The Color Of Her Panties (18 page)

So it was agreed.  They took the next side path east, and in the afternoon came to the big river.  It seemed far too wide to have originated north of the Gap, but Che had the answer to that:  “I understand it crosses the Gap.  It flows down the south side, and up the north side.  I suspect it has to use magic to make the climb, but rivers always do what they need to, to get by.  Every one of them knows where there is the sea or a lake, and winds toward it unerringly.  It is part of their water magic.”

They foraged for suitable wood, and for vines to lash the sticks together, drawing on their prior experience.  By nightfall they had a big unruly raft.  But they were satisfied with it, because any water dragons who tried to chomp it would get a mouthful of messy branches, and would probably give up the effort before causing any real damage.  A fire dragon could set the wood on fire, of course, but it was unlikely that any fire breathers would be on the river.

They stocked the raft with many pillows and towels, so as to have comfortable beds and masks against smoke and steam, just in case.  And of course they stocked a pile of assorted pies, together with many milkweed pods.

They floated down as the night closed.  Che had assured them that his geography showed no waterfalls on this river.  They might get hung up on overleaning tree branches, but that would merely delay them, not hurt them.  Progress might be slow, because the current was easygoing, but they would be able to keep moving day and night, which was nice.

Indeed, it seemed that the river dragons were not paying attention, because they passed the night unmolested.  In the morning they were well along the river, significantly closer to Goblin Mountain.  Then Gwenny glanced up, and saw a flying dragon circling overhead.  Oh the winged monsters were still watching, and must have let their river dwelling cousins know that this raft was to be left alone.

That was the advantage of having Che Centaur in their party.

In two days they drifted about as close as the river cared to go toward Goblin Mountain.  Gwenny could understand why it preferred to stay clear.  They left their big raft with a certain regret and resumed their foot trek.

Now they walked west toward the mountain, which loomed in the distance.

It was Gwenny's true home, but she had seldom seen it from the outside, and it looked awful.  In the past two years she had developed an appreciation for the open outdoors, and for the surface cabin of the centaurs.  When she had visited home, the centaurs had normally carried her there through the air, and she hadn't worn her spectacles, so that she had not seen it clearly.

That had been more of an advantage than she had realized at the time.

But worse was her dread of the even uglier goblin politics she knew she would encounter therein.  She had been protected from that sort of thing by her mother, but now she knew that she would face the worst of it, and Godiva could not shield her from very much.  But maybe with the help of her friends she could find her way through that morass too.  She hoped.

A goblin guard noticed them.  He had of course been snoozing on the job, but now he jumped up and waved his club.  “Get out of here, you freaks!” he yelled politely.

“Oh, don't be silly, Hawkspittle,” Gwenny retorted.

“Go tell the Lady Godiva her daughter's here.”

Hawkspittle rubbed his eyes.  “Oh, it's you, Gwendolyn,” he said, recognizing her.  He turned about and went into a hole in the mountain.

In due course Gwenny's mother came out, her voluminous hair swirling with authority.  She hurried to embrace her daughter.  “Oh, Gwendolyn, you're just in time.  Thank goodness you're here!  Something terrible has happened!”

Gwenny's feeling of dread intensified.  “What, Mother?  “

“It involves your half brother, over whom my authority has disappeared since the death of your father.  Now he is worse than ever.”

“I think that is impossible, Mother,” Gwenny said seriously.  “What could be worse than his normal brattiness?“

“There has been a violation of the Adult Conspiracy.”

Now the dread welled up like a monster from the gourd.

“You mean he-he knows?”

“Yes.  And he is threatening to tell it to every child in Goblin Mountain, if he isn't made chief by high noon tomorrow.”

Now Gwenny understood how this related to her.  Gobble was her only rival for chief, because he was the only other child of Gouty Goblin.

But he was too young, at age twelve, except by special dispensation.

With an awful threat like that, he might obtain that dispensation.

Gwenny, at age fourteen, and now legitimately in the Adult Conspiracy, just barely qualified for the office.  But she was a girl, which was two strikes against her.  Her bad eyesight would have been the third.  She had fixed that, but if Gobble's disgusting ploy worked, it would make no difference.  Goblin Mountain would not only have another bad male chief, it would be the worst possible one-and a juvenile too.  Instead of improving, the goblins would become much worse than before.

And it was her job to prevent that.  She was the only one who could.  If only she had some idea how!

Okra now felt distinctly awkward in her panty, though it hardly showed on her dark body.  She, too, had been deceived by the Demoness Metria.

It wasn't that Metria had lied, she had just failed to clarify the truth, knowing they would misunderstand.  Okra was of course stupid enough to do that.  It made her feel slightly less worse to know that Mela Merwoman had also been deceived.  Thus they had both unwittingly violated the Adult Conspiracy, and given the demoness her demonic laugh for the day.

Well, Magician Grey Murphy had said that there would be better clothing for them inside.  That would be welcome!  Now all they had to do was get inside.

The Good Magician's castle stood in the center of a circular plane.  A breeze waited out from it.  As they approached, the breeze became a wind, then a gale, and finally a storm too strong to go against.  Their hair streamed out behind them, and they leaned way forward, but their feet slid against the sand and they could not make further headway.

“A challenge!” Okra said.

“It must be,” Mela agreed.  “But since it's only wind, maybe we can get around it and get blown into the castle from the other side.”

So they walked around the edge of the plane.  But the wind kept blowing at them, and when they were on the opposite side, it was still blowing them away from the castle.

“How can it be a circular wind?” Ida asked.  “I mean, where is the wind coming from?”

“I think I heard of something like this,” Okra said.  “ A story of places called the-the Propeller Plains.  I wonder if this could be one of them that maybe the Magician borrowed to use as a challenge?”

Mela nodded.  “Maybe my magic manual shows it.”

She dug it out of her purse and turned the pages.  “Yes.

The Propeller Plains are in western Xanth.  They are big invisible blades that turn over their planes, sucking air down from above and blowing it out along the ground.

“You just have to go around them.”

“We have been around this one,” Ida said.  “But the castle is in the center.”

“There must be a way,” Mela said.  “There's supposed to be.  All we have to do is find it.”

Okra got down flat on the ground, to see if she could crawl under the propeller.  But the wind was just as strong there.  She scooped some sand out with a hand, but the wind immediately filled in the hole with more sand.  She couldn't dig under it either.

“There must be something we haven't seen yet,” Ida said.

They retreated to ponder the matter.  Beyond the edge of the plane were bushes and trees and a shed.  The shed was filled with small figures.

“What are these?” Ida asked, picking up one of the figures.

“It seems to be a doll,” Mela said.  “With a drum.”

“A toy?” Okra asked, picking up another.  It did indeed seem to be a little drummer boy with two sticks to beat his drum.  In back was a key.

She turned the key, and when she let it go, the doll's arms moved, making the sticks strike the drum in a faint pitter-patter.

“Do you think these dolls have anything to do with the challenge?” Ida asked.

“They must,” Mela said.  “But how can a little doll stop all that fierce wind?”

“A doll that drums,” Okra said, intrigued.  “I never saw one of these before.” She wound her doll.  “Drum, doll, drum!“

“What did you say?” Ida asked.

“Doll, drum,” Mela said.  “Isn't that-?”

“Maybe it is!”

“What is?” Okra asked, perplexed.

“When the doll drums, maybe- Come on, we must try it!

They hurried back to the plane with Okra's doll, to her confusion.  “Now make it drum,” Mela said.

Okra wound the key a turn and let it go.  The doll drummed.  The wind died.

“It works!” Ida exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“Why did the wind stop?” Okra asked, still confused.

“The doll drums make it stop,” Mela explained.  “Doldrums!  Those are calm regions.  That's how we can get through!

But then the wind resumed.  “No problem,” Mela said.

“We just have to wind the doll more, so it will drum longer.”

“Maybe we should take several dolls,” Ida suggested.

“So that when one stops, we have another, and don't get blown away.”

“Excellent notion!”

They gathered two dolls apiece, and wound one each.

“We'll take turns,” Mela said.  “When mine stops, let yours drum, Ida, and when that stops, you let yours play, Okra.  Meanwhile we'll each wind our other doll and hold it ready, so that the drumming never stops.

We should be able to make it all the way to the castle, if we're careful.”

They did so.  They found that it didn't matter if two dolls were going at the same time, but if there was even a moment when none was going, the winds resumed fiercely.

So they overlapped them, and walked steadily toward the castle.

When they reached the moat, the winds stopped.  They experimented, letting their dolls run down.  The wind resumed, but now it was beyond them.  They were inside it.

They had passed the first challenge.

But the second challenge was already hard upon them.

A horrendous dragon was running just outside the moat, charging toward them.

“Eeeek!” Ida screamed.  “What kind of dragon is that?“

Okra peered at the monster.  She had seen dragons on occasion, when ogre males got into fights with them, so she knew the basic types.  They could be flying, ground, or water; fire, smoke, or steam, in any combination.  This one wasn't flaming, smoking, or steaming, so it might be a rare “breathless” dragon, still dangerous.  It was on the ground and lacked wings, so was landbound.  Yet there was something odd about it.  The scales of the back were not lying flat; some were sticking up in rows.

“A weird one,” she said.  “But it does have teeth, so we need to get out of its way.”

“But we can't go back the way we came,” Mela said.

“The wind would blow us away, unless we kept playing the doll drums, and then the dragon would probably snap us up.”

“And we can't go into the castle, because the drawbridge is up,” Okra said.

“Then we'd better run,” Ida said.  “Because that thing is getting awfully close.”

They ran ahead of the dragon, around the moat.  But the monster was gaining.  “Do we go into the wind or the water?” Okra asked.  She was moving along well enough, but the other two were puffing.  That was because they weren't ogres.

“The water!” Mela gasped.

So they swerved inward, and plunged into the moat.

They got enmeshed in moatweed, and Mela wound up astride a thick tentacle of the stuff.  “Oh, yech!  “ she exclaimed.  “I forgot it was fresh water!“ She slapped the weed tentacle, and it sank back into the murky water.  “I can't change to my tail in this stuff.”

Ida was no better off.  Her clothing was now festooned with soggy weed, and her hair was green with moat slime.

“Yech,” she echoed.

But Okra's mind was on business.  “The dragon's still coming after us!”

“We'll have to swim across,” Mela said.  “It probably can't swim.”

They tried to swim, but there turned out to be a fierce current in the moat that carried them right back to shore.

Worse, the dragon was entering the water-and it floated!

Its raised scales formed a barrier against the water, so that its body was much like a boat.  It could handle the water better than they could.

The dragon floated near them.  Its toothy head loomed close.  It was about to gobble them up!

“Maybe we can talk it out of eating us,” Okra said without any great effusion of hope.

“That's an idea!“ Ida agreed.  “Maybe it will work.”

Mela hauled herself upright, thigh deep in the water, and faced the monster.  The creature's gaze bore down on her.  There was a reflection of plaid in his eye.  “I say, dragon, let's introduce ourselves.  Who are you, and what is your business?”

“I am Dragon Dola,” he replied.  “I am going to put you in my belly.”

“But we aren't very good to eat,” Mela said.  “I'm Mela Merwoman, and I taste rather fishy.  This is Okra, and she tastes like an ogress.  And that's Ida, and her soggy clothing would snag on your teeth.”

Something about the dragon nagged at Okra.  His name and the way he floated, reminded her of something.  “His name-it means something. Something that floats-”

“I'm sure you will all fit nicely in my belly,” the dragon  said, cranking his jaws open.

Then Ida figured it out.  “You're not a dragon-you're a gondola!  A type of boat.  We misheard your name!”

“Dra Gondola, at your service,” the dragon agreed.

“So all we have to do is climb into your belly, and you'll carry us across the moat!”

“Exactly.”

So they climbed over the upright scales and into the belly of the boat.

Then Dra lifted his head high, paddled his feet, and moved smoothly across the water.  The current didn't bother him, as he was mainly above it.

Okra was amazed.  All they had had to do was get the dragon's name right, and he was part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

Dra Gondola reached the inner shore and crawled up onto the land.  “Time to disembark,” he announced.

“To do what kind of barking?” Okra asked.

“To get out before you get barked at,” he clarified.

They clambered out.  “Thank you, Dra,” Mela said.

“I might not have helped, if I hadn't been dazzled by your panty,” the dragon confessed.

“Oh!” Mela exclaimed, blushing in a plaid pattern.

Okra had not known she could do that.

Dra slid back into the water and paddled back across the moat.  Their second challenge had been navigated.  Now all they had to do was pass the third and enter the castle.

The main gate was closed.  Mela tried the latch, and the gate opened.

They went in.  Could this be all?  No third challenge?  Okra didn't trust that.

They walked on through a wide passage.  The stones of the castle arched up overhead, closing it in.  It was dark, but not too dark; they could see light at the end.

They reached that light-and discovered that it was the other side of the castle.  They had walked right through it without really getting in.

They walked back through, looking for side passages, but there were none.  It was just a tunnel through the center of the castle, going nowhere.

“I think we're in the third challenge after all,” Ida remarked.

“We must have to find the entrance,” Mela said.  “But I certainly don't see it.”

“We'll just have to look better,” Okra said.  She put her hands to the wall, feeling the stones.  She pulled-and a stone swung out.  It was a door!  It seemed to open into some sort of closet.

The others crowded close.  But when it was all the way open, there was a surprise.  “Boo!” something cried, rattling.

“Eeeek!  “ Ida screamed, and Mela gasped.  Okra slammed the door closed.

For there in the closet was a skeleton.  It was a small one, but definitely human.  Every bone was bare.

Still, they had discovered that the walls of the tunnel were not solid.

Where there was one door there might be another.  Okra felt along more stones.

Soon she found another door stone.  Cautiously she pulled it open.

“Boo!” It was another little skeleton.  Okra shut the door.

So it went.  There turned out to be many doors, but behind each was a rattling bony figure.  There was a skeleton in every closet.

They sat on the stone floor in the center and consulted.

“Maybe we could go on through a closet, if a skeleton weren't there,” Ida suggested.

“How can we get into the castle proper when there's no way past those little horrors?” Mela asked.  “I certainly wouldn't want to touch one!”

But then she reconsidered.

“They aren't all horrible.  I remember now.  Marrow Bones was a good creature, and so was his friend Grace'l Ossein.

But they were adult skeletons from the gourd.”

“From the gourd?” Ida asked.

“You don't know about the realm of the gourd?  It's where bad dreams are made, for the night mares to carry out to deserving sleepers.”

“Yes, I know that.  My tutor told me.  But I didn't know that any creatures could come out of it, except the night mares.”

“Well, they seldom do.  But sometimes funny things happen.  Marrow and Grace'l had quite a story.  They helped me, actually; that's how I recovered my firewater opal.”

Okra noticed that a closet door was opening a crack by itself.  Could the skeleton be listening?  Maybe talk about big skeletons interested little skeletons.

Could that be a way through?  If they got all the little skeletons listening, so they didn't want to yell “boo!” all the time?  Okra wasn't quite sure how that would help, but it seemed better than nothing.

“Tell us about Marrow and Grace'l,” Okra suggested.

“Yes, I'm curious too,” Ida said.

“Well, it really isn't-” Mela started to demur.  But Okra nudged her gently with a toe.  Then Mela saw the partly open closet doors, and realized that something was happening.  “Very well.  It all started, as far as I was concerned, when Marrow brought Prince Dolph to me in a boat.  Actually the boat was made up of the bones of Marrow and Grace'l it was weird!  I saw that cute prince and decided that he would do for a husband, once he came of age to join the Adult Conspiracy.” She paused.

“Do you suppose those little skeletons in their closets are youngsters? Then I mustn't say any more about that!”

“How many adult skeletons are out of the gourd?” Ida inquired.

“Only those two, I believe.  So they made a couple.”

Then Mela's eyes widened.  “Why, these little skeletons must be theirs! There's no other way, because any other little skeletons would still be in the gourd.”

“So there can't be very many,” Okra said.  “Maybe only one or two, and they move around to block off any doors we open.”

Mela nodded.  Then she resumed her history.  “So I took the little prince down to my cozy den under the sea, and fed him nutritious food.

But the little mischief changed into a gourd and I got caught by its peephole.  Then Marrow Bones came down to take him away.  But we made a deal:  in exchange for the prince, they would fetch me back my lost firewater opal.  So Grace'l remained with me as a hostage, and I let the prince go.”