Bink carefully wrote in his: Gap Chasm. The others followed his example. Since no destination had been spoken, they hoped the Pewter wouldn’t catch on.
Then they saw the print on the screen: RED TAPE PREVENTS THE USE OF THE PASSPORTS.
Now they saw the red tape. Festoons of it were floating down from the ceiling. Streamers settled about them, and soon they were buried in the stuff. It didn’t hurt them; it merely entangled them so that they could hardly move. It was difficult even to see their passports, because of the crisscrossing strands of ribbon.
“Evidently Pewter has learned something about Mundania,” Bink muttered, disgruntled.
They struggled to free themselves of the tape. The stuff tore readily, but by the time they got it all clear, the passports had been lost in the shuffle.
“Let’s find another passage out,” Chester said. “One too broad to be blocked by plants.”
“Enter,” Grundy said. “They find a broad, clean passage, clear of plants and all other barriers. Execute.”
The passage manifested on the other side. Of course this one led further into the mountain, but it was broad and nice.
But the screen printed: THEY HEAR AN AWFUL ROAR, AND REALIZE THAT A FIRE-BREATHING DRAGON IS COMING DOWN IT.
The ensuing roar was indeed awful! “We can’t go up that passage!” Grundy said.
“Unless we find a way to deal with the dragon,” Bink pointed out.
“What would scare off a dragon?” Grundy asked.
“A basilisk,” Chester said.
Good idea! “Enter,” Grundy said. “A basilisk walks up the passage toward the dragon, glaring about. Execute.”
The little reptile appeared. The direct glare of a basilisk could kill another creature, even a dragon.
BUT THE BASILISK CHANGES ITS MIND AND STARTS BACK TOWARD THE GROUP, the screen said.
“Oopsy!” Grundy breathed. “Enter: The basilisk remembers where it was going, and heads back up the passage, tuning out all distractions. Execute.”
The others relaxed as the nasty little reptile resumed its progress; surely Pewter couldn’t change that.
AS IT ROUNDS THE FIRST TURN, the screen printed, IT ENCOUNTERS A MIRROR, AND STARES ITSELF IN THE FACE.
Naturally when that happened, the little monster fell dead, for no basilisk was proof against its own fatal stare.
“Nevertheless,” Bink murmured, “we now have the initiative, because we retain the tunnel.”
There was another roar. “And the tunnel retains the dragon,” Chester said, touching his bow nervously.
“Ah, but we also have the mirror,” Bink pointed out. “Pick it up, turn it around, and it will confound the dragon the same way it confounded the basilisk.”
“We can try it, certainly,” Grundy agreed. “Enter: The centaur picks up the mirror, turns it about, and proceeds up the tunnel. When the dragon sees its reflection in the mirror, it will think that is another dragon, and will back off.”
They watched the screen to see whether they had finally foiled the machine. They had not.
THERE IS THE SOUND OF RUSHING WATER, the screen printed. A RIVER IS DRAINING INTO THE PASSAGE, AND WILL WASH EVERYTHING OUT BEFORE IT.
They weren’t getting anywhere. Every time they made a move, Pewter countered it. Yet Bink seemed positive.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “they have some worse monsters in Mundania than in Xanth. Some of the birds, especially. We have ogres and ogresses, and dragons and dragonesses, and the like. But I remember one there called the egret, that had a long yellow beak. If we could get one of those on our side—”
“What good would that do?” Grundy asked. “The machine would just counter it. We need to get out of here, not play with birds!”
“I suppose so,” Bink agreed. “And you never can tell what those birds will do. The female of the species is twice as bad as the male; if we ever encountered a female egret we’d be lost.”
What was he getting at? Of course they wouldn’t summon a female egret! “Let’s just try to open another door out—one that can’t be blocked by plants or dragons or water,” Grundy said.
“Yes, I suppose that’s best,” Bink agreed. “Let’s protect it against plants and dragons and water.”
“And egrets,” Chester put in.
“And egrets,” Bink agreed.
“Enter,” Grundy said. “They discover a new passage, with no bad plants, no dragons, no water and no egrets. It leads straight outside. Execute.”
The new passage appeared. It looked perfect.
But the screen was ready. AND THERE, it printed dramatically, IS AN EGRESS!
And a big bird with a swordlike yellow beak appeared. It took one menacing step toward them.
“Oops,” Grundy said, dismayed. “I forgot to exclude the female of the species!”
“But the female is not an egress,” Bink said smugly. “Pewter just assumed that, applying logic to the name. An egress is actually a form of exit.”
“A form of exit?” Grundy asked. “But there’s the bird!”
“Egrets, male or female, are harmless,” Bink said. “We won’t take our turn to abolish it. All we have to do is walk out the true egress.” And he led the way.
The Pewter was helpless, for it could not act until they made another entry and gave it its turn. They simply marched physically out the egress, ignoring the bird.
A roll of confused symbols crossed the screen. //<<>>±±^^XX¿¿. Then it got its mechanism straight. CURSES, the screen printed. FOILED AGAIN!
They had escaped—but somehow Grundy wasn’t completely satisfied. Bink had found the way out. Bink was the true hero of this episode. He, Grundy, had failed again; he remained a nonentity. He had suffered almost as bad a setback as Pewter had.
4
Mystery of the Voles
They camped for the day in the thick of the jungle. Bink still seemed unconcerned about predators, and felt no need for a watch for the night. Grundy was glad not to have to stay awake, but felt obliged to grouch about it anyway. “What makes you so sure there’s no danger?” he demanded. “We almost got stuck forever in that cave!”
“No we didn’t,” Bink said. “We got out readily enough.”
“That was a lucky break! If Com-Pewter hadn’t gotten confused about the female egret—”
“There would have been something else. We would have gotten out one way or another, unharmed. Meanwhile, we had an interesting experience and learned something about another entity of Xanth. I think that was worthwhile.”
Grundy shook his head, bemused. Bink seemed to be living in a fool’s paradise, trusting to coincidence to rescue him from his own folly. It was true that the man did seem to have phenomenal luck, but luck could turn at any time. It might be best not to associate with him longer than he had to, because eventually they were bound to find themselves in a situation they could not escape.
But he needed Bink and Chester to carry the bed. Grundy was not happy with the present arrangement, for several reasons, but he was unable to change it. He sighed, and slept.
At night they ate and headed north. They had lost the path; perhaps it had not gone beyond the Com-Pewter’s mountain anyway, as the machine had set it up to bring in entertaining people. They didn’t want to retrace their steps; not only would that waste an extra day or more, it would take them through the stockyard of the Bulls & Bears and the haunt of the succubus and the invisible giant; they might even encounter EmJay and Ass again. Once was enough for all of those!
So they plowed through the dense vegetation, going toward the Gap Chasm, which they were sure could not be far distant. The geography of Xanth seemed to change every time a person went out in it, like the Good Magician’s castle, but the Gap was eternal. It sliced across Xanth, separating it into northern and southern halves, and now that the remnants of the forget-spell on it had finally dissipated, many folk remembered where it was. Of course there were still pockets of forget here and there, and probably
some of the mysteries associated with the Gap would never be unraveled, but certainly they would find the Gap if they just kept going north.
Chester paused, listening. Now Grundy heard it—an ominous rattle, as of a poisonous snake or a ghost. Trouble?
“Friend,” Snortimer said in monster language.
“You’re sure?” Grundy asked.
“I recognize the rattle. It’s one of Ivy’s friends.”
“Well, if you’re sure—”
Snortimer took off at a lope, his hands drawing him rapidly along through the brush. Grundy had to admit that in this terrain the Bed Monster was better than any conventional steed would have been, for Bink and Chester were quickly left behind.
Soon they burst upon—a horse. A rather shaggy stallion, with several bands of chain around his barrel. These were what rattled. “That’s Pook, the ghost horse,” Snortimer said.
Naturally Snortimer could not speak the equine language, and the ghost horse did not understand Bed Monster language. That was Grundy’s talent. It had been some time since he had seen Pook, so he might not have recognized him without Snortimer’s assistance. “Pook, I presume?” he inquired of the horse.
“Oh, I wanted to scare you!” Pook complained.
“I can’t be scared right now,” Grundy explained. “I’m on a Quest.”
“A Quest! I haven’t been on one of those for centuries! Not since Jordan the Barbarian tamed me.”
“Jordan! Is he here?”
“No. It wasn’t safe for Threnody to be too close to Castle Roogna, you know, because of the curse, so they moved away. But we stayed halfway near, because Puck likes to visit Ivy.”
Puck was the foal of Pook and Peek. They were a family of ghost horses, and the foal had remained young for centuries, because ghosts changed slowly. Since Grundy liked the Pooka family better than he liked Jordan and Threnody, he was satisfied with this encounter. “We’re heading for the Gap. How far do we have to go?”
“Not far,” Pook said. “But the route is devious. There are several hungry dragons and a monster or two in the way.”
“We don’t have forever,” Grundy said. “Is there a good, fast way there that avoids the hazards?”
“Sure. We can lead you through it, if you like.”
That was exactly what Grundy would like. “Thanks!”
Now Peek and Puck showed up. Peek was a beautiful shaggy mare with similar chains, and Puck was a frolicsome young creature whose chains threatened to fly loose when he leaped. They peered curiously at Snortimer, for though they knew what he was, they had never actually seen him before. It was unusual for Bed Monsters to stray far from their beds.
Bink and Chester crashed up to join them. There were introductions; then the ghost horses showed the route.
It was as if a path appeared where none had existed before. Suddenly it was much easier to penetrate the wilderness, though their route was now quite curvacious. Nobody complained, because everyone knew that this was necessary to avoid the lurking dragons and monsters. Actually, it had been a lucky thing to encounter Pook; this help would save them a great deal of time and trouble. Grundy knew that Bink took such luck for granted, but certainly it was with them at the moment.
As dawn neared, the terrain grew rougher. There were numerous crevises in the ground near the Gap Chasm, as if fragmented from it. They decided to camp, as they could not quite reach the Gap before day. The ghost horses could go abroad by night or day, but preferred the night, so they were satisfied. Puck trotted about, locating fruits and nuts and water; Chester, who had the appetite of a horse, really appreciated that.
Snortimer disappeared under his bed, but the others remained up for a while, talking. Grundy was happy to translate; it made him feel important.
“Do you really want to go to the Gap,” Pook asked, “or do you need to cross it?”
“Neither,” Grundy explained. “We’re going down into it, to meet the Gap Dragoness.”
“Oh, then you don’t need to go to the brink! I know of a tunnel that leads down into it. Jordan and I used it to get out, four hundred years ago, and I’m sure it’s still there.”
“Great!” Grundy exclaimed, and translated for Bink and Chester.
“Who made the tunnel?” Bink inquired, interested.
“We don’t know. It’s just there.”
Just there. Perhaps that was enough of an answer for a horse, but Grundy was unsatisfied. Someone had to have made that tunnel, and now he was quite curious who. After the experience with the path leading to the Com-Pewter cave, Grundy was more cautious about simply using what was there. If the tunnel had been there for centuries, probably it was safe; but if it connected to Com-Pewter’s cave.…
“I think we ought to find out more about this tunnel before we commit ourselves all the way to it,” Chester said. “It’s a long way down to the bottom of the Gap Chasm, and if anything happened—”
“My thought exactly!” Grundy agreed. “Let’s find out who made it, then we can use it. Some things wait for a long time to catch the unwary.”
They slept. At night the ghost horses showed them to the tunnel. It opened from the base of a small north-south chasm, as if it had been there before the chasm opened. Sure enough, when they explored the opposite side of the cleft, there, hidden under a fall of debris, was another tunnel: the evident continuation of the other. Since the first tunnel proceeded down into the Gap, this other must go elsewhere, and should be safer to explore.
Grundy took charge. “Let’s send one party down into it, while another watches from outside,” he said. “Maybe we can call back and forth, and trace it from the surface.”
Grundy rode Snortimer into the tunnel, while Bink and Chester stayed outside. Little Puck followed Grundy in, planning to act as liaison between the two parties. Since the three of them were of small size, it was easier for them to explore without disturbing anything.
There was a little fungus glow on the walls. Puck and Snortimer didn’t need it, but that wan light helped Grundy a great deal.
The tunnel wound along like a worm, remaining approximately level, which meant that the surface of the ground was not too far above. But their hope of maintaining voice contact was vain; nothing could be heard. Puck could have returned to inform his parents where Grundy was, but that would have meant a long trot, and he might have trouble finding Grundy when he came back. Nothing was working out quite as planned.
They came to a fork in the tunnel. Grundy took the one to the right, as it was slightly larger and cleaner. But soon there was another fork, and another. In fact, a labyrinth was developing! Grundy was worried about getting lost, but Snortimer assured him that he could retrace his course anytime.
Then there was a rumble, and suddenly part of the tunnel collapsed behind them. Snortimer leaped forward, avoiding the stones and sliding dirt, and Puck practically sailed ahead. Apparently their passage had shaken the old structure enough to start the shakedown.
They were unharmed—but now their return route was blocked. Snortimer might be good at retracing his route, but he could no longer do that. They could be in trouble.
Grundy urged his steed on, trusting that he would be able to find a way back around the blocked passage. They had passed so many intersections that there had to be a connection. Meanwhile, he wanted to finish the job he had come to do and get out of here before anything else happened.
The labyrinth of passages began to assume a form. This seemed to be a series of concentric circles, with the inner circles larger than the outer ones, as if closer to the center of things. Whatever there was that was worth finding, would surely be found in that center!
There was another shudder, and they heard more stones falling, to the side. This time it couldn’t be the fault of the three of them, they had been stepping very lightly. Was something else causing it?
They went on, more nervously. Grundy had never been bothered by tunnels or tight squeezes; his size and agility had always enabled him to get clear. N
ow he was beginning to be bothered. It was obvious that neither Snortimer nor Puck felt any more at ease than he did.
The going got easier as the tunnels became larger. These ones were in better repair; their walls were turning smooth, and their floors were firmer. The fungus glow brightened. Snortimer began to grow nervous, not liking the light, but did not actually balk. Probably this glow would seem like deepest darkness in daylight, so the monster was able to tolerate it.
Finally the tunnels became so large and so close together that the spaces between them were more like walls. Then the walls disappeared, and what remained was a fair-sized chamber: the center of the labyrinth.
In the very center of that chamber was a small, ornate chest. Could it be a treasure?
Excited, now, Grundy went to it. But what might be small to a man was large for him; he was unable to lift its heavy lid.
“Let me do it,” Snortimer said. He reached forth with a huge hairy hand and grasped the lid, hauling it off.
Grundy grasped the edge, hauled himself up, and peered into the open chest. He saw gleams of reflected light, such as might come from jewels or glossy metal, but couldn’t quite make out what the objects were.
Snortimer reached in and drew out a handful. They seemed to be objects made of metal—curving spikes, hollow inside. Grundy took one, and found it heavy. It was about a third his own length, shaped like a very long, thin drinking horn, all of bright metal.
“Jewelry?” he asked. Neither Snortimer nor Puck could answer; they had never seen anything quite like this.
“Well, let’s take one out with us,” Grundy decided. “Maybe one of the others will recognize it.” He was disappointed that the chest had not contained treasure, though he really had no use for treasure anyway. It was mostly human beings and dragons who placed value on treasure, so others tended to copy that attitude.
Snortimer fastened one of the objects to Puck’s band of chains, so that the little ghost horse could carry it back conveniently. It was little enough, as treasures went.
He was disappointed on another score: here he had penetrated to the center of the labyrinth, and unveiled its secret—and found nothing worthwhile. Certainly no living creatures had been here for centuries, and there seemed to be no traps. It was probably safe to use the other tunnel down into the Gap Chasm, if it didn’t collapse on them.
Golem in the Gears Page 6