Mazes and Monsters

by Rona Jaffe

  “Yes.”

  “Do you always tell the truth?”

  “No,” the sword said.

  She looked at Pardieu and Freelik in angry exasperation. “What do we do?”

  “Wait,” Freelik said. “Sword, can you talk?”

  “Yes,” the sword said.

  “Do you always tell the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell the truth just now?”

  “No.”

  “It tells the truth every third time!” Freelik squeaked triumphantly. “Now we can control it.”

  Glacia smiled. She raised the sword high, filled with the sense of her own new power. The third answer had been that the unknown room was neutral. “Let us advance,” she said to the others.

  They passed through the neutral room in safety, moving ever nearer to their goal. Up a narrow, winding staircase they went, steps that kept moving down every time they climbed higher, forcing them to run just to stay in the same place, until finally—after considering the consequences of not having it later—Pardieu threw his one-use-only spell of paralyzation and made the stairs stand still. It would be a long time before he could earn another such spell, and he would most probably need it for a randomly encountered monster, but if he hadn’t used it for the stairs they might have been trapped there forever. He thought that a Holy Man had more responsibilities than anyone else. He had to make more complicated choices, and he could heal as well as hurt. That was good, for Pardieu did not like to cause destruction, even of evil beings. He could slash with his sword as well as any but Glacia, but it made him feel guilty to kill, even though he did it only in self-defense. If he could use his magic spells to charm wicked spirits into being good, it was better.

  Once in every generation there was a Holy Man, who learned all his secrets from the Holy Man who had come before him. Pardieu’s mentor had been a legendary Holy Man who had vanished many years ago, but who some said would never die and had merely chosen to spend his last days in peaceful retirement. Pardieu was not so sure. Sometimes, as he made his way through this treacherous maze, he felt that his mentor had been there before, perhaps was there still, waiting for him. The great one had gone away alone. He had enough power to do that, without a band of companions. But even the most experienced of Holy Men sometimes found themselves in unanticipated trouble.

  Pardieu’s hand tightened around the little pouch of spells and potions he wore attached to his belt. He had given away a very strong one, but he had kept the most important one. Let others sing their songs and tell their legends of the olden days. He was the one who by his heroism would rescue and bring back the greatest Holy Man of all—The Great Hall.

  None of the others knew it, but tonight he was not Freelik—he was Jay Jay. He had already gotten bored with the game. Compared to the way he wanted to play it, in the real mazes of the caverns, this was child’s play. He went through the moves, pretending for the others, but he was waiting for his chance to die. Now that he intended to die, it wasn’t so easy. He couldn’t make an obvious blunder; the others were too smart for that, especially Daniel, who felt responsible for the flow of the game.

  Now Daniel had called up a bunch of the undead, and there was a fierce battle. This was going to go on all night, Jay Jay just knew it, and he felt dismayed. Getting rid of the undead took ages if they were the ones who weren’t afraid of light, which these obviously were not. He prayed for an unlucky throw of the dice. If everybody got tired they would quit after they routed the undead, and then he’d never be able to convince them to start his new game in the caverns. What a rotten way to spend Christmas vacation—still in suspense!

  Kate was rolling great numbers tonight; he wished they were in Las Vegas. She was sending the undead back where they came from at a fast rate. Come on, Daniel, undead are boring, kid stuff. Let’s get on with it.… Hurray, the last of the undead had fled, leaving their black rags behind them. Now their brave troupe was advancing into a room where there was a pit, and deep inside the pit was glitter. It could be precious gems, or perhaps it was a trap. Daniel wouldn’t let them have such a big treasure so soon, would he? Maybe it was just a thin layer of diamonds, and under it were lethal spikes. Jay Jay remembered the pit with spikes from an old game, and it didn’t take much imagination to add the camouflage. Jay Jay knew Daniel’s mind pretty well by now. He wondered if Daniel knew his.

  A smart Sprite would use his sonar to test the pit before jumping into it to gather up the treasure. Tonight Jay Jay did not intend to be a smart Sprite.

  “Freelik jumps into the pit!” he cried, feigning excitement. “He has his hands out to gather up the jewels. How much can he take?”

  Clack, went the dice. “The pit is filled with sharp spikes,” Daniel said sadly. “The precious gems were a trap. The Sprite is impaled and dies.”

  “No!” Kate cried. “Pardieu, save him! Use your spell to raise the dead.”

  “Pardieu does not have enough points yet to raise the dead,” the Maze Controller said. “Freelik is dead.”

  “Oh, shit,” Jay Jay said, pretending to be very disappointed. He moved back out of their circle, out of the game.

  “It just won’t be the same without him,” Kate said.

  You bet it won’t, Jay Jay thought, and waited.

  At three in the morning they were rehashing the game. Lying on the floor of Daniel’s room, tired and bleary-eyed, finishing up the last of their party food which Jay Jay had brought in after he got killed, they went over what had gone wrong. They all agreed Freelik should have used his sonar; that was a fatal blunder. Now Jay Jay would start again as a beginner, with a new character, and they would complete the game until they won or everyone got killed. None of them were particularly enthusiastic about this.

  “If Jay Jay has to start with no powers he’s not going to be any help,” Kate said. “Besides, it’s more fun when we’re all equal.”

  “Well, I didn’t kill him,” Daniel said.

  “You did so,” Jay Jay said.

  “You weren’t paying attention,” Daniel said.

  “Let’s not argue about it,” Robbie said peaceably.

  “What do you want to do, Jay Jay?” Kate asked.

  “Well …”

  Seductively, Jay Jay laid out the pros and cons of stopping the game right here. Then he went on with his suggestion about playing in the caverns. As the Maze Controller, and having already thought about how to bring the game up to this higher, more vivid level, he would arrange everything. They would love it, he promised them. It would be something no one else had ever done. It wouldn’t be just a fantasy—it would truly be the game.

  They were sleepy, disappointed by the loss of Freelik, and vulnerable. Jay Jay promised them wonders. He watched them begin to weaken, to come around to his side. Kate was afraid of the dark, so she would hate the dark caverns, and therefore, being Kate, she would force herself to go into them. Jay Jay knew he had won her. Robbie was always so agreeable that Jay Jay knew he would say yes as soon as Kate did. Robbie certainly couldn’t admit to being afraid of something that didn’t scare Kate. As for Daniel, his intellectual curiosity was greater than either his pride in his old game or his fear of danger. He needed a new frontier as much as any of them. Daniel smiled and nodded, and even looked excited now. Jay Jay felt a great glow of triumph.

  “Then we’ll play in the caverns after Christmas vacation,” Jay Jay said. “All in favor say aye.”

  “Aye!” they chorused.

  Then they all looked around at each other excitedly and smiled with anticipation. “And the game has to be our secret,” Daniel said. “If the Dean finds out we’re using the caverns we’ll be expelled.”

  They nodded conspiratorially.

  They thought they were beginning an adventure.

  PART TWO:

  RANDOMLY ENCOUNTERED MONSTERS

  CHAPTER 1

  Kate found it hard to throw off the spell of the game at first when she went home to San Francisco. Here at h
ome she was a different person: a daughter, a sister, an old school friend. Robbie called her every day, and they agreed not to discuss the game on the phone in case anyone picked up the receiver. But after a few days back with her family she took up her life just where she had left it.

  She loved the big old airy house with the bare wood floors, the old rag rugs her mother collected, the antique quilts she’d bought before they became fashionable and so expensive, the silly painted antique toys. Her mother believed in plants instead of curtains, so from her bedroom window Kate could see the faraway hills and bay sparkling through a forest of green leaves. There was always a cat or the dog underfoot, or jumping into a lap to be loved. How could her father have left all this?

  There had been some changes since she’d been away at college. Her mother, who was both frightened and exhilarated by law school, had lost weight and started wearing jeans. Her younger sister Belinda had grown three inches and had her braces removed; she was taller than Kate. Belinda had gone completely boy-crazy. There was always a group of noisy, giggling little girls in her room, talking about boys, and those same sex objects—gangly, shy, pimpled—came ringing the doorbell at all hours as if their families didn’t own a phone. But there were also plenty of boys who did use the phone, and Kate had to fight to get a chance to use it to speak to her own friends.

  Her best friends Liz and Janny came over and they made tofu in the kitchen, a long drawn out process. Liz had decided to try becoming a vegetarian. She was at Harvard, and Janny was at Berkeley: the three of them had known each other since first grade. Kate had never told them about The Incident in the Laundry Room—it had been too painful and now it was too late.

  “How’s the food at Grant?” Liz asked.

  “Vile. Beyond vile.”

  “How’s your love life?”

  Kate smiled. “Great! I’m in love, and he loves me. His name is Robbie, and he’s really gorgeous. Blond hair, green eyes, and he swims. And he’s smart.”

  “Do you live together?”

  “No. He wants to, but I don’t.”

  “You’re right,” Liz said. “When you live with a man you have to get along with his roommates too. You really have to like them because you’re all on top of each other.”

  “He doesn’t have any roommates,” Kate said. “I just like to be independent.”

  “How come all these soybeans make so little of this gunk?” Janny asked.

  “That’s the way it is,” Liz said.

  “Are you sure it’s a lot cheaper to make it? It’s a lot of trouble.”

  “It’s good—you’ll love it.”

  “I have had three tragic romances since September,” Janny said.

  “Tragic for who?” Liz asked.

  “That’s a good question.”

  “We’re thinking of going to Europe this summer,” Liz said to Kate. “Do you want to go?”

  “This summer?” It wasn’t even Christmas yet and they were making plans for next summer. Kate could hardly imagine summer, it was so far away. “Is it expensive?”

  “Not the way we’re going to do it.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Okay.” Liz busied herself efficiently with stirring and straining.

  Neither of them had said: Bring Robbie. Kate realized they didn’t think her romance would last that long. She herself had kept from thinking about it. She thought how much she would really like to go to Europe with her two lifelong friends, the places they would see, the adventures they would share. She couldn’t bring Robbie if they didn’t each bring a man because she’d always have to be with Robbie and it wouldn’t be the same. She thought guiltily how being in love made you so committed; you couldn’t go off with other people for a long period of time because you missed the person you loved, and knowing he missed you made you feel like a rat. Maybe she could go to Europe with Robbie next summer, just the two of them. They could meet Liz and Janny somewhere for a week or so. She’d see how things went.

  The first part of Christmas vacation passed very pleasantly for Kate—there were parties almost every night, and sometimes just a few friends got together for dinner or to go roller-skating or dancing. Even though her mother had a lot of studying to do, she had managed to decorate the house as she always did with fragrant pine branches and wreaths, and there was a big tree Kate and Belinda and their mother decorated together with all the old ornaments they’d had ever since they could remember, which her mother saved carefully every year for the next Christmas. Kate’s favorite was the tiny winged horse her father had bought her when she was little. He’d told her its name was Pegasus, and it was legendary. Each Christmas after he’d left, the little winged-horse decoration had made her feel sad, but now she felt nothing but a resigned nostalgia. She knew that somewhere deep below there was real hurt, but she refused to allow herself to feel it anymore.

  She had spoken to her father on the telephone, and he had insisted that she come to stay with him and Norine for a few days. Norine, his twenty-three-year-old wife, whom Kate called Chlorine behind her back, who embarrassed Kate because she was too young and sexy in a trite-looking way to be married to her father.

  “I could just come for the day, Dad.”

  “Don’t just come for the day. Come for the weekend. What are fathers for?”

  I’ll tell you what they’re for, Kate thought.

  “Besides,” he went on, “you have to try our new hot tub.”

  “The attack of the giant mold,” Kate said. The game jumped into her mind.

  “It’s not moldy, silly girl, it’s clean.”

  “I’m not taking my clothes off,” Kate said.

  “We won’t. Bring a bikini. And your running shoes. We’ll run and you’ll feel terrific.”

  “Okay,” she said, trying not to sound ungracious. She wanted to see him, she missed him, but she couldn’t stand to see him with Chlorine. But she’d just have to get used to it, the way she’d gotten used to everything else.

  “I have a blind date this weekend,” her mother told her. “Actually I met him once—I was introduced to him at Marie’s party last month. I know it’s going to be a disaster, but Marie says he’s the best bachelor in California.”

  “I.e.: breathing,” Kate said. Her mother laughed. “You’re going to wear makeup, I hope.”

  “Of course. I always wear lipstick.”

  “Lipstick isn’t makeup. You have to do your eyes too, and wear blusher. I’ll teach you.”

  “All right,” her mother said, surprisingly compliant. Kate realized she was beginning to notice there was a whole new life out there waiting for her to take a piece of it. She wanted her mother to have a good time and be popular. She shouldn’t have to be alone.

  As she put eye makeup on her mother in front of the mirror, demonstrating what she should and shouldn’t do, Kate felt as if she were the sophisticated grown-up and her mother the child. It was a nice feeling and made her feel even closer than usual.

  “I haven’t told you much about Robbie,” Kate said.

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, he’s really a very sweet person. I don’t think he could ever do anything to hurt anybody. He’s gentle and considerate … kind of quiet … very sensitive. He loves me a lot. And he’s so good-looking you can’t believe it.”

  “He sounds too good to be true,” her mother said. “How old is he?”

  “Same as I am.”

  “Maybe I should go out with eighteen-year-olds.”

  “You could. Some of them like older women. Dad never had any trouble going out with young girls.”

  “Some of them like older men,” her mother said gently. She peered at herself in the mirror. “I don’t look too bad with this stuff on.”

  “You look terrific! And Mom … have a little haircut. Just get that old permanent trimmed off. Your hair will look a lot shinier.”

  Her mother laughed. “Okay, okay. When you come back from your father’s you can give me a report about the best ex-bach
elor in California, and I’ll tell you about my adventure.”

  “How come that guy you’re going to go out with is still a bachelor?” Kate asked suspiciously.

  “He’s divorced.”

  “Well, just be careful.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  She left her mother still laughing and went to her room to pack. What was so funny about a little daughterly concern? Her mother had led a pretty sheltered life.

  Her father’s house was in commuting distance of her mother’s, but it seemed to be in a different world. He had two acres of land, trees, a hot tub, a Jacuzzi, and privacy. On the upper floor he had a sun deck where in summer you could sunbathe nude. He greeted her in his running clothes, his hair damp with fashionable sweat, his tanned skin as brown as a coconut. She was sure he used a sunlamp in the winter.

  “Kate! You brought the sun!” He hugged her. He did not smell of fashionable sweat; he smelled of men’s cologne. “Norine! Kate’s here!”

  “You look good, Dad,” Kate said.

  “I’m up to five miles a day,” he said proudly. “Every day, even in the rain.” He patted his stomach. “Coming down. Fifty sit-ups every morning.”

  “Wow.”

  Chlorine came walking languidly out of the house, wearing a string bikini and a cowboy hat. Her long, sun-streaked blond hair hung down to her large breasts, a thick hank of hair on each side as if she had carefully separated it in the middle. She had a pretty, starlet kind of face, black-dyed eyelashes, and the body of a Playboy centerfold. She gave Kate a sisterly sort of hug. Kate preferred not to think of it as a stepmotherly hug.

  “Hurry up and put your bathing suit on,” Chlorine said.

  The guest room was cool and dim, the shutters closed against the sun. There was the splash of bright flowered cotton fabric against white wicker, and a blooming poinsettia plant on the dresser. A pile of the new magazines lay neatly on the night table next to the bed. There was a poinsettia plant in the bathroom too, and a brand-new cake of expensive-looking soap. The room was immaculate; so had the house seemed as Kate walked through it. He’s found someone else to take care of him, she thought; just like the one he traded in, only younger.