Uland thrust his head forward. The horn plunged through my heart.
Then it was out—and I stood there, feeling nothing. Except a burgeoning dose of panic. But it was too late for that. I was done for so fast I had never felt it.
"Uh—" I said, even more awkwardly than before. I made ready to collapse with whatever dignity I could muster.
"You're not hurt," MareAnn said.
I stared down at myself. There was no wound, no blood. "But-"
"You spoke the truth," MareAnn said. "If you had lied, that horn would have felt solid to you. Only truth blunts it."
Now I understood. Weak-kneed, I resolved never to depart from the truth in anything.
"Get on Uland," MareAnn said. "He says it isn't far. We'll wait here."
"But I don't know how!" There was another truth.
She hobbled over. "Bend your leg at the knee."
I stood beside the unicorn and bent my left leg, as she had. She took hold of it. "Now throw your right leg over as I heave."
She heaved, and I lifted my right leg up and over the back of the unicorn. Suddenly I was up there, precariously perched. Her hold had been like a ladder, lifting me up. Now I understood how she had mounted with my help. It wasn't magic, but it was so neat a trick that it might as well have been. "Uh, thanks," I said.
"You're welcome," she said, and smiled up at me.
I felt dizzy. She was so lovely when she did that!
Then Uland was moving. Hastily I grabbed a handful of his mane and hung on. That seemed to be what was required.
I was riding, to my amazement. The unicorn was running like the wind, and this was no cliché; his feet seemed to be striking on air, and he was going right through the forest as the wind does; I saw leaves flutter with our passage. Yet it was perfectly smooth on his back; I might as well have been on a boat on a fairly calm lake.
My fear of riding was quickly becoming pleasure. But I suspected that it would not be like this on a less magical animal. "This is fun, thank you," I said.
Uland wiggled an ear. That meant yes. I wasn't guessing; I found that I really did understand his signals, now that I was riding him. That was surely magic. I had not realized before just how wonderful unicorns were.
Soon we came to a small pond in another glade. It did not look special, but the foliage near it was quite healthy.
Uland stopped, and I dismounted by putting my right leg back over and sliding off on my stomach. MareAnn had done it more elegantly on her backside. Well, I was a beginner, and she had a better backside than I did.
I fished two bottles from my pack, the only ones available. I was sorry they weren't larger; this water would be invaluable. But I would not use it to trade anyway; all I needed was enough for MareAnn and Horntense.
I knelt to dip the first. The bank under my knee gave way, and I tumbled face-first into the pond. The bottles flew from my hand. Realizing what this would mean, I made a desperate grab in air and caught one before I submerged.
The spring was deep. I sank down, down, taking in a mouthful inadvertently. Then I remembered to try to swim, and paddled my way back up.
My head broke the surface, and I choked and gasped. But I had the bottle, and it was full. I pulled myself out, dripping, then fished for the stopper.
My eye fell on Uland. He was shaking with equine laughter. I had to laugh too. I must have looked pretty foolish. I still did, really, for my clothing was dripping and my hair was matted across my face. How clumsy could a gnome like me get?
I put the sealed bottle into my wet knapsack. Then I approached the unicorn. He was still too tall for me to mount from the ground, and MareAnn wasn't here to boost me with her nice little hands. "Maybe if you moved next to a rock," I suggested.
He hooked his nose in the signal for jump.
I shrugged. Anything was worth a try. I jumped— and to my amazement sailed right up and onto his back.
How had that happened? I had never before been able to jump like that! My small gnarled legs were only good enough for modest performance. Yet this time they had responded like those of an athlete, and my coordination had been perfect.
Uland was racing like the wind again. By the time I stopped being bemused, we were back at the path where MareAnn and Horntense waited.
I slid down, this time doing it expertly. “I have it!” I said.
"You're all wet!" she exclaimed.
"I fell in," I said, abashed.
"You fell into the healing spring? You must be supremely healthy now!"
And that was it! I had been completely doused in the elixir, even swallowing a mouthful. I was healthy all over. My muscles were working at their full potential. I realized now that I could also see far more acutely than before and hear much better. My whole body bristled with sheer fitness. So leaps which had been impossible were now easy. Uland had known.
I brought out the bottle. "No, save it," MareAnn said. "Just give me your shirt."
I got out of my knapsack and shirt. She took the shirt and wrung it out over her extended leg. A few drops fell on the ankle. "Oh, it's working!" she exclaimed. Then, standing firmly on both feet, she turned to Horntense. She wrung out some more elixir on the unicorn's leg. Immediately Horntense put down the leg, standing without pain.
MareAnn returned the shirt to me. "Thank you so much, Humfrey," she said. "We really appreciate it." Then she kissed me.
I was too stunned even to blush. I felt as if I were floating. An entire new view of girls was dawning on my limited outlook.
"Now let's go on to the river," she said. "I'll ride Horntense; you ride Uland."
Numbly, I held her leg so she could mount. Then I went and jumped onto the stallion. Then we were at the river. I was still trying to realize how I felt from that kiss.
MareAnn jumped down and started stripping off her clothes. "But—" I started. My senses were in perfect health, but my mind was boggling.
She turned to face me, her shirt off. "We have come to know each other well enough in a short time. And we are not going to do anything lascivious. We never have, and we won't now. So it's all right; we can wash together.”
"We—not—?" I said, finding no straw to grasp.
"Because the unicorns would go."
Unicorns. Something fell into place. The reason most people could not approach unicorns was that only childlike innocence was acceptable. I was old enough to have the first hint of a notion of what the Adult Conspiracy was concealing, but I had never had occasion to explore the matter. Until I did, I would be able to approach unicorns. That was the way of their kind and ours.
I dismounted and removed my clothing. MareAnn and I swam together in the cool clear river, as naked and innocent as a faun and nymph. But my ungrateful background mind wished it could have been otherwise. MareAnn had been shapely but dirty because of her fall; now she was shapely and clean, and to my eye lovely.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asked naively.
"I never saw anyone so beautiful," I said before I thought.
It was her turn to blush. "No one ever said that to me before. Thank you, Humfrey."
I realized with a pleasant shock that she was indeed my age. Her body was that of a grown woman, while mine was that of a grown gnome, but her experience in life was parallel to mine. It was hard to imagine her being ridiculed for her proportions, but evidently neither had she been praised. She appreciated a sincere compliment just as much as I did. That was a great comfort to know.
Yet I also realized that it was a special type of interest I was finding in her, and that it could in time lead to a good deal more than innocent compliments. But I had the wit to keep that to myself. This wasn't deceit, it was courtesy. And caution.
So we swam, and washed, and then ran around naked while we dried, playing tag and finding fruit and nuts to eat, and it was about as nice an hour as I could remember experiencing. If this was the beginning of the rest of my life, I was well satisfied.
Chapter 4
Surv
ey
Now it was near evening. "We had better find a place to sleep," MareAnn said.
I had planned to clamber into a suitable tree for the night. I realized that more was required now. She would never be mistaken for a gnome, and a tree was hardly her style. Somehow this inconvenience did not bother me. "I saw a house a little farther back. Maybe the person who lives there will let us sleep on the floor."
"We can get some pillows and a blanket," she agreed.
We rode the unicorns, and in a moment the distance which had taken me hours was covered, and the house was before us in its small clearing among the weeds. It was such a perfectly ordinary cabin that now I was uncertain. "Sometimes things aren't what they seem," I said.
"But what else can this be but a house?" she demanded. "Do you think it's going to eat us?"
Shamed by her unconcern, I dismounted, approached the house, and knocked on the door. It opened on its own, revealing a fairly nice interior with a table, a chair, and a bed. There was a pile of blankets on the bed and several pillows. That was all. I still did not quite trust it; that self-opening door, was magic, and too convenient. Tangle trees made their approaches inviting and seemed harmless—until the unwary creature was lured within their grasp. This obviously was not such a tree, but its manner was similar.
"Where is who lives here?" MareAnn asked, coming up behind me. I liked having her do that, acting like a friend, and her friendship was becoming important to me. In fact, my relationship with her was as devious and intriguing as my concern with this house, for different reasons.
"It seems to be empty," I said. "There's no smell of occupancy." For my nose was now healthy, too, and could detect far more than ever before.
"Then it must be just waiting for someone to live in it," she said brightly. "We'll be here only a night, but it's perfect for that." She pushed on past me and went inside.
I was not sanguine about this, but couldn't let her chance it alone, so went in with her. Nothing happened. Apparently this was indeed a house waiting for an occupant. If it belonged to someone, that person should not mind us using it briefly, if we did no damage. But suppose it did not belong to someone? What then was its purpose? I feared that we could not be sure that its purpose coincided with ours.
MareAnn told the unicorns that we wouldn't need them until morning, and they departed. It had to be nice, having such a magic talent. If only I had something similar!
I looked at the bed. "I'll put some pillows on the floor for me," I said.
"Oh, don't be silly! We'll share the bed, of course."
I certainly had no objection. I was gaining a whole other perspective on girls. I was getting to like being bossed. I was discovering that it depended very much on which girl was doing the bossing and how I felt about her. MareAnn was bossy in a pleasant and trusting manner.
So she changed into her nightie, which she had in her purse, which like all such items was magical in its own way. A purse always held more than was possible. I knew enough to avert my gaze so as to avoid seeing her panties, as I had when we washed together in the river. It was all right to see a girl bare, if she didn't mind, but panties were something else. At least, so the Adult Conspiracy indicated. I used my undershorts, because nothing else had dried yet, and we squeezed onto the bed under the blankets.
Then MareAnn had a second thought. "You don't know how to summon the stork, do you?"
"No," I admitted.
"Good. Because that's the prime thing unicorns don't like. I'm in no hurry to learn." She settled back.
I, unfortunately, had my burden of curiosity. I did want to know about the stork, and about everything else in Xanth. But it was very nice lying so close and warm with MareAnn, and if not learning the stork-summoning ritual was the price of that, then I too was in no hurry. For now.
"Tell me about yourself," she said.
I was surprised. "But don't you want to sleep? Aren't you tired?"
"Yes, of course. But I like to know something about the person I sleep with."
That seemed reasonable. So I told her what little there was to know about my dull life, and how I hoped to learn everything there was to know about Xanth, someday, maybe, if I was lucky.
The odd thing was, she actually seemed interested. "I think that's very commendable, Humfrey. I'm sure you will learn more about everything than anybody else does." She snuggled against me, relaxing. She was marvelously soft and warm and nice to be next to.
"And—is it all right to learn something about you?" I asked hesitantly.
She laughed. "Why, of course, Humfrey, if you're interested. It's not much. I ran away from home."
"But you seem like such a nice girl!"
"I am a nice girl! That's my problem. My father said I was getting pretty grown up for my age, and it was time for me to get married and learn about the stork. He was going to marry me to the village bell maker. But I didn't like the man, because his bells make people stupid.”
"Make them stupid?" I asked, feeling that way myself.
"Yes, real dumbbells. Maybe they just make folk unable to speak; I forget. Either way, I wasn't interested. And if I had learned about the stork from him, I would have lost my friends the unicorns. Of course I can summon other equines too, but the unicorns are my favorites. So I ran away."
I was glad she had, now.
"Thank you, Humfrey," she said.
"But I didn't say anything!" I protested.
"Yes, you did. You distinctly twitched your ear. I felt it against my cheek."
I had not realized that I was now using the language of the equines. It must have come from my association with the unicorns and my improved health after my dunking in the healing spring. That could have given me better control of my ears.
"Yes, I'm sure that's it," she said, kissing the side of my head in the manner she might kiss a unicorn.
Magic could be wonderful.
But as the darkness became complete, something alarming happened. The house abruptly tilted.
"Eeeeek!" MareAnn cried in perfectly feminine fashion, grabbing onto me.
My first impulse was to leap out of bed and run outside. But I couldn't, because MareAnn was clutching me closely. So I got hold of the edge of the bed instead, in that manner anchoring us both. My first instinct had been wrong, anyway; how could I have deserted the girl beside me?
The floor tilted back, but that was not the end of it.
The whole house was rising! I saw the downward movement of trees in the moonlight beyond the window. It was as if a giant were picking up the whole house.
Then things steadied. "I'd better check," I whispered, drawing myself free of her clutch. I loved the close contact, but a deep suspicion was growing in me.
"You're so brave!" she whispered back.
Brave? Not that I knew of! I just was doing what I had to do. I scrambled away from bed and blankets and crossed the floor to the window. As I did, the house began to rock again, almost throwing me off my feet. I lunged to the window and caught hold of the sill, while MareAnn screamed from the bed.
I peered out. Sure enough, the house was in the air. But it was not floating or being carried by a giant. In the dusky deep shadows below I made out an enormous muscular thigh growing out-of the side of the house. I didn't need to see more; I knew that this was the upper part of a great powerful leg and that it was a monstrous bird's leg with giant claws on the foot. I had heard of this type of thing but never expected to see it, let alone be in it.
The house paused momentarily. I took advantage of the moment to hurl myself back across the loom to the bed. The bed, table, and chair were all firmly anchored to the floor; now I understood why.
"What did you see?" MareAnn asked, eagerly grabbing onto me again.
"Chicken legs," I said.
"What?"
"The house has grown chicken legs and is running around. It's a werehouse. It changes its nature at night."
"You mean like a werewolf?"
"Yes, except that it
doesn't eat people. It just runs around. It won't hurt us, as long as we hang on."
"But why? I mean, what does it do!"
"It just runs around, and in the morning it will settle down in a new place. Maybe it gets its kicks from giving rides to folk like us." I hoped; I wasn't sure that it was quite as innocent as that, but since I didn't know otherwise it was pointless to alarm her.
The house began moving again. Now we could feel the pulse as the powerful legs walked. The whole house shook as each foot struck the ground. We were lucky that our knapsacks were firmly jammed under the bed, so that they didn't slide around.
"I'm getting motion sick," MareAnn said bleakly.
"Um, I wouldn't recommend that," I said. "I'm not sure the house would like having, uh, you know on its floor.”
"I'll stifle it," she agreed hastily.
We clung to each other and the bed. There was nothing else to do, as the werehouse charged on through the night. Sometimes it paused to scratch at the ground; sometimes it leaped and landed jarringly. Mostly it just kept going.
"If this were anywhere else, I'd really enjoy spending a night like this with you in my arms," I said at one point.
"I wonder if stork-summoning can be worse than this?" she mused.
"I hope not!" Then we laughed, somewhat sickly.
I don't know how much sleep either of us got, but we did succeed in not getting sick. In the morning the house settled down, and we made haste to get out of it, not even dressing. At least it had not harmed us; I had been right to avoid alarming MareAnn with my fell suspicion. We carried our knapsacks and clothes bundled in our arms.
We found ourselves in the middle of an unfamiliar village. The folk were just getting up and out. They stared at us. Evidently they hadn't seen the house settle into place, but they saw us clearly enough, in underpants and nightie and generally disheveled. The unicorns were not present; they probably had no idea where the house had gone. Neither did we.
"Uh, where is this?" I inquired in my typically bright fashion.
"This is the South Village," the nearest man said. "How did you get your house built so quickly? It wasn't here last night. And aren't you two rather young to be indulging in that sort of sport? Are you sure you belong to the Adult Conspiracy?''