The Color Of Her Panties (15 page)

“I can't pronounce the word,” Mela said.  “I can't even think it properly, when I try to.  It means the way I made the bells ring.”

“Tin-can-ambulate?” Okra asked.

“Close enough,” Mela decided, going for another change.

The next panty was hand-knitted pink, with matching stockings of pale rose hue, as gossamer as a spider's web on a rose bush.  They made her legs feel impossibly slender and smooth.  They seemed almost as nice as a tail.

“I always wondered why pink panties are supposed to be so magically wonderful,” Ida said.  “Now I know.”

“Those are so-so-”

“Only a man could find the word,” Metria said.

“A man?” Ida asked.  “Why?”

“Because only a man would say that panties are not the best thing in Xanth, just next to it.”

“I don't understand.”

“That's because you are a nice girl.  I, of course, understand all too well.”

“Would this snare me a husband?” Mela asked, gazing at her slick bottom in the mirrors.  Ida was right:  the effect was just so.  She twitched a muscle and watched the panty surface flex fascinatingly.

“I'm not sure.  I don't think any man has seen those. No men are allowed in here, of course.  They would totally freak out.”

Mela decided to keep looking.  The next panty was country style, with creamy cool white cotton gauze with saucy white linen rosettes and garters.

“Garters?” Okra asked.  “What are they for?”

Metria looked at the little snakes.  “They are to hold up stockings.

They bite down onto them, and then the stockings can't fall.  Probably the Gorgon uses them, since she already has snakes on her head.  But I fear it might be awkward feeding the snakes, to keep them healthy.”

Mela agreed.  This was a nice panty, but she wanted nothing in it except herself She went for the next.

This was another country-style effort.  Stone-washed, water-washed bonjour blue cotton denim, with an easy comfort button on the back.

Serviceable, but Mela was becoming jaded.

So she tried on a jade panty.  It was a deep blue-green with glowing waves which rippled when she moved, reminding her so strongly of the sea that a drop of seawater leaked from her eye.  How she missed the deep salt ocean!

She couldn't wear this, wonderful as it was, because it would make her forget all else in her longing to go home.

She couldn't go home until she had found a prince to take home with her.

“This is special,” Metria said as she brought the next panty.

Mela donned it.  It was made of milk pods interspersed with stripes of mint, peach, and peppermint.  It was nice enough, but somewhat heavy.

“How is it special?” she inquired as she stepped out to model it.

“It's edible,” the demoness explained.  “If you get lost in the woods with no pie trees in sight, you can eat your panty.  Or if you nab your man, and he gets hungry-”

“I think I'll try another,” Mela decided.  It was an intriguing notion, but she didn't want to risk getting eaten by some ardent fool who didn't know where to stop.

The next was a colorful contrast.  It was a rainbow moon panty, in several variants, with colors of azure, beach sand, clay, heather, and other.  That last color was really special, but she feared it would call so much attention to itself that she herself would be neglected.  That did not seem to be the best strategy.  A potential husband might decide to marry the panty instead of the merwoman.

Then there was a gossamer silk Bluebeard's blue mist panty, shot through with shimmering silver threads among the gold, sporting sparkling green peridots in pairs of dots all over.  But there was some kind of association with the notion of Bluebeard that she didn't quite like.

And assorted hot-pants panties.  But the day was already warm enough, and these were threatening to make her break out in an unladylike sweat.

Indeed, steam was rising from them before she managed to get them off.

There was a feather panty to tickle her fancy.  Unfortunately the feathers tickled more than that.  She didn't want to go into a giggling fit the moment a man came near.

There was a Queen Anne's lace panty, with exquisite white lace sporting milkweed flower trim with seed pearl centers.  The center panel shimmered with a faintly greenish glow from green witch stitchery.  There was a spellbinding black lace panty, the lace embroidered with gold thread “rack and runes.” The matching lace net stockings had golden zodiac clocks.  But who wanted to keep time?

The next was a timepiece of another kind:  it was fashioned from sprigs of thyme.  “Part of you will never grow old, in this,” Metria said.

“But what about the rest of me?” For it occurred to Mela that a man just might want to look at the rest of her, too.  In fact, she rather hoped he would.

Next was a knot-so-fast panty made of knotted macramé lace, designed to tease the life out of any male lucky enough to catch a glimpse.  And a panty to wear up a gum tree:  trimmed with a pocketful of gum drops.  But she worried about the drops; she might land too hard, and get gummed up in an exceedingly awkward manner.

There were several scented panties; when she modeled them there was the smell of rose, lavender, heliotrope, and jasmine for evening use.  And a cowgirl panty, trimmed with lotsa moolah.  And an almost transparent panty, shot through with radiant metallic copper and platinum threads.

Now this was tempting, because in shadow it would be practically invisible.  She could qualify as wearing it without seeming to.  Still, if she was going to wear anything, she might as well show it off.

“This, then,” the demoness said, handing her something else.  “It is a violet d'amore-elixir of love-panty.”

It was black velvet embroidered with silver spiderwebs shimmering with “dew”:  tiny diamonds sewn with translucent thread.  Ida ooohd and Okra aaahd when they saw that.

But Mela still wasn't quite satisfied.  None of these seemed to be quite exactly precisely devastatingly her.  The demoness frowned, then brought out some truly fancy stuff.

There was the gold coast gold lace panty, trimmed with long chains of tinkling goldfish.  When Mela walked or swayed there was gentle music.

And the royal midnight blue panty, with a small silver moon complete with tiny moon moths and shining silver stars woven in.  As she walked, the stars progressed across the flexing heaven, and the moon waxed and waned mysteriously.  That almost satisfied her, but she was concerned about wearing it in daylight.  The stars might fall out in the heat of the sun.

She tried a love lace panty, with cotton gauze trimmed with silver filigree fringe studded with heart-shaped amethysts and tiny see shells.

And another hot panty, gold lams fire opals on scarlet lace, and spectacularly long floating panels of flame-colored chiffon.  Also a metallic mail panty, proof against any attack, trimmed with horrific golden goblin teeth.  But she was afraid it would also be proof against the right male.

There was a panty with plain background, embroidered with the words THE ONE I LOVE IS UNTRUE-BEWARE SHE WHO DANCES WITH DEMONS.  But she was afraid it might give the one she loved a bad idea, once she found someone to love.

Then there was an ethereal panty:  blue green silk, foaming white lace shimmering with pearls, with a faint clinging scent of sea lilies.  That very nearly satisfied her, but again she knew that she could not afford to think of the sea too much, lest she lose her stamina and give up on her quest.  So that, too, she reluctantly doffed.

There was a pause.  She looked up.  Why hadn't Metria brought her the next panty?

“You have tried them all,” the demoness said, amazed.

“We have been here all day.  I hardly noticed.”

Tried them all?  Mela had somehow thought the parade of panties would go on forever.  She, too, had not been aware of the time passing.  It had been such a blissful experience!  But it was all too true; the pantry was darkening.

But now she had to choose from among the myriad she had modeled.  Which one?  Still she could not make up her mind.  They were all so pretty!

Yet no single panty had been just purely totally utterly right.

“Aren't there any more?” she inquired plaintively.

Ida and Okra got up and looked through the hanging panties.  “There must be just one more,” Ida said.  “There must be one that's completely right for you.”

“Must be,” Okra agreed.

Metria sighed.  “Very well.  I will distill again.”

“You will what again?” Mela asked.

“Condense, digest, summarize, refine, search pattern“

“Seek?”

“Whatever.” The demoness disappeared crossly among the panties.

I think I found one!” Ida cried.  She hurried forward, carrying a bit of cloth.  “It had fallen down behind another.

Mela took it.  It was a dust-covered mass, hardly promising.  But she shook it out and took it into the changing chamber.  It was comfortable, but lacked any spangles or embroidery.  It was just an ordinary panty.

She stepped out and did her little walk and turn.

“ooooh,” Ida exclaimed.  “That's perfect!”

“Yes, it is,” Okra agreed.

“This little nothing?” Mela asked.  She suspected that they just wanted her to take it so that they could get out of here.  But she looked in the mirrors.

The mirrors made their region brighter.  Now Mela saw the full color of the panty.  It was a crossbarred pattern, with many hues cunningly interwoven.

“Why that's skirl!” Metria exclaimed.

“That's what?” Mela asked, peering at her full bottom contained in the panty.

“Bagpipe, highland, blanket, Scotch tape, kill-”

“Skirt?” Okra asked.

“Whatever,” Metria agreed crossly.  Then she uncrossed.  “No, wait, that's not it.  Cloth, material, crisscross, distinctive, scarf, tartan-”

“Plaid!” Ida said.

“Urn,” the demoness agreed, recrossing.

Plaid!  Mela hadn't thought of that, but she did like it.

She turned around again, watching herself.  The plaid flexed and shifted aspects most gracefully.  The more she saw of it, the better she liked it.  It was conservative without being dull, and its detail was interesting.

Still, she wasn't sure it was perfect for her.  Maybe she would be better off in the one with the moon and stars.

Or maybe there was one with the sun and blue sky, that would dazzle anyone who gazed directly at it.  That would serve the gazer right!

She started toward the changing chamber.  “What color is plaid?” Okra asked.

“Why, it's-” Ida started.  “That is-”

“It's not exactly a color, it's a pattern,” Metria said.  “A design. Each one is unique to itself, with its own history.”

Now Mela saw that the colors and ratios were indeed shifting with her motions, so that the exact display could never be fixed.  That was intriguing.  A person could get lost amidst the shifting lines, especially when she was walking, and never be able to say exactly what he had seen.

She decided that she liked this panty.  “I'll take it,” she said.

Ida went back to where she had found the panty.  “There must be spares, to use when the first gets soiled.”

“Soiled?” Mela asked sharply.

“Dirty, defiled, polluted, foul, filthy-” the demoness said helpfully.

“Pooped?” Okra asked.

“Whatever.” Metria wasn't cross this time, for some reason.

“Whatever!” Mela echoed indignantly.  For some other reason, she was now the cross one.

“Wait, I didn't mean that!” Ida protested.  “Just that they can get smudged if you sit on the ground, or-ah, there they are!” She fished out two more plaid panties.

Now Mela had not just one panty, but three panties.

She was thrilled.  She put the two spares in her purse.

Meanwhile, Okra picked up a pair of furry black panties in the ogre style, donning one and saving the other.  Since they matched her fur, they didn't show, which evidently satisfied the ogress.  Ida took plain white and plain pink and yellow tinged with green panties, matching her hair, but did not put any on; she was already clothed.  This was merely a reserve, in case of soilage, or whatever.  They were ready to go.

Outside it was dusk.  They considered, then decided to spend the night in the pantry, where it was surely safe from monsters.  They went out just far enough to take care of private business and forage for food, and Mela was lucky enough to find a pie bush with a plaid-crusted pie on it.  She stared, amazed, until Okra joined her, and found a black furry cherry pie beside it.  Then Ida came, and found a pink meringue pie.  The pies matched their panties!  That was the magic of this place.

In the morning they set out again.  Metria remained with them, which made Mela wonder; surely the entertainment was over, since the great mystery of the color of her panties had been resolved.  It couldn't be because of the goodness of the demoness's heart, because the Metria had no goodness and no heart.  But it wouldn't do to ask her, because that could remind her to do some mischief.  Maybe the demoness had simply forgotten that the fun was done.

The path wended its way westward in the manner of its kind, through woods and vale, through fields and hills, and through some interesting regions and more boring ones.  They had found an enchanted path, so were reasonably safe from molestation.  At one point they spied a dragon snoozing nearby.  He was a big lusty masculine reptile.

The three mortals paused.  “Are you sure-?” Mela asked.

“Can't touch you,” Metria assured her.  “Can't even breathe fire on you.

These paths are absolutely vermin free.  All he can do is watch and salivate.  You might as well relax and enjoy teasing him.”

The demoness always told the truth, so it should be safe.  Mela forced herself to breathe normally and led the way onward.

The dragon opened an eye.  He blinked.  His pupil expanded awesomely.

Then he rolled over as if dead.

“What's the matter with him?” Ida asked.

“Routine freak-out,“ Metria said.  “He'll recover in due subject.”

“In due what?”

“Study, orbit, flow, process, mode-”

“Time?”

“Route, bearing, direction, trend, course-” The demoness did a double take.  “Course!  I got it!  In due course!  “