Knot Gneiss (2 page)

“You have solved my problem,” Freja said. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

“No need,” Wenda said. “I like helping people.”

“Now I can go home. It’s such a relief!”

“I am glad.” And she was.

Freja departed, and Wenda focused on the bicycle. She mounted, put her feet on the petals, and pushed down. There was a burst of flowery scent and the bike moved forward. She was on her way.

After that it was routine. She rode rapidly, and by nightfall was near the castle. She pulled into a weigh station, weighed in, and foraged for a dietary pie. The prince might love her flesh, but she knew better than to get too much of it.

In the morning she weighed out and resumed her journey. Soon she saw the highest turrets of the Good Magician’s Castle. She hoped she would be able to navigate the challenges soon so as to get her Answer. Of course then there would be the nuisance of the year’s service. She hoped there would be an alternative service that would take less time, because she wasn’t sure how the prince would react to a year’s separation. He might even run out of food.

She parked the bike beside the path and walked the last bit of distance to the castle. The Good Magician would be expecting her, of course. Somehow he always saw querents coming, and prepared three relevant Challenges to discourage those who weren’t really serious.

Sure enough, there was a robot barring her way. On his chest was printed the word
DENT
.

She sought to pass by him, but he grabbed her and enfolded her in a metal embrace, seeking to kiss her with his faceplate. What was this? A robot getting fresh with a live girl? That did not compute. Then she caught on. “Robot Dent,” she said. “R Dent for short. Yew’re ardent.”

“Oh, clang!” he swore. “You calculated the pun.”

“Well, one learns to dew that, in Xanth,” she said. “It’s a matter of survival.”

He let her go, but still barred her way. Behind him was a pattern of pictures. Now his chest panel said
CADE
.

“That wood bee Robot Cade,” she said. “Arcade. Does that relate to my challenge?”

But already it was changing. Now it said
TILLERY
, and there was the sound of big guns firing in the background.

“Artillery,” she said. “But I’m knot sure what relevance this has.”

It changed again. Now it said
SENIC
, and the robot was looking sickly.

“Arsenic,” she said. “Look, we can dew this indefinitely. R ME, R RAY, R REST, R SON, R TERY, R TICKLE, R TIST—what’s the point?”

The robot did not reply, except to put another word on:
DOR
. He advanced on her with ardor.

“I think yew have a screw loose,” Wenda said, retreating. “But I dew knot see a gremlin to fix it.” In fact all she saw was a bale of old hay. What good would that do her?

Then a bulb flashed over her head. She stepped to the bale, pulled out a wisp of hay, whirled, and jammed it into the robot’s front grille. “How hot does that make yew, lover?”

It worked. The robot heated. A wisp of smoke issued from his grille. Then he started running crazily in a circle.

Wenda moved on by. She had used the hay to convert the machine’s hay fever and make it go haywire. That was the solution to the Challenge, rather than guessing endless pun identities. Sometimes it was necessary to get out of a particular rut of puns, and find now ones that worked better.

She walked on down the path toward the castle. One down; two to go.

The path led to a playground filled with children. There were swings and slides and seesaws, but the children weren’t using them. Instead they were taunting one another. That made Wenda wince. She loved children, but she preferred them to be well behaved.

“I think, I think, you stink, you stink!” a girl cried at a boy.

“You stink worse!” the boy retorted.

Wenda tried to pass through the playground, but the crowded children blocked her. She realized that this was not accidental; it was a Challenge. She had to get past without making a child cry—which was surely not possible without finding a way to get them to stand aside. She had no experience with children, and was sure she would not be good with them. Not until she had some of her own, and learned the ropes. Which made this a nasty Challenge for her.

Not that these were normal children. Wenda saw that the boys were actually composites, formed of masses of slugs, snails, and puppy dogs’ tails, while the girls were all sugar and spice and all things nice. No wonder they weren’t getting along!

She gazed around the playground. Could she get them interested in the normal diversions? If only to make the children jealous of them?

She went to the nearest swing and sat on it. It was standard hemp for the ropes and beechwood for the seat, sandy like a beach. She pumped her legs and started swinging.

No child noticed.

She worked her way higher. This swing was subtly different from the one at the castle. It did not involve her emotionally in the same way. It was just a swing, with no magic. No wonder the children weren’t interested.

Totally ignored, she gave up on that. She let the swing subside, got off, and tried a slide. It was nice and tall. “Wheee!” she exclaimed with a full three E’s as she slid down. But she wasn’t persuading even herself, let alone the busy children.

She gave it one more try. There was a sidewalk with a hopscotch diagram chalked on it. She sniffed a scotch, verifying that it was fake; they would not really let children use such an adult drink. But the diagram was authentic.

She hopped on it, following the pattern. No girl seemed to notice. They were all still too busy exchanging insults with the boys. Of course that was because boys and girls interested one another, but didn’t know how to relate, so they argued instead. That way they could safely interact.

There had to be some other way. Wenda looked around, but saw nothing but the children, the vacant equipment, and a few spaced trees. They lacked leaves; this was evidently winter, here, if not in the rest of Xanth. One tree had a mass of green in its branches.

Green. That would be mistletoe. That was a forest plant, and she understood it well. And it just might be the key to resolving this Challenge—if the dreaded Adult Conspiracy to Keep Interesting Things from Children didn’t intervene. She wasn’t sure whether it applied; she would just have to proceed and hope for the best.

She walked to the mistletoe tree and shinnied up its trunk. She wasn’t concerned about any children looking up her skirt; they wouldn’t think to do it, even if they were paying attention, which they weren’t.

She climbed to the mistletoe, which consisted of clusters of toes on green stalks. She grabbed a handful, then shinnied back down the tree.

Back on the ground she set the stalks carefully in the ground, the toes pointed at the children. “Three, two, one, ignition,” she said.

The stalks jetted fire, rocketing upward at an angle. They arced to the crowded children, then exploded. Toes went flying like shrapnel, bouncing off the children.

There were screams of surprise, then of horror. Caught by the magic, the boys and girls came together, hugged, and kissed. “Ooo, ugh!” they exclaimed, disgusted. It was clear that of all the things they might ever want to do, this was bouncing at the bottom of the last, or below.

During their distraction, Wenda quietly made her way past them and out the far gate. She had found her way past the second Challenge. But she was sorry she had not been able to interact more positively with the children.

“Two down,” she murmured with satisfaction.

The path entered a kind of corral with an unpleasant smell. Wenda recognized it immediately, because it was of a forest creature: skunk. But she didn’t see any such creature there. There was only a central pole. How did that relate?

Then she caught on. It was another pun. “Pole Cat!”

Sure enough, the pole shortened and thickened into an odoriferous creature. But it was a lovely cat. This was surely a Challenge, but of what nature?

She stopped before the cat. “Hello,” she said in mew talk. She knew all the forest dialects, of course. “Are yew my next Challenge?”

“No,” the cat replied in the same language. “
I
am the Challenge, not a forest tree.”

Wenda took stock. The cat had evidently mistaken her word. It was best simply to explain. “I am a forest creature, or I was before I married Prince Charming. I speak the forest way; I can knot help it, regardless of the dialect. I said Why Oh Yew, yew. Yew heard a tree. I wood speak the other way if I could, but I can knot.”

The cat considered. “Now I understand. I apologize for my confusion. Let’s introduce ourselves. I am Pollyanna Polecat, Polly for short, and my talent is making others stink. That’s why I’m not popular.”

“I am Wenda Woodwife. Or at least I was before I married and got real.”

“Ah, that’s why you have a backside.”

“Yes. I filled out behind when I won the love of a real man, Prince Charming. I dew knot have a talent, being of magical origin myself.”

“I beg to differ,” Polly mewed. “You surely have a talent, or are developing one, from the time you got real. That’s how it works.”

“Oh, I dew knot think so. I wood have noticed.”

“Not necessarily. You must have a good one, at least potentially. The Good Magician has serious plans for you. He wants you to win through and ask your Question.”

“He does?” Wenda asked, amazed. “I am just a regular girl now, with a simple question. I will probably have to serve as a scullery maid for a year.”

Polly shook her head. “I doubt it. But you will surely find out for yourself.”

“I suppose so,” Wenda agreed. “But yew say yew are the Challenge. How is that?”

“My talent. I hate it. It ruins my social life. I came to ask the Good Magician how to fix it, but he wouldn’t answer.”

“He wood knot answer?” Wenda asked, surprised.

“He said he couldn’t use a smelly cat. Instead he made me a deal: serve for a single Challenge, where I might get my Answer without having to serve any more time. So naturally I agreed. And here I am.”

“I dew knot understand.”

“Just as your special words are inherent, so is my talent. The moment I get frightened or upset, I stink my companion. It’s a reflex. It makes it impossible to keep companions. Find me a way to nullify it, so I can maybe find me a tomcat who can stand me, and yowl happily ever after. That is your Challenge.”

“That wood bee easy. Yew can use reverse wood to convert the stink to perfume.”

Polly glanced at her. “There is something odd about the way you said that.”

Wenda smiled. “Sometimes when I say ‘wood’ it really is wood. I always say ‘wood.’”

“Oh. Yes. That’s it. But I tried reverse wood. It doesn’t work.”

“It does knot work? But it reverses anything.”

“It reverses in different ways. If I’m in cat form, it reverses me to pole form. If I’m in pole form, it makes me be cat form. In fact it keeps switching me back and forth. So I can’t use it.”

“Oh, I see. I never had that problem. Let me think.” Wenda pondered. How could she get reverse wood to reverse the way it was needed? “There are different varieties of reverse wood. Maybee yew need to try others, until yew find one that reverses the right way.”

“I’ve tried them all. None were right.”

Wenda looked around. There in the corner of the corral was a little pile of wood chips. Reverse wood—she could instantly identify any kind of wood. The only reason for it to be here was because it was the answer. She just had to discover
how
it was the answer.

She went to pick up a chip. She had no concern about doing so because it was, after all, wood, and she could handle wood of any type. It simply didn’t affect her.

She sorted through the pile, sensing the nature of the chips. Each was from a different tree, with its own flavor. One was subtly dissimilar. “I think yew missed this one,” she said. “Try it now.”

“It won’t work,” Polly said dispiritedly. But she took the chip in her mouth, holding it in her cheek.

“Now stink me.”

“But you won’t like that. It will take hours for it to wear off.”

“Dew it anyway.”

So Polly let fly with a stink. It wasn’t a physical thing, but a feeling. She was supposed to feel stinky.

She didn’t. She felt perfumed.

Polly sniffed. “You smell good!”

“Yes. Yew are reversed.”

“But how—?”

“I found the different chip. That’s all it took.”

“But I tried all of them! None worked.”

Wenda shrugged. “This one works. Now yew can go court a bold tom.”

“Yes, I can!” Polly exclaimed. “Thank you, thank you! You have saved me and won the Challenge.”

“Yew are welcome.” Wenda was pleased, though she did not think she had done much. Wood was her medium; sorting chips had been almost too easy. Maybe the Good Magician really did want her to win through. But why? What possible mission could he have in mind for her, that someone else couldn’t do better?

She exited the corral. Three down.

She had reached the moat, and the drawbridge leading to the castle. There stood Wira, the Good Magician’s favored daughter-in-law. “Welcome back, Wenda,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you.” That was literal, because though Wira had been blind most of her life, now she could see.

“Yew just like girls with W names,” Wenda said, smiling.

“That must be it,” Wira agreed. “This way, please; the Good Magician is expecting you.”

Obviously true. “May I ask a question?” Wenda asked as they walked across the bridge.

“About the relevance of the Challenges? Of course.”

“That robot with the printed pun names—”

“For this mission you need to be inventive. The Good Magician wasn’t sure how well you could think outside the box, because for most of your existence you lacked a brain.”

“My head was hollow,” Wenda agreed without annoyance.

“So it seemed that you just had to guess the puns in the names, but actually you needed to see beyond that. To change the rules, as it were. You did.”

“I did,” Wenda agreed. She had been half afraid she had cheated. “And the quarreling children?”