Pet Peeve (2 page)

"Until I encountered a mean old goblin who had a problem. He hated everything, but loved his daughter. But she was cursed to die before she was forty. No man wanted to marry her, because of that curse, though she was comely. They teased her unmercifully about it, calling her Gone-Gone. As a result she was not very choosy. We met—and it was love almost at first sight.

"We married and were happy. The storks brought us two children, and they were fine and healthy goblets. The boy was as brutish as they come, and the girl was lovely and sweet. The boy got in with a bad crowd, cursed his family, and took off. We were so proud of him! The girl lied about her age, took up with a prominent junior chief, got him in trouble, and married him. No girl could have done it better. So we were alone again, just in time, for Go-Go was starting to feel the curse. I wished I could find some magic to save her, and indeed I heard there was a Black Wave Human Magician who could reverse curses, but we did not know where to find him. So Go-Go kissed me one last time and faded out.

“I was so horribly grief stricken that I could not stand to remain at home, where everything reminded me of her. So I left and wandered alone through Xanth, trying to escape my abiding sadness. But whenever I relax, I remember, and grief wells up again. I don't think there can ever be another woman like her. She was wonderful for twenty years, and I hope when I finally fade out myself to meet her somewhere on one of Princess Ida's moons and be happy again. I have to believe that, because otherwise my life is pointless. Surely you understand.”

He looked at the eyes. They did understand. They were tearing freely, their vision blurring and clouding.

Goody walked by them, across the bridge. They tried to glare cuttingly at him, but the glares washed out and drooped harmlessly to the planks. He had passed the first challenge.

But he wished he could have done it some other way. He hated sharing the memory of Go-Go. It was as if that diluted it, leaving less for him to cherish. He wanted never to forget her, only to be with her again.

The far end of the bridge led into the grand entrance gate, with no apparent barrier. The inner hall led in turn to a large parklike chamber with walks, trees, ponds, glades, and creatures. Goody looked around admiringly; if this was a challenge, it was a beautiful one.

He walked to the edge of the nearest pond. There was a lovely creature swimming in it, part human, part something else. “Hello,” he said politely.

The creature swirled about to face him, lifting her bare head and bosom. Her face was pretty, with big blue eyes and green and orange tresses that would have reached well toward the feet of a human girl. She also had arms and well-formed breasts. “Hello, goblin. Are you here to straighten us out?”

“Why, I don't know. Perhaps I am, if this is a Challenge. I am Goody Goblin.”

She clapped her hands. “Wonderful! My name is Mirage. I'm an exhibit. But I have forgotten my type.”

“It's an esthetic type, I'm sure.”

She blushed down toward her shoulders. “There was a confusion, and our identification plaques were lost. Now none of us know what we are. If you will kindly identify us, we will be ever so grateful.”

This was definitely a Challenge. “I will certainly make the attempt. You seem to be a crossbreed.”

“Yes, we all are. That's why it's so confusing. You must speak our types, and they will appear on the blank plaques.” She gestured, and he saw that there was a mounted wooden sign beside her pool. “But you must be sure to get them right, because we will be cruelly oppressed if misidentified. For example, if you called me a harpy, I would be required to act like one, and that would truly dismay me.”

So he could not afford to make a mistake. She looked like a mermaid, but not quite. It might be easy to make a mistake.

“May I get a better look at you, please? It's not that I wish to be obnoxious, but in the interest of accuracy I must consider carefully.”

“I understand.” She flexed her long tail and forged out onto the small beach surrounding the pool.

“You can go on land!” he exclaimed, surprised.

“So I can. But I do prefer the water.”

He studied her. Her human forepart was only about a seventh of her length. Her long tail was rounded, snakelike rather than fishlike. She was able to slither on land. “Some mer-folk can make legs. Can you?”

“Let me see.” Mirage concentrated prettily.

Suddenly she assumed the form of a nude woman lying on the sand. “Oh!” she cried, distressed. “I'm showing my panties!”

Goody tried to think of a polite way to tell her that this was not the case. It was impossible to show what one wasn't wearing. She might be an exhibit, but she was making more of an exhibition than she cared to. But she had already changed again, this time to a full serpent. She slithered into the water, becoming a fish.

At least that settled him on her nature. She had three or four forms, while a mer-person had only one or two. “You are a naga,” he said to the swirling water. “A mer-naga. Your parents were probably a naga and a mer-person.”

The plaque illuminated: MER-NAGA. He had gotten it.

Mirage's head and bosom reappeared in the water. “Oh thank you, Goody! Now I feel competent again. I'm so thrilled I think I'll kiss you.” She swam purposefully toward him.

“That really isn't neces—”

But she was already slithering out of the water and lifting her forepart to plant a soft-fronted kiss on him. Little hearts flung out and orbited his head as he lost his balance and sat on the sand. All he could think of in the blissful confusion of the moment was that he had been lucky she had kissed him in her naga form rather than her full bare human form. He would have entirely freaked out despite the absence of panties.

He bid farewell to Mirage and walked on to the next exhibit. This was a section of forest where a long-legged wolf with dainty feet ranged. The wolf spied him and approached. It had long-flowing ears and a small pearl horn on its forehead. “Hello,” Goody said. “I am—”

The wolf changed form, becoming a human woman with long blond hair and wings, and pale blue eyes with matching blue hoofs. “I overheard. I am Maggie. I hope you can classify me. I don't know whether to howl or neigh.”

Goody had been exposed to quite a number of human females recently, but had not become inured to the bare exhibit. “Please let me study your other form.”

“Of course.” She changed back, her second word sounding more like a growl.

There had evidently been something of an event at a love spring. He saw strong evidence of wolf, unicorn, bird, and human. But he wasn't sure how four creatures could have done it; two was more likely. Maybe an alicorn, which was a winged unicorn, and a werewolf. That would account for the wings and hoofs, though they did not appear in the same form, and the wolf and human aspects. “You must be a wericorn,” he said.

The woman reappeared. “Is there such a thing?” she asked doubtfully.

“There is now,” he said, pointing to the plaque, which now said WERICORN.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “I'm so pleased, I think I'll—”

“There is really no ne—”

Too late. She lifted him up to human height and kissed him. This time the orbiting hearts were larger, with blond tresses and hooves. He really wished he could do something about his susceptibility to female charms, but it seemed to be inherent. Ever since Go-Go.

The hearts cleared as she set him down, facing the next exhibit. This was a big bird with the head of a dog. “Woof!” it said.

Goody was getting better at this. “You're a bird dog.”

The plaque lighted with the designation.

The bird dog looked pleased. It approached him.

“There is no need to—”

Again he was cut off by the kiss. The creature hovered before him and licked his face with a single juicy slurp.

The next exhibit was another bird/animal combination, with the head and wings of an owl and the hindpart of a cow. “Hoo?” it inquired.

“I am Goody Goblin. It seems I am here to define your type.”

“Whooii mooake HOO,” it said.

Goody realized that it was talking to him, so it behooved him to fathom its message. When he allowed for the whoo and moo of its owl and cow aspects, it seemed to be saying “I make—” But he stalled on the last word.

“You make something,” he said.

The creature flew to a milk pail and positioned its udder. Fluid squirted out. Then it kicked the bucket toward him.

Goody caught it before it spilled and held it up. “But this isn't milk,” he said. “This is pure water.”

“HOO,” the creature agreed.

Then at last a bulb flashed over his head. “An H and two O's. H2O. That's water! You make water.”

“HOO,” it agreed.

“But I need to classify you. You're obviously an owl/cow cross-breed. What would that be called? An owlco? I don't think so.” Then another bulb flared. “A cowl!”

“Hoot moon!” it exclaimed, pleased as the plaque accepted the term. He had gotten another.

There was one more creature to classify. This exhibit was a large greenish melon growing in a desultory patch. As Goody approached, it metamorphosed into a sad-eyed dog.

Goody was riding a wave of success. “You're a meloncollie,” he said, and it was so. He had conquered the last challenge of nomenclature.

There was an open door before him. He turned and waved. “Farewell, lovely creatures,” he called. There was a chorus of responses, some of which sounded like kisses.

He turned back to the door and entered another huge chamber. This one was boxlike, square with solid wooden panels around the sides and across the ceiling. This one, like the other, had five sections, only these were all lined up across the center with separate paths leading to each. Evidently he had to choose a path, and surely four of them would be wrong.

He stood and looked at the section farthest to the left. This had a disreputable man standing beside the path. In fact he looked like nothing so much as a giant insect. “Hello,” Goody said politely. “I am Goody Goblin, and I would like to pass through your territory. Is this a problem for you?”

“Yes, I have a problem with that,” the man buzzed. “I am Esso Bee, and I will stop you from passing this way.”

That did not seem promising. “But I have done you no injury. Why should you seek to balk me?”

“Because I like to make problems bigger than they are.”

Goody decided to risk it. He walked toward Esso.

The man pointed to a little molehill by the path. Suddenly it swelled into a mountain, blocking the way.

“That's a remarkable talent,” Goody said.

“It's no bigger than my dislike for you, goblin.”

Magnifying a harmless person into a significant enemy. That was consistent with the man's talent.

Goody tried to walk around the mountain, but Esso pointed to another molehill, and it swelled into another mountain. It was apparent that he would not get through this way.

Goody shrugged. “You are doing an excellent job of balking me,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, runt.”

So it seemed. Goody backed off and addressed the second section of the box. This path was clear, with no more than a single tree growing beside it. That did not look difficult.

He started walking toward the tree. “You'll be soo-rreee!” Esso called in singsong from the other section. He was clearly mean spirited.

Goody walked faster, then faster yet. Suddenly he realized that this was not entirely of his own volition. Something was urging him forward. He did not trust that.

He halted with an effort, his feet actually sliding to a stop. His body seemed to want to fall toward the tree. How could that be?

He dragged himself back along the path. It got easier as he went, until he hardly felt any pull. Now he saw a small sign: GRAVI-TREE.

The more he considered that, the less he liked it. The tree seemed to borrow from the Demon Earth's magic of attraction, hauling him in with greater power as he approached it. What would happen if he got too close?

“You'll get squished to pulp, you little snot,” Esso called nastily.

Just so. This path, too, was impassible.

The next section seemed to be a vegetable garden with many fine, tall stalks. That should be harmless. He hoped.

He walked down the path. Immediately several stalks uprooted themselves and moved toward him. They looked menacing. Some glistened with fluid that could be poisonous; others were coated with ugly powder. These were not innocent, peaceful plants.

He tried to hurry, to get by them before they could close in on him. But they hurried too, forming a large but shrinking circle around him. Now he smelled something like acid. There was also some of the black powder wafting toward him. He caught just a whiff of it and sneezed violently. If a whiff did that, what would a full breath of it do?

Now he realized what the plants were doing. They were stalking him. That might have seemed funny, but for their evident seriousness.

Discretion was the better part of valor. Goody ran back along the path. A line of stalks moved to cut him off, but he leaped, hurdling them. A faint mist hovered above them that stung his eyes and made his breath tighten, but then he was past, and able to clear his lungs and eyes. But it was clear, if fuzzy from his tearing eyes: he could not pass this way either.

He oriented on the fourth path. This one passed a dark cave. What was in there?

He would surely find out. He walked along the path.

As he approached the cave, a bear emerged. It set itself in the path, blocking it.

“Hello,” Goody said politely. “I am—”

“I am a bi-polar bear,” the bear growled, cutting him off. “Sometimes I am high, but now I am low. I feel like destroying something. If you get near me, I will take it out on you.”

Goody considered that, and decided not to argue the case. “I hope your mood improves soon,” he said, and retreated. The bear went back into its cave.

The last section contained another tree, but this one was unusual. Its fruit seemed to consist of items of, well, defecation. Indeed, the sign identified it as a toilet-tree.

There were a number of creatures using the items. An elven girl was powdering her face, and a troll was sitting on a pot, straining. Even insects were relieving themselves on miniature facilities.