Question Quest

  We did not reach our destination by nightfall, and sought shelter. Crombie's talent indicated the house of an ogre as a suitable place. Distrusting this, I invoked Beauregard. We exchanged the usual friendly insults, to the probable amazement of the others. "Of course it's safe," he assured me. "It's your mission that's unsafe." He explained that the ogre was a vegetarian, so would not crunch our bones. This ridiculous assertion turned out to be accurate; Crunch was a veritable pacifist among ogres.

  So we enjoyed the hospitality of Crunch Ogre, after a bit of repartee, and he served us a good meal of purple bouillon with green nutwood. Then he told us his story, rendered into crude rhyming couplets by the golem. He had met and loved a curse fiend actress who was playing the part of an ogress, and was therefore exquisitely ugly. He had snatched her and hidden from the other curse fiends, avoiding their massive destructive curse by becoming a vegetarian. The curse had oriented on a bone cruncher. It was a surprisingly neat ploy, for an ogre; probably the actress had thought of it. For one thing, that would prevent him from ever crunching her bones.

  But the mock ogress now lay stunned in a dead forest. Crunch wanted to know whether to fetch her from there. Crombie, Chester, and Bink recommended that he do so (Crombie had thought he was doing the opposite, not realizing that ogres liked being made miserable by their females). Beauregard, participating in their dialogue, learned the rest of what he needed about the fallibilities of intelligent life on the surface of Xanth, and returned to his realm to write his dissertation.

  Next day we continued on along a magic path to the Magic Dust Village, which was inhabited exclusively by women of many humanoid species. This was because their men had been lured away by the melody of the Siren. There were trolls, harpies, wood nymphs, sprites, fairies, elves, centaur fillies, griffin cows, and even a female golem to keep Grundy company. That last startled me; someone must have made that one recently, because there had been no females of his species before. Now the women were eager for male company. Indeed, they just about buried us in their eager softness. The males were of mixed feelings about this, some of them being otherwise committed, and one being a woman hater.

  Then the Siren sang—and all of us were lured to go to her, losing our volition. The women tried to hold us back, but could not. Until Crombie the woman-hater rebelled and pecked in his griffin form at a tangle tree we were passing. That got us into a fight with the tree. Its tentacles wrapped around us. Crombie fought his way free, flew away—but then returned with the women of the village, who attacked the tree with torches. Fifty of them went after its tentacles, under the direction of the woman hater. They were grimly determined and courageous. I think that was the beginning of the end of Crombie's problem with women, though it would take time for the end of the end to come.

  But before that battle had been concluded, the song of the Siren came again. It mesmerized us; we males could not resist its spell, though it had no effect on the women.

  But an incident with a battering ram caused a pineapple to explode by Chester's head, deafening him. As a result, he could no longer hear the Siren, and was freed from her spell. He fired an arrow through her heart, and her music stopped.

  We approached her. She was not yet dead. She lay on her little isle in a lake. She was the loveliest mermaid I had seen in a century, with hair like flowing sunshine and tail like flowing water and bare breasts that the Adult Conspiracy prevents me from describing, just in case a juvenile male should happen someday to see these words. She was soaked in blood from her wound, yet she pleaded only love.

  Perplexed by this, I consulted my portable magic mirror. It confirmed that she intended us no harm. So I brought out my vial of healing elixir and healed her. She was instantly healthy again; that type of magic is beautiful to see.

  We learned that though the Siren summoned men, they inevitably were drawn on to her sister the Gorgon at the next isle. The Gorgon's gaze turned men to stone, but had no effect on women. Later, as the Gorgon matured, that changed, and she stoned men and women and even animals. Perhaps she should have been recognized as a Sorceress for that phenomenal power. But for a reason I shall get to in due course, I am not objective about that.

  Meanwhile the Siren was good company. She was a mermaid, but she was able to make legs so that she could walk on land. A certain number of merfolk can do that, though they seldom bother. She made us a dinner of fish and sea cucumber, and a bed of soft dry sponges, and we spent the night there.

  Next morning we went on to brace the Gorgon. The others had to be blindfolded, and I used the mirror, because the stoning spell could not reflect from it, while the rest of her did. This was special magic called polarization.

  The Gorgon turned out to be as lovely as her sister. She was fully human in the sense that she had no fish tail, but her hair consisted of little serpents. It was surprising how prettily they framed her sweet face. She was also as innocent as the Siren, having no notion of the mischief her magic was doing. All around her island statues of men stood; she thought these were gifts, not realizing that they were what remained of the men themselves.

  I tried to explain this to her, but was handicapped because her loveliness in the mirror distracted me. I wanted to turn and face her directly, and did not dare. "Men must not come here anymore," I said. "They must stay home, with their families."

  "Couldn't just one man come—and stay awhile?" she asked plaintively.

  "I'm afraid not. Men aren't, er, right for you." What a tragedy! Any man would love this lovely woman, if not turned to stone before he had the chance.

  "But I have so much love to give—if only a man would stay! Even a little one. I would cherish him for ever and ever, and make him so happy—"

  The more I talked with her, the worse I was feeling.

  "You must go into exile," I said. "In Mundania your magic will dissipate."

  But she would have none of it. "I can not depart Xanth. I love men, but I love my home more. If this is my only choice, I beg of you to slay me now and end my misery."

  I was appalled. "Slay you? I would not do that! You are the most attractive creature I have ever seen, even through a mirror! In my youth I would have—"

  "Why, you are not old, sir," she protested, and her smile seemed genuine. "You are a handsome man."

  The three blindfolded males squawked, coughed, and choked. That irritated me for some reason. "You flatter me," I said, being flattered. "But I have other business." I knew I had better get on with it quickly, because I was in danger of being smitten by this devastating woman in two respects: my body turned to stone, my heart turned to mush.

  “Of all the men who had come here, you alone have stayed to talk with me," the Gorgon continued passionately. Even the little snakes of her hair looked at me beseechingly in the mirror. "I am so lonely! I beg, of you, stay with me and let me love you always."

  I started to turn my face toward her, charmed by this maidenly appeal, but my companions warned me in time. I demurred, though the idea of being loved by such a woman was becoming increasingly attractive. I had been alone too long. "Gorgon, if I were to look at you directly—"

  "Come, close your eyes if you must," she said urgently, not yet comprehending the danger she represented to men. "Kiss me. Let me show you how much love I have for you. Your least word is my command, if you will only stay!"

  Oh, my, what temptation! Suddenly I realized how intense my own loneliness had become, these eight years since my fourth wife had departed for Mundania. (Fourth wife? Then why could I remember only three?) Young women had approached me in this time, but I knew it was my power as a Magician that appealed to them, not my body, which was wizened and gnomish, or my personality, which was grumpy. Certainly not for my mountain of used socks! So how could I trust their motives? But the Gorgon knew nothing of my background. She asked only my presence.

  "My dear, I think not," I said with real regret. “Such a course would have its rewards—I hardly deny it!—and I might normally be inclined to dally wi
th you a day or three, though love be blindfolded. But only a Magician could safely associate with you, and—"

  "Then dally a day or three!" she exclaimed, her bosom (containing two breasts, I was sure) heaving in a way that made me feel forty years younger. "Be blindfolded! I know no Magician would have interest in me, but even such a Magician could not be more wonderful than you, sir!"

  She really didn't know! She was trying to flatter me one way, and succeeding in another. "How old are you, Gorgon?" I asked, wickedly tempted.

  "I am eighteen! I am old enough!"

  And I was a hundred and ten. What was I thinking of? This was the sort of game Metria liked to play with men. That healing elixir had preserved me remarkably, but how could I think of any dalliance with this virtual child? "I am too old," I said with deep regret. "Not all your flattery can change what I know to be true.”

  Her lovely face clouded over in the mirror. The snakes hung limply down as if completely suppressed. Tears overflowed her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. "Oh, sir, I beg of you—"

  I sighed, yielding to an impulse I might later regret. "Perhaps, after my present quest is over, if you haven't changed your mind, if you would care to visit at my castle—"

  "Yes, yes!" she cried eagerly. "Where is your castle?"

  "Just ask for Humfrey. Someone will direct you. But you will have to wear a veil—no, even that would not suffice, for it is your eyes that—"

  "Do not cover my eyes!" she protested. "I must see!"

  "Let me consult." I rummaged through my collection of spells. I found one that might do the job: invisible makeup. "This is not ideal, but it will have to do. Hold this vial before your face and open it." I held it over my shoulder.

  She did so. There was a pop as the cork came out, and then the hiss of the expanding vapor. It shrouded her face and disappeared—and her face went with it. There simply wasn't anything showing where it had been.

  I lowered my mirror and turned to her. "But you said—" she protested, not realizing how she had changed.

  I held the mirror up, facing her. She took it and held it up, gazing at her reflection. She made a little gasp.

  Then she returned the mirror and stepped into me. She kissed me. How sweet it was! Her face was there, touchable, just not seeable.

  "How long I have longed to do that, with someone," she murmured. "How I thank you, marvelous man!"

  Then she stepped away, and I recovered as much of my equilibrium as was feasible. "Companions, you may now remove your blindfolds," I said. "The Gorgon has been nullified." That was a highly misleading statement; she had a greater effect on me than ever now.

  The others cleared their blindfolds and gazed at the Gorgon for the first time. They were obviously impressed. I felt a certain suppressed pride.

  I used my magic mirror to contact Castle Roogna and report on progress. Queen Iris answered, using her power of illusion to make her voice heard directly from the mirror. Her talent had certainly matured, but she showed scant appreciation for the training I had given her in her girlhood. That was the problem with power: it corrupted.

  The Gorgon, hearing the Queen call me Good Magician, finally caught on to my status. It dampened her ardor not half a whit. She flung her arms around me and planted another invisible kiss on my mouth. Her hair-serpents, caught by surprise, hissed and snapped at my ear lobes. Fortunately they were too small to do much harm, and they weren't poisonous.

  We made our way back to the Magic Dust Village and assured the women that no more men would be taken. Unfortunately I lacked the power to revert the stone men to life. The Gorgon might not be a full Sorceress, but her power was strong enough to withstand any spell I knew. That, perhaps, was part of her appeal. Certainly I remained somewhat distracted, after so unexpectedly encountering so intriguing a creature.

  The ladies provided us with a griffiness as a guide. We were going on through the region of madness, where thick magic dust made things strange. This was the way Crombie's talent pointed. On the way we passed a marvelous region of bugs, and I discovered a new species: a Crayon-Drawing Picture-Winged Beetle. I was thrilled, and made careful note of it.

  Unfortunately, this region of intense magic had mischief for us. A midas fly buzzed us, getting set to land on me. Knowing the danger, I ducked so low I fell off Crombie. The fly was about to land on him instead, when the female griffin knocked him aside and intercepted the fly.

  They touched—and suddenly she was a solid gold statue. She had saved us by sacrificing herself. Crombie was evidently shaken; how was the woman hater to react to a female who had given up her life for him? Her action was surely a considerable enigma to him. Of course she might not have done it had she realized that he was not the griffin he appeared, but I did not see fit to point that out.

  Now we were without our guide, and we all understood the danger of our situation. It was late, so we had to camp for the night. We found the bones of an ancient sphinx, and made camp within their protection. Crombie's talent indicated that this was the safest place for us to be.

  But our travails had hardly begun. Looking for food, Bink brought me something to check. I made an effort to freak out; probably only my age prevented me. "That's Blue Agony fungus!" I exclaimed. "Get rid of it!" For one bite of that would turn a person's whole body blue, and he would melt into a puddle that killed the surrounding vegetation. Yet Crombie's magic had indicated it was the best possible thing to eat. A second check caused him to indicate that it was the worst possible thing to eat, which was more accurate. What was going on?

  After some confusion, we discovered that we were being confused by a chip of what was to become known as reverse-wood, that reversed the magic of the person who touched it. What a deadly effect that could be! I made a note. This variety of magic must have evolved after I did my survey of talents, as I had passed through this region without encountering it before.

  Then, in the night, things became more interesting. The constellations of the sky came to life. Chester got into a duel with a centaur constellation. Soon we were all climbing into the sky—until Grundy brought the reverse-wood and nullified some of the illusion. We were actually climbing a tree! This was certainly the region of madness!

  Seeing our retreat, the constellations came down to the ground to attack us. When we fought them off, they dumped a sky river on us, trying to drown us. This was probably a thunderstorm in real life, but the effect was the same: we were drenched and miserable.

  We were saved in the end, perhaps, by that same reverse-wood, because it caused Grundy Golem to reverse his selfish nature and care about us and help us make our way out. There was a certain irony in that, but we were beyond caring.

  We proceeded on toward Lake Ogre-Chobee, where the curse fiends dwelt. I wanted to save a bit of that reverse-wood, because it could be useful, but when I tried to conjure it into a bottle, it reversed the spell and put me in the bottle instead. The others found that very funny. But after several tries I did manage to secure the wood. Then I investigated the source of the mysterious mounds of dirt that kept popping up near us. These turned out to be the work of squiggles, one of the branches of the great family of voles. The creatures zipped along just under the ground, leaving the dirt behind. Was it spying on us? If so, why? My magic mirror was not providing a clear answer. Perhaps the underground habitat of the creature obscured the image.

  To safely approach the curse fiends, who it seemed were on our route to the source of magic, we had to diminish our number. I conjured Crombie and Grundy and me into a bottle, which Bink and Chester would carry. They would take water-breathing pills I had provided, so as to be able to walk on the bottom of the lake. I was not entirely sanguine about this arrangement, but we had to chance it.

  Thus we found ourselves in a nicely carpeted chamber. The outside world seemed far removed. "Say, we're traveling in style!" Grundy remarked.

  The griffin squawked. "Well, you'd think so if you were in manform, beak-brain!" the golem retorted, understanding Cr
ombie perfectly.

  I liked the magic mirror, which I had similarly shrunk. It showed what was happening outside the bottle better than the glass wall did, because the mirror lacked distortion and was not confined to Bink's pocket.

  Bink and Chester walked under the lake and encountered the curse fiends. Wouldn't you know it: they managed to aggravate the fiends and had to plunge into the central whirlpool which traversed the underwater city. The bottle we were in-was flung free and went rushing out of control in the fierce current. We were in for it now!

  It was a horrendous ride. I was trying to watch the outside realm in the mirror so that I could keep track of where we were, assuming we survived. But the violence of the water made our chamber whirl around dozens of times. It banged into a wall or stone, and I went banging into the floor of our chamber. The mirror flew from my hand and shattered against the wall.

  Then the motion ceased. I picked myself up, and Grundy and Crombie picked themselves up. We were shaken but not hurt. It could have been another story, had the bottle we were in smashed. As it was, the furniture was scattered and overturned, and part of the carpet had been wrenched askew.

  "Next time, let's not let idiots carry us," Grundy said, and the griffin squawked agreement. I would have been hard put to disagree.

  I picked up the largest fragment of the mirror. It remained operative; the magic was in the glass, not the shape or frame. I held it carefully. It remained oriented on Bink.

  Bink was at this moment rousing from his strewn condition at the edge of the lake our bottle floated in. He dragged himself up, and found Chester Centaur. He picked up a shard of glass—and it was from the magic mirror! It must have flown right out from the bottle, though the bottle remained sealed. I wasn't sure exactly how that was possible; I would have to investigate the phenomenon when I had leisure.