“I'm a gargoyle. I purify the water coming along this river, but I'm trying to find a better way to do it.”
“Doggone it,” she complained. “Why didn't you say so? We thought you were pretending to be a dog.”
“Why would anyone want to be a dog?” Mentia demanded.
Dogma turned to the others. “Let them go, dogfaces,” she growled. “We don't have a problem with gargoyles, and we don't want our river to get spoiled. The swans would go away.”
The dogs looked disgusted, but gave way, and the two moved on down the river channel. But they had hardly cleared the dog region before they encountered worse.
“More dogs?” Gary asked, seeing the creatures approaching.
“No. Wolves.”
“What's the difference? Aren't wolves just wild dogs?”
“Not in Xanth.”
They stopped as the wolves closed in. “What do you creatures want?” Gary demanded. He was getting impatient with these delays; at this rate it would be hard to accomplish his business with the Good Magician and return before nightfall.
“We are the Wolf clan,” the lead female said, changing to human form. “I am Virginia Wolf.”
“Your werewolves!” Gary exclaimed, surprised.
“We still are wolves,” she said. “We were wolves yesterday and will be so tomorrow.”
“I mean you change form,” he said, flustered.
She looked around. “We do? Where?”
“Right here.”
“Here, there, everywhere; what's the difference where wolves are?” More wolves were assuming human form.
“I mean you're magical. You're not true wolves.”
Virginia shook her head. “Never cry wolf,” she cautioned him.
“She's teasing you,” Mentia said.
Gary was catching on to that. “I'm the gargoyle who purifies -the Swan Knee water. I want to get a better way to honor my geis from the Good Magician.”
“We suspected as much,” she said. “Otherwise the dog pack wouldn't have let you through. But you know you have a long road to run.”
“I do? How far is it?”
“Several days plus the Gap Chasm.”
“The what?”
“You don't know about the Gap Chasm?”
“I've never been south of the border,” he said, nettled.
“What's this about a gap?”
“It's a big crevice across Xanth,” she explained. “It used to have a forget spell on it, so nobody remembered it, but most folk know about it now. You look too heavy to fly far, so maybe you can't get there from here.”
Gary turned to Mentia. “You didn't tell me about this!” he said accusingly.
“That wouldn't have been entertaining,” she retorted.
“And what's this about several days?”
“You didn't ask.”
“I'll never get this done before it rains!”
“That's why you built the dam.”
She had him there. “Still, if I can't cross the chasm—”
“I have an idea how to do that.”
He was frustrated, but decided to go ahead. Maybe it was still possible. The notion of returning to his dry riverbed to wait for more Mundane sludge to come through was appealing less, for some reason. “So will you let us through?” he asked Virginia.
“We might as well. We don't want dirty water either. It would mess up our apparel.”
“Your apparel?” he asked blankly.
“We are underwear wolves,” she explained. “We're training to crowd out the regular monsters under children's beds, and get a cushier life-style.”
He realized belatedly that what he had taken for a specialized costume on their human forms was actually underclothing. In fact Virginia was wearing panties. It was a good thing he wasn't human, or he would have freaked out, because that was the magic of panties.
They resumed their bounding. They made good time, but the distance stretched farther, and night caught them.
“Do gargoyles sleep?” Mentia inquired.
“Only when we're bored.”
“Are you bored?”
“No.” Frustrated, but not bored.
“So let's keep moving. I know the way.”
Gary was glad to do that. They bounded on through the darkness. There were surely predators of the night, but they evidently elected to leave the demoness and the gargoyle alone. The result was that as morning came, they were just arriving at what looked like a stall fashioned into a house.
“What is this?” Gary asked.
“A stall fashioned into a house.”
“I mean what are we doing here?”
“Arriving.”
Demons could get exasperating on occasion. “Is this going to help us cross the chasm?”
“No.”
“Then why are we—?”
“The occupants may help, however,” she clarified.
“Houses don't seem to care much about chasms, but the centaurs do.”
The door opened. A winged centaur filly about nine years old peered out. “Eeeek,” she screamed. “An incredibly ugly monster!”
“Oh be quiet, Cynthia,” the demoness snapped. “It's only me, Mentia, Metria's worse aspect.”
“But Metria's safely married and no longer doing mischief abroad,” the filly protested.
“I know. It's disgusting. That's why I'm abroad.”
Mentia assumed human form. “A demon broad. Tell Chex I could use a favor.”
In a moment a mature winged centaur emerged, tying her damp hair back; she must have been interrupted as she washed it. “Metria has a split personality?” she inquired.
“Emotional havoc can do that,” Mentia said. “I couldn't stand her half-souled loving attitude, so I fissioned off.
Now I'm in charge of the mischief. But I got distracted by this ugly brute, so I'm guiding him to the Good Magician's castle. But the Gap Chasm's in the way, and he's too solid to fly, so—”
Chex gazed at Gary. “Why you're a gargoyle, aren't you?” she asked. “We seldom see your kind here.”
“That's because most of us are purifying the waters flowing in from Mundania, according to our geis,” he explained. “But now if I can find a better way—”
“Of course,” she agreed immediately. Centaurs, he remembered, were very bright. “And you need to fly across the Gap Chasm. I can certainly help you to do that.”
“You can?” he asked, amazed. “But my weight—”
She turned and flicked him with her tail. Suddenly he felt light-headed and light-bodied. He flapped his wings experimentally, and sailed into the air. She had made him so light that he was able to fly!
“Thank you,” Mentia said. “Some day I shall fail to do you mischief, when I have the chance.”
Chex smiled. “That seems a fair bargain. We do need clean water. In any event, we winged monsters have to help each other.”
Mentia rose into the air. “I knew that,” she said. Then, to Gary: “Move it, monster. You don't want to be over the chasm when her magic wears off.”
“Just how big is this crevice?” he asked.
“You'll see.”
They flew south as the sun made a nest of colors to the east and lifted itself out of the clouds. Suddenly an enormous chasm opened out below. It was so wide and deep that a few of the pink morning clouds were nestling within it. Gary could not see to its base; that was still shrouded in night. But he felt new urgency to get across it; already he was feeling heavier.
They landed beyond the Gap on what the demoness assured him was an enchanted path: only folk on legitimate business could use it, and while they were on it, they would be protected from monsters.
“But I'm a monster!” he protested.
“You have to be a nice monster for now. Can you stand it?”
“I was never a nasty monster. Just an ugly one.”
“So you'll have no problem. We'll soon reach the castle.”
“It will be good to get this
done with.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “There's a detail or two I may not have mentioned.”
“The last detail or two related to the distance and the Gap Chasm. I hope these aren't as bad.”
“No, not as bad,” she said, smiling. “Worse.”
“Worse! Why didn't you tell me, you crazy creature?”
“Thank you. I thought it would be more interesting this way. You see, you don't just walk into the Good Magician's castle. You have to struggle past three challenges.
That's because he doesn't like to be disturbed by folk who aren't serious.”
“If I had known that—”
“To be sure,” she agreed so sweetly that flakes of crystallized sugar formed on her surfaces.
He tried to get a grip on his unruly emotion. “What's the other detail?”
“The Good Magician charges.”
“Charges?”
“One year's service for each Question he Answers.”
“One year!” he cried, outraged. “That's ridiculous!”
“To be sure,” she agreed even more sweetly. Cloying syrup oozed from her pores. “Well, this path leads right to it, so you can't get lost. I have to be going now, to realign with my better half. Bye.”
“Now just a long moment!” he said.
But she had already faded out.
Chapter 2
GOOD MAGICIAN
Gary gazed at the castle. It looked ordinary, being pretty much like his mental image. There were walls and turrets and pennants and the rest of the usual. But it differed in one significant respect: the moat was dry. The drought must have affected this region too. That was sad. No castle was worth much without water.
D. Mentia had said that there would be three challenges.
She was slightly crazy, but she seemed to have been truthful when she wasn't omitting key details. So he would be prepared.
There seemed to be a drawbridge to the side. He bounded toward it, because that was surely better than descending into the caked gunk at the bottom of the defunct moat.
The vegetation closed in with thick brambles. His stone hide couldn't be hurt by brambles any more than by the bites of dogs, but he didn't like getting his finish scratched, so he followed the path that offered. It curved away from the castle, but surely would return to find the drawbridge. It took him into a small forest of cane of all colors, a rather pretty scene.
He came to a glade. There an armored warrior was laboring to harvest some of the canes, looking somewhat tired and sweaty. Perhaps it was someone doing a service for the Good Magician. Maybe he could learn more about this situation.
Gary bounded to a halt. “Hello, sir warrior,” he said politely. He understood that human folk liked to be given titles, and since it cost him nothing to humor their foibles, he did so.
The figure paused and turned to him. “Don't 'sir' me!” it snapped. “I'm not a man.”
Gary was somewhat set back. “I apologize,” he said contritely. “I took you for human.”
“I am human,” she said, straightening into a warlike pose. He saw that her metallic armor was curved in front in a manner reminiscent of Mentia's décolletage, when the demoness remembered to have one. This did suggest the figure was female. “I'm Hannah Barbarian, and if you were a smart-mouthed man I'd cut off three of your legs as readily as I do these hurry canes.”
“Hurry canes?”
“They are used as walking canes,” she said aggressively. “But they make you rush. I'm sure they're useful, but they're hard to hang on to.” Indeed, the one she had just cut was whipping around as if trying to escape her grip, and the trussed bundle of them was hopping on the ground, eager to go somewhere.
“Perhaps I could help you accomplish your task,” Gary said.
This seemed to make her angrier. “I don't need any male's help! Now get out of here before I forget myself and practice something feministic on you.” The cane in her hand whirled menacingly.
Gary hastily bounded on. He had heard that human females were sweet and soft, but evidently he had been misinformed. Perhaps this was another detail the demoness hadn't mentioned.
The path curved around and brought him to the drawbridge. Two young human men stood before it. Gary bounded to another stop. “Hello,” he said, carefully omitting the “sir” so as not to annoy anyone.
The two eyed him sourly. “Hello yourself,” one said sharply. “You are a horrendously ugly creature,” the other said candidly.
“Thank you,” Gary replied. He realized that humans liked compliments, so he offered one in return: “You're not exactly handsome yourself.” He was stretching a point, as the man was far from the gargoyle standard of ugliness, but social nicety seemed to require it.
The second man grimaced. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am Frank. He is Curt.”
“I am Gary,” Gary said.
“That is not the most original name,” Frank said directly.
“He's an animal,” Curt said brusquely.
“All true,” Gary agreed innocently. “Now if you will step aside, I would like to cross that drawbridge.”
“Not a chance,” Curt said tersely.
“I must inform you straightforwardly that we are here to prevent you from trespassing,” Frank said openly.
“But I need to see the Good Magician,” Gary said perplexedly.
“Tough,” Curt said shortly.
“Perhaps you don't understand,” Frank said forthrightly.
“This is a challenge.”
“Oh,” Gary said naively. “I hadn't realized.”
“Perhaps because you are not very intelligent,” Frank said boldly.
“You're ignorant,” Curt said bluntly.
“I surely am,” Gary agreed, bemused. He realized that these two had a job to do, and that his own job was to get them out of his way. He could simply barge on through, knocking them into the stinking muck of the moat, but though his hide was stone, his heart was soft, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. So he turned away, pondering alternatives.
“What a clod,” Curt remarked gruffly.
“They do not produce challengers the way they used to,” Frank agreed freely.
Gary wandered on around the moat. The path gave up after a few paces, evidently tired. Gary had to stop lest he step on some T-shaped plants grouped in conic formations, bearing what looked like peas. He picked a ripe pea and put it in his mouth. It turned instantly to fluid. It was tea!
These were tea peas.
However, this didn't help him cross the moat. He still didn't want to wade through the muck, so he turned his tail on the tea-pea patch and returned to the drawbridge.
“Are you sure you won't let me cross peaceably?” he inquired artlessly.
“Absolutely,” Curt replied abruptly.
“It is not in our job description,” Frank replied openly.
Gary still didn't want to act in a nasty manner, so he followed the path back to the cane. There was a wind rising there now, with gusts becoming quite stiff. The canes swayed, looking as if they wished they could hurry elsewhere.
Hannah was worse off. Her militantly coifed hair was getting blown all askew, and her amazonian skirt was flapping so badly as to show her stiff knees. She did not look particularly pleased.
“Hello,” Gary said hesitantly.
She whirled on him, a straggling cane in each hand.
“You again? What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he said cautiously. “It's just that I discovered a patch of tea peas. Maybe if you drank some of them you would feel better.”
Hannah paused in mid-whirl. “Maybe you're right, monster. I am thoroughly thirsty from this windy work. Where is that patch?”
“Down this path to the drawbridge, and turn right. You can't miss it.”
She eyed him. “Where are you going now?”
Gary shrugged. “I don't seem to have what it takes to get into the Good Magician's castle, so perhaps I'll go home, if I
can find the way. But I'm still willing to help you gather some cane, if there is any way I can be useful.”
“You're not exactly a typical male,” she remarked.
“I haven't had much practice,” he confessed. “I have worked alone all my life.”
Hannah seemed almost unmilitant for half an instant, though this was probably a misinterpretation of her mood.
“I know the feeling. Stick around, gargoyle. Maybe I will accept your help, after I take some tea.” She marched off along the path.
Gary shrugged and followed. He was hoping that he would figure out some way to cross the moat, because he didn't like giving up, and also was not unduly eager to try to cross the larger ditch known as the Gap Chasm without having something to show for his excursion.
Hannah came into sight of the drawbridge. There were Prank and Curt.
“Look!” Curt cried briefly. “A tart!”
“That is one messed-up girl,” Frank said in an up-front manner. “She's wearing a ridiculous military outfit, carrying some kind of clumsy stick, and her hair resembles a dismembered mop.”
“Now there's a pair of typical jacks,” Hannah exclaimed. “How fortunate that I was already angry.” She strode forward, wielding her cane. “I never did take any guff from cartoon characters.”
“What's up, sweetie?” Curt inquired in a sexist way.
“You intrigue us, darling,” Frank said. “I wonder whether under that metallic skirt you wear a pair of—”
Then Hannah caught up to them. There were two thunks and a sudden splash, as of bags of rocks falling into mud.
It was all over in an eye-blink, and by the time Gary finished blinking, the barbarian woman was on her way to the pea patch and the drawbridge was empty.
Gary realized that he had inadvertently made an opportunity for himself. Hannah, who was not particularly softhearted about obnoxious men, had done the job Gary had shied away from. So he might as well cross the drawbridge while he had the chance.
But as he bounded to it, another figure appeared. It looked human, but was faintly glowing. And it barred the way. “Are you another challenge?” Gary inquired as he came to a stop.
“I am indeed! I am Fiera. My talent is the control of fire.” She lifted her hands, tossing a ball of fire between them. “If you try to pass, I will burn you.”
Geis of the Gargoyle Page 2