Twenty paces later he came to a handsome young man snoozing against a pillow bush. He remembered that Magician Trent had been rejuvenated, so this could be him.
He did not want to disturb the Magician, but he didn't have much choice. “Magician Trent?” he inquired hesitantly.
The man woke. “Yes. Are you lost? Just settle down anywhere you're comfortable; the moment you relax, you'll tune out, and years or centuries will pass in an instant.”
“No, I was lost, but now I'm found. That is, I found you. I am Gary Gargoyle.”
“Hello Gary Gargoyle,” the Magician responded politely. “You were looking for me?”
“The Good Magician didn't tell you?”
“Humfrey never wastes information if he can help it. What did he tell you?”
“Actually he did not tell me much. But others in the castle explained, I think.”
“And what did they explain?” the Magician inquired patiently.
Gary grimaced. “That you would transform me into manform for this quest. That I would have to baby-sit a difficult human child.”
“Ah, yes. Surprise. She will be a handful.”
“And that the Sorceress Iris would come with me.”
The Magician nodded. “Now it comes together. Iris did want to go on a quest where she could be useful. This must be it. We shall have to notify her.”
Gary was amazed. “The Good Magician told you nothing about me? You have to take this all on faith?”
Magician Trent smiled. He had a warm smile, and it was reassuring. “I have known Humfrey a long time. I understand his ways. This is his way. Come; we shall rouse my wife.” He got lithely to his feet and walked deeper into the depths of the pool.
Bemused, Gary followed. Trent led him to a weird kind of chamber. It seemed to have been fashioned from old cooked cereal. “She is of advanced years,” the Magician remarked, glancing back. “She prefers a soft residence. This is her mushroom.”
Now Gary recognized the configuration: a room made of mush. Probably it was pretty soft throughout.
Inside the mushroom was a mushbed, and on the bed lay a distressingly ancient old woman, sleeping. “Iris,” the Magician said, “your quest has come.”
The crone's eyes flickered open. “Is it morning?” she asked sleepily.
“Who knows?” Magician Trent said, smiling faintly.
“Your quest is here.”
Then another strange thing happened. The three of them were abruptly no longer in a room of mush under dim waters, but in the receiving chamber of an elegant palace.
Rather, Gary and the Magician were; the hag had been replaced by an elegant queen of moderately middling age for her species. He knew she was a queen, because she wore a crown as well as a sumptuous ornately bejeweled royal gown.
The Queen looked around. “But where is the Quest person?” she inquired, a royal frown crossing her noble features.
“Allow me to introduce Gary Gargoyle,” Magician Trent said, gesturing to Gary.
The Queen looked at Gary, blinking. “But I can't stand gargoyles!” she protested. “They're horrible dank stony grotesque monsters.”
“And this,” the Magician continued grandly, “is Queen Emeritus Iris, Sorceress of Illusion. All that you behold at the moment is her work.”
Gary was amazed. He knew of illusion, but this was so much more than he had imagined that it was daunting. The withered old harridan was making all this? It seemed so real!
“Pleased to meet you, gargoyle, I'm sure,” the Queen said, seeming not sure at all.
“Likewise, your majesty,” Gary said with similar conviction.
“Of course I am to transform him to manform for the occasion,” Trent added. Iris looked relieved. “And Humfrey left me some youth elixir to delete seventy years from your physical age, my dear, when the time came. It has come.”
Iris looked delighted. “I will be twenty-three again!”
“I wish I didn't have to be transformed,” Gary said.
“But at least I can return to my natural shape after the quest is done.”
“I assure you that such transformation will improve your—um, that is, that you will get used to it,” Iris said, evidently making an effort to be polite.
“I have the impression you don't very much like me,” Gary said. “I assure you that the feeling is mu—”
“Impressions are transitory,” Trent said quickly. “It is wise not to judge by anything other than direct experience.”
Iris nodded. “I apologize for being prejudiced, Gary Gargoyle. I had a bad experience some time ago, with which a gargoyle was associated, but actually the creature didn't do anything, and anyway I'm sure you're not like that.”
“I hope I'm not,” Gary said cautiously.
“Just what is the quest?” Iris inquired.
“I have to tutor a child.”
“A child of merfolk?” she asked. “I understand that gargoyles know something of water.”
“It is the little daughter of Grundy Golem and Rapunzel,” Trent explained. “A tyke they call Surprise.”
“I didn't realize that they had a baby delivered,” Iris said. “It must have been after my time.”
“Yes, it was,” Trent agreed. “She was delivered to them a year and a half ago.”
“A squalling baby!” Iris said with distaste. “What kind of tutoring could a gargoyle give her? Swimming lessons?”
“She is six years old,” Trent said.
She turned to him. “Are you teasing me. Magician? I distinctly heard you say she was delivered a year and a half ago.”
“Delivered at the age of five years,” he explained.
Both Gary and Iris stared at him. So great was the Sorceress' shock that the illusion palace developed fuzziness.
“But that is not the most remarkable thing about her,” Trent continued blithely. “She has an impossible talent.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Iris said, getting a faltering grip on her manner and her illusion. “Except that any person have more than a single talent.”
“She seems to possess an indefinite number of talents,” Trent said.
“How can you know this?” she demanded. “It must be illusion.”
“I met her in the course of my own quest, when I was helping Gloha Goblin-Harpy find her ideal husband.”
“Oh, is there a male flying goblin?” she asked. “I thought she was unique.”
“There is now. I converted him from an invisible giant.”
“She married a giant? However did they come together?”
“That is a story for another tome. This story is about a remarkable child who I think will be a handful like none other. Why she should require the special attention of a gargoyle I have no notion, but I suspect it will be an adventure finding out.”
Iris sighed. “I should have known there would be a stiff price for youthening. But I would give half my soul to be young again in body, and this seems to fall within that range. Let's get on with it.”
“As you wish, my dear. First let me transform Gary Gargoyle, since this is his quest.”
“Oh, I'm satisfied to wait,” Gary said, being as uneager to change his form as the Sorceress was to change hers.
But even as he spoke, something truly awful happened to him.
He found himself standing on his two hind legs, while his front legs changed their orientation, becoming shorter and far less sturdy. His head diminished and his teeth shrank into tiny dull pegs, almost useless for combat. His forepaws became weak fleshy digits with pale flat nails.
And his wings, 0 horrors, disappeared entirely. He felt naked. But he wasn't; there was a cloth covering hanging on his torso.
Iris surveyed him. “Well, that's an improvement. He makes a halfway handsome young man.” She turned to Trent. “Now it's my turn.”
“To be sure.” Trent handed her a vial containing a clear liquid. “Drink and be merry, my dear.”
She almost snatched it and put it to her
lips, gulping it down. Then she stood there, unchanged.
“Perhaps we should dispense with the illusion for the nonce,” Trent suggested.
“Oh. Yes,” she agreed.
Then the mushroom reappeared around them, and the water of the pool. But the shriveled old woman was gone.
Now there stood a woman in the most vibrant flush of human youth. The effect was diminished somewhat by her clothing, which hung on her body in some places and was stretched painfully tight in others.
“Perhaps you should change your dress,” Trent suggested with three-quarters of a smile.
Iris looked down at herself. “Yes. Out with you both while I see to some alterations.”
“Oh, we have no objection if you prefer to strip now and remake your outfit,” Trent said.
“Out!” she cried.
“Women tend to be unreasonable for no particular reason,” Magician Trent remarked as they stepped out and heard the mushdoor slam closed behind them with a squishy sound.
But Gary had problems of his own. The moment he took a two-legged step he lost his balance. He wasn't used to this vertical positioning.
Trent steadied him with a hand. “You can do it,” he said reassuringly. “Most of my transformations have no trouble; the ways of their bodies are inherent. But you have had your natural form for centuries, so may be a bit set in your ways. Emulate me.” He strode a few steps, turned, and strode back.
Gary started a stride, tilted over, caught himself, and veered off the other way. But in a few steps he began to get the hang of it. It was after all possible to walk this way, however awkward it seemed.
“Soon you will not even notice the difference,” the Magician reassured him. “But your intellectual adjustment may be more difficult. You have human form now, but your spirit remains gargoyle.”
Already Gary was learning. He found that he did best when he simply let his body handle motion, instead of trying to dictate to it. The human form required constant balancing, but seemed to have inherent mechanisms to accomplish this. He also found that he had to be careful of the clothing, which tended to snag on things in ways that stone fur did not. He would have preferred simply to remove the clothing and be natural, as before, but realized that this was not the human way. All human beings he had seen were dressed, and though parts of their flesh showed, the central torsos seldom did.
The mushdoor opened and Iris emerged. Now her clothing fit, being tight around her narrow waist, loose around her upper torso, and flaring around her slender legs. Gary was of course no judge of human anatomy, but he suspected that she was now a reasonably aesthetic example of her species.
“You look ravishing, my dear,” Magician Trent said politely. “Youth becomes you.”
“Thank you,” Iris said, and smiled at him. She looked nice when she did that, for a human. Even her hair, which had been whitish and straggly before, when not enhanced by illusion, was now a rich reddish brown, and it flopped in loose curls about her shoulders.
“Now I think you must be on your way,” the Magician said. “We do not know what time constraints are in operation.”
Iris looked as if she might wish to linger in the pool somewhat longer, but did not argue. “How do we find the golem residence?” she asked him.
“I'm sure the demoness will be able to locate it, once you are on the surface.” He turned to Gary. “And you should be able to summon the demoness by speaking her name. She seems to be interested in you, so will probably appear.”
“But we aren't on the surface,” Gary said, using his funny human mouth for the first time. “We'll need to find another figgle.”
“A figgle!” Iris exclaimed. “I wouldn't want to mount one of those oversized worms.”
“There should be an easier way,” Trent said. “I believe that Brain Coral has a private freight elevator to ship freed creatures up in.” He lifted his chin. “Coral?”
A golden glow appeared before them. It was in the form of a path leading away.
Trent smiled. “Follow the yellow slick road,” he suggested.
“Yes, we had better,” Iris agreed. “Come on, gargoyle man. We have a quest to get out of the way.”
Gary shrugged, using his human shoulders, and followed her. He still wasn't sure that this quest was a good notion, but he seemed to be stuck for it.
The path led up out of the pool and across the dry cave floor. Neither Gary nor Iris dripped as they emerged from the water; they were dry. Gary realized that the pool was magical in several ways.
But as he walked through air instead of water, the slight change in environment eroded his orientation, and he began to stumble. He half fell into Iris.
“What's the matter with you?” she demanded sharply.
“Are you trying to paw me?”
“If I had my paws, I wouldn't be stumbling,” Gary said, embarrassed.
“Oh, that's right, you're as new to human form as I am to youth,” she said. “And you are an animal, so pawing has no meaning for you.”
“Should it?” he asked, perplexed.
“Just follow the path and try to stay steady.”
In two or perhaps three moments Gary adjusted to the different feel of balancing in air, and was able to walk without stumbling.
“You might try swinging your hands,” Iris suggested.
“Swinging my hands?”
“It helps you balance when you walk.”
He moved his hands in circles as he took another step, but it didn't seem to help.
“Like this,” she said, and strode briskly forward, her arms pumping vigorously.
He tried it, but suffered worse problems than before.
“Opposite sides, dummy,” she snapped.
“Opposite?” he asked blankly. This was all very confusing. When he walked four footed, one hind leg came forward and landed before the forefoot on that side took off.
“Here.” She sounded exasperated. She came to stand behind him, putting her hands on his human elbows. “This foot, that hand.” She pushed at his left leg with hers, and shoved his right elbow forward.
Gary tried it, putting the left foot ahead and bracing himself to retain his balance.
“Now the other two,” she said, shoving at his right leg and left elbow. “And swing back your arm on the opposite side. This time don't stop; just keep going.”
“I'll fall,” he said, wary of this awkward combination of moves.
“No you won't. Try it.”
He tried it, and got all fouled up. He began to fall, and she was entangled with him. She braced her legs between his and looped her arms around his chest, hauling him back to upright. They swayed precariously together before steadying.
“You were right,” she gasped. “You tried to fall.”
But now that he was steady, he became aware of something else. “Your front is soft.”
She let go of him and stepped back. “This isn't working. Don't you coordinate your limbs when you walk four footed? I don't see why you should have so much trouble.”
“Yes. I have a four-beat gait when I walk, two-beat when I trot, three-beat when I canter—”
“Two-beat!” she cried. “That's it! Move your arms as if you're trotting.”
He tried it—and suddenly he was beautifully in balance.
“So human folk trot when they're walking,” he said, amazed. “But what do they do when they're trotting?”
“They still trot,” she said.
“Then what about cantering?”
“They remain hot to trot,” she said firmly.
“They have no other gaits? Surely when they gallop—”
“No! They trot at any speed. They've got permanent trots.” Then she looked surprised, but did not amend her statement.
“The trots,” he agreed. “It seems so limited.” But it did work for him. He found he was able to go at any speed, using the same opposite-side arm-leg coordination. She had solved his problem. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome,”
she said.
They moved with greater ease along the glowing path.
Soon they came to a blank wall. The path had dead-ended in a squared-off cave. “What now?” Gary asked.
“We must have to do something.” Iris examined the wall. There were several glowing spots on it. She touched the lowest one.
There was a grinding clank behind them. Startled, Gary turned. Suddenly the floor gave way. Gary and Iris, both alarmed by the sensation of falling, grabbed on to each other for support. Now her softness was jammed against his front, but he didn't object, because their balance together did seem to be better than it was apart.
The floor was still falling. But so were the walls. The two of them seemed to be in a plunging cage. There was even a wall behind them now, where one hadn't been before. It had a window, and through the window they could see a dimly lighted wall zooming upward.
Then the chamber slowed, and they felt heavy. It clanked to a halt, and the windowed wall split in half and the halves parted and separated and slid into the walls on either side, leaving them standing in another dead-end cave.
They pushed away from each other and stepped back along the passage. But there was no glowing path. “This does not seem like the surface,” Iris remarked.
There was a rumbling roar, as of some enormously gigantic huge big animal sounding defiance. The walls shook.
“We went down,” Gary said. “It must be deep.” He really did not feel like remaining here long, especially while not in his natural stone body.
“Do you think I touched the wrong spot?”
Gary was privately gratified that the Sorceress was as doubtful in this situation as he was. “Maybe if the bottom glow made it go down, the top one would make it go up.”
They returned to the dead end. Iris touched the top glow. This time Gary saw what happened. The two halves of the wall came out from the sides and clanked together.
Then the newly formed cage lifted, carrying them up with it. They were being elevated.
The cage quickly got up speed, and they saw the dim lights plunging downward beyond the little window.
Sometimes there seemed to be holes in the wall, and he realized that these could be other passages. There were many levels to this cave. Then the cage slowed, and stopped moving, and the walls parted.
Geis of the Gargoyle Page 5