Fortunately she was present and alert when their daughter arrived, and after that she had little time for anything else. Roy did her best to live up to her masculine nickname from the start-Rose wondered in those harried moments she could squeeze in for thinking whether they would have been better advised to choose another name-and constantly made the stones of the floor and bricks of the fireplaces come to life and squirm vigorously. Fortunately they remained animate only while the baby focused on them, and Roy's attention span was brief. But it was hectic.

Humfrey's tome of Answers and Roy grew apace. Then, somehow, it seemed, in a few days Roy was grown into pretty childhood, and thence to girlhood, and thence to maidenhood, and suddenly she was marrying the son of a local forester named Stone, becoming Rosetta Stone, and moving away to start her own family. "But she's just a child!" Rose wailed through her tears of joy at her daughter's fortune. Stone was good at interpreting things and making sense of them, and that was bound to help their marriage.

"She's twenty-one," Humfrey pointed out gruffly. "Older than your physical age when you married me. That's old enough."

"But yesterday she was eleven!" Rose cried.

"And only one, the day before," he agreed. "Where's my soup?"

Rose might have been tempted to make a remark about insensitivity had she been less good-natured, but she was too princessly to deign. She fetched him his soup. She would not of course admit it, but he had grown twenty years older and grumpier in the past two decades, and looked more like a gnome than ever. It was a good thing she loved him.

But that was the thing about love in Xanth. When it was true, it was forever. In drear Mundania, she understood, love lasted only for a few years, and then marriages started breaking up. Humfrey had almost loved Mare Ann, and that feeling had remained until he did love Rose. He had not loved Dana Demoness or Maiden Taiwan, though he had treated them courteously. It had been his misfortune to lack true love in his early life, but once they had found it together, they would keep it as long as they both should live.

That was good, because things were very quiet now with Roy gone. Rosetta and Stone had discovered that they could animate stones and make them tell what they knew, interpreting their confusing remarks, and sometimes they knew interesting or useful things. But that was there; things were dull here. Rose took a more active interest in her husband's work, and in the next six years his great Book of Answers progressed rapidly. Humfrey was excellent at discovering things, but not at cla.s.sifying them or putting them in proper order. He couldn't even find his socks without help! Rose did that organizing of facts and cross-referenced them, so that it was possible to locate almost anything in the voluminous collection.

Little did she know that this would lead to considerable mischief. She had a.s.sumed that if she minded her own business and helped her husband loyally and was courteous to others, everything would be all right. It had never occurred to her that she could be the victim of outright deception and malice. That naivete was to cost her dearly.

It started innocently enough. Humfrey was cataloging seesh.e.l.ls, so she was gathering more of them while he was doing the paperwork. She would return later and properly index and cross-reference his notes, but he had to do the actual definitions. Peggy, the flying horse, had returned after a snit when Humfrey first got married and used the magic carpet; Rose had explained about things, and Peggy decided to forgive the transgression. Then Humfrey had used the carpet again, and the horse had got her feathers in an uproar. By the time Rose smoothed those feathers down, Peggy decided that she would give Rose rides instead of the fickle Magician. The two had been friends ever since. Humfrey, a typical man, had never noticed.

So today Peggy carried Rose to the Gold Coast of southeastern Xanth, where the sands and many of the plants were golden. It had been some time since Rose had been here. She had visited the region once as a child and played in the sand, and had retained a certain taste-for the pretty stuff. Now she was dismayed to see a new development: there was a tower being built from ivory just offsh.o.r.e. Apparently it was to be a light house, and white ivory was lighter than gold. Rose would have preferred to leave the sh.o.r.e pristine, but realized that she could not stand in the way of progress. Perhaps if she ignored it, it would go away.

She told Peggy to go and graze where she wished, and the horse walked into the jungle, looking for tasty leaves and gra.s.s. Rose walked along the sh.o.r.e, picking up new varieties of gold seesh.e.l.ls. Their eyes were bright orange yellow, and some were very pretty. Humfrey didn't care much about that; to him an ugly sh.e.l.l was as good as a pretty one. But Rose preferred beauty without actually disparaging other conditions. It wasn't as if she would be beautiful forever; she was now forty-eight years old, in away-from-Castle-Roogna time. She had worked to keep her body in reasonable shape, and she still brushed out her hair each day to keep it luxurious, but on occasion a mirror was unkind enough to show a wrinkle. Rose had lost her taste for mirrors, coincidentally, and no longer carried one with her.

She came to a village of fishmen and fishwives. They had the heads of fish and human legs. Their village was in the water, but they came ash.o.r.e to forage for food. Rose saw them using their upper fins to hold long poles from which descended lines, and on the ends of the lines were hooks which snagged on things of the beach. Sometimes small animals bit at the bits of candy around the hooks, and the hooks caught in their mouths, and the fishmen hauled them in by the lines and poles until they were dragged down into the water. It seemed like a cruel way to make a living to Rose, but she was cautious about criticizing the ways of other folk.

Then she saw a decrepit old woman hobbling along. The fishmen goggled at her and retreated into the water, evidently detesting her company. This disturbed Rose, who never liked to see any person excluded from things. She went to the woman, who was hunched over, carrying a heavy bag. "May I help you?" Rose inquired.

The woman gazed up at her. Her aspect was even more frightful from close up, and she smelled of something other than roses. Her clothing consisted of whatever rags and tatters she had picked up from trash heaps. "Well yes, lady," she wheezed. "If you would carry my heavy burden to my home, that would help me a lot."

"I shall be glad to," Rose said. She took the bag, which she was surprised to discover was filled with ivory horns and tusks. The woman evidently collected ivory! "If I may inquire, what is your name? My name is Rose."

The beady eyes flicked at her. "My given name is Peril, but the fishfaces call me the Sea Hag."

Rose was properly appalled. "How unkind of them! I shall certainly call you Pearl."

"That's Peril, rose-hips!" the woman corrected her snappishly. Perhaps Rose might have had a hint about her nature then, had she not been so trusting.

Rose apologized for her error. It was very embarra.s.sing to get a person's name wrong, for names were important indications to character. Everyone knew that.

The old woman set off at a brisk hobble, and Rose was constrained to keep abreast of her, because the odor behind her was barely to be endured. They proceeded downbeach to a spot directly opposite the half-completed ivory tower. "Oh, they have ruined my house again!" she exclaimed, her voice suggestive of a harpy's screech.

Rose saw a pile of driftwood, flotsam, jetsam, and seeweed. It was hard to imagine that this could ever have been a house. But of course it would be impolite to question the word of her companion. "Do you have any other place to stay?"

"There is one the fishfaces can't reach," Peril said. She hobbled to the edge of the forest. There was a huge dead tree trunk, rising above the height of Rose's head. Peril scrambled up it, remarkably agile for one in her condition, and squeezed into a hole in it. She disappeared inside the trunk. Then her face reappeared. "Well, come on, stupid!" she screeched imperiously.

Rose struggled to climb the trunk with the heavy bag of ivory. She was not good at this, because princesses were not supposed to climb trees, but somehow she managed. She wedged into the hole and hauled the bag after her.

She found herself squeezing down inside the tree, the bag pressing her down from above. Her nice dress was getting severely mussed. Then her feet lost purchase entirely, and she fell, screaming in an embarra.s.singly unladylike fashion.

She splashed into water. The bag splashed beside her. She flailed, and in a moment her feet found a sloping rock. She scrambled up it, out of the water. She was in absolute darkness.

Her first thought was for the old woman. "Peril!" she cried. "Are you all right?"

She was answered by a resounding cackle. "I'm horrible, but I will be much better soon," the voice of the hag came from above.

"Soon?" Rose asked, bewildered.

"Soon as I kill myself."

"I don't understand!"

There was another awful cackle. "Who cares! Rest easy, fool, until I come for you." Then the voice faded.

Rose looked up. Far above she saw a disk of light. It blinked out for a moment, then reappeared. She realized that it was the hole in the tree trunk. Peril had climbed back up and squeezed out of it, and was gone.

Rose realized that she was in trouble. It seemed to be a most unkind notion, and one she hesitated to entertain, but it almost seemed that the old woman had intended to trap her in here. There was no way she could climb up inside that trunk and escape; there was no purchase for her hands, and in any event she lacked the strength for such an effort. She was trapped in this awful dark pit.

She knew what to do: she had to call Humfrey, who would immediately come on the carpet and rescue her. Except that she no longer carried her magic mirror. What a problem her foolish vanity had made for her!

She heard a neigh. Peggy! The winged horse had found her! "Peggy!" she cried. "Get me out of here!" But even as she called, she knew it was impossible. The horse could not get in here and could not do anything to help from outside. So she did the next best thing. "Peggy, go fetch Humfrey! Bring him here! Quickly!"

The horse neighed acknowledgment. Rose heard the beat of her great wings. She would fly to wherever Humfrey was and alert him to Rose's problem. He could then use a mirror of his own and investigate, and he would take care of it immediately.

Then she remembered that she hadn't told Peggy where Humfrey was. He was checking references in the Castle Roogna library and would not be back until evening. Peggy would not be able to find him until then, for she could not go to Castle Roogna because of the aversion spell. Rose was stuck here for the full day.

She hunched herself with her back to the edge of this cave. There seemed to be just the pool and the sloping edge and the wall. The water was brine, so must connect to the sea, but Rose could not escape that way either. She was not that good a swimmer, and for all she knew it was too far for her to hold her breath. This place was some distance in from the sh.o.r.e, and any tunnel would have to connect under the surface of the sea. At least she had not been hurt in the fall; how lucky that there had been water there!

She thought about Peril. Now she realized the significance of the name. The woman was a peril to anyone who tried to befriend her! No wonder the fishfolk didn't like her. But why had she sought to snare Rose here? What could she gain by doing this to one who meant her no harm?

Rose remembered the Sea Hag's (for it seemed now that the name the fishfolk used for her was apt) parting words: she was horrible, but would be much better as soon as she killed herself. Whatever could that mean? Was the woman deranged? Why would anyone want to kill herself, and how would that make her feel better? Why would she want to trap another woman just before then?

There was a sob. Rose thought it was her own, then realized that it wasn't. It had come from across the pool. There must be another ledge there.

"Who is there?" she called.

"Me," a voice replied.

That was not phenomenally helpful. She realized that the other person could be young, and therefore thoughtless. "Please tell me your name."

"Dread," the answer came.

"Dred? Are you a boy?"

"Dread Redhead, because I have red hair and I dread the darkness. I'm a ten-year-old boy."

Rose was much relieved to discover that she had company, yet horrified to learn that another person was similarly trapped. "Did Peril lure you in here too?" she asked.

"Sure she did," the boy replied. "Yesterday. But now she's got you, I guess she'll just let me die."

"What does she want with me?" Rose asked.

""You mean you don't know?"

"I have no idea. I was only trying to help her carry her bag of ivory, and she led me here and left me. She said something peculiar as she left."

"You sure don't know!" Dread said. "Well, let me tell you: the Sea Hag is a Sorceress who lives forever, because every time her body gets old, she kills it and her spirit takes over another body. Usually she takes a young woman, but if she can't find one, she'll take a boy. That's why she trapped me. But she'd rather have a woman, even an older one like you; that gives her a few more years to find a young one. So now she's got you, and in an hour or two she'll take it."

Rose was appalled. "But I don't want my body to be taken! How can she do that?"

"She traps a woman so she can't flee, and then her spirit just comes in. That's her magic. You can't stop her. You have to get far away, so her spirit can't catch you. That's the only way to escape."

Rose realized that she was in twice as much trouble as she had thought. But rather than dwell on that awfulness, she focused on the boy. "What is your talent?" she asked, hoping that it was something that could help them.

"I pipe open doors. Even when there aren't doors."

"You mean you can make doors to places that don't have them?"

"Sure. With my hornpipe. It's fun, usually. I can get in or out of anything."

"But then why didn't you open a door out of here?"

"Because my doors open on the level, not up or down, and there's no light down here."

"No light? Why should that stop you?"

"I'm afraid of the dark."

"But it's already dark here!"

"Yes, and that terrifies me. But there's a spot of light from the hole in the tree, and I can watch that. But if I opened a door, it would be to an underground tunnel, and it would be dark. I can't leave the light!"

Rose began to get an idea. "Many children are afraid of the dark. But only when they are alone. They are never afraid when they are with their mothers."

"My mother isn't here," he pointed out with a certain accuracy.

"But I'm here! And I'm old enough to be your mother. I am a mother of another child. If I went with you, you wouldn't have to be afraid, no matter how dark it is."

"Say, maybe so," he said.

Her heart beat faster. He was accepting her logic! "Can you open a door in your wall?"

"Sure. Come over here and I'll do it."

Rose did not waste time. She slid into the water and swam across. She found a similar sloping ledge on the other side and climbed out. "Do it," she said breathlessly.

Music sounded. How lucky that Dread had his hornpipe with him! There was a creaking, as of a door opening.

Rose felt in the darkness. Sure enough, there was a door, with a dark pa.s.sage beyond. "Come on!" she said. "Maybe this tunnel intersects a cave, and we can follow it to the surface where it's light." The tunnel was heading directly away from the sea, but that was fine; that was also away from the Sea Hag.

"You first," Dread said.

She didn't argue. She knew he would follow, rather than be left alone. She felt her way into the tunnel, proceeding on hands and knees. She heard the scuffle of the redheaded boy following.

The tunnel went straight ahead, on the level. She was afraid it went nowhere, but then it came to a faintly glowing underground stream. Her eyes had become adjusted to the gloom, and now this faint light was quite bright enough to see the path of the river.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. The rock surrounding it was crystalline, and each small stone at the bottom was a rough-cut gem, and above it hung stalact.i.tes of glossy sardonyx. Now there was sound, too: the stream sang as it wended its way through and around these crystals. At the bottom of the stream small plants were growing, and these plants produced tiny fruits, and there were fish eating the fruits.

But they could not linger to enjoy the scene. "We must move on," Rose said. "There seems to be no way out from here. Open another door."

Dread raised his pipe to his mouth and played. A new door opened in the wall. They entered the new tunnel, leaving the lovely river behind. This tunnel was tall enough for them to walk upright, which was a relief, but soon it narrowed so that they had to go single file. The darkness became complete again; Rose could not see anything in front of her. She had to stop, yielding to the primitive fear of banging her face into something disfiguring.

Now the boy squeezed ahead of her and began cursing. His curses lit up the dark and dim pockets of the cave. Rose, about to object to such language, realized that it was better to stifle her ladylike sensibility for the nonce; they needed this bit of light. Yet how was it that the boy had not thought to do this before and so escape before she arrived?

"We're almost there," Dread said confidently.

"Almost where?" Rose asked. But before she could inquire further, she heard a screech echoing down the tunnel. The Sea Hag!

As one, they charged down the tunnel. Now there was a glow from another wall. Dread whipped out his hornpipe and played another brief melody, and another door opened.

But if the Sea Hag had killed herself so that her spirit was coming after them, how could there be a screech? That was the Hag's living voice!

"Hurry!" the boy cried urgently, taking her arm. He jumped through the door, hauling her after him.

They were on a water slide. It carried them down and around through more darkness. Then they landed in some kind of-well, it felt like a basket. A huge wicker basket, with a high arching handle. It was swinging from a rope tied to that handle. As they landed in it, it started moving, swinging down into yet further deep depths.

"What is this?" Rose cried, alarmed. "Where are we going?"

"This is a handbasket," the boy replied. "We are going to h.e.l.l."

"Please don't swear anymore," she reproved him. "It offends my matronly sensibilities. Where are we really going?"

"To h.e.l.l," he repeated. "I am a demon from there. It is a dull place, so we decided we needed some pretty flowers, but they won't grow. Your talent is making roses grow, and they are nice flowers, so we are bringing you there."

Rose was upset and bewildered. "But the Sea Hag! What about her?"

"Oh, she was going to take your body, all right. That's why we had to act quickly. Some talents go with the souls, and some with the bodies. Yours goes with your body, so your soul would have been no good to us, and anyway, it is far too good for us. So we had to have your body, and get it before the Sea Hag did. We had only a few hours before she killed herself and came for you."

"But it took only minutes to flee her cave!"

"Yes, we couldn't let you stop to think too long, or you might have found a way to escape. But now you are in the handbasket to h.e.l.l, and we have you."

She stared at him in the growing light of the flames that were appearing outside the basket. "You're no more an innocent boy than the Sea Hag is an innocent woman! You were out to trap me too!"

"And succeeded," he agreed, well satisfied.

She peered down over the side of the big basket. There was nothing but licking flames and roiling smoke there. She could not escape.

Rose sighed. This was just not a good day!