Then Snortimer hauled him up again. “Not yet,” Grundy reported.
On his third descent he spied a flying fish just getting ready to take off. “Hey, take a message to the Monster of the Sea,” he called to it. “Tell him where we are!”
“Willco, Roger,” the fish replied, and accelerated out of the water.
“I think we’ve got it,” Grundy gasped as Snortimer hauled him up again. “I told a flying fish; they’re very fast.”
They retreated under the seat to ride out the storm until the Monster came. A fair amount of water was now sloshing around in the bottom of the boat, making things uncomfortable, but they were hopeful that they would soon be rescued.
Then a monstrous green tentacle flung itself over the boat. Rapunzel screamed. “What’s that?”
“That’s the tentacle of a kraken weed,” Grundy said with horror. Then, to the kraken: “What are you doing here?”
“A flying fish told me there was food here,” the monster replied in kraken-talk.
Grundy’s hope sank out of sight. “The fish told the wrong monster!” he cried.
Another tentacle came over the boat, holding it fast. A third one came, snaking down under the seat, looking for prey. Rapunzel screamed again. Damsels were very good at screaming in emergencies, even those raised in Ivory Towers.
Snortimer grabbed the tentacle in a big hairy hand and squeezed it. “Ouch!” the kraken cried, and threw in three more tentacles. Snortimer grabbed two more of them, but more came in, too many for him to overcome. Slowly they dragged him from under the seat. Rapunzel’s screaming was continuous.
Then the kraken grunted and let go. Its tentacles twisted and thrashed about. In a moment it was gone.
“What happened?” the damsel asked, uncertain whether it was all right to cease screaming.
Grundy looked out. A huge shape loomed beside the boat. “Our Monster’s arrived!” he exclaimed, relieved.
“When I saw the weed going somewhere so fast, I was suspicious,” the Monster said. “I thought a damsel might be in distress.”
“You were right!” Grundy exclaimed. Then he translated for Rapunzel.
“Oh, I’m so happy to be rescued!” she exclaimed. She changed to human size, leaned over, and patted the Monster’s nearest flipper. The Monster blushed pink with pleasure.
Now the storm was abating. Light returned—but not moonlight. “Dawn!” Grundy cried, appalled. “And we don’t have the bed!”
“Just tell me where to go,” the Monster said, picking the boat up by a flipper and setting it in his back. “There are a few minutes yet before the sun comes up.”
“Back to the golden grotto!” Grundy cried. The Monster moved out, churning up a violent wake. It was the fastest he had ever moved.
Fracto, in the sky, spied them. The cloud darkened, then reconsidered, catching on to their problem. It started to lighten, to let more of the light of day past. The sky lightened, and Snortimer whimpered and wedged as far under the seat as he could.
They zoomed up to the rocky golden shore. But here the water was relatively shallow; the Monster could not go all the way, since the tide remained low. Still the light brightened, as the cloud malevolently dissolved its vapors.
Grundy realized that there was no time for finesse. “Throw the boat!” Grundy cried. “We’ll hang on!”
The Monster picked the boat up again with a flipper, then heaved. The boat flew through the air, and splashed violently in the shallow water just beneath the rock-formation where the bed was hidden. It was an awful jolt, but Grundy couldn’t afford to worry about that.
“Climb out!” he told Snortimer. “The bed’s close!”
But it was already too bright. Snortimer huddled under the bench, petrified, unable to move out.
Rapunzel had gone to golem-size for the throw. “Get as big as you can!” Grundy told her. “Stand in the water!”
She jumped into the water, becoming full human-sized.
“Now reach in and grab Snortimer,” Grundy directed. “He’s not that big; just haul him out and toss him into that cave!”
She did as directed. The Bed Monster, paralyzed by the brightness developing around them, offered no resistance. In a moment he landed in the cave.
“You’re there!” Grundy cried at him. “Get under the bed!”
But Snortimer was too far gone. He just lay there beside the bed.
“Stuff him under there!” Grundy cried to Rapunzel. “Quickly!”
She obeyed. The Monster was finally back where he belonged. But was it in time?
Rapunzel lifted Grundy up to the cave and set him on the bed. Then she held his hand and joined him there, golem-size again. “Is he all right?” she asked worriedly.
Grundy spread his hands. “I don’t know. He had bad exposure. We’ll just have to wait and see if he recovers.”
“What’s the situation?” the Monster of the Sea honked.
“He’s under the bed—but hurt,” Grundy reported. “We don’t know how bad it is.”
“Is the damsel all right?”
“She’s all right,” Grundy reassured him. “You liberated her.”
“Then I must be going,” the Monster of the Sea honked. “I can not long remain in this shallow water.”
“Go, and welcome!” Grundy agreed. “You have done all that could have been asked.” He had discovered, somewhere in the course of this Quest, that things tended to work better if he erred on the side of more credit for others rather than less. Insults had their place, of course, but so did compliments. It was an interesting discovery, whose ramifications he had yet to explore properly. “Take the boat with you, so the Hag can’t use it; we’ve got her confined to the Ivory Tower.”
The Monster drew on the trailing rope on the boat, and brought the craft to him. He set it on his back and pushed out to sea. “Good fortune, hero and damsel!” he honked in parting.
Grundy jumped. “What did he say?” Rapunzel asked, but Grundy was too embarrassed to tell her. Hero? Him? What a joke!
10
Coming to Terms
Tired from the rigors of the night, they lay on the bed and slept. There was plenty of room for both of them, as Rapunzel remained golem-sized. She slept at one end, and Grundy at the other.
At noon Grundy woke and got up. He peered under the bed. Snortimer still lay without moving. Yet he was not dead; Bed Monsters dissolved into dust when their ends came. There was still hope.
Grundy went outside the cave to forage for something to eat. He found a patch of sugar sand, and a puddle of reasonably fresh water. Those would have to do.
Rapunzel was up when he returned. He explained about the sand and water, apologetically. To his surprise, she seemed pleased. “I’ve never eaten directly from the real world,” she said. “It will be a new experience.”
Some experience! But he took her to the sand and puddle, and she ate and drank and expressed satisfaction. Then they returned to the cave and the bed.
“Is he going to get better?” she asked.
Grundy spread his hands. “I just don’t know how bad it is,” he confessed. “I’m hoping that rest is all he needs.”
They returned to the cave, but Snortimer was no better. They sat on the bed and worried. “I promised to help him search for romance,” Grundy said dispiritedly. “What have I brought him?”
“Romance?” she asked, combing her hair with a little silver comb she had with her. As she got her shorn hair in better order, it looked nicer; she was still the prettiest creature he had seen.
“He was lonely, under his bed. He wanted to find a female of his kind before he—well, you know that Bed Monsters usually don’t survive after the children on their beds grow up and stop believing.”
“Yes, of course. I was brought up to be rational, so I never had a real monster under my bed. I really missed that. But—”
“Wait,” Grundy said, realizing. “You’re not a child now. How is it that Snortimer was able to hide under your be
d?”
“It’s not age that decides it,” she explained. “It’s attitude. Most children think it’s grown-up not to believe in Bed Monsters, so when they grow up, they don’t. But since I didn’t have a Bed Monster, I never had the experience of truly believing, and so never grew out of it. You have to experience something fully, before you can leave it behind. So I’m retarded in ways like that; I’m still ready to accept a Bed Monster, and my bed showed it.”
“If you’re retarded, I hope you never grow up!” Grundy exclaimed.
“I mean that I haven’t had the experience of the real world,” she explained. “I know about it, but I haven’t experienced it. So I know a lot about Bed Monsters, but Snortimer is the first I have actually encountered. I’m so sorry he came all this way for nothing.”
“For nothing?” Grundy asked blankly.
“He can’t find romance. There is no female of his kind.”
“What?” Grundy asked, appalled.
“Bed Monsters don’t breed the way other creatures do. They don’t reproduce. They form spontaneously from the dust under a child’s bed, and they dissolve back into dust when the child stops being a child. Snortimer’s the only one I know of who has traveled away from his bed.”
“Well, actually we brought the bed along. But—”
“But his whole hope is vain,” she concluded. “I suppose we’ll have to tell him, if—”
“If he pulls through this crisis of light exposure,” Grundy said morosely. “If I had known about this, I would never have—”
“Of course,” she agreed quickly. “You are a nice person.”
Grundy laughed ironically. “I’m neither nice nor a person. I’m a loud-mouthed golem.”
“You certainly are a person!” she insisted. “And a brave one too! The way you fought Mother Sweetness—” But this brought her up short. “Oh, I wish I hadn’t thought of that!”
“She really wasn’t what you thought,” Grundy said uncomfortably. “Naturally she didn’t show her mean side to you.”
“I realize that, now. I see that there were inconsistencies in the picture of Xanth she presented for me. If there were no things I didn’t know about, why wouldn’t she allow me to leave the Tower? Everything seemed to make sense, from the Tower; now that I’m away from it, I can see that reality isn’t quite the same. Still, Mother Sweetness was the only person I knew, and it really hurts me to know that she—”
“I guess it’s the same kind of shock for you that it will be for Snortimer, when he learns that—”
“You’re very perceptive, Grundy.”
“No I’m not. I just happen to know what it’s like.”
“What it’s like?” she asked blankly.
“To have no female of your species.”
“But golems can be made in any type!” she protested.
“But not living golems. When I was wood and rag, all I wanted was to become real. But when I became real, I discovered I was alone.”
“I never thought of that! That’s terrible, Grundy!”
“Anyway, that’s not my Quest,” he said uncomfortably. “I’m searching for Ivy’s little dragon friend, Stanley Steamer. The Good Magician told me to ride the Bed Monster to the Ivory Tower, and now I’ve done that, but I still don’t know where Stanley is.”
“But I know that!” she cried, clapping her hands. “There’s a young six-legged dragon with the Fauns and Nymphs.”
“A steamer?” he asked, excited.
“Yes. He arrived there about three years ago, in a puff of smoke.”
“He’s all right?”
“So I understand.”
“Then why didn’t he go home to Ivy?”
“The Fauns and Nymphs won’t let him go.” Then her fair brow furrowed. “But that’s strange, I realize now. The Fauns and Nymphs are supposed to be innocent folk who don’t hurt any creature. How could they hold a dragon captive?”
“There must be a side to them that the Hag didn’t tell you about,” Grundy said grimly. “I know Stanley would have returned to Ivy, if he possibly could have.”
She shook her head. “It must be so. The Fauns and Nymphs migrated south when the ogres migrated north; now the ogres are up by the Ogre-fen-Ogre Fen, and the Fauns and Nymphs are down below Lake Ogre-Chobee. It’s really not a great distance from here, as the rocflies. I’m sure Stanley could have gone home, if permitted.”
“Well, I’m going to rescue him and bring him home,” Grundy said. “I have to, or Ivy will do something disastrous. She’s a little Sorceress, you know.”
“Yes, she’s to be Queen of Xanth one day. I suppose when she grows up, she’ll stop corresponding with me. Adults don’t believe in pun-pals any more than they do in Bed Monsters.” She dipped her gaze, sadly. “I wish I could have met her.”
“But you can meet her!” Grundy said. “You’re free of the Ivory Tower now!”
“Why, so I am!” she agreed, surprised. “But I’m not sure I could travel all that way alone. The fact that I know about the dragons and other creatures of Xanth doesn’t mean I could handle them if I encountered them; in fact I’m sure I couldn’t.”
“You can travel with us,” Grundy said. “We’re going there, just as soon as we rescue Stanley.”
“Why, so you are,” she agreed, smiling gladly. “But I’m afraid I would only be in your way.”
“I don’t see why. Snortimer could carry both of us; he’s strong enough.” Then he remembered the Bed Monster’s state. “Only—”
She sighed. “Only he’s ill,” she finished. “I had forgotten. What will you do, Grundy, if he—?”
Grundy shrugged. “I’ll just have to go on alone.”
“But then I could go with you!”
“On foot? I don’t think you would like that.”
She pondered. “Maybe you could talk to animals, and get a ride for us.”
He nodded. “Yes, I could do that. But I’d rather go with Snortimer. He’s been a good steed and a good friend, and—”
“Surely he will get better!” she said positively.”
“Surely he will,” Grundy agreed, but a big ugly doubt was hovering about him.
“Only—” she began.
“Yes?”
“What about the bed?”
Grundy sighed. “You’re right. We have to take that along. But I should be able to get an animal to carry it.”
Then Rapunzel screamed.
Grundy jumped up. “What? Where?”
“That!” she cried, pointing at the floor.
Grundy looked. His heart sank. “A nickelpede!” he exclaimed.
“That’s right—they infest these caves. They like the gold, though they can’t eat it. Some creatures are like that. Where there’s one, there’s hundreds!”
“It’s searching for meat,” Grundy said.
“Can it reach us, up here on the bed?”
“In time. But it’s not after us. It’s after Snortimer.”
She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh!” she cried with new horror.
“We’ve got to stop it,” he decided. “If it doesn’t return to its nest, the others won’t know Snortimer’s here.” He moved to the edge of the bed.
“But how can we stop it?” she asked, peering down.
“I’ll need a weapon,” he said. He looked wildly about. “I wish I’d saved that hatpin!”
“I have a fairly large pin,” she said. “Of course it’s small, now, because—”
“Change size and get it for me,” he said urgently.
She changed to human size, reached into her dress, and brought out a large pin. She handed this to Grundy, then changed back to his size.
The pin made a good sword. Grundy held the shaft between his teeth, and climbed down the leg of the bed.
The nickelpede was now approaching one of Snortimer’s limp hands. It was a roughly circular creature standing about knee-high to him, but it’s two big claws reached up meanacingly. They seemed to be gold-plated; this was
one rich little monster.
Grundy stabbed at the thing with his pin. The point was sharp, but it scraped off the metallic hide and did no harm. The nickelpede clicked its claws and advanced, forcing Grundy to jump back. Those pincers could gouge disk-shaped chunks out of metal; they could surely do worse to his flesh!
He circled around, seeking some vulnerable spot. Suppose he skewered an eye? That would set the thing back! There was only one problem: he couldn’t find any eyes. The thing had feelers or antennae, and when he stabbed at them, they simply swayed aside.
How about the feet? The thing had six or eight little pedal extremities, and they couldn’t be too heavily armored, or they would impede its walking. If he took out several feet, that might ground it.
He watched for an opening, then stabbed at a foot. He missed—but the nickelpede didn’t; one of its claws whipped around and caught his pin. CRUNCH! Grundy was left holding half a pin.
Dismayed, he backed away. The nickelpede pursued, aware of its advantage.
Grundy tripped over a ridge in the stone floor, and fell on his back. The nickelpede clacked its mandibles and scuttled toward him.
Something huge came down. The nickelpede disappeared.
Startled, Grundy rubbed his eyes and looked again. The huge thing was Rapunzel, human-sized. She had stepped on the nickelpede.
“Ooo, ick!” she exclaimed, stepping away.
The nickelpede was done for; she had squished it. But in a moment she was back to golem-size, standing on the bed, her face in her hands.
Grundy climbed back up. “You saved me!” he exclaimed.
“I just couldn’t let you get chomped!” She sobbed. “Ooo, I never did anything like that before!”
“I’m glad you did! I messed up, the way I usually do, and if you hadn’t—”
“You were so brave! When I saw you fall—”
“I’m not brave!” he protested. “I was terrified!”
“Well, you looked brave!”
He wasn’t used to this sort of compliment and didn’t know how to handle it, so he changed the subject. “There are bound to be other nickelpedes coming. We need some better way to hold them off. Do you know of anything better than stomping?”
“If we could find a nickelodeon,” she said uncertainly.
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