Centaur Aisle (16 page)

"Me make a lake," Smash said, readying his huge ham-fist. With the trees gone, this would be a more or less open body of murky water.

"No, let's see if we can find a way through," Dor said. "King Trent never liked to have wilderness areas wantonly destroyed, for some reason. And if we make a big commotion, it could attract whatever monsters there are."

They skirted the thicket and soon came across another sign: THE LOIN WALKS WHERE IT WILL. Near it was a neat, dry path through the forest, elevated slightly above the swamp.

"Any danger here?" Dor inquired.

"Not much," the sign said.

They used the path. As they penetrated the thicket, there were rustlings in the trees and slurpings in the muck below. "What's that noise?" Dor asked, but received no answer. This forest was so dense there was nothing inanimate in it; the water was covered with green growth, and the path itself was formed of living roots.

"I'll try," Grundy said. He spoke in tree language, and after a moment reported: "They are cog rats and skug worms; nothing to worry about as long as you don't turn your back on them."

The rustlings and slurpings became louder. "But they are all around us!" Irene protested. "How can we avoid turning our backs?"

"We can face in all directions," Chet said. "I'll go forward; Grundy can ride me facing backward. The rest of you can look to either side."

They did so, Smash on the left, Dor and Irene on the right. The noises stayed just out of sight. "But let's get on out of this place!" Irene said.

"I wonder how the loin makes out, since this seems to be its path," Dor said.

As if in answer to his question, they came upon another sign: THE LOIN IS LORD OF THE JUNGLE. Obviously the cog rats and skug worms didn't dare bother the loin.

"I am getting more curious about this thing," Irene said. "Does it hunt, does it eat, does it play with others of its kind? What
is
it?"

Dor wondered, too, but still hesitated to state his conjectures. Suppose it wasn't a misspelling? How, then, would it hunt, eat, and play?

They hurried on and finally emerged from the thicket—only to encounter another sign. THE LOIN SHALL LIE WITH THE LAMB.

"What's a lamb?" Irene asked.

"A Mundane creature," Chet said. "Said to be harmless, soft, and cuddly, but stupid."

"That's the kind the loin would like," she muttered darkly.

Still no one openly expressed conjectures about the nature of this creature. They traveled on down to the southern tip of this long island. The entire coastline of Xanth, Chet explained, was bordered by barrier reefs that had developed into island chains; this was as good and safe a route as they could ask for, since they no longer had a boat. There should be very few large predators on the islands, since there was insufficient hunting area for them, and the sea creatures could not quite reach the interiors of the isles. But no part of Xanth was wholly safe. All of them were ready to depart this Isle of the Loin.

As they came to the beach, they encountered yet another sign: A PRIDE OF LOINS. And a roaring erupted behind them, back along the path in the thicket. Something was coming—and who could doubt what it was?

"Do we want to meet a pride of loins?" Chet asked rhetorically.

"But do we want to swim through that?" Grundy asked.

They looked. A fleet of tiger sharks had sailed in while Dor's party stood on the beach. Each had a sailfin and the head of a tiger. They crowded in as close to the shore as they could reach, snarling hungry welcome.

"I think we're between the dragon and the dune again," Grundy said.

"I can stop the tiger sharks," Irene said. "I have a kraken seaweed seed."

"And I still have the hypno-gourd; that should stop a loin," Chet said. "Assuming it's a case of misspelling. There is a Mundane monster like the front half of a tiger shark, called a—"

"But there must be several loins in a pride," Grundy said. "Unless it's just one loin standing mighty proud."

"Me fight the fright," Smash said.

"A pride might contain twenty individuals," Chet said. "You might occupy half a dozen, Smash—but the remaining dozen or so would have opportunity to eat up the rest of us. If that is what they do."

"But we don't know there are that many," Irene protested uncertainly.

"We've got to get out of here!" Grundy cried. "Oh, I never worried about my flesh when I was a real golem!"

"Maybe you weren't as obnoxious then," Irene suggested. "Besides which, you didn't
have
any flesh then."

But the only way to go was along the beach—and the tiger sharks paced them in the water. "We can't escape either menace this way," Irene said. "I'm planting my kraken." She tossed a seed into the water. "Grow, weed!"

Chet held forward the hypno-gourd that he had retained through all their mishaps, one palm covering the peephole. "I'll show this to the first loin, regardless."

Smash joined him. "Me reckon the secon'," he said, his hamfists at the ready. "An' nerd the third."

"You're the Magician," Grundy told Dor. "Do something."

Dor made a wild attempt. "Anything—is there any way out of here?"

"Thought you'd never ask," the sand at his feet said. "Of course there's a way out."

"You know a way?" Dor asked, gratified.

"No."

"For goodness' sake!" Irene exclaimed. "What an idiot!"

"You'd be stupid, too," the sand retorted, "if your brains were fragmented mineral."

"I was referring to
him!"
she said, indicating Dor. "To think they call him a Magician! All he can do is play ventriloquist with junk like you."

"That's telling him," the sand agreed. "That's a real load of sand in his eyes."

"Why did you say there was a way out if you don't know it?" Dor demanded.

"Because my neighbor the bone knows it."

Dor spotted the bone and addressed it. "What's the way out?"

"The tunnel, idiot," the bone said.

The sound of the pride of loins was looming louder. The tiger sharks were snarling as the growing kraken weed menaced them. "Where's the tunnel?" Dor asked.

"Right behind you, at the shore," the bone said. "I sealed it off, took three steps, and fell prey to the loins."

"I don't see it," Dor said.

"Of course not; the high tide washes sand over it. Last week someone goosed the tide and it dumped a lot more sand. I'm the only one who can locate the tunnel now."

Dor picked up the bone. It resembled the thighbone of a man. "Locate the tunnel for me."

"Right there, where the water laps. Scrape the sand away." It angled slightly in his hand, pointing.

Dor scraped, and soon uncovered a boulder. "This seals it?" he asked.

"Yes," the bone said. "I hid my pirate treasure under the next island and tunneled here so no one would know. But the loins—"

"Hey, Smash," Dor called. "We have a boulder for you to move."

"Oh, I wouldn't," the bone cautioned. "That's delicately placed so the thieves can't force it. The tunnel will collapse."

"Well, how do we get in, then?"

"You have to use a sky hook to lift the boulder out without jarring the sides."

"We don't have a sky hook!" Dor exclaimed angrily.

"Of course you don't. That was my talent, when I was alive. No one but me could safely remove that boulder. I had everything figured, except the loin."

As the bone spoke, the kraken weed, having driven back the tiger sharks, was questing toward the shore. Soon it would be more of a menace to them than the tiger sharks had been.

"Any progress?" Chet asked. "I do not want to rush you, but I calculate we have thirty seconds before the loins, whatever they are, burst out of the forest."

"Chet!" Dor exclaimed. "Make this boulder into a pebble! But don't jar anything."

The centaur touched the boulder, and immediately it shrank. Soon it was a pebble that fell into the hole beneath it. The passage was open.

"Jump in!" Dor cried.

Irene was startled. "Who, me?"

"Close enough," Grundy said. "Want to stand there and show off your legs to the loins?"

Irene jumped in. "Say, this is neat!" she called from below, her voice echoing hollowly. "Let me just grow something to illuminate it—"

"You next," Dor said to Chet. "Try not to shake the tunnel; it's not secure." Chet jumped in with surprising delicacy, Grundy with him.

"Okay, Smash," Dor said.

"No go," the ogre said, bracing to face the land menace. "Me join the loin." And he slammed one huge fist into a hammy palm with a sound like a crack of thunder.

Smash wanted to guard the rear. Probably that was best. Otherwise the loins might pursue them into the tunnel. "Stand next to the opening," Dor said. "When you're ready, jump in and follow us. Don't wait too long. Soon the kraken will reach here; that will stop the loins, I think. Don't tangle with the kraken; we need it to stand guard after you rejoin us."

The ogre nodded. The bellow of the loins became loud. Dor jumped in the hole.

He found himself in a man-sized passage, leading south, under the channel. The light from the entrance faded rapidly. But Irene had thoughtfully planted starflowers along the way, and their pinpoint lights marked the progress of the tunnel, Dor paused to unwrap his midnight sunstone; its beam helped considerably.

As Dor walked, he heard the approach of the pride of loins outside. Smash made a grunt of surprise. Then there was the sound of contact. "What's going on?" Dor cried, worried.

"The ogre just threw a dandyloin to the kraken," the pebble in the mouth of the tunnel said. "Now he's facing up to their leader, Sir Loin Stake. He's tough and juicy."

"Smash, come on!" Dor cried. "Don't push your luck!"

The ogre's reply was muffled. All Dor heard was ". . . luck!"

"Oooo, what you said!" the pebble exclaimed. "Wash out your mouth with soapstone!"

In a moment Smash came lumbering down the tunnel, head bowed to clear the ceiling. A string of kraken weed was strewn across his hairy shoulder. Evidently he had held off the loins until the kraken took over the vicinity. "Horde explored, adored the gourd," he announced, cracking a smile like a smoking cleft in a lightning-struck tree. Those who believed ogres had no sense of humor were obviously mistaken; Smash could laugh with the best, provided the joke was suitably fundamental.

"What did the loins look like?" Dor asked, overcome by morbid curiosity.

Smash paused, considering, then uttered one of his rare nonrhyming utterances. "Ho ho ho ho ho!" he bellowed—and the fragile tunnel began to crumble around them. Rocks dislodged from the ceiling and the walls oozed moisture.

Dor and the ogre fled that section. Dor was no longer very curious about the nature of the loins; he just wanted to get out of this tunnel alive. They were below the ocean; they could be crushed inexorably if the tunnel support collapsed. A partial collapse, leading to a substantial leak, would flood the tunnel. Even an ogre could not be expected to hold up an ocean.

They caught up to the others. There was no crash behind them; the tunnel had not collapsed. Yet.

"This place makes me nervous," Irene said.

"No way out but forward," Chet said. "Quickly."

The passage seemed interminable, but it did trend south. It must have been quite a job for the pirate to excavate this, even with his sky hook to help haul out the refuse. How ironic that the loin should be his downfall, after he had finished the tunnel! They hurried onward and downward, becoming more nervous as the depth deepened. To heighten their apprehension, the bottom of the tunnel became clammy, then slick. A thin stream of water was flowing in it—and soon it was clear that this water was increasing.

Had the ogre's laugh triggered a leak, after all? If so, they were doomed. Dor was afraid even to mention the possibility.

"The tide!" Chet said. "The tide is coming in—and high tide covers the entrance. This passage is filling with water!"

"Oh, good!" Dor said, relieved.

Four pairs of eyes focused on him, perplexed.

"Uh, I was afraid the tunnel was collapsing," Dor said lamely. "The tide—that's not so bad."

"In the sense that a slow demise is better than a fast one," the centaur said.

Dor thought about that. His apprehension became galloping dread. How could they escape this? "How much longer is this tunnel?" Dor asked.

"You're halfway through," the tunnel said. "But you'll have trouble getting past the cave-in ahead."

"Cave-in!" Irene squealed. She tended to panic in a crisis.

"Oh, sure," the tunnel said. "No way around."

In a moment, with the water ankle-deep and rising, they encountered it—a mass of rubble that sealed the passage.

"Me bash this trash," Smash said helpfully.

"Um, wait," Dor cautioned. "We don't want to bring the whole ocean in on us in one swoop. Maybe if Chet reduces the pieces to pebbles, while Smash supports the ceiling—"

"Still won't hold," Chet said. "The dynamics are wrong. We need an arch."

"Me shape escape," Smash offered. He started to fashion an arch from stray chunks of stone. But more chunks rolled down to splash in the deepening water as he took each one.

"Maybe I can stabilize it," Irene said. She found a seed and dropped it in the water. "Grow."

The plant tried, but there was not enough light. Dor shone his sunstone on it; then the plant prospered. That was all it needed; Jewel's gift was proving useful!

Soon there was a leafy kudzu taking form. Tendrils dug into the sand; vines enclosed the rocks, and green leaves covered the wall of the tunnel. Now Smash could not readily dislodge the stones he needed to complete his arch without hurting the plant.

"I believe we can make it without the arch," Chet said. "The plant has secured the debris." He touched a stone, reducing it to a pebble, then touched others. Soon the tunnel was restored, the passage clear to the end.

But the delay had been costly. The water was now knee deep. They splashed onward.

Fortunately, they were at the nadir. As they marched up the far slope, the water's depth diminished. But they knew this was a temporary respite; before long the entire tunnel would be filled.