Swell Foop (12 page)

They went toward it, but the closer they got, the smaller it became. By the time they reached it, it was tiny. "What happened?" Ida asked.

"Now I recognize it," Cassaundra said, disgusted. "It's a shrinking violet."

Unpun groaned again.

Something came running toward them. It was a giant eyeball with long skinny legs. It stopped and gazed intently at them. "What is this?" Justin asked.

"I'm not sure," Cassaunova said. "I haven't seen this particular pun before."

"It is the eye of the beholder," Unpun said. "I find no humor whatsoever."

"That is your irony," Cassaundra said.

"You should not have said that," Cassaunova said warily.

She put a hand to her mouth. "I forgot where I was! Maybe they didn't hear."

"They heard."

A group of small metal forms floated toward them. "We had better get out of here!" Cassaundra said, alarmed.

The centaurs leaped—but turned back toward the center of the comic strip. "Too late," Cassaunova said despairingly.

"Why didn't you leave?" Justin asked.

"We can't. Those are iron E's—they reverse whatever we try to do."

"Ironies!" Justin exclaimed. "Lovely."

"But won't they interfere with our mission?" Ida asked. "We can't accomplish it while being constantly reversed."

"Not so," Justin said. "They will enable us to readily accomplish it."

The others looked at him, evidently uncertain of his sanity. "You are aware of something we are not?" Cassaunova inquired.

"Merely common sense. We must strive our utmost to avoid the punkin patch."

"To
avoid
it?" Ida asked.

"Yes. We must get far away from it immediately. Now run; flee it."

"As you wish," the centaur said dubiously.

They tried to run out of the comic strip—and there before them was a big pumpkin patch. Or rather, the pun-kin patch. They had found it.

"Irony!" Ida exclaimed. "The opposite of the stated intent! I forgot."

"Irony brought us here," Cassaundra agreed, surprised. "We all missed it."

"Merely common sense, as I said," Justin said, a trifle smugly. "There is generally a way to accomplish one's goal, if one takes the correct approach."

"But where is Punny?" Ida asked.

They all looked, and saw only pun-kins of all different sizes. No people.

"She isn't here," Justin said, disappointed.

"But she must be," Ida said.

Then Justin got another idea. "Unpun."

"Leave me out of this!"

"Where do you want to go?"

"That way," Unpun said, pointing.

"So it must be the opposite way," Justin said. "Another kind of irony." He marched the opposite way.

But all he found was a pile of funny papers surrounded by tiny punkins. No woman.

Unless—

He picked up one of the funny papers. There was the cartoon figure of a woman. "Hello, Punny!" he said.

"Oh, you found me," the cartoon picture said. "I was trying to hide, because my life is not worthwhile without love."

"Your love is here," Justin said. "Give me the Ring of Idea, and I will restore him to you."

"But he's dead!"

"The Ring will restore him."

"So it can," the picture agreed. "But only if wielded by the chosen user."

"I believe I am that one."

"Oh. In that case, try it." The figure lifted her hand, where a Ring was marked.

Justin somewhat dubiously put his fingers to her paper hand and touched the Ring. To his surprise it came free, and was a regular physical Ring. He put it on his little left finger, and it fit comfortably.

But was it the real Ring of Idea? Did it have the phenomenal magic power attributed to it? He needed to be sure. "Unpun, let's see what this can do," he said.

For once the zombie did not balk. Justin approached him. "I am not sure of the protocol of operation," Justin said. "Do I invoke it, or what?"

"Just think of the Ring as you speak," Ida said. "Will it to make your idea real. Unlike my own talent, you can originate your ideas for reality yourself, knowing the Ring's power. It can make anything happen in this realm, and is not without impact in Xanth proper. Do not abuse its authority."

"I wouldn't think of it," Justin said. "But I think restoring Unpun to life should not represent an abuse."

"Definitely not," Cassaunova said, moving a forefoot to avoid a punkin that was sprouting beneath it.

"Very well." Justin thought of the Ring of Idea, and spoke. "Unpun, return to full life and humor, your talent complete."

Just like that, Unpun straightened up, his ragged clothing mending, his face and body becoming halfway handsome. The pun-kins around him sagged as if cooked, shrinking to mottled buttons. His talent was manifesting.

"Oh, Unpun, you're back!" Punny exclaimed, stepping out of the funny paper and becoming fully real. Except for her little hat, which remained paper. She ran to hug him.

"I'd rather have a paper doll," Unpun said, holding back.

"You can't be serious!"

"Of course I'm not serious!" he said, laughing. "You look hilarious in that stupid paper hat." But as he spoke, the hat warped and fuzzed out.

"It must have been a pun of some kind," Punny said as she kissed him. "Oh, Unpun, let's go back to Xanth now."

"Of course."

Cassaundra turned to Cassaunova. "Isn't that just the most romantic thing?" she asked him.

"Yes."

She kissed him. "Let's carry these good folk wherever they're going, then see whether we can devise something similarly romantic."

The male centaur glanced at Justin. "By all means."

"We can depart from here," Ida said. "But there is something I must clarify first."

"There's a complication?" Punny asked, alarmed.

"Only a small one. What you just gave Justin is merely the soul of the Ring of Idea. There are no physical things here, merely their souls. The physical Ring is in Xanth, and it must be found so that Justin can wear it and use it."

"Another search?" Justin asked, discomfited.

"I'm sure you can readily find it, now that you have its soul. Simply maintain your awareness of it as we return."

"Gladly." Justin turned to the centaurs. "I thank you for your kind assistance, and—" He broke off, for they weren't listening. Catarrh had already departed, and the other two were kissing again.

"I think you started something," Ida said.

"Perhaps so," Justin agreed, thinking of Breanna. How he wanted to be back with her!

"Shall we return?" Ida inquired.

"By all means," Justin agreed.

"My body is in a closed chamber next to Princess Ida's room," Punny told Unpun. "I will come to join you the moment I wake."

"Now let your substance expand into mist," Ida said. "And orient on my body in Xanth."

Justin concentrated on diffusion, and soon felt himself dissipating. He expanded right out of the pun-kin patch, the comic strip, and the region of the surface of Ptero. He floated hugely over that world, like a cloud, and saw three other clouds similarly forming: Ida, Unpun, and Punny.

He looked around, and saw the gigantic head of Princess Ida, about which this whole world orbited. He went for it, still expanding. The other clouds paced him.

They came to their sleeping bodies. Three were in one room, and one in another room. But where was the Ring?

Then he felt a tingle at his diffuse finger. The soul of the Ring knew where its body was. That would guide him.

They reached their bodies and dived in. It took two and a half moments to recover full alertness.

"Oh, that was wonderful!" Princess Ida said. "For the first time I experienced Ptero myself! I must do it again soon."

Unpun stirred. "I must find Punny."

"And I must find the Ring of Idea," Justin said.

"This way, I'm sure," Ida said, opening a door.

In the chamber beyond was a young woman just sitting up. Unpun hurried to help her. Justin focused on his finger, and it guided him to the pallet on which the woman sat. Underneath it, in a clump of dust that had evidently been undisturbed for a long time, was the Ring. He picked it up, brushed it off, and put it on.

"Now do me physically," Unpun said, and Justin realized that he was a zombie again. So he quickly repeated his directive, with the Ring in mind, and Unpun made the same transformation he had on Ptero.

"Thank you," the fully living Unpun said.

Justin nodded. But privately he was amazed at the power of the Ring. It could actually restore a zombie! That was surely not the limit of its power. Yet it was one of six required merely to locate and control the Swell Foop. What a device that must be!

Cynthia saw the others pairing off and departing, so she looked for her own zombie. She spied one sitting in a pool of stagnant water. She was female, according to her upper torso, but her legs seemed to be fused. A zombie mermaid!

Cynthia was mildly partial to crossbreeds, having become one herself, so she approached this one. "You know of a Ring of Xanth?"

"Yez."

"I am Cynthia Centaur. Who are you?"

"Zilche Zzombie."

"I was once human. You were a mermaid?"

"Yez."

"What Ring do you know of?"

"The Ringg of Washer."

"The Ring of Water," Cynthia repeated, getting it straight. "Where is it?"

"Ze pulsh ze zing."

Cynthia had to ponder that for much of a moment. Then she got it. "The pool's the thing?"

"Nosh eggazly."

Cynthia pondered again. "Or more precisely, the Brain Coral's Pool," she concluded. "The Brain Coral might reasonably be construed as governing the Region of Water, so that makes sense." She looked down at the zombie. "But that's still very general. I will need your help to locate its specific site. I will have to carry you. Let's see how that can be done."

She looked around, and spied some netting. It had probably been used to bring the mermaid here. She picked it up and fashioned it into a bag. She tied the bag to her body, so that it was against her right side: The mermaid could ride side-saddle. It would have to do.

"I will carry you to the pool," she said. "The trip will not take long, so your tail should not get too dry." She put her hands under Zilche's arms and lifted her up to the net bag. The zombie fit there comfortably enough, assuming that zombies were capable of discomfort.

Then Cynthia flicked them both, spread her wings, and took off. In a brief duration and two moments she was flying above the trees. She oriented, and headed for a little-known mountain.

"Wwhare?" Zilche asked.

"Oh, you are wondering how I expect to reach an underground pool by flying through the air? That is an excellent question. You see, I was confined in the Brain Coral's Pool for seventy-two years, ashamed of my condition, having been human for the first sweet sixteen years of my life. For most of that time I was unconscious, by my own choice, though on occasion I did circulate and make some friends among the other detainees. I noticed that there was an air pocket above the pool, and I wondered how it remained fresh. So later, when I was studying centaur information, I researched that, and learned that there is an air pipe leading from the pool to the surface. Very few folk know of it, but I ferreted out its location, and now I shall use it to descend to the pool." She was rather pleased with herself for finding a use for what had seemed to be useless information.

The flight was not as easy as she had hoped, because she encountered cross winds. They irritably buffeted her back and forth, so that she had to descend to tree level to avoid them. She came perilously close to a tangle tree, and even brushed its tentacles, but they did not grab her. That was a relief, but odd.

Then she saw that there were no bones around the tree. It was a faux tangler—an imitation, innocuous, but safe from predation because of its protective camouflage. Good for it! She made a mental note of its location, because if she ever needed a safe place to sleep in this area, this was it.

Then she saw a sign: SUN GLARE AHEAD. Sure enough, in a moment the sun formed a face and glared villainously at her. Fortunately that didn't last; once she got past that section, the sun returned to its normal favor.

She had gotten past the cross winds, so was able to rise back above the forest. That was really more comfortable. Had she had the magic talent of her friend Daniel, she would have been able to talk to the wind and have it obey her wish. But of course she would never trade that for her ability to fly.

They flew over one of her favorite regions: the retreat for centaur crossbreeds who were excluded from association with normal centaurs. They had made their own home, and their population was growing. There were centaurs with the bodies of felines, deer, zebras, oryx, and others; there seemed to be no limit to their variations, and each was beautiful in his or her own right. She waved and dipped her wings, and several of them waved back; they knew she accepted them.

She came to the obscure mountain, and circled until she spied the truly obscure peak that concealed the pipe: Pipe's Peek. She descended rapidly toward it.

"Crazsh!" the zombie exclaimed, alarmed.

"By no means. Pipe's Peek is illusion, invisible from the air." She continued her descent, dropped into the surface of the mountain, and passed through the illusion into the air pipe. Now they were in a vertical tunnel, still dropping. Little illusion glow-worms lined its sides, so that it was easy to follow; the Brain Coral had taken this intelligent precaution to ensure that the air did not get lost.

Way, way down in the depths the air pipe opened onto the deep subterranean lake that was the Brain Coral's Pool. Cynthia felt two tingles and a twinge of nostalgia for this familiar locale. She had come here for oblivion when she thought herself transformed into a monster. But seven decades of consideration had reconciled her to her situation, and now she was happy to be a winged monster, and wouldn't trade it. In fact, straight human people seemed somewhat inadequate, with their small physiques and lack of wings, not to mention their limited intellects and hang-ups about natural functions. But of course she wouldn't say that to any of them; it would not be polite. After all, some of her best friends were human. She thought of Magician Trent, and that brought two-thirds of a tremor of wistful longing. She had had more than half a crush on him at one time, as had her friend Gloha Gobliness; he was a fine man, and extremely attractive in his rejuvenated state. Oh, she loved Che Centaur, she truly did, but if by some misadventure she were ever to find herself fully human again and alone with Trent, in some dark cave with survival uncertain, and no one would ever know . . . she would refuse responsibility for any consequences.

She landed on a little rocky beach and folded her wings. There stood a handsome oxlike antelope with a big nose. "Cynthia!" he exclaimed, recognizing her.

She sighed inwardly. This was another friend, Watt's Gnu, who was nice enough, but very nosy. He always had to learn of everything that had happened in the past day, and would not relent until he had it. But he didn't remember anything beyond a day. She didn't have time for that right now. So she did something a trifle unkind. "My friend Zilche will catch you up in just a moment." Then, to the mermaid: "Just tell him all about our mission."

Now how would she locate the Ring of Water? It would be useless to search for it by herself; the pool was larger than it seemed, and crowded with guests (few could leave by choice, but they weren't exactly prisoners), many of whom would not care to cooperate. The Sea Hag, who had escaped the pool last year, was not the only obnoxious denizen in cool storage there. She could search for half of forever before finding it. So she would have to ask someone. The Brain Coral itself was not much of a talker, but she had friends here. Who would be likely to know?

A watery bulb flashed over her head. "Jackson!" she exclaimed. He was the official inventory taker for the Brain Coral, so knew where everything was.

In a moment a head broke water. "Cynthia!" he exclaimed. "Are you giving up on worldly Xanth?"

"Jackson! How are you? No, I'm here on brief business."

"Pleasure before business," he said. "Come in and give me a hug, you fantastic creature."

"Gladly." She set Zilche in the shallow water, where she could be comfortable while talking with Watt's Gnu, then waded deeper until she was chest deep. It felt good against her hide, because of its preservative quality. Jackson swam up to join her. He was a merman, with a history roughly similar to hers: He had been fully human, but had swum in a dangerous section of a river and been swallowed by a big fish. But the fish had a hunger bigger that its stomach, and was able to swallow only the lower half of the man. By the time it realized that, it had already digested Jackson's feet. Jackson could neither die nor escape. Finally they compromised, agreeing to merge, becoming a merman. Unfortunately the natural merfolk did not accept Jackson as one of them, considering him at best an imitation. Some species were like that; in fact, the centaurs were as purebred snotty as any, but by no means the only ones. Frustrated, isolated, he swam to the Brain Coral's Pool for storage until the issue could be resolved. Jackson had liked it, and had taken a job there.

They hugged, and Cynthia even added a chaste kiss. She understood as well as anyone what it meant to be neither fish nor fowl. They had been friends for decades, before she left the pool.

"You don't seem to have aged a bit," Jackson said. "I would swear by the feel of you that you are still sixteen, physically."

She released him and glanced down at the human portion of her torso. She had filled out rather well, if she did say so herself. "That's not surprising. I was rejuvenated to the physical age of eight, after I left here. That was eight years ago, so I am physically sixteen now, again."

"Why would you want to become eight?"

"To be suitable for Che Centaur. It is working out well. One year we shall marry, and our foals will breed true." She knew it was foolish, but she felt a small flush of pride at being able to make that statement. "Winged centaurs."

He glanced appraisingly at her body. "I'm jealous of him."

"Thank you."

"Now what is your business?"

"I need to find the Ring of Water. I believe it is somewhere in the pool."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"There's no such Ring here. I have inventoried everything, so am in a position to know. If you would like some opti or pessi mist spray to make you feel positive or negative, we have that. We have a fine brain eyeball, or a show-and-tell-a-vision box that lights up with a person's idea. We have a fine scarf that wraps around a person's neck and keeps it warm, though it eats too much."

"The scarf eats?"

"Voraciously. It has a high metabolism. It just gobbles food down in whole chunks, so that the person wearing it can hardly get a bite. That's why the scarf wound up being stored here despite its usefulness. We have many things. But no Ring."

"But there has to be! Zilche said—"

He glanced at the zombie, who was happily swimming nearby, having caught Watt's Gnu up. The water was good for her too. "What did you say, Zilche?"

"Ze pulsh ze zing."

"See?" Cynthia said. "The pool's the thing."

"That is not what I heard."

"Well, she is a zombie. Her pronunciation—"

"She said, 'The play's the thing.' Right, Zilche?"

The zombie nodded.

Cynthia was dismayed. "But that makes no sense! The Ring of Water should be in water, and it is natural that the Brain Coral would be in charge of it."

"Perhaps so, but the domain of water is hardly limited to the pool. There's the entire Region of Water."

"The Ring has power over that, so I don't think it would be there. My impression is that the Rings are somewhat apart from what they control, though I could be in error."

Jackson spoke again to the zombie. "Zilche, what play?"

"Ze cursh ffiendz pulsh."

"The curse fiend's play!" Cynthia exclaimed. The word "pulsh" still did not sound much like "play" to her, but the rest was clear enough. "I don't want to go there."

Jackson shrugged. "You are welcome to stay here."

She laughed. "No, I must be gone. Please relay my greetings to all my friends here."

"I shall. But you have many friends. Which ones were you thinking of?"

"Miss Erry, who loves company but somehow manages to alienate most folk. Miss Steppe, with her painful talent of falling down. And of course the relatives of MareAnn: SpartAnn, TrojAnn, HellAnn—"

"I will notify them all."

She hugged him again, then splashed out of the pool. "Come on, Zilche; we're off to the curse fiend's castle."

"She's a mermaid!" Jackson exclaimed, as if just realizing. "I had thought of her as a zombie."

"Zombie mermadz," Zilche clarified.

He studied her more closely. "You must have been a rather pretty creature, in life."

Zilche did her best to blush while trying to brush out her tangled hair. "Nod spezaly." She inhaled, accenting a well-formed bare bosom.

"Modest too. I like that."

"We have to go," Cynthia said impatiently.

They ignored her. "Zo handzum merrmum."

"Well, I'm only a half-reared merman. The real ones—"

"Handzum," she repeated, firmly for a zombie.

Jackson considered. "Do you know, the Brain Coral's Pool has some curative properties, to enable folk to remain healthy for decades or centuries while in storage. I have felt much better since settling here, despite having no companion of my type. I think you could be restored almost to the qualities you had in life, if you cared to reside here."

Zilche's eyes widened. "Zo wandz?"