"Oops--it's the dragnet," Chem said. "Grundy, quickly--explain to the female Gap Dragon--"

But the dragoness had been paying close attention to the zaps. She had evidently been around for the last wiggle swarming, or perhaps the one before that, and knew how to deal with wiggles. She pounced on the tiny worm that appeared near her, crunching it in her teeth. Then she spat out the remains, making a lugubrious face.

"They taste terrible, I understand," Chem explained.

"But they can be crushed to death--if caught at the right moment." She grimaced. "Grundy, see if we can work things out with the dragoness. I fear we have a problem that's bigger than any of us."

The golem started talking to the netted creature, who listened attentively.

"So the wiggles travel in zippy lines," Irene said, irritated by her evident ignorance of something important. "What's wrong with that? Why kill an innocent flying worm that's just minding it's own business?"

"It's the way they travel," Chem explained. "They go through things, they leave holes. When they go through air, a vacuum is left behind; the 'zzapp' is the sound of that tunnel of vacuum collapsing. When they go through trees, the wood is punctured. When a person is in the way--"

"I begin to understand," Irene said, shuddering. "And there's no way to stop them?"

"Only by killing them," Chem said. "Their bodies are tough, yet can be crushed. I was going to squish this one between the pieces of wood, but the lady Gap Dragon chewed it instead. It's also good to put a wiggle between a rock and a hard place. However this was only one. Wiggles never travel singly; they're always part of a swarm of thousands, radiating out from a central nest. We must find and destroy that nest and must eradicate every individual wiggle who has already departed from it, because any one of them can get to where it's going, hibernate for decades, then form a new nest and swarm again. No one knows precisely what a wiggle is doing between swarms, but the life pattern of its species seems to resemble its individual one--mostly stasis, punctuated by sudden, calamitous movement. If too many wiggles escape, the next swarming could consist of many nests in different locations--"

"And all those zapping worms, punching through plants and animals and people, could threaten much of the rest of life in Xanth," Irene concluded. "Now at last I have caught up with you! We must organize a campaign for extermination!"

"We must indeed," Chem agreed. "I'm afraid this pre-empts our search for Ivy and Hugo, for now all of Xanth is threatened."

"Ivy and Hugo!" Irene exclaimed, stricken. "My vision--the terrible, unseen threat--this is it!"

The Gorgon was equally horrified. "If they are headed toward the swarm, not knowing--"

"Yet we cannot ignore the swarm itself," Chem insisted. "If we pursue the children now, the wiggles could overrun Xanth and be entirely out of control. The greater good requires--"

"Don't try to use reason on a worried mother," Grundy said.

"I'll do both," Irene said resolutely. "I won't let either Xanth or my child be doomed! But how can we best fight the wiggle menace?"

"All the creatures of the region must be summoned to help," Chem said. "Each must stomp or chew or otherwise crush or dispose of one wiggle at a time. It's a tedious and dangerous ch.o.r.e, for anyone near a wiggle swarm is apt to get holed, but there is no other way. And it must be done rapidly, because more wiggles must be pouring out of that nest every moment, and they don't wait for anything except their own mysterious imperative. How anyone can reach the nest without getting hopelessly holed is problematical, but it must be attempted."

"The female dragon understands," Grundy announced. "She's been around a long time. She's seen wiggles before. She'll help fight them."

"Will she stop chasing us if we free her?" the Gorgon asked.

The golem growled at the dragoness.

"How did they eradicate the last nest?" Irene asked in the interim.

"I believe they got a salamander to start a magic fire," the centaur said. "The fire burned inward in a constricting circle, destroying them all. But our chance of finding a salamander in time to do the job is not good; they're very rare and private creatures."

"I can grow a flame-vine--" Irene said.

"No, only magic fire will do it, as I understand it," the centaur said. "Ordinary fire might get a few, but could also burn out of control. Salamander fire burns anything and everything, which regular fire doesn't, but it is also one-way, so it is self-limiting. Both qualities are essential; otherwise we would do more harm than good."

"The dragoness says she'll spare us," Grundy reported. "She was after us only because she was hungry. She's been so busy searching for her mate, she forgot to eat--"

"I understand perfectly," the Gorgon said. "Tell her we'll help her find her mate, if she helps us now. But tell her also about the youthening--"

"Her mate is with my child," Irene said. "Our missions coincide."

"She agrees. But she's very hungry."

That was a problem. It was not safe for anyone to keep company with a hungry dragon! "I can grow beefsteak tomatoes for her," Irene offered. She fished out a seed. "Grow."

The plant burst into growth and soon fruited. The dragoness grabbed the beefsteaks as the Gorgon plucked them and tossed them to her.

Irene found an acid seed and planted it near the rooted edge of the dragonet. The acid ate into the net, dissolving the strands, and soon the lady Gap Dragon was able to crawl out.

Zzapp!

"Let me go after this one!" the Gorgon said. She followed the sound, located the worm, and put her face close to it. Then she lifted her veil, while the others averted their eyes. Grundy warned the dragoness, who also looked away.

The worm fell like a little stone. "It worked!" the Gorgon cried, dropping her veil back into place. "I can stone them!"

"Just watch you don't try it when one's about to zap!" Grundy warned. "You'd get holed through your face."

"I'll be careful," the Gorgon promised.

"Very well," Irene said. "Let's start organizing this. As I see it, we have three things to do. We have to fight the wiggles here, rescue the children--all three of them--and alert the rest of Xanth to the crisis. I think we can do all three at once, by splitting up our party. Gorgon, why don't you and the lady Gap Dragon work together here, stoning wiggles? She can carry you rapidly to and away from them, so you'll have the situation under control, and you can stone all the wiggles you meet. You can work better without the rest of us, because--"

"I understand," the Gorgon said. "I don't want a crowd of people around when I lift my veil!"

"But what about the dragoness' quest for the real Gap Dragon?" Chem asked.

"If she helps fight the wiggles here, that will free the rest of us to continue our search for the children, picking up their trail at the Cyclops' cave," Irene explained. "If we find the little dragon with Ivy and Hugo, as it seems we should, Grundy can tell him where to find the female dragon--so that will be all right." She nodded to herself. "You know, it becomes more plain why Humfrey said to preserve the Gap Dragon. There are interactions out here in the wilderness that we know little of, but that can relate intimately to the welfare of all Xanth."

"The total ecology," Chem agreed. "We ignore it at our peril. Everything relates."

Grundy explained to the dragoness, who nodded. She well understood the need and recognized that Irene's party could do a better job of tracking down the children more quickly than she herself could. Now that the edge had been taken off her hunger, she was a reasonable creature. Soon she and the Gorgon moved off, the dragoness' keen ears perked for more zaps. Dragons' ears were very special; she would locate more wiggles more rapidly than the others could.

"Now for the reinforcements," Irene said. "Grundy--we need you for translations, but now I think we need even more to get the word out about the wiggles. If we encounter the rejuvenated Gap Dragon before you rejoin us, we'll try to communicate with him somehow. Maybe Ivy has found a way. I'll grow an airplane plant you can ride to Parna.s.sus, so you can tell the Simurgh. I'm sure the big bird will take it from there. Then you can return to us--"

"The Simurgh doesn't permit others to fly over Parna.s.sus!" Grundy protested.

"It's a risk you'll have to take. Try to give your message the moment she sees you; then it should be all right. She's a pretty smart bird, and remember, she can read your mind. So you can think loudly as you approach: WIGGLE! WIGGLE!" WIGGLE! WIGGLE!"

"Smart bird," Grundy repeated wanly.

Chem chuckled. Smart bird? The Simurgh was the most knowledgeable bird--and creature--of all time!

"You will do it?" Irene demanded, seeing his reluctance.

Grundy grimaced. "Yes. I'll try."

Irene grew the airplane plant. It sprouted stiff wings, an upright tail, and an airscope that sucked in air, heated it, and fired it out the rear, jetting itself forward. The plant wasn't large enough or strong enough to support any normal person, but Grundy was no normal person. He boarded the plane, and it took off with a whoosh of fumes. He was able to guide it by shifting his weight. "WIGGLE! WIGGLE!" he cried.

"Now let's get on to the Cyclops' cave," Irene said to Chem. "We have a good notion of its location. If we hear any wiggles on the way, we can destroy them. And let's hope Grundy rejoins us in time to translate for the Cyclops! We must tell him of the wiggle menace, and ask him where Ivy is. There are no normal enemies during a crisis like this."

Chem galloped. Irene was tense and worried, yet she experienced a certain exhilaration. Whatever threat the wiggle menace was, it certainly wasn't dull!

Chapter 16: Wiggle, Wiggle.

We've got to do something," Ivy said. "We can get stones or rocks and squish the wiggles as we find them," Hugo said. "But I think there are too many for us."

Zzapp!

"Here," Hugo said, conjuring two rockfruits. "Use these to smash it."

Ivy took the fruits, which fitted comfortably in her little hands, and stalked the wiggle. She found it and smashed the rocks together. "Ugh, squish!" she said, wrinkling her nose as she inspected the result.

"It's the only way," Hugo said, conjuring two more fruits for himself. "My dad says you can only really stop wiggles by destroying their nest. But anyone who gets close to it gets holed by the wiggles. He says that's how the Invisible Giant died. He was a big, big man, but the wiggles played eighteen holes in him and he crashed."

"Poor giant," Ivy said sympathetically. "I never saw him."

"No one ever saw him, dummy! He was invisible! So we just have to catch the wiggles as they come."

Zzapp! Zzapp!

"Oops, they're coming faster now," Ivy said.

"They do," Hugo agreed. "And they radiate out in a big circle that gets bigger and bigger. Maybe we better run."

"No!" Ivy said. "We must destroy the nest!"

"But I told you! We can't get close to it."

"We'll figure out how!" she snapped imperatively. She was not aware of it, but at this moment she resembled her mother quite strongly, and not merely for the tint in her hair. "You're smart enough!"

This was of course an unfair a.s.sumption, but Hugo was used to it by now. He concentrated. It was amazing how smart he became when she insisted. "Well, we can't just walk up to it 'cause we'd get holed. Unless Stanley could keep steaming ahead and cook them in a channel--but no, he'd soon run out of water. We don't know how far away that nest is; it could be several hours' travel. Since nothing we know of can shield against the bore of a wiggle, any direct approach is doomed to failure."

Hugo was sounding more intelligent than ever before in his life, except when he served as defender at Hardy Harpy's trial. In fact, at this moment he resembled his father. Even Stanley, who really didn't have much truck with intelligence, sat up and took notice. But Ivy wasn't impressed. She wanted results, not dialogue. "Figure out a way!" she insisted. "You can do it if you really try--I know you can!"

"If we got there," Hugo said, "I suppose Stanley could steam the nest and cook the remaining wiggles. So the only problem is transportation. Now as I understand it, the wiggles radiate out on a plane; that is, they move out in a flat circle, not a sphere. They don't go up or down, just sideways. So it should be possible to approach the nest from above or below. Below is no good, for we can't tunnel through rock, but above--I wonder whether Stanley could fly there?"

Ivy liked this notion, which really was an excellent one, "Stanley, you've got wings!" she exclaimed. "So you can fly, can't you?"

The little dragon spread his wings and flapped them. He raised some dust and caused a gentle breeze, but could not get off the ground.

"Come on, Stanley!" Ivy said encouragingly. "I just know you can do it! Try harder!"

In response, the dragon pumped harder. His wings seemed to become larger and fuller and better webbed. For a moment his body lifted. Then it spun out of control and he plopped to the ground. Ivy's power, it seemed, had finally reached its limit.

"He's not a flying dragon," Hugo pointed out. "Those wings are vestigial. If he flew, he's probably crash and hurt himself."

Ivy considered that. She didn't want Stanley to hurt himself. She was very solicitous about pain. "Then find another way to fly," she told Hugo.

Hugo concentrated again. "I can conjure fruit-flies," he said. In his hand appeared a peach fruit-fly. It had fuzzy pink skin and two green leaves that flapped like wings. He released the peach, and it buzzed up and away.

"Can they carry Stanley?"

"No. They can only carry their own weight." Indeed, the peach was already laboring, for its leaf-wings were wearing out. Obviously it was not a power-flier.

"Then find another way," Ivy said insistently. "You're smart; you can do it. I know you can."

Hugo sighed. Intelligence was a mixed blessing, but he did privately enjoy being considered smart, and now he had become smart enough to realize how her talent worked. He could conjure good fruit because she believed he could. He was becoming handsome because she saw him that way. He was intelligent because she insisted that he be so. She was a little Sorceress; without her, he would once more be nothing. He was in a subtle but compelling manner dependent on her, and he wanted very much to please her. But he knew they could not safely fly to the wiggle nest. Was there some other approach?

He cudgeled his brain, but all it told him was that he had no answer. How could he arrange to accomplish the impossible? This group of three children simply lacked the resources to exterminate the wiggles.

Zzapp!

"I'll get it," Ivy said, grasping her rockfruits. "You keep thinking." She stalked the wiggle.

Zzapp!

There was another! Stanley went after it.

Hugo noted idly that the two wiggles seemed to be traveling on slightly divergent paths. Immediately his heightened intellect reasoned it out. Naturally the paths diverged, for the wiggles were radiating out from a common source. The farther they traveled, the greater their separation from each other became. It was an elementary matter to triangulate and estimate the location of the source, which really was not far from here. He and Ivy and Stanley could reach it readily--if they had any means of keeping from getting holed on the way.

He conjured a bunch of grape fruit-flies and watched them fly. Most of them were smaller than the peach and deep purple; their leaf-wings were much larger in proportion, which made them stronger fliers. A few were the opposite, being larger than the peach and bright yellow, with little leaves; they could not fly well at all. It all depended whether they were grape fruit-flies or grapefruit flies. Their differences in flying ability were a matter of elementary physics, which was the science of magic that Hugo was now beginning to comprehend. But the absolute weight that the small grapes could carry was no larger than that of the peach; by no stretch could the grapes support the weight of the little dragon.

Well, perhaps if Hugo could conjure grapes-of-wrath fruitflies--No! That was definitely unsafe!

Several of the grapes spun dizzily and fluttered to the ground. They did not seem tired, merely confused. Others were unaffected. Why was this?

Hugo conjured a bunch of cherries. These had smaller but firmer leaves, and flapped more vigorously than the loose-leafed grapes, so they were actually stronger fliers. They pursued the grapes--and several of the former spun out of control, in the same place the grapes had.

Ivy returned, her rocks smeared with ick. "We got 'em," she reported with satisfaction.

The gist of a notion flirted with Hugo's consciousness. The fruit-flies--the wiggles--there was some connection, yet he couldn't pin it down. But he was smart enough to ask for the help he needed.

"Ivy, make me smarter yet," he told her. "Make me super-brainy-intelligent."

Ivy, like women of any age, did not properly appreciate the nature of her power. "Of course you're super-brainy-intelligent!" she said. "You're the smartest person in all Xanth. I just know it." And so she believed, now that she thought of it. Nights in Shiny Armor were supersmart, weren't they? And because she was a Sorceress, and had power that only Good Magician Humfrey would have believed--had he not been a baby--what she believed was mostly true. Hugo became almost too smart to be credible.

"The fruit-flies," he said, working it out. "They are being affected by an unseen agency that causes them to lose their orientation without physically damaging them. See, there go some more cherries."

"Cherries!" Ivy exclaimed, alarmed.

"No, these are cherry fruit-flies, not cherry bombs," he clarified. "These fly, they don't explode."