Meanwhile, I was getting involved in something new. I did not recognize its implications at the time. A former approached the castle. "I hear tell you are a Magician," he said.
"So?" I agreed noncommittally.
"Do you have a spell I could use to make the most beautiful girl in my village fall madly in love with me?"
I looked at him. He was a rare bumpkin, smelling of manure. Only a cow flop could love that kind. But as it happened, I had found a number of bottles and vials on my shelf, and one was labeled LOVE, so I presumed it contained elixir from a love spring. I did not know how long it had been there or whether the potency of such water faded with time, so it would be good to test it.
I poured a few drops of it into a smaller container. "Put this in her drink or simply sprinkle it on her," I said. "Make sure that you are the first man she sees thereafter."
"Hokay," he said. "Whatcha want for it?"
It hadn't occurred to me that this was a trade, but I realized that it did make sense. I didn't want the whole village coming to get free love potion! "We do have a garden plot to dig," I said, remembering that Sofia had expressed the desire to try growing some Mundane plants here. Why she should want to do such a thing was beyond me, but I attributed it to the mysteriousness of women. I knew from my limited experience with her that it was best to humor her whims. Otherwise she might mismatch my socks.
So the farmer took his spade and did what he did best, and in a day had a nice garden plot dug. Sofia was thrilled, and not only were my socks extra sweet for the next week, so was she. Good deeds had their-rewards. The fanner went back to his village, and later we heard the village wedding gong sounding, and I knew that the potion had been effective.
After that more villagers did come. Some wanted healing, which my supply of healing elixir did, and others wanted curse spells for their neighbors, and sundry others had sundry other requests. I was able to accommodate them all, for the needs of rustics were elementary, but in an effort to discourage such business I gradually increased my demands for trades. This process continued for years, and finally it reached to the point of equilibrium: there would be three formidable challenges for each person just to gain admittance to the castle, and then he would have to give me a year's service or something equivalent, before I would answer his Question. Then the flow of folk finally diminished, and I had no more calls than I wanted, which was on the order of one a month. Sofia agreed with this policy; as a Mundane she did not feel entirely at home in Xanth and preferred seclusion for the raising of her son.
That turned out to be more complicated than anticipated. Remember, Sofia was Mundane; she was learning about magic but it wasn't natural to her, and she had no magic talent of her own. She did not understand the pitfalls of it. I was busy with my own pursuits and did not think to inquire, and in any event Sofia would not have been able to tell me what was happening, because she had no basis for suspicion. The consequence of this was to be unfortunate. Had I the chance to play that portion of my life over, I would pay better attention and spare my son grief and alienation. But all I can do now is tell what happened, with my regrets.
When Crombie was three years old, an eight-year-old boy came for an Answer. I knew instantly that he was a Magician, and in the guise of making him serve me a year, I trained him in certain necessary things. I was quite excited, and my enthusiasm spread to Sofia, who had never seen magic like this before. In fact it was about at this point that she became a believer. Thus we were both distracted and did not think of the effect on our son. That was my error, one of a number whose memory forever plagues me. Sometimes I am almost tempted to take Lethe again, to abolish such embarrassments. I will discuss the business with the other boy in the next chapter; this one is for Crombie.
When Crombie saw our attention taken by the other boy, who was resident at the castle for that time, he was jealous and resentful. He had an excellent talent of his own, but it was not close to Magician level, while the other boy's was. Crombie was somewhat annoyed with me for being distracted, but he had little contact with me in the best of times, so that was not the problem. It was when Sofia also got involved that Crombie’s helpless rage overflowed. She was his mother; how could she be neglecting him in favor of this stranger? A few words could have eased his passion, but we were not alert, and they went unsaid.
So Crombie did what made sense to him: he sought another mother. A better one. One who would pay him full attention, to the exclusion of all other children. Oh, the subtle mischief of that quest!
His talent was to find things. All he had to do was fix a thing in his mind, close his eyes, turn himself around, and point, and his finger would be pointing in the direction that thing was to be found. It had been interesting discovering this; at first he had been a baby, too small to point, but once he started walking Sofia kept finding him into the cookie jar, no matter where she hid it, and finally discovered that he was Finding it He could find anything, even intangible things, but could not be sure how far away they were. He was sure only of the direction. Since he wasn't allowed out of the castle alone, he didn't have much opportunity to use it for more than cookies.
But this time, in his rage, he broke the rule. He spun around, pointed, and opened his eyes. Then he walked in the direction he was pointing.
Into a wall. His Finding sense took no note of intervening obstacles, it merely pointed the way. So he walked through the doors and out of the castle and tried it again. This time he was pointing across the moat.
He knew he shouldn't cross it, but his rage pushed him on. If he got out into the jungle and got lost, it would serve his mother right. Maybe he would never return home; it would serve her right. But of course he could find home by using his talent, if he changed his mind.
So he crossed the drawbridge. Soufflé lifted his head from the water and hissed warningly; he knew the boy was not supposed to go out alone. But Crombie ran on across, and the monster couldn't stop him, for he certainly wasn't going to bite my son.
Crombie did his Find routine again, and followed his finger into the jungle. Soufflé, alarmed, slid out of the moat and into the castle, coming to warn us. But Sofia would have none if it. "You're getting my carpet wet!" she screamed. "Get out of here this instant!" And Soufflé, cowed, slithered hastily back out. There are rare times when it is a disadvantage to be unable to speak the human way, and this is one of the few examples I can muster.
The serpent then crossed the moat and slid after Crombie. But it was slow, sniffing out the lad's trail, and soon he lost it in the welter of odors around the castle. Defeated, he returned to the moat and sank down under the water, miserable. He could only hope that the boy returned safely of his own accord.
Crombie, undaunted by the big outside world, followed his finger. It led him through forest and dale, until he came to a big pot of honey. There was candy around its rim. Well, now! He walked up and ripped off a gumdrop.
The gumdrop clung to the pot. Crombie pulled, and it came off, connected to the rim by a thinning string of gum. He yanked harder, and the connection stretched and thinned further.
Then he put it in his mouth and chomped down on it.
The honeypot exploded into smoke. "Yow!!" The gumdrop became smoke too, and curled back into the main cloud.
Somewhat daunted, Crombie nevertheless stood his ground. He was a fighter, even at the age of three. It wasn't as if he had never seen magic before.
The smoke coalesced into the figure of a woman. "Who the abyss are you?" she demanded.
"Who the what?" Crombie asked, confused.
"Shed, Hades, inferno, blazes, hot underworld—" She broke off, examining him more closely. "Wait an instant! You're underage! I can't use that word around you."
"What word?"
"The word I can't remember. What's a little tyke like you doing out here alone? Where's your mother?"
"She's too busy for me. So I'm finding a better mother, and you're it."
The demoness considered. "Who is your
busy mother?"
"Sofia. She's Mundane."
The demoness considered again. It had been a long tune since she had considered anything twice. In fact it hadn't happened since she tried to seduce me. For this was indeed that demoness, who was somehow always near when there was mischief about to break loose. Perhaps demons do have talents, and this was hers.
"And who is your father?"
"The Magician Humfrey."
"Now this is abruptly interesting. You are Humfrey's son?" She evidently wanted to be quite sure.
"Yes. Only he's busy too.”
"Indeed. I remember when he was too busy for me. And what is your name?"
"I'm Crombie."
"And I'm Metria. What makes you think I'm a better mother for you?"
"I pointed to you."
"You bit me, too, right on the—never mind." She rubbed the farthest out spot on her bosom. "This is your magic?"
"Yes. I Find things. So I Found a better mother."
The demoness nodded. "That is an interesting way to put it. That certainly is a nice talent. You recognized me despite my deceptive configuration."
"Your what?"
"The way I looked. You weren't fooled."
"Nothing fools my talent," he said proudly.
"Why are your folks too busy for you?"
"There's an older boy there now. They like him better."
Metria considered. "You know, I used to know your father, but he treated me as shabbily as he is treating you. I even showed him my panties."
Crombie was young and innocent, but not that innocent. "You were his wife?"
"Not exactly. That was the Demoness Dana, who sensibly departed after having her way with him. I wanted to summon the stork with him too, but he didn't cooperate. He was just too dam—uh, darned busy for me." She frowned, aggravated in retrospect.
"Yes," Crombie said, understanding perfectly.
"Well, your talent must be right. Tell, me, what is your idea of the perfect mother?"
"She'll pay all her attention to me and nobody else," he replied, for he had done some thinking on this subject. "She'll give me candy, and never make me take a bath, and never make me sleep alone. And she won't like any other children, not even a little bit.”
Metria nodded. "I can do that."
"Sure. My talent Found you."
“It certainly did. Well, Crombie, this should be most entertaining."
"What?"
"Let's find some candy."
It was obvious they were going to get along.
Metria picked Crombie up and carried him swiftly through the air to the bank of the With-a-Cookee River, where cookies of all types grew in abundance. Crombie was delighted. He picked cookies galore and stuffed them into his mouth. Then she took him to Lake Tsoda Popka, and he sampled the fizz. He didn't like the first taste, but she showed him how to put some in a bottle she found, and shake it until it squirted all over everything, and then it was tame enough to drink.
But after a bit she became more serious. "Crombie, this stuff is very good, but if you eat too much right away it can give you a tummy ache. You have to get used to it. I would not be a perfect mother if I did not warn you of this. So I will take you home now, but tomorrow you can come out again, and you will be able to eat more without getting sick. Eventually you will be able to stuff yourself with impunity, and that is the ideal state."
"But I don't want to go home!"
She frowned. “I understand your position. But if you don't return, they will know how you sneaked out, and then there will be censored to pay.”
"What to pay?"
"Worse than seeing panties."
That set him back. "I don't want to be censored!"
"Just what is so bad about spending the night home?"
"I'm stuck in this dark room all to myself, while they do fun things somewhere else. There are spooks just waiting to grab me if I even peek out from under the covers. And I have to have castor oil, because it is Good For Me."
Metria made a face. "You're right. That's a fate worse than whatever. But I have an idea. I can't go in that castle, because your father has spirit levels out that flatten any spirit. But maybe if I make myself very small, you can sneak me in. Then I will keep you company and help you avoid the bad things."
"Great!"
The demoness became as small as a gumdrop, and he put her in his mouth. "Now don't swallow me," she warned, a little mouth forming on the drop. "Because then I would have to turn crepuscular to come out, and you wouldn't like where I came out."
"Turn what?"
"Hazy, indistinct, impalpable, vague, smoky, gaseous—
"Poopy?"
"Close enough."
He was careful not to swallow her or even to bite on her, though she tasted very good. His tummy was already feeling just enough queasy from the cookies and tsoda popka so that he didn't want any ill wind in there.
Soufflé Serpent was greatly relieved to see him return safely. Crombie knew that the creature would not tell on him, now. Moat monsters never told, when it would only get them in trouble too.
No alarms went off. It seemed that the magic of the castle couldn't detect an evil spirit when it was inside a good person.
Crombie hadn't even been missed. That certainty seemed to justify his attitude.
Soon it was time for supper. He wasn't hungry. But Metria curled out of his mouth, an invisible vapor, and made the food disappear. She did the same for the oil from the castors, and that was an even greater relief.
When he went up to his lonely room, she was with him. He had company. She formed herself into the nicest pillow he could imagine, with two extremely soft mounds, and he rested his head on her and felt wonderful.
Then in the dark, a spook came. It leaned over the bed. "Look!" it exclaimed. "He forgot to hide under the covers! Now we'll get him!"
Suddenly the pillow opened a big long mouth with one-and-a-half squintillion teeth. "Oh, yeah?" it breathed with supreme menace and snapped at the spook's nose. The spook was so surprised it dropped to the floor, where Missile-Toe, Crombie's Monster Under the Bed, fired a spike into its foot. "Owoooh!" the spook cried, and shot out of there so fast a piece of it tore on a nail in the wall. After that no more spooks came. Crombie laughed until he almost cried, sheerly happy.
Then the pillow formed arms, and they hugged Crombie and stroked his hair, and there was a soft sweet humming until he drifted to sleep. Metria was the perfect mother, all right.
After a year, the other boy went away. But Metria stayed. Usually she assumed the form of Crombie's jacket, and he wore her around the house, but she could be anything he wanted. Indeed, she was all he wanted; he hardly cared about anything else. When Sofia made him study things he Ought to Know, he paid no attention, knowing that Metria would provide the answers for him when they were required. And often they sneaked out to the With-a-Cookee River and gorged. His miserable life had become totally happy.
What none of us knew, then, was that Metria was learning all my secrets, for she was an enemy in our midst. A number of my spells went wrong, causing great inconvenience and annoyance, and we didn't know why. What a joke the demoness was having at our expense!
Then Crombie turned thirteen. The moment he was a teenager, he became aware of the female of the species. He was still too young to join the Adult Conspiracy, but he had notions about it, and chafed at being kept in ignorance. In short, he was a typical teenager.
Here he ran afoul of Metria herself. She was a creature of mischief, but she knew there was more mischief in maintaining the Adult Conspiracy than in abolishing it, so she maintained it. So when Crombie sought to put his hands on her in an aware way, she told him no. He had never been balked by her before and was at first incredulous, then furious. He grabbed her—and she dissipated into smoke and floated away. While it disturbs me to agree with that confounded demoness, I have to say that she acted correctly in that instance. Any woman who gets grabbed in a manner she doesn't want should dep
art with similar swiftness.
After that she was no longer with Crombie. He had to sleep alone. He was now too big for the spooks to harm, but he hated losing his womanly-soft pillow. Now his almost complete ignorance of the things Sofia had been teaching him manifested. He was a spoiled-rotten teenager, and that was a condition not even he could live with. Metria had done him the worst of favors by enabling him to escape any discipline in childhood. He was so angry he had to keep blinking to keep the red glare of rage from burning his eyes. He cursed all older women, for of course he was incapable of blaming himself.
He stormed out of the castle, now having more freedom because we were under the impression he was worthy of it. He whirled and pointed, uttering the syllable "Girl!"
He followed his finger—and came across a girl his age, sitting in the very glade where he had first found the honeypot. She was exquisitely pretty, and he fell in love with her right away. This, too, is the manner of teenagers. Since he hadn't grabbed her, she was responsive. The two of them had a marvelous time dancing and kissing and sharing secrets. Then he became too demanding: "Show me your panties."
She laughed. Annoyed, he grabbed at her—and she dissolved into smoke and floated away. Only then did he realize that she had been merely another aspect of the Demoness Metria, having her fun with his innocence.
That was when he swore never to trust another woman. Any age, any type. They say there is no fury like that of a woman scorned, and Metria is a perfect example, but surely the fury of a teenager balked comes close. (I have, of course, long since forgotten that I was ever a teenager, not that this is relevant.)
By the time I discovered what had happened, it was way too late. My son was hopelessly embittered. There was nothing to do but send him away to be a soldier, for hate is an asset to that profession. I had in effect lost my son. Sofia was not particularly pleased, either.