Geis of the Gargoyle Read online

  For it had to be done right, because once it was done, it was set, and could be changed only in multiples of a thousand years. This was to prevent idle tinkering after the installation. If they made any trifling mistake during the compilation of the spell, that error would be almost forever locked into the Interface, because there might never be another group capable of fixing it. If they made a big mistake, the work of centuries might turn out to be for nothing. This was the major reason why the education of the Princess was so important. She had the most powerful magic, but was the least responsible person. She was at once their greatest strength and weakness.

  “So do you understand the importance of your participation, Princess?” Gar inquired sternly. “After we compile the Interface, our job is done and we can all relax. Then you can play all you want to, in whatever way you want to. But first we must save Xanth from possible Mundane invasion.” He expected resistance, but to his surprise the child agreed. “I can use each talent only once, so I want to make my magic count in the most important way,” Supi said. “This is the way.”

  “But Princess,” Hiat protested. “That will use up most of your magic. You will be left a shell of your former self, magically. All that will be left for you to do will be to grow up into a dull irritable adult like your mother. Don't you want to save your magic for your lifelong pleasure?”

  “What the %%%% side are you on, cousin?!” Iri rapped, using one of the dreaded four-letter words that no child was supposed to hear. However, Gar realized that this was back in Xanth's Dark Prehistoric Age, before the Adult Conspiracy took firm hold. The primitive folk of that time simply didn't know any better. “Are you deliberately trying to subvert the effort of the centuries?”

  “What side?” Supi asked, intrigued by the slight scorch marks and vile-smelling smoke the forbidden word had left in its wake.

  “No side, dear.” Menti said, rolling her eyes right over her head. “My lady the Queen merely misspoke herself.”

  She sent a properly subservient warning glance at Iri.

  “I am on the side of enlightened self-interest and common sense,” Lord Hiat said. “As for that word, %%—”

  “My lord Hiat is being facetious,” Gar said quickly.

  “That is, he is joking. Of course he supports the great and important effort we are making.” He sent a challenging look at Hiat, who arranged to turn away just before it arrived, so that it bounced harmlessly off the back of his head.

  But privately Gar wondered: Exactly what was with Lord Hiat, that he continually sought to distract Supi from her vital dedication to the project? The matter was complicated enough, without such interference.

  “I'm confused,” Supi said.

  “You would not be, dear, if you could see it through my eyes,” Iri said.

  “Okay.” Supi crossed her eyes.

  “No!” Gar cried, but too late.

  Queen Iri's eyes crossed, and for a moment she looked almost like the child. What was happening?

  Then Supi spoke up again. “Oh, I do understand, now that I've seen through your eyes. You are trying to do the right thing, and to you it looks as if Lord Hiat isn't. But maybe he doesn't really mean it, you hope.”

  “Yes, dear,” Iri agreed, looking both discomfited and impressed. “You did see through my eyes. But please don't use up any more of your magic frivolously.”

  “Gee, yes. It's a good thing I didn't use the talent of switching places with you.”

  “An excellent thing,” Iri agreed quickly.

  “In any event, we can't accomplish it today,” Hiat said.

  “We must do it only at the height of a major magic storm.”

  “And we must be in the center of the magic focus,” Gar agreed. “Where the gargoyle is.” Ah, wonderful thought, to visit her again.

  “But now you must rest,” Hanna said. “To be prepared for the supreme effort, when the time comes.”

  Gar was glad enough to agree. These tutoring sessions tended to be emotionally fatiguing, and actually the Princess already knew what she needed to. The moment another storm came, they would be ready to act.

  They retired to their several chambers, from which they would emerge later for the evening banquet. His chamber had been cleaned during his absence; he saw the last rug bee departing from the spotless rug on the floor. Gar sought to lie down on his bed—but Hanna was there before him, having somehow lost her clothing again.

  “Don't you have a bed of your own, handmaiden?” he asked her somewhat shortly. “If I have taken yours, I apologize, and will seek another place of repose.”

  “Why should I need one?” she asked in turn. “I'm an illusion.”

  “Then what are you doing on my bed?”

  “I hope to help you relax.”

  “By making me signal the stork with you? I can relax better in your absence.”

  “No you can't. You're all tense and tight from the burden of the tutor session. You need help to relax fully.”

  “No I'm not. No I don't.”

  She sat up, her upper torso changing its outline as she did so. It did make him think of storks, and the notion was increasingly intriguing. After all, this was a human body, perhaps he should explore its potentials. “Yes you are. Yes you do.”

  Maybe it would be simplest just to oblige her. But several things made him wary. First, she was an illusion, which meant that her half of the activity would not be real, even if it should seem real to him. And how could it seem real, when he couldn't actually touch her? (But she had touched him more than once. That was another mystery. He was unsatisfied with the “strong magic” explanation, as the magic was of about normal level here). Second, he was a gargoyle, and there was a gargoyle he would much prefer to be with, whether indulging in stork summoning or anything else. If only he had his natural stone body back! Third, he didn't trust her motive. Weren't there other ways she could help him relax? Why did she insist on this?

  That region of doubt loomed larger as he pondered it.

  What did he know of these illusions anyway? Something had to be making them, and he was satisfied that it wasn't the Queen. If Iri wanted to seduce him right now, she would be here in her own young body. He did not want to play the illusions' game without understanding their purpose.

  “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “However, I prefer to relax in my own fashion. If you will not let me rest alone, I shall simply ignore you.” He walked to the bed and lay down beside her, closing his eyes.

  “Then I shall massage you,” she decided. She put her hands on his shoulders and started kneading.

  It felt good, very good. So he rolled over to let her do his back as well. But that reminded him of one of his questions. “How is it that you, an admitted illusion, can touch me, here where the magic is of normal level?”

  She laughed. “You can touch me too, if I wish you to.

  We are in the Region of Madness, and though the palace reduces the power of magic somewhat so as not to discomfit you, we do draw on it for our purposes, such as fixing food and helping you. At the moment I am making only my hands solid, but I could with a special effort make most of my torso solid too, for a little while, if you should wish to clasp it.”

  That answered one of his questions, but not the others.

  So he tried another. “Why are you trying to seduce me?”

  “I am merely trying to satisfy you. If a massage is all you wish, then that will suffice. But if you should change your mind, I am sure I can be all that you might wish.”

  That he doubted. But then his doubt wavered. She was an illusion in human form; couldn't she assume some other form? Suppose she chose to resemble a gargoyle?

  But he did not want her to do that. He already knew the gargoyle he wanted to be with. And there was his third question. “A massage will do nicely, thank you. Who is Grafting you?”

  “Desi and I are merely your servants,” she said, her hands moving down his back. “We wish only to—”

  “For a moment step
out of the role,” he said. “You are helping us reanimate the distant past. What of the present?”

  “We are animations of the ambient madness,” she said. “We are here to help you—”

  “So you said before. But I doubt that madness animates itself to please intruders. There must be some person animating you, directing your images and responses. Who is that person?”

  “Some other person?” she asked, sounding bewildered.

  “You are an illusion. You have no being of your own.

  You are merely an image, a voice, and a pair of hands being projected for my benefit. Who is projecting you?”

  “I can not answer that, any more than you can say who is projecting you. I know my creator no more than you know yours.”

  Gar considered that, and realized that she had a point.

  Who among the living could know the true source of his life? So though he wasn't satisfied with her answer, he realized that she had found a refuge from his curiosity.

  “We have learned much about the origin and purpose of the ancient stone city of Hinge,” he said. “But this has not brought us closer to the completion of our mission.”

  “But surely it has,” she protested as she worked in his legs. She was certainly good at this! “You have to come to understand a great deal. When you grasp it all, you will know the answer to your quest.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, not entirely satisfied. He just wasn't quite comfortable with evasive illusions. But her hands were so soothing that he was soon asleep.

  * * *

  Several days later another storm came. They were ready.

  The five of them hurried out as the city hinged into its defensive configuration, going to the protected circle and its mad island. Gar had wanted to go there before, but every time he thought he had a chance to sneak out, one of the illusions happened by. He did not want to give away his nature, so could not go while they were watching. It was frustrating. But now there was reason, and he would see Gayle Goyle again.

  The storm was fierce. They barely made it to the circle before the buildings sprouted stone tentacles and tried to grab them in the manner of tangle trees. It was all the ogres could do to get the buildings folded down into their secure formats.

  Even the safe circle was highly charged. They could all feel the madness laying siege to them. This was a ferocious storm! What would it be like on the island?

  “We must link hands and hold tight,” Menti said grimly.

  “Supported by each other, we can survive the intense madness. But if anyone lets go, we shall be lost.”

  The others nodded, knowing it was true. They linked hands, forming a circle. Gar was between Menti and Iri, with Hiat and Supi completing it beyond them. The intangible pressure eased. It was as if they were stones, making their own protected space. The madness battered at their backs, but their faces were calm.

  They came to the pool. “We can't swim while holding hands,” Gar said.

  “We won't have to,” Menti said. “Supi, this is the occasion for that spot spell we discussed.”

  “Yes,” the child said. She was neither mischievous nor childish now; she was as deadly serious as the others. She turned her head and glanced cross-eyed at the pool.

  “Done.”

  “This way,” Iri said, stepping toward the water and bringing the others along with her.

  They stepped on the water, and it was firm, like a slightly yielding mat. They walked across, holding their circle.

  When they reached the island they had to flatten the circle so as to enter the inner passage. Gar found himself pressed face to face against Iri, but there was nothing remotely seductive about it. Her face was tense, and her pupils oscillated from pinpoint to enormous, and back again, constantly. He suspected that his own were doing the same.

  They entered the inner chamber. Gayle halted her spouting. “You are here,” she said.

  “You are at the center,” Menti said. “We must surround you.”

  “But to do that we must break the circle,” Gar said.

  “Put your hands on me,” Gayle said. “I am proof against the madness, and will secure you for this time.”

  They broke the circle cautiously, putting their hands on her and moving around her until she was the center of a new circle. Now the worst intensity of madness was at their faces, blasting outward like an intangible furnace.

  Gar knew that they would not be able to endure this long.

  But they didn't need to.

  “Now I craft the illusion of the template.” Queen Iri said. Within their circle appeared a vertical column, translucent, like a wall surrounding Gayle.

  “Now I give it substance,” Supi said, concentrating. The illusion became tangible, scintillating like a living thing.

  The madness diminished; it was being absorbed by the circular wall.

  “Now I give it roots and antennae,” Hiat said, and the wall became firmer below and more sensitive above.

  “Now I give it demonly presence to guide it where it must go,” Menti said, and the column took on further animation.

  “And now I direct it to go out to surround Xanth itself,”

  Gar said. “On the count of three, all of us will send it there.” He paused, making sure they were ready. “One. Two. THREE.”

  The column expanded, leaping outward. It passed them and disappeared, but they could sense its progress because of its demonly awareness. In a moment there was a feeling of a shudder, and of settling.

  “It is done,” Menti said. “The Interface has been set in place.”

  “Yes,” Gar agreed. “Now we must extricate ourselves as well as we can.” For the madness, though much diminished by the energy absorbed by the Interface, remained intense.

  “Must you go so soon?” Gayle asked wistfully.

  “We must,” Mend said. “We can not endure this madness long.”

  “But perhaps I can visit when the storm has passed,”

  Gar said.

  “That will be nice,” Gayle said.

  They shifted around, breaking and reforming their circle and wending their way deviously out to the lake. They crossed it and stood in the protected circle. The lessening of the intense magic was a relief.

  The storm was fading. They stood and watched as it cleared, and the ogres unfolded the buildings. Then they returned to the palace. Gar knew that they had accomplished something truly significant, but he would need at least one good night's sleep and perhaps several days' reflection before he truly understood it.

  Chapter 10

  DISCOVERY

  “I'll just pop off to make sure the Interface is in good order,” Menti said, vanishing.

  “And the rest of you can simply relax,” Desi said, taking Hiatus' hand. The two illusions had not accompanied them to the center of magic. Gary wondered whether they had taken advantage of the occasion to have a private dialogue, but suspected that they had simply faded out for the duration.

  Gary retired to his room, fatigued by their recent magical effort. But as he sought to relax on his bed. Queen Iris appeared. “Sh,” she said, putting her finger to her lips. “I want to talk with you while Desi's taken with Hiatus.

  Hanna is out of action now, isn't she?”

  “I believe so,” he agreed. “She's not here at the moment, and if she were, she'd be unanimated. They usually can't animate at the same time.”

  “I know. Except when the magic intensifies. So I'm using my own illusion to contact you.”

  Gary was surprised. “You're an illusion? I took you for real.”

  “Thank you.” She stepped forward and held out one hand. He touched it—and passed through it. “But if you prefer, I can plant the illusion in my chamber, and come here in person.”

  “No need.” He wasn't sure what she had in mind, and her illusion self was likely to mean less mischief.

  “We have learned a lot, and I value it,” Iris said. “I find it easy to identify with my current persona. But we have not accompli
shed our mission.”

  “That's right,” Gary agreed. “We haven't located the philter.”

  “And I think we won't, as long as we depend on the two foreign illusions. They have done everything to help us learn about anything except that, and they have done it with such finesse that we haven't noticed.”

  “Yes!” he agreed, seeing it. “Hanna's been trying to distract me every night.”

  “And succeeding.”

  “No, there was no seduction.”

  “Succeeding in her mission of distracting your attention,” Iris clarified. She looked thoughtful. “I'd like to know her technique.”

  “Persistence,” he said. “You tried to seduce me only once, and stopped when I demurred. She merely gives me a massage, and tries again another day. She arranges to show me her fair bare body often, as if by accident.”

  “Oh, like this?” Iris inquired, her gown fading out.

  Gary contemplated her nude torso. “Yes, like that. I must say, your body is even better formed than I thought.”

  “I enhanced it,” she confessed. “My real body looks more like this.” The elaborate contours simplified somewhat.

  “Still, quite appealing, for a human,” he said. “If I hadn't met Gayle …”

  “Persistence,” she said, her robe reappearing. “Thank you. But at the moment, I'm here on business. I want to accomplish our mission, and I think we shall need to divert the illusions in order to succeed.” She paused, gazing at him thoughtfully. “Would it be too much to ask that you let Hanna do it?”

  “You mean—?”

  “To seduce you. So that her attention will be taken up while Menti and I do some serious searching of our own.”