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 just 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.
