Golem in the Gears Page 18

  The allegory nosed up to the island. “I certainly did,” it said in reptile-talk.

  Grundy jumped. “You!” he exclaimed.

  “You mean that’s the Sea Hag, now?” Threnody asked.

  “Yes,” Grundy agreed heavily. “It seems she took over that body, after the hawk died.”

  “I’ll kill it!” Jordan said grimly.

  “No, that will only free her for another form,” Grundy warned. “Better to keep her in the form we know.”

  “But it’s a dangerous form,” Threnody said nervously.

  “Any form is dangerous, when it’s the Sea Hag,” Grundy said.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, looking at Threnody. She continued to heal, but the marks remained on her body. It was evident that Jordan was more upset by the injuries she had received from the Hag than the far worse ones he had received. Considering his own talent, this was understandable.

  The allegory was listening to them, evidently understanding human speech though it could only talk in reptilian. “And I know the way out of here,” it hissed. “If you want to escape the Glades, I can tell you how.”

  “Fat chance!” Grundy hissed back.

  “You know what I want, Golem,” it said.

  “What’s she saying?” Rapunzel asked, worried.

  “You know what she’s saying,” Grundy said.

  “Oh.” Again her hand went to her mouth, in that maidenly alarm he found so attractive.

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “That’s one deal we’ll never make.”

  “But if she can get you free—”

  “No!”

  “Yes,” the reptile hissed. “Not today, not this week perhaps. But after a month, a year of idleness, of boredom, however long it takes, you will be ready to deal. Send her back to the Ivory Tower, and I will show you the way out of the Glades.”

  “Jordan,” Grundy said sharply. “I’ve changed my mind. I think this creature should be killed.”

  Jordan smiled. He drew his sword. But the allegory moved with surprising swiftness, splashing back into the water and zipping away, out of reach.

  “At least we know there is a way,” Grundy said.

  “There is a way,” Rapunzel agreed, gazing at him.

  In the later afternoon Threnody approached Grundy. “I’m getting better,” she said. “I could change to a form that could go after that allegory, and—”

  “To what point?” he asked. “We really shouldn’t kill it, and it certainly won’t tell us what we want to know. Not without a deal I won’t make.”

  “I was thinking more deviously,” she said. “I’m not the nicest of women, down inside. I’ve done some pretty bad things in my time, in a cause I believed was right. I know I can do what I have to do.”

  Now he was curious. “What’s that?”

  “I can catch her and make her hurt until she tells us how to get out of here.”

  “Torture her?” he asked, shocked.

  “I told you I wasn’t all that nice. If I turned into a water dragon and went after her, I could chew on her bit by bit, one leg at a time, and she would—”

  Grundy felt sick. “I don’t think I like that way. Anyway, I think she would rather die than tell us, because she can’t die.”

  She nodded. “You’re probably right. But I just thought I’d mention it We’re not entirely helpless.”

  “Are all females like you, underneath?” he asked, grimly intrigued.

  “Of course not. Most are relatively innocent, and some are truly nice creatures, like Rapunzel.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” he agreed with relief.

  “But even that kind can go after what she wants. I remember when I decided that Jordan was the man for me …” She sighed and shook her head.

  “But Rapunzel hasn’t met any men yet, except for Jordan.”

  “I think she has,” Threnody murmured, smiling in that obscure way women had.

  “Oh? Where?”

  She laughed. “Never mind. I’m sure everything will work out, in its fashion.” She moved away.

  Grundy shook his head, perplexed. Then Rapunzel rejoined him, and he forgot whatever he had been trying to be bothered about.

  Next day Grundy climbed a tall tree and looked about. All around were the little islands of palm trees, all of which he knew had golems looking about, because all were the same. What a hopeless situation!

  Then he spied something else. He squinted at it, trying to make quite sure it wasn’t an illusion. But soon he was sure! “Centaur ho!” he cried, scrambling down the tree.

  In a moment everyone was looking. It was definitely a centaur forging toward them through the marsh. In due course Grundy was able to recognize him: “Arnolde!”

  Indeed it was Arnolde, the only nonhuman creature ever to have been the human King of Xanth. He sloshed to the copse and raised a hand in greeting. “I’m glad to find you well,” he said. He was old, and his coat was turning gray, but he remained reasonably spry. He wore Mundane spectacles to shore up his declining eyesight.

  “But we’re trapped!” Grundy exclaimed. “And now you are, too!”

  “Not so,” Arnolde said cheerily.

  “You don’t understand. These are the Ever-Glades. There is no way out.”

  “And I am a Magician,” the centaur reminded him. “My magic can handle this.”

  “But your magic only works outside of Xanth! It’s an aisle of magic. Here it makes no difference.”

  “Allow me to explain. I have been experimenting with reverse-wood.”

  “We had some of that, but—”

  “It reverses the thrust of any magic in its vicinity. Thus, when I carry it, it causes me to generate a Mundane aisle in Xanth. Now you might not feel this is a useful function; however—”

  Suddenly Grundy caught on. “It’s magic that holds us here in the Glades!” he cried. “If that is nullified—”

  “We can get out of here!” Jordan finished.

  “That was my supposition,” Arnolde agreed. “So if you are ready to travel with me—”

  “But how did you happen to come here?” Grundy asked, still hardly believing this good fortune.

  “My friend Bink suggested that the Ever-Glades might be the ideal place to test out the Mundane Effect,” Arnolde said. “And I constrained to agree with him. If I did not get lost there, I should not get lost anywhere.”

  “Bink!” Grundy exclaimed. “I should have known! He’s been sending people after me!”

  “I’m sure he meant no harm,” the centaur said. “His talent is very special.”

  “What is his talent? I can’t remember.”

  Arnolde looked thoughtful. “Oh. Well, in that case perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “But you did mention it! That guy seems to be crazy careless and crazy lucky. Does his magic have something to do with it?”

  “I would say that is a fair assessment,” the centaur agreed. And that was all he would say on that subject; instead he deftly turned the dialogue to the group’s own situation.

  They explained about Grundy’s Quest, and the manner he had rescued Rapunzel from the Ivory Tower, and how the Sea Hag was following them and trying to get Rapunzel to return to her power. “She was giving them some trouble, when we arrived,” Jordan said. “Just in the nick of time.”

  “When Bink is involved, such coincidences do occur,” the centaur said knowingly.

  “But now we’re stuck in the Ever-Glades,” Grundy concluded. “Or were, until you showed up. Are you sure your Mundane aisle can get us out?”

  “We shall certainly find out,” Arnolde said. “Where are you going from here?”

  “To Lake Ogre-Chobee, where the Fauns and Nymphs are. They’re holding Stanley Steamer.”

  “Very well, we shall go there.” The centaur stretched. “Tomorrow morning, if that is all right with you. I am not as youthful as I once was, and the day is becoming advanced.”

  Of course they agreed. Arnolde joi
ned them in a meal of cocoa and nuts, and found a comfortable spot to stand and sleep.

  But in the night there was a commotion. The allegory was on the island, scrambling away from Arnolde. “Oh my gracious!” the centaur exclaimed. “That animal has absconded with the reverse-wood!”

  Grundy knew instantly that that was potential disaster. Without that wood, Arnolde would be trapped with the rest of them. He leaped onto Snortimer. “We’ve got to recover it!” he cried.

  The Bed Monster was able to function well in the darkness. He scrambled after the allegory, catching it at the edge of the copse. Now, by the dim light of what remained of the moon, Grundy saw that the creature was hauling the wood along on a string, much as the sphinx had with the prior wood. But as Snortimer pounced on the wood, the allegory jumped forward and snatched at it. The two arrived at the same time, and one of Snortimer’s hands banged into the allegory’s long green nose.

  “Get the wood! Get the wood!” Grundy cried.

  Snortimer tried, but as he reached for it, the allegory snapped at his hand and he had to whip it back out of the way. The reptile reached for it with its snout, but Snortimer made two big hairy fists and punched a one-two combination on that snout.

  Now Jordan arrived. “Back off!” he called. “I’ll take care of that critter!”

  That seemed best. But as Snortimer retreated and Jordan advanced, the allegory lunged at the chip of wood and caught it in its mouth. Before they could act, the creature swallowed the wood and started to scramble for the water, where Grundy knew it would be almost impossible to catch it.

  But then the reptile stiffened. In a moment it collapsed and lay still. Jordan, ready to swing at it with his sword, hesitated.

  Grundy realized what had happened. “It’s dead,” he said. “It was magically animated by the Hag, and when it swallowed the wood, it reversed. Now it’s magically unanimated—and so it is dead.”

  “Well, that solves that problem then,” Jordan said. He chopped down with the sword, cutting the body in half. Then he fished out the chip of wood and rinsed it in the nearest water.

  For a moment Grundy wondered why the wood didn’t hurt the barbarian, but then realized that Jordan had long-since healed and was not using his magic talent now. In effect, he was an ordinary man, and so the wood had no effect on him.

  They had recovered the wood, and that was good. But now the Hag was a ghost again, and that was bad. Had they been able to leave her as the allegory, she might not have been able to pursue them, for it would have been very difficult for her to kill herself in that form.

  “I will hold it right in my hand, hereafter!” Arnolde said as they returned the chip to him. “I had set it beside me, because the magic frame really is more comfortable than the Mundane, but I see in retrospect that that was a miscalculation.” And he clamped his hand firmly around it.

  They returned to sleep, though in Grundy’s case it was not the easiest thing to do. But Rapunzel whispered to him how brave he had been and held his hand, and that was very pleasant. He almost regretted that they were about to escape this trap.

  In the morning they ate again and started off. Threnody had changed to golem-size, to Grundy’s surprise; suddenly there were two women in his range. The three of them got on the bed, which Jordan had tied to Arnolde’s back, and rode along in style. Snortimer was squeezed under it, since this was day, and Jordan walked along beside.

  “Do your changes in shape and size bother Jordan?” Rapunzel asked Threnody as they moved out.

  “No,” the woman said with a laugh. “I’m always the right size for him, when he wants me to be. We all have different talents, and each of us can do things the other can’t.”

  “But you can become much larger than he can,” Rapunzel persisted. “Doesn’t he get afraid, when you’re huge?”

  “Never. It’s not the size that counts, it’s the relationship. I love him. He could slay me with one sweep of his sword, and I could not recover, but I know he wouldn’t, because he loves me.”

  “The relationship,” Rapunzel agreed. “That makes everything all right.”

  Grundy listened without commenting. It might be true that the relationship was more important than the size—but she had relationships yet to form with her human and/or elven kinfolk. He knew, if she did not, that no golem was a part of either society. How he wished it could be otherwise!

  Here in the Mundane aisle, in the light of day, the scene was strange indeed. The nearest palm tree no longer had hands and fingers; instead it had funny large green leaves, each deeply serrated to resemble hundreds of thick blades of grass. It was singularly uninteresting. When they passed by a cocoa-nut tree, the big nut was not chocolaty at all, but a big, crude capsule of fiber that it would have been impossible to eat. When they stepped into the sea of grass, however, it was—a sea of grass.

  With a difference. This was not a true swamp, but what seemed to be an imitation swamp set up on a barren surface. It was as if someone had dumped some globs of mud and splashed some water and set out some tufts of grass, so that, from a distance, it would look like a real swamp, and left it there. But a short distance away, beyond the aisle, the swamp returned in its full force, the grass being thick and green. It was easy to see where the aisle left off, because of the poverty of the scenery that commenced at its edge.

  They proceeded to the next copse of trees—and the terrain changed. The grass fell behind, and ordinary Xanth vegetation returned.

  Arnolde came to a halt. “The Mundane aisle is not kind to normal things,” he said. “I think you will travel more pleasantly if I leave you now. I believe the camp of the Fauns is immediately ahead.”

  Grundy knew he was right. Fauns and Nymphs were fundamentally magical creatures, and reverse-wood would not make them comfortable at all. Arnolde had done his job, and they were duly grateful. All of them told him so emphatically, which embarrassed him. Perhaps the fact that Rapunzel and Threnody climbed up and kissed his right and left ears, respectively, had something to do with it. He was after all a rather self-effacing scholar, not given to heroism.

  Arnolde departed, his ears still blushing, to pursue his further experiments with Mundane-aisle Effects, and the rest of them went on to the Faun camp.

  “I’ll carry the bed again,” Jordan said. “Just tie it on my back, same as before.”

  “But it’s day,” Grundy protested. “Snortimer needs it.”

  “Why? He’s standing in daylight now okay.”

  Astonished, they all looked at the Bed Monster. There he was, in full light, suffering no harm.

  “How—?” Grundy asked.

  “Arnolde gave me a sliver of the reverse-wood,” Snortimer explained in Bed-Monster tongue. “He thought that if it reversed all magic, including his, it should reverse mine. So I tried it.”

  “That’s one smart centaur!” Jordan said.

  “We could have done that before,” Grundy exclaimed. “When we had the other reverse-wood! We never thought of it.”

  “Because we’re not smart centaurs,” Threnody said.

  So they tied the bed to Jordan’s back. Now three of them rode on Snortimer, but their combined weight was so slight it didn’t matter. Grundy realized that this gave Threnody the chance to continue resting and healing while traveling. “You know, this is a nice enough size,” she remarked. “I should use it more often.”

  “It certainly seems adequate to me,” Rapunzel agreed.

  Grundy said nothing. He had no choice; this was the only size he had ever known.

  The approach to the Faun & Nymph Retreat was a single, fairly narrow path that wound about through a gully that soon became a chasm. Sheer cliffs rose up on either side, peaking in a jagged mountain range that hadn’t been visible from a distance. It was evident that this path was the only way anyone could enter the premises. It was pleasant enough, however, and there were no signs of danger.

  It opened on a truly delightful scene. There was a fine blue lake beside a lovely little mou
ntain, with a thick green forest filling in around them both. The whole was enclosed by the jagged ring of mountains.

  In a moment the residents showed up. They appeared to be as harmless as the scenery: they were dancing Fauns and Nymphs. The Fauns were roughly human in form, but with hoofed feet, shaggy legs, and little horns on their heads. The Nymphs were naked, youthful women, each prettier than the others. They swung their tresses engagingly about as they danced. “Oh,” Rapunzel said, putting a hand to her shorn hair.

  “You are beautiful with or without your hair,” Grundy told her seriously.

  “Oh!” she repeated, brightening.

  The Fauns and Nymphs swarmed up. From close range, they appeared to be of several different types, but all were smiling and friendly. “It’s so interesting to see them in person,” Rapunzel said. “Dryads and Dryfauns, Oreads and Orefauns, Naiads and Naifauns—”

  “What, what, and what?” Grundy asked.

  “The different species of Nymphs and Fauns,” she explained. “The Drys live in the trees, the Ores in the mountains, and the Nais in the lake. Each adapts to its environment—”

  But now the residents were crowding around. “What strange creatures!” they exclaimed. “The one wears a bed and the others are little folk on a monster!” For the Fauns and Nymphs were far larger than golems, though not large by human standards.

  “We’re looking for a little dragon,” Grundy said. “We understand he’s here. His name is Stanley Steamer.”

  “Stanley!” they exclaimed. “Yes! Yes!”

  Now Stanley himself appeared—and Grundy was amazed. The dragon was no longer little and cute; he had in the intervening years become a formidable middle-sized monster. He looked perfectly healthy and happy.

  “Stanley!” Grundy called in dragon-talk. “My how you’ve grown!”

  The dragon whomped up to join them, exhaling cheerful clouds of steam. “But you haven’t!” he replied, recognizing Grundy. “And who are those two golem girls?”

  “This is Threnody,” Grundy said, indicating her. “You’ve met her before, she’s usually larger. And this is Rapunzel, Ivy’s pun-pal. I rescued her from the Ivory Tower, on the way to rescuing you.”