"We all have our off days," Smash said apologetically.
Tandy and the Siren arrived. "He's a gentle ogre," the Siren explained. "He helps the helpless." She introduced the three of them.
"I'm John," the fairy said. Then, before they could react, she continued. "I know, I know it's not a proper name for the like of me, but my father was away when I was born, and the message got garbled, and I was stuck with it. So now I'm on a quest for my proper name. But I got tossed by a gust and hurt my wing, and then the ghastlies-"
"Why don't you travel with us?" Tandy asked. "Until your wing gets better. Monsters don't bother us much. We have one of our own." She gripped Smash's dangling hamhand possessively.
John considered, evidently uncertain about traveling with a monster. Then the ball of ghastlies began working loose, and she decided. "Yes, I will go with you. It should take only a day or so for my wing to mend."
Smash did not comment. He had not asked for any companions, but Tandy had been forced on him, and she had a propensity for inviting others. Perhaps it was because Xanth was so new to her that she felt the company of others who were more familiar with it would improve things. Maybe she was right; the Siren had certainly helped them get out of the gourd. It didn't really matter; Smash could travel with three as well as with one.
Now night came. Smash foraged for food and found a patch of spaghetti just ripening near a spice tree.
He harvested several great handfuls, shook the spice on them, and proffered this for their repast. The girls seemed a trifle doubtful at first, but all were hungry, and soon they were consuming the delicious, slippery stuff, ogre-style, by the handful and slurpful. Then they found a basket palm with enough stout hanging baskets for all, and spent a reasonably comfortable night.
But before they slept, the Siren questioned John about the kind of name she was looking for. "Why don't you just take any name you like and use it?"
"Oh, I couldn't," John said. "I can answer only to the name I was given. Since I was given the wrong one, I must keep it until I recover the right one."
"How can you be sure there is a right one? If your father was misinformed-"
"Oh, no, he knew who I was. He sent back a good name, but somehow it got lost, and the wrong name arrived instead. By the time he got home, it was too late to fix it."
Smash understood the Siren's perplexity. He, like her, had not been aware that names were so intricately tagged.
"Does that mean that someone else got your name?" the Siren asked.
"Of course. Some male fairy got my name, and must be as unhappy with it as I am with his. But if I find him, we can exchange them. Then everything will be just fine."
"I see," the Siren said. "I hope you find him soon."
In the morning they breakfasted on honeydew that had formed on the leaves of the basket tree, then resumed the trek north. John buzzed her healing wing every so often, and the pattern on it seemed to come alive in a three-dimensional image, like flowers blooming, but she could not yet fly. She had to be content to walk. She was a cheery little thing, good company, and full of cute anecdotes about life among the fairies. It seemed the Fairy Kingdom was a large one, with many principalities and interstate
commerce between groups, and internecine trade wars.
They started to climb. None of them was familiar with this section of Xanth, which was east of the Region of Madness, so they merely proceeded directly north. With luck, it wouldn't be too bad.
But it was bad. The mountain became so steep it was impossible to climb normally. They could not go around it, because the sides of the channel they traveled had risen even more steeply. They had either to proceed forward or to retreat all the way to the base and try another approach. None was willing to retreat.
Smash used his gauntleted fists to break out sections of rock, making crude steps for the others.
Fortunately, the really steep part was not extensive, and by noon they stood at the top.
It was a lake, hardly on the scale of Ogre-Chobee but impressive enough, brimful with sparkling water.
"This must be an old volcano," John said. "I have flown over similar ones, though not this big. We must beware; water dragons like such lakes, especially if they are hot on the bottom."
Smash grimaced. He didn't like water dragons, because they tended to be too much for an honest ogre to handle.
But he saw no sign of such a creature here. No droppings, no piles of bones, no discarded old scales or teeth.
"What are those?" Tandy inquired, pointing.
There were marks on the surface of the water. They were roughly circular indentations, with smaller indentations on one side of each large one. "They look like prints," the Siren said. "As if some creature walked on the water. Is that possible?"
Smash put one foot on the water. It sank through. The ripples moved across the prints, erasing them.
"Not possible," he decided.
Still, they decided to stay clear of the water until they knew more about it. Seemingly minor mysteries could be hazardous to their health in Xanth. They walked around the west side of the lake, following one of those suspiciously convenient paths because there was no other route between the deep water and the climike outer face of the mountain.
But as they bore north, following the curve of the cone, they encountered an outcropping of spongy rock. "Magma," Smash conjectured, forcing another subterranean memory to the surface, slightly heated.
"I don't care who it is, it's in our way," Tandy complained. Indeed, the rock blotted out the path, forcing them to attempt a hazardous scramble.
"I shall remove it," Smash decided. He readied his hamfist and pounded one good pound on the magma.
The rock responded with a deafening reverberation. They all clapped their hands over their ears while the mountain shook and the lake made waves. Finally the awful noise died away. "That magma comes loud!" the Siren said. "Magma cum laude," the ogre agreed, not hearing well yet.
"It sure is some sound," Tandy said, looking dizzy. The fairy agreed.
They decided they didn't like the sound of it, and would try the other side of the lake, where the way might be quieter. As they walked the path back, an awful moan slid across the water. "What is that?"
Tandy demanded anxiously.
"The wailing of whatever made the prints," the Siren conjectured.
"Oh. So these are the prints of wails."
"Close enough." The Siren grimaced. "I hope we don't meet the wail, though. I've had some experience with music on water, and this makes me nervous."
"Yes, you ought to know," Tandy agreed. "My father said you could bring any man to you from afar, if he heard you."
"Yes, when I had my magic," she said sadly. "Those days are gone, and perhaps it is just as well, but I do get lonely."
They approached the east side of the lake. But here they encountered more trouble. An ugly head lifted on a serpentine neck. It was not exactly a dragon's head, and not exactly a sea monster's head, but it had affinities with both. It was not large as monster heads went, but it hissed viciously enough.
Smash was tired of being balked. He did not mess with this minor monster; he reached out with one hand and caught the neck between gauntleted thumb and forefinger.
Immediately another head appeared, similar to the first and just as aggressive. Smash caught this one in his other glove.
Then a third came. This was getting awkward! Had he stumbled onto a whole nest of serpents? Hastily Smash smashed the first two heads together, crushing both, and reached for the third.
"They all connect!" the Siren exclaimed. "It's a many-headed serpent!"
Indeed it was! Four more heads rose up, making seven in all. Smash crushed two more, but had to move quickly to prevent the remaining three from burying their fangs in his limbs. He rose to the need, however, by catching one under his feet and the last two in his hands. In a moment all had been crushed, and he relaxed.