Question Quest Part 1

Question Quest.

By Piers Anthony.

Chapter 1: Lacuna.

Lacuna was slogging through a blue funk. It clung to her body, making her seem prematurely middle-aged. It infused her clothing, making it dowdy. It smirched her face, making wrinkles start to think of appearing. It washed through her hair, rinsing it dishwater dull. In fact, it permeated her whole life, making her thirty-four years old.

She had been young once; she was sure of it. She and her twin brother, Hiatus, had been genuine mischief as children. She remembered fondly how they had messed up the wedding of Good Magician Humfrey and the Gorgon, when they were only three years old. At that time their parents, the Zombie Master and Millie the ghost, had been sharing the Good Magician's castle, because it dated from the time eight hundred years before when their parents had first lived. It had seemed only natural that the cute twins should carry the end of the bride's long train. But they had done more than that. Hiatus had made eyes, ears, and noses sprout from things, that being his talent, and Lacuna had changed the print in the manual so that instead of saying things like "until death do you part," it had said "the few measly years before you croak.' For some reason Lacuna's mother had not found that very funny. Well, Lacuna was older now, and could see her mother's point. But it only reminded her how she herself had never married. She would have settled for the worst of weddings, for the sake of a good marriage. Or for a mediocre marriage, instead of mediocre old maidenhood.

Later they had moved to New Castle Zombie in southern Xanth, which had been fine. She and Hiatus had had separate rooms, and had teased the poor zombies mercilessly. Somehow it seemed that the best of her life had been used up in childhood. Once she grew up and joined the Adult Conspiracy, her life had become a time of tedium followed by a period of monotony trailed by an age of boredom working into years of sheer unmitigated blah. Finally the funk had set in, and now she was fed up to her tired eyeb.a.l.l.s with it. So she was doing something about it: she was visiting the Good Magician with a Question.

Now she came to the region of the Good Magician's Castle. It was not as she remembered it, because it kept changing. She understood that, and was not put off. She knew that she would have to brave three challenges before she could get in and see the Good Magician. At least they should be interesting.

A low jungle surrounded the castle. The magic path she was on led right up to it, then petered out in a thicket of hands and feet. She recognized the type: palmettos. The palms were on stems, their fingers splayed, while the toes grew along the ground, covering it up.

Well, such plants were generally harmless. The palms could get a bit fresh when buxom young women brushed by them, but they would probably just ignore Lacuna. Still, it was best to find a path through them, because dangerous creatures could hide among them and attack the feet of someone who plowed blithely through. So she walked to the side, finding a s.p.a.ce between plants.

In a moment her way was blocked again by thickly growing palmettos whose fingers clutched at her plain cloth skirt and whose toes tried to catch her dull shoed feet. She avoided these by turning to the side again. But this wasn't getting her into the castle; she was actually going away from it now.

She reversed her course and explored on the other side. But seemingly promising avenues curled their way into dead ends, preventing her from getting any closer to the castle. How strange! How could the magic path have been overgrown like this? It was supposed to be enchanted to-Then she realized that this was the first challenge! She had to find her way through this thicket of hands and feet, without getting into trouble. It could have been worse; she would really have hated walking over a potato patch and having all those eyes peer up under her skirt and wink at the dull color of her panties. Men never quite appreciated why women always cut the eyes out of potatoes, first thing. Or maybe they did, because when men got hold of potatoes they planted those eyes in the ground, where they would grow into plants with more potatoes and more eyes.

Fair enough. There was always a solution to the challenges, if the person had the wit to find it. It had been that way in Magician Humfrey's day, and remained so in Magician Grey Murphy's day. Murphy had tried to run the castle without the challenges at first, but had been overwhelmed by folk with Questions, and so had adopted Humfrey's policy. He also now required a significant service for his Answer, which could be anything up to a year of mopping floors in the castle. That tended to discourage frivolous Questions.

Well, she was prepared to mop. It wouldn't be any duller than her prior life. But she doubted she would have to, because she had something she believed Grey Murphy wanted very much: the key to his freedom from Com-Pewter. Com-Pewter was an evil machine made of pewter and gla.s.s and crockery and wires and things, who sought to rule Xanth. Com-Pewter had two and a half great a.s.sets in this quest. First, the evil machine could change reality in its vicinity, merely by printing new situations on its screen. Second, Grey Murphy was bound to serve Com-Pewter the moment he finished his service to Good Magician Humfrey, who was absent for the time being. Second and a half, Com-Pewter had inanimate patience. So it could wait a lifetime if need be, and the moment Humfrey returned, Pewter would have the service of a full Magician and could more actively set about taking over Xanth. Lacuna could do something about that, and she thought Grey Murphy would be interested. Certainly his fiancee, the Princess Ivy, should be, because she didn't quite dare marry Grey until that little business was settled. If not-well, then, Lacuna would mop.

Provided she could just get into the castle! The more she tried to make progress toward it, the more she seemed to make regress away from it. The palmettos did not seem to move, yet somehow they were always in her way. Where was the path through?

Or was she supposed to get rid of them somehow? To cut a path through? She didn't have a suitable knife, and her talent of printing wouldn't do for this. So there had to be some other way.

She paused and pondered. She was fairly well educated, because there wasn't much point in changing print if a person didn't know what it meant to begin with. She ought to be able to think of something.

Then it came to her. She was standing at yet another dead-end pathlet, having just about lost herself amidst the palmettos. "I think I'll get out of this stupid patch of hands and feet," she said loudly. "I'm tired of these pointing fingers and scuffled toes and pointless paths." Then she marched resolutely back the way she had come.

But almost immediately she encountered more palms and toes, blocking her way out. She had to turn aside, trying to move directly away, from the castle and not succeeding. She made a snort of impatience and moved on, looking for the outward path. "I know it's here somewhere," she muttered. "I came in on it, after all!"

But somehow the way continued to elude her. She moved faster, as if trying to find her way out before the palms could change their positions and block her off, but this didn't work either. She only found herself driven back farther into the thicket. The more she struggled to get through, the farther back she was driven by the uncooperative paths.

Finally she found the entire circle of palmetto between her and the magic path away from the Good Magician's castle. She had only succeeded in pa.s.sing through the thicket the wrong way.

"Well, if that's the way you want it," she said with irritation bordering on mirth. She turned to face the castle, having navigated the first challenge.

Behind her the palms rustled and the toes scuffled in the dirt. They were chagrined. They had been outsmarted. They had labored successfully to foil the route she said she wanted, not being clever enough to see through her trick. Had they had brains as well as palms and toes, it might have been a different matter. But of course that was the nature of these challenges: to find the weaknesses of them and successfully exploit those weaknesses to win through.

Now she stood by the moat. There was a boy of about ten swimming in it. He looked ordinary, except that his hair was blue. That suggested that there was no moat monster or other threat in the water. The drawbridge was down, too, so if this wasn't an illusion or trick, she could cross without challenge. That was just as well; she didn't fancy getting wet.

She put a foot cautiously on the end of the drawbridge. It was solid. However, a section of it might be illusion or have a trapdoor or something, so she would proceed with excruciating care. The worst challenges were the ones a person didn't expect.

Something flew by just in front of her. It appeared to be a ball of water. It landed and splatted on the bank. It was water.

She looked in the direction from which it had come.

There was the boy, scooping up another handful of water and forming it into a ball.

"Are you going to throw that at me?" she asked.

"Sure, if you try to cross the moat. I'm supposed to stop you, you know."

"Oh, so this is a challenge?"

"Sure. Nothing personal. You look like a nice lady."

It had been so long since anyone had said anything like that to Lacuna that she almost blushed with pleasure. But this was business. "A little ball of water wouldn't stop me."

"Then how about a big ball?" He scooped up a double armful, and formed a ball of water as big as a beach ball.

"You couldn't throw that," she said.

For answer, he heaved the ball over the drawbridge. It just seemed to float up without much effort on his part. Such a ma.s.s could indeed knock her off the bridge.

"Well, then, I'll just have to wade or swim across," she said.

The boy swept his hand across the surface of the moat. Suddenly there were waves on the water, cruising outward and lapping the bank. He made another pa.s.s, and the waves got larger. They were formidable enough to make her hesitate.

"Your talent is water magic," she said. "That is impressive. What's your name?"

"Ryver." He scuffled a toe in the water. He seemed shy, now that she was getting personal.

"So you must be serving a year, for an Answer."

"Yes."

"If I may ask-why did you come to the Good Magician?"

"Oh, sure, you can ask! I asked him how I could find a good family to adopt me, 'cause I want to be a real boy, and I need a real family for that."

"You're not real?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm not a real boy. Not a flesh one, I mean. I'm made of water."

"Made of water?" Now she was really curious. "You can work with water, and control it, but that doesn't mean you're not human."

"I can work with water because I am water," he said. "See." Then he dissolved. His feet flowed away, and his legs, and the rest of his body, up to the head. "I look like a boy, but it's all water. I'd rather really be a boy, and have water control as my talent. And I will be, if a family adopts me. The Good Magician says."

She nodded. "So after your term of service is done, you will set out on a search for a good family that wants a boy your age."

"Sure! Do you think I'll find one?"

He seemed so eager that she didn't want to dash his hope. But it did seem doubtful. Most families preferred to raise their own ten-year-old boys. "Did the Good Magician say you would find one?"

"He said his Book of Answers said that I would, if I did my job well and was polite to my elders. So I'm doing those things."

He certainly was! He was effectively stopping her from crossing the moat, but he was being courteous about it, warning her rather than hitting her with water, and answering her questions. He seemed like a nice boy.

"Well, I hope that's right. But meanwhile, you know I have to find a way across despite your efforts."

"Yes. I wish you luck, but I have to stop you if I can. If you try to swim and my waves make you start to drown, I'll save you. I wouldn't want to hurt anybody."

"I appreciate that." There was no irony in her statement; it was clear that this was a challenge, not a duel to the death, and Ryver was just doing what he had to do.

She considered for a while, and pondered for a bit, and thought for a moment, while Ryver dissolved his head into water, then reformed into a whole boy, in-eluding clothing. He looked completely real, and she was sure he was real; he just wasn't made of flesh. If adoption into a human family enabled him to be transformed into flesh, that would nice for him. She understood that ordinary people were mostly water anyway; Ryver just took it farther.

She got a glimmer of a notion. "Ryver, can you read?"

"Oh, sure. The Sorceress Ivy taught me to read. She showed me how to start, and then Enhanced me into being competent. That's her talent, you know. But you know, most of the books they have at the castle are sort of dry, pardon the term, and not much fun, if you're not into arcana."

Lacuna had suspected as much. "It happens that my talent is changing print. I can also make print appear where there was none, and I can control what it says. Let me show you something interesting to read."

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed. "I won't make a deal to let you get through! That's not right."

"Dear boy," she said, "I am not trying to bribe you. I'm trying to trick you, which is fair enough. I am going to show you some print, and if you don't find it interesting, don't read it."

"It won't work," he said.

She glanced at the now calm surface of the moat. Abruptly words appeared on its surface, sliding across from right to left, forming a moving band of words. They disappeared as they reached the left margin, so that the whole moat wouldn't get covered with print.

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A WATER BOY NAMED RYVER WHO WANTED TO BE A FLESH BOY, the rolling print said.

"Hey, that's about me!" Ryver exclaimed.

"Well, actually it's a standard story; I just filled in your name to make it more interesting."

"That's okay." He continued reading, because otherwise he would lose some of the moving words. He was, as she had suspected, fascinated by references to his own name. Many folk were, especially if the references were complimentary. It could work even better if the references were insulting, but she lacked the gumption to write trash.

She poured it on. NOW ONE DAY RYVER WAS SITTING BY THE BANK OF THE MOAT, WATCHING THE FISH, WHEN A STRANGE CREATURE CAME BY. IT WAS A DRAGON LOOKING FOR A TASTY FLESH MORSEL TO FRY. "HA!" SAID THE DRAGON. "I SEE YOU ARE JUST THE KIND OF PERSON I NEED. COME WITH ME AND I WILL GIVE YOU AN EXPERIENCE LIKE NONE OTHER."

"Kuh-uh!" The live (or water-formed) Ryver grunted. "You won't fry me, you vicious animal!" He was evidently getting into it. Lacuna heated up the Script. "OH, IS THAT SO?" THE DRAGON SNORTED, HIS BREATH SCORCHING THE PLANTS BY THE BANK. "I'LL HUFF AND I'LL PUFF AND I'LL FRY YOUR HEAD OFF!"

"Yeah, fire-brain? I'd like to see you try it!" the real Ryver said.

SO THE DRAGON HUFFED AND IT PUFFED AND IT BLASTED OUT SUCH A BLAST OF FLAME THAT THE GROUND TURNED BLACK AND SPARKS FLEW FROM THE STONES AND STEAM ROSE FROM THE MOAT. BUT IT COULDN'T FRY RYVER, BECAUSE HE WAS MADE OF WATER. THEN RYVER MADE THE WATER RISE UP AND SMACK THE DRAGON RIGHT IN THE FACE.

"I guess that doused your furnace, soggy-snoot!" the boy cried happily.

WELL, THAT MADE THE DRAGON ANGRY. SO IT OPENED ITS JAWS AND CHARGED. IT CHOMPED RYVER RIGHT THROUGH THE CENTER, BUT ITS TEETH HAD NO EFFECT, BECAUSE THEY COULDN'T CHEW WATER. AND RYVER SQUIRTED JETS OF WATER IN ITS EYES AND EARS. THE DRAGON HATED THAT, BECAUSE n.o.bODY LIKES TO HAVE HIS EARS WASHED.

The text continued, and the boy kept reading avidly. He didn't even notice that Lacuna had crossed over the drawbridge. That was all right; she had left enough text in the queue to hold him for half an hour. She hadn't known how long it would take for him to be completely distracted, so had put in plenty. Anyway, she was pleased that someone really liked her writing. She had learned to tell stories to children when she was babysitting, and rather enjoyed it. Ryver was a perfect audience.

Now she was across the moat but still outside the castle wall. There was a door right before her. She walked up and turned the handle. But it didn't work; the door was locked, and she didn't have the key. Obviously she had to find the key; this was the third challenge.

She looked around. There was a fairly narrow path that circled the castle just inside the moat. It was lined by bushes that resembled shelves; their stems were vertical and their branches horizontal, with the leaves filling in to complete the pattern. They had squared-off large berries that looked rather like books on the shelves.

A boy was sitting on the bank, picking the berries and eating them. He looked a lot like Ryver.

"Who are you?" she inquired, not really expecting an answer.

"I am Torrent, Ryver's twin brother."

Could she believe that? Well, maybe for now.

"What sort of plants are these?" she asked.

"They are library bushes," he responded. "They have endless information, which I get by eating the fruit."

This was almost too good to be true, so she knew it probably wasn't true. But she would find out. "Then you must know where the key to that door is."

"Sure. Here it is." He handed her a large wooden key.

She tried the key in the lock. It wouldn't fit. It was the wrong one.

She returned to the boy. "It's not the right key. Where is the right one?"

"On the other side of the castle."

She doubted it, but proceeded on around. There was a small metal key lying on the path. She picked it up and walked back around to the door. It didn't fit.

She looked at the boy, who was still eating berries. Twice he had directed her to the wrong key. He was obviously not telling the truth. How could she make him tell the truth?

She decided to experiment. "Torrent, are you part of this challenge for me?"

"Yes."

"So you are supposed to misdirect me, and prevent me from finding the key.''

"No."

"And you do that by lying to me."

He hesitated, and she knew why. If he lied, she would know it, which would make the lie worthless, but if he told the truth he wouldn't be misdirecting her. "No."

Which meant that he did. "So you lied about your ident.i.ty, too. You are Ryver."

"No."