"To what?" I asked.
"Hornet, yellow jacket, buzz, sting, to exist or not to exist—"
"To bee?"
"Whatever. Are you in or out?"
I looked at Rose again. "I fear it is the only way, my love."
"I fear it is, beloved," she agreed. "Accept her sponsorship. I will wait for you. I know you don't have any future with a demoness."
"Ah, but what a past he has had with one," Metria said, "and what a present coming up."
"A what?" I asked.
"Gift, token, bonus, gratuity, alms—"
"You had the right word," I said. "I mean what are you going to give me?"
"You have a past and a future; I will make your present interesting. In fact, so interesting that you will be distracted from your studies and will flunk out of the U of M. Then your future will be without Rose of Roogna, here, and she will be tragically disappointed in you. That will be extremely entertaining."
I looked once more at Rose. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"It is a distinctly mediocre idea," Rose agreed. "But the best that offers. Prove her wrong, my love, and return to me with your degree."
Emboldened by that expression of confidence, I did it. "Sponsor me for the University of Magic," I told Metria. "I will succeed despite your distractions."
"Well, then, let's get it on," she agreed. "Smudge a hole in the pentacle and I'll take you there."
I scuffed a hole in the line with my foot. Metria became smoke and curled out through that gap, reforming as a flying dragon. The dragon's huge jaws snapped me up. Fortunately the teeth were more apparent than real and did not crunch me.
"I shall return!" I cried boldly back to Rose as the dragon launched into the air and bore me away.
"I'll be watching!" she called back. I thought she meant to say "waiting," but realized that she had the Tapestry, so could watch me as she had before. That would surely steel my resolve, should it ever waver.
The dragon winged southeast until it reached a large lake. That was Ogre-Chobee, where the ogres had once lived, until they set out for the Ogre-Fen-Ogre Fen. Then the dragon dived. It zoomed into the water, plunging through it, and finally a new world opened out. This was the realm of the demons; the dive into the water must have been merely to mask its location, since demons could dematerialize and reappear far distant in a moment. Did that mean I had done the same? That was an intriguing notion. But it could be that there really was an entrance to the demon realm under the water.
Metria had resumed her usual human form. I know it was no more natural to her than the dragon form was; all forms were unnatural for demons. But I preferred this one.
We were standing before a large desk piled high with meaningless papers. A demon with receding hair and heavy spectacles sat there. This was odd, because demons could assume any form they chose and did not suffer from the maladies of mortals. Evidently this one just happened to prefer this unprepossessing aspect. Beside him was a name plaque: BUREAUCRAT. "Next!" he said.
Metria nudged me. "Enroll, pull."
"What?"
"Yank, tug, wrench, lug—"
"Jerk?"
"Whatever. Do it."
I faced the desk demon. "I want to jerk. I mean enroll."
The demon yawned, showing a gullet that extended, literally, to his feet; he was hollow. He materialized a pencil and complicated form. "Name?"
"Humfrey."
He made a note on the form. "Species?"
"Human."
One bored eye oriented on me, while the other remained on the paper. "Sponsor?"
"The Demoness Metria."
Now the other eye left the paper and oriented on Metria. "Having fun again, female?"
"Well, it does get boring up there in man's land," she said defensively.
"To be sure." Now both eyes focused on me. "You understand that she has no interest in your welfare, Humfrey? That your candidacy will be a joke among demons? That there are simpler ways to arrange to be humiliated?"
"Yes," I said, my mouth getting dry.
The eyes returned to the paper. "Major?"
"Magic."
"Are you sure?"
Suddenly I was uncertain. "I want to be a legitimate Magician among my kind. I understand that a degree in magic from this university will qualify me."
"Correct. Specialty?"
"Information."
Once more an eye aimed at me. "There are easier specialties, which are more dramatic."
"Information is power," I said.
"Motivation?"
"I want to become a true Magician so that I can marry the woman I love."
The Demon Bureaucrat's hand came down bearing a stamp. It pounded the form. "Proceed to your dormitory chamber. Next!"
"But—"I said.
One eye swiveled to cover me. "You wish to withdraw already?"
"No. But don't I have to pay for this? Demons don't do anything for nothing."
"You will pay." The eye left me.
"But how will I pay? I mean—"
Now both eyes returned, momentarily. "In the normal fashion. You will be entertaining us by your folly and failure. Did you expect otherwise?"
I realized that his candor was because he cared not even half a whit for my sensibilities. Everything I did here would be watched by the demons, whose greatest joy was the confounding of mortal folk. I suppose I might feel the same, if I lived for thousands of years with power to do anything I wanted and no need to eat or sleep. No, I should not have expected anything else. "Thank you," I said with what little dignity I was able to scrape up.
"Right this way, fool," Metria said, taking me by the hand.
"But don't you need to register too?" I asked belatedly. "You said you were enrolling."
"I enrolled five hundred—" She paused. "Hours ago. Now I'll get around to taking classes." She dragged me on.
We came to a bare stone chamber. I gazed at it, not pleased. The prospect of lying down on stone that was not bedrock did not appeal. Then Metria snapped her fingers, and abruptly the chamber had furnishings. There were curtains on the window that had not been there before—neither window nor curtains—and a plush rug on the wooden floor that had been stone, and rugs hanging on the walls, and sunlight slanting through the glass panel that was now the ceiling. In the center was a huge round bed.
"Well, let's get it on," she said, making a flying leap for the bed as her clothing misted away. She bounced, and her bare flesh bounced approximately in unison.
"Get what on?" I asked with greater naiveté than I felt.
"Get your clothing off, and I'll show you."
Just as I had suspected. "Forget it, demoness! I'll sleep on the floor."
"No, you won't. You get demerits for acting uncouth.”
This was new to me, but I had no reason to question her accuracy. "Demerits are bad for me?"
“Too many of them will wash you out.”
"Then I'll sleep on the bed. But I'll ignore you."
"Ha!" she said confidently. But there was a tiny hint of uncertainty hovering in her vicinity. I knew what such hints were like; they hovered until they had the chance to magnify themselves enormously. It was good to see that the demons could be afflicted by them too.
I made it worse for her by distributing my few possessions appropriately through the room while rigorously ignoring her. I could see from the edges of my vision that she was making scissor motions with her bare legs, but I never looked directly. Legs that were bare up to the waist could be a distraction, and I wanted her to know that I was having none of it. "Where do I eat?" I asked.
Demons didn't need to eat, but I did, so Metria took me to the mess hall. I wondered why it was called that, until I saw that it was the site of what might have been the worst food fight in contemporary Xanth. So that's what demons did with food! Mashed potato was caked on the walls, jam drooled from the ceiling, and puddings lay like mundane cow flops on the floor between pools of milk and beer.
&
nbsp; "Serve yourself," Metria said, indicating the mess.
My reaction must have shown too plainly, because she dissolved into laughter. She melted right down into the biggest, brownest cow flop of them all, and I heard an echoing "Ho-ho-ho!" from the walls. It seemed that I was not disappointing the demons who wanted entertainment.
But I had a notion how such things were set up, because in my time of marriage to Dana Demoness she had let slip some hints. She had really been a good wife, while she had her soul. The funny thing was that the reason demons didn't have souls was that they were souls. It seemed that when a loose soul served as a body, it lost some of its finer properties, such as conscience and love. Evidently these were not properly things of the body, so the process of forming a body was hard on them. But when a soul occupied a body, even a body that was a corrupt soul, those qualities returned.
I walked to the counter across the chamber. There were tall stools there. I perched on one. Sure enough, a waitress appeared. She was another demoness, of course, playing a role, but roles were the perpetual delight of the demon species. "One slice of apple pie, please.” I said. "And a pitcher of purple tsodapopka." I had discovered Lake Tsoda Popka near the North Village during my years of surveying and had developed a taste for the fizzy stuff.
She reached under the counter and produced these things. "Thank you," I said, and she smiled at me. The only problem was that demons did not feel pleasure the same way mortals did, so her smile was artificial.
I ate my meal, and it was a good one. Apparently the demons intended to play it straight as long as I did. I was here to try for my degree, and Metria was the one privileged to distract me from that effort. The others only served as supporting players. Perhaps they would get demerits if they failed to perform their roles aptly.
I finished in due course and stood. "Don't I get a tip?" the waitress asked.
Dana had not mentioned that detail. Very well. "When you smile at a customer, get your eyes into it as well as your mouth," I said. "Then it looks like genuine feeling."
"Oh, thank you!" she said, smiling with genuine feeling.
I returned to my room. Metria was there, in a stunning see-through blouse and skirt. She was very good with her emulations, and I might have been tempted despite knowing better. There was something about this kind of partial clothing that was more tempting than outright nakedness, perhaps because it gave the illusion that something hidden was being glimpsed. But I remembered three things. (1) She had no interest in me except my failure. (2) Other demons were watching, hoping that I would do something hilarious, such as trying to summon the stork with her. And (3) Rose was probably watching too, via the Tapestry. Suddenly I felt extremely Straight and Narrow.
Anyway, I had something else to do, after my meal. I looked around, but saw no place to wash or other. "Where is—?" I asked.
"Oh, that's right—mortals have natural functions!" Metria said. She gestured, and a door appeared in the wall.
I went to it and put my hand on the knob. I turned it, and the door opened. Beyond was a smaller chamber with the devices I required. I used them.
Then I heard the walls chortling. "Ho, ho, ho!"
Well, perhaps in time they would get tired of such entertainment. I was not about to suspend my natural functions for the sake of avoiding their ridicule.
I found pajamas hanging on a hook. I changed into them. They fit me perfectly. Demons could do things well when they chose.
I emerged and went to the bed. Metria was there, of course, wearing a clinging negligee. She rolled into me as I lay down, showing the deep cleavage of her bosom. "Show me what you did with Dana," she said.
I closed my eyes and breathed evenly. It was a significant effort, but I knew I had to succeed.
"That's what you did?" she asked, knowing considerably better.
"I associated with her for several years before we married," I reminded her. "Then I merely slept with her, as I did with MareAnn. Storks do not respond to mere sleeping. I am not married to you, so I am treating you similarly."
"Oh, fudge!" she swore, and a puffball of smoke flew from her pretty mouth.
"Ho, ho, ho!" the walls chortled. This time I knew that I was not the object of their laughter.
Next morning we went to the first class. There were a number of demons there, male and female, and they looked almost as nervous as I felt. It seemed this really was a university; the only unusual thing about it was that I, a mortal, was attending. I sat in the front row; at the next desk to my left was Metria, looking bored. At the next desk to my right was a demon wearing glasses; apparently some demons did need them for reading. This one's horns were vestigial, and his tail was a soft tuft. Taken as a whole, not one of the more ferocious specimens.
I decided to be positive. "Hello," I said to the demon. "I am Humfrey, here to learn to be a Magician."
"Hello," the demon replied. "I am Beauregard, here to study the liabilities of the living state." He blinked behind his glasses. "I say! Are you mortal?"
"That I am," I confessed.
"Why, you would be an excellent subject! May I observe you?"
"You might as well," I said. "Other demons are, and finding it humorous."
"We have our discourteous members, as do the mortal folk. I would never—"
I was coming to appreciate that all demons were not alike. I was getting to like this one, if he wasn't just pretending to be halfway decent. "Maybe you should insult me too, so you won't get in trouble with other demons."
"But that would be—" He paused, reconsidering. "You mean you won't mind?"
I smiled. "Not as long as you don't mean it. We can exchange friendly insults."
"Excellent, fathead!" he exclaimed, delighted.
"Think nothing of it, incompetent," I responded.
That was the way of it; thereafter we always greeted each other with insults, and we were friends. We were to have a long association. I was feeling better already.
The professor swept into the room. There was a sudden hush. He was an imposing figure of a demon, with gnarled horns and swishing tail, and his fangs made his mouth into a perpetual grimace.
"I am Professor Grossclout!" he announced. "We shall now proceed to an exploration of the fundamentals of metamagic. What is a feasible definition of this concept?" he paused, glaring about. "Beauregard!"
Beauregard jumped. "I, uh, am not exactly sure, sir," he stumbled, looking ashamed.
"Metria!"
"Who cares?" she asked, shrugging. "I'm just auditing this class anyway."
The dread professorial eye spiked me next. "Humfrey!"
"I, uh, think that would be something alongside of or beyond magic," I said, terrified of being shown up as an ignoramus. "Maybe something that—"
"Inadequate!" he roared, cutting me off. He glared around the classroom. "You numbskulls come here with heads full of mush"—he glanced significantly at Beauregard, who cowered in his chair—"and bad attitudes"—he glanced at Metria, who was doing her nails—"but maybe, if you survive, you will eventually learn something about magic." He glanced at me, and I was electrified: I had found faint favor!
We listened, fascinated and terrified. What a creature!
"Simply put, metamagic is that magic which affects, or is defined in terms of, magic itself,” the professor continued, edifying our mushy brains. "The one-time king of the human aspect of Xanth, Roogna, adapted living magic to suit his purpose. The other-time king, Ebnez, adapted inanimate magic similarly. Those are examples of metamagic. Someone who could emulate or otherwise affect the magic talents of others would be indulging in metamagic." The professor continued, and I was rapt; he knew more about magic than I had dreamed existed!
Hours later, dazed by the day's classes, I found myself back in my room with Metria and Beauregard. "What a monster!" Beauregard exclaimed.
"What boredom," Metria added.
"What genius!" I concluded.
The other two looked at me. "I can see why Grossclout li
kes you," Beauregard said.
"I can see I have my work cut out for me," Metria said, dropping into a chair.
"What work is that?" Beauregard inquired naively.
She spread her legs, giving him a good view under her short skirt so that he could see her panties. "To distract this tree-blood from his studies."
I had thought demons had seen it all, but evidently Beauregard hadn't. His glasses turned pink—the exact shade of the panties. There certainly was a difference between demons! "What?"
"Ignoramus, numbskull, blockhead, dunce, simpleton, nincompoop, fool, bumpkin—"
"Sap?" he asked, catching on at last.
"Whatever. I win if he doesn't get his degree." She closed her legs.
Beauregard's lenses began to clear. "I, uh, had better go," he mumbled.
"The toilet's there," she said, and the door to that chamber appeared.
"No, I mean—I don't know what I mean." He stumbled out. There was a "ho, ho" from a wall; apparently I wasn't the only entertaining figure here.
"That wasn't nice, Metria," I said reprovingly.
"Oh? What's wrong with it?" She opened her legs toward me. Now her panties were blue.
"What's wrong is that you're supposed to be tormenting me, not him—and I care a whole lot more about metamagic than I do about your faked-up underwear."
For once she was silent, but she looked ready to explode into a fireball. "Ho, ho, ho!" a wall laughed.
When, tired but exhilarated by learning at the end of the day, I came to bed, there was Rose of Roogna under the sheet. I froze, amazed. "H-how—?"
"Oh, my love, I just couldn't wait," she said breathlessly. "I had to come to you."
I got into the bed with her, hardly believing my fortune. "But how did you find your way here, Rose?"
She kissed me passionately on the mouth. "I looked in a tome for a period."
"A what?"
"Epoch, age, duration, era, term, time—"
"Spell?"
"Whatever. Clasp me close, my love! Make that stork jump!"
"Sorry, Metria. I have a hard course of study ahead."
She kissed me again. "Really goose that stork! I'm ready—" She broke off, realizing that I had seen through her little charade. "Peaches and cream!" she swore, turning into a fair emulation of the stork she had described.