The Color Of Her Panties Part 36

Then Gwenny had a desperate notion. Maybe she could distract the roc!

She walked back toward the center of the chamber. She aimed her wand and concentrated on the lovely crystal egg, It rose and hovered above the stone nest. "Look, roc!" she cried. "I'm taking your egg!"

The bird's head snapped around. The huge eye fixed on the floating egg.

"Squawk!

So the monster did understand human speech well enough. "Don't move, or I'll drop it," Gwenny said.

The roc took a step toward her. Gwenny shook the wand, and the egg bobbled dangerously. "It will shatter on that stone," Gwenny warned. "If you take another step, I'll do it. After all, it's my friend's life I'm fighting for." The bird considered. Rocs were not known for their imagination, as they were bigger than anyone's imagination, but now Gwenny saw a mental picture forming. It seemed that the bird was trying to get the picture straight so that she would know how to act, and at the moment the picture was somewhat tilted. In the center of that picture was the shining egg precariously balanced above the nest.

To the side was Gwenny with her wand.

In the picture, the roc launched at Gwenny, snapping her up and swallowing her in a trice. But the egg dropped on the hard place in another trice, and shattered into one thousand and one glittering fragments. The picture tilted worse and dissolved; that was definitely no good.

The picture formed again, of floating egg and standing goblin girl. This time the roc launched at the egg, trying to catch it before it fell.

That seemed more promising.

"Oh, no, you don't, Rocky!" Gwenny cried, moving the wand so that the egg sailed away from the bird.

The roc's picture tilted and dissolved. It was replaced by one of herself, somewhat fuzzy, as if something was interfering with her thought.

"Her name's probably not Rocky," Jenny called. She was able to see the mental pictures too, because she had the other lens.

"Rockhead?" Gwenny asked. The picture fuzzed worse. "Rockbound?

Rock-a-bye-baby? Rockfall? Rocking chair? Rock-'n'-roll?" The picture blurred into obscurity.

"Try female names," Jenny suggested.

"Roch.e.l.le?" The picture brightened. "Roxanne?"

Suddenly the focus was perfect: that was the name.

"You are able to communicate?" Che inquired. He had landed at a safe distance. "Then get her to talk about herself. Then maybe she'll forget about chasing us."

Good idea! "Well, Roxanne," Gwenny said, "we didn't know you were alive. We thought you were part of an exhibit. We have to get the egg if I am to become chief of my tribe. It's nothing personal. It doesn't look like a real egg. Are you sure you couldn't let us have it for a day or two? Then we could bring it back."

Roxanne's mental picture exploded into smithereens.

One smither zoomed so close that Gwenny had to duck.

It seemed that the egg was not available for a loan.

"But the egg won't be much good to anyone if it shatters, " Gwenny said.

"And I'll drop it or loft it against a wall if I have to."

The roc moved sideways, not approaching the egg, but also not retreating from it. Gwenny didn't drop it, because once it shattered, she would have no hostage against the rage of the bird. So they were at an impa.s.se.

"How did you come by this egg, since I don't think you laid it?" Gwenny inquired conversationally.

That set off a new picture. Roxanne was flying across Xanth, covering an ordinary landbound creature's hour's travel with every wing beat. She was young and her feathers were bright. She saw a high mountain and flew to investigate it, having the curiosity of youth.

"What are you seeing?" Che called.

"A big, tall, two-peaked mountain," Gwenny called back. "With a temple at the base and a giant tree growing on the summit."

"But that's Mount Parna.s.sus!" Che protested. "No one's allowed to fly there!"

"And on the tree sits a bird the size of a roc," Gwenny continued, "with iridescent feathers. Roxanne is flying right toward that bird, thinking maybe it's another roc."

"That's the Simurgh!" Che cried. "The oldest creature in Xanth! She has seen the world end and be recreated three times! She doesn't allow anything to fly in that vicinity!"

Roxanne heard him speaking. Her head c.o.c.ked toward him. Then she leaped. Che tried to take off, but couldn't get his wings properly set.

He tried to gallop away, but the great talons of the roc's foot closed about his body.

Gwenny and Jenny screamed together. Then Gwenny collected a few of her scattered wits. "Let him go!" she cried. "Or I'll drop the egg!" She wiggled the egg with the wand.

Roxanne refused to be bluffed. Her mental picture showed the egg dropping-and right after that, the little winged centaur being squished into purple pulp.

Gwenny didn't dare drop the egg while Che was all right. But she certainly would if the roc hurt him. So it was another impa.s.se, but now Roxanne was in a better bargaining position than before.

The big bird carried Che to a cage set high against a wall. She popped him in and slammed the door closed with her beak. Gwenny saw Che try the door, but it was securely locked; he could not get out. He was all right, but captive.

Gwenny knew that if she shattered the egg, the roc would simply go back and squish Che, so the impa.s.se remained. How was she going to get him free?

She decided to try the dialogue again. Maybe she would learn something that the roc wanted more than the three of them to eat. "Roxanne, what happened after you encountered the Simurgh?" she asked.

The roc came to stand at the same distance from the egg as before.

However, Gwenny took the precaution of lofting it so that it hovered above the rim of the stone nest.

If it dropped there it would certainly shatter, with half of it falling outside the nest. She wouldn't have to guide it at all; if she simply dropped the wand, the egg was doomed.

It was evident that Roxanne understood. It was dangerous to go after Gwenny herself.

However, Jenny Elf was not necessarily safe. "Jenny, don't let the roc get near you!" Gwenny called.

"I won't," Jenny agreed. She was hiding under the ramp, where it would be difficult for the big bird to grab her.

The picture formed again. Young Roxanne in her innocence was flying directly toward the Simurgh. The sitting bird glanced at her. The picture filled out with increasing detail, becoming a full-fledged dream, so that Gwenny found it easy to follow. In fact it was as if she were experiencing it herself. That was part of the nature of dreams, they were magically easy to believe, even when they made little or no sense. So she seemed to be flying over Mount Parna.s.sus.

She looked around and saw that the mountain was actually made of huge scrolls and books. Many were weathered, with bushes and even trees overgrowing them, so that on the surface they might not be evident, but from this vantage they were. Well, Parna.s.sus was known as the residence of the Muses, who were reputed to be literary folk; maybe these were books they had written. Roxanne had no interest in the Muses and less in books, but was slightly intrigued by the fact that the tomes had acc.u.mulated into a mountain. What a lot of waste effort!

The sitting bird twitched one feather.

Suddenly Roxanne's wings lost purchase. She flapped them wildly, but they had little effect. It was as if the air had stopped having substance, so that she could not fly.

She barely made it to the ground without crashing. After that she could not take off again no matter how hard she tried. She was mysteriously grounded.

She was on the side of the mountain. She had to move by walking, which was embarra.s.sing; trees kept obstructing her, and she had to knock them down. What had happened to her?

She found a pool and waded in it to cool her feet. Then she dipped her beak and took a swallow. The water was cool, but it warmed her throat.

What kind of water was this?

Then she identified the taste. This was a wine spring!

Tiny folk of the human persuasion appeared around the edge of the pool.

They seemed to be all female, and very active. They charged in and tried to attack Roxanne. Well, that made them that much easier to snap up; a good meal was here for the taking. She caught one in her beak and took a closer look. Didn't human folk normally wear clothes? She must have misremembered, because this one wore none. Maybe they had come to swim. Well, it hardly mattered. She dipped the one in the wine for better flavor, then gulped her down. She was as delicious as any giant worm. So there was no danger of going thirsty or hungry here.

The wild women kept coming, so Roxanne kept swallowing them. She had never had as good a meal this readily. Not since she had split a fat sphinx with her male friend Rocky. They had gorged until satiated. "I can't believe I ate the whole thing," he had squawked. That was an exaggeration; he had eaten only half. But she knew exactly how he felt.

They had been too heavy to fly, and had had to sleep on the ground for several days before getting trim enough to resume normal elevation. But it had been worth it.

That reminded her. She spread her wings, pumped them, and leaped into the air. Only to flop back into the drink with a ferocious splash that nearly drowned several wild women who had been trying to hack off her feathers.

She remained ground bound, and it wasn't from overeating. Something was seriously wrong.

She waded from the pool, seeking a suitable roost for the night. The wild women followed, still trying to stab her, so she made a sweep of one wing and dumped them in a pile back in the pool. Then she made her way to a niche in the mountain, found a suitable outcropping of rock, and settled down to rest. When the wild women came at her again, she spread her wings and flapped forward, and the wind blew them back into the pool. After a few times they realized that they weren't getting anywhere, and let her be.

Now she had time to think. How was it that her wings had the power to blow enough air to sweep the wild women into the drink, while they couldn't lift her into the air?

They seemed to be functioning normally, except when she tried to fly.

What could account for this?

Offhand, the most reasonable explanation seemed to be magic. Some kind of curse. But how had such a thing come about?

Then she remembered that the other big bird she had been about to visit, the one with the iridescent feathers, had glanced at her, then twitched one feather-just before Roxanne fell to the ground. That twitch could have been an enchantment! That must be a bird with a magic talent.

But why? Roxanne had been innocently coming in for a visit. Why should another bird choose to mess her up like this? That was where her thinking faltered; it didn't seem to make sense.

She snoozed, and when she woke it was morning. She got up and went to the pool for a bath. The foolish wild women appeared again and tried to interfere, so she ate a few more and blew the rest away. She finished her bath, took another sip of the warm-tasting wine-water, and strode to the bank. She shook herself dry, then spread her wings and tried to take off.

Again, she could not. Her wings beat the air furiously, blowing up a great cloud of dust, but she didn't rise. It was as if she were tied to the ground. She could not fly.

A large snake slithered into view. A very large one.

Rather than being a morsel for eating, this was a potential enemy. She set herself, making ready to fight.

"Hold," said the snake in bird talk. "I have not come to quarrel, but to advise."

Roxanne was astonished. "How is it you speak my language?" she squawked.

"I am the Python of Parna.s.sus," he replied. "I speak all languages, for it is my duty to guard this mount from intrusion. The Maenads inform me that you are causing them difficulty."

"Oh, the wild women? They taste good when dunked in wine."

"I agree. However, they too guard the mount, and should not be preyed upon too savagely, lest the supply of them be exhausted. That would deprive me of my tastiest morsels. I must ask you to cease your depreciations on them."

"I will gladly do so, the moment I can fly away from this place. I never wanted to stay here anyway, but something funny happened to me on the way to visiting the roc at the summit."

"That is no roc. That is the Simurgh, the senior creature of Xanth and the mortal realm. She is the Keeper of the Seeds, and she sits in the Tree of Seeds and protects the mountain from intrusion by air. She allows no flying monsters here. You intruded, so she grounded you."

"Grounded me! But I was only coming to say h.e.l.lo! I didn't know she was so fussy about visitors."

"Now you know," the Python said.

"Well, tell her to lift the spell, and I'll fly away. I certainly don't want to a.s.sociate with anyone so unfriendly."

"The Simurgh is not unfriendly. She merely enforces the rule. She lacks the patience to educate those who somehow remain unfamiliar with her edict."

"You mean she won't let me fly again?" Roxanne asked, alarmed. "What a mean creature!"

"Not mean. Merely firm. Ignorance of the requirement is no excuse."

"But I can't endure forever on the ground!" Roxanne protested. "I'm a bird! I need to fly!"

"Then you will have to pet.i.tion the Simurgh for a release from grounding. Perhaps she will be lenient, considering your innocence."

So it was that Roxanne made her way laboriously by foot up to the top of Mount Parna.s.sus to pet.i.tion the Simurgh.

YOU MUST PERFORM COMMUNITY SERVICE, the Simurgh's powerful thought came. the Simurgh's powerful thought came.

WHEN YOU HAVE COMPLETED IT SATISFACTORILY, YOU WILL BE UNGROUNDED.

"What is this service?" Roxanne squawked.

YOU MUST GO TO THE NAMELESS CASTLE AND HATCH THE EGG THERE.

That seemed simple enough. "Where is the Nameless Castle?" she asked.

The Simurgh did not answer directly. Instead she twitched a feather.

Suddenly Roxanne was there.

The egg was beautiful, but slow in hatching. Roxanne lost count of the centuries, but was sure she was making progress toward her ungrounding.

She followed the rules of this service scrupulously: she could eat only those visitors who approached close to the egg. Sometimes they came in bunches, and sometimes singly. When there were several, she locked the extras in cages awaiting her appet.i.te. The s.p.a.ces between such visits could be brief or long.

It didn't matter. She snoozed between times. Somehow it seemed to work out; she was usually somewhat hungry, but never starving. It was not bad service, actually, but she would be glad when it was finally over.

Gwenny was amazed. "You have been here for centuries?"