Up In A Heaval (10 page)

“Be that as it may, I am taking him out of here. Now back off or I will chomp you.”

“You can't chomp me!” The kraken threw a few dozen tentacles at him.

So Soufflé chomped off a few half dozen of them. “I warned you.”

“Oooo, that smarts!” the kraken signaled. It backed off, somewhat to Soufflé’s surprise. Normally krakens liked nothing better than a good tangle.

Soufflé returned to the man, who was still thrashing aimlessly. He made a niche in his body under him and bore the man up and along. He swam to the small island in the sea, where the werewolves and zombies could not reach, and deposited the man there.

“Stop your interference!” a harpy screeched, diving at Soufflé. He ducked his head, avoiding her. But then three more dived. He reversed coils and knocked them out of the air with a well-placed tail sweep. They tumbled heads under tails, screeching indignantly. After that they kept their distance.

Now at last he could tend to the oddly named Slander, the man all these monsters were chasing. He was sitting on the shore, looking quizzically at Soufflé. So was the screaming maiden, who was now standing beside him. That was another surprise. Gratitude, despair, curiosity—such emotions were understandable. But quizzical? Something was reasonably odd here.

Then the man spoke. “I see you don't understand, serpent,” he said. “So before we curse you, I will try to make you understand. Curses are generally better when their rationales are grasped.”

Curse? The oddity was ballooning.

“Here is the situation: We are curse friends (known by the uninitiated as curse fiends—what a difference an omitted letter makes!) and actors in rehearsal for a new play.”

A play! Soufflé remembered that the curse fiends did put on plays and set great store by them. No wonder the maiden was so pretty: She was an actress.

"This one is entitled Just Deserts and features a human version of a cri-tic named Slander who throughout his life took inordinate delight in tormenting those whose creativity, industry, and talent far exceeded his own. He read books, viewed plays, and absorbed illusion shows with the express purpose of destroying the reputations, artistry, and livelihood of those devising and presenting them. If there were no legitimate criticisms to make, he invented them. After all, in his mind the end justified the means, and the end was to ruin anything remotely artistic or popular.

"As it happened, he had a girlfriend who had been under the delusion that she could change him for the better. Thus she tolerated his unkindnesses without response in kind. But finally his incessant carping and condemnation was too much for her, and she swallowed the expiration label on a jar of log jam and expired.

“Thus Slander's life. What concerns us is his afterlife. When he died he found himself in a hell crafted by all those he had maligned in life. Now the desks were turned, and the oppressor became the victim. He was harried mercilessly from sight to site. When he finally straggled to the isle where his dead beloved was stranded, and begged for her help, she would cruelly shove him back into the sea. Thus she repaid him in kind, laughing hilariously as the monsters tore him apart,” He paused while the lady demonstrated with lift of her lovely leg, a push of her tender toes, and a hilarious laugh. “Then the scenario would start again with a fresh cast of monsters. Only when the critic suffered as much as he had made others suffer would he finally be freed to expire in peace. That was bound to take some time.”

The man eyed Soufflé directly. “What you blundered into, in your dull reptilian way, was a dress rehearsal. You have ruined it, and we shall have to start over. We take strong exception to such interference. Accordingly, I shall now roundly curse you, covering both your routine and your prospective romantic existence, and we shall then drive you out of our set. You must exist in your own hell, not intruding on ours. Do you understand?”

It seemed pointless to try to argue, even if he could have had a human voice. He had tried to help, and his ignorance had resulted in the opposite. He knew that curse fiends were not the forgiving type. So he nodded his head.

“We hereby curse you to serve an endless life of drudgery and servitude until you find your one true love—who will avoid or reject you.” The man made a gesture with his hands, and the woman made a similar gesture, somewhat like throwing. Something invisible but powerful struck Soufflé across the snout. Suddenly he was filled with terror. He knew it was the curse, but that didn't help.

He slithered into the sea and swam as rapidly as he could away from the land. The kraken pursued him in the water, the harpies harried him from the air, and the werewolves and zombies raced along the shore to prevent him from seeking land. Worst of all, he could hear the woman laughing at him, her vibrant voice packed with ridicule and contempt. What an ignominious retreat—exactly as they had intended.

Soufflé dived deep down into the cold darkness beneath. Only the kraken could follow him there, but it couldn't keep up because it had lost some half tentacles. So he escaped.

But he didn't escape the curse. He found himself impelled to seek the most lowly of employments, which was that of moat monster. Moats were not at all like the open sea. They were shallow and narrow and went around in circles, and often they were dirty, because castle sewage tended to leak into them. No self-respecting monster would perform such onerous duty unless bribed or ensorceled to do so. Bribes were no good for Soufflé, because he had to serve without recompense, and anyway he didn't like the taste of human babies. And he was, of course, ensorceled by the curse. So he sought the job others avoided, and in the course of time served at every castle that was respectable in Xanth, and some that weren't. Castle Roogna was dull during its defunct days, but then Rose of Roogna came, and she was a delight. Good Magician Humfrey and his several serial wives were interesting, and the nameless castle in the sky was fascinating. Later Castle Roogna was occupied again, with the sound of little feet on the floors and little splashes in the moat. They even let him baby-sit princesses on occasion. So though it was technically a curse, this aspect no longer bothered him much. Of course he would like to swim in the deep deep deeps of the sea again sometime, but he couldn't go there until the curse abated.

Which left the romantic aspect. For centuries he had not even seen a lady serpent, and of course which of them would even associate with a lowly moat monster? So his chances of ever finding true love, or even passable acquaintance, were remote. Unless he somehow abridged the curse—and how could he do that? So Soufflé endured and made the best of it. The best was tolerable, on better days.

There was actually one advantage to the curse, which it took him some time to fathom: He wasn't aging. He was in a kind of stasis, unable to grow old, because fading out would release him from his chore. So he seemed like the same young monster he had been at the outset, except for the increasing gravity of demeanor his long experience brought him. If the curse ended, he would resume aging, but it would be worth it, because he would finally be able to return to the seas and to find love. He dreamed of that.

The scene stopped with Soufflé snoozing in the moat. Sesame realized that the Magic Tapestry had brought the sequence up to the present, so there was no more historical animation.

Umlaut looked at Sesame and saw the tear in her eye and a little heart floating just above her snout. She had gotten a bit too much involved with Soufflé’s history and now was embarrassingly smitten by him. “You must be the one,” he told her. “At least, maybe you can be if you want to be. If there's a way to abate the curse. There seems to be no need to fear Soufflé; he is evidently a very nice serpent, unfairly condemned for doing what he thought was right.”

Those were her sentiments exactly.

“Let's go down and meet him,” Umlaut said.

They went down and out. But as they approached the moat, Sesame hung back. She didn't want to; it was the curse, making her avoid Soufflé.

“That's confirmation,” Umlaut said. “You're the one. You can't approach him. But I can. Shall I tell him?”

Regretfully, she nodded and retreated back to their room. She would watch their encounter on the Magic Tapestry. She slithered quickly there and fixed her gaze on the scene.

Umlaut and Sammy went out on the drawbridge. Soufflé emerged from his snooze and came to sniff noses with Sammy. They had evidently met before.

“Uh, I am Umlaut,” Umlaut said. “I have an, er, message for you.” She didn't actually hear him but could tell what he was saying from the awkward way his mouth moved. “We have just seen your life history on the Magic Tapestry and know how you were cursed long ago. We think it was too great a punishment for too small an offense; you were only trying to do a decent thing.”

Soufflé nodded appreciatively. It was obvious that he understood every word, even if he couldn't speak in human dialect. He was like Sesame in that respect; many animals learned human talk as a second language.

“Traveling with me is a lady serpent named Sesame, with a talent of emulation similar to mine. She has been wary of male serpents, having had a bad experience, but now feels she knows you. She came to meet you, but the curse prevented her.” Umlaut paused for the significance of that to sink in. “I think she is the one for you. That's why the curse stops her. But maybe we can find a way to end the curse. Then—”

Soufflé nodded gratefully. He did understand. Then he sank slowly into the water, leaving only a little red heart floating where his head disappeared. Umlaut had done a good job, for a human being, and Sesame really appreciated it.

Umlaut and Sammy returned to their room to rejoin Sesame. “This is a remarkable romance,” Umlaut said. “You can't meet each other, but you both understand.” Indeed, Sesame was still gazing at the tapestry's image of Soufflé’s heart floating on the moat water.

Later Princess Ida came to escort them to dinner. This was a fancy affair, enlivened not only by the three little princesses but also by two eleven-year-old cousins, the princesses Dawn and Eve, and their mother Electra. While the three little princesses were full of fun and mischief, the two older ones were more subtly mischievous. Dawn had flame red hair and green eyes, wore a bright dress, and could tell anything about any living thing, while Eve had black hair and eyes, wore a dark dress, and could tell anything about any inanimate thing. Sesame privately judged that by the time they reached the Adult Conspiracy—maybe even before then—they would be dangerous.

Sammy and Sesame had a table to themselves. It seemed that animals didn't generally eat in the royal dining hall, but as special guests these were allowed. The story about Sesame and Soufflé had gotten around—little princesses had very sharp ears—and there was some sympathy.

As the meal finished, young Princesses Dawn and Eve quietly approached Umlaut. “You're an interesting person,” Dawn said. “You're not living.”

“I'm not living here,” Umlaut said, startled by the statement.

“And you're not dead,” Eve said. “So neither of us knows about you.”

They were serious. “I don't understand.”

“Neither do we,” Dawn said as they moved on.

Odd indeed. But then Sammy and Sesame rejoined him, pretending that they hadn't overheard, and the matter evidently escaped his mind.

That evening while the others watched the Magic Tapestry—they were interested in the activities of cats and serpents around Xanth— Umlaut read the letter to Queen Irene. He moved his lips as he read silently, so Sesame picked it up.

Dear Queen Irene,

Happy birthday to you next week on the 15th of Apull.

Irene has always been a special name to me because one of my daughter's names is Irene. She is not a queen; however, in another country across the ocean she would be a princess. In this part of Mundania, she simply is a wife and mother of two beautiful girls, Jordyn and Jenny—like our friend Jenny Elf. Irene is what we call a homemaker. Oh, yes, she is also learning a discipline of self-defense called karate. This is in case she meets any tangle trees or ogres. She thinks being a mother makes her too old to scream prettily or fling her hair about, but she can still deliver a good swift kick where it will do the most good.

Did you know Irene means “peace”? At least it does here.

Having said all that, I had better introduce myself. My name is Arjayess and I was banished to Mundania many years ago. I have written to Breanna of the Black Wave and Jenny Elf. I am hoping to become friends with more Xanthians because I believe that is my original home. My talent is visions of people, places, and events in Xanth. My other talent, like yours, is growing plants. Although there is no actual magic in Mundania except my visions (and rainbows), surrounding myself with growing and flowering things brings much happiness to me.

I wish there were a way for us to meet. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could exchange seeds from our worlds? I hope to write again before you and Dor must fade away.

Arjayess

Again, this seemed ordinary human business. Sesame did not see anything here that either incited rage or solved the problem of the Red Spot. It was way out of date, of course, and they were not delivering the letters in the order they had been written. But regard-less of their order, what was the secret of these letters?

Next morning Queen Irene and King Dor returned from their trip and held an audience for their visitors. Sesame expected a serious occasion, but that was ruined by the voices. It seemed that the king’s magic talent was making the inanimate talk, and talk it did, of impertinently.

“Look at this!” a floor tile said. “A little cat and a big snake.”

“So the snake brought its meal along,” a wallboard retorted.

“If you bits of fuel for the fireplace are quite through,” Queen Irene said sternly, “we shall proceed.”

The tile and board were silent. Evidently they understood the threat.

Queen Irene glanced imperiously at Umlaut. “I understand you have something for me?”

“Uh, yes, Your Majesty,” he said, flustered. This was, after all, human royalty; Sesame would have reacted similarly in the presence of a king snake. He gave her the letter.