Part 24 (1/2)

So at last I come to my departure from the normal realm of Xanth in 1080. I confess it was a surprise, for I had completely forgotten a section of my life, by no coincidence.

The day started normally, which was to say, all fouled up. There is an endemic curse on households called snafu that accounts for this; one simply learns to live with it.

I was working in my study, of course, poring over my treasured tomes. The Gorgon was in the kitchen making gorgonzola cheese by staring at milk through her veil. I had not rendered her face invisible again, after the action of the NextWave invasion; we had decided that a heavy veil, spelled to remain in place, sufficed. Hugo, now sixteen years old, was supervising the placement of a cage of little dragons on the drawbridge over the moat. There was an elf doing his service, today setting up a holy smoke generator. I would use that smoke in a future challenge; the querent would have to figure out that he could get through it only by stepping through one of the holes in it. The holes could lead anywhere, but in this case would lead to the inside of the castle. The person who fled the smoke would not get inside, and that would save me the burden of yet another Answer.

I had the magic mirror tuned to Hugo, knowing that he would foul up at some point. Only when he was with Ivy did he become truly competent, because Ivy had never quite lost her image of him as a night in s.h.i.+ny armor. How I wished we could borrow a bit of her talent and permanently Enhance our son, so that he would be all that he sometimes was with her. My tomes said that Hugo had a good destiny and that he would find special happiness and do something really nice for another person; we just had to wait for that to occur. I knew that sometimes the most promising of children went astray, and that at other times the least promising turned out well. Time and hope would show the way.

But it wasn't Hugo who fouled up this time. It was the elf. I missed it because I wasn't watching him. Hugo finished with the dragons and retired to his room to practice conjuring his fruits, and the mirror remained on him. The Gorgon finished making her cheese and started on a petrified cheese salad which also used some of Hugo's fruits. Because the fruits were of all types but tended to be overripe, a bit of petrifaction improved them. All was reasonably well, there, as it was with a.s.sorted other creatures working around the premises. But not with the elf.

Holy smoke is tricky to handle. It is best made in small quant.i.ties and bottled; then the bottles can be opened separately, keeping the amount measured. When it is actually being manufactured, there has to be a strict containment spell, similar to those used to confine summoned demons. The elf forgot that. He simply set a chunk of knothole wood in the brazier and ignited it with a lightning bug. He a.s.sumed it would burn slowly, allowing him to siphon the smoke into the bottles.

Instead, the entire chunk of wood burst into flame. Suddenly there was a rapidly expanding billow of smoke. The elf should have doused it immediately with a bucket of unholy water, but he panicked and retreated, coughing. He was afraid the smoke would surround him and send him through a hole, and the holes were not yet defined. He could wind up anywhere in Xanth!

The smoke expanded, filling the chamber. It was enjoying this. The inanimate is always perverse, but holy smoke is more perverse than most, with more power of mischief than most. It was out to catch the elf and send him through that hole regardless.

The smell of the smoke reached the Gorgon's sensitive nose. She perked up, sniffing. She recognized the smell and screamed warning to me.

Now I reoriented the mirror and saw what was happening. I hurried down to deal with it. Hugo came down, bearing a bunch of blue-speckled bananas he had just conjured.

The smoke did not wait on our convenience. It doubled its effort and coursed from chamber to chamber, filling them all, hot on the trail of the fleeing elf. We converged, meeting the elf, who gesticulated wildly as he explained. ”The wood-it all caught fire at once- the smoke chased me out-”

”Cease babbling, elf!” I snapped, justifiably annoyed. I searched through my memory for a smoke containment spell, but naturally couldn't remember the formula at the moment.

Meanwhile, the smoke, with inanimate cunning, circled around to fill the chamber behind us. I couldn't remember my free-breathing tunneling spell either. A curse on my aging mind! There was nothing to do but step into the one remaining clear chamber, to give me a breather while I cudgeled my memory for the spell I knew was at the tip of my brain.

We cl.u.s.tered in the center of the chamber. The smoke, knowing it had us trapped, encircled us in a smiling wreath. Then it expanded inward, filling the room. I focused on the errant spell, about to remember it. I did a brief exercise to enhance my memory. In a moment I would have us free and the smoke under control.

That was when the Lethe wore off. It had been wearing thin anyway, and my effort of memory banished the last of it. ”Rose!” I cried, stricken.

”I have a banana, not a rose,” Hugo replied.

”The Love of my Life!”

The Gorgon turned to me. ”What?” she inquired with somewhat more than ordinary interest as the smoke swirled up to enclose us in a constricting bubble of air.

”My third wife. She's in h.e.l.l!”

”Don't you mean your first wife, the demoness?”

”No. Rose was human. A princess. I must go to her!”

”If you go, I go too,” the Gorgon said firmly. I can't think why she was interested.

”Hey, don't leave me behind!” Hugo protested.

Now the smoke was filling in the last of the air around us. But that was no problem. I uttered a spell to orient the nearest hole. Then I took hold of my wife's hand and my son's hand, and we stepped through. What was to be one of the great temporary mysteries of Xanth was commencing: our abrupt disappearance from the scene.

We stood on a nearly barren terrain. Nearby we heard the surge of ocean breakers. There were a few trees and a great many weeds. Ahead was a tumbledown shack.

The Gorgon peered around. Her vision was not good, because she had to look through her thick veil. ”Where are we?”

”The Isle of Illusion,” I said. ”It is fallow, since the Sorceress Iris left to become queen.

”Her fabulous residence? No more than this?”

”No more than this, when stripped of its illusion. I sent her here long ago, and she used her talent to make it a region of wonder.”

”But you were going to see your third wife! Is she here?”

”I have come here to have a suitable place for my body,” I explained. ”It has to be well hidden, so that I will not be disturbed while I'm in h.e.l.l.”

”I don't want to go to h.e.l.l!” Hugo protested.

”n.o.body asked you to, son,” I pointed out. ”You are free to return to the castle or to go anywhere else you choose.”

He looked disgruntled.

”Let me make sure I have this straight,” the Gorgon said. ”You are going to sequester your body here and send your soul to h.e.l.l?”

”Precisely.”

”To be reunited with your third wife, who died some time ago?”

”Rose didn't die. She went to h.e.l.l in a handbasket in the year 1000. I lacked the means to rescue her from h.e.l.l, so I took my full supply of Lethe, which happened to be eighty years worth. I a.s.sumed I would be dead before it wore off.”

”It seems you miscalculated,” she noted. ”Do you have the means to rescue Rose now?”

That set me back. ”Not exactly. But I have more experience now, and should be able to figure out a way.”

”And if you bring her back to life, and she is your wife again, what of me?”

I began to get her drift. ”Why, you are my wife too! I wouldn't give you up.”

”That's nice to learn,” she remarked to no one in particular.

”The two of you can divide the tasks. One can cook while the other sorts the socks.”

”A fair division,” she agreed, but she seemed to lack conviction.

”But that can be settled at the time,” I said. ”First I must recover Rose.”

”Perhaps Hugo and I will wait for you elsewhere,” she said. ”We do not care particularly for h.e.l.l.”

”It's too hot,” Hugo agreed. ”Fruit must spoil very quickly there.”

He had a point. ”Perhaps we can make a deal with the Night Stallion to fas.h.i.+on a nice dream for you, until my return.”

”Perhaps,” the Gorgon agreed doubtfully. I realized that she might not consider the dreams of the gourd to be very pleasant. ”How long do you expect to be?”

I hadn't considered that. ”Perhaps a day,” I opined.