Pet Peeve Part 18

"No," he admitted.

"That's what courage is. I didn't like being a helpless female, not one bit, but you were there for me. That helped a lot. Now I know that a man can be polite, and still a man. I'll bet most goblin males are cowards, too, under their bl.u.s.ter. It's a good lesson."

He was somewhat at a loss. "Thank you," he repeated, feeling inane. "The reverse wood powder must have reversed that aspect too."

She reached out in the darkness and found his hand. She squeezed it, gently. "Thank you you for teaching me that." for teaching me that."

Goody's restlessness faded, and he slept well.

In the morning they packed up and made ready to move on. "Just one thing, before we go," Hannah said.

"Of course."

"Where are we going?"

That brought him up short. "I don't know. I hadn't thought it through, beyond trying the Region of Madness. And getting out of it."

"Where else might there be anyone dumb enough to want this bird?"

"Nowhere else, you hand-holding s.l.u.t!"

"I very much fear the bird is correct. It feels like an impossible mission."

"How about Castle Zombie?"

Goody considered. Zombies were stupid, because their brains were rotten. "Do zombies keep live pets?"

"Maybe if they get the chance."

It seemed promising. "Castle Zombie," he agreed.

They cut across to an enchanted path, and oriented on Castle Zombie. It would take them more than a day, but that didn't matter.

Travelers on the enchanted paths were invariably harmless, but could be interesting. Goody was glad to settle for that.

They paused for a snack on pot pies. A young human man was there. "h.e.l.lo, barbarian, h.e.l.lo goblin," he said. "I am Phil, with an embarra.s.sing talent."

"Not half as embarra.s.sing as your stupid face!"

"The bird talks!" Goody and Hannah said together.

"Ignore it," Hannah concluded.

"Thank you for clarifying that."

"Goody Goblin and Hannah Barbarian," Goody said. "Talents of bouncing back threats and precise weapons control. We are trying to find a good home for the bird."

Phil burst out laughing. "I wish you every success."

"What is this embarra.s.sing talent of yours?" Hannah asked.

"I project the most embarra.s.sing moments of others. So my talent isn't much in demand, as you can appreciate."

"We can pa.s.s that by," Goody said, thinking of his recent crying scene. He would prefer that that never be advertised.

"Agreed," Hannah said.

"Cowards!"

They exchanged a glance. "Can you do birds?" Hannah asked.

"I think so. I'm willing to try. But really, it isn't necessary."

"Not necessary, but maybe very satisfying," Hannah said.

"It won't work. Nothing embarra.s.ses me, you faker."

Then a scene appeared around the bird. It showed a cute little boy surrounded by slightly older girls. They were admiring the boy's just-discovered talent of turning body parts different colors. One girl had a bright green thumb, another a black eye, a third a red eye, and the forth a brown nose. They were clapping their hands with delight, knowing that the effects were temporary.

The peeve arrived, landing on a nearby branch. "OoOoo!" the girls cried in chorus. "A green bird!"

"OwWww!" the peeve said, cruelly parodying their tone. "A flock of white chicks!"

"It talks!" the girl with the brown nose said. She was always the first to cater to anyone notable.

"Can't say the same for you, c.r.a.pnose."

"It insulted you!" the black-eyed girl said, clapping her hands with glee.

"And you, rot-eye."

Now they all clapped their hands, thrilled. "Isn't nature wonderful," the girl with the green thumb said.

"Too bad you don't have any."

They all laughed at this great humor.

The parody turned its attention on the boy. "You call that a talent, smudge color? What good is it?"

"I don't know," the boy said. "It's just fun."

"It's just fun," the bird mimicked, the sarcasm practically dripping from the words.

But the boy was too young to get it. "Fun," he repeated happily.

Then the bird's beak turned pink.

The girls applauded. "Pretty beak, pretty beak!" they said. One held up a little mirror so the bird could see the effect.

"Pretty, my festering foot!"

Then the peeve's wings turned red.

"A red-winged greenbird!" the girls exclaimed, delighted anew.

"Ludicrous!" the bird said, outraged.

Its feet turned blue. Finally its eyes turned pink, matching its bill.

The girls cheered, thrilled. They agreed this was the best bird ever, and wanted to keep it forever.

Horribly embarra.s.sed, the parody flew away. Its colors reverted to natural dull green the moment it left the vicinity of the boy, but that wasn't the point. The point was that no matter how hard it had tried to insult the group of children, it had done the opposite, pleasing them. What awful shame!

The scene faded. They were back in the present.

"Well, now," Hannah said. "That must have been when you were ranging the countryside, before Professor Grossclout sent you to h.e.l.l. Your one abject failure. Now we know."

The parody hung its head.

"We are all ent.i.tled to occasional failure," Goody said. "That's how we learn. I think I have failed more than I have succeeded."

"Well, you're an effeminate goblin," the bird said, hardly mollified.

"And not much of a failure," Hannah said. "Why don't we all just forget about the past, and focus on the present? We've got a meal to make and a night's resting to do."

The others were glad to agree.

Next day they marched on toward Castle Zombie. The parody recovered its spirit, and insulted everyone they encountered. These included a group of knights who were looking for adventure, and not having much luck. There was Sir Fer, who preferred to ride sea horses; Sir Prise, who liked to pop up unexpectedly; Sir Pent, who was a naga; Sir Comspect, who tended to evade casual notice; Sir Tain, who inspired confidence; and Sir c.u.mnavigate, who could get around anything. By the time the bird was done with them, they were more like daze than knights.

In late afternoon they spied the castle. It was decrepit, with stones dissolving and a moat filled with sludge. Zombies were all around, shuffling aimlessly here and there.

"What a bunch of freaks!" The parody's observation was unkind, but accurate.

They paused to consider. "I don't think I would care to live here," Hannah said.

"I must admit to wondering what the purpose of a zombie is," Goody said.

"Oh, I know that. They defend Xanth from attack. There's a whole graveyard full of them at Castle Roogna. I think they also handle other jobs the regular folk don't like, such as processing organic wastes. And I think they run the dead letter office."

"Letters can die?"

"Well, I can't read them, so I don't know, but I think they do die when they can't be delivered. I hear a big snail delivers them. There was some kind of flap about that a few years ago, when some old letters got delivered after all. So maybe it's the un-dead letter office."

"Maybe a priority male delivered them."

She glanced sidelong at him as if suspecting a pun. "Maybe. I heard one was delivered to the Demon Jupiter, and it made him so mad he hurled his red spot at Xanth."

"Oh? Did it hit us?"

"I don't think so. It must have missed."

Goody gazed at the decrepit castle with distaste. "I understand that living human folk run it."

"That's what I heard. So we had better locate them, and ask whether they would like to adopt the dirty bird."

They reluctantly approached the castle. "What a stench!" the bird complained. No one debated that.

At the rickety drawbridge a zombie soldier challenged them. "Hals.h.!.+ Who goesh zere?"

"Whosh the h.e.l.lsh wants to knowsh?" the parody demanded insolently.

"Goody Goblin, Hannah Barbarian, and a pet peeve," Goody said quickly. "We would like to talk with the proprietor."

"Thish way, pleaze."

They followed the zombie across the rotten planks of the bridge and into the castle. Ichor drooled along the dingy stone walls, and rotting bits of zombie flesh were in the corners. Goody suppressed his reaction, but the parody didn't.

"This place is a rotten grease trap!" Again there was no argument.

The zombie lifted a partially fleshed hand and knocked a bit squis.h.i.+ly on a wood door. "Mishtris.h.!.+" it called.

The door opened. A dark young woman stood there. "Yes, Benjamine?"

"Vizitshers."

The woman looked past the zombie and saw them. "Oh, living visitors! Come in. I'm Breanna of the Black Wave."

They entered her apartment, which was abruptly free of slime, rot, odor, or other zombie indications. That was a relief. "I am Goody Goblin, and this is Hannah Barbarian."

"It's so nice to see living folk for a change. The zombies are wonderful in their way, but all day every day gets wearisome. What brings you here?"

"We're on a mission for the Good Magician," Goody said. "We have to find a good home for the parody here."

Breanna looked at the peeve. "That doesn't seem difficult. Hi, birdy."

"Go soak your face, you smarmy black piece of snot!" Goody's voice said.

"Who borrows our voices to insult others," Goody said. "I apologize for its behavior. That's what makes it difficult to place."

"Now I have some faint suspicion why," Breanna agreed. "Meanwhile, there's something about you that confuses me."

"I am a polite male goblin."

"That's it! I never heard of that before. I would have expected an att.i.tude more like the bird's. Are you a transformed human or something?"

"No, I drank powdered reverse wood as a child. It made me everything I was not. A subsequent drink did not reverse it. I am a pariah among my kind."

"And the goblin girls won't touch you," she said, appreciating it.