Heaven Cent (10 page)

“I know the royal family,” Chex said. “I took Princess Ivy on a trip to Centaur Isle, not long after I met you. I became responsible for helping Dolph the moment I learned about his predicament. I am sure that one reason his parents delayed their action was because they knew I was on the way. I suspect they are watching us now, via the Tapestry, to be sure that we are not leaving Dolph to his fate.”

Marrow realized that was true. If the Tapestry had been oriented on Dolph before, it must still be watching him, and another part of it would be watching Marrow. Queen Irene had not expected Dolph to get beyond the Good Magician's castle, but had insisted on an adult companion, just in case. That “in case” had happened. Now she was surely keeping nervous track, just in case worse happened. She was trying to allow her son as much freedom and adventure as he was competent to handle, and not half a whit more.

“But you said the Queen would not rescue Dolph unless he was in real danger,” Grace’l said.

“She would naturally prefer him to make his own escape, in the princely way,” Chex said. “But failing that, she would want him rescued by his friends. If that also failed, then she would have to take action and make the King do something. Certainly she will not let him be lost to a merwoman. The fact that she has not yet taken action only means that Dolph is in no immediate danger, that allows time for him or the rest of us to do something.”

Marrow thought about Queen Irene. He concluded that Chex was right. That was the way the Queen operated. She would stay in the background if she could, just as she did when King Dor was making policy, but she would see that things worked out. It would be better to make sure mat she never had to act.

“We had better get started, then,” he said. “What was wrong with my prior plan?”

“I did not criticize it,” Chex protested.

“But you are a centaur. Your analytical mind criticizes everything.”

“True. But I did not hear it, so I could not have critiqued it.”

Now he remembered: he had mentioned his plan to Grace’l while Chex was looking for the gourd. “I intend to walk under the sea, search for the merwoman's lair, and take Dolph out. What is wrong with that?”

“Everything!” the centaur exclaimed. “First, your walk under the sea will be very slow, because of the resistance of the water. Second, it will take you forever to locate the merwoman's lair, because it could be anywhere in this vicinity of the sea. Third, if you do locate it, the merwoman will surely see you coming and will act to prevent you from approaching. She would send dogfish against you to chew your bones, or a kraken to pull them asunder. Fourth, if you did reach her lair, you would not be able to take Dolph from it without drowning him, because merfolk have water-breathing magic that operates only in their-presence or in their lairs. Fifth, if you managed to get around that, he still might not want to go, and might refuse to go with you. You could not make him go against his will, because he would change into some monstrous form you could not budge. Thus your effort would be doomed.”

Marrow pondered. Those seemed like pretty good objections. But he knew how to get around them. “How can we counter these things?” For a centaur seldom posed questions to which that centaur did not already know the answers. That quality derived from their generations of experience as tutors.

“I'm so glad you asked,” Chex said with a half smile. “The first and second problems may be tackled together. You must locate the lair from above the water, then descend quickly to it. That also minimizes the third problem, because it provides the merwoman very little time to spot you or to act against you. You can alleviate the fourth problem by taking air down with you, for Dolph to breathe. I believe there should be some air plants growing in this area; one or two of them should do nicely. The fifth problem will depend on your verbal skills: you may have to persuade Dolph to leave. I hope you are up to it.”

“I think you would be better at that,” Marrow said.

“Indubitably. But I can not go below the water. The pressure of the deep water would crush me, if I were able to get down there at all. Only you, with your tough bare bones, can do it.”

“How can we locate the lair?” Grace’l asked.

“I thought I might fly over the water, as the weather clears, and see what I can see. Certainly I can carry you to the site, if we locate it.”

“I got a look at that water, when we capsized,” Grace’l said. “Even below the roiling surface, it was dark; I could not see to the bottom.”

Chex nodded. “I am afraid I had not thought that aspect through. Certainly the merwoman would not have her lair in any obvious place, anyway; she would adapt a cave or use other concealment. We shall have to devise some other way.”

Marrow picked up Dolph's knapsack. “Maybe the magic mirror will help.”

“You have a magic mirror?” Chex asked. “That should be just what we need!”

Marrow brought out the little hand mirror. “I am not sure. Few mirrors can actually locate things; they must communicate with known sites.”

“That is true,” Chex said. “But it is my thought that with this one we can communicate with Castle Roogna, where they will know Dolph's location—” She broke off.

“And they won't want to get involved,” Marrow concluded, remembering. “Because they want Dolph to make his own escape, or at least to have his friends help him. Still, we might look at the Tapestry.”

He directed the mirror to tune in on Castle Roogna. Sure enough, there was the Tapestry, and there was Dolph with the merwoman. They were eating a meal, and by the distasteful expression on the boy's face, it was a nutritious one. She was evidently not plying him with sea candy, which might be a tactical error on her part.

“How pretty!” Grace’l exclaimed, noting the colored stones and circles of gold. “She has excellent taste.”

Marrow's gaze was on the merwoman. He had not seen her at all well during the storm, but now it was clear that she was as robustly endowed as Vida Vila. Were he a mortal man, he would be quite impressed. Dolph was a child, but it might not be wise to leave him too long to the blandishments of such a creature. It had been evident that Vida Vila was beginning to make an impression on him, and the merwoman seemed to have similar potential.

“That is under a canopy,” Chex said. “See, the sea trees arch up to close overhead. That lair will be invisible from above, even if the water is absolutely clear.”

“And there seem to be no hints as to its location,” Grace’l said. “We shall have to find another way.”

Chex considered. “Perhaps we could use one of the local plants to help us orient. If there is some witch hazel—”

“But we can't speak the language of plants,” Marrow protested.

“Even so, we can learn something from them. If we give the witch hazel something of Prince Dolph's to smell, its leaves will orient on him, and we can tell the direction from that.”

“How clever!” Grace’l exclaimed. “But how can we tell how far in that direction the lair is?”

Chex glanced appreciatively at her. "I can tell you weren't constructed yesterday. We shall have to find two witch hazels, set some distance apart, and use the generalized magic of triangulation to find the distance.”

Marrow knew of that. Triangulation was another fundamental type of magic that was said to extend even to Mundania, in the manner of insult magic or rainbows. It was odd how some magic was everywhere, and some was only in Xanth; the rules seemed to be inconsistent.

They explored the region, and finally managed to find a witch hazel plant. They gave it the pack to sniff, and sure enough, soon its leaves twisted about to orient toward the sea, as if the sun were shining from that region. Marrow drew a line in the dirt and sand, showing the direction.

Then they looked for another witch hazel plant—and could not find it. They searched both north and south, as far as was feasible: no other plants. This was most frustrating. Was their effort to founder on this mischance?

They looked in the mirror again, as darkness closed, and saw that Dolph was still being well treated. The merwoman had made him a floating bed of pillows, and he was sleeping comfortably among them. At least they knew that he wasn't in any immediate trouble—but that itself was another kind of trouble, because it would make him increasingly satisfied to remain with the merwoman. He was at an impressionable age.

“We shall simply have to resume our search in the morning,” Chex said unhappily. “I had hoped to handle this more expeditiously.”

“What else have you to do?” Grace’l inquired.

"The Monsters of the Air are going to have a ceremony atop Mount Rushmost, and I don't want to be late.”

“Isn't Prince Dolph's welfare more important than a ceremony?” Marrow inquired.

“Yes, of course it is,” she replied, flushing passingly. The color passed across her face and breasts and disappeared into her equine hide, like a cloud casting its shadow briefly across the landscape. “Still, I hope we can effect the rescue in the morning.”

Chex foraged for some fruit, while the two skeletons simply lay on the ground, needing no food. They did not need rest either, but since Chex did, it seemed only courteous to do it.

The centaur slept on her feet, her wings furled, one ear cocked to the wind. Obviously no one would sneak up on her during the night.

Then it occurred to Marrow that he could put the nocturnal hours to better use by searching for that second witch hazel plant. So he lifted his bones quietly—and discovered Grace’l doing the same thing. She had had the same thought!

Wordlessly they separated, searching north and south. They could see fairly well in the dark, because they did not use inefficient living eyeballs.

As dawn approached, Marrow returned, having found nothing. Soon Grace’l appeared. She touched his arm bone and tapped once: she had found something! Then they both lay down in the places they had left, so as to be there undisturbed when Chex woke.

In due course she stirred. She plucked some more fruit, ate it, attended to the other natural functions mat living creatures were afflicted with, and was ready to resume me search. “There must be something!” she said.

“Perhaps there is,” Grace’l said. “Does the second plant have to be a witch hazel?”

“Well, we do need two plants, or the triangulation magic doesn't work. I'm not sure what else—”

“Would an arrowroot do?”

"Why yes, it would! But I didn't see any of them, either.*'

“I seem to remember seeing one,” Grace’l said. “Perhaps I am mistaken.”

That was possible, Marrow realized. She had not been in this realm long, and would not know all the plants. Yet there was vegetation in the gourd realm too, and arrowroot was part of it; they used the arrows for barbs in bad dreams.

They followed her to the plant, and it was an arrowroot. They let it smell the knapsack, then waited while its roots adjusted. One arrowhead poked out of the ground, pointing the direction. They had their second line!

They extended the two lines to the water, and judged where they intersected. That would be where the lair was, under the water. They had the location; now all they needed was the air plant. It took only a moment to fetch that.

“Remember, I can not help you once you enter the water,“ Chex warned them. ”I will watch you via the mirror, so that I know when to haul you up, but if anything goes wrong, I can not come after you."

"We can handle it,” Marrow said, hoping that was the case. If the merwoman sent big fish to haul them away, their whole plan would be in trouble. But what else was there to do but try?

He and Grace’l climbed into the net, and Chex tucked the mirror into the top of her mane where she could recover it readily. Then she flicked the net with her tail, making it lighter. She grasped the ends of the net in both hands, flicked herself, spread her wings, and took off. She had to struggle to carry them, but there was reason for not making them lighter.

She carried them to the spot where the two lines crossed. She hovered while Marrow and Grace’l climbed out of the net and dropped into the water. Then she winged back to the beach. She would gather some heavy rocks there, that she could use to weight the net and carry it to the bottom, when it was time to pick them up.

Marrow and Grace’l held bone hands as they plunged down. When they had been in the form of a boat and sail, they had floated, because a boat was designed to float, even when capsized. Now they were in normal form, and that did not float. Had Chex flicked them with her tail to make them lighter, they would have floated, and that would have been no good for this. As it was, they were slowed somewhat by the buoyant air plant.

Marrow watched nervously for big fish but saw none. Would they catch the merwoman by surprise? That would be wonderful! But it was as likely that she was merely preparing worse things for them below.

They reached thick seaweed growing at the bottom, and sank through it. Now they were in a forest of the stuff, with sea trees, sea bushes, and sea grass. It could almost be taken for a landside jungle or a setting in the gourd, except for the small fish swimming through it.

They peered around, not bothered by the darkness here any more than by that of night, and in a moment spotted the canopy of the merwoman's lair. The directions had been true, and now they could rescue Dolph—if the merwoman did not stop them.

Grace’l stayed back, and Marrow stepped through the wall, braced for anything. If anything happened to him, she would try to escape. She might be able to accomplish what he could not, if the merwoman did not know of her presence. That was the remainder of the plan. She had the air plant, so that once Marrow knew it was all right, they could get Dolph to the surface without drowning him.

There was the merwoman, hovering without moving. She was staring at something on the sea floor, and she did not even look up as Marrow entered. This was very strange!

Then he saw what she was staring at. It was a hypnogourd! No wonder she did not react to him; no mortal creature reacted to anything, as long as he or she was staring into the peephole of a gourd. Only the gourd folk themselves were immune, because the gourd was their natural habitat. They did not stare into the gourd, they entered it.