Ogre Ogre x-5 Page 8

  "Six months," Smash said. "You think I'm stupid?"

  "I did think that," the coffin confessed. "After all, you are an ogre, and it is well known that the brains of ogres are mostly in their muscles. In fact, their brains are mostly muscles."

  "Not true," Smash said. "An ogre's skull is filled with bone, not muscle."

  "I stand corrected. My skull is filled with necrosis. How about sixty days?"

  "Four months."

  "Split the difference: ninety days."

  "Okay," Smash agreed. "But I don't agree you are entitled to keep any soul, just because you tricked an innocent girl into trading it off for nothing."

  "Are you sure you're an ogre? You don't sound like one."

  "I'm an ogre," Smash affirmed. "Would you like me to throw you around some more to prove it?"

  "That won't be necessary," the coffin said quickly. "If you disagree with the assessment, you must deal with the boss: the Night Stallion. He makes decisions of policy."

  "The Dark Horse?"

  "Close enough; some do call him that. He governs the herd of nightmares."

  It began to fall into place. "This is where the nightmares live? By day, when they're not out delivering bad dreams to sleepers?"

  "Exactly. All the bad dreams are generated here in the gourd, from the raw material of people's fundamental fears-loss, pain, death, shame, and the unknown. The Stallion decides where the dreams go, and the mares take them there. Your girlfriend abused a mare, so it took a lien on her soul, and when she came here, that lien was called due. So her soul is forfeit, and now we have it, and only the Night Stallion can change that. Why don't we set you up for an appointment with the Stallion, and you can settle this directly with him?"

  "An appointment? When?"

  "Well, he has a full calendar. Bad dreams aren't light fancies, you know. There's a lot of evil in the world that needs recognition. It's a lot of work to craft each dream correctly and designate it for exactly the right person at the right time. So the Stallion is quite busy. The first opening is six months hence."

  "But my lien expires in three months!"

  "You're smarter than the average ogre, for sure! You might force an earlier audience, but you'd have to find the Stallion first. He certainly won't come to you within three months. I really wouldn't recommend the effort of locating him."

  Smash considered again. It seemed to him that this coffin protested too profusely. Something was being concealed here. Time for the ogre act again. "Perhaps so," he said. "There is therefore no point in restraining my natural inclination for violence." He picked up a rock and crumpled it to chips and sand

  with one hand. He eyed the coffin.

  "But I'm sure you can find him!" the box said quickly. "All you have to do is seek the path of most resistance. That's all I can tell you, honest!"

  Smash decided that he had gotten as much as he could from the coffin. "Good enough. Give me the girl's soul, and I'll leave my three-month lien and meet the Stallion when I find him."

  "Do you think a soul is something you can just carry in your hand?" the coffin demanded derisively.

  "Yes," Smash said. He contemplated his hand, slowly closing it into a brutishly ugly fist that hovered menacingly over the coffin.

  "Quite," the coffin agreed nervously, sweating another blob of stinking goo. The soul floated up, a luminescent globe that passed right through the wood. Smash cupped it carefully in his hand and tromped from the gloomy chamber. Neither coffin nor skeletons opposed him.

  Tandy sat where she had been, the picture of hopeless girlish misery. "Here is your soul," Smash said, and held out the glowing globe.

  Unbelievingly, she reached for it. The globe expanded at her touch, becoming a ghost-shape that quickly overlapped her body and merged. For an instant her entire body glowed, right through the tattered red dress; then she was her normal self. "Oh, Smash, you did it!" she exclaimed. "I love you! You recovered my soul from that awful corpse!"

  "I promised to protect you," he said gruffly.

  "How can I reward you?" She was actually pinching herself, amazed by her restoration. Smash, too, was amazed; he had not before appreciated how much difference a person's soul made.

  "No reward," he insisted. "It's part of my job, my service for my Answer."

  She considered. "Yes, I suppose. But how ever did you do it? I thought there was no way-"

  "I had to indulge my natural propensities slightly," he admitted, glancing at the pile of bones he had made. The bones shuddered and settled lower, eager to avoid his attention.

  "Oh. I guess you were more terrible than the skeletons were," she said.

  "Naturally. That. is the nature of ogres. We're worse than anything." Smash thought it best not to inform her of the actual nature of his deal. "Let's get out of here."

  "Oh, yes! But how?"

  That was another problem. He could bash through walls, but the force holding Tandy and himself inside the gourd was intangible. "I think we'll have to wait for the Siren to free us. All she has to do is move the gourd so we can't look into it any more, but she doesn't know when we'll be finished in here."

  "Oh, I don't want to stay another minute in this horrible place! If I had known what would happen when I peeked into that funny little hole-"

  "It's not a bad place, this," Smash said, trying to cheer her. "It can even be fun."

  "Fun? In this awful graveyard?"

  "Like this." Smash had spied a skeleton poking around a grave, perhaps looking for a new convert. He sneaked up behind it. Ogres didn't have to shake the earth when they walked; they did it because they enjoyed it. "B0001" he bellowed.

  The skeleton leaped right out of its foot-bones and stumbled away, terrified. Tandy had to smile. "You're pretty scary, all right, Smash," she agreed.

  They settled down against a large gravestone. Tandy huddled within the protection of the ogre's huge, hairy arm. It was the only place the poor little girl felt safe in this region.

  Chapter 5. Prints of Wails

  The Siren greeted them anxiously as they woke to the outer afternoon of Xanth. "I gave you an hour this time, Smash; I just didn't dare wait longer," she said. "Are you all right?"

  "I have my soul back!" Tandy said brightly. "Smash got it for me!"

  The Siren had been looking her age, for her human stock caused her to be less than immortal. Now relief was visibly restoring her youthfulness. "That's wonderful, dear," she said, hugging her. Then, looking at Smash, the Siren sobered again. "But usually souls can't be recovered without hell to pay-ah, that is, some sort of quid pro quo. Are you sure-"

  "I've got mine," Smash said jovially. "Such as it is. Ogres do have souls, don't they?"

  "As far as I know, only people of human derivation have souls," the Siren said. "But all of those do, even if their human ancestor was many generations ago, and so we three qualify. I'm sure yours is as good as any, Smash, and perhaps better than some."

  "It must be stronger and stupider, anyway," he said.

  "I'm so glad it's all right," the Siren said, seeming not entirely convinced. She evidently suspected something, but chose not to make an issue of it at this time. Older females tended to be less innocent than young ones, he realized, but also more discreet.

  They considered their situation. There seemed to be no ogres and no merfolk at Lake Ogre-Chobee, despite its name.

  "Now I remember," Smash said. "The curse-fiends drove the ogres away. They migrated north to the Ogre-fen-Ogre Fen. I don't know why I didn't think of that before!"

  "Because you weren't cursed by the Eye Queue before, silly," Tandy said. "You weren't very smart. But that's all right; we'll just go up to the Ogre Fen and find your tribe."

  "But that's the entire length of Xanth!" the Siren protested. "Who knows what horrors lie along the way?"

  "Yes, fun," Smash said.

  "Funny, the Good Magician didn't remind you about the ogres' change of residence," the Siren said.

  "Well, there's certainly not much
doing here. I would like to travel with you a little longer, if I may, at least until I find a lake inhabited by merfolk."

  "Sure, come along, we like your company," Tandy said immediately, and Smash shrugged. It really made little difference to him. He was partially preoccupied by his problem with the lien on his soul. He would soon have to find a pretext to go back into the gourd to search for the Night Stallion and fight for his soul.

  "But first, let's abolish this menace once and for all," the Siren said. She picked up the hypnogourd and lifted it high overhead, throwing it violently to the ground.

  "No!" Smash cried. But before he could move, the gourd had smashed to earth. It fragmented into pinkish pulp, black seeds, and translucent juice. There was no sign of the world he and Tandy had toured within it; the magic was gone.

  The ogre stood staring at the ruin. Now, how could he return to that world to settle his account?

  Somehow he knew his lien had not been abated by the destruction of the gourd; his avenue to that world had merely been closed. It would take time to manifest, but he knew he was in very bad trouble.

  "Is something wrong?" the Siren asked. "Did you leave something in there?"

  "It doesn't matter," Smash said brusquely. After all, she had meant well, and there was nothing to be done now. No point in upsetting the girls, no matter how privately satisfying it might have been to rant and rave and stomp, ogre-style, until the whole forest and lake trembled and roiled with reaction to the violence.

  They trekked north through the variegated jungle and tundra and intemperate zones of Xanth. Most of the local flora and fauna left the party alone, wisely not wishing to antagonize an ogre. Upon occasion, some gnarled old bull-spruce would paw the earth with a branch-hoof and poke a limb-horn into the way, but a short, sharp blow with Smash's gauntleted fist taught such trees manners. Progress was good.

  They were just considering where to spend the night when they heard something. There was a thin, barely audible screaming, and a cacophony of ugly pantings, breathings, and raspings. "Something unpleasant is going on," the Siren said.

  "I'll investigate," Smash said, glad for the chance for a little relaxing violence. He tromped toward the commotion.

  A crowd of multilegged things was chasing a little fairy lass, who seemed to have hurt one of her gossamer wings. She was running this way and that, but wherever she went, creatures like squished caterpillars with tentacles moved to block the way, dribbling hungry drool. The fairy was screaming with fright and horror, and the pursuers were reveling in her discomfort, playing cruelly with her before closing for the kill.

  "What's this? " Smash demanded.

  One of the creatures turned toward him, though it was hard to tell which side was its front. "Stay out of what does not concern you, trashface," it said insolently.

  Now, Smash normally did not involve himself in what did not concern him, but his recent experience with Tandy in the gourd had sensitized him to the plight of small, pretty females in distress. Also, he did not like being told to stay out, despite the compliment to his face. Therefore he reacted with polite force.

  "Get out of here, you ghastly parody."

  "Oho! the ghastly cried. "So the dumb brute needs a lesson, too!"

  Immediately the creatures oriented on Smash. From a distance they were repulsive; from up close, they were worse. They launched purple spittle at him, belched obscenely all over their bodies, and scratched at him with dirty claws. But several still chased the hapless fairy lass.

  Smash became moderately perturbed. Now it seemed the reputation of ogres was on the line. He picked up a ghastly. It defecated on his paw. He heaved it into the forest. It scurried back. He pounded another into the ground-but it merely squished flat, then rebounded. He tore one apart, but it just stretched impossibly, and snapped back to its normal shapelessness when he let go, leaving a slug of smelly slime on his fingers.

  Now the fairy screamed louder. The ghastlies had almost caught her. Smash had to act quickly or he would be too late to help her. But what would stop these creatures? Fortunately, his new intelligence assisted. If throwing, pounding, and stretching didn't work, maybe tying would. He grabbed two ghastlies and squeezed and squished them together, tying a knot in their infinitely stretchable limbs.

  Then he tied in a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Soon he had a huge ball of tied ghastlies, since they kept coming stupidly at him. Their rebounding and stretching didn't do them much good; it merely tightened the knots. In due course, all the ghastlies were balled together, spitting, hissing, scratching, and pooping on each other constantly.

  Smash dropped the ball, wiped himself off on some towel-leaves, and checked on the fairy. She was as frightened of him as she had been of the ghastlies. He did not chase her; he had only wanted to make sure she was not too badly hurt.

  When the fairy saw him stop, she stopped. She was a tiny thing, hardly half the height of Tandy, a nude girl form with sparldingly mussed hair and thin, iridescent wings with scenic patterns. "You aren't chasing me, ogre?"

  "No. Go your way in peace, fairy."

  "But why did you tie all the ghastlies in a knot, if you didn't want to gobble me up?"

  "To help you escape."

  She had difficulty assimilating this. "I thought you were an ogre, but you neither sound nor act like one."

  "We all have our off days," Smash said apologetically.

  Tandy and the Siren arrived. "He's a gentle ogre," the Siren explained. "He helps the helpless." She introduced the three of them.

  "I'm John," the fairy said. Then, before they could react, she continued. "I know, I know it's not a proper name for the like of me, but my father was away when I was born, and the message got garbled, and I was stuck with it. So now I'm on a quest for my proper name. But I got tossed by a gust and hurt my wing, and then the ghastlies-"

  "Why don't you travel with us?" Tandy asked. "Until your wing gets better. Monsters don't bother us much. We have one of our own." She gripped Smash's dangling hamhand possessively.

  John considered, evidently uncertain about traveling with a monster. Then the ball of ghastlies began working loose, and she decided. "Yes, I will go with you. It should take only a day or so for my wing to mend."

  Smash did not comment. He had not asked for any companions, but Tandy had been forced on him, and she had a propensity for inviting others. Perhaps it was because Xanth was so new to her that she felt the company of others who were more familiar with it would improve things. Maybe she was right; the Siren had certainly helped them get out of the gourd. It didn't really matter; Smash could travel with three as well as with one.

  Now night came. Smash foraged for food and found a patch of spaghetti just ripening near a spice tree.

  He harvested several great handfuls, shook the spice on them, and proffered this for their repast. The girls seemed a trifle doubtful at first, but all were hungry, and soon they were consuming the delicious, slippery stuff, ogre-style, by the handful and slurpful. Then they found a basket palm with enough stout hanging baskets for all, and spent a reasonably comfortable night.

  But before they slept, the Siren questioned John about the kind of name she was looking for. "Why don't you just take any name you like and use it?"

  "Oh, I couldn't," John said. "I can answer only to the name I was given. Since I was given the wrong one, I must keep it until I recover the right one."

  "How can you be sure there is a right one? If your father was misinformed-"

  "Oh, no, he knew who I was. He sent back a good name, but somehow it got lost, and the wrong name arrived instead. By the time he got home, it was too late to fix it."

  Smash understood the Siren's perplexity. He, like her, had not been aware that names were so intricately tagged.

  "Does that mean that someone else got your name?" the Siren asked.

  "Of course. Some male fairy got my name, and must be as unhappy with it as I am with his. But if I find him, we can exchange them. Then everything will be ju
st fine."

  "I see," the Siren said. "I hope you find him soon."

  In the morning they breakfasted on honeydew that had formed on the leaves of the basket tree, then resumed the trek north. John buzzed her healing wing every so often, and the pattern on it seemed to come alive in a three-dimensional image, like flowers blooming, but she could not yet fly. She had to be content to walk. She was a cheery little thing, good company, and full of cute anecdotes about life among the fairies. It seemed the Fairy Kingdom was a large one, with many principalities and interstate

  commerce between groups, and internecine trade wars.

  They started to climb. None of them was familiar with this section of Xanth, which was east of the Region of Madness, so they merely proceeded directly north. With luck, it wouldn't be too bad.

  But it was bad. The mountain became so steep it was impossible to climb normally. They could not go around it, because the sides of the channel they traveled had risen even more steeply. They had either to proceed forward or to retreat all the way to the base and try another approach. None was willing to retreat.

  Smash used his gauntleted fists to break out sections of rock, making crude steps for the others.

  Fortunately, the really steep part was not extensive, and by noon they stood at the top.

  It was a lake, hardly on the scale of Ogre-Chobee but impressive enough, brimful with sparkling water.

  "This must be an old volcano," John said. "I have flown over similar ones, though not this big. We must beware; water dragons like such lakes, especially if they are hot on the bottom."

  Smash grimaced. He didn't like water dragons, because they tended to be too much for an honest ogre to handle.

  But he saw no sign of such a creature here. No droppings, no piles of bones, no discarded old scales or teeth.

  "What are those?" Tandy inquired, pointing.

  There were marks on the surface of the water. They were roughly circular indentations, with smaller indentations on one side of each large one. "They look like prints," the Siren said. "As if some creature walked on the water. Is that possible?"

  Smash put one foot on the water. It sank through. The ripples moved across the prints, erasing them.