Geis of the Gargoyle Page 15

“The philter!” Gary said. “Do you really think so?”

  “More likely the train carried people to wherever the philter was,” Hiatus said. “Or wherever else they wanted to go. I think some zombie animals would have been better for such transport, but they evidently had odd tastes.”

  Iris' mouth quirked. “Clearly so,” she agreed. “Perhaps we can follow this train as it travels, and see if it passes the philter.”

  “I think I'll ride it,” Mentia said. She floated up and toward the entrance steps at the end of the nearest car.

  “Me too!” Surprise said, clapping her hands. She ran to the steps and scrambled up them.

  “You can't do that!” Iris cried, dashing after the child.

  “Nyaa, nyaa, you can't catch me!” Surprise called, running inside the car.

  “We shall see about that!” Iris retorted grimly. She charged up the steps after the child.

  Hiatus exchanged a heavy glance with Gary. “Of course we know this isn't possible,” he said.

  “But we had better see that those three females don't get into trouble,” Gary agreed.

  The two of them followed the others up the steps and into the long car. “This is sheer madness,” Hiatus said.

  “This is the place for it,” Gary agreed.

  Iris and Surprise were in the main compartment of the car. The child was running up and down the long central aisle, while Iris was sitting in one of the comfortable reclining chairs. She glanced back and saw them. “Sit down, men,” she suggested. “If I can walk into one of my own illusions, why not you too?”

  They joined her. “You know this is crazy,” Gary said.

  Mentia appeared. “This is a feature of joint imagination,” she said. “I think the madness has lent substance to the Sorceress' illusion. Thus what we are experiencing is a partial truth.”

  There was a jerk that shook them all. “The train is moving!” Hiatus cried. “We must get off it!”

  Iris shrugged. “Why? Since it's all imagination, why not go along for the ride?”

  Hiatus looked surprised. “I suppose we can.” He peered out the window. “The city is going by outside.”

  “This will make it easier to search the city,” Iris said.

  “We might as well enjoy it.”

  They looked out the windows as the train of thought gathered speed. The buildings seemed to be moving back while the train was still, but Gary knew that was just another effect of illusion. Since, as Iris pointed out, it was all just imagination, it hardly mattered. But where did they think they were going?

  Gary pondered this, as he watched the buildings thin out, to be replaced by trees and fields, with an occasional small lake. His quest was to find the philter. Would this train of thought take him there—if he thought it should?

  Once he had the philter, he wouldn't care how it had been achieved. So he concentrated on that: philter, philter, philter.

  The train slowed. “We are arriving somewhere,” Iris remarked.

  Was this where the philter was? Gary kept up his thought, doing his best to train the train to respond.

  The train squealed to a halt. “I believe we have arrived,” Mentia said. “I am not at all sure we shall be comfortable with where we are. There is entirely too much madness here to suit me.”

  “Any time we get tired of it,” Iris said, “I can simply abolish the illusion, and we will be back among the ruins.”

  “Perhaps,” Mentia said grimly.

  That bothered Gary, because Mentia was now their sanest member. But he did not want to leave the illusion until he had located the philter.

  They got out of their chairs and walked in file toward the exit.

  Chapter 7

  HINGE

  Gary led the way out of the train, wary of what might lie outside. The illusion of the ancient city remained, but he wasn't sure whether they had actually traveled anywhere in reality. If they had, where had the train of thought taken them? Here in the madness, anything could be dangerous or non-existent, or both.

  There was a small group of people gathered on the station platform. One of them evidently recognized him, for she stepped briskly forward. She was armed, and her hair was militantly coifed.

  “Hannah Barbarian!” he exclaimed, dismayed. “What are you doing here?”

  “My lord, surely you jest,” she replied diffidently.

  Could he be mistaken? She looked like the aggressive woman he had encountered at the Good Magician's castle, but she wasn't acting like her. “Am I confusing you with someone else?”

  She smiled, which was another disconcerting thing.

  “My lord Gar the Good, you know I exist merely to serve your will. Let me help you down the step. You are surely fatigued after your wearisome travel.” And she reached forth to take firm hold of his elbow, steadying him as he descended.

  Gary got smart, realizing that this had to be an aspect of illusion or madness. “I confess I am a bit confused. Humor me. Your name is—?”

  “Hanna the Handmaiden, of course, my lord, as it has ever been. I see you are in sore need of my ministrations.”

  It seemed better to play along with this illusion rather than challenge it. Maybe Sorceress Iris was having a bit of fun with him.

  But Iris was the next off the train. “What is this?” she asked, startled.

  “0 Queen Iri, have you forgotten me?” Hanna asked. “I am handmaiden to my lord Gar the Good, loyal and subservient.”

  “Subservient?” Gary asked, surprised again.

  “My lord, you tease me cruelly,” Hanna said, looking woeful. “When was I ever other than your most humble and obedient servant?”

  “I didn't conjure this image,” Iris said, looking perplexed and faintly alarmed. “This madness is getting out of hand.”

  “Not for naught is she called Iri the Irate,” Hanna murmured to Gary. Then, smiling brightly, to Iris: “My lady, I apologize most humbly for making you angry.”

  “I said mad, not angry,” Iris said. But she seemed to have come to the same decision as Gary: to play along until she had a better notion what was happening.

  Surprise appeared next “And how good it is to see you again. Princess Supi the Super,” Hanna said. “I pray your esteemed mother the Queen has not been wroth with you too.”

  The child, startled, changed color. She turned bright green. “Supi the Super?” she echoed. “I like it!”

  Iris glanced back. “Dear, you had better change back before someone notices,” she said guardedly.

  Surprise changed to blue, then back to normal. “Super!” she repeated, smiling.

  “My lord, do you encourage her in this?” Hanna inquired anxiously.

  “Encourage her?” Gary said blankly. “How can I prevent her from doing whatever she chooses?”

  “But you are her tutor, my lord. It is your prerogative to instruct her in all things mannerly and magical, so that she does not waste her powers.”

  “Waste her powers?” Gary was still having trouble orienting.

  “You know as well as do we all that though Supi, being the sole heir to the crown of Xanth, has more magic than any other, she can invoke each aspect of it once and once only. Thus it is horrible to waste it frivolously, lest we need it for the final conjuration.”

  “Once only?” Gary asked, and saw that Iris was as surprised as he. “Can this be true?”

  But the next person was descending from the train. This was Mentia.

  “Ah, my lady Menti the Mentor,” Hanna said. “And it is good to see you again, too.”

  “Mentor to what?” Iris asked, her voice carefully controlled.

  “Why to Princess Supi, of course. For she is ever in need of attention, and you her mother are naturally often too busy to be bothered.”

  Iris frowned, but did not respond. Mentia, rationally quick on the uptake, merely nodded. “Certainly we take excellent care of the child,” she agreed.

  Now Hiatus appeared. Another person stepped from the background group. �
�My lord Hiat!” she cried. “I am so glad to see you safely home.”

  “Desiree!” he cried, astonished. For indeed it was she.

  “Desi the Desolate,” she agreed. “Surely you have not so soon forgotten the nymph you rescued from evil and befriended, and who now serves you in any way you allow?”

  “But—” he started.

  “We all have titles or descriptions, it seems,” Gary told him. “We feel it best not to debate them.”

  “Descriptions?”

  “Hiat the Hedonist,” Hanna offered helpfully.

  “I never called you that!” Desi protested. “I honor you as uncle of Princess Supi, closest in the royal descent after her, and a bold and handsome man.”

  Hiatus seemed stunned by this description, but not annoyed. He, too, was coming to realize that something odd was occurring here. “I am glad to be with you again, Desiree—I mean Desi.”

  “And now that the introductions have been accomplished,” Iris said, “perhaps we should go where we are going.”

  “Why, to the palace, of course,” Hanna said. “We know you all are tired after your sojourn abroad.”

  “Abroad?” Gary asked.

  “To the very nonmagical extreme edge of Xanth, where the awful Mundanes threaten to overrun,” Hanna said.

  “Surely a harrowing excursion.”

  “Very true,” Iris agreed quickly. “And now we really must get home and rest for a time. Please convey us there by the simplest route.”

  “We have merely to cross the street,” Hanna said. “How clever of my lady to express it so.” But her sober expression suggested that she did not regard the Queen as all that clever.

  So they followed Hanna out of the station and across the street, which was now being used by assorted crossbreeds. A small sphinx was hauling a wagon of fruit, and a clean harpy was sweeping the street by blowing the debris and dirt away by the force of her wingbeats. An ogre was scrubbing the palace windows, using an assortment of sponges mounted on long handles.

  Gary was amazed. He had never heard of a sphinx serving as a beast of burden, or of a harpy cleaning anything up, or of an ogre being gentle with windows. These were illusion figures, of course, but usually illusions echoed the natures of the creatures they represented. He glanced at Iris.

  “Don't look at me,” she muttered. “None of these people or creatures are my handiwork.”

  Hiatus took note. “They aren't? Then who's making them?”

  “How should I know?” she asked irritably. “I thought I was the only one with illusion of this caliber.”

  “Maybe they're real,” Mentia said.

  “No, they're illusion,” Iris said. “Trust me to know my art. They just aren't mine.”

  “I knew Desi was too good to be true,” Hiatus said morosely. “The real Desiree isn't interested in me.”

  “And the real Hannah is a militant feminist,” Gary said.

  “Not at all like Hanna the Handmaiden.”

  “Something very strange is occurring,” Mentia said.

  “It's a function of the increased madness, of course, but not of any type I have heard of.”

  “It's fun!” Surprise said.

  Iris was thoughtful. “Actually, my husband Trent remarked how he entered the madness and encountered figures from his past in Mundania. They seemed real, and acted as they had when he knew them, but were actually animated by his companions in the quest he was on.”

  “Among whom was my better self Metria,” Mentia agreed, remembering. “She became sober in the madness, as I have, and developed a taste for love. That was the mischief that drove me out—and now I am discovering aspects of it myself. So perhaps this is the normal course of madness, after all.”

  “But what of the people and creatures we aren't remembering or imagining?” Iris asked. “They aren't like those we may have known, other than in their appearance.”

  “That remains odd,” the demoness agreed.

  They reached the palace gate. Gary admired the fine stone structure, as it had a number of rare facets, including a self-cleaning panel of detergent stone. He would have liked to study it more closely, but didn't want to separate from the party.

  The interior of the palace was of course palatial, with arched ceilings and spacious chambers. The group was guided up an elaborate spiraling stone stairway to the residential floor, where it seemed their apartments were clustered. Gary saw Desi take Hiatus to their suite, after guiding Iris and Surprise to theirs. Hanna showed Mentia to hers, then took Gary into his.

  “I must massage your tired body, my lord,” Hanna said solicitously. “I know how traveling wearies you beyond endurance.”

  “Actually I didn't travel that far,” Gary said. “And the train was comfortable.”

  “First we must get these grimy clothes off you,” she said, as if he hadn't spoken. He realized that as an illusion imitation person, she probably didn't have a lot of personality. But her hands seemed surprisingly solid as she drew off his jacket and then his shoes and trousers. He knew that illusion was remarkable stuff, but hadn't realized that it could be felt this solidly as well as seen and heard.

  She made him lie on a stone pallet, and she pressed and kneaded his human shoulders and back. Suddenly he realized how tired he actually was, and how wonderfully relaxing this massage was. Hanna the Handmaiden was a maiden who really knew how to use her hands.

  But he knew he could not afford to relax mentally.

  There were strange things here that could be dangerous, and he had a quest to pursue. He did not know how long this dreamlike illusion would persist, so he wanted to take advantage of it to locate the philter as soon as feasible.

  “Hanna, exactly what is our relationship?” he inquired.

  “Why my lord Gar, I am your ever-loyal and obedient servant,” she replied as her competent hands moved on down his body. “I do anything you require of me.”

  “Why did you call me Gar the Good?”

  “This is your description. Everyone knows that you are the best intentioned of all the few remaining humans in Xanth, and that you have only the very most noble aspirations. That is why you were selected to tutor Supi the Super, that she not abuse her great magic powers and bring our cause to ruin.”

  “The others aren't well intentioned?”

  “Oh, some are, but they lack discretion or temper or competence. Princess Supi is a wild child, and Queen Iri notorious for her angry outbursts. Menti does her best to pacify them both, but she is merely a demon nanny without authority. As for Lord Hiat the Hedonist—if there is any way of selfish indulgence he has not discovered, it is not for lack of trying.” She paused as her hands kneaded his legs. “Though recently he has become sinister, which makes me nervous.”

  An illusion could be nervous? “How so?”

  “He still supports the cause, but somehow his support seems measured, as if it springs less from the heart than from a schooled aspect of the mind. I do not trust him—or the dire effect he has on the Princess.”

  This was getting more interesting—and alarming.

  “What dire effect?”

  “He keeps trying to tempt her with notions of pleasure for its own sake, and suggesting that she employ her power to gratify her appetites, such as for endless cake and eye scream, instead of saving them for the benefit of the cause. She, being but a child, is prone to pay attention. So far you have managed to counter that, my lord, but I fear you are losing ground.”

  “What is this cause?”

  She laughed as she did his feet. “You have not teased me like this in ages, my lord! Playing the ignorant, when in fact you are our most knowledgeable remaining purebreed. It is the cause of preserving the nature and sanctity of Xanth, that it be neither overrun by brutish barbarians from Mundania nor depleted entirely of mankind.

  Surely there can be no more noble enterprise than this, yet success hangs by a thread. We need to be fully united in this ultimate endeavor, yet we are not—because of Lord Hiat's subt
le malignity. Was ever there a sadder state?”

  She finished his feet. “Now I am done, my lord, and shall garb you anew, that you be ready for the final effort.”

  Gary got off the table, feeling wonderfully refreshed.

  “Final effort?”

  She brought him a fine cloth robe. “It is time to assemble the masterspell, securing Xanth for all future existence.

  After that it will not matter if our pitiful remnant of humankind is extinguished; Xanth as we knew it will endure.”

  Gary donned the robe. It fit him as if it had been made for him and worn to his contours. “There is a threat of extinction of our kind?” He did not think it expedient to mention that he was not actually a man.

  She laughed, somewhat wanly. “As if you had not noticed that only this palace remains inhabited by full humans, in all the vasty city. When we are gone there will be only crossbreeds remaining, and they will not remain long, for they prefer concourse with the growing populations of their own kind. Xanth will have to be resettled by Mundanes—but at least they will not destroy it, once the masterspell is made.”

  “But what threat is there against us?” he asked. “Aren't we secure in this fine city?”

  “Secure from all but ourselves,” she said sadly. “Every time one of us is tempted to drink from the unprotected spring, that one is lost. After the masterspell is established it will not matter, but too many have not seen fit to wait.”

  “Unprotected spring?”

  “The gargoyle must travel from spring to spring, there being no other willing to brave the madness. We must confine our drinking to the times she is present, lest we be ensorceled and forfeit our species' future.”

  Gary fixed on one word. “Gargoyle?”

  “And now you claim not to remember gentle Gayle Goyle, who alone among her kind still serves the welfare of the city of Hinge? We could not endure without her.”

  Gary was so surprised and thrilled that he did not speak for a moment. In that moment Hanna proceeded to a new mission. “I must go help the staff prepare the homecoming banquet, my lord. May you rest refreshed.” Before he could protest, she opened the door and was gone.

  The moment he was alone, he was not alone. Demoness Mentia appeared. “I thought she'd never go,” she muttered. “Do you realize when this is?”