“Fire,” he said, impressed. “I've never met anyone who wasn't a salamander who could do that.”
“My brother Fiero's just as hot as I am, and together we are even hotter,” she said proudly. “We're Xanth's hottest act.”
Gary couldn't be hurt by fire any more than by thorns or teeth, but he didn't want to have to dump a nice human woman like Fiera into the muck, so he retreated. This time he found a path circling the moat in the other direction. In a moment it debouched into a little circle of glassy stones.
In the middle of the circle was a big feather. He picked it up so that it wouldn't get stepped on, for it was a pretty feather. Then he wasn't sure what to do with it, because it could get blown into the path again and get stepped on after he left. So he tucked it into the rock wool between his horns for safekeeping. When he found someone who appreciated pretty feathers, he would give it to that person.
Then he saw that one of the glassy stones had fallen out of the circle, perhaps having been blown over by the wind.
He tried to move it back into place with his paws, but it splashed. Astonished, he jumped back—and it sagged and started slopping onto the ground. It was actually a container of water!
He couldn't just let it pour out. After all there was a drought, and water was precious. So he returned and tried to shape it up with his paws, but it still slopped. The sides of it were bendy, and there was a hole in the top, so that as it sat it sagged, and as it sagged it flowed. It was probably his fault; he must have inadvertently knocked it over, and now it was no longer tight. What to do?
He put his mouth to the edge and caught the side of it between his teeth. He bit down gently, only hard enough to be able to catch hold and pull it up. That stopped the leaking. But the moment he tried to let go, it sagged again.
He couldn't let it go without mining it.
Maybe Fiera would know what to do. She was part of this situation, after all. So he set his teeth carefully into the rock and slowly dragged it down the path, making sure that no more water spilled.
“What are you doing with that quartz?” Fiera demanded when he reached the drawbridge.
“Quartz?” he asked blankly. As he did so, his teeth let go of the rock, and it began to sag and leak again. He snapped at it, trying to stop the spillage, but couldn't get a proper hold.
“Yes, you have quartz of water,” she said, alarmed.
“That's worse than pintz of water.”
“Yes, the water's leaking, and I wondered if you know how to stop it,” he said, nipping again for the edge, and missing again. The feather fell from his head and landed in the water.
Then something odd happened. The quill pointed up and squirted water. A jet of it shot up, making an arc toward the woman.
“EEEEK!!” Fiera screamed, falling back. “A Fountain Pen!!” She was so upset that she managed double exclamation points. Her pert posterior landed on the wooden drawbridge and set it afire. But the quill pen kept fountaining, drawing from the quartz. Trying to escape it, she scrambled to her feet and charged past him in a fiery flash.
“I'm sorry!” Gary cried, starting to bound after her. But she was already out of sight, and the pen was still squirting. He had to turn back and pull out the feather, getting roundly squirted in the snoot. The jet stopped when he got the feather clear of the water.
He looked around. The planks of the bridge were still burning around the seat-shaped spot where Fiera had landed. She must have lost control of her fire for a moment. He could put it out, but he would have to use the rest of the water in the quartz, and he wasn't willing to do that. So he dragged the half-full rock back to the stone circle. Now he was able to prop it up without leaking. He hoped it would heal in time. He had certainly made a mess of things.
When he returned to the drawbridge he saw that the fire had burned itself out. But the remaining planks were charred, and he doubted that they would support his weight. He realized that he could have crossed, and won the challenge, if he had just been willing to use up the rest of the water. But he was a stone creature, and he had an affinity with stone, and just couldn't mistreat the quartz like that. He was obviously not the type of creature the Good Magician wanted to see.
Still, there was not much to be gained by departing at this stage. He might as well plow onward. Even if the Magician wasn't going to let him in.
He considered the moat again. Now he saw that the muck in the bottom was filled with fish. They must have been stranded by the drought. That was no good. He didn't want to squish them underfoot, of course, but neither did he want to let them suffer longer. They needed water, and plenty of it.
Perhaps this was what the quartz rocks were for: to refill the moat when it got dry. But there weren't enough of them to do the job. He needed to find some other way.
He lay down beside the moat and put his head over the edge. “I want to help you, but you will have to help me,” he said. “Do any of you fish know where I can find enough water to fill this moat?”
One big fish wriggled a bit in the muck. “Scales,” it gasped.
“What do your scales have to do with water?” Gary asked, perplexed.
“Balance,” it gasped.
“Balance?” He was no more enlightened. But the fish had gasped its last gasp; it had no further strength for dialogue. It was surely very uncomfortable for a fish to be out of water, and talking made it worse.
Still, this suggested that there was water to be had somewhere. All he had to do was find it. At least he could help the fish before he departed.
He bounded back along the path. He discovered another fork leading from the glade in the cane grove. The wind was still strong, but he was too heavy to be much affected.
He followed the new path.
It led to a small mountain. On the top of the mountain was a big stone, precariously balanced. It was a wonder the wind didn't blow it off its perch, so that it crashed downward crushing all before it.
Balance. The fish had said that. This must relate. But what did it mean?
He looked around—and spied another mountain, with another boulder. More balancing. But he still didn't know how any of this could help.
He bounded between the two mountains, hoping for some clue. He saw that the sunlight fell across this region in a checkered pattern, interrupted by the shadows of the mountains and stones. Halfway between the balanced rocks was a square that seemed to have been etched into the ground by the pattern of sunbeam and shadow. He wasn't sure how it had happened, because normally shadows did not stay still very long. But this was a fairly magical region, and with magic almost anything was possible.
There must be some significance.
A checkered region between the balanced rocks. Checks and balances? The scales of a balance?
Scales. Now he saw markings around the square, as if something was being measured. He followed the marks, and found a single fish scale. He peered at it. There seemed to be words: RAIN CHECK.
Suddenly he didn't care about scales, checks, or balances. This related to rain, and rain was what he wanted.
Maybe it was an amulet or other magic device to summon rain. He picked it up with his teeth and carded it away.
The wind was blowing more fiercely than ever, but Gary flowed on through it. He reached the moat and dropped the rain check in. “Rain!” he cried.
Suddenly the wind whipped into a storm. Mist formed, thickening over the moat. From beyond the horizon came a cloud, borne along by the fierce wind. Gary gazed at it. He knew that cloud! That was Fracto Cumulo Nimbus, who loved to float by and withhold rain at critical times.
That was one reason for the drought. Fracto must be magically bound by a geis of his own, to honor the rain check when it was invoked. Thus the scale between the balances, there for Gary to find—if he could. He had more or less blundered across it, but had at least recognized it when he spied it.
Now Fracto was over the castle and the moat, boiling into a frenzy. The bottom fell out, and water gushed
out of the cloud. The moat began to fill.
The big fish swam up. “Thank you,” it said, no longer gasping. “You saved us!”
“You're welcome,” Gary replied. “I hate to see any creature suffering. I'm surprised there are so many of you in such a small section of water.”
“It's not normally this crowded,” the fish confessed.
“We're here for the playoffs.”
“Playoffs?”
“This isn't generally known, dryside,” the fish said.
“But we of the wetside have a secret passion for baseball. We play it all the time. In fact we have twenty thousand leagues under the sea. We gathered here for the Xanth championship series—and got caught by the drought. We are extremely fortunate that you managed to abate it.”
“Yes, now you can swim back to the sea,” Gary agreed.
“By no means. Now we can finish the series. We've been tortured by our inability to complete it and determine the winning teams. Ah, I think the moat is full enough now; it's time for me to go o-fish-iate. Thank you and good-bye. I'll send Naia.” The fish swam away.
Gary hardly had time to consider what to do next before another kind of fish swam up: a mermaid. “Hi, winged monster. I'm Naia Naiad, wearing my tail for this occasion.” She twisted, showing him a piece of tail. “The big fish told me to guide you across the moat, so you can make your appointment with the Good Magician.”
“My appointment?”
“Everyone who gets past the challenges gets to see him. Didn't you know?”
“But I didn't get past them!” he protested.
She shrugged. “You must have. Well, come on, hero.”
Bemused again, he stepped into the water, which was now almost to the top of the moat. He sank to the bottom, being denser than any water. It was cloudy, because of the stirring of the mud, but the naiad swam close enough so that he could keep her tail in sight. In fact sometimes he saw more than her tail, as she looped around to check on him; but since he wasn't human those parts didn't much concern him. It did occur to him, however, that such creatures must be very good at feeding their babies.
Naia led him to the far bank. He couldn't bound very well underwater, but he made sufficient progress by slowly flapping his wings instead. He climbed out, shook his body and wings dry, and turned back to thank her, but she was gone. The surface of the moat was rippling as the storm eased; the fish were already into their playoffs.
He bounded to the inner side of the drawbridge, and to the castle gate. It opened as he got there, admitting him. A human young woman of about twenty stood there.
“Hello,” she said, looking past him.
“Hello. I am Gary Gargoyle. I am not sure I—”
“Oh, yes; we were expecting you. I'm Wira, the Good Magician's daughter-in-law. Come in.”
“Well, I'm still a bit wet, as you can see, and—”
“I can't see, but I know what gargoyles look like. I'm sure a few drops of water won't hurt. Mother Gorgon wants to talk to you.” She set off down the inner hall.
He bounded cautiously after her. His state of bemusement seemed to have become chronic. “Who? Your mother?”
“My husband Hugo's mother. She's very nice, but her gaze turns people to stone, or it did before she had Humfrey make her face invisible and replace it with an illusion of her face. She says she has an affinity for stoned creatures, so she came here for this occasion.”
The business about an invisible illusionary face was beyond him, so he fixed on something simple. “I am a stone creature, yes.”
They came to a nice inner chamber with stone walls and stone furniture. He felt quite comfortable. Within it stood an older human woman. “So nice to meet you, Gary Gargoyle,” she said. “I am the Gorgon. We must talk.”
“As you wish,” he agreed. “But I'm not sure I should be here. I didn't—”
“You handled the challenges in your own compassionate fashion. You are a good creature, worthy of the Good Magician's Answer. But are you aware that there is a payment in service required?”
“I learned that along the way,” he admitted ruefully. “I think I don't have the time. You see, when it rains in Mundania, and the Swan Knee River starts flowing again, the dam will soon overflow, and I must be there to honor my geis.”
“That is part of what I wanted to talk to you about. A year will not do, for you; you have a responsibility elsewhere. Instead, the Magician will settle for a single service of lesser duration, if that is satisfactory to you.”
Gary began to realize that his mission might be possible after all. “If I can return in time, then it's all right.”
“But it is an unusual service, and you may not wish to perform it,” she said. “That's why I had to talk to you first. The Magician's Answer is one thing, but the terms of the service are another. If you are not willing to do it, your meeting with Humfrey is pointless.”
“I'm willing, so long as it is brief. What is it?”
“To tutor a precocious human child.”
“But I don't know anything about humans, and less about their children,” he protested.
“Precisely. And this one is no ordinary child. She will be extremely difficult to handle.”
“I'm a winged monster! She'd think I was going to eat her! There must be a hundred better tutors for her.”
“Apparently there is only one who can do the job in the manner it needs to be done. I confess that my husband's dictations don't always make sense to me at the time, but he is invariably correct. We need you for this.”
Gary struggled, but could not come up with a suitable argument against this. His soft heart was betraying him again. “If she really needs my help—”
“She really does. But there is more.”
There always did seem to be more. “What more?” he asked warily.
“You will have to be transformed to human form for the duration.”
“Human form!” he cried, appalled.
“I realize that this is a considerable sacrifice for you, but it will be temporary. Magician Trent will transform you, and transform you back after the service is complete.”
“I suppose if it is temporary, I can stand it,” he agreed grudgingly. But privately he was wondering whether he ever should have listened to D. Mentia, who had gotten him into a crazy fix.
“There is more,” she said, with that tone.
“Are you trying to dissuade me from this?”
“No. I very much hope you will accept it. But fairness requires that you be warned. In human form you will not be as competent as you are naturally, and your flesh will not be stone. Your normal reflexes may lead you into mischief, such as assuming that thorns won't hurt or that dragon bites won't damage your flesh. You will need Magician-caliber protection until you change back.”
“But if you have a Magician for this, why can't he tutor the child?”
“Not he. She. She absolutely refuses to baby-sit a child alone. Perhaps she has reason; she is ninety-three years old.”
“But that's doddering, for a human! Flesh ages so much more quickly than stone.”
“She will be youthened to an effective age of about twenty-three. That's prime, for a human female.”
Gary shrugged. “Then I don't see the problem.”
“There could be a personality conflict. She is said to be not the easiest person to get along with.”
Gary strained his stony memory for what it knew about human Sorceresses. Only one bad name emerged. “Just so long as it isn't the Sorceress Iris. She is said to be impossible for anybody but her family to stand for more than two moments.”
The Gorgon merely looked at him. Her illusion face looked soberingly real.
Oh, no!
After a time he bowed to the inevitable. “Maybe if the service really is brief …”
“It should be. I repeat, my husband's dictates can seem peculiar, but there's always a rationale. It is quite possible that you will be glad of this experience, once it is over.”
“I shall hang on to that hope,” he said ruefully.
“Excellent. Now it is time to see Humfrey.”
“I will take him there,” Wira said. Gary had forgotten she was there.
He followed the young woman up endlessly winding stairways until they reached an obscure chamber buried deep within the castle. A gnomish man sat at a desk, poring over a monstrous tome. This was the Good Magician Humfrey; it could be no other. He looked about a hundred years old.
“Father Humfrey, here is Gary Gargoyle,” Wira said.
“Well, let's hear your Question,” the gnome grumped.
“How can I more readily purify the water?”
“Get a philter.” The face returned to the tome.
“But—”
“Now don't try to argue with him.” Wira said urgently.
“That only makes him grumpier.”
“But I have no idea where—”
“Ask Hiatus,” Humfrey said without looking up from the page.
“Who is Interruption?” Gary asked as Wira guided him back down the tortuous stairway.
“Hiatus. He's Lacuna's twin brother. He grows noses and things on surfaces. He must know where the philter is.”
“But how can I find it, when I have to tutor this child?” he asked plaintively.
“Take her with you!” the Good Magician's annoyed voice floated after them.
“I suppose I can do that,” Gary agreed. “But this still seems perplexingly confused.”
“Things usually work out in the end,” Wira said reassuringly “Somehow. Even if coincidence, chance, and common sense have to be inordinately strained.”
Gary hoped that was the case. Once more he wished that the demoness had left him alone. His life had been simple; now it was unduly complicated. But he also had to admit that it had been boring, and now it was interesting.
Chapter 3
IRIS
Gary found himself outside the castle, with no idea where to go next. In the confusion of the Good Magician's grudging bits of Answer, Gary had forgotten to get lesser information he needed. Such as how to find Magician Trent or the Sorceress Iris.
He gazed at the moat and the mixed terrain beyond.
Geis of the Gargoyle Page 3