The arrows finally gave up teasing them. The fifth said queendom of thanx. That was the one. “Thank you,” Nydia said. A shadow flickered across the sign as if it were nodding.

  They had hardly gotten fairly started when another sign accosted them. detour: path under construction. safety spell in abeyance. The main path was blocked by a rough stone wall, and they could see ogres working in the distance, twisting bordering tree trunks into pretzels and squeezing the juice from stray stones. It seemed that the Queendom was a more recent development, and not all its paths had been completed yet. They did not want to mess with ogres, either, even tame ones.

  “Bleep,” Noletta muttered. “That means we’ll have to be alert.”

  Nydia was caught by a passing thought. Thoughts did that, apparently drifting randomly around until one collided with a receptive head. “Maybe it’s for the best. We need to test our socks and your talent. We won’t always be on safe paths, and we need to be prepared.”

  Noletta nodded. “Let’s do it.” Now that she had learned more about the larger realm of Xanth, and kept her memory, she was committed.

  They stepped onto the bypass, which was a crude trail through the jungle, maybe hacked by the ogres. Nydia was hyper-alert, remembering how Noletta’s talent had shown them extinct at one point. “Stay tuned,” she told Noletta.

  “Oh, yes! So far we’re fine.”

  The trail meandered down to a passing stream just deep enough to soak their slippers. But the tumbled stones of the channel looked sharp, so bare feet were not the answer. Then Nydia remembered. “The socks! They should keep us dry and whole.”

  “If they work,” Noletta said dubiously.

  “I’m not afraid of water,” Nerine said, and waded in. And paused midstream, taken aback. “It’s dry! Even the slippers, I think.”

  Oh? Nydia strode in. Indeed, it was as if there were no water, except that she could feel its slight resistance to the motion of her legs. She reached down to touch her slippers, and not only were they dry, so was her hand. The magic of the hosiery was not limited to the feet. “I think the socks are working.”

  Noletta joined them. “They do work,” she said, surprised in her turn. “But this is water. What about fire?”

  The crib floated blithely across, unconcerned.

  They walked on. Soon Noletta sniffed the air. “I smell smoke.”

  It turned out to be a fire salamander chasing insects, leaving a thin, smoldering trail behind. Nydia got down and blew on a likely section, evoking a small flame. She gritted her teeth and touched it with a finger. And felt—

  “Nothing,” she said. “I do not feel the heat at all. The socks are working for this too.”

  The others tried it, and confirmed that the fire was harmless to them. The socks were proving out, not at all limited to feet. That was a relief.

  They walked on. “Uh-oh,” Noletta said. “My vision just flickered. We must be in danger.”

  “More smoke,” Nerine said.

  Nydia looked to the sides. The jungle was impenetrable, and some of the trees looked hungry. Tangle trees, surely, that grabbed and ate any creatures with edible flesh. Like tasty nymphs. The trail was the only avenue anywhere. “We’ll just have to be careful.”

  They rounded a curve and spied a blazing fire in the middle of the trail. They paused.

  “Haa!” a loud voice came from behind. “Fresh meat!”

  It was a troll, and not a friendly one. He blocked the trail behind.

  “Uh-oh,” Noletta repeated. “A worse blink.”

  They had walked into a trap. “Remember,” Nydia warned, “not all trolls are like Trader. Most are vicious.”

  Now other trolls appeared, skirting the fire to close in on the nymphs. “Dibs on the blue one,” one said. “I want to use her before I roast and eat her.”

  That was Noletta. For a moment she froze, checking into her future vision. Then she made a decision, surely guided by that.

  “I got the shiny one,” another troll said, stalking Nydia.

  “The green one’s mine,” a third one said, eyeing Nerine. “I don’t care how messy her hair is; her body is good. At least for this one thing.”

  He meant two things, the second being roasting and eating her.

  The crib floated on, ignored, as Woe Betide slept. The trolls surely knew better than to try to eat a demon. All they’d get was a foul taste before she dissipated into smoke.

  Nydia was for the moment stunned, unable to come up with a viable escape plan. It was Noletta who acted. “You want a piece of me?” she demanded of the one who clearly did want exactly that. She strode toward the bonfire as the troll pursued her. She reached in and took hold of a blazing stick. She held it up, the fire not touching her. “Come and get me, foul-face!”

  The troll paused, not certain if what he was seeing and hearing was real. Nymphs were supposed to scream cutely and fling their hair about. Not carry a burning stick bare-handed!

  “You deaf?” Noletta demanded. “Or just hungry? Then take a taste of this. Open your ugly mouth.” She advanced on him, brandishing the torch. “Eat this, imbecile!” She shoved the brand right at his face.

  The troll, astonished, fell backward. Noletta pursued him as he landed on the ground. “Come on, bleep-face!” Her language was getting worse as she jammed the fire at his open mouth.

  The troll screamed in pain. He scooted away on his back, then got up and ran.

  But Noletta wasn’t through. She whirled on the one orienting on Nydia. “You hungry for tender flesh, too, bleep for brains? Here’s your meal!” She swung the stick at his head. “You like roast? Chomp down on this.”

  The troll retreated, cowed. Noletta focused on the one stalking Nerine. He, marginally smarter than the others, bent away and averted his face.

  “Oh, you’re hiding your ugly part?” she demanded. “Then I’ll serve your pretty part.” She jammed the stick at his exposed bare rear.

  “Oooooo!” he howled, taking off as if jet-propelled.

  But the remaining trolls were reorganizing, arming themselves with damp sticks to fend off her attacks. This wasn’t over yet.

  Nydia came to life as she saw the way. “Grab more firebrands!” she yelled. “Drive them off!” She plunged a hand into the bonfire and got hold of a fine flaming branch. Nerine joined her. There was no pain at all. “Charge!”

  They ran at the trolls who, surprised again, scattered. The siege was over.

  Victorious, the trio circled the bonfire and walked on down the trail. Once they were certain there was no pursuit, they set the branches down on a clear section and moved on. They knew the trolls would not tackle such weird creatures again.

  “Noletta, that performance was brilliant,” Nydia said. “How did you come up with it?”

  “I just did what I had to to keep the future active. Whenever it wavered, I got more aggressive until it clarified. It’s clear now.”

  “That talent of yours is more potent than we thought.”

  “I’m learning how to use it,” Noletta agreed, pleased.

  “The socks are potent too,” Nerine said.

  “Indeed they are. The Good Magician gave us a real gift.”

  “He must really want us to succeed in our quest,” Noletta said thoughtfully.

  As he had from the outset, Nydia realized. From the moment Nerine got caught in the gully. Had they ever had any free will, or was that merely a pleasant illusion? Still, this was vastly better than endless celebrating in the Retreat. Even the danger, since they were handling it.

  They continued walking, intrigued. Woe Betide still accompanied them, having slept through the whole fracas. They could have awakened her, but why? The trolls were hardly child’s play.

  They passed a field of pie plants and harvested some to eat. Nydia had apple pie, Noletta cherry, and Nerine watermelon. Woe woke long enough to grab a small chocolate pie. She didn’t need to eat, but liked candy.

  Then they came to a larger river. This one was too wide and deep to wade across, and there were no bridges or boats; they would have to swim. Fortunately, the template also had that ability. They mainly just had to spread their arms and kick their feet.

  Except that the socks prevented it. They walked down into the deep water and seemed to be encased in bubbles of air, keeping them dry. Could they actually walk across the deep riverbed?

  “No,” Nerine said. “I’ve got to get into this.” She removed her clothing, handing the wadded outfit to Nydia, then stooped to remove her socks. She was now nymphly nude.

  “But you need the protection,” Nydia protested. “You could drown.”

  “I think not.” She handed Nydia the socks, then stroked with her arms and swam into the deep water.

  And was transformed. Her tangled hair spread out into a luxurious shawl that played about her splendid body. She was absolutely beautiful. She dived, and seemed to have no trouble breathing; in fact, she was breathing the water. Now there seemed to be translucent webs between her fingers and toes to aid her swimming. She was plainly in her element.

  “You’re a nereid!” Noletta exclaimed. “A sea nymph!”

  “You must have been sent to the wrong Retreat,” Nydia said. “A paperwork mistake. That’s why your hair fouled up. It needs to be surrounded by water to flourish.”

  “I never knew until I got in the water,” Nerine said, gratified. She was even able to speak with her face below the surface.

  Meanwhile, the other two forged across the riverbed by foot, encased in bubbles of air so they could breathe. The socks remained impressive.

  They rejoined at the far bank, where Nerine recovered her clothing and her tangle. Woe Betide’s crib, of course, floated placidly over the water. It seemed to keep track of them, needing no directions from the child.

  Then they came to a section where nickelpedes swarmed. Nydia knew from her template that there were many kinds of bugs in Xanth, many of them harmless to human folk. Centipedes normally went about their own many-legged business, as did dimepedes. But nickelpedes and quarterpedes were vicious. They gouged out nickel or quarter-sized chunks of flesh. They were not elemental, so the socks would not protect the nymphs against this.

  But the bugs were across the trail and along the sides. Even as the trees opened up into a valley, there was no way to avoid them. What were the nymphs to do? Stomping them would squish only a few before the rest scrambled up their limbs and bit them to death. Even if they escaped, they would have ugly welts in the worst place, their legs, making them unsightly. That horror was almost worse than death. There was no fire to burn the insects back, or water to drown them. Nothing but a solitary windmill placidly blowing small white clouds to and fro.

  Nydia was stumped. Unless …

  “Woe Betide,” she said urgently.

  The child woke, startled. “Are we there yet?”

  “Not yet. Our way is blocked by nickelpedes. We can’t get through. What would Metria do?”

  Woe laughed. “That’s easy. She’d insult that windmill.”

  Could this possibly be relevant? Was the child teasing her? Nydia was discovering a temper, something true nymphs lacked, but she held it in check, just in case she was missing something. “How would that help us?”

  “It’ll blow them away. The socks will protect you but not the ’pedes.”

  Nydia glanced at Noletta, who pursed her lips thoughtfully. Weird things could make sense in Xanth. The inanimate could indeed get riled up. Worse, stones could see up under skirts and sometimes make vulgar comments. Nymphs hardly cared, but they were trying to leave nymphdom behind. That was surely why the path-making ogres were squeezing stones dry. A squished stone could not look up anyone’s skirt, let alone make a naughty remark.

  All they could do was try it and see what happened. “Thank you, Woe.”

  “Sure.” The child went back to sleep.

  Nydia faced the windmill. She marshaled her insult ability, another part of the template. “What do you think you’re doing, fan-face? Leave those poor clouds alone.”

  The windmill revved up angrily, orienting on her. She was scoring!

  “You heard me, blades for brains. You’re not supposed to be picking on innocent clouds. Stop it immediately.”

  Now the mill sped up furiously. A gust of wind came right at them, blowing leaves and twigs away.

  “Is that the best you can do, airhead? Your name must be Zephyr.”

  That did it. The wind intensified. Now it blew dirt and stones from the ground.

  But it did not affect the nymphs. Air was an element, and they were protected against it. They stood unmoved. That only incited the mill to further effort. But it could not touch them.

  The nickelpedes, however, were not so lucky. They were blown away. She almost, but not quite, felt sorry for them.

  “Good show,” Nydia called to the mill as they quickly passed the section that had been buggy. Partly mollified, the blades eased off. Regardless, the nymphs were now passing out of range.

  So the child’s advice had been good. They had found a way to make the socks work for them indirectly. There would surely be other occasions where they could sock it to the environment, if they were just cunning enough to do it.

  But further mischief lurked. A werewolf spied them. It howled the news to its pack: delicious maidens in range. In barely half a moment, the response came: two-thirds of a baker’s dozen acknowledging howls. They would likely converge within seven and a half moments. Then the nymphs would be tasty dead meat. No need to roast them.

  Bleep! Nydia thought. This time there was no windmill in sight, merely a small volcano resting in the distance with barely a wisp of smoke rising from its cone. No wind blowing there. “Woe,” she said imperatively.

  The child woke. “Insult the ’cano.” She returned to sleep.

  What the bleep good would that do? They were here; the volcano was there, maybe an hour away by foot. Even if it erupted, it wouldn’t affect them. But what else was there? The template had a memory of when a princess had insulted a volcano, saying she had seen a better cone on eye scream. The volcano had really blown its top. The template also had a memory of Mount Pinatuba going Ooom-pah! and blowing out so much smoke and dust it cooled all Xanth by a degree. She suspected that drear Mundania had never seen anything like that. Only this was a magnitudinally inferior volcano not even looking for a quarrel.

  But she had to try. She dredged the template for suitable language. “Hey, cone-nose!” Nydia called. “You’re sleeping on the job!” There was an angry puff of smoke from the cone. It had heard her.

  “Yeah, you, hotbox! You hardly look warm enough to heat a pot of gruel lukewarm.”

  More smoke belched, forming a cloud over the cone.

  “What a pantywaist!” she called, though she didn’t know what a pantywaist was; it was just a word in the more obscure region of the template lexicon.

  Nevertheless, it had power. A torrent of smoke shot up from the cone, forming the shape of a huge mushroom in the sky. The volcano was truly insulted. But Nydia still did not see how this aerial show could save them from the werewolves.

  As if on cue, the pack appeared. The leader morphed to man-form. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “These girls have nymphly proportions. We’ll do some celebrating before we tear them into screaming toothsome pieces!”

  Somehow males always seemed to want to celebrate before getting down to business. If only it stopped there!

  In desperation, Nydia stuck out her tongue at the volcano. “Nyaa-nyaa, conic symbol! You can’t get me, you pile of sludge!”

  The volcano rumbled so hard its sides split open and melted rock spewed out. Lava, the lexicon said. But it was still over there, while the werewolves were here, leering closer.

  Blazing rocks heaved out from the cone, crashing into the ground all around them. This was getting scary! Then the ground around them shook violently. It heaved up, tossing trees and werewolves into the air. The wolves howled in surprise and panic.

  But there was no effect on the nymphs. Then Nydia caught on: this was the Element of Earth. It extended everywhere they walked. They were protected from it. The werewolves weren’t.

  Woe Betide had come through again.

  They walked calmly through the carnage. It looked like the template’s recording of a battlefield, with debris littered across it. Now Nydia almost felt sorry for the wolves, as she had for the nickelpedes, until she reminded herself what they had planned to do to the nymphs. Live by the sword, die by the sword: another nugget from the record.

  The socks had now proved themselves four ways, protecting them from Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. There was one more element, the Void, but Nydia hoped they wouldn’t have to face that.

  They crested a hill, then came to a fork. Uh-oh. “Take the left trail,” Nydia said. Then she wondered. “Hold on; let’s try the right trail first.”

  “Noooo!” Noletta wailed, suddenly stricken.

  “Correction. The left one.”

  Noletta relaxed. Her talent, too, was proving out.

  They walked along the path, relaxing; this could have been horrendous without the socks and Noletta’s talent. But Nydia was not about to relax completely. There were too many uncomfortable nuances.