The Color Of Her Panties by Piers Anthony Page B

character in the realm of Xanth, but some were more important than others.  All of them suffered sundry travails, but the main characters had a much better record of survival and success than did the throwaway characters.  Most ogres were obviously throwaways, which was why their lives were so wretched.  But if she could somehow manage to become important, then her fortune would take care of itself.
    The night had brightened into day, and the day had darkened into night, several times during the course of these deliberations.  Still she hadn't gotten there, and she was beginning to get somewhat tired and hungry.  But she was afraid that if she stopped rowing, she would get distracted and never get there.
    Then there was a horrendous bump.  She had gotten there!  But when she looked around she discovered that it was only a bare shore; there was no Magician's castle in sight.  “Oh, everything's going wrong!“ she exclaimed. “I'll never find the Good Magician!”
    “Hello.”
    Startled, Okra screamed and leaped into the air.  She came down on her feet outside the boat, halfway frazzled.
    She hadn't realized that anyone was close.
    It turned out to be a merwoman in nymph form named Mela.  They talked, and decided to cross the lake-it was now the Kiss-Mee-together, because Okra had the boat and Mela knew where to go.  Okra tossed the boat back into the water and they started off.  Okra rowed vigorously, having recovered some strength during the brief pause, and encouraged because now there was someone to show the way.
    Mela was saying something, but Okra couldn't hear over the sound of her rowing.  But when her thoughts had run their course, catching her up to the vicinity of the present, she became aware of something else:  the sky was darkening.  Was it night already?  No, it was a big thick cloud getting ready to rain on them.  Well, a little rain wouldn't hurt, unless it filled the boat.  Maybe it would be better to go to land and wait out the storm, as they would not make much progress in a storm.
    She paused in her rowing.  “Do you think we should-?”
    she inquired.
    “Too late!” Mela cried.  A gust of wind chose that moment to blow her hair halfway across her face.  “Fracto has cut off our retreat.
    “Fracto?”
    “King Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, the worst of clouds.  He always makes trouble.”
    “But ogres like trouble!”
    “Can you swim?”
    “No.”
    “Then you won't like Fracto's kind of trouble.”
    She had a point.  Okra tried to turn the boat around and row toward shore, but the wind gusted up hugely and blew them the opposite way.  Now she saw that the cloud had formed a big misty mouth and was blowing right at them.
    The wind was whipping up the waves, which were becoming mountainous.
    Rain started, first a few fierce drops, then a drenchpour.
    “Eeeek!” Mela screamed, pulling her bare legs up.
    “Fresh water!”
    “What's wrong with that?”
    “I'm a saltwater creature.  Fresh water foozles my tail.”
    “But you're wearing legs.”
    “I don't know how to swim with legs.  Anyway, it foozles my skin, too.”
    Indeed, her skin was getting all blotchy where the rainwater was striking it.
    Okra tried to scoop out the water in the boat with her hands, but it was coming in too fast.  So she grabbed her oars again.  “Maybe we can get somewhere,” she said.
    Mela looked doubtful, but whatever she was trying to say was lost in the howl of the wind and roar of the waves.
    Okra saw a huge wave looming, trying to swamp them, but she managed to heave the boat forward enough to elude it and ride its swell after it settled a little.  Waves could be handled; they were like dragons-not too bad if closely watched and tackled from behind.
    But it just got worse.  Sheets of water swept across, making Mela scream piercingly enough to be heard even above the storm, and filled the boat rapidly.  Okra couldn't row; she had to bail.  So she shipped the oars and started scooping