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babies.”
    “We need to talk with the stork who didn't deliver Surprise Golem's baby,” Che said.
    “That is hard to believe. We always deliver.”
    “He balked on a technicality,” Surprise said angrily.
    The stork produced a tablet with a long list. “Name?”
    “Stymy Stork,” Surprise said.
    The stork sighed. “Naturally it would be him.”
    “He makes a habit of not delivering babies?” she asked sharply.
    “A habit of fouling up. He is on probation. I wish he would go away too.”
    “So he said. He refused to deliver my baby because he thought I was too young. He followed a stupid rule.”
    The stork eyed her. “You look like a mature filly or young mare to me.”
    “I am. But there is a confusion in the records.”
    “And you are?”
    “Surprise Golem. I am presently in another form.”
    The stork checked pages. “Surprise Golem,” he read. “Age thirteen, according to date of delivery.”
    “That's the error. I was delivered five years late. I am eighteen.”
    “Five years late? That is highly irregular. This will have to be reviewed by headquarters. Supervisor Stork will decide. Then you can go away.”
    “Meanwhile please bring Stymy Stork to us,” Che said.
    The stork nodded. “That I can do.” He flipped more pages, found the name, and tapped on it with a feather. A small pattern of dots flew out and disappeared. “There will be a brief delay. In the interim I must identify the other members of your party for our records.”
    “I am Che Centaur,” Che said.
    “Of course; you are generally known. But who are the children? Kindly name them with their ages for ready verification.” He had his list poised.
    Surprise established an adult Glare to keep the children from making smart-bottom remarks as she identified them. “Demon Ted, age ten.” She paused as the stork checked the list, which was evidently comprehensive. “DeMonica, age ten.” Pause. “Woe Betide, age five.”
    Stifle's feathers stiffened. “Who?”
    “Woe Betide. She is—”
    “We have no record of ever delivering that child.”
    “That's because I was never delivered, your Storkship,” Woe piped up. “I am the child aspect of the demoness Metria.”
    “The perpetual word-tangling mischief maker! We don't want your kind here.”
    “She is locked into the child mode,” Che said quickly. “Woe Betide is sweet and innocent.”
    “I find that hard to believe.”
    “So do we,” Che said with a smile. “But it seems to be so.”
    “Very well, I suppose. I will make a special note.” Then the stork did a double take. “Demon Ted: there is an asterisk by that name.”
    “What did you call me, feather-head?” Ted demanded.
    “Asterisk is not a bad word,” Che said. “It simply means there is an additional note about you.”
    “And what a note,” Stifle said. “You are notorious. In one of the alternate realms you discovered a stork resting after a delivery and slipped a sliver of reverse wood in among its feathers. Thereafter that stork delivered several babies to the wrong parents. It became a huge mess. When we tried to correct it, some parents were attached to their wrong babies and refused to give them up. Finally the demon Xanth had to intervene, and the Stork Works got a black mark.” He paused, for Ted and Monica were rolling on the floor laughing.
    “But that wasn't in this reality,” Surprise said quickly. “He wouldn't do that here.”
    “Sure I would,” Ted said gleefully. “What a great joke.”
    “He didn't do that here,” Surprise said, wasting another glare on the unpenitent boy. “It was surely a fluke.”
    “Hardly that,” Stifle said grimly. “In another alternate he participated in a hostile takeover of the Stork Works. That truly smells.”
    “But not this reality,” Surprise repeated.
    “Perhaps true,” Stifle agreed dubiously. “But he is banned from those realities where he committed those crimes.”
    “Aw, who cares?” Ted asked.
    “We do,” Che said