Question Quest Part 15

"I, uh, think that would be something alongside of or beyond magic," I said, terrified of being shown up as an ignoramus. "Maybe something that-"

"Inadequate!" he roared, cutting me off. He glared around the cla.s.sroom. "You numbskulls come here with heads full of mush"-he glanced significantly at Beauregard, who cowered in his chair-"and bad att.i.tudes"-he glanced at Metria, who was doing her nails-"but maybe, if you survive, you will eventually learn something about magic." He glanced at me, and I was electrified: I had found faint favor!

We listened, fascinated and terrified. What a creature!

"Simply put, metamagic is that magic which affects, or is defined in terms of, magic itself," the professor continued, edifying our mushy brains. "The one-time king of the human aspect of Xanth, Roogna, adapted living magic to suit his purpose. The other-time king, Ebnez, adapted inanimate magic similarly. Those are examples of metamagic. Someone who could emulate or otherwise affect the magic talents of others would be indulging in metamagic." The professor continued, and I was rapt; he knew more about magic than I had dreamed existed!

Hours later, dazed by the day's cla.s.ses, I found myself back in my room with Metria and Beauregard. "What a monster!" Beauregard exclaimed.

"What boredom," Metria added.

"What genius!" I concluded.

The other two looked at me. "I can see why Grossclout likes you," Beauregard said.

"I can see I have my work cut out for me," Metria said, dropping into a chair.

"What work is that?" Beauregard inquired naively.

She spread her legs, giving him a good view under her short skirt so that he could see her panties. "To distract this tree-blood from his studies."

I had thought demons had seen it all, but evidently Beauregard hadn't. His gla.s.ses turned pink-the exact shade of the panties. There certainly was a difference between demons! "What?"

"Ignoramus, numbskull, blockhead, dunce, simpleton, nincomp.o.o.p, fool, b.u.mpkin-"

"Sap?" he asked, catching on at last.

"Whatever. I win if he doesn't get his degree." She closed her legs.

Beauregard's lenses began to clear. "I, uh, had better go," he mumbled.

"The toilet's there," she said, and the door to that chamber appeared.

"No, I mean-I don't know what I mean." He stumbled out. There was a "ho, ho" from a wall; apparently I wasn't the only entertaining figure here.

"That wasn't nice, Metria," I said reprovingly.

"Oh? What's wrong with it?" She opened her legs toward me. Now her panties were blue.

"What's wrong is that you're supposed to be tormenting me, not him-and I care a whole lot more about metamagic than I do about your faked-up underwear."

For once she was silent, but she looked ready to explode into a fireball. "Ho, ho, ho!" a wall laughed.

When, tired but exhilarated by learning at the end of the day, I came to bed, there was Rose of Roogna under the sheet. I froze, amazed. "H-how-?"

"Oh, my love, I just couldn't wait," she said breathlessly. "I had to come to you."

I got into the bed with her, hardly believing my fortune. "But how did you find your way here, Rose?"

She kissed me pa.s.sionately on the mouth. "I looked in a tome for a period."

"A what?"

"Epoch, age, duration, era, term, time-"

"Spell?"

"Whatever. Clasp me close, my love! Make that stork jump!"

"Sorry, Metria. I have a hard course of study ahead."

She kissed me again. "Really goose that stork! I'm ready-" She broke off, realizing that I had seen through her little charade. "Peaches and cream!" she swore, turning into a fair emulation of the stork she had described.

"Ho, ho, and ho!" a pillow chortled, before getting smashed by a wing.

I did seem to be holding my own. I hoped Metria never caught on to how near she had come to fooling me.

The year pa.s.sed in days, I mean a daze. I progressed rapidly, because I had already studied everything magical I could find and I was absolutely fascinated by the subject. Metria, unable to admit how badly she had misjudged the situation, settled into a polka-dot funk and finally drifted away, bored furious. I spent a lot of time with Beauregard; we did homework together. He was bright enough, just young for a demon. He would surely get his degree in time.

Before I knew it, I was embroiled in my dissertation: "Lost Human Castles with Magical Implications." I had a head start, because I had already found Castle Roogna, but now I had to run down the other great lost castle, that of the Zombie Master. It wasn't all that far from Castle Roogna, as the dragon flies, but it was a devious and messy distance as the magic student walked. I finally located it, and discovered that it was a rather nice place, now that the zombies were gone. In fact- A light blinked over my head. This would be a fine place to live with Rose after we were married! I couldn't live in Castle Roogna, because I would not be king and was not of royal lineage. The castle, as I understood it, was quite strict about that. But once I married her, I could take her away with me. Castle Zombie was a fine and private place, ideal as a reclusive retreat for those without pretensions.

At last the grueling course was through. I knew more about magic than any living man before me, yet my thirst for more remained. Professor Grossclout was almost approving: "In another century you may be a credit to your species," he remarked gruffly.

I defended my thesis successfully, though the demon interrogators made me sweat. "What you have here is competent. But why haven't you covered all the lost human castles with magical implications?" one asked sharply.

"But there are only two," I protested, suddenly uncertain.

"What of the Ivory Tower?" he demanded. "What of New Castle Zombie?"

Professor Grossclout nudged him. "Those have not yet been constructed," he murmured.

"Oh. Well, what of the Nameless Castle?"

Grossclout nodded. "He did miss that. However, two out of three isn't bad."

Nameless Castle? I had never dreamed of such a thing. Where and what could it be?

So I made a C minus, but I pa.s.sed, thanks to Grossclout's favor. It seemed that he appreciated having a student who was genuinely interested in the subject, even if some mush remained in his head.

I had my degree. I was now a true Magician of Information. I could marry Rose at last.

Chapter 10: h.e.l.l.

To her great surprise, Rose found herself awakened by the delicious smell of hot coffee, though she had harvested no hot coffee mugs recently. What was happening?

Millie the Ghost floated in. "Good morning, sweet lady!" she cried, excited. "You looked so peaceful sleeping there that I hated to wake you, but it's past dawn and the wedding party starts by midmorning at the latest. Magpie is bringing you a drink to make you alert."

"Who?" Rose asked dazedly.

"Magpie. She's here to help get you through this day."

"But there's no other living person in Castle Roogna except me!" Rose protested.

"Yes. She's one of Humfrey's cla.s.smates."

Now Rose understood. A demoness. She had learned a lot about demons in the past year, and no longer feared them. She understood their nature reasonably well and was careful, but knew that demons were merely another of the formidable species of Xanth, like the dragons and basilisks.

Magpie came in then, carrying the coffee, which she must have imported from far away. She looked just like a bustling matron, with her gray hair under a white lace bonnet, and a black wool and feather dress. She set the mug down on the table beside Rose's bed, then went to poke her finger at the fireplace. A fire burst into being there, casting its warmth into the chill room. For Rose had chosen not to use any of the main bedrooms of the castle, feeling unworthy; she had taken a little attic chamber, and up here it did get cold at night.

Rose drank her brew while Magpie busily fetched the clothing. Actually it was more than the mug; the demoness had thoughtfully laid out a small breakfast of orange (or perhaps dark yellow) juice, fresh toasted breadfruit slices, and rose-hip preserves. This dainty meal would do until the wedding feast. "Thank you, Magpie; I am starving!"

"Call me Mag," the woman said, and continued her business. Rose realized that the woman's name was probably ironic; a magpie was a garrulous bird, but this one spoke only briefly.

Rose got up, wincing at the cold stone floor her tender warm feet encountered. She hugged her nightdress close about her and sat in the chair at the table. The day would warm in time; it always did. Meanwhile, the blazing fire certainly helped; that was an unaccustomed luxury!

While Rose ate, the realization washed over her. She was getting married! She could still hardly believe it. But Humfrey had completed the university program and now had his degree, which meant he was officially a Magician and eligible to marry her. She had seen it all in the Tapestry, and gotten the words from a magic mirror. Castle Roogna knew it too, and would not try to prevent the wedding. It believed that at some time in the future Humfrey would return and be king; a new prophecy had appeared in the Book of Prophecies to that effect. So it was half a loaf for the castle, but not even magic castles had everything their own way. The technicalities of the situation had been met.

Rose would have preferred to have the Wedding of the Century. But that would have attracted the attention of the Storm King, and there was another prophecy warning against that. "If the Storm King discovers activity at Castle Roogna, he will destroy it in a firestorm, for his successor will reside here," that prophecy said. It seemed that the Storm King was young and imperious, and resentful of anything that might conceivably threaten his authority. His correct action would have been to bring his retinue and live at Castle Roogna, but he was a homebody and preferred to remain in the North Village. Thus the very existence of Castle Roogna was an implied rebuke, and activity there would have suggested that a new King was being cultivated to replace him. So the wedding had to be quiet, and the castle had to remain anonymous. But in time there would come a new King, and it seemed likely that it would be Humfrey. After all, if the Storm King died and there was no other Magician in Xanth, Humfrey would have to take it. So Rose would settle for the quiet wedding, and wait on events. It wasn't as if she were inexperienced at waiting.

She finished eating and stood looking about. She discovered to her great delight that Mag had antic.i.p.ated her desire for a bath, on this Day of all Days. To one side of the brick fireplace, aromatically burning crabapple sh.e.l.ls and logs, the large wooden tub had been brought in and filled. Steam redolent with rose petals perfumed the room.

Soon Rose was settled in her tub, her curly rose-colored hair pinned atop her head. She settled herself deeply into the hot water. She could feel her dry skin soaking up the rose milk and becoming dewy and moist again. It was the beginning of the magic transformation that any wedding wrought: a pretty young naive girl would become a beautiful and competent woman. She had seen this transformation occur any number of times in the Tapestry history; now it was her turn.

"What a pity," Rose said, and burst out laughing.

Mag jumped, and little b.u.t.ton Ghost, who had drifted in to watch the activity, spooked away in fright. There was a scramble as the Monster Under the Bed retreated farther into the darkness, and a rattle as the Skeleton in the Closet did the same.

"I only meant that it will be too bad to lose another innocent," Rose said contritely. "Marriage does that, you know; it sacrifices innocence." Actually, she had long since fathomed the key elements of the Adult Conspiracy; she had after all been twenty years old before coming here, and there were things she had seen in the Tapestry that-well, it had been an education. She had also noted the little tricks the Demoness Metria had tried with Humfrey; those had not been successful, but their general import had been plain enough. So in her case it would be more symbolic than actual; still, she was experiencing the mixed thrill and tragedy of it.

Rose washed her long, silky hair, pouring out warm water from a pewter pitcher. Little did she know that one day in the far future that pitcher would be stolen from the castle by a demon and used as the basis for a dreadful malignant mechanical thing called Com-Pewter that would be a constant menace to all things halfway decent in Xanth. This was just not the sort of thing innocent maidens were capable of knowing. Mag presented her with a cake of soapstone; it smelled of her natural attar of roses fragrance. When she finished, Mag offered her a huge fresh cottonwood towel.

Now that she and her hair were clean, Rose was ready to be Attired in one of several glorious dresses she had harvested from the dress tree in the orchard for the occasion. One by one Mag handed her gossamer silken panties, pink creamy chemise-teddy, smooth stockings of gold thread, and a long whispering silken underskirt. Next came the overskirt and bodice of the gown. The central panels of the dress were embroidered in tiny seed pearls, crystals, and smoky topazes in a field of yellow roses upon the rich gold-colored silk. When she moved about the dress gave off a faintly rosy reddish gold glow. Her golden living frog sat in the middle of the rosette on her sleeve. The skirt of the gown came to the floor. The neckline was so low that Mag drew in her breath in a matronly gasp of disapproval. Rose's eyes widened to see her b.r.e.a.s.t.s exposed almost to the rosy nipples. She had not realized that the decolletage was quite that daring! The gown was simply wonderful! With that deliciously low neckline Rose might even stand up to the compet.i.tion offered by those bare-breasted mermaids and all the other alluring maidens the Tapestry had shown her. Not to mention that horrible Demoness Metria!

Suddenly (it seemed) it was time for the wedding. It was held in the main ballroom of the castle, and if it was not the Event of the Century, it was hard for her to know the difference. The demons had turned out in force, for this was rare entertainment for them. Normally they were not wanted at weddings, for some reason. They were all solid, and behaved meticulously, with all the males being in tails and the females in floating gowns. Beauregard was best man and Millie the Ghost was maid of honor, and b.u.t.ton Ghost carried ghost flowers, and Professor Grossclout conducted the ceremony, having authority that no man or demon had ever dared question. Metria was there too, of course; she couldn't be kept out. She played the role of Former Girlfriend of the Groom, and was really quite effective in portraying resentment about the proceedings. One might almost suspect that there was just a bit of human feeling in that demon callousness.

But about all Rose noticed was that Humfrey, despite pushing forty, was clean and almost handsome in his own formal suit. He seemed truly glad to be there, which was a relief. It wasn't necessarily so with grooms, no matter how ardent they might be at other times.

They must have said their vows, because now there was an expectant hush. Humfrey faced her. "Take off your wedding cap and veil, Rose," he said.

She blushed meekly, made abruptly shy by his request. "You do it," she whispered.

He stepped forward and gently drew the heart-shaped spiderweb lace cap and diaphanous bridal veil from her head. Then his competent hands moved to undo the diamond and living golden frog hairpins that held her tresses in place. To his evident surprise the hair fell in a silken waterfall down, down to below her hips.

"It is a lovely la.s.s you are," he murmured softly in her ear. "Your hair is indeed like rose petals." His hands slid through the perfumed ma.s.s of it. "I think it is time, Rose of Roogna, that we seal our marriage with a kiss."

He tangled his hands in her hair and drew her face forward. In his eyes she could have sworn she saw the images of flying storks, and she knew she was seeing through them into his mind. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

At once Rose felt as if the blood in her veins had turned to glowing golden lava from a volcano of love. She could not move. She never wanted to move again. She loved her husband, Humfrey. She would love him forever.

There was a sound as of the rippling of wavelets on a sandy beach. It grew to resemble the splash of the surf on firm rocks. Then it became the roar of the storm-driven sea against a stony cliff. No, it was not her heart, it was the applause of the audience. The marriage had been sealed.

Then it was done, and the demons were gone, and it was the Morning After. Standing on the ramparts of Castle Roogna, gazing down at the ruins of the gardens, Rose decided that she did not regret any particle of the prior day's proceedings. Not the wedding, certainly, and not the reception, and not the banquet. Not even the dancing under the New Baby Moon. And not the night of love, wherein they had tried so ardently to summon a phalanx of storks. That was only partially effective, as it turned out; only one stork came, in due course, bearing Rosetta Bliss Humfrey, or Roy for short, whose power was to animate inanimate things for a while. But that was in the moderately near future; right now it was a beautiful day. The sky was spreading itself like a peac.o.c.k's tail, turquoise blue, gold, and copper, luminous and brilliant. A spicy warm breeze was blowing in straight off the High C and Lost Keys. Everything was ideal.

She looked at her reflection in her maiden's mirror. Her romantic heart shimmered and softened. She did not look like an experienced woman who had been thoroughly indoctrinated into the practice of the Adult Conspiracy! She looked more like a maiden who had just begun to wonder about such things. Perhaps it took practice to develop the proper expression.

She went to her rose garden. She hated to leave it, but knew it would endure as she had, here at the castle, living without aging. Rose herself had to leave, of course, to be with her husband, and the spell would be off. But that was all right; how could a person truly live life, if she did not age? She wanted to grow old with Humfrey.

She sifted through the rose petals, ashes, and dust of the garden. There were pebbles, thorns, tiny gems, a small leather scroll doc.u.menting the marriage, and- UGH!-a long many-legged pennypede bug. It was harmless, unlike the larger nickelpedes, so she left it alone; it preyed on things that might otherwise attack her roses.

A shadow dimmed the light. It was Humfrey. "I have brought a magic carpet to the front," he said. "We can go, now, my precious wife."

She glanced at the roses, whose power was to test true love. That test had never been necessary, with Humfrey. "The scroll-I had it here with my darting roses. But if I am not to remain here-"

"Bring it along," he said, smiling. "The roses need no doc.u.ment."

So she tucked it into a pocket in her skirt. Then she went with her husband to the carpet.

They sat on it, she in front, he behind. The magic of the weave would keep them safe on it. "To Castle Zombie," Humfrey said.

The rug lifted smoothly and circled up. In a moment it was above Castle Roogna. Rose felt tears streaming down her face as she gazed down at the castle which had been her home for almost two and a half centuries. It had taken perfect care of her! But now she had her true life to live. "Farewell, dear castle!" she cried, waving to it. "Thank you so much for everything!"

A pennant waved, which was odd, because there was no wind.

It was not far, as the carpet flew, to Castle Zombie. The thing was relatively horrible, with a muck-filled moat and decaying vegetation around it. But the zombies were gone or safely buried, and she knew it was a serviceable estate. The Zombie Master had died more than seven centuries before, so this castle had been deserted even longer than Castle Roogna. But it had been soundly constructed, despite its seeming decrepitude, and she knew it could be cleaned up.

Humfrey brought the carpet down in the rear of the castle. They got up and walked to a fence. He pushed open the garden gate made of driftwood and led the way into a small secret garden. Rose followed slowly down the narrow stone path. Tiny spiders had decorated every weed with their webs, and mice rustled under the leaves. Overall, there was a lingering smell of decay. "I thought you might have your rose garden here," Humfrey said.

Suddenly she was glad he had shown her this first. "Yes, I shall!" she exclaimed, delighted. She would make another rose garden! Roses would brighten this dreary region right up.

Then he led her to the front portcullis. Humfrey picked her up and carried her gallantly across the threshold, and set her down inside. Rose quailed; there was not a stick of furniture inside. Then he brought her to what she thought of as the captain's cabin: a large almost oval room so richly appointed that it was obvious that no human agency had done it. It had a fireplace with a malachite stone mantel with green ivy carved on it and great golden-winged lions holding the mantel shelf on their heads. Above it was a magic silvered mirror. On the mantel was a pair of magic pewter candelabra that burned without ever consuming their fine none-of-your-bees-wax candles. At the head of the bed was a rose window facing west that allowed the cabin to be flooded with light. The walls were hung with three well-worked moving crewel tapestries. The demons must have set this up during the night, and Humfrey had surprised her with it. What a delight!

Humfrey stood in the middle of their bed chamber, which had a priceless antique thick carpet on its wide wooden floor. The fireplace was lit with fireweed, and the air was fragrant with incense. "We can be very happy here, my wife," Humfrey said.

Rose was sure of it.

They settled into married life. Humfrey, nagged by the things he had not yet learned, embarked on his most ambitious project yet: he was compiling a Book of Answers. In it would be the Answer to every possible Question anyone might ask. He started by listing everything he had learned in his early survey of talents, which was considerable, and added whatever he could learn from the texts in the Castle Roogna library, which the castle allowed him to check out one at a time. He supplemented this with field trips, making copious notes. He kept himself so busy that some days Rose hardly saw him at all. But she wasn't concerned; she had lived alone for so long that it was not much of a burden, and she could contact him at any time by using a magic mirror, and he would always come immediately when she asked him.

In fact there was a certain delight to these brief separations, because every time she saw him again Rose experienced the intense jolt of feelings that seeing him always gave her. Love made him handsome to her, though she knew that this was not an objective judgment. She heightened the effect by dressing him well. She would send him out one day with shades of blue in his shirt, trousers, and cloak, complemented by sandy tan desert boots. Another day it would be shades of brown or gray. He always carried a battered bulging sack full of books, tomes, and spells over his shoulder; she could not do much about that, but she did tie matching ribbons to it. Sometimes he got caught out in the rain, and silvery rain drops sparkled like gems in his hair and on his driftwood staff. Then she would take him in and dry him off and comfort him with kisses, restoring his humor.

Meanwhile, she set the castle in order, eliminating the last vestiges of zombie occupancy. She started the rose garden; how could she endure without roses! She kept the kitchen filled with homemade soup and love. Sometimes she accompanied Humfrey on his field trips, delighting in the carpet rides and the picnic lunches.

But soon she had to stop this and stay home, because she was expecting the stork and it just wouldn't do to be away when it arrived. She had a horror of arriving home and discovering the baby deposited in the fireplace or somewhere, all dirty. Storks were notorious about their schedules; if the mother was not waiting for the stork's arrival, it dropped the baby off anyway, ready or not.