"Oh, I thought I heard something like that! What were they?"
"I wanted a seawater pond to soak my tail in."
Dana gestured. A depression appeared in the iron surface, filled with water.
Mela dipped a toe cautiously in it. "Oooo! It really is salt!" She converted her legs to tail and plunged in. It was wonderful.
Soon Okra had her hard pallet and Ida had her soft moss. All three made sighs of satisfaction.
"How can we thank you, Dana?" Mela inquired blissfully.
"Oh, no," the demoness protested. "You must not thank me! This is my Good Deed for today. I feel almost as if my soul is back."
"Wouldn't it be nice if souled folk did good deeds too!" Mela said. "If we can't thank you, at least we can hope to see you again soon, when we reach the Good Magician's castle."
"Oh, you are going there? Do you know the way?"
"We have a map, but it hasn't been easy to find the route."
"I will come again tomorrow morning and show you the best route. That will be my good deed for that day." Then the figure turned smoky, clouding up. "Oh, I forgot; this is my last day! At midnight I must exchange with my successor, the Maiden Taiwan. Oops, I mean the Matron Taiwan; she's not exactly a maiden anymore. Or maybe Sofia. I will not be able to guide you."
"Well, it was a nice thought," Mela said. The feel of the salt water on her tail was so good that nothing could upset her at the moment.
"I know," Dana said. "I'll have Metria do it."
"But Metria is full of mischief," Mela objected.
"True. But she is bored, and if I tell her that you will be doing something interesting, she will help."
"Something interesting? Such as falling off the mountain?"
"No, nothing like that. But if you are to appear at my husband's castle, you will have to put something on."
"Something on?"
"All three of you," Dana said firmly. "The Matron Taiwan will insist on it."
"But I'm a merwoman!" Mela protested. "I never wear clothing."
"And I'm an ogress," Okra said. "Ogres don't wear clothes either, except for special occasions. Fur suffices." "Dana's right," Ida said. "I understand that all human folk wear clothing, so they probably expect it in others."
"The matron is very concerned about protocol," Dana agreed. "You are not nymphs; you cannot run around bare bottomed. So I will have Metria guide you to the pantry."
"The pantry?" Mela asked.
"That's where you start. Well, I must be off; I have only half a night to make Humfrey deliriously happy." She disappeared.
They made a meal of Ida's magic sandwich, which expanded enough to feed all three of them, with enough left over for another meal. Then they slept comfortably on or in their respective gifts from the demoness.
At the first crack of dawn, the Demoness Metria appeared. "Up, you lazy bones! We don't have all aurora!"
"All what?" Mela asked sleepily.
"Sunrise, daybreak, cockcrow, dawn, grief—"
"Grief?" Okra asked.
"Morning!" Ida exclaimed.
"Whatever," the demoness said crossly. "Dana told me to get you to the pantry if I wanted to see something interesting, so let's get on with it."
They got off or out of their assorted sleeping places, which promptly disappeared. Mela flexed her legs, which felt marvelously restored after the night's rest in tailform. They snatched another bite of magic sandwich, then followed Metria down the steep iron path to the west.
In due course they arrived at the pantry. This was a huge tree in the shape of a pan. Metria opened a door in the trunk, and they walked into the interior, which was one big chamber. All around its circular wall were displayed its hidden fruits.
"Panties!" Ida exclaimed. "How marvelous!"
"We have to put on panties?" Okra asked, not pleased.
"Yes. This should be most interesting."
They walked around the circle, gazing at the assorted panties. Mela had been diffident about this matter, but found herself getting interested. She had never dreamed that there could be such an array to choose from. There were panties of every type and description, from blah to fantastic and all the shades between.
But something nagged her. She finally put her mental finger on it. "Why should this be so interesting?" she asked the demoness.
"Because of the—Oh, you mean you really don't know?"
"I really don't know. But I'm sure that you must have good reason to be interested, and that may not be what interests me."
"Indubitably."
"In what?"
"In doubt, suspicion, distrust—" Metria paused. "Hey, wait! I had it right the first time. It means not to be doubted for even a tiny instant."
Had Mela not been a fair-tempered creature, she might have thought of being annoyed. "Thank you. What is that not-to-be-doubted-for-a-tiny-instant reason for your interest?"
"Last year Good Magician Humfrey was dickering for his wife with the Demon X(A/N)th, and to get her back he would have to answer a question that couldn't be answered. That put him in a picklement, as you might imagine. But he managed to wangle a compromise, so didn't have to answer the question."
"Which wife?" Okra asked. "Dana?"
"No, Rose of Roogna. You don't know her."
"What has any of this to do with me?" Mela demanded, mentally dousing her temper in chill seawater to keep it from warping.
"Why, it has everything to do with you," Metria said. "You are the central figure."
"I am?"
"Or maybe your center is to be figured. The greatest mystery of Xanth is about to be solved."
"Something I'm doing will solve a mystery?" "Yes. It will answer the unanswerable question. That's why it's so interesting."
"What question?" Mela demanded.
"The question the Good Magician couldn't answer."
The temper was definitely fraying. "And what is that?"
"The color."
"The what?"
"The color of your panties."
Mela digested that. "The Good Magician can't tell the color of my panties?"
"That's right."
"But I never wore any!"
"That's what makes it such a challenge."
"But that's not a fair question."
"Yes it is. Because you are about to don panties, and they will surely have a color, even if that color is transparent, and then there will be an answer."
"But surely he already knows that color, since he knows everything."
"Ah, you see it is more complicated than that. The Demon X(A/N)th did not want to free Rose, so he planned to change the color you chose, to make Humfrey's answer wrong. He has the power to do that sort of thing, and Humfrey could not oppose it. But the cunning mortal managed to get around it with a plea bargain, and so the question remained unanswered. Not that it matters; now it is merely a curiosity. But I am very curious. That's why I brought you here."
"To find out what color my panties will be?"
"That's right. I've never had the answer to an unanswerable question before."
"Then maybe I won't don any panties!"
The demoness shook her head. "They'll never let you into that castle bare nude. You look way too much like a woman. You have to choose."
Mela sighed. She did want to find a good husband, which meant she had to see the Good Magician, and if getting panted was part of the price of that, then she had to do it. Even if it gave the demoness satisfaction. Besides, she was really quite intrigued by the variety of panties offered. The right panty might do wonders for her midsection, and possibly even enhance her chance of catching a husband.
So she lifted a panty from its hook and flattened it against her. It was plain white. "I don't think this does much for me," she said.
"That's no way to judge," Metria said. "You have to put them on. Take them into the changing chamber." She indicated a curtained region in the center of the pantry.
"I don't need a chamber," Mela protested. "I
can try it on right here."
"No you can't," the demoness said. "That's not the way."
"Yes I can." Mela bent forward and lifted a foot. But the moment it approached the panty, the material wrinkled and writhed away and got all twisted up. She couldn't get her foot in it.
So with ill grace she stepped into the chamber. Then the panty behaved, and she was able to put first one foot and then the other in. The garment fit her perfectly, and she realized that this was part of the magic of the pantry. All of its wares would fit any woman who came here.
She stepped outside. The other three were now seated on stools in a semicircle. "Turn around," Metria said.
"Why?"
"Because that's the way it's done. If you're going to model panties, you have to do it properly."
"Suppose I don't?"
At that point the panty started twisting up again, and uncomfortable wrinkles pressed into her tender flesh. So she turned around.
"Oh, they look much better now," Ida said. "Your bottom looks so much more interesting."
This, too, did not fully please Mela. She had been under the impression that her bottom had always been sufficiently interesting. But she spied a set of angled mirrors, which magically showed her from behind as well as in front, and had to admit it was true: her midsection was enhanced by the panty. There was a certain glossy mystery about it now. Was this the mystery that was about to be solved? She wasn't sure that she liked the notion of the attention of all Xanth on her posterior. But she also wasn't sure she didn't like the notion. It depended on the panty, and her mood.
Still, plain white was not her favorite color. She would try on something else.
She retreated into the changing chamber and removed the panty. It hung limply, depressed about being rejected. She took it out and hung it back on its hook. Then she took another panty. This one was lustrous black.
In a moment she was in it and doing her turn before the little audience. "That's nicer," Okra said. "It makes your bottom ripple when you walk."
Mela checked the mirror, and saw that it was true. Her walk was definitely more intriguing than it had been. Still, she hoped to do better.
She tried a lovely sea green panty. That was better yet, for the currents of the ocean seemed to flow across it as she walked, but it still lacked something.
"Enough with the simple stuff," Metria said impatiently. "Let's see some fancy pants."
"Then you pick them out," Mela said shortly.
"Gladly." In a moment the demoness brought a shimmering peacock blue silk panty oversewn with a golden net. Within the net hung glowing fireflies. Mela was amazed; she had not realized that anything this fancy existed.
She put it on and stepped out. The room lit up. "Oooh, I like it!" Ida exclaimed.
Mela was tempted, but now was getting into the delight of panting. There might be even better panties coming. She would find the very best panty for her, and that was the one she would wear. After all, if the fate of the Good Magician Humfrey had once depended on what she wore, she owed it to Xanth to choose carefully.
The next panty was royal deep purple satin, embroidered with woven golden ribbons edged with golden threads hung with little golden bells. With each step she made music, and when she twirled she tintinnabulated.
"You what?" Metria asked.
"I can't pronounce the word," Mela said. "I can't even think it properly, when I try to. It means the way I made the bells ring."
"Tin-can-ambulate?" Okra asked.
"Close enough," Mela decided, going for another change.
The next panty was hand-knitted pink, with matching stockings of pale rose hue, as gossamer as a spider's web on a rose bush. They made her legs feel impossibly slender and smooth. They seemed almost as nice as a tail.
"I always wondered why pink panties are supposed to be so magically wonderful," Ida said. "Now I know. Those are so—so—"
"Only a man could find the word," Metria said.
"A man?" Ida asked. "Why?"
"Because only a man would say that panties are not the best thing in Xanth, just next to it."
"I don't understand."
"That's because you are a nice girl. I, of course, understand all too well."
"Would this snare me a husband?" Mela asked, gazing at her slick bottom in the mirrors. Ida was right: the effect was just so. She twitched a muscle and watched the panty surface flex fascinatingly.
"I'm not sure. I don't think any man has seen those. No men are allowed in here, of course. They would totally freak out."
Mela decided to keep looking. The next panty was country style, with creamy cool white cotton gauze with saucy white linen rosettes and garters.
"Garters?" Okra asked. "What are they for?"
Metria looked at the little snakes. "They are to hold up stockings. They bite down onto them, and then the stockings can't fall. Probably the Gorgon uses them, since she already has snakes on her head. But I fear it might be awkward feeding the snakes, to keep them healthy."
Mela agreed. This was a nice panty, but she wanted nothing in it except herself. She went for the next.
This was another country-style effort. Stone-washed, water-washed bonjour blue cotton denim, with an easy comfort button on the back. Serviceable, but Mela was becoming jaded.
So she tried on a jade panty. It was a deep blue-green with glowing waves which rippled when she moved, reminding her so strongly of the sea that a drop of seawater leaked from her eye. How she missed the deep salt ocean! She couldn't wear this, wonderful as it was, because it would make her forget all else in her longing to go home. She couldn't go home until she had found a prince to take home with her.
"This is special," Metria said as she brought the next panty.
Mela donned it. It was made of milk pods interspersed with stripes of mint, peach, and peppermint. It was nice enough, but somewhat heavy. "How is it special?" she inquired as she stepped out to model it.
"It's edible," the demoness explained. "If you get lost in the woods with no pie trees in sight, you can eat your panty. Or if you nab your man, and he gets hungry—"
"I think I'll try another," Mela decided. It was an intriguing notion, but she didn't want to risk getting eaten by some ardent fool who didn't know where to stop.
The next was a colorful contrast. It was a rainbow moon panty, in several variants, with colors of azure, beach sand, clay, heather, and other. That last color was really special, but she feared it would call so much attention to itself that she herself would be neglected. That did not seem to be the best strategy. A potential husband might decide to marry the panty instead of the merwoman.
Then there was a gossamer silk Bluebeard's blue mist panty, shot through with shimmering silver threads among the gold, sporting sparkling green peridots in pairs of dots all over. But there was some kind of association with the notion of Bluebeard that she didn't quite like.
And assorted hot-pants panties. But the day was already warm enough, and these were threatening to make her break out in an unladylike sweat. Indeed, steam was rising from them before she managed to get them off.
There was a feather panty to tickle her fancy. Unfortunately the feathers tickled more than that. She didn't want to go into a giggling fit the moment a man came near. There was a Queen Anne's lace panty, with exquisite white lace sporting milkweed flower trim with seed pearl centers. The center panel shimmered with a faintly greenish glow from green witch stitchery. There was a spellbinding black lace panty, the lace embroidered with gold thread "rack and runes." The matching lace net stockings had golden zodiac clocks. But who wanted to keep time?
The next was a timepiece of another kind: it was fashioned from sprigs of thyme. "Part of you will never grow old, in this," Metria said.
"But what about the rest of me?" For it occurred to Mela that a man just might want to look at the rest of her, too. In fact, she rather hoped he would.
Next was a knot-so-fast panty made of knotted macramé lace, designed to tease t
he life out of any male lucky enough to catch a glimpse. And a panty to wear up a gum tree: trimmed with a pocketful of gum drops. But she worried about the drops; she might land too hard, and get gummed up in an exceedingly awkward manner.
There were several scented panties; when she modeled them there was the smell of rose, lavender, heliotrope, and jasmine for evening use. And a cowgirl panty, trimmed with lotsa moolah. An an almost transparent panty, shot through with radiant metallic copper and platinum threads. Now this was tempting, because in shadow it would be practically invisible. She could qualify as wearing it without seeming to. Still, if she was going to wear anything, she might as well show it off.
"This, then," the demoness said, handing her something else. "It is a violet d'amore—elixir of love—panty." It was black velvet embroidered with silver spiderwebs shimmering with "dew": tiny diamonds sewn with translucent thread. Ida oooh'd and Okra aaah'd when they saw that.
But Mela still wasn't quite satisfied. None of these seemed to be quite exactly precisely devastatingly her. The demoness frowned, then brought out some truly fancy stuff.
There was the gold coast gold lace panty, trimmed with long chains of tinkling goldfish. When Mela walked or swayed there was gentle music. And the royal midnight blue panty, with a small silver moon complete with tiny moon moths and shining silver stars woven in. As she walked, the stars progressed across the flexing heaven, and the moon waxed and waned mysteriously. That almost satisfied her, but she was concerned about wearing it in daylight. The stars might fall out in the heat of the sun.
She tried a love lace panty, with cotton gauze trimmed with silver filigree fringe studded with heart-shaped amethysts and tiny see shells. And another hot panty, gold lame fire opals on scarlet lace, and spectacularly long floating panels of flame-colored chiffon. Also a metallic mail panty, proof against any attack, trimmed with horrific golden goblin teeth. But she was afraid it would also be proof against the right male.
There was a panty with plain background, embroidered with the words THE ONE I LOVE IS UNTRUE—BEWARE SHE WHO DANCES WITH DEMONS. But she was afraid it might give the one she loved a bad idea, once she found someone to love.
Then there was an ethereal panty: blue green silk, foaming white lace shimmering with pearls, with a faint clinging scent of sea lilies. That very nearly satisfied her, but again she knew that she could not afford to think of the sea too much, lest she lose her stamina and give up on her quest. So that, too, she reluctantly doffed.