Part 16 (2/2)
Then, as an afterthought as she spiraled back up the air pipe: ”I apologize for misunderstanding you, before.”
”Pulsh-plush-playsh,” Zilche said, trying to clarify her expression. Evidently she had difficulty with the P L combination. ”Zhakzon nize.”
”Yes, Jackson is nice. It never occurred to me that he could be lonely for his kind.”
”Zlonly,” the zombie agreed with feeling.
They pa.s.sed through the illusion of Pipe's Peek and climbed higher into the sky. Then she oriented on Lake Ogre Chobee, where the curse fiend's castle was. She dreaded the coming encounter, but it seemed it was necessary. The curse fiends were not necessarily friendly to outsiders.
In due course she spied the lake. The ogres were no longer there, having long-since migrated to the Ogre-fen-Ogre Fen, but the name lingered. Folk remembered ogres for a long time, unsurprisingly.
The turrets of the curse fiend's Gateway Castle came into sight. Cynthia nerved herself and glided down to a landing on a high plaza.
There was an attractive garden there, with a.s.sorted musical plants. Blue bells rang, golden horns tootled, tubers oompa'd, and a plant with a root shaped like a red heart kept the beat. It was of course a heart beet.
A dour man appeared. The curse fiends were always alert to intrusions. ”What is your business, centaur?” he demanded gruffly.
”I am on a mission for the good of Xanth. I must locate the Ring of Water.”
”We know nothing of this. Kindly depart.”
This was exactly the welcome she had antic.i.p.ated. ”I must not depart without that Ring. I shall need to search for it.”
”You are refusing to depart our premises?” the man asked, beginning to swell up as if about to deliver a curse.
But Cynthia had not been completely asleep in centaur school. She knew how to finesse this. ”You are against the good of Xanth?”
It did set him back a quarter step. ”That depends on definition.”
”The Demon Earth has been abducted, and in his absence the magic of gravity will fade. Xanth needs some gravity. Without it Gateway Castle would lose all the water surrounding it and become a structure on a muddy plain. Your definition favors this?”
He became defensive. ”How do we know you speak the truth?”
”Have you ever known a centaur to speak other than the truth?” Of course she was not a natural centaur, but he wouldn't know that.
”Your information could be inaccurate.”
She merely stared at him.
After a moderately generous moment, he gave way. ”Where is this Ring?”
”I don't know. I said I will have to search for it.”
”We cannot let you do that unsupervised.”
Cynthia sifted through her memory. Che's mother had once traveled to the Vale of the Vole with a curse fiend woman whose every third curse turned out to be a blessing, making her unpopular with her kind. Was it possible she was still here? She had been old when Chex knew her, a generation ago. What was her name? ”Dame Latia!”
”You know the old crone?”
This did not sound promising, but it remained her best chance. ”Indirectly. Is she available?”
”Naturally not.”
What did that mean? Was the woman so old and frail she could not do anything? Cynthia realized that she would have to finesse again. ”Suppose you query her?” That was technically a question, rather than a demand.
He countered similarly. ”Why should I bother the crone?”
”Suppose you inform her that a winged centaur would like to see her?”
”Suppose I don't?”
”I wonder what her reaction would be, when she learns you didn't?”
He pondered that for an instant short of a moment. ”Wait here.” He retreated through a doorway.
”Nize,” Zilche remarked.
”Nice? But I know nothing about Dame Latia. She's the only curse fiend I have heard of. It was just a wild chance that she was still alive, let alone available.”
”Zhe Mazizdath.”
”She's what?”
”Mazizdath.”
Cynthia still couldn't get it. ”Well, I hope that's not mischief.”
The door opened. ”The crone will see you,” the curse fiend said distastefully.
”Excellent,” Cynthia said, as if this had been a certainty all along.
The door looked too small for Cynthia to pa.s.s, but it expanded as she approached, as did the stairway beyond it. It was evident that the curse fiends were pretty good craftsmen.
They were ushered into a very plush chamber. ”Here are the intruders, Crone,” the man said.
”Thank you, Functionary,” a cracked old voice replied.
It was indeed a very old woman. She sat on a plush pillow on an extremely ornate chair. She was the ugliest human person Cynthia had seen anywhere.
Cynthia stepped forward. ”Dame Latia?”
”The Crone,” the woman agreed. ”Ah, you are not Chex.”
”I apologize if I misled you. I am Cynthia, her foal's fiancee.”
”My, time has certainly pa.s.sed! Tell me of her life events since I knew her.”
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