Part 30 (2/2)
The centaur nocked an arrow to her bow and stood ready.
Irene approached the cave. ”Cyclops!” she called. The creature stirred. ”Ungh?” he inquired through a yawn.
”Who calls Brontes?”
So the thing could speak the human language. Good. ”Where is my daughter?” Irene demanded.
The Cyclops sat up. His big blue eye gazed out into the light. He saw Chem's arrow aimed at that eye. He blinked.
”Daughter?”
”Ivy. She was with a little dragon.”
The Cyclops brightened. ”Sure, her, and the dragon, and the boy. Nice visit, good fruit. Friends.”
”All three are safe?”
”Sure. Nice children. We talk, tell stories. But they not here.”
”Where are they now?” Irene asked evenly, for her trust in monsters was small.
”They go home,” the Cyclops said. ”That way.” He pointed northeast.
”But that's through the deepest depths of the unknown!” Irene protested. And, she added to herself, it was not the direction of the mouth organ where the children had interacted with the goblin band. Was Brontes deceiving her?
”Yes. Nice kids. I say I carry them at night, but they not wait. In hurry go home.”
”They were all right when they left here?” Irene asked, still uncertain. This misalignment of direction bothered her. Once again, compulsively, she glanced down at her ivy plant. Of course the children were all right!
”They not wait for night. I not go out by day. The Sky--”
Chem lowered the bow. ”I don't think he's deceiving us,” she said. ”He wouldn't be in a position to know about the goblins. The children must have changed direction when they encountered Glory.”
Irene agreed. The Cyclops' story did, after all, align. ”What about the sky?”
”My father the Sky--he strike me down, if--”
”Your father is in the sky?” Chem asked, approaching. ”Is this a euphemism for--”
”He banish me, will strike down--”
”So you said,” Chem cut in. ”So your father is the sky, and he's angry with you. How long ago did you offend him?”
The Cyclops was at a loss. He started counting on his huge fingers.
”That many years ago?” Irene asked.
”Centuries,” the Cyclops said, starting on his other hand.
”Centuries!” Chem exclaimed. ”Your kind must live a long time!”
Brontes shrugged. ”Sip of Youth water now and then; spring not far, for me. But not live long if I go out in sight of Sky!”
It was amazing how widespread knowledge of the Fountain of Youth was among the creatures of Xanth--while civilized people had remained ignorant. Yet this creature seemed unnecessarily restricted by his fear of the sky. ”Have you ever tested it, this--this continuing animosity?”
”Not dare go out by day!”
”Look,” Irene said impatiently. ”There is a terrible hazard facing Xanth at the moment, and we need all the help we can get. Have you heard of the wiggles?”
”The wiggles!” Brontes exclaimed. ”Many times, since time began! Very bad!”
”They're swarming again. If you don't come out and help us stop them, they may riddle this cave by nightfall. They're harder to fight at night, because you can't see them as well. So you may have to choose which chance to take--sky or wiggle.”
”Must warn brothers!” Brontes cried. ”Steropes and Arges are also at risk! Only found them last night!”
Irene wondered why the Cyclops hadn't found his brothers before, perhaps when the last wiggle swarm had pa.s.sed this way. But probably they had been fighting different sections of the swarm, then retreated to their caves by day the way Brontes did. These semihuman creatures had funny values. ”Do that,” she said. ”But first you must come out of that cave.”
”But the Sky--”
”Forget the sky!” Irene snapped. ”Come out here and see what happens. If you don't get struck down, you'll know it's safe. It's been a long time, after all.”
The monster's big eye brightened. ”True. Long time.” He put a foot out of the cave, then hesitated as if thinking of something else. ”But if Sky do strike--”
”Then you won't have to worry about the wiggles.”
Overcome by this logic, though it seemed he reserved some small doubts, the Cyclops stepped out of his cave, cowering against the light, afraid a thunderbolt would strike him down. But as the sunlight fell on him, nothing else did.
”Evidently the sky has forgotten you,” Chem said.
Brontes peered up, shading his eyes with a hand, amazed and relieved. ”Long time,” he repeated. ”Oh, now I free my brothers, too! All fight wiggles!” He glanced about. ”Not see as well as when Ivy-girl help. Where are wiggles?”
”Roughly east-northeast of here, we think,” Chem answered. ”We skirted the fringe of the swarm, and haven't pinpointed it yet. But it's not very far away--and getting closer all the time!”
”The kids!” he said. ”Going right into it!” Then he charged off to the west, in quest of his brothers.
”He's right,” Irene said with new alarm. ”The children must be very near that swarm! Let's hurry!”
They hurried. Irene wished Grundy were still with them, for now the trail was fresh and the local plants would be able to confirm the route. But she could not wait for the golem to reappear. The threat of the wiggles made haste imperative.
As she rode, Irene began to daydream. This was unusual for her, as she was a practical woman; she had to make sure Dor didn't innocently foul up the kingdom. But now, at this time of the double tension of peril to her child and to all of Xanth, she found herself dreaming. She must be more tired than she thought.
She remembered how she had partic.i.p.ated in the defense of Xanth from the last great threat, that of the Mundane Next-wave--which was, of course, now the Lastwave, but old thought and speech habits died slowly--and had herself been King for a while, since Xanth did not have ruling Queens. The final key to victory had been Imbri the Night Mare, now honored by a commemorative statue, who had given her physical life in the cause and now was a spirit of the day, a day mare, bringing--”
”Mare Imbrium!” Irene exclaimed abruptly. ”It's you!”
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