The Color Of Her Panties (23 page)

“Oh, that's right; I forgot.  In that case you're in trouble.”

They peered out the door of the shelter.  There was the glowing outline of the toothy head of a dragon.  It was about to chomp the raft.

Okra grabbed the burning waterlog by its unburning end and hurled it into the dragon's maw.

The dragon swallowed the log.  It looked faintly surprised.  It burped.

It was not a fire breather, of course; few of that kind liked the water.

It gulped water from the river.

Steam began to hiss from its ears.  Then it submerged.

“Doesn't it know you can't put out a waterlog with water?” Mela asked.

“Water is its fuel.”

“I don't think it does know,” Ida said, not feeling unduly sorry for the dragon.

“That one won't be back,” the waif said.  “It will take it days to digest that fire, and then it won't feel excruciatingly excellent.”

“Feel what?” Okra asked.

“Never mind!” Mela said.  “Just so long as it's gone.”

“I'm sorry I used up your waterlog,” Okra said contritely.

“Under the circumstances, I'll forgive you,” Mela said with two thirds of a smile.  “I do have another at home.”

“Are there any more water dragons?” Ida asked.

“Not on this river,” the waif said.  “I'm afraid this will be a dull float.”

“How unfortunate,” Mela said dryly, which was a rare mode for her.

So for the next day or so-it was hard to be sure, since the light never changed-they ate and talked and slept, floating down the dark river.  The word must have spread among the local water dragons, because there were no other attacks.

Finally they came to the appropriate region.  They drew the house raft onto a dark beachlet and walked toward the increasing light of the demons' mysterious project.  “Remember,” the waif whispered, “the demons will try to fool you, without actually lying.  Every time they do, I will try to sell a match.  Then you will know.

Soon they encountered an office cave with a demon at a desk.  “Who in heaven are you?” the demon swore.

Mela took the initiative.  “We are merely three women and a waif, come to see Nada Naga.”

“Who says?”

“The Good Magician Humfrey says.  He told us to talk with Nada.

The demon looked at a book which appeared in his hand.  “There is no demoness by that name here.”

“Match?” the waif begged, proffering her box.

The demon scowled across the desk at her.  “Who the delight are you?”

“I am just poor sweet little Woe Betide, eking out her paltry living selling accords.”

oops!  Metria had tried to say too much, and had miscued a word.

“Selling what?” the demon demanded, a wisp of smoke curling up from one tusk.

“A cord of matches,” Mela said quickly.  “Or only one. Whatever you care to buy, to help the poor innocent defenseless big-eyed cute little waif.”

The demon frowned.  The wisp of smoke formed a floating question mark.

Possibly he was suspicious.  A golden coin appeared in his hand.  “I will buy a match,” he said.

“O thank you ever so much, Sir Demon!” Woe cried ecstatically.  She gave him a match.

He took the match and flipped it into the air.  It did not puff into smoke and dissipate.  He caught it and scratched it briskly across the suddenly marbled surface of the desk.

It burst into flame.  It really was a match.

Meanwhile Woe had given them the hint:  the demon was trying to temporize.  What?  Ida asked herself.  Deceive, cheat, dupe, mislead, delude, she answered herself.

Fool?  Whatever.  So they had to find out what he was hiding.  He had said that there was no demoness by the name of Nada Naga here.

Mela seemed to have pursued a similar chain of thought.

“We did not say that Nada was a demoness.  She is a mortal of the naga persuasion.”

“Oh, that Nada.  She is too busy for visitors at the moment.”

“Match?” Woe inquired.

“I already bought one!” the demon snapped.

“No one can be too busy for the Good Magician's business,” Mela said.

“We must talk with her.”

The demon sighed.  The wind of his sigh was tinged with frustrated-looking smoke.  “Very well.  I will have a demon take you to her.”

“Match?“

“If you bug me again, Ms. Betide, I will turn you into a silly piece of putty!” the demon snapped.

Woe puffed up.  “I'd like to see you try, basiliskbreath!“

All three others closed in on her.  “Oh, were you frightened by a basilisk?” Ida asked solicitously.

“Poor little thing!” Mela said.

“I will go stomp on it,” Okra said.

Mela turned to the demon.  “The poor waif isn't quite right in her mind.

I think a basilisk thought about breathing on her mother.  I think a regular demon would frighten her.  Could you have a demoness show us the way instead?

The demon blew a double smoke ring tinged with fire.

“Anything to get rid of you.  Which one do you want?”

“Magpie,” Okra said.

Suddenly the demons suspicion doubled.  “How do you know of the one nice demoness?”

“I'm an ogre girl,” Okra said.  “Magpie came to help at our banquets.

She told me how she helped similarly when Rose of Roogna married the Good Magician.”

The demon turned pages in his ledger.  “I see that Magpie did serve at the Good Magician's wedding to Rose of Roogna.  That was a demon extravaganza.”

“A what?” Woe asked.

“A bash, event, shindig, fancy occasion, celebration--”

“Blowout?” Woe offered.

“Whatever,” he said crossly.  Then he stared at her suspiciously.

“There's only one creature I know who-”

“Please summon Magpie to guide us,” Mela said urgently.  “I'm sure she'll be just fine.”

“Anything to get rid of you.“ He snapped his fingers, making sparks fly out, and a grandmotherly figure appeared.

“Magpie!” Okra exclaimed, hugging her.

“My dear, how you've changed!“ the demoness exclaimed..  “You look almost human!”

“It's this clothing I have to wear among the human folk, “ Okra said, embarrassed.

“But you look almost nice!”

“I know,” Okra agreed, more embarrassed.

“And who are these folk with you?  I see that one's human, one's from the sea, and one's-”

“A poor innocent match girl waif!” Mela cried.

Magpie gazed at Woe, evidently not for an instant deceived.  “Yes, of course,” she said.  “Well, where is it you need to go?”

“To see Nada Naga,” Mela said.  “The Good Magician sent us.”

“Very well.  Right this way.” Magpie walked briskly down a new tunnel that appeared in the rock.

They followed.  First Mela, then Okra, then Ida, then Woe.  Woe moved up to pace Ida.  “She knows, but she's despicably nice,” she murmured.  “She wouldn't hurt anyone for anything, even another demon.  So she's letting me pass.”

“Maybe you can follow her example,” Ida murmured back.

“Why?

Ida realized that it was useless to suggest ethics or niceness to a demon.  Demons had no souls.  They merely did what pleased them, in their various ways.  It pleased Magpie to be a nice emulation of a human being; it pleased Metria to be mischievous and curious.  They could be trusted to be those things, and no more.  Since there were times when it was necessary to work with demons-such as right now-it was best to have a realistic understanding of their natures.

So she revised her answer.  “It might be entertaining.”

“I doubt it.”

So much for that notion.

They came to a cavernous chamber, or perhaps a chamberous cavern.  A lot seemed to be going on at once.

Demons were everywhere, doing mysterious things.  There was a flying dragon in one corner, using a dummy model of a human being for target practice.  The curious thing was that the dragon kept missing.  Ida realized that it was trying to come as close as it could without actually scoring.  Demons were measuring paths, apparently making them as narrow as possible without preventing human passage.  Others were digging holes in the ground, and fashioning cunning covers for them, to make them look like safe paths that would actually give way under the weight of unwary travelers and dump them down.

“This looks like a bad dream factory!” Woe murmured. “I wonder whether they're setting up in competition to the gourd realm.”

“Why?” Ida asked.

The demoness seemed taken aback.  “It might be entertaining,” she said after a pause.”

“I doubt it,” Ida said.

“So much for that notion,” Woe said.

Ida had a feeling of deja-vu, but couldn't think of the term and wouldn't have known its meaning anyway, so had to let it go.

Magpie led them to a lovely young woman wearing a serpentine gown.  She was standing before a demon in mundane costume, reading a script.  “No, I will not do that,” she said, facing a blue line which was painted on the ground before her.

“But how else will we get across the river?” the demon asked, reading from his own script.  He sounded unconvincing.

“We shall have to find some other way.  A princess does not disrobe before a stranger.”

“No, no!” an imposing figure of a demon objected.  He had gnarled horns and swishing tail, and fangs that shaped his mouth into a set snarl.  “Do not volunteer the information!  Make him ask for it.”

“But it says here-” the woman protested.

“Not anymore, Nada,” the old demon said.

Nada glanced at her script.  It seemed that it had changed.

They tried it again.  “We shall have to find some other way,” Nada said.

“But why?” the mundane demon asked, managing to be just as unconvincing as before.

“Because a princess does not disrobe before a stranger,” Nada read.

“But I'm not a stranger!  “ the mundane demon read.

“We've been together for hours now.”

“Oh.  Well, in that case-”

“Cut!“ roared the fanged old demon.  “Never ad-lib!  Is your brain full of mush?  Follow the script!”

“But, professor, the script doesn't cover everything. Suppose he tries to kiss me?”

The mundane demon stepped forward and put his arms around her, happy to play the scene.

“Then you change into a serpent and slither away,” the professor responded.

The mundane demon tried to kiss her.  She became a serpent and started to slither.  “No, you don't!” he said, grabbing her by the neck.  She opened her jaws, about to bite him.

“Cut!” the professor cried.  “You must not bite the Mundane.  You are not allowed to hurt him.  You are supposed to be helping him.”

The serpent became the woman again.  “But Mundanes are unpredictable,”

Nada pointed out.  “How can I predict what he might do if I don't teach him some manners?”

“That's what we're doing now:  working out all the variations, so that there can be no surprises.  Now take it from the top.  You come around the bend and spy the river, which bars the way to your destination.”

“Oh, this is all so complicated!” Nada exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

The mundane demon reached out and started pulling up her dress.  “Eeeeek!“ she shrieked.

“Well, he might try that,” the mundane demon said.

“Then let's add a motion to the script,” she said furiously.  “A punch in the snoot.”

“A snake can't punch,” the mundane demon pointed out smugly.  “She has no fists.”

“Then suppose I bite his face off?” she demanded, forming the head of a snake with a huge mouth.

“Take a break!” the professor snapped, evidently fed up.

Relieved, Nada walked away from the river.  Magpie chose this moment to approach her.  “Nada, you have visitors.”

“Just so long as they're not from Mundania,” Nada said wearily.

“Oh, no, we're from Xanth,” Mela said.  “The Good Magician Humfrey sent us to talk with you.”

“Why would he do that?  I don't know you.”

“We don't know.  We came to ask our Questions, and he wouldn't answer. Instead he told us to-”

The professor interceded.  “Get organized!” he said severely, cowing them all.  “First establish identities.  I am Professor Grossclout, inducted into the direction of this ludicrous charade.  This is Princess Nada Naga, one of the leading players in the game and ordinarily a nice person.

“You four are?” His terrible gaze turned to each of them in turn.

“Mela Merwoman.

“Okra Ogress.”

“Ida Human.”

“Woe Betide.”

“Metria, what are you doing here?” Grossclout demanded.  “Weren't you banned from the premises?”

The waif turned the biggest, hugest, meltingest, most tearful doll-brown eyes on him.  “Please, professor, I want so much to know what's going on.”

“Very well,” he said grimly.  “You will not only learn, you will participate.  As part of that participation, you will be unable to tell any outside party anything about this project.

“I'm not sure I want to participate,” Metria demurred.

“I don't recall inquiring as to your wants.” The professor gestured.

The waif was engulfed in a puff of smoke.

When it cleared, Metria was herself again.  “You are enrolled,” he said. “You will be one of the list of authorized companions.  Let's hope no one chooses you.”

“I'm getting out of here,” Metria said, alarmed.

“You are reporting to your station for rehearsal,” he said.  “Magpie! Take her there.”

The grandmotherly demoness approached the beautiful young one, who seemed unable to flee.  “Come, dear.  It is really an interesting project.” The two vanished.

“But Metria may not like the role,” Nada said.

“To be sure,” the professor agreed.  Then he fashioned his set grimace into something very like a smile.

Ida suspected that the Demoness Metria was receiving her just desserts.

Unfortunately such desserts seldom tasted very good.

The professor returned his attention to the three of them.

“Now I happen to know Humfrey,” he said.  “He is a good man, for a mortal, and he nominally has sufficient reason for what he does.  What were your Questions?”

“How can I get a good husband?” Mela asked.

“How can I get rid of Jenny Elf?” Okra asked.

“What is my destiny?” Ida asked.

“Well, no wonder!” the professor exclaimed.  “His Answers would be counterproductive.”