Demons Don't Dream Part 13

The black men glanced at each other, and glanced at bit longer at Nada. "Sure, let's talk," Jaff agreed.

They walked into the village, where there was a larger, more finished house. They settled on crude wooden chairs. Jaff seemed to be the spokesman, since they had talked with him first "We're from what you call Mundania," he said. "We crossed only a couple of years ago. We were having a bad time, no good jobs, things were tight, and then somehow we found this path to this magic land and we said, h.e.l.l, it can't be worse than what we face at home! So we moved here, with our families. But there were some strange things here, like pies growing on trees, and real live dragons, and goblins. So we found a place to camp and sort of hunkered down, and now we're trying to decide whether to settle here or look around some more. We've seen some of the people here, and they're white. We're not sure how they'll be. We don't want trouble, we just want decent jobs and lives. But things just seem to get weirder, the farther we go in this land, so we aren't sure yet what to do."

"You must be a Wave!" Nada exclaimed.

"A wave?"

"A Wave of Colonization. There have been ten or so, and each Wave usually brings a lot of violence, but not all of them. So you must be the Black Wave. If you don't want to fight, I know the folk here don't want to fight you. We always need more human folk in Xanth, and there are plenty of places to live."

"This sounds pretty good," Jaff said. "Still, we'd like to check it out before we do anything much."

"Look," Dug said. "I'm just a visitor here myself, as I told you. When my game finishes, I'll have to go back to Mundania. But I don't think there's anything in the rules that says I can't take someone else along. I should get a good tour of the region, because I have to find whatever it is I have to find, and anyway, I can make side trips if I want to. So I think it's a fair deal. You fix me up with some supplies, and a weapon to defend myself, and I'll take along one of you, and he can ask all the questions he wants, and maybe find the place you're looking for. Then he can return and tell the rest of you about it"

Nada was uneasy about this, and not just because of her ugly mission. "I don't know."

Dug turned to her. "You have a problem with that?" he asked, half smiling.

"Yes. You are a Player, and I am here to guide you and protect you, to the best of my ability." That was now a half-truth, and she hated it, but she was bound by the rules of the game. "But it is not my job to guide or protect any other person. I might save you from mischief, but the other would suffer it, when he wouldn't have if he had not come with us."

Jaff looked at her. "You are protecting him?" He was obviously dubious.

"You saw me change forms," she replied evenly. "I can become a big serpent if I choose."

"She sure can," Dug said enthusiastically. "She backed off a flying dragon once! And she knows Xanth, so she can keep me out of trouble, if I don't insist on blundering into it anyway."

Jaff looked at his wife. Mari spoke. "She's a good person, Jaff. She's a princess of her kind. Her folk fight goblins."

Jaff turned back to Dug. "We're ready to risk it if you are."

"Then let's do it," Dug said. "Who is coming?"

There was a pause. Then a man who seemed to be in his thirties spoke. "I think I can handle it"

The others nodded agreement "Sherlock can handle it," Jaff said.

"I'll have to get things from Smith," Sherlock said.

"By all means," Jaff agreed. Sherlock went to another part of the village.

So they got together supplies, and gave Dug a good solid club for a weapon, and Sherlock joined the small party. He was neither large nor handsome, but seemed alert Nada wondered whether he was a plant by the game, representing some additional challenge. After all, the Isthmus Village had led them into a considerable challenge, and Black Village was where it had been, so must have been arranged by the game. Dug had chosen to get along rather than antagonize the folk of the Black Wave, but the challenge might not yet be over. Should she warn him about this, or keep silent?

She was now a False Companion. She kept silent.

The three of them were soon on their way along the path. But evening was approaching, just as when they had pa.s.sed this way before. Was the time fixed by there location, or was it coincidence? She had thought it was still morning when Dug lost the riddle contest and left the game, but perhaps it had been afternoon. So this might be evening of another day. It really didn't seem to matter. All she had to be concerned about was getting him safely through to Com-Pewter, and if he didn't lose to the infernal machine again, she would find something worse to make him lose. Then she would be free of her uncomfortable obligation, and if he came back a third time, and chose her again, she might be a Fair Companion.

"We shall have to make camp for the night, soon," Nada said.

"Right," Dug said. "And we know where. Let's get on to it"

"You know where?" Sherlock asked. "I thought this region was just wilderness. We have explored it, and found no safe havens."

Nada nodded. "That must be right," she agreed. "This is our second effort in the game; Dug got eliminated by Com-Pewter, the evil machine, and had to start over. The geography got changed, so probably the enchanted campsite we found before is no longer there."

"The geography changed? When did you pa.s.s this way before?"

"Yesterday," Dug said. "There was a different village here then."

Sherlock shook his head. "We have been here for a year."

"Well, you would say that. You're part of the game."

"No, you are part of the game. We came to Xanth on our own, and I a.s.sure you, it is no game to us."

Dug looked at Nada. "Can you figure this out? Which is real: what we saw, or what they saw?"

"That's easy to resolve," she said, realizing what the key had to be. "The path is enchanted, not to protect us, but to direct us to the challenges of the game. So Isthmus Village must be in one place, and Black Village in another, and the path took us to each in turn, making it seem that they were in the same region."

"Isthmus Village," Sherlock said. "We know of that. It is about a day's walk from here. The people are taciturn and unfriendly, and they refuse to use any expressive words."

"That's changed," Dug said. "They were being oppressed by a censor-ship, but we managed to douse its censers, and now the folk are expressive and happy again."

"I wish there were a ship we could abolish, to make us welcome," Sherlock said.

Nada realized that though she was doomed to betray Dug, she did not have to do the same for Sherlock, whether or not he was part of the game. "I do not think you are unwelcome here," she said. "Mundania is a dreary, awful place, but this is Xanth."

"It may be Xanth, and it may be magic, but we have encountered unfriendly animals and people," Sherlock said. "The Isthmus Villagers, the dragons, the goblins-"

Nada laughed. "Those don't count! The Isthmus folk we explained about; they were unfriendly to us too, at first. Dragons always attack people; they see us as prey. And goblins are mean to everybody, unless they are taught respect. That is improving now, since Gwenny became their first lady chief, but that's only one tribe; the others are still bad. You don't seem to have met the regular human folk of Xanth yet"

"It's true. You are the first travelers to pa.s.s who accepted us. The others either shied away without coming into the village, or were polite but refused to a.s.sociate with us. That's why we were cautious about you."

"The others were probably cautious because they didn't know you," she said. "Strangers can be dangerous. Even strange trees can be dangerous."

He laughed. "Yes, so we discovered. There's the one full of tentacles-"

"Tangle trees," she agreed. "There are many dangers in Xanth. That's one reason the visitors in the game are given Companions to guide them. I don't know everything about Xanth, but I can spot the obvious threats." She paused. "For example, there's one now. Don't touch that object." She pointed to something lying in the path ahead of them.

"That's just an old horn," Sherlock said.

"That is a stink horn," she said. "If you touch it, it will make a foul-smelling noise."

Dug laughed. "Say-that sounds like fun!" He bent to touch the horn.

"No!" Nada cried, but she was too late.

BBBRRRRRRUMMPPp.o.o.pOOHH! It sounded like the worst imaginable odor as it blew back Dug's hair and smirched his face. He stumbled away, but it was no good; the stench had gotten on him.

"Oh, now we'll have to clean you up," she said, dismayed. "Otherwise you won't be fit to be near."

"That's for sure," Sherlock agreed, holding his nose. "She did try to warn you."

Fortunately there was a small stream not far away. They went to it-but Nada hesitated. "I don't mink that's a normal stream," she said.

"I don't care what it is, I just want to get clean," Dug said. He dipped his hand and scooped out water to splash on his face. "Uh-oh."

"You'll have to wash your clothes, too," Sherlock said. "Maybe you better just change to new ones. I see a trouser tree nearby; I'll see what else I can find."

Dug just squatted there, staring into s.p.a.ce.

"Come on, get out of those things," Nada said briskly.

"No, I can't do that," he said. "You would see me, and I am very sensitive to that, because you are a beautiful princess I would like to know better, and I don't want to make a bad impression on you, and I would make a bad impression if I appeared naked before you, and anyway I don't know if there really is anything else to wear, so I had better stick with what I have on, and in any event I have to wait to see what Sherlock comes up with, and wasn't I a fool to touch that horn, it really stunk me up, and I wish I had listened to you, but naturally I had to just barge ahead and get in trouble, as I always do, because that's my nature, and I see the disgust on your face, and that hurts me because that's not the way I want you to see me, because I'd rather be kissing you, you lovely creature, in fact if I had my druthers I'd do more than kiss you, but in this weird land I can't even look at your panties without getting booted from the game, and that's a real pain, so I just have to keep quiet about it and try not to make a fuss, but you must really be disgusted right now, I know I sure would be if I were in your shoes, and"

"That's a stream of consciousness!" Nada cried, appalled.

"they are very pretty shoes too," he continued without interruption. "I must say, more like slippers, really, making your feet look nice, and of course your legs look nice too, and I'd really like to run my hands over-hey, why am I talking like this?" he demanded, dismayed. "I can't stop myself, I'm saying everything that's on my mind, no privacy whatever, and every time I look at you it gets really embarra.s.sing, because"

"The water of the stream of consciousness made you have to say everything that's on your mind," she said loudly, using her own voice to drown out his voice, in an effort to prevent him from embarra.s.sing them both any more.

"all I can think of is how luscious you are, and I don't care if you are a princess, and are several years older than me, I just want to grab you and"

"I will go fetch Sherlock!" she screamed, and fled before hearing any more. What a disaster this was!

She found Sherlock, who was returning with shirt, trousers, and shoes. "Did you get him clean?" Sherlock asked. "Or do you want me to scrub him, you being a woman?"

"That's a stream of consciousness!" she cried. "He's speaking everything on his mind!"

His eyes traveled up and down her torso. "That's bound to be trouble," he said. "Is mere an antidote?"

"I don't know! I don't know what to do!"

"Then we'll just have to gag him until we figure some-thing better out," Sherlock said. "Here, I found a scarf, too; it should do the trick."

Dug saw them coming. "I don't want to be saying all this!" he said, looking desperate. "It's just coming out. Anything that triggers a thought, out my mouth it comes! Now I'm bound to say something about race relations, because Sherlock is black, and I want to keep my mouth shut, and I can't, and I'm bound to insult somebody even though I don't want to, and what are you planning to do with that scarf? You're not going to choke me, are you? I really don't mean to be like this, I can't help it if my crowd never let me play with black children, and my friends called them ni-" He stifled himself by clapping his hands to his mouth.

"This is a gag," Sherlock said. "Let me put it on you." He did so, and Dug did not resist. He had at last been silenced.

Nada concluded that Sherlock knew what to do. "I will go look for a campsite," she said, and walked away.

She was in luck. There was an enchanted campsite in a different place from the prior one. They would be able to spend a safe night. She set about garnering fruit and pies for supper, and canvas for a tent.

After a while the two men joined her. Dug was clean, in the new clothing, and still gagged. He looked grateful rather than miserable. Sherlock, instead of being a burden to have along, had turned out to be a great help.

What a disaster it would have been had she been the one to touch that stream of consciousness! She would have blabbed out her False Companion nature. She hoped the effect did not last long with Dug; this job was difficult enough without that.

Sherlock looked around. "I don't remember this place, and I've been through here. I'm sure it was just plain old forest before."

"It must have been set up for the game," Nada explained. "The game is superimposed on Xanth, and interacts with Xanth, but we don't want to bother too many regular Xanth folk who know nothing about it"

"But your path led you right to our village," he pointed out.

"Either you are game folk, or the demons decided you were a legitimate challenge," she said.

"Maybe it doesn't matter. Just so long as we find a good place to settle. We don't want to remain where we are, but we don't want to walk into trouble either."

"If you are the Black Wave, you will find a place to settle. Every other Wave has. Maybe Dug's challenge here is to help you find that place. From what he says, I gather that some Mundanes would not even try to help you."

"That's for sure!" He hesitated. "If this is where we spend the night - separate tents?"

"If you prefer. I change into my natural form to sleep. If you don't mind being in the company of a human-headed serpent, it would be easier to set up just one tent"

"For sure. If Dug doesn't mind,"

Dug gagged, shook his head no. He didn't mind.

"Then let's see what we have here." Sherlock opened his pack and brought out a coil of wire. "We can tie this between two trees, to support the canvas. And I have metal tent pegs too; they hold better than the scrounged ones, usually."

"You have metal things?" she asked, surprised. "How did you get them?"

"Smith makes them. Anything we need, from swords to plowshares. He really knows how to work metal."

"He has magic? He can change the form of metal? Usually, those from Mundania lack magic."

"No magic. He's trained, is all."

Dug laughed through his gag. They looked at him, so he pulled it down. "Black Smith!" he said. "It does make sense." Then he pulled the gag back up before he could say too much more.

Sherlock smiled. "He's a blacksmith, certainly. But what would be the point of magic, since he can do it all with fire and tongs?"

"Well, a magical blacksmith would shape oars from ores, getting an iron oar, or silver oar," she explained "Something like that. Maybe not silver, as that isn't black. It sounds as if your Mundane Black Smith is more versatile."

"Maybe so," he agreed.

They put up the tent and settled down to supper. But another problem appeared: how was Dug to eat with the gag on?

"I wonder," Sherlock murmured. "The way things work here, maybe it would do."

"What would do?"

"I saw some humble pie growing near the river," he said, rising.

"Humble pie!" she exclaimed. "Maybe it would!"

So Sherlock fetched a humble pie, and they fed Dug a piece. In a moment Dug's endless monologue faded out He was now too humble to bore the others with all his thoughts.

"How did you ever think of that?" Nada asked, impressed.

Sherlock shrugged. "Elementary," he said. He had not eaten any humble pie.