Pet Peeve (9 page)

“So hold his hand, heathen vixen! Haw haw haw.”

A wisp of steam curled above Hannah's head.

“We shall have to silence that interference,” Vertex said. She glanced at the parody, and it stiffened into something like a statue.

“Wait, we can't hurt the peeve,” Goody said.

“It is merely in a state of suspended awareness,” Vortex said. “Vertex will release it when my business with you is done.”

Oh. “Thank you.” He lifted the inert bird from his shoulder and set it carefully on a low branch of a nondescript tree, where it remained without protest. “It should be safe here, out of danger,” he said.

The dragon approached. “Now make yourself comfortable, for you may lose consciousness of your surroundings.”

Goody found a tree trunk to lean against and settled down. “Ready, I suppose, I think. This is comfortable and convenient, and I am relaxed and at ease.”

“You're repeating yourself,” Hannah said.

“I am? Am I?”

The barbarian stared at the tree. “No wonder! That's a tautolotree. It makes you repeat needlessly, or say what's already obvious.”

“Tautology,” Goody agreed. “Repetition.”

“Stop it!”

“It doesn't matter, for this purpose,” Vortex said. “Just sit there and let your mind go blank.”

“I am blank,” Goody agreed. “My mind is either empty or not empty.” He let his gaze go unfocused, twice.

Nothing changed. But he had seen that phenomenon in No Man's Land, so knew better than to assume that nothing was happening. He was merely resting here, thinking.

Then the scene faded, to be replaced by the interior of what he recognized as a goblin mound. Huge goblins were running here and there, doing mysterious things. No, they were normal goblin size; he was small. He was a goblet, a baby goblin.

His nurse was busy at the moment, changing his diaper, so he cast about for mischief. He saw a little fire ant in a niche, so he caught it on a piece of cloth and dropped it on the nurse's toe.

“Eee-yow!” she screeched, almost smacking her head on the ceiling as she leaped. The fire ant had given her a hotfoot! Gory giggled so hard he almost fell off the table.

Of course he got away with it. Even if the nurse suspected, she couldn't punish him, because he was the chief's son. He could cuss her out in language that made her faint, when he got old enough to learn how to talk.

So he was a normal goblin male originally.

And the son of a chief.

Locate the time he changed.

He was a chief's son? So he was; now he remembered. He had buried that memory because he was ashamed.

The scene shifted. Now he was older but still a goblet, able to walk and talk but not to do anything manly, like punching out a visitor. There was tension in the air; the adults were afraid. That made Gory afraid too.

An invisible hand took his. An adult was lending him strength, somehow. The fear receded, and he was able to study the situation as if separated from his small body.

The mound was being raided! The goblin guards were being killed, and the women were being hauled into closed chambers where they screamed piercingly. Gory found it hilarious, the way they sounded. The goblets were being rounded up separately.

“They're after loot, rapine, and hostages,” Gory's nurse said.

“We've got to hide you, because you're worth more than all the others combined.”

Of course. He was the chief's son.

“There's no escape; the mound is surrounded. Only one ploy remains. We'll have to fix it so they won't recognize you.”

Not recognize the chief's son? Impossible! He was the meanest goblet in the mound, and everyone was proud of him.

She fetched a packet from a high shelf and emptied its powder into a cup of water. “Quick, drink this, Gory,” she said.

“Why, you dopey cow?” he demanded rebelliously. He didn't like anyone telling him what to do, even for his own safety.

She didn't argue with him. She pinched his nose, tilted his head back, and when he opened his mouth to breathe, poured in the fluid. He choked, but swallowed most of it.

Whet she released him, he opened his mouth to cuss her out properly, but the words wouldn't come. “If you please,” he said politely, “what was in that water?”

“Powdered reverse wood. That makes you behave the opposite of your nature. You are now the meekest goblin in the mound. Remove your clothes.”

Ordinarily he would have told her where she could go with such a directive. Not that he objected to the act; he liked to run through the girls' dorm naked, freaking them out. Once he was grown, that should be twice as much fun. But now he was unaccustomedly modest. “Please, I would rather not, lest it be unseemly.”

“Then conceal yourself and change into these,” she said, handing him a pile of clothing.

He obliged, for it would not have been nice to disobey the nurse, who meant only the best for him. The clothing was horrible: panties, slippers, and a dress. But he donned it meekly enough.

Then the nurse redid his hair, putting a ribbon into it. “You are no longer Gory Goblin, chief's son,” she said. “You are Goody Gobliness, a common girl. Remember that; your safety depends on it.”

Then foreign goblin men burst into the chamber. “Haa!” they cried. “A wench and a brat!”

They hauled the nurse into another room, where she duly screamed. Goody they hustled to a chamber with other children, then ignored them all.

After that, the raiders settled in. The older goblinesses became their servants and the younger ones their screaming partners. Goody did not know what was going on, but was glad to avoid it. He stayed with the girls, and never let on to anyone that he was not the same as them. In due course the boys were taken away as hostages, leaving only the girls.

A few days later a counterattack wiped out the raiders. The chief returned. Now at last it was safe for Goody to reveal his identity. At first the chief laughed uproariously to learn how his son had outwitted the enemy. But when it became apparent that the boy's nature had changed, he was disgusted.

Reverse wood! No wonder he's so nice!

But it's not the talent.

It seems to be connected, though. Do a slow talent search.

Goody moved forward through his life, growing up despised, being tacitly exiled, and finally being upset because of the nasty Finger. His original self would have loved the Finger!

Then he opened his eyes back in the present. Hannah was holding his hand. She was the one who had given him strength and courage during the flashback.

“Are you back?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.” He glanced at their linked hands. “But I thought you didn't want to—”

She let go. “I didn't want to give the bird the satisfaction. But it was clear you needed support, and that was the only way to give it. So, as a friend would—”

“A friend,” he said, liking it. “It really helped. Did you see what I saw?”

“Yes, when I was in contact with you. You had a rough time as a child.”

“I hate the memory.”

“Of what happened to you?”

“Of what I was originally. Those women—they were being—and I laughed, though at that age I didn't know the details, just that they were suffering.”

“You are not what you were,” she agreed. “You are now as nice as you were mean.”

“And I don't want to change back.”

“But your talent—they didn't find that.”

“Yes, we did,” Vortex said. “We just had to analyze the subtle indications near the present. It seems to be related to your infiltration by the reverse wood. At first it reversed your personality. Now it is extending to your body.”

“My gender!” Goody exclaimed, alarmed. “I don't want to turn into a girl again.”

“Not that. This affects your interaction with your environment. We don't properly understand it yet, perhaps because it is as yet weak, but with time and practice it will surely strengthen. It helps protect you.”

“Without Hannah's protection, the parody would have gotten me killed several times over. I'm not aware of any power of my own.”

“Your talent has not yet been evoked. But perhaps we can do that now. We have reviewed its parameters, and—”

“Its whats?”

“Values, scale, compass, measure, connection, degree, limits—”

“Boundaries?” Hannah asked.

“Whatever,” Vortex agreed without ire. Actually his words had been accompanied by the thought concept, so Goody had garnered a working comprehension of it. “It has variable application, depending on circumstances. It's fairly sophisticated, but as yet weak. Perhaps we can demonstrate. Strike at him with your weapon.”

She shook her head. “If I do that I'll cut him in half.”

“Feint, then, or use a harmless weapon.”

“I won't faint!”

Goody realized that she had picked up the sound without all of the meaning, being illiterate. “Make a pretend strike.”

She fetched a pillow from a nearby pillow bush. “I'll bash you with this. I'll score, but it can't hurt you.”

Goody stood before the tree. Hannah swung the pillow at him. It shied off without quite touching him.

“That's odd.” She wound it back and tried again. The second time it seemed to bounce back a bit, without quite touching him.

“Something wrong with this pillow,” she said. She fetched a weed stalk instead, and poked it at him. It seemed to push back in her hand.

“Weird.” She fetched a light stick and rapped at his shoulder. The stick came back at her with similar light force.

“It is repelling the weapons,” Vortex explained. “Bouncing them back in the direction they come from. It seems to be related to the reverse wood, reversing the thrust.”

“A bounce!” Goody said. “It really is there.”

“Let me make one more test,” Hannah said. “I will try just to nick you lightly.” She drew her sword.

Goody was distinctly nervous about this. “I'm not sure this is wise.”

She brought the sword down on his shoulder. It bounced back, just missing her own shoulder. “I felt it!” she said. “A force reflected it. You are protected!”

“I suppose so,” Goody agreed, amazed.

“It is getting stronger with practice,” Vortex said. “Now that it has been evoked.”

“So I really do have a protective talent,” Goody said in wonder.

“You really do,” Vortex agreed.

He went to fetch the parody from the branch of the tautolotree. “About time, you numskull,” the bird complained. “It's been a while, bonehead.”

The others laughed. “What so funny?” the peeve demanded. “Where's the humor?” But no one would explain.

They set out for Castle Roogna, on the way to Robot World. They cut across to intercept an enchanted path. By the time they found it, it was getting late, so they stopped at a campsite that was convenient.

A large spotted cat was there. “Ah, I have been waiting for someone to play cards with,” it said.

“A talking tabby,” the parody said. “Never trust a cat.”

“Cards?” Goody asked. He had not encountered a talking cat before, but perhaps it was no more remarkable than a talking bird.

“A deck of fifty-two,” the cat said as a splay of cards appeared. “A good game is poker.”

“If you poke me, I'll cut off your hide!” Hannah snapped.

“Very funny,” the cat said, unamused. “So will you play?”

“I thought poke-her was a game fauns played, dancing around a nymph and touching her in awkward places,” Goody said.

“Do you want to play?” the cat asked again, still supremely unamused. It riffed the cards.

“Let me see that deck,” Hannah said, snatching it from his paw. She riffed through the cards herself. “I thought so: five aces! You're a—”

“Cheetah,” the cat agreed. “What did you expect?”

Hannah returned the cards. “Let's play. What are the stakes?”

“Foraging for supper,” the cat said, its eye resting on the peeve.

“Don't you touch me, you pukey puss!”

“He's a cheater, and you still want to play?” Goody asked, surprised.

“Barbarians are fools about gambling.”

Goody shrugged. “But the parody is not on the menu.”

The feline sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I'll play too,” the peeve said.

It turned out to be an interesting game. Each player started out with a stack of colored chips, and the cards were dealt in batches of five. Goody never did get quite clear about the rules, and did not do well. Neither did Hannah. The cheetah won, of course, with the parody second.

Goody and Hannah went out to forage for supper. This was not hard at all, as there were many convenient fruit trees and plants, including catnip and beefsteak tomatoes for the cheetah. The point of the card game had been diversion, and it had been fine for that.

The peeve elected to spend the night with Hannah, who was alert to things around her even when asleep, and very fast with her sword. Goody appreciated that; the big cat was not to be trusted.

Next day they walked the rest of the way to Castle Roogna. As they approached its moat, three nine-year-old girls appeared, wearing little golden crowns.

“Hello, Goblin,” the first said. “I'm Princess Melody.” She had greenish hair and blue eyes.

“Hello, Barbarian,” the second said. “I'm Princess Harmony.” She had brown hair and eyes.

“Hi, Parody,” the third said. “I'm Princess Rhythm.” She had red hair and green eyes.

“What a cluster of creeps!”

The three laughed. “What are you doing here, Peeve?” Melody asked.

“You're supposed to be with the Good Magician,” Harmony added.

“Driving his household to 'straction,” Rhythm concluded.

“I'm Goody Goblin. It's my job to find a good home for the parody. I don't suppose any of you would be interested?”

“We'd love to have the peeve,” Melody said.

“It would really make things interesting,” Harmony agreed.

“But Mother wouldn't allow it,” Rhythm concluded.

“And I'm Hannah Barbarian,” Hannah said. “So maybe you will direct us to Princess Ida?”

“Sure,” Melody said.

“She's expecting you,” Harmony agreed.

“Just follow the linear,” Rhythm concluded.

“Ha ha ha,” the parody laughed.

Goody was about to ask what a linear was, but then he saw it: a line of ears, leading across the moat and into the castle. Nine-year-old humor. “Thank you.”

They followed the line. The ears faded out as they were passed. As Hannah and Goody walked on the drawbridge, a huge green head rose from the water.

“It's okay, Sesame,” Melody called.

“They've been cleared,” Harmony added.

“Sesame's our moat monster,” Rhythm explained. “She alternates with her boyfriend.”

“Moat monsters have boyfriends?” Goody asked, bemused.

“Oh, sure,” Hannah said. “They're people too.”

The ears led down a long hall and to a stairway, where they became a line of eyes looking up from the steps. “A stare way,” Hannah said, disgusted. “I'm not walking up that in my skirt.”

“Ho ho ho!”

“The princesses are mischievous,” Goody said, appreciating her problem. Sneak peeks at panties were supposed to be prevented at all times, by order of the Adult Conspiracy, lest panties lose their effect and be useless. Sometimes that rule was violated, but that did not mean that violation was to be encouraged. “Do you have any way to nullify them?”

A bulb flashed over her head. “I do, now that you thought of it.” She drew her sword.

“I don't think this the place for mayhem,” Goody said, alarmed.

“Watch.” She angled the sword. It flashed. She tilted it so that the flash reflected down onto the stairs. The eyes blinked and teared, blinded. Then, keeping the glare a few steps ahead of her, she walked up the stairs.

“That's impressive.”

“I'm barbarian. That means ignorant, not stupid.”

“You're just lucky it wasn't a come-hither stair,” the parody said nastily. “That would have lured you up before you could get your sword out. Your panties would have panted.”

“You can't distract me, buzzard brain,” Hannah said, not relinquishing her focus. That of course had been the bird's intention: spoiling her concentration, so the reflection wavered, stranding her as the eyes recovered beneath her.

At the next floor the eyes gave way to mouths. Three princesses, three types of line. They were not threatening, merely painted red lips that kissed the feet that touched them. They led to a room whose door-plate said PRINCESS IDA.

Goody lifted his knuckle to knock.

“Open up, you misbegotten broad!”

Oops! Goody cast about for some fast way to explain and apologize.

The door opened. A woman Hannah's age stood there in her gown and crown. A small ball orbited her head. “You have the pet peeve!” she exclaimed.

She knew! “Yes. I'm supposed to find a good home for it. I'm Goody Goblin, and this is Hannah Barbarian. We need to visit Robot World.”

“Of course. Come in.”

They entered her chamber, and were soon comfortably seated, except for the bird. “What a constricted dump! Where did you get those rags you're wearing? And that crown must be made of brass.”

Ida nodded. “The bird is one of a kind. You surely wish to complete your mission swiftly.”

“Yes, provided there are some good fights along the way,” Hannah said.

“There surely will be, considering the bird.”

“Aw, what's it to you, bumbling biddy?”

Ida ignored the bird's interjections. “Are you familiar with the process of traveling to the moons?”

“No,” Goody said, embarrassed. “It is complicated?”

“Not at all. But you need to understand that you can't go there physically. Only your soul can go, while your body remains here.”

“Desert our bodies?” Hannah asked, alarmed. “What about my weapons?”

Ida smiled. “Your souls will form bodies like your present ones, complete with clothing and accouterments. Your sword will be with you.” She went on to explain the full process. Neither Goody nor Hannah was easy with it, but they seemed to have little choice. “I will lay a track for Robot World,” the princess concluded. “You will travel rapidly there, and when you are done, you have but to release your hold on that scene and you will revert to this office.”

It all seemed at once simple and frighteningly complicated. Goody and Hannah lay on adjacent couches, holding hands so that they would travel together, and the parody perched on Goody's arm. Ida brought out something for each one of them to sniff, and they were on their way.

Goody rose out of his body in the form of a diffuse cloud. One wisp of him extended to link to the larger cloud rising from Hannah's body, and another to the little cloud that was the parody. In one moment, more or less, they formed into their approximate normal shapes, and sailed upward, following a curving track of light. They did not need to make any effort; somehow the track drew them along.

Below them their bodies looked huge and clumsy, and were growing larger. Above them the track curved toward the giant Princess Ida, and to the tiny moon orbiting her head. This was Ptero, they had learned, where all people and creatures and things that might ever exist resided. It seemed impossible for such a great number to fit on such a tiny moon.

But as they zoomed toward it, it expanded, becoming a world with clouds and continents, rotating as it traveled its orbit. Then they were falling toward it, and it was huge, as big as all Xanth and Mundania combined. Now it seemed possible for many folk to be here.

They came to the surface, but the bright track continued. They zoomed across to another Castle Roogna, and into it, passing folk who seemed to be standing still, and up its stairs. Then on to Princess Ida's chamber, and in, and there she was—with a pyramidal moon orbiting her head. They went to that expanding moon, each of whose four flat triangular faces was a different color, and on to another Princess Ida. After that it became a blur, as they zoomed from moon to moon and Ida to Ida. This was even weirder than Goody would have thought of expecting.

Then abruptly they halted. They stood on a world of solid metal, with metal things zooming every which way. This had to be Robot World, seemingly as big as any of the others, though it orbited the head of an Ida who was infinitely smaller than the original Ida. Goody found the concept daunting to assimilate, so let it slip away.

“So are you okay, goblin?” Hannah asked.

“I seem to be. If I understand the situation correctly, we are solidified bits of our souls, possessing all the attributes of our physical selves, only smaller.”

“Something like that,” she agreed dazedly. “Is the bird intact?”

“Who the bleep wants to know, frump face?”

“Yes,” Goody answered with four-tenths of a smile.

Three figures approached them. One looked like a human woman encased fully in armor so that no flesh showed. The second resembled a metallic goblin. The third seemed to be an iron bird.

The armor addressed Hannah. “Wel-come to Ro-bot World,” it said. “What is your busi-ness here?”

“What's it to you, metal mouth?”

“We are the official welcoming cohort,” the robot replied, its pronunciation become more proficient. It did not seem to realize that Hannah herself hadn't answered. “Crafted to resemble the members of your party to facilitate communication. We recognize you as visitors from another planet who will require guidance around our world.”

“They think I'm the leader of this group,” Hannah murmured.

“Hee hee hee!”

The metal bird spoke. “It seems we are addressing the wrong entity,” it said. It pointed its beak at the parody. “What is your wish aboard our world?”

“Go ram your steel foot up your copper bottom!”

There was a pause for no more than half an instant. The bird machine seemed to be heating. “That is anatomically awkward. Is it a serious request?”

The bird opened its beak, but this time Goody preempted it. “I am the leader of this mission,” he said rapidly. “We have come from Xanth to fetch a female construction robot.”

“We appreciate the clarification,” the goblin robot said. “What do you proffer in exchange?”

“Oopsy,” Hannah murmured.

But Goody had negotiated trades before. “What are your needs?”

“Information, of course.”

“We have a certain amount of that. What type of information do you prefer?”

“News of other worlds, for our main database.”

“Would three individual case histories do?”

“Yes.”

That caught Goody by surprise. He had been stalling for time while he cast about for something better to offer. “Then you shall have them, in exchange for one construction robot.”

“Agreed. But there may be a problem.”

Now came the kicker. “What problem?”

“We are unable to ship a fully equipped and functioning mechanism to a downward world, because we lack substance there. We can provide only the program.”

Goody realized that this made sense. A solid machine might seem large here, but would be a tiny speck on Xanth. There needed to be a mechanism to expand it. “You mean instructions to build it? We wouldn't know how to use them.”

“If you provide a simple machine, and raw material, the program will construct the robot you specify.”

“How simple a machine?” Hannah asked.

“A small lever. A wheel with axle. A heat source. An input/output module. A ceramic lens. Copper powder. A supply of iron.”

They consulted. “Probably we could get those things,” Goody said uncertainly.

“Fool!”

Goody paused. “What's foolish about making the deal?”

“How can soulless machines be fashioned from soul stuff, as everything here is? They're fooling you.”

“We lack souls, true,” the goblin machine said. “But not everything here is soul stuff. Only the aspects of souled creatures like yourselves. We have programs instead. They guide us as your souls do you.”

“No souls,” Hannah said. “That means no consciences.”

Nevertheless it seemed like the best deal. “Agreed.”

“Please come to the recording studio.” The robots led the way to an open enclosure containing several chairs. “Please secure yourselves.”

There were flexible metal straps that fit over their laps, or over the feet of the birds. They followed the examples of the robots, and fastened themselves in.

Then the enclosure took off. Suddenly they were sailing through the air, rising above the surface. The variegated surfaces of Robot World spread beneath them like an ugly tapestry. They zoomed to what might have been a huge building or a small city; it was hard to tell where one thing left off and another began, on this interconnected planet. They flew in a window or door and landed in the center of a circular amphitheater.

“Proceed with your presentations,” the goblin robot said.