Faun And Games Part 17

They lurched away from the bushes. Cathryn was trying to work her way past a counter made of packed beans. "I can't get by this bean counter," she complained.

A head formed from the counter. "Of course you can't," it said. "Nothing gets by me."

But Forrest saw something else. It looked like a huge man, bigger than an ogre, but it was standing quite still. His feet seemed to become roots, and his hands sprouted coin sized mints. "What is that?"

The centaur glanced at it. "A Man-Age-Mint, I think," she said.

Then she brightened. She plucked a mint from the tree and stuffed it into the mouth of the bean counter's head. "Take that," she said with satisfaction.

The bean counter began to fade. His beans became shriveled. A vile odor of indigestion issued from him. "Help, I'm genuinely aging!" he cried.

"That's because you ate the mint," Cathryn informed him. "Now you will age rapidly into stinking extinction, unless you do whatever the Man-Age-Mint plant demands."

"What does it demand?" the bean counter asked.

"Count its mints," she said.

" But I'm a bean counter. I don't count mints."

"Too bad. I hope you fade out before your odor of spoiled beans permeates the entire neighborhood."

"I suppose I could count some mints," he said dolefully. "One, two, buckle my shoe; three, four. . ."

Then, while the counter was distracted, they squeezed by it and out to decent terrain. They had gotten back through the comic strip without quite going crazy.

"Some day I'm going to gather a posse and stamp out every pun in existence," Cathryn muttered.

They went to the section where they had first met the centaur. It was interesting to see her age as she walked, progressing from foal to gangly juvenile to early filly and finally to fully flushed young female. Her ma.s.s changed, but didn't seem to affect her directly; she evidently didn't have to eat to add weight, any more than she had had to eliminate to lose it. He knew that he and Imbri were aging the same amount in years, but it didn't make as much difference to them.

Then Cathryn stopped. "Are we ready for the next adventure?" she inquired. When there was no objection, she lifted the dear horn and blew on it.

There was no sound. Yet the centaur stood as if enraptured.

"Marvelous!" she breathed.

"But it didn't work," Forrest protested.

She didn't even waste a glance on him. "You forget that only the one who blows it can hear it. The echo is from that direction." She pointed due east.

They set off east. That was a relief, because it was open range and ordinary trees as far as the eye could see; no pun strip to struggle through.

But Cathryn was getting young again. That was mischief of another nature. Suppose her True Love were beyond her range? That would make him truly inaccessible.

And that was what happened. The centaur grew smaller than either of them, and had to pause. "This is near the limit of my range," she said.

"I can go farther, but I won't be able to talk, because I didn't learn until I was two. You will have to go on without me."

"But we can't hear the echo," Forrest protested.

"You won't have to. Just continue in a straight line, and you will encounter him. He hasn't moved in some time, so he may be sleeping.

Bring him here, and your service will be complete. I'll wait."

Forrest exchanged a look with Imbri, but since it was the same look, neither gained anything from it. So they walked forward, following the direction.

" Suppose the limit of his range is beyond hers?" Forrest asked Imbri when they were beyond the hearing of the centaur. "So that they can never meet?"

"I don't think the dear horn works that way," she said. "The ideal 'True Love has to be one you can be with. I hope."

He hoped that was true. But things were so odd here on Ptero that he lacked confidence.

They saw an odd region to the south. It was somewhat foggy, but they could see a number of figures standing there, like statues. "Do you suppose her True Love could be there?" Imbri asked.

"It's not the right direction. But we could ask." He used a hoof to mark a line pointing the right direction, so they could resume travel without going astray, then walked south. They entered the fog somewhat warily, but it seemed to be harmless.

Forrest approached a glowing young woman. "May we talk to you?" he asked her.

"Sure," she replied. "That's what we're here for."

"All the people are here to be talked to?" Imbri asked.

"Yes. This is a section of limbo. We are the characters who aren't even might-he's. I'm Astride"

"But what kind of existence do you have, then?"

"A very feeble kind," the woman said sadly. "We all long to achieve regular might-be status, but we can't until someone takes an interest in us and recognizes our talents."

Imbri exchanged half a look with Forrest. Characters who weren't even might-he's?

"If we talk to you and identify your talent, will you become a might-be?" Forrest asked.

"Yes! Please do that. I would do anything to become might-be real. Do you need a girlfriend? I'm rather metallic, but I can be very soft when I want to be, in the manner of my mother's side of the family."

"I don't need a girlfriend. I'm a faun. I just chase nymphs. No relationships last longer than a day, and most are merely minutes. But I'll be glad to help you. How do I recognize your talent?"

"You just talk with me and ask me questions until you are able to figure it out. I can't tell you, because I don't know it, but I can tell you anything else about me."

"How can you know about yourself, if you aren't yet real, or even theoretical?"

"Well, I haven't done anything, of course, because limbo is the place of nothing doing. But every person has an origin, so I have a family history. I can't tell you that on my own, but will do so if you ask."

That seemed straightforward, or at least not too far angled. "Who is your father?"

"Esk Ogre. His father is Smash Ogre, and his mother is Tandy Nymph."

"Oh, you have some nymphly ancestry," Forrest said, becoming more interested.

"Yes. About a quarter. So I'm sure I could run and scream in the nymphly way, and do what nymphs do, if you are interested."

Forrest was interested. "Can you kick your feet cutely, and fling your hair about?" For these were specialties of nymphs, and such actions really delighted fauns.

"I'm sure I can. How's this?" She flung her hair so violently that her feet left the ground, and she kicked her bare legs in a fetching manner.

"Well, perhaps-" But then he saw Imbri frowning, and realized that he was drifting from business. He was just trying to find out about this region, in case it held a clue to the whereabouts of Cathryn's True Love. "Who is your mother?"

"Bria Bra.s.sie. That's where I inherit my metallic nature from. She's made wholly of bra.s.s, but I'm only half bra.s.s. So I can become halfway hard, but that's not my talent. I'm also fairly strong, from my ogre heritage, and not too bright."

Something connected. A bulb flashed over Forrest's head, exactly as in Xanth proper. "I think you're mistaken, Astrid. You are bright. Your talent must be shining."

"Oh!" she cried, suddenly glowing more brightly. "Yes that's it!

I know it now. Oh, thank you, faun." She grabbed him and kissed him, and she was right: she was surprisingly soft beneath her coppery sheen.

"I'm halfway real now!"

"You're welcome," Forrest said.

"Oh, I think I'll kiss you again, and maybe even-"

"There is no need," Imbri said quickly.

Actually Forrest wouldn't have minded, as he hadn't celebrated with a nymph since his arrival on Ptero. But of course Imbri was right: they had to get on with their business.

So Astrid ran off to find her proper territory. Forrest and Imbri returned to the line he had drawn in the dirt, to resume their quest, as there didn't seem to be much help in limbo. How could the folk there know about Cathryn's True Love, when they had no experience as might-he's?

Before long they came to a small forest of normal pines. It would have been better to avoid them, but then they would have lost their direction, so they went straight. Tears ran down their cheeks as they brushed by the trunks of the sad trees. Then they entered a glade and there was a juvenile centaur.

"Young," Imbri whispered. "Maybe eight years old. So he can go forward and overlap Cathryn's range. Eight years isn't too much of an age difference."

"Yes. The dear horn knew what it was doing." But then he had a bad thought. "If this is the one."

"It has to be. We wouldn't have encountered him otherwise. There's always reason for folk to meet, in Ptero."

That did seem to be the case. So they approached the centaur. He was standing within a circle of fourteen crosses set upright on the ground.

He looked out at them. "Hey, want to play crosses?" he asked.

"Actually, we have come on a more serious matter," Forrest said. "We would prefer to talk."

"Well, I want to play crosses."

Forrest saw that this was in the nature of an exchange of services.

"Suppose we talk while we play crosses?"

"Well, okay, I guess." He sounded just like a human boy of that age, which was surprising, because centaurs were generally far more intelligent and adult than humans. How could this be the ideal love for Cathryn, who was a true centaur in att.i.tude?

"Very good," Forrest said, though he was afraid it wasn't. "I am Forrest Faun, and my companion is Mare Imbrium."

" so? "

"So what's your name?"

"Oh. Contrary."

That figured. "Well, Contrary Centaur, let's play the game and talk.

You will have to explain the rules to me."

So they played the game while Imbri quietly watched. "It's like this," Contrary said. "We take turns standing inside the circle of crosses.

The one outside takes a cross and throws it at the one inside, and he can't dodge or anything."

Forrest was not especially pleased with this. The crosses were small, but what if one hit an eye? It could hurt. "And what then?"

"That's it. Ends when we run out of crosses."

Forrest remained uneasy, but there was nothing for it but to play the game so he could talk. He hoped that he could ascertain whether this was the correct centaur, and he hoped the answer was no. "Who starts in the circle?"

"You do. You're the challenger."

Forrest stepped into the center and stood still. Contrary walked around outside, eyeing Forrest from every angle. Then he pulled a cross out of the ground and threw it at Forrest's face.

If the centaur expected his target to flinch, maybe forfeiting the game, he was disappointed. The cross struck Forrest between the eyes. It didn't hurt; in fact it disappeared. But his eyes felt funny.

He looked around. He saw two images of the surroundings, and a lot of fuzziness. What had happened?

Two young centaurs trotted up. "Okay, your turn."

Forrest knew there was only one centaur. Why did he see two? He made his way out of the circle as much by feel as by sight. He saw two Imbri's sitting just far enough from the pine trees so she wouldn't cry.

"What-?"

"You're cross-eyed," she murmured.

Then he caught on. The cross had made him cross-eyed! So he couldn't properly focus on things.

He turned to face the centaurs. He closed one eye, and one image disappeared. It would be harder to aim, but he could do it; tree fauns were good with wood. So now he could throw a cross at Contrary and make him cross-eyed too. Or were there other choices?

He decided to experiment. He pulled up a cross, aimed very carefully, and threw. Contrary did not flinch, and the cross struck him on the back of the head.

Nothing visible happened. Then the centaur spoke, frowning.

"What you do that for?" he demanded crossly.

It had worked: now Contrary was really cross. "I want to know something about you," Forrest said, as he came in to exchange places. "Do you ever go west?"

"What's it to you, goat hoof?" the centaur demanded angrily.