Fire Sail Page 7

  IT’S COMPLICATED.

  “It must be,” Dell agreed.

  “Dell.” It was just a murmur, but it electrified him. He went to the stateroom.

  Merrie was sitting up. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to use the—the sanitary facility. Usually I just do it in the water, but I’m not in water at the moment.”

  He did his best to hide his embarrassment, picked her up, and carried her to the magic seat that took care of such things. He set her down on it and turned away.

  “Thank you. You’re so polite.”

  “I try to be.”

  “You’re embarrassed.”

  What could he say? “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t be. We water creatures are quite natural. We don’t have the hangups some of you land creatures do.”

  “I guess not.”

  “I’m done now. Please take me back to the bed.”

  He turned, picked her up, and carried her there.

  “You can’t even look at me without suffering all sorts of reactions. Maybe I can cover up.” She found tissue beside the bed and tore out two round sections. She licked them, then stuck them to her nipples. “There. Pasties.”

  He came to to the sound of her fingers snapping by his head. “What happened?”

  “You freaked out. It seems pasties have the same effect as panties. They must be too similar, just having an S instead of an N. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. You’re a—a girl.”

  “I could cure you of that right now. Take off your clothes and get on the bed with me.”

  He was stunned. “What?”

  “It is true I have a tail instead of legs, but I still have the essential anatomy, and no accommodation spell is required, as I can readily demonstrate. They say that mermaids have all of the good parts of a girl and none of the bad parts, but that’s not true; we do have some bad parts, which really aren’t bad at all, and sailors know where to find them. Summon the stork with me, and you’ll be a whole lot less vulnerable to panties or pasties hereafter. Experience is a great educator.”

  Dell felt himself blushing intensely. He heard Nia’s uh-uh warning in his head. A pretty girl was coming on to him! “I couldn’t do that! I hardly know you.” Yet he remembered how tempted he had been with Zephyr.

  “Why not? We water creatures are quite open about such things.”

  “I—”

  Then Ula stirred, waking. “Where am I?”

  “Some other time,” Merrie whispered. The Adult Conspiracy had cut her off, to Dell’s great relief or maybe disappointment. Then to the child: “We are here with you on the boat with the burning sail. You are safe.”

  Ula sat up. “I’m hungry. But first I need to—”

  “Go tell Nia we’re about to join her for the wonderful meal she is making,” Merrie told him. “I’ll attend to this.”

  Dell hastily exited the room.

  The timing was perfect. Nia had plates laid out for four people and two animals. She glanced at Dell and instantly knew. “These days folk don’t have to marry to go stork signaling. The storks simply ignore false signals.”

  “I—um, I’m not ready.” Mainly because he was heeding Nia’s original caution. He needed to understand the mermaid’s motives better before he got in over his head, as it were.

  “That’s fine too. It’s your call, and hers. I don’t think she has ulterior motives. She just happens to like you.”

  This was weird: her mental voice had warned him off, but the real Nia wasn’t doing so. He wished he were better equipped to make such judgments.

  Soon the child appeared. “Merrie says—”

  Dell went to carry the mermaid in. “I’m sorry,” she said as he picked her up. “I didn’t mean to rush you. I was just trying to help.”

  “That’s okay,” he said guiltily.

  “I do like you. You’re a decent young man, good for a passing fling.”

  Then they were in the other room and he didn’t have to answer.

  “The only thing I’m unsure of is the uncertain tea,” Nia said. “You never know what flavor it will be. So I’m serving the prop her tea and prop his tea instead. They have real substance.”

  A pun on property, and a spin-off from that. Dell remained silent.

  They had a fine meal, and the tea was interesting as well as the truth berries, which were like lie berries only more honest. “Now I’ll wash the dishes,” Nia said.

  “You don’t need to,” the peeve said. “There’s an automatic dishwasher.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a Mundane device,” the bird explained. “Only this one operates by magic. Just put the dishes in and leave them. They’ll be clean by the time you need them again.”

  “This craft is a wonder,” Nia said, impressed.

  Dell noticed that the peeve was no longer insulting Nia or anyone else. It seemed that Nia had gotten through to it about facilitating their mission. It had just taken a while for the whole of that attitude to sink in.

  Soon they were aboveboard in the afternoon sun, sailing on with a star-shaped sail to find the children, since it was obvious that Ula was separate. She and Merrie were both delighted as the craft sailed up into the sky. Tata and the peeve also seemed happy; maybe they liked being on a mission and helping river creatures and children, instead of merely being parked.

  “There,” the peeve said suddenly, pointing with a wing. “That knoll.”

  Dell and Nia looked. There was a level glade where three children stood. They were waving. Obviously the ones they sought.

  “We’re going to need a nanny goat to babysit these kids,” the peeve complained.

  “Nobody’s babysitting,” Nia said. “Children are people too.”

  Dell continued to like her attitude.

  Nia guided the boat down to a smooth landing in the glade, and Dell turned off and furled the sail as the children ran to join them. It was almost as if they had been expecting the unusual boat.

  They were a boy of about age eleven, a girl of age nine, and another girl of age eight. All were distinctly nondescript, with forgettable hair and eye colors and no unusual features. Why had the Lost Answer connected to them? Or was it a missed connection?

  The wind died as they landed. They had made it just before the calm caught them. They wouldn’t be sailing for a while.

  “That middle child is remarkable,” Merrie remarked. “She’s a water creature.”

  “How can you tell?” Dell asked.

  “She has gills.”

  “I don’t see any gills.”

  “They’re folded down, being useless in air.”

  Well, she was the water creature; she must know.

  “And the boy’s not noticing me,” the mermaid said, sounding vaguely irritated. She took a deep breath that amplified her bare bosom to mind-blowing proportions. “Still not. That’s weird.”

  “He’s young,” Dell said.

  “Not that young. He should be staring.”

  Dell could only agree. He had to keep his eyes fixed forward so as to observe her only peripherally, lest he freak out. Obviously what mermaids lacked in panties they made up in upper architecture, even without pasties.

  “Hello,” the boy said as the children arrived. “This must be the boat we’re supposed to crew for the month.”

  Supposed to crew? Three children?

  “Maybe,” Merrie said. Now that architecture was right under his nose.

  The boy ignored it. “Do you have a bed? I’m awful tired.” Indeed, he looked worn out.

  “So am I,” the elder girl said.

  “I’m not,” the youngest said cheerily. Her hair looked windblown.

  “Then maybe you can handle the introductions,” Nia said, taking charge. “I am Grania, this is Lydell, this
is Merrie, and this is Ula. We also have the peeve here.” She nodded to the bird perched on her shoulder. “And Tata Dogfish. Who are the three of you?”

  “I’m Win,” the child said. “My talent is to have the wind always at my back. This is Squid; she’s an octopus. And this is Santo. He makes holes.”

  “Well, smell them,” the peeve said in Tata’s growly voice.

  Tata put his nose up and sniffed each child in turn, or at least their hair. A picture of a hand with the thumb pointing up appeared on his screen.

  “Better take the urchins aboard,” the peeve said. “They’re the ones. The dogfish’s never wrong.”

  “This way, kids,” Nia said. She helped them step over the gunwale and led them to the hatch. Soon Santo and Squid were sleeping on bunks and Win was snacking on eye scream from the freezer.

  “Why didn’t you speak up before, Peeve?” Grania asked.

  “I know them, or at least, of them. You need them. They’re special.”

  “In what way?”

  “Let the girl tell you.”

  Nia fixed on Win. “Tell us.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Make it a brief one.”

  “We’re from the future. We’re adopted into five families.”

  “Adopted!” Ula said, suddenly interested.

  “Now there’s a Demon Trial,” Win continued. “So we need to take a month off with a shakedown cruise, and here we are.”

  “That may be a trifle too brief,” Nia said. “We need some more information. The future? Five families? Demon Trial?”

  “It was in the Clio the Muse’s History update. Xanth’s going to be destroyed in fifty years. Maybe forty-seven years, now, ’cause we’ve been here awhile. Astrid Basilisk and the Demoness Fornax followed the time track and rescued the five of us. The Demons Nemesis and Fornax married and adopted Santo, who is gay.”

  “Gay!” Merrie exclaimed. “That explains a lot.”

  “Yes. He has to watch his step, because some folk don’t understand.”

  Dell saw that the mermaid had not understood, but now was getting there.

  “What’s this Demon Trial about?” Nia asked.

  “They say Fornax messed in with Xanth. Demons don’t allow that, so they’re looking into it. So they had to park Santo somewhere while they handle it. So Squid and I went with him, ’cause we’re his mock siblings and we understand him.”

  “Mock siblings?”

  “We’re from five different families in the future, and now we’re in five different families in the present, but we’ve got a lot in common, so we figure we’re like siblings. We try to take care of each other.”

  “But there are only three of you here,” Dell said.

  “Well, Firenze’s a hothead and a teen, so they have to keep him close. Myst’s ma got married, so she’s breaking in her new dad. But we three are all you need.”

  Dell realized that those must be the two other siblings, the hothead and the girl. “Why do we need you?”

  “Our talents, mostly. Mine’s wind.”

  “Wind?”

  “It’s always at my back. So when you sail, I can help.”

  Nia sent a look to Dell. It glanced off and went on to Merrie. Could the child’s talent really help them sail?

  “But there’s no wind,” Dell said. “We used up the last of it getting here.”

  “I’ll show you.” Win faced him. There was a breath of air that fluffed out her hair and blew in his face. This was remarkable, considering that they were inside the ship and the portholes were closed.

  “Now that’s very interesting,” Nia said. “However, it takes more than a trace breeze to power the fire sail.”

  Win faced her. The breeze picked up, becoming a wind. Then the wind became a gale tugging at her clothing and pushing her back.

  “That’s enough!” Nia said. “You have made your point. We can use your talent.”

  The wind died out. “I thought I could help,” the child said a bit smugly. “Just tell me which way you want to go, and I’ll blow my wind that way.”

  “No more tacking,” Nia said, gratified.

  “Well, our next port may be a royal wedding,” Dell said. “Then a future visit. But we have no idea where the wedding is, and—” He broke off, startled.

  “The future visit,” Nia said, picking up on it. “You children are visiting from the future!”

  “No, we’re here to stay,” Win said. “It’s no visit.”

  “Tata will know,” the peeve said.

  They looked at the dogfish. There was a map on his screen showing another geographic spot.

  “But how can he know?” Merrie asked.

  Dell caught on, “He associates with the Princess Eve. She must know.”

  Tata wagged his tail.

  “I love weddings,” Merrie said. “I hope they let me attend.”

  “First let’s see if we can find it,” Nia said. “We can sail in that direction.”

  They went aboveboard, leaving Santo and Squid asleep, and set up for sailing. Win joined Nia at the stern, facing the sail. Merrie and Ula sat at the prow, and the firebird and firedog settled in the middle under the flame-shaped sail.

  The wind rose. They weighed the anchor—it wasn’t very heavy—and sailed into the sky.

  “Say, this is fun,” Win said, gazing at the landscape passing below.

  Ula looked at the map and pointed the correct direction. She was being useful in an unexpected way, per her talent. Nia steered the boat that way, and Win kept the wind blowing. It was refreshing.

  “There are other things we should know,” Nia told Win. “Such as why did you children come to us without a supervising adult?”

  “We are children,” Win agreed. “So we do need adult supervision. But our folks can’t afford to trust just anyone, so they sent us to the most trustworthy adults in Xanth. That’s you two with the boat. Santo made a hole here, but then I had a potty incident that made us late, so you had already moved on to your second landing. So Santo had to make another hole, to get ahead of you. Then we got lost on the paths, and he had to make a third hole to get us out of trouble. That’s why he’s so tired. Little holes are easy, but big ones take a lot out of him. Squid’s not really tired; she just said that so she could stay with Santo and make sure he’s safe while he recovers. We take care of each other.”

  Even Tata and the peeve were confused by this. “Tell us in detail,” Nia said. “We have time to listen.”

  “Okay.”

  Dell, Nia, and the others listened.

  Win and Squid came to join Santo as the Demons were ready to depart for the Demon Hearing. Fornax hugged them both in the human manner, though she was as far from human as it was possible to get. “Go to Fibot,” she told them. “That’s the boat with the fiery sail. You’ll like it, and they can use your talents. Santo has the address.” She vanished.

  “Why a boat?” Squid asked Santo.

  “The two most trustworthy folk in Xanth are piloting it,” Santo said. “We’ll be safe with them. There are also fun animals.”

  Win knew that was good, because Fornax didn’t trust just anyone to take care of the children. She took her adoptive motherhood seriously, and that extended to all of them. After all, she had been half the team that rescued them from the future. That might be part of the reason she was in trouble. Demons did not think the way real folk did. But Win loved the idea of fun animals.

  Santo focused. There was a swirl before him that expanded from a dot to a round hole big enough for them to walk through. They stepped through it and were on a bright bank by a fading river. It was far away from where they had started; Santo’s holes were pretty much instant.

  “We’re slightly early,” Santo said. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “I have to poop,” Wi
n said.

  “Why didn’t you do it back at the house?”

  “I didn’t need to do it then.”

  He was disgusted. “Find a place, brat.”

  She forged into the tall weeds and found a place. Then she needed a leaf for a wipe, but there were only prickly burrs around. It took her some time to find a substitute.

  Santo was disgusted again. “You took too long. We saw the boat come down, pick up a mermaid, and take off again. Now I have to make another hole.”

  “Don’t blame her. It’s complicated for girls,” Squid said.

  “I’m glad I’m not a girl.” He was gruff when they were alone, but Win knew he took his brother role seriously.

  Santo made another hole. They stepped through it.

  They were at the center of a congregation of paths. One of them must lead to where the boat would be. But which one?

  “What about this one?” Win asked innocently.

  “Are you crazy?” Santo demanded. He was now in a bad mood because he had had to make a second hole, and it had depleted him. “That’s a Psycho Path.”

  “Then maybe this one,” Win said, undaunted. Her brother might be irritated, but she knew he was okay underneath it.

  “That’s almost as bad. It’s a socio path.” Santo knew about paths because they were related in a way to holes, as things that got folk places.

  “Then maybe this one?”

  “That’s a tele path. Your mind will be wide open to everyone the moment you set foot on it.”

  Win considered that, and concluded that she didn’t want everyone knowing about her recent poop or how it had made them miss their rendezvous.

  Finally, for no particular reason, they tried the idio path. It was interesting, with odd things happening along it, like trees growing upside down or fish sporting funny names like Sel or Wanda. Win could not make sense of it; there seemed to be no consistent theme.

  It led them to a section of walls with odd corners and tilts, among which were two standing figures of winged men with a sword or tube of glue. “Who or what are you?” Squid asked them.

  “I am the Angel of Attack,” one man said. “This is my brother, the Angel of Attach. I chop things up; he glues them back together.” He raised his sword menacingly.