Air Apparent by Piers Anthony
The peeve opened its beak, but still couldn’t work up a decent insult. “That’s not true. The Simurgh is the smartest bird, followed by her son Sim. But I will ponder; maybe there is reason I was identified.”
At that point Rapunzel arrived home. She was an older yet still lovely human woman, with tresses that framed her head and body. “Why hello,” she said, her hair flaring appreciatively. “Visitors?”
“Two windbags,” the peeve said, reverting to form. “Glad Bottom and Fray Cloud.”
“The Good Magician’s daughter-in-law Wira gave us some clues where to find our lost male, Fracto,” Happy Bottom said. “The first one was the peeve. We’re not sure why.”
“What is the second one?” Rapunzel asked.
“Gwenny Goblin.”
“Have you ever been to Goblin Mountain?”
“Never. We have stayed largely in the air hitherto.”
“Then that’s it: goblins are dangerous. But the peeve knows Gwenny; she was the one who arranged to bring it here. The peeve can introduce you.”
“Goblins are dangerous?” Fray asked.
“The males are. But the peeve can handle them. We’ll have to give you the bird.”
“Lend them the bird,” the peeve corrected her.
“Of course, peeve,” Rapunzel agreed as she fetched it a cracker. “Prize sends her regards.”
“Prize is only a year old!”
“But she likes you.”
The bird was discomfited again. “Next time you stay home and I’ll visit her.”
“By all means,” Rapunzel agreed. She was a very agreeable person. “So you can go with the Clouds, introduce them to Chiefess Gwenny Goblin, then fly back here. You’ve been wanting to get out anyway, and you know you like Gwenny.”
“I don’t like anybody!” the peeve protested.
She kissed the top of the bird’s head. “But you dislike some less, don’t you?”
That stifled the bird. Obviously Rapunzel was one of the people it disliked less. Fray could appreciate that; she seemed almost as nice as Wira.
So it was arranged. The wind remained good, so they got moving promptly. Happy and Fray diffused into cloud form, and the bird flew along with them.
Progress was slow, because the wind was slow. Soon both Fray and the bird were bored. Then a small flying dragon spied the bird, and came in for the kill.
“Leave me alone, hothead!” the peeve protested nervously.
“Handle it, Fray,” Happy said.
Fray was thrilled. She collected her vapors, whipped up some drafts, and generated a charge. Then as the dragon flew by her, she loosed a small lightning bolt at it. The bolt struck it on the tail, setting fire to it. The dragon veered crazily, jetted out black smoke, and spun out of control.
“You know,” the peeve remarked, “I could get to dislike you less, too.”
Fray knew she had made a friend. She liked that.
“You say the Simurgh is the smartest bird?” Fray asked. She had spent most of her life floating in the sky, but had not encountered this particular bird.
The peeve evidently understood cloud talk. “Yes. Wisest and oldest. She has seen the universe end and be restored three times. Her chick is Sim, who will some era inherit her position.”
“Her chick? Is he young like me?”
“Almost. He’s twelve now.”
“I wish I could meet him.”
“Maybe you can. See if you can do a Sim-ulation.”
“A what?”
“A decoy to bring him in,” the bird said patiently. “Form into the shape of a big bird.”
“Like this?” Fray wrestled her vapors into a huge bird form.
“Yes. Only bigger in the head.”
She worked at it, following the bird’s directions. And a big bird appeared, the size of a grown human being, fantastically feathered and colored, flying up to investigate the ulation.
“Sim Bird, you feathered freak!” the peeve called. “Come meet Fray Cloud!”
“Squawk?”
“Fray, daughter of Fracto Cloud. She wants to meet a smart bird. And make yourself intelligible.”
“Squawk,” Sim agreed. This time Fray understood him: “Hello, Fray Cloud.”
“Hello,” she said bashfully.
“May I inquire why you summoned me with the Simulation?”
She was worse abashed. “I wanted to meet a really smart bird. The peeve said you are.”
Sim oriented on the peeve. “Are you trying to make mischief for an innocent young cloud?”
“No. Merely entertainment along the way to see Gwenny Goblin.”
“You like her!” Sim said, amazed. “Peeve, you are becoming soft in your old age.”
“Never, poop-for-brains.”
“Mother says it started when you helped rescue Prize, the baby who liked you without reservation.”
“False, feather-face.”
“So when did it start?”
“When the Golem family gave me a good home.” Then the peeve paused, disgusted. “You tricked me! I don’t admit to liking anybody.”
“Except Grundy Golem, Rapunzel Elf, Surprise Golem, Prize Golem, and Fray Cloud.”
“False!”
“Who else, then?”
“Gwenny Goblin, Hannah Barbarian—bleep! You did it again!”
“It seems your taste is mostly for the ladies.”
“Go back to your hutch, dimwit!” the peeve said furiously. “You’re ruining my reputation.”
“I’ll never tell,” Sim said, and flew back down toward the ground.
“I won’t tell either,” Fray said, delighted to have overheard the dialogue. So the irascible bird wasn’t so bad after all. That was worth knowing.
“Well, I was bad,” the peeve said. “Before I got spoiled. But our coming encounter with the goblins will bring me back to form.”
“Are goblins really so bad?”
“Worse.” The bird hesitated, then spoke again. “When we encounter them, I will have to speak to them in their language. You must cover your ears, because of the Adult Conspiracy.”
“Just what is that?”
“It protects children from being brutalized by bad things. It’s for your own good.”
“Oh, pooh!”
“That’s what all children say,” the peeve said. “Until they grow up and join it.”
“I’ll be different.”
“They all say that too.”
Fray didn’t believe it, but saw there was no use arguing. Adults of any species always thought they knew best.
The wind changed. “We’ll have to go to land early,” Happy said. “Drop and solidify.”
“Yes, Mother.” Fray dutifully condensed, and her thickening substance slid down through the air toward the ground.
They landed at the edge of a forest, assuming human form. “Fortunately Goblin Mountain is not far,” Happy said. “We should make it by nightfall.”
There was a herd of cud-chewing creatures in the way. But before they could circle around them, a cloud of smoke formed. “Ants in rum,” it said.
“Ancient rum?” Happy asked.
“Ruminants!” the peeve snapped, landing on Fray’s now-solid shoulder. “Go away, Metria.”
“Whatever,” the smoke said crossly as it formed into a lovely human female. “What are you up to now, peeve?”
“Why don’t you go soak your smoke in creosote, demoness?” the bird said politely.
“What would two compacted clouds and a disreputable bird want with a herd of cows?”
“Nothing. Are you satisfied, word-mangler?”
One of the animals heard the commotion and came over. “Get out of here, intruders,” it said threateningly, assuming the form of a boy with a bovine head.
“Or what, bullhead?” the peeve demanded using Fray’s voice.
“Or I’ll gore you to death, you insolent girl!” the bull said fiercely.
Fray retreated, frightened. “Oops, I forgot,” th
“Well, now, that’s more like it,” the cowboy said. “Just clear on out of here. And watch out for the curs.”
“What curse?” the demoness asked.
“It’s curfew,” the cowboy explained. “To keep the dogs away. If they break it, we have to curtail them.”
“To cut off their tails,” Metria agreed, getting it.
“Right. Now move on.”
They were glad to do so. But no sooner were they beyond the herd than the curs showed up, just a few of them, with docked tails. The cowboy evidently had not been bluffing.
“This is too dull,” Metria said, and faded out.
At dusk they reached Goblin Mountain. This was like a monstrous anthill, with many entrances and paths all across it, and goblins busily running along them doing whatever goblins did.
“Head for the main entrance,” the peeve advised Happy. “You’re too big for the lesser passages. Let me do the talking.”
A goblin guard challenged them as they approached the main entrance. “You must be reporting for brothel duty,” he said to Fray, who was closer to his size.
The peeve hopped to her shoulder as Fray dutifully covered her ears. “Who the bleep are you, snout-ugly?” it said in her voice. Fray did not let on that she could hear enough through her hands.
“Gatling Goblin, hussy. And who the bleep are you?”
“I am Fray Cloud, here to visit Chiefess Gwenny Goblin. Watch your bleeping language; I’m only nine years old. Now take us to your leader.”
“Forget it, slut. Clouds aren’t covered.” Gatling half turned his head. “Grab them, men. Take them to the interrogation chamber. We’ll torture them until they tell us the real reason they’re here. Then we’ll bake the bird and have some real fun with the clouds.”
Goblins swarmed up, laying many hands on them. Fray screamed, but in half an instant goblin hands were across her mouth, stifling her. The same was true for Happy. The peeve was saying something, but it was lost in the scuffle.
They were dragged into the tunnel, and to a deep chamber where goblins ripped off their clothing.
Fray did what came naturally: she vaporized. The goblins lost their grip on her as she converted to mist. Happy Bottom was doing the same.
Then everything stopped. “What is happening here?” a mind-mannered goblin man inquired politely. Fray realized that was incongruous, because goblin males were not polite.
“Nothing, Goody,” Gatling said. “Go away.”
“Goody Goblin!” the peeve exclaimed, flying to him.
“Peeve! What are you doing here?”
“I brought Happy Bottom and Fray Cloud here to see Gwenny.”
“We were just about to make her bottom happy,” Gatling muttered.
“Fray is nine years old,” the peeve said.
Goody frowned. “You were about to what, Gatling?”
But Gatling and the other male goblins had disappeared, evidently realizing they were in trouble.
Fray recondensed, forming her lost clothing about her. “What were they going to do to us?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Goody said quickly. “I’ll take you to Gwenny.”
Happy Bottom condensed again similarly. “That seems best.”
“But they were taking off our clothing,” Fray said, sure she was missing something.
“Perhaps it had gotten dirty,” Goody said uneasily.
He was right about that. Their clothing had gotten badly smudged by the dragging. But the reformed clothing was clean. The goblins hadn’t needed to clean it.
The peeve landed on her shoulder. “Adult Conspiracy,” it murmured in her ear. “He’s not allowed to tell.”
Oh, that again. Fray was getting pretty disgusted with the Conspiracy. But she shut up, knowing that adults never relented on the secrets they kept from children. Sometimes she suspected that adults existed to torment children. So she changed the subject: “Why are you so polite?”
Goody smiled. “It’s a long story, but the essence is that I suffered a dunking in reverse elixir as a child and it reversed my nature. Fortunately Gwenny doesn’t mind.”
They were just then entering a larger meeting room. “Of course I don’t mind, dear,” a lovely female goblin said, kissing him. All lady goblins were as lovely and nice as the males were ugly and crude, but she seemed especially nice. After all, even the peeve liked her.
Goody disengaged. “This is my wife Chiefess Gwenny Goblin,” he said. “These are Happy Bottom Cloud, her daughter Fray, and the pet peeve.” But Gwenny was already kissing the peeve’s feathered head, and the bird wasn’t cussing: proof enough.
“Gatling tried to bleep Happy and Fray,” the peeve said. “And he was going to bake me. Until Goody rescued us.”
Gwenny’s smile faded. “True?” she asked Goody.
“Perhaps it was a misunderstanding,” Goody said.
“The bleep it was!” the bird snapped. “You’re too bleeping softhearted, two shoes!”
“That’s why I love him,” Gwenny said. “However, I am not like him in that respect.” She turned to a goblin orderly. “Have Gatling arrested and strung up for neutering immediately after the trial.”
Fray could tell by the appalled look on the faces of Goody and Happy, and by the smug satisfaction on the peeve’s beak, that this was a singularly apt and harsh punishment. Gatling would probably never bleep a visitor again, whatever it was. There was steel wire under the soft tresses of the lady chief.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Gwenny asked Happy.
Happy had trouble answering, evidently still shaken by the fate, whatever it was, of Gatling. So Fray answered. “Father Fracto disappeared. So did Wira’s husband Hugo. So we’re helping each other look, using clues Wira got from the Good Magician’s Book of Answers. The peeve is a clue; you are another.”
“This is serious news,” Gwenny said.
“It’s secret, because something might happen to them if the murderer knew we were looking for him,” Fray said.
“Of course,” Gwenny agreed. “I suspect the peeve was indicated to get you safely here.”
“I failed,” the peeve said ruefully. “I’ve gotten too bleeping soft. In my heyday I could have let loose a verbal barrage that shriveled those goblins’ faces off their noggins.”
“Indeed you could have,” Gwenny agreed. “But you aren’t fresh from Hell any more. You are becoming infested with decency.”
The bird glanced at her uncertainly. “Are you mocking me, wench?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Gwenny said with three eighths of a smile.
“See that you don’t,” the peeve said sternly.
Gwenny returned her attention to the clouds. “You are surely tired after your journey and, um, experience. You must stay for dinner and the night. I can guarantee there will not be any other ugly events.”
“But we haven’t found out why you are a clue,” Fray said.
“I assure you, I have no part in your father’s disappearance, or in Hugo’s,” Gwenny said. “I am as mystified as you. But the Good Magician’s Book of Answers is certainly authoritative. It is what brought Goody to me.” She kissed Goody again.
“Ugh,” the peeve said. “Spare us your mush.”
“Quiet, or I’ll kiss you too,” Gwenny told it. The bird was quiet. That interested Fray: the mere threat of a kiss could cow a rebellious creature? She would have to try it sometime.
They were conducted to a surprisingly well-appointed bedroom chamber with a perch for the bird.
“How did the Book of Answers bring Goody to Gwenny?” Fray asked.
“He had to find a good home for me,” the peeve answered. “Nobody wanted me; can’t think why. Along the way he met Gwenny, and she nabbed him and dumped me with the Golem family.”
“How romantic,” F
“Ludicrous,” the peeve grumped.
Dinner was suitably elegant, with airy cotton candy for Fray and assorted seeds and bugs for the peeve. But as dessert arrived, so did trouble: a pack of ugly goblin males charged in, led by Gatling. “Death to Gwenny!” he shouted, and hurled a pie at her.
“I thought you had him arrested,” Happy said as Gwenny ducked and the pie splatted against the wall behind her.
“He got away,” Gwenny said. “I thought he had fled the mountain. Instead it seems he hid and fomented rebellion.”
“Half the males have joined them,” Goody said, concerned. “We’re in trouble.”
“What of the females?” Gwenny demanded as a piece of cake just missed her.
“They are loyal. They like having a female chief.”
“That will do.” Gwenny climbed up on the table. “Ladies: form a line between me and the rebels so they have to throw past you to get me. See if you can balk your own men.”
The ladies went to it with will and purpose. They scrambled up onto the tables. “Snotnose, what’re you doing?” one called to her man. Snotnose was abashed now that he had been recognized. “Pickle-eye, you put down that pie!” another called, and Pickle-eye, similarly abashed, did. “Frog-butt, get your sorry bleep out of here!” A third called, and Frogbutt disappeared.
Meanwhile other women were grabbing bottles of boot rear, cream tsoda, and injure jail and splattering them on the men. One sip of boot rear was enough to deliver a pleasant kick in the butt; a bottle sent the man tumbling feet over rear. The cream tsoda liked to cream whatever it encountered; it was normally used only in little drops, and the bottles wiped out the men they caught. Injure jail was strictly for punishment—and now was the occasion.
But there were too many rebels. They swarmed up to the tables and knocked them down. The women screamed as they fell into the melee, their arms and legs flashing prettily. In fact, several panties showed, causing half a swarm of males to freak out. But their inertia bore them on forward, and the panties got covered by clothing and bodies, ending the freak.
That led to a diversion, because it seemed the goblin men had only one idea what to do with goblin women. But each goblin man wanted his own goblin woman to be reserved for him alone, regardless what he did with the women of other men. Fights broke out, and now pies were being smashed into the faces of other men.