever time there is. When I'm gone, maybe Sherlock can reverse a maenad and make her the perfect companion. I hope that's a sufficient bargain. It's all I can offer."
Ciriana ran in and hugged her. Sherlock stepped forward and touched her. "You may have forgotten something."
"Whatever it is, you are welcome to it. There had to be some worthwhile point to this adventure. Not just a stupid Demon wager. You won't have to live for me anymore; I'
m going to live for you. Isn't that what love is all about?"
Then she felt odd. Her body was changing. Oh, no! Was she dying already? That hardly seemed fair.
"You forgot my power," Sherlock said. "I can reverse curses too. I have reversed yours. You have your curves back, and you will face some special joy every day of your life, and you will not die young, you will live old. As long as you are with me. I can't guarantee the reversal beyond my immediate sphere of influence."
Clio looked at her body. Indeed, she had curves. She felt the relief of her curses, and knew it was true: he had reversed them all. Only a powerful Magician could do that—but of course, he was one. They would have a long time together, out in Xanth. Suddenly they had it all.
"I'll still have to keep up with my volumes of history," she said. "But I think I can make notes for them as we travel, and return here just briefly every so often to write them up."
"We can bear with brief visits here," Sherlock agreed. Then he kissed her. She floated, as it were.
Clio looked around. "But before we go—Ciriana—my daughter—"
"Oh, I know," the child said. "Come on, dragons. We have to leave them alone while they make with the mushy stuff. Let's go talk with the Simurgh about that no-fly zone."
When they were outside, Ciriana's surprised voice came back. "Look! Storks!" As if she didn't know what was alerting them.
Author's Note
This is the first novel in the second Xanth magic trilogy, which of course is three cubed. That is, the twenty-eighth Xanth volume, as duly recorded by Clio, the Muse of History. Whether Xanth will reach the fifty-fourth volume, completing the trilogy, depends on the state of the market and whether I live to age ninety-four without suffering more than the requisite brain rot.
Two Xanth novels ago I intended to change from Windows to the Linux operating system. I didn't make it then; despite what open source fans may claim, it's not an easy change. But one Xanth novel ago I was using it. For this one I changed again, to a more advanced Linux system with parallel hard drives and the next generation of my StarOffice word processor: OpenOffice. I like it very well, but it still was not easy. You see, I'm an ornery independent nut—it's the way ogres are—and I don't use the standard KWERTY keyboard, I use Dvorak. Most computer systems have it, and so does this one—but mine is the original, not the flawed version the computer folk put on. So I need to change it to mine, and therein lies the hassle. This system had the wrong Dvorak, and resisted my modifications. So I started this novel on my old Linux system and did the first five chapters. Then when I finally got the keyboard right I changed to StarOffice on this new system, dubbed MoNsTeR, and did chapter 6. Then I got OpenOffice and did chapters 7-18 in it. OpenOffice is nice; it is file oriented, has beautiful clear font display, and saves files to half the size of MS Word files, effectively doubling my storage space. So if you notice some change of type or quality at these points, that's why, though I suspect it's all in your marvelous imagination.