There was a pause. She looked up. Why hadn't Metria brought her the next panty?
"You have tried them all," the demoness said, amazed. "We have been here all day. I hardly noticed."
Tried them all? Mela had somehow thought the parade of panties would go on forever. She, too, had not been aware of the time passing. It had been such a blissful experience! But it was all too true; the pantry was darkening.
But now she had to choose from among the myriad she had modeled. Which one? Still she could not make up her mind. They were all so pretty! Yet no single panty had been just purely totally utterly right.
"Aren't there any more?" she inquired plaintively.
Ida and Okra got up and looked through the hanging panties. "There must be just one more," Ida said. "There must be one that's completely right for you."
"Must be," Okra agreed.
Metria sighed. "Very well. I will distill again."
"You will what again?" Mela asked.
"Condense, digest, summarize, refine, search pattern—"
"Seek?"
"Whatever." The demoness disappeared crossly among the panties.
"I think I found one!" Ida cried. She hurried forward, carrying a bit of cloth. "It had fallen down behind another."
Mela took it. It was a dust-covered mass, hardly promising. But she shook it out and took it into the changing chamber. It was comfortable, but lacked any spangles or embroidery. It was just an ordinary panty.
She stepped out and did her little walk and turn. "Ooooh," Ida exclaimed. "That's perfect!"
"Yes, it is," Okra agreed.
"This little nothing?" Mela asked. She suspected that they just wanted her to take it so that they could get out of here. But she looked in the mirrors.
The mirrors made their region brighter. Now Mela saw the full color of the panty. It was a crossbarred pattern, with many hues cunningly interwoven.
"Why that's skirl!" Metria exclaimed.
"That's what?" Mela asked, peering at her full bottom contained in the panty.
"Bagpipe, highland, blanket, Scotch tape, kilt—"
"Skirt?" Okra asked.
"Whatever," Metria agreed crossly. Then she uncrossed. "No, wait, that's not it. Cloth, material, crisscross, distinctive, scarf, tartan—"
"Plaid!" Ida said.
"Um," the demoness agreed, recrossing.
Plaid! Mela hadn't thought of that, but she did like it. She turned around again, watching herself. The plaid flexed and shifted aspects most gracefully. The more she saw of it, the better she liked it. It was conservative without being dull, and its detail was interesting.
Still, she wasn't sure it was perfect for her. Maybe she would be better off in the one with the moon and stars. Or maybe there was one with the sun and blue sky, that would dazzle anyone who gazed directly at it. That would serve the gazer right!
She started toward the changing chamber. "What color is plaid?" Okra asked.
"Why, it's—" Ida started. "That is—"
"It's not exactly a color, it's a pattern," Metria said. "A design. Each one is unique to itself, with its own history."
Now Mela saw that the colors and ratios were indeed shifting with her motions, so that the exact display could never be fixed. That was intriguing. A person could get lost amidst the shifting lines, especially when she was walking, and never be able to say exactly what he had seen.
She decided that she liked this panty. "I'll take it," she said.
Ida went back to where she had found the panty. "There must be spares, to use when the first gets soiled."
"Soiled?" Mela asked sharply.
"Dirty, defiled, polluted, foul, filthy—" the demoness said helpfully.
"Pooped?" Okra asked.
"Whatever." Metria wasn't cross this time, for some reason.
"Whatever!" Mela echoed indignantly. For some other reason, she was now the cross one.
"Wait, I didn't mean that!" Ida protested. "Just that they can get smudged if you sit on the ground, or—ah, there they are!" She fished out two more plaid panties.
Now Mela had not just one panty, but three panties. She was thrilled. She put the two spares in her purse.
Meanwhile, Okra picked up a pair of furry black panties in the ogre style, donning one and saving the other. Since they matched her fur, they didn't show, which evidently satisfied the ogress. Ida took plain white and plain pink and yellow tinged with green panties, matching her hair, but did not put any on; she was already clothed. This was merely a reserve, in case of soilage, or whatever. They were ready to go.
Outside it was dusk. They considered, then decided to spend the night in the pantry, where it was surely safe from monsters. They went out just far enough to take care of private business and forage for food, and Mela was lucky enough to find a pie bush with a plaid-crusted pie on it. She stared, amazed, until Okra joined her, and found a black furry cherry pie beside it. Then Ida came, and found a pink meringue pie. The pies matched their panties! That was the magic of this place.
In the morning they set out again. Metria remained with them, which made Mela wonder, surely the entertainment was over, since the great mystery of the color of her panties had been resolved. It couldn't be because of the goodness of the demoness's heart, because the Metria had no goodness and no heart. But it wouldn't do to ask her, because that could remind her to do some mischief. Maybe the demoness had simply forgotten that the fun was done.
The path wended its way westward in the manner of its kind, through woods and vale, through fields and hills, and through some interesting regions and more boring ones. They had found an enchanted path, so were reasonably safe from molestation. At one point they spied a dragon snoozing nearby. He was a big lusty masculine reptile.
The three mortals paused. "Are you sure—?" Mela asked.
"Can't touch you," Metria assured her. "Can't even breathe fire on you. These paths are absolutely vermin free. All he can do is watch and salivate. You might as well relax and enjoy teasing him."
The demoness always told the truth, so it should be safe. Mela forced herself to breathe normally and led the way onward.
The dragon opened an eye. He blinked. His pupil expanded awesomely. Then he rolled over as if dead.
"What's the matter with him?" Ida asked.
"Routine freak-out," Metria said. "He'll recover in due, subject."
"In due what?"
"Study, orbit, flow, process, mode—"
"Time?"
"Route, bearing, direction, trend, course—" The demoness did a double take. "Course! I got it! In due course!"
It seemed to Mela that her suggestion of time would have sufficed, but the case was not worth arguing.
They went on. They passed a goblin cave. Three ugly mean goblin males stood outside it, staring malevolently at the approaching party. They looked as if they would like nothing better than to swarm over innocent maidens and do unmentionably horrible things to them. But, reassured by the dragon's inability to bother anyone on the enchanted path, Mela strode onward.
The goblins' eyes fixed on her. Then, in turn, they fell forward on their faces and remained that way.
"I never saw a goblin do that before," Okra remarked.
"Another routine freak-out," Metria said. "Think nothing of it."
Later they passed a small human village. It contained three and a half houses. Three bold men and a boy stood watching the path. But Mela figured that its enchantment should be effective against them, too.
The human males stared. Then one fell to the left, another to the right, and the third on his back. Only the boy remained standing, but his face was slack.
"What is it with you?" Mela demanded.
The boy's mouth opened with an effort. "P-p-p—"
"Plaid," Metria said. "Let's move on."
Finally they came into sight of the Good Magician's castle. It looked perfectly ordinary from a distance, and more so as it got closer.
There was a young man walking on
an intersecting path. "Why that's Magician Grey Murphy," Metria said. "This should be really interesting."
Mela still distrusted the demoness's attitude, but couldn't fathom it.
The man saw them and paused. "Why, hello, Metria," he said. "What mischief are you up to at the moment?"
"I am bringing three querents to see you or Humfrey," Metria responded.
"Queer whats?" Mela demanded suspiciously.
"Odd, strange, peculiar—no, wait, it's the right word. It means questioners."
"She's right," Grey said. "Those who come to the Good Magician are querents."
"Let me introduce them," Metria said briskly. "Here is Ida Human."
Ida turned suddenly shy, for she had never before formally met a man of her species. "H-hello," she managed.
He squinted at her. "Have we met before? You seem somehow familiar." "I don't think so," Ida said. "I have lived apart from human folk all my life."
"This is Okra Ogress," Metria said.
"Hi," Okra said, hardly less abashed.
"You don't look like an ogress," he remarked.
"I know," Okra said, ashamed.
"And this is Mela Merwoman."
"Hello, Mela. I have heard much about you."
"I almost married Prince Dolph," she said.
"I remember. However—" Then his eyes, which had been fixed on her upper section, happened to drop to her midsection. They widened. Then they narrowed. "So this is your mischief, Metria!" he said severely.
"Oh, river blockage!" the demoness exclaimed.
"You mean a dam?"
"Whatever. I thought you'd freak out, the way the others did."
"You forget my talent. Begone, Metria, or I'll null you." He reached toward her.
The demoness instantly faded away.
"But why would you freak out?" Metria asked.
"She didn't tell you, of course. It's that magic panty. On a body like yours, it is guaranteed to freak out any male who sees it. Except that I can nullify magic, so can resist it. Nevertheless, you should put on some clothing before you proceed farther."
"But I have some clothing on!" Mela said. "Just as Dana said I should. This is all I have."
"She meant more than a panty. Nude, you can be mistaken for a well-endowed nymph. Clothed you would resemble a buxom woman. But panties alone are dangerous. You are in violation of the Adult Conspiracy."
"So that's what Metria was waiting for!" Ida said. "To see if the plaid panty freaked out the Magician!"
"Precisely. I suppose you should proceed to the challenges now, and Sofia will see to some clothing for you once you are inside. I must go now; I wish you well."
"Thank you," Mela said faintly. Oh, that demoness!
CHAPTER 8.
Godiva
Gwendolyn Goblin was thrilled with and nervous about her new lenses. They worked perfectly, but this business of seeing dreams was daunting. Would the bad dreams of others frighten her? She hardly wanted to find out.
She also felt guilty about letting Jenny Elf serve for Gwenny's Answer. How could she ever repay Jenny for this? If she managed to become chief, she would not be available to return the favor by serving a year for an Answer for Jenny. Her responsibility to her tribe would come first. She was likely to be stuck with this considerable favor owing.
Dana Demoness was surprised to see them. "But who freed you early from the gourd?"
"Jenny did," Che said. "Her talent makes her able to escape the dream realm."
Dana nodded. "That is more of a talent than it seems. I suggest that you keep Jenny close by you, and that you do not tell others about this."
Soon Ivy and Grey Murphy were there. "They have the lenses, so there wasn't any point in remaining in the gourd longer," Dana said.
Ivy seemed nonplused. "Of course. But—" "Let it pass," Grey told her. Perhaps he had caught on; he had an understanding of how magic could be canceled magically, or perhaps he had seen it in the Book of Answers.
"Will you be going directly to Goblin Mountain now?" Dana inquired.
"Yes, I think I must," Gwenny said. "The longer I'm away, there more mischief there may be." She looked at Jenny. "It may be dangerous. Maybe it would be better if you stayed here, to do your year's service."
"No, I will see the mission through," Jenny said firmly. "I want to see you be chief. Then I'll return here."
"But if something happened—you know how mean goblins can be—"
"That's why I have to be there to help you."
"She's right," Grey said. "There will be time for her service."
Gwenny remained frustrated. She just couldn't seem to do anything good for Jenny! Yet at the same time she was relieved that Jenny would remain with her. They had been friends for two years, the best years of Gwenny's life, and she wished that could continue forever.
"You will need a pass for the Gap," Ivy said. "I'll write one out."
"A pass?" Gwenny asked blankly.
"The shortest route from here to Goblin Mountain is a straight line. You won't want to take the longer route to cross the bridge over the Gap Chasm. That means you have to go down into it. The pass is so that my friend Stanley Steamer, the Gap Dragon, will know not to eat you."
"Oh." Gwenny was not thrilled with the notion of going down into the Gap. But unless she wanted to accept a lift from the winged monsters, that was the way she would have to go. "Thank you."
"I did not realize that the dragon could read," Che remarked.
"He can't," Ivy said. "But the paper and ink smell of me. He won't chomp anyone with this." She handed it to Gwenny. "Just don't lose it!"
"I won't." Gwenny tucked the paper into her pocket.
Soon they were on their way, following an enchanted path northeast. There were several bypaths which surely led to interesting things, but they were determined not to be distracted, so hurried on along the main path without pausing at any of the diversions. Just to be sure, Jenny had Sammy Cat pick the route at each intersection, because Sammy knew they were looking for the fastest way to Goblin Mountain, and he could always find the right path.
Nevertheless, they noticed some of them. One side path was marked STOCK MARKET—SEE THE BULLS AND BEARS. Gwenny was extremely curious about those animals, for she had never seen either variety in Xanth. They could hear an occasional noise, as if big creatures with hard feet were stampeding, alternating with depressing growls. Whatever could be going on there? Another side path was marked COM-PEWTER—THE NICE MACHINE. Gwenny didn't quite trust that either. A third path was marked THE BIG TOP; they were able to see the upper surface of a mountainous spinning top beyond the trees.
Then they encountered someone going the opposite direction. It was a young human man and an odd dog. The man was perfectly ordinary, but the dog was made out of stone. The two came to a halt as they saw the three.
"Oh, hello," the man said. "Are you looking for the Good Magician's castle? Because if you are, you're going the wrong way."
"No, we just came from there," Gwenny said. "We're going to Goblin Mountain."
He peered down at her. "I say! You're the prettiest goblin I've seen!"
At that point, by sheerest coincidence, a shy fly came by and smacked her right in the face. Gwenny started blushing too badly to speak.
Che stepped forward. "Perhaps we should exchange introductions before we part," he said. "I am Che Centaur, and this is Gwenny Goblin and Jenny Elf. And Jenny's cat, Sammy." Sammy was sniffing noses with the stone dog.
"I am Alister," he said. "And this is my dog Marbles. We're going to ask the Good Magician about finding a magic talent for my father. My talent is finding things. I can find anything except an answer."
"That's Sammy's talent!" Jenny exclaimed. "He can find anything except home."
Alister was surprised. "I thought no two people ever had the same talent."
"Sammy's an animal."
"Oh. Then it must be all right. I was afraid we were in the wrong time, or something."
"St
ranger things happen," Che said.
"Actually, I was amusing myself on the way, because I know this path leads to the Good Magician's castle. I was seeing whether I could find special things along the way, without deviating from the path. This time I had decided on the prettiest girl in the region. I can see my talent is in good working order." He glanced again at Gwenny.
And she had the tremendous misfortune to get stung by another shy fly just at that moment. Again, her blush drowned out her effort to speak. Oh, how that embarrassed her!
Then they resumed their walk to the northeast, and Alister and Marbles continued southwest. Gwenny wondered whether they really could be in the wrong time. Wouldn't that be odd, meeting folk who were there some other time!
"Actually, the soldier Crombie finds things, too," Che remarked in an afterthought. "I understand that he closes his eyes, whirls around, and points, and whatever he is seeking is in that direction. But he's pretty old now, so maybe he doesn't do it anymore."
Gwenny finally recovered from her shy attack. How embarrassing to have it happen just then! He had seemed like a nice young man, for a human being. "Maybe it isn't finding that's the talent that can't be repeated," she said. "Maybe it's how a person finds something. Crombie whirls around, and Sammy just runs; Alister must have some other way."
"That is surely it," Che agreed.
"Meanwhile we had better find a place to camp for the night," Jenny said.
Sammy bounded ahead. Jenny ran after him, as she always did. "Wait for me, Sammy!" she cried, as she always did. But he didn't wait, as he always didn't.
Gwenny and Che were used to this. They ran along after the two. Soon they came to a pathlet to the side, and ran down it. It led to a large spreading tree. Its branches formed a big cuplike center covered by broad mottled leaves. Sammy jumped right up into this cup and stopped.
Gwenny examined one of the leaves. She discovered to her surprise that the mottles were in the form of legible print. I AM THE MINISTREE. WELCOME TO MY BRANCH.