"(ebook) Anthony Piers - Xanth 10 - Vale Of The Vole" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

Chapter 1. Metria

It wasn't always easy, being the son of an ogre and a nymph. Sometimes the ogre started smashing things just for the joy of it, or squeezing the juice from stones one-handed, making an awful mess. Sometimes the nymph was rather empty-minded, or threw a tantrum. That was why Esk had made this cosy hideout that no one else knew about. Whenever things became too difficult at home, he came here to relax and unwind. He loved his parents, but there was virtue in solitude too.

He paused to look about and listen carefully. He didn't want any creature of Xanth, tame or wild, seeing him enter, because then the location would be no secret, and sooner or later his folks would learn of it, and his privacy would be lost.

His hideout was in the hollow trunk of a dead beerbarrel tree. He had been lucky: he had been in the vicinity in the month of AwGhost, when barrel trees gave up the ghost if they were going to, and had seen the spirit departing. "Aw, Ghost!" he had exclaimed in the classic ogre manner, and that had enchanted the tree so that he could take over the busk without creating a local commotion. He had cut a door in the fat trunk that sealed tightly so that it didn't show from outside, and made vents so that the steamy beer smell could dissipate; his mother, Tandy, would never understand if he came home reeking of beer! Then he had set straw in the bottom, and brought in pillows from a nearby pillow bush, and carved decorative scenes in the walls, and made it perfect. He was rather proud of himself; his only regret was that he could not afford to boast of his accomplishment, because of the necessity for secrecy.

All seemed clear. He hooked his nails into the crevice and pulled the door open. It was a small door, with an irregular outline, so that its contour was not obvious. He ducked down to step through, then drew it carefully closed behind. He stepped across the floor and dropped onto his nest of pillows.

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"Ouch!"

Esk jumped. "Who said that?" he demanded.

"Get your fat mule off me!" The voice came from below.

He looked but saw only pillows. "My fat what?"

"Your fat donkey!" the voice snapped. "Pony, horse, jackass, whatever Чoffl"

Esk finally got a glimmer of the word that was being sought. He got quickly off the pillows. "Where are you?"

The pillow shifted outline. A mouth formed in its center. "Here, you oaf! What did you think you were doing, putting gross anatomy like that in my face?"

"Well, IЧ"

"Never mind. Just don't do it again, moron."

"But pillows are supposed to beЧ"

"Oh? Did you ever ask the pillows' opinion about that?"

"Well, actually, no, butЧ"

"So there, imbecile! Now get out and let me sleep."

Esk got out. Then, as he wended his way home, he pondered. How had he been able to talk to a pillow? He knew of only one person who could talk to an object, and that was the King of Xanth, Dor. Since it was generally understood that talents did not repeat, except in the case of the curse fiends, that meant that it wouldn't be Esk's talent. Beside that, he already had a talent: that of protesting. Sometimes his mother said he protested too much, but she did not deny it was magic. Since no one had two magic talents, that, too, eliminated the possibility of talking to inanimate things.

Finally he worked it out. He was not the smartest person, being quarter ogre, but he never let go of a problem, being half human, and usually was able to come to some kind of settlement, however crude. It wasn't his magic, but the pillow's magic. He must have picked a special pillow, without realizing: one that was alive. All he needed to do was take it back out to the pillow bush and exchange it for another, and his problem would be solved.

Reassured, he continued on toward home, having forgotten whatever problem had brought him to his hideout. As he neared it he smelled the delicious odor of purple bouillon. That meant that his father, Smash, had gone into his full ogre guise and foraged for the makings. Smash was actually only half ogre, for Esk's grandparents on that side had been Crunch Ogre and an actress from the curse fiends. But when Smash got ogreish, no one could tell him from a full ogre; he swelled up horren-dously and burst out of his trousers. Tandy, however, being of nymphly

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stock, preferred Smash as a man, so usually that was what he seemed to be.

Esk could not voluntarily turn ogre, but when he got mad enough or desperate enough he did develop some ogre strength. It never lasted long, but of course it didn't need to; one strike by an ogreishly-powered fist could pulverize the trunk of a rock maple tree. Similarly, he was normally inept at acting, but when he really had to he could become temporarily proficient. That was his heritage from his curse fiend grandmother. Most of the time it was his human heritage that dominated, since he was part human through both of his parents. He was a pretty ordinary person, with gray eyes and nondescript brown hair. He often wished he were otherwise, but really had no choice; he was obviously not destined for any sort of greatness.