The Color Of Her Panties (29 page)

She looked around and saw that the mountain was actually made of huge scrolls and books.  Many were weathered, with bushes and even trees overgrowing them, so that on the surface they might not be evident, but from this vantage they were.  Well, Parnassus was known as the residence of the Muses, who were reputed to be literary folk; maybe these were books they had written.  Roxanne had no interest in the Muses and less in books, but was slightly intrigued by the fact that the tomes had accumulated into a mountain.  What a lot of waste effort!

The sitting bird twitched one feather.

Suddenly Roxanne's wings lost purchase.  She flapped them wildly, but they had little effect.  It was as if the air had stopped having substance, so that she could not fly.

She barely made it to the ground without crashing.  After that she could not take off again no matter how hard she tried.  She was mysteriously grounded.

She was on the side of the mountain.  She had to move by walking, which was embarrassing; trees kept obstructing her, and she had to knock them down.  What had happened to her?

She found a pool and waded in it to cool her feet.  Then she dipped her beak and took a swallow.  The water was cool, but it warmed her throat.

What kind of water was this?

Then she identified the taste.  This was a wine spring!

Tiny folk of the human persuasion appeared around the edge of the pool.

They seemed to be all female, and very active.  They charged in and tried to attack Roxanne.  Well, that made them that much easier to snap up; a good meal was here for the taking.  She caught one in her beak and took a closer look.  Didn't human folk normally wear clothes?  She must have misremembered, because this one wore none.  Maybe they had come to swim.  Well, it hardly mattered.  She dipped the one in the wine for better flavor, then gulped her down.  She was as delicious as any giant worm.  So there was no danger of going thirsty or hungry here.

The wild women kept coming, so Roxanne kept swallowing them.  She had never had as good a meal this readily.  Not since she had split a fat sphinx with her male friend Rocky.  They had gorged until satiated.  “I can't believe I ate the whole thing,” he had squawked.  That was an exaggeration; he had eaten only half.  But she knew exactly how he felt.

They had been too heavy to fly, and had had to sleep on the ground for several days before getting trim enough to resume normal elevation.  But it had been worth it.

That reminded her.  She spread her wings, pumped them, and leaped into the air.  Only to flop back into the drink with a ferocious splash that nearly drowned several wild women who had been trying to hack off her feathers.

She remained ground bound, and it wasn't from overeating.  Something was seriously wrong.

She waded from the pool, seeking a suitable roost for the night.  The wild women followed, still trying to stab her, so she made a sweep of one wing and dumped them in a pile back in the pool.  Then she made her way to a niche in the mountain, found a suitable outcropping of rock, and settled down to rest.  When the wild women came at her again, she spread her wings and flapped forward, and the wind blew them back into the pool.  After a few times they realized that they weren't getting anywhere, and let her be.

Now she had time to think.  How was it that her wings had the power to blow enough air to sweep the wild women into the drink, while they couldn't lift her into the air?

They seemed to be functioning normally, except when she tried to fly.

What could account for this?

Offhand, the most reasonable explanation seemed to be magic.  Some kind of curse.  But how had such a thing come about?

Then she remembered that the other big bird she had been about to visit, the one with the iridescent feathers, had glanced at her, then twitched one feather-just before Roxanne fell to the ground.  That twitch could have been an enchantment!  That must be a bird with a magic talent.

But why?  Roxanne had been innocently coming in for a visit.  Why should another bird choose to mess her up like this?  That was where her thinking faltered; it didn't seem to make sense.

She snoozed, and when she woke it was morning.  She got up and went to the pool for a bath.  The foolish wild women appeared again and tried to interfere, so she ate a few more and blew the rest away.  She finished her bath, took another sip of the warm-tasting wine-water, and strode to the bank.  She shook herself dry, then spread her wings and tried to take off.

Again, she could not.  Her wings beat the air furiously, blowing up a great cloud of dust, but she didn't rise.  It was as if she were tied to the ground.  She could not fly.

A large snake slithered into view.  A very large one.

Rather than being a morsel for eating, this was a potential enemy.  She set herself, making ready to fight.

“Hold,” said the snake in bird talk.  “I have not come to quarrel, but to advise.”

Roxanne was astonished.  “How is it you speak my language?” she squawked.

“I am the Python of Parnassus,” he replied.  “I speak all languages, for it is my duty to guard this mount from intrusion.  The Maenads inform me that you are causing them difficulty.”

“Oh, the wild women?  They taste good when dunked in wine.”

“I agree.  However, they too guard the mount, and should not be preyed upon too savagely, lest the supply of them be exhausted.  That would deprive me of my tastiest morsels.  I must ask you to cease your depreciations on them.”

“I will gladly do so, the moment I can fly away from this place.  I never wanted to stay here anyway, but something funny happened to me on the way to visiting the roc at the summit.”

“That is no roc.  That is the Simurgh, the senior creature of Xanth and the mortal realm.  She is the Keeper of the Seeds, and she sits in the Tree of Seeds and protects the mountain from intrusion by air.  She allows no flying monsters here.  You intruded, so she grounded you.”

“Grounded me!  But I was only coming to say hello!  I didn't know she was so fussy about visitors.”

“Now you know,” the Python said.

“Well, tell her to lift the spell, and I'll fly away.  I certainly don't want to associate with anyone so unfriendly.”

“The Simurgh is not unfriendly.  She merely enforces the rule.  She lacks the patience to educate those who somehow remain unfamiliar with her edict.”

“You mean she won't let me fly again?” Roxanne asked, alarmed.  “What a mean creature!”

“Not mean.  Merely firm.  Ignorance of the requirement is no excuse.”

“But I can't endure forever on the ground!” Roxanne protested.  “I'm a bird!  I need to fly!”

“Then you will have to petition the Simurgh for a release from grounding.  Perhaps she will be lenient, considering your innocence.”

So it was that Roxanne made her way laboriously by foot up to the top of Mount Parnassus to petition the Simurgh.

YOU MUST PERFORM COMMUNITY SERVICE, the Simurgh's powerful thought came.

WHEN YOU HAVE COMPLETED IT SATISFACTORILY, YOU WILL BE UNGROUNDED.

“What is this service?” Roxanne squawked.

YOU MUST GO TO THE NAMELESS CASTLE AND HATCH THE EGG THERE.

That seemed simple enough.  “Where is the Nameless Castle?” she asked.

The Simurgh did not answer directly.  Instead she twitched a feather.

Suddenly Roxanne was there.

The egg was beautiful, but slow in hatching.  Roxanne lost count of the centuries, but was sure she was making progress toward her ungrounding.

She followed the rules of this service scrupulously:  she could eat only those visitors who approached close to the egg.  Sometimes they came in bunches, and sometimes singly.  When there were several, she locked the extras in cages awaiting her appetite.  The spaces between such visits could be brief or long.

It didn't matter.  She snoozed between times.  Somehow it seemed to work out; she was usually somewhat hungry, but never starving.  It was not bad service, actually, but she would be glad when it was finally over.

Gwenny was amazed.  “You have been here for centuries?“

Roxanne's thought reviewed the time scale.  Yes, there did seem to have been several centuries.  She slept so much and so deeply that it was hard to tell.

“But who built the Nameless Castle?  Who laid the egg? What will hatch from it?”

Roxanne did not know.  It was not hers to reason why, merely hers to do and fly.  To egg-sit until it hatched.  That she would faithfully do, because she did not want to annoy the Simurgh again.

“But Che Centaur is protected by all winged monsters, by order of the Simurgh,” Gwenny said.  “The same bird who sent you here for your community service.  You will annoy her something awful if you eat him.”

Roxanne knew nothing about that.  She had never left the Nameless Castle, because she couldn't fly, and had not questioned any of the intruders before eating them.  Why should she take the word of an attempted thief that the Simurgh had said not to eat him?

Gwenny shook her head, baffled.  The roc's thought made sense, on her terms.  How was she to be convinced that she was mistaken?

Then Gwenny heard something.  It was a low humming, perhaps singing, the words not quite distinguishable.  The roc, intent on Gwenny and the endangered egg, was not listening to it.

It was Jenny Elf-trying her magic.  It worked only on those who were within hearing range but not paying attention.  So it wouldn't affect Gwenny this time, because her mind was right on things, but it just might work on the roc, if the roc's attention remained distracted from the elf.

Gwenny saw the dream forming, however, because of the lens in her eye.

It was like a cloud over Jenny's head, where she hid under the ramp.

Within that expanding cloud a scene appeared, at first vague, then clarifying.  It was of a grassy glade, with flowers in the foreground and misty mountains in the background.  In the middleground were glades and sparkling streams and all manner of handsome trees.  It was completely lovely, as Jenny's scenes usually were.

Gwenny wished she could step into that dream, as she had so many times before, but she couldn't afford to.  If she did, she would lose concentration on the wand, and the egg would drop and shatter, leaving the roc nothing to do but destroy all the intruders immediately.  If she set the egg down first and stepped into the dream, the roc could recover the egg and then hunt them down.  So she had to remain alert.  But she could watch it from outside.  This was a new experience, seeing reality and the dream at the same time.

Jenny appeared in the dream.  She walked among the flowers, which was one of her favorite things to do, being careful not to step on any.  She bent down to sniff a big purple passion flower, carefully, because girls were not supposed to get too much of that sort of thing.  Not even those who had been inducted into the Adult Conspiracy.

Sammy Cat appeared in the dream.  He was snoozing in life, near Jenny he did the same in the dream.  There was even a dreamlet cloud over his head within the dream, but its details were obscure.  Probably he was dreaming of himself dreaming of himself dreaming, and so on, each dream cloud smaller until they became pinpoint small and vanished.

Roxanne Roc appeared in the dream.  She looked surprised.  She was surprised; her own thought cloud showed it, with a picture sliced diagonally.  One part was where she had just been, in the Nameless Castle; the other was where she was now, in a lovely glade with an elf girl.

Which one was she to believe?

“Why hello, Roxanne,” Jenny said in the dream.

Gwenny couldn't actually hear the words, but she saw Jenny talking and knew that was what she would be saying.

“What am I doing here?” Roxanne asked.  She could talk directly to Jenny now, because that was the way of it in her dreams.  All barriers between creatures were broken down, and everybody got along harmoniously.

“You are in my dream,” Jenny said.  “It is nicer than reality, because everything is perfect, here.”

T”hings won't be nice for me until I can fly again,” Roxanne said.

“Why, you can fly, here,” Jenny said.

Amazed, Roxanne tried it.  She spread her wings and took off-and sailed into the deep blue sky.  In a moment she was playing tag with a passing cloud.  It was wonderful!

But Gwenny couldn't watch all of this.  Jenny had given her a chance to get them free.  So she moved her wand and set the egg carefully back down into the nest, then stashed the wand in her pack.  She ran across the chamber to the row of cages against the wall.  They were up above her head, because though Roxanne could not fly, she was such a big bird that she could reach far up.  So Gwenny had to climb up the wall.  That was no trouble, because the wall here was made of rough-hewn cloud stuff and was easy to grab on to.  Also, she remained fairly light, because it had not been all that long since Che had lightened her so that he could carry her up to the Nameless Castle.

She climbed, glancing back to make sure that Jenny's dream remained effective.  She saw Jenny by the ramp and Roxanne sitting beside the nest, and the dream cloud between them, filled with its pleasant wonders.  The dream roc was looping and swooping in the air, absolutely delighted.  For centuries she had been grounded, for all that she was in a castle on a cloud in the air, and she was reveling in her newfound flight.  She would not be eager to leave that dream in any hurry.

Gwenny reached the bottom of the cages.  She hooked her fingers into their cloud-strand wire and pulled herself up to the front of Che Centaur's cage.  “Che!” she whispered.  “How does this thing open?”

“It is tied by a fragment of a Gordian not, “ he said sadly.

“A what?”

“A Gordian not.  It is a magical knot that cannot be untied by anyone except the one who tied it.  The roc tied it, so she's the only one who can untie it.”

“But then how can I rescue you?”

“You can't,” he said sadly.  “Nor can you rescue Jenny, I fear.  See whether you can find some way to rescue yourself.”

“I'll do nothing of the kind “ she said indignantly. “You're my companion and next-closest friend.  I must rescue you both.”