Anthony, Piers - Xanth 15 - The Colour of her Panties

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THE COLOR OF HER PANTIES
BY PIERS ANTHONY
Synopsis:
Gwenny Goblin is fourteen and since her father has just died she is the
one who must succeed him as Goblin leader. To do this she must join the
adult conspiracy and find out the magic behind summoning the stork and
why ladies must never show the color of their panties to any male.
Gwenny must also go on a journey to find out what is between the rok and
the hard place. A Xanth novel. Another punny journey through magic
lives. Explicit descriptions of the adult conspiracy. Not for those
who freak out in a panty store.
The Color Of Her Panties is an original publication of William Morrow
and Company, Inc., published simultaneously in paperback by Avon Books.
This work is a novel.
Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright C 1992 by Piers Anthony Jacob
Jacket illustration by Daffen K. Sweet
Published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or
by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the Publisher.
Inquiries should be addressed to Pemssions Department, William Morrow
and Company, Inc., 1350 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10019.
It is the policy of William Morrow and Company, Inc., and its imprints
and affiliates, recognizing the importance of preserving what has been
written, to print the books we publish on acid-free paper, and we exert
our best efforts to that end.
ISBN: 0-688-10916-0
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 92-90168
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
ARela Mer-woman swam restlessly around her sea cave garden, brushing the
treelike seaweeds that formed the walls and canopy. Her hair swirled
greenly behind her, and her flukes caused little eddies that toyed with
whatever strands of hair they could catch.
She swooped down near the glowing colored stones of her floor, so that
her breasts almost brushed them. Then she halted at the central
fireplace and stoked up the waterlogs so that her fire blazed more
brightly. "Oh, brimstone! " she swore, severely out of sorts. "I need
a husband! "
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She brought out her mirror and stretched the glass out to full length so
she could see all of herself. It merely reflected what she already
knew: she was a splendiferous creature, with fuller breasts than any
mere mermaid and a flashier tail than any fish could boast. About her
neck she wore a necklace supporting two precious glowing firewater
opals, surely sufficient to attract the best quality husband.
So why wasn't she married? It wasn't as if she were choosy. All she
wanted was the nicest, handsomest, most manly and intelligent unmarried
prince in Xanth, who would be pleased to let her do anything she wanted.
Such as swimming in the salt sea for hours and eating raw fish, and who
would love to brush out her hair for her. Once she had captured Prince
Dolph, but he had been a trifle young at the time, nine years old. She
had traded him off for her opals, and later he had grown up and married
a girl of his own species whose endowments weren't nearly as impressive
as Mela's own. Human men just didn't have much sense.
The problem was that there weren't many males who met her modest
standards, and most of those were already married. She had scoured the
seas and found nothing worth her while. So what was she to do?
She sighed, and the effort sent ripples down through her fabulous flesh.
There was no help for it: she would have to go ask the Good Magician.
That meant doing him a year's service, which would surely be a colossal
bore, but if he landed her a suitable husband it just might be worth it.
No time like the present. Mela gathered together the few useful spells
she had collected during her explorations of the bypaths of the sea and
tucked them into her invisible purse. Then she swam out of her cave and
up toward the surface of the sea. She didn't worry about the fire
spreading during her absence, because fire could not burn under water
without the magic presence of the merfolk. Only if another merwoman or
merman came would it flare up, granted no one would intrude on her
private premises.
Mela's undersea cave was near the Isle of Illusion, by sheerest
coincidence, so she came up in sight of the isle which had once appeared
to be the most illustrious of regions. Her hair yellowed as it broke
the surface. She remembered again how she had captured Prince Dolph
here, despite the objection of his skeletal companioris Marrow Bones and
Grace'l Ossein. They had in the end turned out to be decent folk
despite their gauntness; indeed, they had helped her get her opals. She
wondered how they were doing; they had made a nice if somewh,-it
emaciated couple.
The Isle of Illusion no longer had much illusion, because the Sorceress
of illusion, Queen Emeritus Iris, had long since departed it. But a
faint tinge of great fancies still surrounded it, suggesting the
greatness of past imaginings. Perhaps some day another great
illusionist would inhabit it, and once again no one would know its
rather pedestrian reality.
She swam directly to the shore where the Gap Chasm debouched into the
eastern sea. She came as close to the small beach as she could without
getting out of the water.
Then, when the sand threatened to abrade her satiny skin, she sat up,
her tail folded before her. She concentrated, and her beautiful flukes
became misshapen lumps, while the main portion of her tail turned a
sickly pink. A lengthwise crease appeared, which deepened, until the
entire tail split into two ungainly limbs.
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Mela bent these limbs at their knobby knees and set the bony feet firmly
against the sand. Then she heaved herself up, until she balanced
precariously on those awkward legs, knee-deep in the surf. It had been
a long time since she had gone on land, and it was hardly her notion of
tin, but it was the only way. The Good Magician lived on land, and
would not come to the sea.
Once she was sure of her equilibrium, she waded on out to the dry sand.
Her new legs were getting stronger as she got the hang of them, and her
balance was improving. She did know how to do this; she was merely out
of practice.
But when she walked away from the water, the sand grew hot, burning her
feet, and little sharp stones-tried to cut her soles. Her extremities
might be ugly, but they were also tender. Fortunately she knew where
there was a lady's slipper patch; she had seen it from the water. She
limped to it and picked two slippers. Naturally they fit perfectly, and
they protected her feet so that she could walk in comfort.
She came to the edge of the Gap, where the way turned steep. Now she
had to climb, but she could do that too, and clambered up across the
rocks and slopes without much trouble. She knew that she had to get out
of the chasm immediately, for two reasons. First, the sides became
considerably steeper farther in-everyone knew that!-and second, there
was the Gap Dragon. Only a few folk knew that, because most of those
who had encountered the dragon had been eaten. There had been a Forget
Spell on the chasm for a long time, but now it was gone and so it was
possible to know things about the Gap. That was just as well, because
she would not have wanted to try to run from the dragon on her wobbly
legs. She wondered how the land folk ever endured such an ungainly mode
of travel.
She came to the brink and climbed over. Now the land was reasonably
level, and she could walk upright. She understood that the Good
Magician's castle was slightly south of the Gap, so she walked generally
westward. There were supposed to be enchanted paths, and once she found
one of those she would be able to proceed to the castle without having
to worry about stray monsters.
Unfortunately she was still in the wilderness. "Ho!"
someone shouted to the side. "A nymph! Hit her!"
Mela looked, alarmed. She was no nymph, for they were mostly brainless
creatures who kept company with sinlarly brainless fauns. For some
reason human men seemed to like nymphs, while lacking interest in the
fauns. She saw that the shouter was a man the size of an elf, standing
hardly taller than her knees. His hands were relatively huge. She
didn't have to worry about him.
Then about six more like him appeared. "Hit her! Hit her!" they cried,
charging toward her in a messy mass.
Now she recognized their nature: these were hit men!
Their hands were huge because they used them to make tremendous fists,
the better to hit innocent folk. They were erupting from a blackjack
bush, which was a plant that liked to be hit. It was always exclaiming
"Hit me!" and "Hit me again! " though its leaves were so thin and flat
that they could hardly stand up long to such abuse. Maybe that was why
they had all those little red and black marks on them in the shapes of
things like spades and hearts and clubs. But hitmen were notorious for
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making hits on anything that came within reach, and a luscious bare
female like herself was a prime target. They certainly wanted to hit on
her.
Mela quickly took stock. She was too far from the sea to reach it
before the obnoxious little men caught up with her. Maybe in time her
clumsy legs would be able to carry her swiftly, but she was still
concentrating on things like balance and locomotion. If she tried to
run fast, she would fall on her face, and they would swarm all over her.
Could her magic stop them? She had a spell to splash water into the
eyes of a person, but that only worked on one person at a time, and she
doubted it would discourage even a single one of these hit men for long.
She had a small waterlog, but that would burn only in water. There was
her mirror, but that had very limited power. Not much hope there.
However she also had a little magic manual that was supposed to list
many of the useful things of Xanth, as well as the things best avoided.
She snatched it out of her purse and checked quickly through it. She
saw pictures of various creatures and plants, including the hit men and
blackjack bush. "Well, I already knew about those!" she snapped. "How
about something that will help me that's close by?"
The manual showed a picture of a mitten bush, with neat little white
mittens. A mitten bush? Mela rolled her eyes. She was no kitten, and
she needed no mitten.
Then she spied a mitten bush close by. Well, that might not be what she
wanted, but she would have to make do with it. She hurried to it, not
quite managing to lose her balance in her haste. The hit men were now
almost upon her, their big ugly hands forming into bigger uglier fists.
She dodged around the bush. The hit men piled into it-and its mittens
expanded to swallow their fists. In a moment the hit men were all
caught by their hands, unable to get them from the tight mittens. They
cursed, swore, and obscened, turning the air bilious blue, which was an
unusual effect. Bilious green or yellow were the normal hues. But even
with the blue they couldn't get free, because the mittens were firmly
tied to the bush.
Mela went blithely onward. Sometimes all it took was a little luck and
the common sense to use it. Plus a little help from a manual. This
was, after all, the Land of Xanth, where almost everything was magic,
and the rest was probably lying about it. The land was more dangerous
than the sea, because she was used to the sea, but she could manage.
In due course she came to a river. This was wonderful; it gave her a
chance to wet her tail. She waded in-and right out again. It was fresh
water! What a horrible sensation. She would have to make do on dry
legs until she could return to the sea.
Rather than touch the bad water again, she walked upstream. It stood to
reason that if she went far enough, the river would give up and fade
out, and then she could proceed without touching it.
Soon she encountered an odd little creature. It had pinkish hairy skin
and a squared-off snout, which it used to nose around in the ground. She
brought out her manual again and sifted through the pages until she
found a picture and managed to recognize the thing: it was a pig. The
description was reassuring: they were harmless if not bothered. So she
ignored it and walked on.
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She came across another pig, and a third. In fact there was half a slew
of pigs along the bank. It was a piggy bank!
She moved away from the bank and found a path. This expanded as if glad
of her attention to it, and became l paved road. She knew that some
paths were treacherous, because they led to dragon lairs or tangle
trees, but this was not that type. It was a straight road that liked to
b(, used, and she was happy to oblige it. It would enable her to get
farther faster, with less wear on her tender extremities.
Suddenly there was a huge honking, and a tremendous,;
pig came charging down the road. Mela had to leap into the brush to
avoid it. She got no thanks. "Outta my way, nymph!" the huge pig
grunted as it passed.
Mela did not like being called a nymph, when anyone could see she was a
merwoman on legs. "Hey, do you think you own this road?" she demanded
angrily.
The pig halted, and turned its porcine snout to look at her. "As a
matter of fact, I do," it said.
"What kind of creature are you?"
"I'm a road hog, of course. Now stay out of my way."
It resumed motion, and in a moment was out of sight.
A road hog. That figured. When the piggies of the bank grew large and
arrogant, naturally they became hogs. She should have checked another
page in the manual and found it before it found her.
Mela shrugged and tried to get back on the road. She discovered that
she was stuck in the foliage of the most ugly and useless tree she had
encountered. Its leaves were misshapen, its bark was falling off, and
its fruit was rotten. It just seemed to have grown all wrong. It was a
good thing she wore, no clothing, because the erratic thorns would have
caught in it. As it was, she was smarting from two mentionable places
and one unmentionable place.
She extricated herself, and brought out the manual.
There it was: a lemon tree. Anyone who got one of these was supposed to
get rid of it in a hurry, because it was no good. She had already
caught on to that fact.
This was wearing. Did she really need a husband? But Mela decided that
there was almost as little point in turning back now as there was in
moving on forward. She might as well plow on and see what the Good
Magician had to say.
The road wound on through the forest, passing some nice pie trees. Mela
paused to have some watermelon pie.
Farther along she found water chestnuts and watercress.
That was the best that offered, as the land did not seem to have seaweed
soup or sea cucumbers. She could tell by the taste that fresh water had
been used, but that was all right for food. It was swimming and bathing
that required salt water.
However, time was sneaking by, and the shadows were taking advantage of
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it to grow longer. Mela was intrigued by this phenomenon, because there
were not many shadows on the sea floor, but she realized that this was a
magic signal that night was approaching. She did not feel at ease
traveling in the dark, and anyway, her new legs were tired.
She needed a safe, comfortable place to sleep. Now where would that be?
She checked the manual. It showed a picture of a beerbarrel tree. Mela
wasn't sure about that; she didn't like the notion of swimming in beer
much better than that of swimming in water. Then she realized that it
was a dead, hollow beerbarrel tree it meant. So she looked around as
she walked, and sure enough, in due course she found one.
She went to the tree and examined it. She found a creyice that led to a
crack that led to a fissure that became the square outline of a door.
This was the place!
She felt along the edge until she found a latch. She worked it, and the
door opened. There inside was a dark abode girl about by fluffy
pillows. Not as appealing as ,,,alt water, but ideal in terms of
roughing it on the land.
Mela entered and closed the door behind her. Immediately a soft light
glowed from colored fungus. It didn't compare to that of deep-sea
plants and creatures, but it did give her a feeling of the depths, and
that was very nice. Whatever male she married would have to love the
sea, because she was a creature of the sea, inside as well as outside.
She lay blissfully on the bed of pillows.
"Mmmmph, mmmph mph mmmmmmmph!"
Mela jumped. What was that?
"MmmmmMmmmmph!" The muffled sound came as she landed from her jump,
squishing the pillows flat.
She scrambled to her tired feet. "What is going on here?" she demanded
of the situation in general.
The center pillow formed a mouth and opened it. "A
better question is what is coming off here! How dare you plop your
fishy backside in my Eskimo!"
"In your what?" Mela asked, bemused.
"My inuit, Aleut, Finn, Sami-"
"Lapp?" Mela inquired.
"Whatever. Can't a creature get a decent nap without getting squished
by an ugly sea monster?"
Mela began to take umbrage. "Um-I am considered by some to be a rather
attractive sea monster."
The mouth grimaced. "By whom, fish-head? A hungry kraken weed?"
Mela finished her taking umbrage. "Brage! " she swore.
"You don't exactly have much sex appeal yourself, cushion-face! "
The pillow exploded. The mouth flew up and hovered before Mela's nose,
while feathers swirled around it. "I have all the sex appeal I want,
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seaweed-hair! " it exclaimed.
Mela realized belatedly that magic was operating here.
"You are not what you seem," she charged with a certain justice.
The feathers closed in around the mouth, forming the shape of a head. "I
am whatever I choose to be, man!"
rear.
That was a low blow. No one had ever before mistaken Mela's posterior
for male. "And what kind of rear do you have, pillow-cheeks?" she
demanded.
The feathers shaped themselves into a human outline and faded into flesh
tone. Now a voluptuous woman stood there. "This kind of rear,
gills-for-brains! " she said, turning to show a set of buttocks almost
as generous as Mela's own.
"You're a demoness! " Mela said, catching on. However, the creature
moved away so that Mela could not keep her catch.
"The Demoness Metria, of course. And who in conniption are you?"
"I am Melantha Merwoman."
"What are you doing out of your ingredient?"
"My what?"
"Your component, aspect, fragment, division, portion, segment-"
"Oh, you mean my element! The sea."
"Whatever. Why are you here on land?"
"I am in quest of a husband. I can't find what I want in the sea."
Metria gazed at her appraisingly. "Considering what men are interested
in, it seems that you should be able to nab one. What kind are you
looking for?"
"A prince would do, if he's handsome and manageable.
I caught one once, but he was too young and I had to throw him back."
"Oh? Which one was that?"
"Prince Dolph of the human folk. He was nine years old, but would have
grown in time."
"Prince Dolph! I know him. He's seventeen now, and married."
"I know," Mela said sadly. "I heard she wasn't even a princess."
"She is now. And a mother, too. The stork brought them twin girls,
Dawn and Eve."
"Oh, those should have been my girls!" Mela cried. "I should never have
let him get away."
"Well, you're mortal. You make mistakes."
"So now I am going to see the Good Magician to find out how to nab some
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other prince," Mela concluded. "I'm sorry if I intruded on your domain.
I thought it was available.
"Oh, go ahead and use it," Metria said. "I took it from Esk Ogre some
years back, and the truth is, things were more interesting when he was
around.
"Things always are, when a male's around."
"How true! But now he's gone and married a brassie girl from the gourd
named Bria, and they have a son named Brusque."
"Everybody's getting married!" Mela said petulantly.
"But the son of an ogre and a brassie-does he have a talent? "
"Yes. He can make himself or other things hard and heavy, or light and
soft. That should be handy, when he is grown."
Mela nodded knowingly. "Surely so. But it doesn't solve MY problem. I
need a prince."
"Why not a regular man?" the demoness asked. "There are more of them."
"Well, after almost nabbing a prince, I fear it would feel like
backsliding to settle for an ordinary man."
"I suppose so. My friend Dana Demoness married a king. Now she won't
settle for anything less."
"Oh? What king?"
"King Humfrey."
"I didn't know there was a King Humfrey! Is he any relation to the Good
Magician Humfrey?"
"The same."
"But Humfrey's no king! He's the Magician of Information."
"He's no king now. But he was then. She got bored and left him, but
after a century or so she got bored being single, so she returned to
him, and is married to him today. I I "But I thought he was married to
the Gorgon."
"He is. It gets complicated to explain."
"It must! " But Mela was too tired at the moment for complexity. "Is
it all right if I sleep on the other pillows? "
"Be my guest," Metria said grandly, fading away.
In the morning Mela left the cozy den and searched out some fruits and
nuts. She needed to do something else, but wasn't sure how to manage it
cleanly while wearing the clumsy legs; she wished she could return to
the sea for a while or even an (ugh!) freshwater pond, and not just for
that. The land was just such an awkward place!
The Demoness Metria appeared, in her human form, standing in the air.
"Must you go so soon?" she inquired.
" I thought you wanted to be rid of me."
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"I do. I was being facetious."
"That's more like it." Mela had relatively few illusions about demons,
having encountered them on occasion.
"You look squirmy."
"I would ask you whether there is water near, but you would only
misdirect me."
"No, I would answer truly, because then you wouldn't believe me and
would go the wrong way." The demoness evidently understood why Mela
wanted water, so was teasing her, demon fashion.
"Never mind. I'll do it in the den." Mela headed for the beerbarrel
tree.
"Oh no you don't! Go to that purpose bush over there."
Mela's left arm stretched out and her hand assumed the form of an arrow.
"What kind of bush?"
"Aim, design, province, sphere, object, what it's made for-"
"Function?"
"Whatever," Metria agreed crossly.
"What's a function bush?"
"Just go there and see. It's really quite natural."
Mela knew that this was mischief, but it was better to humor the
demoness, whose mischief was surely not as bad as her anger. She walked
to the bush, which had the smell of manure. Then suddenly she folded
over and accomplished her business despite her clumsy form.
A function bush: now she understood its name. It had its own way of
collecting fertilizer.
Mela straightened up and walked away from it. "Thank you, Metria," she
said. For the demoness had after all facilitated the necessary chore.
"You're not mad?" Metria inquired, disappointed.
"Furious." There was an art to managing demons.
"You're not going to throw any of it at me?"
"That wouldn't be ladylike."
"It would just loop around and splat on you."
"That, too."
"You're just trying to be dull, so I'll lose interest and stop pestering
you."
"Demons are getting smarter all the time."
"Well, it won't work! I'll just tag along and see you mess up some
other way."
"Suit yourself."
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"Confound it! I can't tell whether you even want to get rid of me!
Maybe you prefer to have my company."
"I would prefer it even more if you were a male prince demon. Perhaps
you can get one to come and pester me in lieu of you. Males can be such
brutes."
"That does it! I am going to stay and be perfectly nice to you! What
do you think of that?"
Mela sighed. "You are very sophisticated in your pestering." The truth
was that she didn't really care whether the demoness remained or
departed; she just wanted to keep her on good behavior.
They walked generally west, but the freshwater river threatened to
return, with its pigs and things, so they veered south. The land became
hilly, so they veered some more to move along a contour. The demoness
was now walking on the ground, so that she seemed just like another
mortal creature. She was even solid, now; Mela could tell, because she
left footprints.
Then she heard a faint booming sound. "What's that?"
"A pronoun used to indicate a person, place, thing, idea, or state of
being. I keep confusing it with which."
"I don't mean the word! I mean that sound."
"What sound?"
Mela saw that the demoness was still teasing her. She surely heard the
booming and know all about it, but wouldn't tell. So Mela shut up and
walked on.
The booms became louder. Finally she came to a series of small hills
shaped like little mountains. At the top of each hill was a human baby.
Every so often each baby opened its mouth and let out a surprisingly
loud boom.
"Why, they're baby boomers," Mela said, surprised.
"There certainly are a lot of them!"
"They will be something when they grow up," Metria remarked. "They'll
be big boom-booms."
"But what's the point?"
"There is no point. They're just there. They strayed from Mundania,
where there are even more of them."
Mela shook her head. " Mundania is a strange place!"
"That is true. Even the Mundanes don't understand it.
That is why they come to Xanth whenever they can. Fortunately most of
them don't know the way, any more than you know the way to the Good
Magician's castle."
"But if I asked you, you would merely direct me wrong.
Or right, if I didn't believe you."
file:///F|/rah/Piers%20Anthony/Anthony,%20Pier...015%20-%20The%20Color%20of%20Her%20Panties.txt (10 of 231) [1/19/03 8:58:03 PM]
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file:///F|/rah/Piers%20Anthony/Anthony,%20Piers%20-%20Xanth%2015%20-%20The%20Color%20of%20Her%20Panties.txtTHECOLOROFHERPANTIESBYPIERSANTHONYSynopsis:GwennyGoblinisfourteenandsinceherfatherhasjustdiedsheistheonewhomustsucceedhimasGoblinleader.Todothisshemustjointheadultconspiracyandfindoutthemagic...

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