Crewel Lye Read Online Free Page A

another Answer.”
    Humfrey stared at her belligerently. “What kind of logic is that, woman?”
    “Female logic, of course,” she informed him. “Want to make something of it?” Ivy already had a fair notion how to handle men, even those who could not readily be charmed.
    “Um, no,” Humfrey said. “Some distant day you're going to be King of Xanth, may the Demon have mercy on that day.”
    “I already know that, dummy, so watch your step.” She had learned about firmness from her mother, just as she had learned about pedestals from her father. It would never do to let any man get the upper hand. As Irene had muttered ominously, there was no telling where he might put it.
    “Okay, okay, where's your Question?” Humfrey asked grumpily.
    “I need something to clean up the magic tapestry so Jordan the Ghost can remember.”
    Another person might have had difficulty grasping this, but Humfrey, young as he was, was the Magician of Information. He had had over a century of experience before being accidentally youthened back to babyhood, along with Stanley Steamer; now his power was returning, as was his irascible nature.
    Humfrey pondered a moment, then brightened. “The Big Book should have it,” he exclaimed. Ivy knew that some people claimed there was no such thing as a Big Book of Answers for all Questions, but those people had never seen Humfrey's study. The Good Magician went over to a table where a huge tome rested, and he scrambled up on the high stool to reach it. He turned the ancient pages. “Good thing I've learned to read again,” he grumped as he pored over the fine print. “Tables...tadpoles...tailspins...talismen...tangle trees...tapestry! Nature of. History of, Present Location of. Abuse of--aha! Cleaning of!”
    “That's it!” Ivy exclaimed.
    “Quiet, woman, while I'm researching,” he snapped.
    Ivy opened her mouth to retort suitably, but decided to restrain herself until Humfrey produced the Answer. Timing was important when dealing with men, as her mother had said. Anyway, it was no insult to be called “woman.” She was glad he hadn't paused to read the entry under “Abuse of” because that very well might mention the wiping-off or laying-on of hands on its surface, which would be awkward to explain.
    “Use crewel lye,” he read. “Recipe as follows: half a tumbler of--”
    “Wait, I can't remember a whole recipe!” Ivy protested. “I have trouble remembering the recipe for hard-boiling an egg! I need a written copy--and no big words.” Ivy was learning to read, but preferred words like “Fun” and “Joy” to ones like “Delinquent” or “Punishment.”
    Humfrey blew air through his cheeks, exactly as he would when a century or so older. “Then fetch me that copy-cat.”
    Ivy looked where he pointed. In a corner sat a creature like a contracted caterpillar, with only four legs, one tail, and several long whiskers. It looked rounded, furry, and soft, but evinced an attitude of independence and aloofness.
    She went and tried to pick up the creature, but it sort of slid through her hands and remained on its soft pillar. She tried to haul it up by the tail, but its eyes glowed in yellow slits, claws sprang out from its paws, and it yowled, so she desisted. It certainly was a strange animal!
    Then Ivy tried another system. She walked in front of it. “Here, copy, copy, copy, copy!” she called. And the copy-cat came, walking exactly the way Ivy was walking.
    When they reached the table, she pointed to its surface. “Jump, copy!” She jumped herself, to show how it was done, and the copy-cat jumped. But it jumped just the way she did, up and down on the floor.
    So Ivy scrambled up on the table herself, to the Good Magician's annoyance. “Up!” she called, and the copycat scrambled up beside her.
    “Don't stand on the pages!” Humfrey cried, grabbing the copy-cat and plunking it down on the page. “Copy that copy, cat.”
    The cat sat on the crewel lye recipe. It