“No. We’re not even sure how to proceed. Demons are a whole other challenge.”

  “They are indeed. The Demons originated in Hades, which is probably not where you wish to go for information.”

  “Maybe Dara will have a suggestion,” Vinia said.

  “May I offer an alternative?” Cedar said.

  Was the luck of the ring kicking in? “What is it?” Vinia asked.

  “Go to the main source of Demon information this side of Hades. That is Demon Professor Grossclout, who has taught at the University of Magic for the past century or so. He knows more about small-d demons than anyone else. He would surely know of a suitable one.”

  “Grossclout!” Hilda said. “The notorious curmudgeon who terrorizes whole classes of Demons at a time. Why would he ever bother with us?”

  “He is said to have a soft spot for children. He doesn’t terrorize them.”

  “And we’re children,” Hilda said. “At least he wouldn’t blast us beyond the moon.”

  “But we have no idea where he is,” Ion said. “And being a Demon, he may not remain in any one place long enough for us to catch up with him.”

  “He is currently visiting the Islet of Longer Hands to give a lecture on diabolics. You should be able to catch him there today.”

  “Then we’d better do it,” Hilda said. “Vinia?”

  “Grossclout,” Vinia said to the ring. It flashed a direction. Benny aimed the carpet that way.

  “I have not heard of that islet,” Sherlock said.

  “It moves about,” Cedar explained. “There’s an equivalent one in Mundania called the Islet of Langerhans, which relates to diabetics.”

  Sherlock groaned. “Longer Hands, Langerhans. Diabolics, diabetics. Xanth is mostly made of puns, but this is almost insufferable.”

  “No worse than Grossclout himself, who is a parody of a fearsome Mundane professor said to have required his students to chase paper.”

  “Demons are mischief,” Ion said. “Fortunately the worst we have encountered is a passing scene with Metria.”

  “Don’t say her name!” Hilda warned him sharply.

  “Who?” Cedar asked.

  “Metria Demoness,” Vinia said helpfully, then covered her mouth.

  A small black cloud appeared before them. “Did I hear my epithet?”

  “Too late,” Ion groaned. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Me neither,” Vinia said ruefully.

  “Epithet?” Cedar asked. “A talking cloud?”

  The cloud expanded, projecting four or five extensions. “Defamation, calumny, denomination, identification, appellation, designation—”

  “Name?”

  “Whatever,” it answered crossly as the extensions formed into arms, legs, and head. “Who the bleep are you?”

  “Cedar Centaur. And I gather you are the nefarious Metria Demoness.”

  The figure shaped into a smoky woman clad in a taut little skirt and a halter that was a size and a half too small for its content. “The same.” She looked around. “This looks like a magic flying carpet with a mixed cargo of princes and children. There must be something interesting happening here.”

  “Nothing interesting,” Hilda said desperately. “Boring as bleep.”

  “Hilda. And Ion,” Metria said, recognizing them. “Sorceress and Magician. Are you involved in something your folks shouldn’t know about? That’s bound to be interesting.”

  Hilda sighed. “Might as well tell her. She’ll never stop pestering us otherwise.”

  “Tell me what?” the Demoness asked attentively.

  “That we’re on a Quest,” Ion said, accepting the inevitable.

  “Aha! I knew there was something interesting going on. Here you are with your helpers on a giant flying carpet with a canopy and shield, along with an old Shee elf, a wild fee elf, a lesbian gobliness, and a handsome winged centaur, heading for who knows where. But what kind of Quest would assemble such a menagerie? It is to wonder.”

  “How did you know?” Georgia asked, annoyed. “That I am lesbian?”

  “By the way you looked at my clothing.”

  “I looked the same way the men did.”

  “Exactly.”

  While Vinia and Hilda had frowned at the minihalter, half in irritation at the bad fit, half in envy for the generosity of the content, the men had looked with pleased interest. The Demoness knew exactly what responses she was trying for, and getting the right one from a woman was a live giveaway.

  “You’re a pretty sharp cookie, Demoness,” Sherlock said.

  “Thank you, dull elf.”

  “I’m Sherlock, King Emeritus of a local Shee kingdom. I have encountered Demonesses before, usually in passing, sometimes in bed, but have been more impressed with their bodies than their minds. You are evidently different.”

  “What’s wrong with my body?” Metria demanded, inhaling so that the halter started to rip.

  “Nothing. It’s your mind that differs. You seem to have a speech impediment, but acute observation. That makes you interesting.”

  What was he up to? Vinia had seen enough of Sherlock to know that he was not flirting with the Demoness, at least not with seduction as the object. He had something in mind, and it wasn’t her clothing.

  “What about my mind?” Metria asked, intrigued. Yes, he had gotten her flighty attention.

  “You plainly have more potential than you are using, so that you are not all that you could be.”

  Vinia saw that Ion was paying attention too, as were the others, especially Georgia. Sherlock was smart and knowledgeable, probably more so than Metria, but he wanted something from her. He was not so subtly flattering her. Why?

  “What potential?”

  “That requires some explaining. There is a contextual background.”

  She was hooked. “So explain, elf.” He had actually gotten her interested in something technical. But what was he trying to do?

  “I was an arrogant king, not suffering any back talk from anyone, including my daughter and heir. I had power and I wielded it relentlessly. That was effective; my kingdom prospered. But the fact that I listened to no one else meant that I was slowly going wrong, without correction. That was ultimately mischief. I lost my position when there was an insurrection by my alienated people that put my daughter in power. Only when I lost power did I come to understand and appreciate the other side of things. My daughter treated me far more tolerantly than I had treated her, and she was that way with everyone. She listened to contrary opinions and took advice. Not only was she more popular than I had been, she is in no danger of another insurrection. And the kingdom is prospering better than it did in my day. That was a significant lesson that I will keep in mind for the rest of my life. There really is merit in doing the right thing. The decent thing. In helping others rather than oneself. It may not be apparent at first, but in time it becomes a powerful tide. I have no power now, so it may be academic, but if by some fluke I should ever regain power, I would be a better ruler by far than I was before.”

  Metria’s interest was starting to flag. “What has this to do with me?”

  “Everything. You are much the way I was, proceeding with your projects without concern for the welfare or opinions of others. That leads to negative reactions, as you have seen by the way Ion and Hilda evidently view you. They want to be rid of you, which makes it difficult for you to discover, let alone participate in anything interesting. My guess is that this is typical of your other contacts.”

  “So what?”

  “Ultimately it is a person’s own judgment of his own character that counts, rather than the satisfactions of the moment. When a person assesses himself, what does he prefer to see, a string of annoyances and exclusions, or folk who welcome and appreciate his presence? Were you to tune in on their interests the way you did on Georgia Goblin’s, for example, you could be phenomenally more popular than you are now. You could so readily change your reputation for the better and become a model others seek to emulate.”

  “Bleep,” Metria swore. “I fear you are making sense. I am tired of being unpopular.”

  “As was I,” Sherlock agreed.

  “But what can I do? I am the way I am. I seek interesting things, and they don’t hold my interest long.”

  Sherlock angled his head persuasively. “How are you at dealing with Demons?”

  She laughed. “I am a Demon. Didn’t you notice?” Her halter fogged out, leaving only trace wisps to cover parts of her bared bosom.

  “We are hoping to talk with Demon Grossclout. Do you know of him?”

  “Do I ever! I used to take his classes in magic at the U. I had no interest in the subject, but enjoyed teasing him by wearing a short skirt over polka-dot panties with no cloth inside the dots. Then I’d cross my legs so the dots showed. He never admitted it, but I know that drove him crazy, because he always had an eye for the ladies. Too bad he knew I wasn’t a lady.”

  “You know Grossclout! Then you can surely help us talk with him, if you care to.”

  “Why would I care to? He’s a crusty old bore.”

  “Because we need his help to recruit a suitable Demon prince for a Demon princess, so that six princesses can be released from their crystal prison.”

  She considered. “Now that’s interesting, all right. What are those princesses going to do?”

  “They hope to form the feminist Queendom of Thanx.”

  “A feminist queendom! That’s fascinating. I’m all for it.”

  “Help us talk with Grossclout, and you’ll be helping the queendom to come into existence.”

  At last Vinia made the connection. A Demoness to facilitate their dialogue with a Demon. Metria could indeed do that, if she chose to.

  “So that’s it. You want me to get Grossclout’s attention for you.”

  “That’s it. You might be able to accomplish what we can’t.”

  “Why should I bother?”

  “Because it would be a decent thing to do.”

  Metria paused, processing a new concept. “A decent thing. You prospered, at least intellectually, by becoming halfway decent. I might be less bored if I were decent. Still, it would be a chore, because he banned me from his classes.”

  “He is about to give a lecture on diabolics at the Islet of Longer Hands. We hope to catch him there.”

  Still she hesitated. “I don’t know. Who is the crystal princess?”

  “Demesne,” Vinia said.

  “Demesne! I know her. She was the top student in class. She always paid the closest attention to what he was saying. He thought it was because she was interested in the subject, but actually it was because she had a crush on him. A gnarly old codger like that! She finally left, knowing it was hopeless. Too bad, because I know the signs: he found her interesting. If she had had my expertise, she’d have soon seduced him.”

  Demesne had had a crush on Grossclout? That was news. That might explain why she had gone out on her own and gotten crystallized.

  “He found her interesting?” Sherlock repeated. “She might have had a chance with him after all, had she but persevered.”

  “She sure might. He was turned on by her attention in class, and her smarts, but her body wasn’t half bad either.”

  Since Demons could assume any form they wanted, Vinia thought, most of them did have good bodies. But they tended to stick to their most familiar forms, so could usually be recognized.

  “I have a wicked idea,” Sherlock said.

  “I like wicked,” Metria said.

  “Suppose we go and try to talk with him, but he won’t give us the time of the minute, let alone the time of day. Then you assume her form and smile at him. Would that get his attention?”

  Metria nodded. “You’re right. It would. That’s wicked. I love it.”

  “And in the larger context, it would be a decent thing. We know that you have no personal interest in him, but you would be helping us to make the case for him getting together with the real thing.”

  “Wicked and decent together,” Metria agreed. “A weird juxtaposition. How can I resist?”

  “Then remain here with us and accompany us when we intercept Grossclout. Maybe conceal your identity, for now, so that he doesn’t recognize you.”

  “That’s easy. I’ll just take a nap while you travel.” The Demoness dissipated into smoke. It formed into a pretty little starflower, which landed on Sherlock’s jacket as a decoration. It twinkled twice, then went still. She was napping.

  “I believe we are ready to address Demon Grossclout,” Sherlock said.

  “We certainly are,” Hilda agreed. “You were amazing.”

  “Merely doing my bit to facilitate the cause.” But he was clearly pleased by his success. Vinia realized that he was already committed to the formation and success of Thanx.

  They followed the direction indicated by the ring and soon arrived at a small island in the shape of a very long-fingered hand. “Invisible,” Hilda told Ion, and he opened a vial. Nothing seemed to change, but Vinia knew they now could not be seen or heard from outside.

  The ring flashed in changing directions, meaning that the subject was close and moving. This was the place.

  “Metria,” Hilda said. “We’re here.”

  The starflower blinked, then puffed into smoke, which in turn formed into Metria in sexy dishabille. Nobody protested, for different reasons. “Did I hear my repute?”

  “We don’t have time for that rigmarole. Grossclout is near.”

  Indeed, a Demon was walking along the walk below, evidently departing a lecture hall by a private exit, as he was alone.

  “That must be him,” Cedar said. “But why is he walking, when he could simply pop over to wherever he is going?”

  “Mainly courtesy,” Hilda said. “The students here will be mostly physical, accustomed to physical professors, so he doesn’t rub his nature in their faces, even when taking a private route. Walking short distances probably saves him energy, too.”

  “You seem remarkably knowledgeable.” He didn’t add “For a child.”

  “I’m a princess. Proper decorum when entertaining guests has been drilled into me. It’s one reason I prefer to get out on my own, with people I can be informal with.”

  “Right on,” Furioso agreed.

  “Who goes to meet him?” Vinia asked.

  “You try first,” Hilda said. “Maybe your luck will hold. Take Metria with you.”

  “I’ll be invisible,” the Demoness said. “At first.” She faded out.

  Vinia had sort of known she would be on the spot. It was expected of protagonists. She would just have to muddle through, as usual. “Um, should I take the holo?”

  Hilda handed it to her.

  The carpet dived to the walk ahead of Grossclout. Vinia stepped off, becoming visible. “Hello, sir,” she said politely.

  The Demon paused. He was indeed formidable, with gnarled horns, a swishing tail, and a natural glower that seemed somewhat larger than his face. “Are you a late student? I don’t recognize you.”

  “No, sir. I am Vinia, on a separate mission. I have come to ask you—”

  Grossclout vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing beyond her on the walk. So much for the direct approach. He didn’t mess with strangers.

  “Time for the first team,” Metria said in her ear. “I’ll take you there.” She put her hands on Vinia’s elbows and lifted her. There was a wrenching, and suddenly they were on the path ahead of Grossclout.

  This time Metria was visible beside her, in the exact form of Demesne.

  Grossclout huffed, about to pop past again, but froze, staring. Obviously he recognized her. “Where have you been?” he demanded gruffly.

  “This is not really Demesne,” Vinia said. “Merely her image. Please, I come on her behalf.”

  And this time he remained in place. “How so?”

  “Let me play her holo for you. That explains everything.”

  “Play it.”

  Vinia activated the holo as Metria faded out. Demesne made her case for connecting with an amenable Demon prince, and the holo ended.

  Now Grossclout gave Vinia his direct and formidable attention. She tried not to quail. “Did she know you would come to me?”

  “No. We didn’t know. I think she expects a younger prince.”

  “Age is immaterial to a Demon. We are all ageless as we are crafted in Hades, then choose our appearance and manner. I think I require your opinion.”

  “Sir, I am just an incidental child. My opinion is irrelevant.”

  “A child who wears Dara’s ring. The protagonist of this story. Who has uncanny finesse in handling unusual situations. Hardly incidental.”

  Taken severely aback, Vinia oriented on one thing. “You see the ring?”

  “I see it, child. I gave it to Dara a century ago to facilitate her training of the Good Magician Humfrey. She did accomplish that.”

  “But she said it belonged originally to a Magician.”

  He merely looked at her. She realized that Grossclout was the Magician. She had put her foot in it.

  “You know nothing,” he said.

  She might as well be a student in his class, who had not done her homework. “Yes, sir.”

  “A true innocent. The rarest of creatures.”

  He had her nailed to the wall. “Yes, sir,” she agreed, ashamed.

  “Which means you have no preconceptions to interfere with your intellectual development. I like that.”

  He liked her ignorance? Vinia had no idea how to respond.

  “In contrast to that vulgar insult to the species, Metria.”

  So he saw Metria. He didn’t miss a trick.

  “Hey, I’m reforming,” Metria protested as she appeared. “I’m trying to do something decent for a change.”

  “Anything would be more decent than those stuffed polka-dot panties you insisted on flashing in class.”