Currant Events (25 page)

 “Dragons! I don't want to mess
with them.”

 “Small, I said.” Sherlock
took Drusie from his pocket and presented her to the mermaid. “Meet Drusie
Dragon.”

 Yeta laughed. “Oh, you meant tiny!
And pink. How cute.”

 Drusie jetted some steam in her
direction, not far enough to burn her. “We are telepathic.”

 “Oh, I'm going to kiss you!”
The mermaid moved forward with a stroke of her tail and kissed Drusie on the
snout. “Sorry about that; I'm just so impulsive and dramatic, and I love
anything weird or crazy. Not that you are, of course.”

 “Of course,” Drusie agreed.
It was clear that the mermaid liked the little dragon precisely because she
seemed weird or crazy.

 “Still want to dip?” Clio
asked Sherlock teasingly.

 “With a dramatic mermaid? I know
better.”

 “Well, some say a mermaid has all
the good parts of a woman and none of the bad parts.”

 “I want the bad parts too.”

 “I heard that!” Yeta called,
laughing. “Come on in, you and the dragons. The river's big enough.”

 “She looks young,” Sherlock
said.

 She did, but Clio really wanted to cool
off. So she did something that in some quarters might be considered unethical.
“How old are you, Yeta?”

 “Fifty-four!”

 Clio turned to Sherlock. “See?
She's old enough.”

 “How many decades did she add to
her real age?” Sherlock asked Drusie. “Four?”

 “Don't answer that!” Clio
said. “We won't question anyone's word.”

 Yeta laughed again, as she did so
readily. “I love acting on the spur of the moment. Don't you?”

 “Yes,” Clio said. She set
Panion upright on the bank so she could see what went on, took off her clothes,
and jumped into the water. It was delightfully cold. In a moment Sherlock
joined her, compromising only by leaving his undershorts on. The dragons dived
in too. They had a fine splashing contest and got thoroughly cool.

 But soon they had to move on.
“Bye!” Yeta called as they resumed their walk. “It's been
fun!”

 And, indeed, it had been fun. “I'm
glad we did that,” Clio said. “I haven't done anything like it in
ages. I mean, not for fun. Ghastly poop washing doesn't count.”

 “Neither have I,” Sherlock
said, laughing. “Though I do have wet undershorts.”

 Clio tried to think of a smart remark,
but couldn't. The mermaid surely was underage, and a completely naked man was
banned by the Conspiracy.

 The bell sounded. 'Why was it fun?

 By the time they explained that, they
were well along the way, and it was time to camp. They foraged for wood and
food, made a fire, and settled down to enjoy the evening repast.

 “What's that?” Clio asked as
she saw something amidst the pies and fruit.

 “Why that's bread. There's a
breadfruit tree nearby.”

 “That's pun-kin bread! With
pun-kin seeds on top.”

 “So?”

 “So anyone who eats that will emit
egregious puns all evening.”

 The bell sounded. 'What's a pun?

 “Oh, my, has your education been
neglected!” Clio exclaimed.

 Sherlock took a bite of the bread.
“Did I ever tell you about my two aunts? Auntie Biotic always made me feel
well when I was ill, and Auntie Septic made me very clean.”

 “You ate the pun-kin bread,”
Clio said. “Now you're emitting puns.”

 He laughed. “Actually I nullified
it with a chip.” He showed the chip of reverse wood. “I feel quite
serious.”

 “You were teasing me.”

 “Or Panion. Puns are best
appreciated in action.”

 She leaned across and kissed him on the
cheek. Then she realized what she had done. “Oh, my! I'm getting
impulsive.”

 “Like the mermaid. It's
contagious.”

 “It must be.” Then she got to
work explaining the nature of puns to Panion, who had trouble getting it.

 As she settled down to sleep, with
Panion set in a makeshift crib, the dragons searching out bugs to toast, and
Sherlock at a decorous distance, Clio realized that she had enjoyed herself
more this day than in any prior time she could remember. For the first time in
decades she felt truly alive, though all this living in real time was
inevitably bringing her closer to that dreaded fate of youthful death. Maybe it
was that she truly wanted to experience the passions of life before she lost
her life, so was being very free. Or maybe she just liked the company.

 In the morning they resumed travel,
refreshed. Soon they reached the Gap Chasm. “This would seem to be a
challenge,” Sherlock remarked.

 “We'll cross the invisible
bridge.”

 “Of course.”

 She knew where it was, having written
about it many times. Still, it was awesome stepping out over the immense abyss
that was the Gap with no seeming support. She suffered the ridiculous notion
that someone might be down there, peering up under her skirt. She knew it was
ridiculous, because what man would have an interest in doing that, now that her
curves were gone? Still, she felt exposed, and was relieved when a small cloud
passed beneath them, obscuring the ground below.

 They reached the far side. “Now we
bear right, down the cliff.”

 “But there's no path!”

 “There's an invisible path, or
rather, one covered over by illusion.” She demonstrated, feeling carefully
with her feet. Soon she was walking knee-deep in apparent rock.

 “We see it too!” Drew
exclaimed. “That's nice illusion.”

 I can change it,Panion scripted. And
the illusion vanished, showing the ledge-path as it really was.

 So the baby machine did have the same
ability the adult machines had. But this was not the place. “Put it
back,” Clio said firmly. “This is supposed to be concealed.”

 Awww.But the illusion reappeared.

 “Why hide a path into the
chasm?” Sherlock asked.

 “Because it's really a path
elsewhere, and we don't want just anybody using it. You'll see.”

 They moved on down into deeper
illusion, until it closed over their heads like a canopy. They came to the face
of a building set into the stone cliff. Clio raised a knuckle and knocked on
the door.

 It opened. A rather homely young woman
stood there. “Who-” Her eyes widened. “Can it be?”

 “Clio, the Muse of History,”
Clio agreed. “With Sherlock of the Black Wave. I believe we have business
with you, Cube.”

 “Then come in. You couldn't have
found us by accident.”

 “It does seem unlikely.”

 There were three others in the stone
building. Cube introduced them: “Ryver, my fiance. Cory, and Tessa.”
Then, to her companions: “This is the Muse of History, and Sherlock.”

 “Welcome,” Ryver said. He was
an uncommonly handsome young man. It would have been hard to imagine what he
saw in Cube, had Clio not known their story.

 “I am actually traveling with
three others,” Clio said, “two small dragons and a baby machine:
Drew, Drusie, and Panion, the daughter of Pewter and Passion.” She showed
Panion, whose screen turned pink. “She can change reality in her vicinity,
but I have asked her not to do that here. The dragons are telepathic, so will
seem to speak to you by touching your minds.”

 “Hello, folk,” Drew said,
poking his snout out of Clio's pocket.

 “Oh, how cute!” Cube said.
“May I hold you?”

 What was it about girls and dragons?

 Drew consented to be held in the girl's
hands. “You summon nick-elpedes?”

 “Yes. Here's one.” A
nickelpede appeared before him. “But you know, we have a dragon of our own
here, a big one. Well, not exactly here at the moment, but Drek Dragon is part
of our operation.” She glanced at Clio. “You are going on to Counter
Xanth?”

 “It seems we are,” Clio
agreed.

 “Then Cory and Tessa will take you
there. You know about sidestepping?”

 “I do.” That was a special
interdimensional mode of passage that only the two women could manage. Cory was
a tall woman, taller than any of the rest of them, while Tessa was shorter than
the others. How they had come to be close friends was another story, safely
sealed in another volume of history.

 “So nice to meet you, Drew, you
handsome blue-eyed rascal,” Cube said, giving him back to Clio. “Be
sure to meet Drek; he doesn't see many other dragons. There's been a mysterious
shortage.”

 “Not anymore,” Clio said.
“Xanth is being restocked.”

 The two women took their hands and
brought them into the stone. Sherlock stared.

 “It is sidestepping,” Tessa
explained. “We step sidewise into a parallel realm, which forms a kind of
shortcut to where we are going. It is safe, but do stay in the aisle.”

 They formed a small procession, with
Cory leading and Tessa at the end. There wasn't anything to see; it was just
rock all around, though it didn't get in their way.

 Then they came to an open region that
was somehow different. Clio was silent, letting Sherlock discover it for
himself. “Where's the Gap Chasm?”

 “This is it,” Clio said,
gesturing at the huge mountain range behind them. “Reversed.”

 He stared, appreciating it. “As tall
as the Gap is deep! Now I understand what you meant about a different kind of
reversal. I love it.”

 “That's just the beginning,”
Cory said. “Ah, here come Drek and Kay.” Two centaurs were galloping
toward them.

 “That's not her name,” Drew
said to Clio.

 “But that's the name we'll use for
her.”

 “Drek is not a centaur,”
Drusie said. “He's a dragon.”

 “But he was able to save a
reversal, in this case an exchange of forms,” Clio said. “Sometimes
Kay becomes a dragon.”

 “This realm feels like home,”
Sherlock said. “There's just something about it.”

 The centaur arrived. “Hello,”
Kay said. “It is nice to have settlers.” She had large white wings,
brown flanks and tail, and copious fair hair and face.

 “These aren't regular
settlers,” Tessa said. “This is Clio, the Muse of History, and her
companion Sherlock of the Black Wave. They have special business here.”

 “Will this be within established
parameters?” Kay asked.

 “That seems unlikely,” Clio
said.

 “Then we had better come
along,” Tessa said. “Is it likely to be far?”

 “I don't know, but fear it could
be.”

 “Then you will need to ride. I can
carry one.” She turned to the other centaur. “Drek, you'll have to
revert.”

 Drek nodded and started away.

 “If you have to go somewhere to do
it,” Sherlock said, “maybe I can save you the trouble. Would reverse
wood do it?”

 Drek considered, then returned.
Sherlock touched him with a chip, and suddenly the centaur became a sizable
dragon. He had a large head with a long green snout, myriad teeth, big eyes,
and small ears. Taken as a whole, he was not a handsome creature. But he was
large enough to carry several people.

 They discussed it, and decided to have
Clio ride on Kay, while Sherlock, Drusie, Cory, and Tessa rode on Drek. Drew
and Panion remained with Clio.

 “You have a guide to what you
seek?” Kay asked.

 “I have a compass with a blue
arrow that points my way.” Clio looked at it. “That way.”

 “Through the Gap Range,” the
centaur agreed.

 “Oh, I forgot! We can't just cross
the invisible bridge again. How will we ever get over such towering
mountains?”

 Kay laughed. “We sidestep.
Actually Cory and Tessa have made a number of permanent aisles for us to use;
they found they can do that here. See, the invisible tunnel is marked.”

 Clio saw: a line had been drawn on the
sheer face of the rising cliff, showing an entrance. It seemed to be straight
stone there, but the centaur blithely trotted into it without impact. They were
in a tunnel illuminated every so often by blobs of glowing fungus.

 “Oh, Karia, that's
marvelous!” Clio said.

 The centaur's hooves lost contact with
the floor. She drifted in the dark air. She wasn't flying; her wings remained
furled. She was just aimlessly floating.

 “We seem to have a problem,”
Drew remarked.

 “Oh, I forgot another thing,”
Clio said, chagrined. “I called her by her real name, and she got carried
away. That's her curse of a talent.” She slapped the centaur on the flank.
“Kay! Snap to!”

 The hooves dropped to the floor.
“Oh, did I do it again? I'm sorry.”

 “My fault,” Clio said.
“I know your name, and I used it. I'll try not to do that again.”

 “That's best,” the centaur
agreed. “Nobody knows my name here, other than my friends, and they don't
use it.”