Jumper was going about his business as usual, hunting succulent bugs to eat. He had happened upon a puddle of ointment, and knew there would be flies in it. He was just about to nab a fat fly, taking care not to get stuck in the slimy stuff himself— whereupon a hook swung down from the sky and caught him by the scruff of his chitin. It hauled him up, up, and away, dizzyingly. Then it dropped him into another scene. This was strange beyond his experience. The ointment was gone, and with it the delectable fly. The plants were thick-stemmed and woody, reaching into the sky, sheathed in clusters of green leaves. Some were small green blades hugging the ground. There was a bird, but no threat to him because it was so small as to be no bigger than a mite. Weird!
Jumper suffered a tweak of memory. His great-to-the-nth grandfather, the original Jumper, had had experience with such a realm. Where was it?
There was a scream. Jumper reacted before he thought, getting there in a single bound. Jumping was of course his nature; he could cover many times his body length per jump, and make a perfect landing. He was, after all, a free-ranging spider.
It was— his distant tenth-hand memory tweaked— a man, grabbing a girl. Girls needed protecting. So he extended a foreleg, caught the man by the scruff, heaved him up, and threw him away. The man landed in a prickle bush, yelped, looked at Jumper, yelped again, and fled.
“Xx, xxxxx xxx!” the girl cried, getting to her two thick feet. Jumper clicked his mandibles in confusion. He did not speak girl talk. He was trying to figure out what a girl was doing in this scene. Girls were properly of the giant realm.
She gazed at him, then went to the side and fetched something squirmy. She brought it to him. She held it up with one of her forelegs. Jumper reached out a foreleg and took it. It seemed to be a writhing nest of greenish leaves. What was he supposed to do with it? The girl made a gesture as of putting something in her mouth part. Oh— this was edible? He lifted it to his own mouth, to taste it. But the thing immediately squirmed into his mouth and filled it with twisting strands.
“Oh, thank yew!” the girl exclaimed, exactly as before.
“You’re welcome,” Jumper said.
Then he paused, astonished. Not only had he understood her, he had replied in her own language. How could that be?
“It’s the tongues,” the girl said. “I gave yew the gift of tongues. So we could talk.”
“Tongues?” he asked, perplexed. There was something funny about the way she talked, without any clicking of mandibles; could this explain it?
“It’s a kind of plant,” she clarified. “It enables a person to relate to any language. Yew saved me from getting abused by that village lout, and I wanted to thank yew. So I had to enable yew to talk. Yew can spit out the tongues now, if yew want.”
He considered that. “First, can you tell me where this is? I am not familiar with this scene.”
“Well, yew woodn’t be. Yew’re a spider, aren’t yew? A big one. Yew must bee from far away. This is Xanth proper.”
“Xanth proper! That’s where my ancestor was.”
“I dew knot know about him, but yew came in on a narrative hook. I saw it drop yew here. I was so surprised that I was knot careful, and that lout caught me. Then yew rescued me. I really dew appreciate that. Most creatures woodn’t have bothered.”
“A narrative hook?”
“It’s a device to catch someone up in a story right away. Once it hooks yew, yew can’t leave the scene.”
Jumper wasn’t satisfied with that, so he changed the subject. “Why wouldn’t someone else have bothered to help you? You seem like a nice girl, for your species.”
“My species. There’s the rub. Yew see, I’m knot really a girl.”
“You’re not? You look like one.”
“From the front.”
“You seem to have a nice front.” She was bare, and shapely. He was remembering the descriptions handed down to the descendants by the original Jumper. Girls were supposed to have thin forelegs, thick hind legs, and fleshy cones on their torsos. She did.
“But I’m really a woodwife.”
“Wood? Trees are wood. They have wives?”
“No, silly! I am made of hollow wood. See.” She turned around. Jumper stared. From the back he saw that she was indeed hollow. Her round limbs and cones were empty, as was her head. Her shaped front outside was all there was of her.
She completed her turn and faced him again. “So you see, I am something else. I wish I could bee a real girl, so I could make some real man happy, and not bee stalked by village louts who dew knot care what’s inside as long as they can poke it from outside. But that simply is knot my nature.”
“I . . . see,” he said, orienting about three of his eight eyes on her. It didn’t help; she remained the shell of a woman.
“And that is knot the worst of it. Com Pewter wants to make me into a Mother Board to fix his obsolescence. Because my animation is all in my wood shell. I could knot stand being shut up like that, so I’m fleeing civilization. Knot that I was ever part of it; I am an innocent woodland creature.”
“I understand. I wouldn’t like it either.”
“But that’s no concern of yewrs. Yew saved me this time, and I’ll bee more careful next time. I’m really grateful. Is there any favor I can dew yew in return?”
“Can you tell me how to return to my own realm?”
She shook her head. “Yew can knot return, once yew’ve been hooked. Yew have to finish the narrative.”
“But I was about to catch a succulent fly!”
“I’m sorry about that— what’s your name?”
“Jumper.”
“I’m sorry, Jumper. I’m Wenda. Wenda Woodwife, a fantasy female. I dew knot know why the narrative hook caught yew and put yew here; maybe it was just an accident. But yew’re stuck in my world for the duration.”
“But I’m not comfortable here!” That was an understatement, but he wasn’t sure how to fill it out to full strength.
“I understand, I think. I’m knot comfortable being a fake girl; yew’re knot comfortable being in an alien environment. Too bad we can knot solve each other’s problems.” Then she paused, looking at him. “What is that?”
“My carapace?” he asked. “I wear my skeleton on the outside. Not that I have much of one. I am mostly soft body and hard legs.”
“No, that thing stuck to yewr back.” She stepped forward and reached for it. It turned out to be a square paper with markings on it.
“I didn’t know about that,” he said, surprised.
“It’s like a label, identifying yew.”
“I know who I am. A lost spider.”
She studied it. “I think yew had better read it, Jumper. It seems to relate to yew.” She handed it back to him. Jumper took it with one foreleg and oriented an eye on it. To his surprise he found he could read. The tongues really were versatile.
P RO P H E C Y
A Hero unfurls the Bra & Girlls
The Good Magician will set the mission Like the Ogre beware rogue her
Win Heart and Mind but be not blind
The Unicorn betrays the scorn
And Button Ghost unmasks the Host.
Jumper looked up. “This makes little if any sense to me. What hero? What girls? What Ogre? What Unicorn? What Ghost?”
“I dew knot know. It may bee part of your problem I can knot solve.”
She smiled. “Maybee it is part of the tangled web yew weave to confuse people.”
Jumper folded the mystical note and tucked it under a fold of his carapace. “I think I could solve your problem, at least. All you need is girl clothing and someone to watch your back to make sure no one else sees it.”
“Clothing! Woodwives dew knot wear clothing.”
“So it would make you seem more like a real girl.”
Her little mouth dropped open. “It wood, woodn’t it? I never thought of that.”
“Well, you’re a forest creature. It shows in your speech.”
She considered. “Clothing makes me think of the anti-streaking agent.”
“The what?”
“It is something to put in wash water. It messes up the fauns and nymphs something awful, because then they can knot streak.”
“I don’t understand.”
She paused, assessing his incomprehension. “It is complicated. But I might bee able to solve yewr problem, or tell yew how to. I thought it was just chance that brought me here right when yew arrived, but maybee that hook had a reason to drop yew near me. Because maybee we can help each other. What yew need to dew is go ask the Good Magician, as yewr Prophecy suggests.”
“I don’t believe I know him, or even where he is. Would he know the answer?”
“He knows the answer to everything. All yew have to dew is ask. Only then he makes yew pay for it with a year’s ser vice, or equivalent. So maybe that’s knot for yew.”
Now Jumper considered. “If the alternative is to stay here in this foreign habitat, I might be better off with that year.” Then he reconsidered. “Except for one thing.”
“One thing?”
“Spiders of my type live only about six months.”
“But yew’re much bigger now. Shouldn’t yew live longer? At least in this realm? Maybee six months in yewr realm is sixty years in this one.”
He wasn’t sure. “Maybe so. If I knew where to find him.”
“I am beginning to think that maybee we can after all help each other, as I said. I wood like to ask the Good Magician how to become a full girl instead of a half girl, and how to escape Com Pewter, who can change reality in his vicinity. But it’s a dangerous trip, and there are many louts along the way. I wood never make it on my own with my innocence intact. But if I traveled with yew, no lout would bother me.”
“You know the way there?”
“Yes. An enchanted path leads to it. I wood be happy to show yew.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“Let’s dew it,” she agreed.
He thought of something else. “The lout was afraid of me. Why weren’t you?”
“Because spiders suck the juices out of succulent bugs. I’m knot succulent. I’m made of wood. I merely look succulent from the front. The front of a girl is all a lout cares about.”
That explained it, to an extent. “But if you aren’t soft and juicy, how can the louts hurt you?”
“They dew knot suck. They inject. I am soft enough from the front.”
Jumper still did not quite understand, but decided to let it be. “Then let’s get you dressed. Do you have any clothing?”
“I know where all the clothing plants are. There’s a shoe tree nearby, and a pantree, and a hat rack, and all.”
Jumper followed as she busily harvested assorted clothing. Then he helped her put it on. It fit well in front, but hung loose behind. They had to put a leafy branch behind her, which he fastened in place with sticky web. That supported her panties and bra, which he also taped in place. Then she donned a shirt and skirt, similarly tacked down. Finally she put on lady slippers from another obliging plant, and a dainty feminine hat that helped anchor her hair to conceal the hollow back of her head. They went to a calm pool of water and looked down. “Oh!” Wenda exclaimed, delighted. “I look ravishing!”
“Good enough to eat,” Jumper agreed. Then he reconsidered. “Not that I would.”
“Knot that yew wood,” she agreed, laughing. “I’m inedible.”
They set out for the Good Magician’s castle. “This magician— I know nothing of him. My ancestors did not mention him. Is he a formidable character?”
“I understand he’s a grumpy old man who does knot give clear answers. But somehow they always work out.”
“I hope so. I am not comfortable in this odd realm.”
“We will locate an enchanted path that will not only lead us there, it will guarantee that there are no bad dangers. That’s the point of the enchantment: to protect innocent travelers. So yew won’t have to worry about danger.”
“But then why did you say the trek is dangerous?”
“Dangerous for me, because of the louts. They think that all girls want to be hugged and kissed indiscriminately. That’s only the beginning. The enchantment does knot consider the loss of innocence a threat.”
“Spiders aren’t much for hugging and kissing,” he agreed. “But I thought human girls liked it.”
“Only with the right man. A lout is knot right. A lout would just yews me, knot make me a woman.”
This was evidently more complicated than he understood. “I can keep the louts from you.”
“Thank yew.”
An innocuous creature approached them, clearly no threat to anyone. But Wenda was alarmed. “Dew knot let it close!”
“But it is harmless,” he protested as she guided him to a place behind a big tree.
“No. I know the forest predators. That’s a No gard.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Backwards for Drag on. He’s pretending to bee harmless, putting yew off yewr guard until he can get close enough to chomp yew.”
Sure enough, as the creature passed by the tree and they saw the other side of it, it was a horrendous toothy smoky reptilian creature. Quite big enough to chomp Jumper. A dragon.
“You saved me,” Jumper said.
“Well, yew saved me first.”
He experienced a largely unfathomable emotion. “I . . . feel good about you. I don’t know why.”
“Yew like me,” she said. “And I like yew. We are becoming friends.”
“Spiders don’t have friends.”
“Maybee they dew when they are in our realm.”
That was evidently the case. “What do friends do with each other?”
“They help each other, and enjoy each other’s company, and are sad when they part.”
“Friends,” he agreed, satisfied.
They came to a clearing in the forest. Suddenly a wind stirred up. It caught one of Jumper’s legs. “Ouch!” he said, expressing discomfort in the human tongue.
“Oh, it’s a biting wind,” Wenda said. “We’ll have to go around this region.”
Jumper would have preferred to bite the wind back, but there was nothing to chomp on. So they circled the clearing, going behind trees, where the wind could not get at them well enough to bite. As they completed their circuit, one of Jumper’s eight sharp eyes spotted something to the side. It looked like a bare human leg. But it was gone before he could get a second eye on it.
“Something may be stalking us,” he said.
“The woods are full of stalkers,” Wenda said. “How big is it?”
“All I saw was a leg, perhaps the size of yours.”
“That could bee anything from a goblin to a troll. Dew knot let it come close; they’re even worse than louts.”
“I will remain alert. If I catch it, is it all right to eat it?”
“Well, I guess so. But I understand goblins taste awful. At least the ugly male ones dew.”
“They probably don’t much resemble fat bugs,” Jumper said with regret.
“The enchanted path is knot far from here. Then we’ll bee safe from such threats.”
They came across a human man sitting under a tree. He looked up and saw Wenda. “Well, now,” he said. Then he saw Jumper. “Stay away!” he cried. “My name is Oxalate. I can change the amount of oxygen in the air. If you come close I’ll smother you.”
“What are yew talking about?” Wenda demanded.
“If I increase the oxygen enough, the air may burst into flame. If I decrease it, no one can breathe, and it can stifle a fire. So don’t let that monster come close.”
“This is Jumper,” Wenda said. “He is knot going to eat yew.”
“Well, I don’t want to risk it.”
“Then we will leave yew alone,” Wenda said, and walked on. Jumper followed her.
“Why did you do that?” he asked when they were alone again.
“Yew are my friend, are yew knot? He was knot being nice to yew.”
Jumper thought about that, and concluded that he liked this woodwife even better than before. In due course they intercepted the enchanted path. Once they stepped on it, other threats faded, knowing they couldn’t do anything. That was a relief.
“Now all we have to dew is follow this until we reach the Good Magician’s Castle,” Wenda said confidently. Jumper wondered whether it could be that simple. He really didn’t quite trust this odd realm. He wished there were a magic path leading back to his own realm.
Sure enough, they had hardly started walking along the enchanted path when a large bird coasted in for a landing before them. “What is that?” Jumper asked as the thing braked to a sliding stop on the path, blocking their way.
“Oh my hollow head!” Wenda exclaimed. “It’s a stork!”
“There is something wrong with a stork?”
“Knot exactly. They deliver babies.”
“Small humans? Why would they do that?”
“It’s complicated to explain. Just be satisfied that the stork has no business with us.”
“It looks as if it has business,” Jumper said. For the bird was walking toward them.
“I’d better talk to it,” Wenda said. “There’s been some mistake.”
The stork hailed them. “Greetings, fair nymph, monster spider.”
“We dew knot want any,” Wenda said. “I never even let a lout touch me.”
“I am not looking for you, nymph. I am looking for Maeve Maenad. There’s a special delivery for her.”
“A maenad?” Wenda asked, astonished. “They dew knot signal storks!
They’re wild bloodthirsty bare women who would as soon bite a man to death as kiss him.”
“That may be the case,” the stork agreed, “but we received a definite signal from one of them, and the delivery must be made. I am the supervisor, here to resolve an awkward situation. It is very unusual to lose a potential mother. Have you seen her?”
“We have knot,” Wenda said. “And we hope knot to. Maenads are dangerous.”
“Thank you. But keep an eye out for her.” The stork re oriented, ran down the path, spread his wings, and finally managed to take off. In two and a half moments he disappeared into the sky.
“Keep an eye out?” Jumper asked.
“The bird wants us to keep on eye on the maenad, in case she shows up.”
“I have eight eyes, but I need them all. I don’t want to put one on anyone.”
She smiled. “That is knot literal. Knot in this case. It just means to watch for her.”
“Oh.” Jumper was relieved. “So we have to look for her?”
“Knot really. We dew knot want to find her. But maybee she will bee like an inanimate object.”
“How is that?”
“They always hide in the last place yew look for them.”
Jumper was confused again. This was one really strange realm! “So let’s not look.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
Jumper was glad that was settled, and that he didn’t have to risk any of his eyes looking for something they did not want to find. They resumed walking. “That’s weird,” Wenda said. “A stork looking for a maenad. There must be a glitch in their paperwork.”
So it seemed it wasn’t quite done with. “I am not clear what this is about.”
“Oh. That’s right. I guess yew wood knot know. Yew see, sometimes two humans— a boy and a girl, usually— get together and signal the stork, in that way telling it they want a baby. The signal goes out in the form of an ellipsis. That’s three dots loaded with significance. The stork bureaucracy is very inefficient, and it takes them anywhere up to nine months to deliver the baby. They follow the path of the dots back, locate the mother, and give it to her.”
“You’re right. That does seem complicated.”
“But maenads dew knot signal the stork. They use their sex appeal to lure men close so they can pounce on them and bite them to death. Even most village louts know better than to get close to one of those bloodthirsty creatures. So it’s ridiculous for a stork to try to deliver to a maenad. It has to bee a mistake.”
“It must be,” Jumper agreed. This realm was proving to be every bit as weird as it first seemed.
“Oh, there’s a campsite,” Wenda exclaimed. “Let’s stop there.”
“There is something there we want?”
“Food. Rest.”
Jumper realized that he was getting tired, and certainly he was hungry. He hoped there would be fat bugs there. They entered the camp. It was very nice, with all manner of pie plants, and a pleasant shelter.
And there was a beefsteak tomato plant. Jumper picked a beefsteak and brought it to his mandibles. It was delicious. One of the pie plants had a shoe-fly pie; he threw away the shoe and ate the fly. This camp was all right.
Meanwhile Wenda found a small acorn tree and chewed on several acorns. Jumper remembered that she was made of wood, so must need wood food to sustain her substance. He wasn’t sure how she assimilated it, because her mouth opened on emptiness inside, but concluded that was her business.
They entered the shelter. There was a bloodcurdling scream. Jumper fell back, as curdled blood didn’t work well for his system.
“Someone’s in there,” Wenda said. “A girl. She must have thought yew were going to eat her.”
“Actually I prefer fat bugs.”
“I will talk to her.” Wenda went on in.
Jumper inspected the adjacent pond. Something leaped out of it and sailed through the air. Jumper snagged it with a loop of web and reeled it in: a flying fish. So he stripped away the ing fish and ate the fly. Yes, this would do.
Wenda emerged. “This is complicated,” she said. “Yew had better come in and listen. I have told her yew are knot for eating.”
She seemed to have it garbled, but he let it be. “Told who?”
“It’s Maeve Maenad,” she whispered. “Hiding from the stork.”
He was astonished. “The one we didn’t see! We should inform that stork.”
“No. That wood be telling.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yew woodn’t. Take my word: storkly secrets are knot bruited about. We must help her.”
“But you said maenads are dangerous.”
“They are, normally. But Maeve has become a maiden in distress. That’s different. I am similar, in my fashion. I must help her if I can.”
Jumper clicked his mandibles in perplexity. It remained a very strange realm. “So we help her.”
“Yes. We’ll take her to the Good Magician, since we’re going that way anyway, so she can ask him how to escape the stork. Meanwhile we’ll have to hide her from the stork. That’s why we need to hear her story. So we know exactly how to help her.”
What could he do? “We listen,” he agreed.
They entered the shelter. This time there was no scream. There was a succulent morsel of a bare girl, with wild hair and a feral smile.
“Jumper, this is Maeve Maenad,” Wenda said. “Maeve, this is Jumper Spider. We are meeting in peace.”
“Peaches and cream!” Maeve swore. “He’s mouthwateringly fat.”
“And she’s saliva-dribbling fleshy,” Jumper replied. He realized that Wenda had not misspoken when she said he was not for eating: the wild woman really would have attacked him. Of course then he would have bitten her head off and sucked out its juice. It was a nice head, surely very tasty.
“Yew both wood like to eat the other,” Wenda said. “Yew must knot. We need to get along together.”
“Why?” Maeve asked. Jumper couldn’t have put it better himself.
“Because yew both need to see the Good Magician, and yew can get there better together.”
Maeve sighed, making her body jiggle in a truly appetizing way. Her flesh, unlike Wenda’s, was edible. “If we must, we must.”
“Now tell us yewr story,” Wenda said. “So we can figure out how to help yew.”
Maeve grimaced, then launched into it, while they listened. She was dropped into the central pool of bloodred wine with a resounding splash, with her name tag tied to her wild hair: Maeve, she who intoxicates. She immediately gulped some of the wine and got drunk and vicious: a true maenad. Gorged on wine, she soon grew into the flower of her wildness, racing with the other maenads to capture, tear apart, and consume any creature that strayed near Mount Parnassus. Especially anything male.
But as she grew older, reaching her teens, she discovered a new aspect of her situation. Her body changed, becoming thicker through the hips, thinner through the waist, and developing mounds on her chest. At first she was disgusted, because it made her slower when running; her proportions had become ungainly, and the flesh on her chest flopped at high speeds. Then she happened to see a picture of a woman left by a man who had been routinely consumed, and it was just like that. It seemed that men really liked to see that awkward flesh on women. A bulb flashed over her head as she understood.
Maenads weren’t just wild women, they were sexy wild women. That was why human males came to their region. She wasn’t sure what a man actually wanted to do with a maenad if he caught her, because they always chased down and tore apart any men they spied, biting off gobbets of hot flesh and swallowing them in a feeding frenzy. That was, after all, the purpose of a man, wasn’t it? To be torn up and eaten. But it annoyed her when an occasional man was wary, and fled before the maenads could run him down. Perfectly good meat going to waste. So she experimented. Once when she spied a man near the fringe of the mountain, and he spied her, she didn’t run after him with spittle flying. She stood and watched him. He came closer, eyeing her warily. He obviously knew her nature.
But he did not come all the way up to her. He got ner vous, and was about to turn to go. That was when she might have run him down and bitten his leg to lame him, so that she could then finish him off at leisure. He represented a huge meal she might have all to herself. But instead she lifted her arms, put her hands on her head, and half turned. This had the effect of outlining her chest, a body part he seemed to be looking at. He did look, and took a step toward her, licking his lips. But then he hesitated again, justifiably ner vous about getting too close. So she inhaled. That made her chest expand, and her mounds stood out. The man’s eyes glazed over and he panted. But then he shook himself, tore his eyes away, leaving tatters of eyelids behind, and started to turn away.
So she turned away herself, pretending she wasn’t chasing him. With luck he would be deceived, and then she could whirl and pounce. But there was another effect. He stared at her bottom, and this time his eyes completely glazed. He had freaked out.
Good enough. She whirled and pounced, catching him before he could recover his sight and flee. She tore a bite from his neck, then landed on his back as he collapsed on the ground. Soon she was tearing delicious gobbets of flesh out and gulping them down. Before long there was little left of him except bones, and her belly was so full she had to go hide in a tree to digest it all. What a successful hunt!
While she digested, she reviewed the pro cess by which she had caught him. Her chest had almost done it, but in the end her bottom had finished it. Why these things should so fascinate a man she didn’t know, but philosophy was not her forte. She just wanted to know what worked. Chests worked, bottoms worked. But could they be improved upon?
When she was lean and mobile again, she went to spy on a human house hold beyond the maenad demesnes. It wasn’t safe to hunt here; the humans were too likely to cut off her retreat and slaughter her. But she might learn something useful just by watching. She did. She saw a farm girl eyeing a passing village lout. Evidently the girl was interested in the lout. Maybe she was hungry. But the lout was too stupid to pay attention, and was walking on.
“Hey, lout!” the girl called.
“Huh?” he asked, turning to look at her.
She turned away from him, pulled up her skirt, and flashed her panties. The lout was stunned. He just stood there, eyes glazed, until the girl dropped her skirt and went inside her house. He remained for some time, like a statue, until finally a wood-bee sat on his nose, startling him back into activity. He departed, trailing crumbs of glaze as his eyeballs recovered.
This was a revelation to Maeve. So it was clothing that did it! Panties freaked out men. She went to a small pantree and harvested a panty. She put it on, then admired herself in the reflection of a pond. It did do something for her bottom. It could be a secret weapon.
She took it off and hid it away, because it wouldn’t be secret if the other maenads caught on. Then when she was alone, and spied a man, she used it. He freaked out just like that, and she had no trouble catching and eating him. Thereafter she became the most successful huntress of her kind, though still a teen. The other maenads were jealous, but couldn’t figure out how she did it. She made sure never to use the panty when any other maenad was near.
There was only one mishap. That was when she flashed a man, and he came to her, and she bit at his throat— and bounced off. So she bit at his arm, and missed again. Finally she bit at his leg, but still got nowhere.
“Sweet violets!” she swore. “What is wrong?”
The man shook his head sadly. “Nothing with you, maenad. It’s me. My magic talent is to have an impenetrable shield that prevents any living creature and most inanimate things from touching me. It is the bane of my existence.”
“Then how do you eat and drink?” she demanded, hoping to find an avenue she could exploit to get at his flesh.
“It lets in only food, water, and air— that sort of thing. So I survive. But it won’t let me touch a woman, so I can’t kiss her or do anything else with her.”
“So why did you come to me?”
“I hoped that the savagery of a maenad would be too much for the shield, and we could touch maybe just enough. Alas, it’s not so.”
“Just enough for what?”
“You don’t know? Ah, maenad, your prison may be as bad as mine. I suppose I will just have to go to petition the Good Magician for an Answer.”
And with that mysterious remark he turned and walked away. She hadn’t even learned his name, not that she cared about that. Fortunately that was the only balk. She was able to satisfy her hunger with other men. But still she wondered: who or what was this Good Magician? Was he edible? By the time she emerged from her teens, she was not only truly full figured from her excellent diet, she was in contention to become the leader of the maenads, because of her hunting prowess. She was really proud of herself.
Then came disaster. It started simply enough. If only she had known!
It was a handsome man who came to drink at the maenads’ wine spring. He came when the other maenads were out hunting, and only Maeve remained to guard the spring. This was no coincidence, she learned later— way too late. He had come then because he was interested in her. She stood before him in all her bare splendor. He gazed at every detail, but his eyes did not glaze. He seemed to be immune. So she donned her panty and turned her back. But while she was doing that, he was donning dark glasses, that fudged the image so it was too vague to freak him out.
She tried moving her body in the ways that normally affected men. He watched, evidently appreciating it, but still not freaking out. This was most frustrating!
Then he spoke. “Hello, lovely nymph! I am Harbinger, a binge drinking messenger with some harpy ancestry. Who are you?”
She was so surprised that she answered. “I am Maeve Maenad. Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“Because I came prepared, knowing that otherwise you would tear out chunks of my living flesh. You are far too lovely to be wasted that way. Know, O delightful damsel, that wine dulls my vision so that I can’t freak out.”
“Then why do you need those glasses?”
He smiled. “I don’t. They are merely a prop.” He removed the glasses and gazed at her, unfreaking.
Her amazement continued. “What do you want of me?”
“I want what any man wants of a beautiful woman.”
This was stupid, but he was so handsome that she really wanted to know. “What is that?”
“Love.”
“I don’t know that word.”
“Then I will be glad to teach you its meaning. Come with me, Maeve, and we will make beautiful music together.”
“I don’t know anything about music.”
He laughed, as if she had said something fully. “You don’t need to. Come.” He started walking away from the pool. And such was her bemusement, she walked with him. After all, she could pounce on him and tear him apart any time, as long as he remained close. After she satisfied her curiosity.
He led her o’er hill and dale to an unfamiliar glade with its own pleasant pool. “Let us swim together,” he said, removing his human clothing.
“Swim?” That was his idea of love? Swimming was something a maenad did to catch a person trying to escape across water.
“It is a pleasant diversion. We can get close together in the water.”
She stared at his bared body. What a handsome specimen he was, with firm lean meat on his arms and chest! Her mouth was watering already. And of course he would be easier than ever to catch in the water. She removed her panty, because water wasn’t good for it, and waded into the water with him. He reached out and took her hand, and she let him.
And something odd happened. Suddenly she was overflowing with an emotion she had never remotely experienced before. She stepped into Harbinger and kissed him. A real kiss; she didn’t even try to bite. That was quite unlike her. Unlike any maenad.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she delighted in that touch. He was right: it was fun being close together in the water. But also very strange. She found herself with urges she had never experienced before.
And he was indulging them. They had a gloriously weird experience together, amazingly pleasant. Then it was done, what ever it was. He separated from her. “Thanks, Maeve. It’s been fun. Now I’ll be on my way.”
On his way? “But I have just gotten interested in you,” she protested.
“Get over it.” He dried, donned his clothing, and walked away. She stood chest deep in the pond, staring after him. What had happened? She hadn’t even tried to bite him, let alone tear out any of his flesh. She had just hugged him and done something oddly new, and now he was gone.
Finally she waded out of the pool, picked up her panty, and walked back home to the wine pool.
The other maenads had returned. “Where were you?” one demanded.
“The spring was unguarded.”
“A—a man took me away,” Maeve said haltingly. “To a pool.”
“And you didn’t tear him apart?”
“No.”
“What did you do, then? Club him to death and hide the body so we couldn’t share the meat?”
“I—I kissed him. And swam with him. And hugged him. Sort of.”
They stared at her in shock. Then an older maenad asked an irrelevant question. “Exactly where was this pool?”
Maeve pointed. “That way.”
The maenad nodded. “That’s a love spring.”
“A what?”
“Water that makes any male and any female fall in love with each other, at least for a while, and signal the stork.”
Maeve was appalled. So that was what they had done! “Why, that miserable deceiver! I didn’t know.”
The older maenad sighed. “It’s not the sort of thing our kind normally knows about. He tricked you into it, then had his way with you. You should never have trusted him.”
“I didn’t trust him! I was going to eat him.”
“Well, let’s hope the stork didn’t get the signal.”
They resumed their normal existence. But unfortunately the stork had gotten the message, and just about nine months after the incident came looking for her. Her worst fear had materialized. Maeve fled. The other maenads, understanding her horror, tried to cover for her, pretending that she was still among them. But the stork wasn’t fooled. It knew exactly which maenad it wanted. When it didn’t find her by the love spring, it widened its search.
“And now wherever I go, that stork is close behind,” Maeve concluded.
“I can’t let it catch me.”
“We’ll take yew to the Good Magician,” Wenda said. “He’ll know what yew can dew about it.”
“The Good Magician!” Maeve exclaimed. “I have heard that name. Who is he?”
“He is a gnome who solves people’s problems, for a price,” Wenda explained. “Yew have a problem. He will know how to make that stork stop pestering yew.”
“But I can’t go outside by day! The stork is watching.”
“We’ll hide yew. Make yew look like someone else. Knot a maenad. So the stork will knot recognize yew.”
Maeve began to have hope. “Not a maenad,” she repeated. Jumper was impressed. Wenda truly seemed to care about other people, even spiders and bloodthirsty wild women. As a spider he had never really liked or disliked anyone else, but now he was coming to like Wenda more than ever. Friendship. That was an unfamiliar but actually rather pleasant feeling. If she was right, the Good Magician would solve all three of their problems.
They worked on Maeve. Wenda sent Jumper out to harvest assorted clothing, while she worked on Maeve’s wild hair. When Jumper returned with a pile of apparel, he almost didn’t recognize the maenad. Her hair was now neatly coiffed, in the manner of a human girl, and she looked oddly pretty. He could almost understand why a human man might want to kiss her, if he could safely do so.
When they added her clothing, she looked totally different. Her savage beauty was muted. Except for her teeth, which were sharply pointed, for tearing flesh. There seemed to be no way to hide those, unless she kept her mouth perpetually closed.
Then Jumper found a wax tooth plant, and harvested an upper and a lower set. Maeve put these under her lips, and had a beautiful set of slightly protruding unpointed teeth. She couldn’t talk very well with them in, but maybe she wouldn’t need to.
“We can tell strangers yew’re very shy,” Wenda decided. “And with those wax teeth in, yew won’t bee able to bite anyone, if yew happen to forget. Yew can knot afford to act like a maenad.”
“Mmmph!” Maeve said angrily.
“She’s right,” Jumper said. “You need to be nothing like a maenad. You must be a nice, sweet, innocent human girl.”
Maeve spat out her teeth. “And suppose a lout makes a move on me?” she demanded. “Wanting to get another stork chasing me?”
Wenda exchanged a glance with one of Jumper’s eyes. “Then Jumper may have to throw him away,” Wenda said. “But meanwhile yew must bee a helpless maiden without a bloodthirsty thought in yewr dainty little head.”
“Growr!” Maeve growled, jamming the teeth back in. At least she understood the necessity.
They settled down for the night, the two maidens sleeping on either side of Jumper, trusting him to protect them. He felt oddly flattered.
