Question Quest Page 6

  I exchanged most of a glance with MareAnn. Then we turned as one and went back into the house. It would remain fixed in the day; we had been foolish to run out unprepared. I had resolved always to tell the truth, but I was discovering that there were occasions where the truth was nobody else's business. It was a realization I would remember later in life when folk would pester me for information.

  Inside, we dressed. I turned my back so as not to see her don her panties. MareAnn brought out a comb and sorted out her hair, and then mine. Actually, I thought she looked intriguing in her wild style, but this was good too, and I liked the way she fussed over me. That was another truth best left unsaid, since it behooved me not to prejudice her valuable innocence.

  "Do you know anything about the South Village?" she asked me.

  As it happened, I did. "That's where King Ebnez lives."

  "The King?"

  "He assumed the throne in the year 909. He has been King for almost forty years. His talent is adapting magic things. He adapted the Deathstone to the Shield-stone, to stop the Waves, so we don't get invaded anymore."

  "I knew that! I mean, this is the capital city?"

  "There are no cities in Xanth. This is the capital village."

  "What are we doing here?"

  "It's where the werehouse brought us. Well south of the Gap."

  "South of the what?"

  "The—well, I don't exactly remember." This was my first experience with the action of the Forget Spell, because I had now been far and long enough away from the Gap to lose my immunity. "Anyway, it's in southerb Xanth, and I fear it will be a long, hard trek to return to the north. Can your unicorns find you here?"

  "Not the same ones. But maybe it doesn't matter. We wanted to travel, to get away from our situations. Well, we traveled farther and faster than we expected. Let's make something of it."

  "Something of it?" I asked blankly.

  "Let's go visit the King. Maybe he will have something for us to do."

  "But I don't know how to do anything!"

  "Yes, you do. You're very good at finding useful things."

  "But that's hardly a profession!"

  "And I will keep house for you and help keep you warm at night."

  Suddenly I found myself persuaded.

  So we went to visit King Ebnez. As it happened, he was at home and not busy, so he welcomed the company. He was a portly man in his sixties, with impressive sideburns under his crown. He treated us to a very nice breakfast of greenberries from the greenberry fields and marshmallows fresh from the mallow marshes.

  "And what is your business here?" he inquired after we had pretty well stuffed ourselves.

  "Humfrey would like employment," MareAnn said immediately.

  "Oh? And what is your talent?"

  "Curiosity," she said.

  The King turned a bland eye on her. "And what is yours, pretty miss?"

  "Summoning equines," I said.

  Ebnez nodded. "So you would be able to travel readily."

  "Yes," MareAnn agreed. "And I will travel with him, to keep his socks dry." I realized that she did not want to remain in a strange village alone for fear that some man might get the notion she was marriageable.

  "To be sure," the King agreed. His gentle gaze returned to me. "As it happens, I have need of a surveyor."

  "You mean, to find out things about people?" I asked, hardly believing my luck.

  "Yes. That is why I asked the werehouse to bring in good prospects. Your talent of curiosity is a good recommendation, and your wife's talent complements it nicely."

  "Oh, she's not my wife!" I said, surprised.

  "Not yet," MareAnn said quickly. She was not about to let a good job slip away on a technicality or to let strangers think, she was unattached. I might have objected, but found I had nothing to which to object. The thought of spending more time with her appealed, even if it did seem likely to compromise her innocence.

  In this manner I became the Royal Surveyor. It was to be a more significant position than I realized at first.

  It was an excellent job. MareAnn summoned winged horses for us to ride, and that was a marvelous experience in itself. We flew up high above the South Village, and the villagers gaped, thinking I must be a Magician to compel the service of a woman who had such power. MareAnn, for her own reason, did not discourage this impression; she wanted folk to believe that I had powerful magic. I didn't like this seeming misrepresentation, for honesty still seemed to me to be the best policy, but she pointed out that I was not being dishonest, I was merely being polite by failing to disabuse others of their errors. So we compromised: if anyone asked, I replied that I was no Magician. If anyone didn't ask, I didn't volunteer the information. It was much the same with respect to our mutual status as nonmembers of the Adult Conspiracy.

  I spent some private time pondering the shades-of-gray ethics involved, and concluded that it was not properly my business what others thought. If there was a foible, such as in the manner a village girl made herself seem beautiful by applying charcoal to her eyebrows and redberry juice to her lips, it was not my place to expose it unless I was specifically asked. It was best to leave folk with their illusions, of whatever nature, especially if I wanted to get along with them. This developing attitude of mine stood me in excellent stead in the course of my work, because I needed the cooperation of all whom I encountered.

  My job was to survey all the human folk of Xanth and to compile a list of their magic talents. The King was especially interested in the more powerful talents; in fact he hoped to turn up some Magician-caliber talents in young folk who might be potential kings, since only a Magician could be king. At present none was known, and Ebnez was getting old. He was sixty-six and not in perfect health. I offered him some of the healing elixir I had, but he declined; he did not trust drugs. I disagreed, believing that anything beneficial should be used, but it was not my place to argue with a King. So I concentrated on doing my job, and kept my opinion to myself. That, too, was an excellent discipline.

  I started with the southern tip of Xanth and worked my way north. There were not a great many people in the peninsula, but they were scattered across it and were hidden in glades and crannies, so it was slow work. I knew that if I missed even one, that one might turn out to be the Magician Ebnez was looking for, and so I would have failed the major purpose of my survey. So I didn't expect it to be easy, but it turned out to be more difficult in several ways than I had anticipated. Let me describe the first example of many.

  We flew down past the dread region of madness, and I shivered to think that I would have to survey that too, in due course. We passed Lake Ogre-Chobee, as wide and shallow as an ogre's mind, and Mount Rushmost where the winged monsters gathered. Then on past Mount Parnassus where the fabulous Tree of Seeds grew. There I had my second qualm: would I have to interview the Maenads, the wild women who roved its slopes? I feared I would, for it was not safe to assume that they had no magic other than blood lust. Then we were over the Ever-Glades, which stretched on forever, as it was their intent to lose anyone who ventured into them. It was wise never to underestimate the perversity of the inanimate. Finally we came to the coast, and flew beyond it to Centaur Isle.

  We landed in the central square of the main centaur city. An elder of the centaurs trotted out to meet us. He was a powerful figure of man and horse. "Part-breeds are not welcome here," he said gruffly.

  "But I'm doing a survey," I said.

  "We don't care what you're doing. Two of you are human and two of you are winged horses. You are all partbreeds, and we prefer to keep our isle pure. Please depart at your earliest convenience.”

  I was baffled by this attitude. The centaurs I had encountered on the mainland were reasonably sociable creatures if treated with respect. "I'm doing it for the King of Xanth," I said. "He wants to know the magic talent of every person in the peninsula."

  "Centaurs have no magic," the centaur said coldly. I saw that I had inadvertently added insult to
ignorance.

  Fortunately MareAnn had quicker wits than I. "We know that, sir. But we thought that there may be among you some inferior humans, and if we can survey them quickly, we can soon begone, and the King will be satisfied and no one will bother you again."

  The elder turned an appraising eye on her. MareAnn smiled at him. I mentioned illusion: when she smiled, she seemed to become twice as pretty as she was. It is an effect I have since noticed in others, too: incidental magic, independent of their particular talents. Seated on the winged horse as she was, in that moment she rather resembled a fetching lady centaur. Had I been the object of that smile, I would have melted halfway into the ground. The elder was too haughty to go to that extreme, but he couldn't help softening somewhat at the edges. After all, he was part equine, and she had power over equines, making them want to do her will. "There are a few servants among us," he conceded. "Very well: I shall assign Chrissy to guide you during your brief stay here."

  Chrissy Centaur trotted up at the elder's signal. She was a lovely creature of about our own age, with hair that trailed back from her head and merged seamlessly with her mane. Her full bare breasts were impressive in the human manner, and her brown hide was nice in the equine manner. I could see that the winged horses were admiring her flanks in much the same manner I was admiring her forepart. Centaurs wore no unfunctional clothing, and they considered modesty unfunctional. "Hello," she said shyly.

  "Hello," MareAnn and I said together.

  "Show them our humans," the elder said, and trotted off.

  "Oh, how nice to have someone visit our humans!" Chrissy said. "I'm sure they get lonely sometimes here."

  Thus my survey commenced. The few men and women on the isle were indeed servants, and their talents were minimal: what are called the spot-on-a-wall variety. Some magic is truly potent, such as the ability to shatter a big rock into a thousand parts. Some is next to nothing, such as making a faint discoloration appear on a wall. Most human beings have magic, but few have strong magic, and the folk here were evidently the ones who had nothing better to do than serve centaurs. They cleaned out stalls and swept off roofs and did the other things that were beneath the dignity of centaurs, and seemed as satisfied as might be expected.

  But in the way of servants, they knew secret things, and one thing they said gave me a peculiar doubt. "You know, the centaurs say they have no magic," a scullery maid confided when Chrissy Centaur was off rounding up another human. “But I think they do; they just won't admit it. They think that the possession of a magic talent is obscene."

  That was one of the ironies of the centaur persuasion. Centaurs performed natural functions of all types freely in public, having no sense of modesty about them. But magic was something they girt about with social restrictions. They tolerated it in what they considered to be inferior creatures, and did use magic objects, but that was the limit. Any person who wanted to remain on an amicable footing with centaurs learned, as I did, to honor this foible scrupulously.

  If the centaurs had magic talents, then I should be listing those too! But if they refused to admit it, how could I? Was my survey impossible to complete properly?

  This ushered in another notion. I had been thinking only of full human beings—but what of the crossbreeds? Centaurs weren't the only ones. What about the harpies and merfolk and fauns? In fact, what about the elves and ogres and goblins? They were all human in their distant fashions, and might have magic talents.

  Just how big was this survey likely to become?

  Well, in a few days we flew back to the South Village and I made my first report to King Ebnez. "So do you want to, to try to question all the part humans too?" I inquired.

  The King pondered. "I doubt that the human population would accept a part-human king at this time. So perhaps you should query only the full humans specifically, but make incidental note of the others as you come across them. It could be advantageous to know more thoroughly what other creatures inhabit Xanth and of what magic they might be capable."

  That seemed like an excellent compromise to me, and my respect for King Ebnez's judgment grew. His four decades of kingship had evidently taught him something.

  Still, it was a busy enough time. I discovered that asking questions of people was only the easy part of it. First I had to find them, and to protect myself from problems along the way. I learned caution when we entered the EverGlades, thinking that I had memorized the pattern of geography there, and promptly got lost. Only the fact that we could fly up out of them saved us, and even that was chancy because an evil cloud moved in and made a storm, forcing us to remain for several cold wet hours on the swampy ground with encroaching allegories and hypotenuses and other dangerous creatures. I really didn't mind hugging MareAnn for warmth, but the horses were annoyed because their wing feathers got soaked.

  Then there was Mount Parnassus. I concluded that the Maenads were human beings, so should be surveyed, but I knew it was dangerous to approach them, because it was their notion to eat stray men. How could I safely handle this?

  "Maybe if you stay on the horse," MareAnn suggested, "and take off the moment they charge?"

  “Too risky. I understand they can move very quickly when they're hungry, and they're always hungry."

  She nodded agreement. We would have to think of something else.

  Meanwhile we checked a human settlement near the base of the mountain. It turned out to be the supply depot for the temple of the oracle, near a cave or vent from which magic vapors issued. Young woman called Pythia sniffed these vapors and uttered sheer gibberish, which the priests then interpreted to answer the questions of visitors. Sometimes the great python forgot himself so far as to eat one of the Pythia, and then a replacement was needed, and so another girl would come from the village. They really weren't eager for such employment, but it was, as they put it, the only game in town, and their families needed the favor of the folk of Mount Parnassus. The average family of Xanth at this time was peasantly poor, as befitted the latter stage of the Dark Age. Any way to gain sustenance was grudgingly welcome, especially when the local fruit and berry patches were picked out and pie trees were between pies.

  That gave MareAnn an idea. "Why don't we go ask the oracle?" she asked. "If the answers are always accurate, when duly interpreted, we can find out how to survey the Maenads."

  I wasn't sure about this approach, but she smiled at me and as usual I went along with her. She was learning to use her innocence effectively. So we flew to the palace of the oracle. It was nice enough looking, though in disrepair, with a number of stones fallen. It was actually at the base of Mount Parnassus, but neither the Maenads nor the python seemed to be around at the moment, to our relief.

  We talked with the head priest. "Certainly we can answer your Question,” he said confidently. “What will you proffer in payment?"

  "Payment?" For a moment I was blank.

  "Surely you did not expect to achieve this valuable information for nothing?”

  I had indeed had some such notion, but hesitated to admit it. "What do you normally charge?"

  "What do you have?"

  I didn't like the direction this was going, "I don't really have anything. I'm just trying to do a survey for the King."

  "What manner of survey?"

  "I am cataloging all the human talents of Xanth."

  "Now that is interesting," he said, stroking his beard. "You will surely pick up much incidental information."

  "Yes, quite a bit. But—"

  "Suppose we do it on commission?"

  "On what?"

  "We shall give you your Answer. In return, you will give us half of what you profit from it."

  "Half of my information?"

  "Exactly. More specifically, you will share what you learn with us. That can be interpreted as all your benefit, but also as nothing, because you retain what you share. It seems fair to call it an equal measure."

  I looked at MareAnn. "Does this make sense to you?"

  "It
seems like a big price for one Answer," she said. "But if you keep all you share, then it's not a painful price. Still, I distrust it. Let's put a time limit on it."

  "A time limit!" the priest said, shocked.

  Somehow that made me feel better. "One year," I said.

  "Ten years," he responded instantly.

  So he would bargain. I knew how to do that. We pulled back and forth, and wound up where we both knew we would: five years. It still seemed expensive, but at least it wasn't forever. I really appreciated MareAnn's caution.

  So the Pythia, a girl very like the ones we had interviewed in the village, took her perch over the fuming crack in the mountain, and I stepped up and asked my Question: "How can I interview dangerous folk without danger?" For it occurred to me that there might be awkward interviews elsewhere than Parnassus. I figured I might as well get as much for my Answer as I could.

  The maiden took a deep breath of fume and kicked her legs so that her skirt lifted in a manner that made me that much more eager to get into the Adult Conspiracy. She let out a stream of indecipherable whatever, punctuated by expressions I didn't catch. Maybe I would have understood it better if my attention hadn't been partly distracted by those legs. The priests then made notes and conferred privately. After a bit they emerged to give me my interpreted Answer: "Demon conquest."

  I had somehow expected something else. "What do demons have to do with this?"

  "We don't know," the priest said. "We merely know that this is the Answer you sought. Do not forget to pay for it."

  For this I had yielded a share of all my information for the next five years? "I don't even know whether I'm supposed to beat a demon, or the demon is supposed to beat me," I complained.

  "That is a matter of indifference to us," the priest said. "Now please clear out; there may be another client on the way.''

  We mounted our horses and took off. MareAnn was no better pleased than I. Perhaps she had noticed me looking at the Pythia's legs. MareAnn's own legs were just as good, of course, but in her innocence she made no secret of them, so they were less exciting.