Swell Foop (14 page)

One side of the hall was the great glass wall; surely no Ring hidden there. The other side was lined with doors. She peeked into the next chamber. Curse fiends—curse friends, as they called themselves—were busily searching everywhere. Good enough.

She walked on, checking other chambers. All were busy, until she came to one that was empty. It was evidently a theater that was not currently in use; stage props were stacked everywhere. She saw five statues of men and women set in a circle facing inward. "Circle of friends," she murmured, then reacted. "Horseflies! I'm still fathoming puns!"

Could the Ring be here? She saw no particular reason, as it could be anywhere in Gateway Castle. But it occurred to her that if she was destined to be the one to find and wield this Ring, then she would somehow be led to it. Perhaps there would be a psychic rapport.

She looked around, seeking rapport. Her eyes fell on a folded blanket. She picked it up, and saw that it was made from many little dots, each with four tiny hands that clasped the hands of other dots, forming an array that in its larger scope became the blanket.

"A dot matrix," she murmured, and winced as she realized she had done it again. "Founderhoofs! I've got to rid my brain of these puns so I can find the Ring!"

She closed her eyes and tried again. She tried to clear her mind of all punnish thoughts, focusing only on the Ring. And it seemed to work. The image of a circle formed, white and bright. Could she have found it?

She opened her eyes. There was the circle: a large ring of smooth white wood set on a box. Could that be it?

She walked to it—and caught the smell of manure. Suddenly she recognized the structure: It was one of the human refuse devices. A person would sit on it and deposit a clod of manure, then depart. Humans were exceedingly uptight about natural functions, and tried to conceal them whenever possible. Hence this unwieldy mechanism. When repeated uses filled the box, it would be emptied into a latrine pit. So this was just a stage prop, or, worse, a real toilet for stage hands to use. She had thought this could be the marvelous Ring of Water?

Disgusted, she searched elsewhere in the chamber. There were props galore, but no Rings. Obviously it wasn't here, or was so well hidden she could not find it. Maybe her notion about being somehow attuned to it was vain. Maybe she simply was not destined to be the user of this Ring. After all, she had more or less randomly come to Zilche, and assumed that she could locate the particular Ring the zombie knew about. That was a very tenuous connection.

Still, the Good Magician had given her a mission to perform, and this Ring was an essential part of that mission. If she was not to be the one to find it, then who else was?

"No one!" she exclaimed. "This has to be my Ring to find."

So where was it most likely to be? Apparently it was so well hidden that all the curse fiends could not find it. So it must be in the least likely place. What was that?

"The toilet," she said with wry humor.

Then she paused, gazing at the human privy box. Wouldn't that be fitting!

She walked back to the box. She put her hand to the white wooden ring and picked it up. "Ring of Water, I claim you," she said.

There was a flushing sound, and the Ring dissolved, becoming fluid. It was flowing away! But then it coalesced, forming a translucent Ring around her left little finger.

She had found it. Now what was she going to do with it?

There was just a tiny weak hint of maybe a doubt in her mind. Was this the Ring of Water—or was it merely an imitator? She needed to find out before she called off the search.

She took the Ring out to the hall and gazed through the thick glass. This was supposed to have power over all the water creatures. She would find out.

"If there is any big sea monster in range, come to me," she said. But of course this was foolish, as she was in the castle and couldn't be heard beyond it. She would have to find a better test.

Then a shape loomed in the dark water of the whirlpool. It was a huge serpent! It spread itself against the glass, so as to avoid being sucked down into the vortex below. Its head swung around to gaze at Cynthia. The thing was enormous. Each eye was almost the size of Cynthia's head.

Embarrassed, she reversed. "Return to safe waters," she said.

The serpent nodded, then slithered around and upward, escaping the deadly pull. Soon it was gone.

Cynthia turned to discover Latia there. "So you found it," the Crone said.

"So it seems. I wasn't sure, so—"

"Of course. I will call off the other searchers."

"Thank you," Cynthia said faintly.

"We haven't seen that monster in twenty years. I had feared it was dead."

"Just busy elsewhere," Cynthia said. "I shouldn't have bothered it." But Latia was already turning away. Out of sorts, Cynthia returned to the play chamber.

"Jach and Jillz rabbits!" Zilche exclaimed, responding to the play. The rabbit actors hopped offstage. Jackrabbits and Jillrabbits—of course.

Cynthia paused, not wanting to disturb the zombie's enjoyment. But she found the dramatized puns increasingly hard to take. She saw an actress jumping from one panel to another, and didn't get it until she saw that the panels had printing: CONCLUSION. Jumping to conclusions. Groan.

An actor came to stand at one side of the stage, and a mean-shaped cloud floated at the other side. It rumbled menacingly.

"Hello, Fracto Cumulo Nimbus," the man said.

The cloud turned darker.

The actor drew out a small package. "What, you want my C-ration?" he asked. "You can't eat it."

The cloud swelled, and a painted wooden lightning jag flew from it, followed by an explosive boom of thunder.

"Oh, very well; I'll cast it to you." The man tossed the package into the cloud.

The cloud took it in, then abruptly its rumble became a high-pitched squeal. It shrank as it fled.

Despite herself, Cynthia was intrigued. Food that denatured a cloud? It had to be a pun of some kind.

"Casth rachon!" Zilche cried. And of course she had gotten it: Cration, cast to the cloud: cast-ration. It had unmanned Fracto, as it were.

Enough of this. "I found the Ring," Cynthia said, showing the band on her finger.

"Ouch! I zhuld havz lookedz!"

"No, that's all right. I think it was something only I could do. Now I must return to Castle Zombie."

Fortunately the play was wrapping up. All that remained were two actors made up as cats who were joined together by their common tail. "Ziameze catz!" Zilche exclaimed, getting it. She was actually quite good at charades, as Crone Latia had noted.

Zilche gave her report on the play, and the actors listened appreciatively. There would be some changes made.

Then they bid adieu to Crone Latia, and departed Gateway Castle. "I presume you wish to return to the Brain Coral's Pool," Cynthia said.

"Yez, pleze."

"With pleasure. I am glad you found something worthwhile in exchange for your assistance."

"Yez," the zombie agreed dreamily.

Cynthia returned Zilche to the pool, where she was welcomed, then set off for Castle Zombie. Alone, she had more occasion to ponder. A Ring that could summon a monster not seen in twenty years, and control other creatures of the sea—such amazing power! Yet it was only a little part of what was required to control the Swell Foop. What awful potential did that other device possess?

Sim looked for a suitable zombie, and quickly found it: a large bird. He promptly went to it. "Do you—" he squawked.

"What the ZZZZ do you want, you rotten excuse for wings?" the zombie screeched.

Oh, no! It was a zombie harpy! "Nothing," he squawked quickly.

"Oh, no you don't, Birdbrain! You're looking for a Ring, aren't you!"

What was worse, she understood him. He couldn't plead confusion. He was stuck for it. "Yes," he squawked. "I am Sim Bird."

"And I'm Garnishee Zombie," she screeched. "I know where the Ring of Air is."

"Then we had better fetch it," he agreed with regret.

"You won't like where it is," she screeched with malign satisfaction.

"Where is it?"

"Castle Maidragon."

Sim did a quick sort through his comprehensive avian memory. "The castle the three princesses made last year for Becka Dragon-girl."

"You got it, pipsquawk."

"Why shouldn't I like that? It's a very nice castle, and she's a nice girl."

"You'll be soo-ree, poop-for-brains!"

"Is it really necessary to be so offensive?" he squawked.

"Of course it is, stink-feather!" she screeched. "I'm a zombie harpy with a rotten disposition. It's my spoiled nature to be fowl-mouthed. Or hadn't you noticed, dullard?"

Sim knew himself to be dull neither in feather nor mind; in fact, he was the prettiest and smartest young bird in Xanth. Nevertheless, this ugly creature was beginning to get to him. So he drew on his mental power to handle it, making her seem to be a lovely bird with an endearing manner. Reversing impressions was a straightforward perceptive exercise that could be useful on occasion.

"Thank you for the clarification," he squawked.

"You are welcome, beautiful chick," she murmured dulcetly.

Mildly startled by his success, he glanced at her. She now resembled the historical figure Heavenly Harpy, the loveliest harpy ever. Her wings were shapely, her feathers bright, her face beautiful, and her bare bosom would have freaked out a human male. Sim realized that he had underestimated his own powers of reverse imagination.

"Let us go," he squawked.

"With pleasure," she agreed sweetly. "Though I must confess I feel slightly odd."

Was she catching on? "That's quite all right."

They spread their pretty wings and lofted upward. When they were at cruising elevation, they looped about and oriented on Castle Maidragon, which was not far as the crew flowed. Oops, his reversal was extending too far, messing up even his thoughts. As the crow flied. Flew. Whatever. Shades of the Demoness Metria!

He pumped his wings and zoomed onward.

"Please!" the dulcet voice came from behind. "I am unable to keep up with your magnificent strokes."

Oh, of course. No ordinary bird could pace Sim as he flew, and harpies were clumsier than birds, and zombies worse yet. He looped back, slowing his pace so that she could fly abreast.

Then, curious what she had really said, he did a spot mental translation: "Creep!" she had screeched. "Get your tail out of gear, stupid!"

On the whole, he preferred the euphemistic mode.

As they flew, slowly, he thought of something else. "How can the ageless Ring of Air be in a castle that was constructed only a year ago?"

"I fear that in heaven I am not required to know," she replied gently enough. But a tall branch of a tree they were flying over abruptly wilted, and he realized that it was not heaven she had actually invoked.

"Who controls that Ring?"

"Why, that is your illustrious mother, the Simurgh." A passing flock of whitebirds lost elevation as its V formation melted into an XXX formation. Exactly what twist had she given to the concept of "mother"?

"Then this must have occurred with her acquiescence," he squawked.

"She surely indulged in an eloquent preening," she agreed. A nearby cloud turned red, though it was neither sunrise nor sunset.

"Perhaps I can figure it out," he squawked, for he always liked a good riddle.

"You may do whatever you like, with whatever appendage is convenient, handsome avian," she agreed. A dark swirl of smoke appeared near her mouth, as the heat caused the air to burn explosively.

"I suspect it is this way," he squawked. "Castle Maidragon was made magically by the Three Little Princesses—Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm—in their adult guise as exists on the world of Ptero. Any single princess is a sorceress with great power of magic. Any two princesses working together square that power. When all three work together, that power is cubed. Therefore they brought a phenomenal focus of magic to bear on the project. This enabled them to conjure an entire castle from nothing, and to stock it with all manner of relevant artifacts. They must have liked the notion of having something invaluable in its storage vault, so conjured the Ring of Air from its natural location in the floating Nameless Castle. Perhaps Nimby and Chlorine were otherwise occupied at the time and so were not aware of its departure."

"Nimby and Chlorine were making love," she agreed. More smoke appeared, rising in a roiling ball that soon formed a mushroom-shaped cloud. The average harpy put a rather negative interpretation on that particular process.

Fortunately the highest pennant of Castle Maidragon now came into view. "We are almost there," he squawked, relieved.

She sent a sidelong glance his way. "But we were just beginning to speak of love," she murmured. "Must we end it so soon?"

He wasn't sure what she had actually said, but a nearby swarm of gnasty gnats abruptly collapsed into a heart-shaped swoon. That was more alarming than a smoke ball. Perhaps it was time to end his mental reversals, so he would not be confused when they entered the castle. He performed the mental correction.

"As soon as I obtain the Ring, our association can dissolve," he squawked.

"Too bad for you, puckerbeak!" Garnishee screeched. "You'll never know what a really hot piece of tail is."

Sim was destined to know all things, eventually, but he thought that he could afford to wait a century or two for that particular information.

They glided down toward the castle. A dragon appeared, and flew up to intercept them, stoking its fire. It had batlike wings, bright green purple-tipped scales, and an aggressive stare.

"Watch it, hotbox!" the harpy screeched. That hardly helped.

The dragon brought its snout around, readying its fire.

"Becka!" Sim squawked. "It's me, Sim!"

The dragon did a double-take, then nodded. It looped around and led the way down to the castle with a fine spiral.

When they landed, the dragon transformed into a human girl of about sixteen with blonde hair and brown eyes. "Sim!" she cried, running forward to hug him. "What are you doing keeping company with a zombie harpy?"

"I have to find the Ring of Air," he squawked. Because she knew him, she understood him. "Garnishee Zombie-Harpy knows where it is. She says it is at Castle Maidragon, so we came here."

Becka turned to the harpy. "Hello, Garnishee."

"Go ram a red-hot poker up your—"

"Harpies are hostile by nature," Sim squawked, drowning her out for the moment. "They don't mean anything by it."

"Yes we do!" the harpy screeched. "We mean it literally!"

"That's all right," Becka said. "I speak their language." She turned again to the zombie. "Up yours first, sidewise, twice, snotbrain!" she screeched.

Sim's beak dropped. Garnishee's eyes widened. "You're one of us!" she screeched, embracing the girl with her dirty wings.

Becka turned dragon just long enough to extricate herself, then went back to girl form. "No, I was possessed by the Sea Hag for a while. I learned something. None of it good, but I remembered."

"The Sea Hag! She is our goddess!"

"I'm sure. I never encountered a meaner spirit. Now where do you say this Ring is?"

"In the Forbidden Chamber."

There was half a silence. Then Becka turned to Sim. "That's a problem."

"I know it," Sim squawked. "She said I'd be sorry. I thought she was just being mean."

"I was being mean," Garnishee screeched indignantly.

"You mean it's not really there?"

"Of course it's really there. Now what are you going to do, smart behind?"

"I could get annoyed, if I really tried," Sim mutter-squawked. "It is not safe to open that door."

"It certainly isn't," Becka agreed. "Well, come on in, and we'll think about it. I don't receive compatible company often."

"Compatible!" Garnishee screeched, outraged.

"You excluded, of course, stench puss."

"That's better," the zombie agreed, mollified.

They crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle. It was well-kept inside, with all its halls, chambers, stairways, and incidental turrets clean. There was a smell of chocolate about it.

"What's that stink?" Garnishee demanded.

"The princesses liked to make little castles out of chocolate," Becka explained. "Then they would eat them. This is a real castle, but some of the blocks are chocolate. I don't know whether they forgot, or maybe it was just mischief. I try not to nibble on the blocks as I go by."

"What an ant warren," the zombie remarked, impressed.

"Yes, there are many by-paths," Becka agreed. "I love exploring them, though I am pretty well familiar with the castle by now. Sometimes I play a game, to see how many ways I can get from here to there without crossing any of the other routes. I don't suppose you folk will be staying the night?"

"Why should we stay even a minute, pee-hair?" Garnishee demanded.

Sim would have bitten his tongue, if he had teeth. The harpy never lost a chance to fashion an insult from innocuous material. The girl's hair was yellow, but not that shade.

"Just for nuisance value, buzzard-claw," Becka retorted.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Garnishee screeched, obviously flattered.

"Let's explore options," Sim squawked. "As I recall, the Forbidden Chamber contains the Random Factor, who does unpredictable things to any folk opening that door."

"Such as exchanging their souls," Becka agreed. "And he doesn't seem to do the same thing twice, so the victims are stuck with whatever it is. It was really weird when he switched Princess Melody's soul for the Dastard's. She became worse than he was."

"That sounds nice," the zombie screeched, walking around.

"I wonder," Sim squawked. "You had a good view of the proceedings, as I remember."

"Yes. I was the castle, at the time. The princesses had transformed me into the castle. I was aware of every part of it."

"So you would know if there were any other chamber, perhaps containing a counter to the Factor."

"There isn't."

"What, then, is left?"

"I don't know. All I do know is that if you open that forbidden door, the Factor does something random that will probably mess you up. It's not safe to risk it unless you know exactly what you're doing."

"Factor," Sim repeated. "That can be taken as a mathematical term."

"Oh? How is that?"

For the first time, Sim appreciated the math lessons Che had forced on him. "A factor is one of two or more numbers or algebraic expressions that are multiplied together to produce a given result. For example, the number 12 may have factors 2 and 6, or 3 and 4, or 2 and 2 and 3. Factoring is the effort to discover what numbers can be multiplied together to make the given number."

"Can all numbers be factored?" Becka asked.

"Not evenly, no. Numbers that can't be factored are called prime numbers. Such as 7—it can be divided only by itself and 1. Some primes are very large, and it is not at all easy to discover whether they can be factored, but until that possibility is eliminated, they can't be verified as primes."

"Say," she said. "Suppose you asked the Random Factor to factor a prime number? Would he do it?"

"Well, he couldn't factor a prime number, as I said."

"But would he try?"

Sim looked at her. "He would be very frustrated, if he didn't know it was prime. In fact, he might be out of commission for a while."

"And could you get the Ring of Air while he was distracted?"

Sim considered. The more he considered, the more promising it seemed. "I believe this is worth a try," he squawked. "Thank you."

"Just trying to help," she said, pleased.

"What do you think, Garnishee?" he asked. "Should we gamble on opening that door and feeding the Factor a riddle?"

There was no answer.

"Where is she?" Becka asked.

"She was here not long ago. Until we started talking about the Factor."

"You don't suppose she—?"

"I hope not!" he squawked. "That could be mischief!"

"Zombies are somewhat literal-minded."

"We had better check!"

They ran for the depths of the castle. Becka led the way, knowing it best. They sped through halls and almost tumbled down stairs. They came to the nethermost region just as the zombie harpy was reaching for the doorknob.

"No!" Sim squawked, half spreading his wings in an effort to intercept her. Becka was right beside him.