Che would never have thought of it that way, but he was coming to appreciate her zombie viewpoint. Zyzzyva herself was a fine and interesting person who was forever changing his conception of zombies. Naturally she had empathy for other neglected or disparaged creatures. He would have to do something about his flying machine.

"Suppose I name it, and give it a compatible destination? If it is capable of hearing and understanding, then it will know where to go on its own."

"I can enable it to do both," she said. "Toss up my sword."

He had no idea what she wanted with it, but she would need both sword and helmet when she went on. He picked up the helmet. "First this," he said, and tossed it.

She caught it neatly. "Thank you." She put it on, becoming more military. Had he been human, he might have been disappointed.

"And the sword." It was sheathed, so was safe to throw. He did so carefully, and she caught it as neatly. She buckled the sheath belt around her waist, then drew the sword. She put it to the side of her head and cut off her left ear.

"What are you doing?" Che cried, appalled.

"I am cutting off my left ear," she said. "Have no concern; I'll grow another, zombie style. Fasten this one to your machine, so it can hear you speak." She tossed the ear down to him.

He controlled his revulsion and caught it. There was no blood, just a little stickiness at the point of severance. He took it to the machine and set the sticky side against the prow. The ear adhered; indeed, in a moment it seemed as if it had grown there on its own.

"Now that is a zombie machine," Zyzzyva said. "It will hear you and respond to you."

This was weird! But he followed through, rather than embarra.s.s Zyzzyva by openly doubting her. "Flying machine, I name you Rockie, because your animation is from roc feathers and your ear is female. You are a lady craft. Do you understand?"

There was no reaction. That hardly surprised him. "You have to tell her how to respond," Zyzzyva said. "She doesn't know anything yet."

Oh. "If you hear and understand, wiggle a flight feather."

Still nothing, as expected. Machines constructed of ends and odds did not come to life of their own accord. "You must tell it which one," Zyzzyva said. "It will not be very smart at first."

"The front right feather," he clarified.

The right front feather wiggled under its stone.

Che stared, but there was no doubt about it. It was now a living, or at least an animate, flying machine. Zyzzyva had been right all along.

So he continued. "I will use you to fly out of this yard. Then I will leave you, to go about my own business. Do you understand? Wiggle your left front feather if you do."

The left front feather wiggled.

"But I don't want you to feel out of sorts, because you are the only creature of your kind. So I will tell you who else to look for. There is a duck-footed boat named Para who normally plies his trade near the Isle of Women just west of the peninsula of Xanth. He's the only one of his kind too. You should get along. Simply fly over the coast until you see him. He should be glad to see you. If you understand, wiggle your right rear feather."

The right rear feather wiggled.

"One more thing," Che said, as an afterthought. Afterthoughts were almost as good as forethoughts. "Your ear is from a zombie, so if you ever have occasion to do a zombie a favor, please consider it. Zombies can be good folk when you get to know them."

Then he got into the craft and reached out to roll the rocks off the six flight feathers. They immediately vibrated, taking flight, carrying the craft and him with them. In nine-tenths of a moment he was up and out of the yard and flying over the walled garden.

"Wait for me!" Zyzzyva called.

But the flying machine wouldn't or couldn't wait; it was flying vigorously onward. So Che spread his wings and flicked himself, and felt himself getting lighter. He lifted out of the craft, hovered above it for the remaining tenth of a moment, then turned to face Zyzzyva. "You're going east, Rockie," he called. "You want to go west."

The craft turned and flew the other way. Meanwhile Che glided down to land on the top of the wall beside the zombie woman. He saw a lump on the left side of her head; the ear was already re-forming. "Thank you for your help," he said.

"Men need women's help," she said matter-of-factly. "That's why I married Xeth."

Che didn't argue. He lifted her onto his back, as there was not room on the wall for her to get to his side. "You have also educated me about zombies."

"Living folk need that."

He spied a woman waving in the center of the garden. He flew down to join her. "That's Wira, Humfrey's blind daughter-in-law," he murmured. "She's very nice."

"I have heard of her."

"h.e.l.lo, Wira," he called as he landed. "I am here on business, and I brought Zyzzyva Zombie, King Xeth's wife and queen of the zombies."

"On business?" Wira asked. "We a.s.sumed you were a querent."

So that was it. "No, this is an urgent mission to save Xanth from destruction."

"In that case you had better see the Good Magician right away." She faced the zombie, who was dismounting. "h.e.l.lo, Zyzzyva. We have not met before."

"We live apart," Zyzzyva agreed.

Wira stepped into her and embraced her. So much for prejudice; the blind woman had little way of knowing that this zombie was not rotten. "You seem remarkably fit."

"I am. I was killed in battle, and zombied within hours."

They followed Wira into the castle proper. There was room for Che's bulk; the Good Magician's castle always accommodated what it needed to. They made their way up the winding stairway to the Good Magician's dingy office. There was Magician Humfrey, poring over his Book of Answers.

"Che Centaur and Zyzzyva are here on business," Wira said, announcing them.

"I don't know where the Ring of Earth is," Humfrey said grumpily.

So he had known their business! "I understand you are in charge of it," Che said.

"True. But none of the Ring proprietors know where their Rings are. You will have to search for it."

"But doesn't your Book of Answers list everything?" Zyzzyva asked.

"No. The omission is deliberate. If the location were recorded, some nefarious ent.i.ty might snoop and locate it."

Che considered. His zombie guide didn't know exactly where the Ring was, and neither did the Good Magician. But it had to be somewhere in this castle, because otherwise it would be out of Humfrey's control. "May we search for it?"

"Of course. We cleaned up the castle for you. The Designated Wife will help you." Humfrey turned back to his huge tome.

They went back down the stairs to the kitchen, where a cloud of smoke hovered over the stove. "Dana, this is Che Centaur," Wira said politely. "Also Zyzzyva Zombie. Che, this is Dara Demoness, the Good Magician's Designated Wife."

The smoke roiled, then formed into the figure of a lovely dusky woman. "A zombie! This could be interesting."

"Or it could be dull," Zyzzyva said, unimpressed.

"What are you up to?"

"We must locate the Ring of Earth," Che said. "We believe it is somewhere on the premises."

"The Ring of Earth! I haven't heard of that in centuries."

"It has not been used in centuries."

"That explains it. Why do you need it now? It controls all the landbound creatures of Xanth. Are you preparing to invade Mundania?"

"We need it to fetch the Swell Foop."

She puffed into incoherence. "The Swell Foop! That thing is dangerous!"

"So we understand," Che agreed dryly.

"It controls the senior Demons." She coalesced into human female form again. "It has never been invoked in my memory. What possible pretext could there be to use that?"

"The Demon Earth has disappeared. We think he's been abducted. We need to rescue him."

"Rescue him! Good riddance!"

"His magic of gravity is fading. That will affect Xanth."

Dara's floating form abruptly sank to the floor, as if feeling gravity's effect. "I suppose that's true. But the Swell Foop-that's a really scary business."

And demons did not readily scare. "Will you help us search for the Ring of Earth?"

She sighed. "I suppose I have to. But I want you to know that this is not what's normally expected of a Designated Wife."

"Surely not," Che agreed. "We think it must be somewhere in the castle. I fear we shall have to search everywhere."

"Have you any idea how much idle junk is crannied away in obscure nooks?" she demanded rhetorically.

"I fear we are about to find out."

"Indeed we are. Well, let's get to it."

They got to it. They divided the castle into quadrants, and each of them-Dara, Wira, Zyzzyva, and Che-took a quad. This promised to be a horrendous bore.

Che had the rear storeroom. It was jam-packed. Fortunately the jars of jam were dated, and none of them were more than fifty years old, so he didn't have to open them. The first other thing he spied was a rack covered in fur coats. He lifted it-and discovered that it wasn't a dead rack but a live tree. It was growing the coats. It was a fur tree. But there was no Ring with any of the furs.

The next thing was a pot of paint. He picked it up, and it bubbled angrily, spattering hot drops on his hand. It seemed to be in a vile mood. He looked at the label: TEMPERA. That explained why it was so temperamental. But there was no Ring with it.

He found a dried flower. He sniffed it-and suddenly had an urgent call of nature. He galloped to the garden before he exploded.

A cloud appeared before him. "What's up, centaur?"

"You already know, Dara."

The cloud formed into a male figure. "I'm not Dara. I'm her son Dafrey. Humfrey's first son."

Che was surprised. "I took you for a full demon. Aren't you half mortal?"

"I've learned some illusion in the past hundred and fifty years. I can't really become a cloud. What are you doing?"

"I'm searching for the Ring of Earth. I could use some help."

"Sure. That promises to be interesting."

Dafrey accompanied Che back to the storage room. "Do you know what this is?" Che asked, showing him the dried flower.

"That's a begonia. It makes you have to go in a hurry."

"No wonder I had to hurry! I didn't recognize it."

They continued searching, but there was no Ring to be found. They returned to the kitchen to find the others there, similarly frustrated. "We could search for years," Zyzzyva said. "There's just too much junk here."

"This seems hopeless," Che agreed wearily. "It's too well hidden."

"Maybe you just need to think more like a Ring that doesn't want to be found," Dafrey said.

"Think like a Ring?"

"Yes. If you were a Ring, and you wanted to stay hidden forever, where would you hide?"

"Under the Good Magician's dirty socks," Wira said.

They all burst out laughing. Humfrey was notorious for being unable to keep up with his socks. His fourth wife was Sofia Socksorter, a Mundane woman he had married in an effort to get on top of that situation. But when she had eventually grown old and returned to Mundania, the socks had quickly gotten out of hand again. Now she had an afterlife as a sometime wife, but whenever she was off-duty the dirty socks piled up. There were piles that had lain seemingly undisturbed for decades.

Then, almost together, they began to sober. "I wonder," Che said. "Who would ever look under a dirty sock?"

"No one," Zyzzyva said. "Even a zombie would have trouble with the smell."

"I think we had better look," Dara said. "Let's spread out again, this time collecting only socks."

They did so. And in only another hour, Che picked up the last sock in the last crevice of the last chamber in his quadrant, and saw an earth-colored Ring.

Could it be? He picked it up. It seemed to be made of clay, but was well formed. "How can I verify it?" Che asked uncertainly. "It could be a mere incidental trinket."

"Father will know," Dafrey said.

They returned to the kitchen. "I may have found it," Che announced loudly.

In time ranging from two-thirds of a moment to one and a half moments, they were there. "That's it?" Zyzzyva asked, frowning.

"May I touch it?" Wira asked.

Che gave it to her. She tried it on her middle finger, and it fit well. "It's a nice Ring," she said, slipping it off and pa.s.sing it to Dara, who had just popped in.