Dragon on a Pedestal Read online

  "The Gap Dragon!" Irene exclaimed in horror. Her memory of that monster was fresh from her own recent encounter. "That's where it went after it left Castle Zombie! While I was looking for Ivy--"

  The dragon bore down on Humfrey and Hugo, steam jetting from its nostrils. Words were shouted, still silent in the mirror, and the magic carpet abruptly took off. Hugo, sitting unbraced, lost his balance and fell off. The carpet sailed into the sky, carrying Humfrey's bag of spells away. In a moment it was out of sight.

  "Oh, no!" Irene exclaimed. "He's lost his magic!" The Gorgon nodded grimly. "I should have been there," she said, touching her veil meaningfully. "Men are so inadequate by themselves. But someone had to tend the castle while he went for the water from the Fountain of Youth." Irene suffered another shock. "The Fountain of--!"

  "Oh, I shouldn't have let that slip!" the Gorgon fussed. "It's a secret."

  In the mirror, the action continued. The Gap Dragon bore down on the man and boy. "A secret?" Irene asked, distracted by the significance of the Fountain despite the horror of the scene. Actually, it wasn't a fountain, just a pool or spring; perhaps it only fountained at certain hours of the day or when the water level dropped and needed replenishing. Many people, over the centuries, had looked for the Fountain; maybe its poollike aspect had caused them to miss it. Anyone who happened on it unaware and drank deeply, not knowing its property, would have been put out of business by an overdose of youth. "Don't you realize what that water could do for the people of Xanth? My father--"

  The Good Magician was yelling at his son. Hugo fumbled stupidly with the wrapped bottle he held. The sequence seemed to take forever: dragon advancing, blowing steam, man retreating, boy extricating bottle.

  "Don't you see, it has to be secret," the Gorgon was explaining. "Humfrey uses it judiciously, to keep himself not much over a century old, and the Zombie Master uses it to improve the performance of his zombies--he knew about it in the old days, in his prior life, and told Humfrey. It used to be a literal fountain, but it wore down over the centuries--but if it were available generally in Xanth, no one would ever die of old age, and some things have to--soon things would be so crowded--"

  Irene tuned her out, watching the mirror. Finally the boy got the bottle out and the lid off. Responding to instructions, he swung the bottle in an arc so that its magic water flung out toward the dragon in a spreading stream.

  "Watch out!" Irene cried uselessly, realizing what such an undisciplined splash could do.

  The water struck the charging dragon, who immediately began to shrink into youth. It also doused the man.

  Irene watched, dumbfounded. The water of Youth was a weapon, for an overdose would rob a creature of all its adult powers. It seemed that it did not have to be imbibed; the mere touch of it on a person's skin sufficed. But a weapon could be turned against friend as well as foe. Both dragon and Magician were helplessly youthening.

  The Gap Dragon became a smaller monster, with brighter green scales and thicker steam. The Good Magician became a halfway handsome gnome of age fifty or so, with a straight body and a solid head of hair. But the trend did not stop there.

  Both progressed, or regressed, to childhood.

  "They both OD'd," the Gorgon said. "I suppose we're lucky they didn't youthen into nothing. Both are over a century old; that's probably all that saved them. I used the emergency spell Humfrey left me to conjure him back--"

  The baby Magician disappeared from the image. Irene quelled her shock, realizing that this was not youthening into nonexistence, but simply the operation of the conjuration-spell. Humfrey vanished from the scene in the mirror because he had appeared here in his castle.

  Hugo, dismayed and confused, began to cry. The baby dragon shook itself, looked about, spread its fledgling wings, and scooted away, terrified.

  The mirror image faded out. Irene turned to look again at the baby in the playroom. "It really is Humfrey!" she breathed.

  The Gorgon sighed. "It really is. And Hugo is still out there. He didn't seem to get any of the water on himself, but that's about the only bright spot. I can't tune in on him with the mirror, because it is set on Humfrey and I don't know how to retune it. As soon as it realized Humfrey was gone from the scene, it quit the image. I can't even go out to search for my lost son, because--"

  Irene realized that the Gorgon was crying under her veil.

  She had been devastated in the last hour and needed help. Irene knew exactly how that felt--but was surprised to discover that the Gorgon, older and more experienced than Irene and the most formidable woman in Xanth when she lifted her veil, was in fact less well equipped to handle such calamity than was Irene herself. Physical or magical power did not serve as well at this moment as did emotional stability.

  "Come, sit down, and we'll work this out," Irene said, taking the Gorgon by the elbow. "My child is out there, too. That's why I came here." But obviously her mission had been in vain; there would be no help from Humfrey now.

  The Gorgon suffered herself to be guided. Soon they were in the kitchen, the most comfortable place for married women, sharing cups of T sweetened by the product of B's.

  Irene eyed a plate of cheeses. One piece was huge, with a mottled rind, and when she reached for it, it growled menacingly. "Don't take that," the Gorgon warned. "It's monster cheese, reserved for muensters--I mean monsters. Try this instead." She turned the plate to present another type.

  Irene took a piece and chewed delicately. "It's good. What kind is it?"

  "Gorgon-zola. I make it myself. I stare at it through my veil until it's half petrified."

  Irene had to smile. This was a useful incidental aspect of the Gorgon's dread talent.

  Now they got down to business. "First we must get a good baby-sitter for Humfrey. Uh, is there any known cure for magic youthening?"

  "Only time--the same as for the victim of a love spring," the Gorgon said sadly. "But I'm willing to wait, knowing that in due course he will regain his full powers and be in the prime of life. But what a wait that will be, even if I get hold of some Fountain of Youth water myself so I can rejoin him in middle age. And who will fill the role he does for Xanth?"

  The outlook did look dismal. "Usually there is some countercharm," Irene said. "If there were some substance or spell to reverse the effect, to age him more rapidly--"

  "Only Humfrey would know where to find that," the Gorgon said. "And he is the one who doesn't know, now."

  It was an unfortunate irony. Irene shrugged and chewed her cheese, unable to offer any other suggestions.

  "But I've got to rescue Hugo!" the Gorgon exclaimed. "Did you say someone could come here and care for Humfrey while I'm going out to find my son?"

  "Lacuna, the Zombie Master's daughter, will do nicely.

  She's just sixteen and good with children." Irene suffered a retroactive regret that the twins' debut had been so rudely shattered; instead of a party, there had been disaster.

  "Oh, yes, I know Lacuna. A perfect imp of a child. She used to print messages all over the castle. Things like NEVER PUT OFF TILL TOMORROW WHAT YOU CAN DO TODAY. It seems funny in retrospect, but it was annoying at the time."

  Irene's brow furrowed. "Annoying?"

  "It was printed on the toilet," Irene swallowed her chuckle.

  "I won't even inquire what Hiatus did to the bathroom." Hiatus' talent was growing eyes, ears, noses, and mouths from walls and other places. "Lacuna was taking care of Ivy, and I believe it was no fault of hers that Ivy got lost. The Gap Dragon--" It was hard to speak so objectively, but it was necessary; time was of the essence. "Lacuna lived here as a child; she surely knows how to stay out of trouble and where the facilities are. She won't poke into the Magician's spells." Irene had divided the Good Magician, in her mind, into two aspects: the century-plus old man he used to be, and the baby who now existed. The presence of the old Humfrey would always be felt here, no matter how long he was away. "You can give her any special pointers she needs; the rest will come naturally. That
will free you to go out and fetch Hugo with a clear conscience."

  The obscure countenance behind the thick veil brightened.

  Now the Gorgon had a positive program of action! "I don't know why I didn't think of that myself!" she exclaimed.

  "We'll have to get Lacuna here quickly," Irene continued. "That wilderness jungle is dangerous for children." But there was no need to remind anyone of that ugly reality; best not to dwell on it. "The carpet's lost; we don't know how to use Humfrey's stocked spells; is there anything else?"

  The Gorgon considered. "The roc," she said. "It will obey you now, since you got past it. It can fly very fast."

  "I'm sure it can," Irene agreed, not much liking this idea but aware that it was probably best. "I will have to return to Castle Zombie to tell Dor what has happened here, then go after Ivy myself."

  "I'll help you!" the Gorgon said. "We can go together, combining our searches!"

  "No use. Your son's lost at the Fountain of Youth; my daughter's lost near Castle Zombie. I don't know how close the two are to each other--"

  "I don't know either," the Gorgon admitted. "Only Humfrey knew the location of the Fountain. But it has to be somewhere in that region."

  "What about the Zombie Master?" Irene asked. "You said he knew--"

  "Eight hundred years ago, he knew. But in his long tenure as a zombie, he forgot. All he remembered was that it did exist, and somewhere in that area; Humfrey worked from there to pinpoint it precisely."

  "But Humfrey must have told--" The Gorgon shook her head. "That was not his way." All too true. The Good Magician had been notoriously tightfisted with information of any type, to the frustration of others, even kings.

  "Since both Ivy and Hugo are in peril," Irene said, "we'll have to look for them separately. You rescue yours, I'll rescue mine--and pray we're both successful."

  "Yes," the Gorgon agreed faintly, and Irene realized that the woman had really wanted to make the search together. Probably she needed the moral support in this hour of crisis. But it just didn't make sense in the circumstance; they might find one child and lose the other.

  "Will you be all right, alone in the jungle?" Irene asked solicitously.

  The Gorgon touched her veil suggestively. "Who will challenge me there?"

  Who, indeed! The Gorgon had less to fear from monsters than did any other person. "Then it's agreed. Let me use the roc to return to Castle Zombie, and then it can bring Lacuna here, and then you can have it take you to the general region of the Fountain, which I think must be north of the castle; that's the way Humfrey went when he left."

  "Yes," the Gorgon agreed. "Oh, Irene, you've been so much help! I didn't know what to do until you came!"

  Irene patted her hand reassuringly. But inside, she was not at all assured. She had come here for help--and there was none. Humfrey's horror had been added to her own.

  Chapter 3

  Yak Talk

  Ivy looked around her. She was in a nice jungle with many interesting things, so she inspected each one in turn.

  She realized something was in her hand, and she put it in her pocket so it wouldn't distract her.

  Closest was a plant that smelled like a pickle, but its branches and leaves were so hard as to be metallic. "What are you?" she inquired, but the plant didn't answer.

  She pouted. She didn't like unresponsive things. She walked on, looking for something that would talk to her.

  She heard a noise in the brush and discovered a large animal grazing. It had horns like those of a sea cow, a tail like that of a centaur, and silky hair along its sides like that of a beautiful woman. In short, it was a strange, composite creature.

  But Ivy was too young and inexperienced to realize how strange this animal was or to know proper fear. She marched right up to it. "What, are you?" she asked. She had always found this question useful, because, when her father was near, things always answered.

  The creature raised its head and stared down at her with a huge and lovely eye. "I thought you'd never ask! I'm a yak, of course, the most talkative of wild creatures. I will talk your ear off, if you don't figure out how to stop me."

  Ivy put a hand to her delicate little ear. It seemed to be securely fastened, so she relaxed. "How do I stop you?" She was rather pleased with her ability to assemble a question correctly; after all, she wasn't very big. But she had discovered that she could do a lot more than she thought she could, if she only believed she could. She had decided to believe she could talk as well as a grown-up person, and now she could, almost. But she didn't do it when her folks were present, in case they should object. Grown-ups had funny notions about what children should or should not do, so she had learned caution.

  The yak shook his head. "Not so readily, cute human child! That is the single thing I won't tell you! It is my nature to talk as long as I have a receptive ear--an indifferent ear will do in a pinch--regardless how anyone else feels about it. You can't shut me up unless you know how. What do you think of that?"

  Ivy looked up at him. "You're a real pretty beast. I like you."

  The yak was taken aback. "You aren't annoyed?"

  "You talk to me. Most people don't. They don't have time. My folks don't know how well I can talk, fortunately."

  The yak seemed uncertain whether she was joking. He twitched his horns. "Well, I have time. I have nothing better to do than talk. I'd rather talk than eat."

  "Eat." Ivy realized she was hungry. "I want to eat."

  "I will talk about eating, then. But first we must introduce ourselves more formally. What is your given name?"

  "Ivy. I'm King Dor's child."

  The yak's mouth curved into a tolerant smile. "Ah, royalty! You will surely have royal tastes!" He was humoring her, not believing her parentage. "What do you like?"

  Ivy considered. It was not that it took her any great cogitation to come to a conclusion, but that she enjoyed this particular type of consideration. "Chocolate cake."

  "I never would have guessed! As it happens, there's a chocolate moose in the vicinity, but it doesn't like getting nibbled. Once a bunch of ducks started nibbling, and it said--"

  "I don't want to hurt anything," Ivy said, sad for the moose. "Now I don't know what to eat."

  "Then we'll just have to explore. There's lots of succulent grass in this glade; do you like that?" By way of illustration, the yak took a mouthful of it.

  Ivy bent down and took a similar mouthful of grass. She chewed a moment, then spat it out. "No. It's too much like spinach."

  "There are also leaves," the yak said, reaching up to pull down a leafy branch. Ivy took a leaf and chewed it. "No. Too much like cabbage."

  "You are hard to please!" the yak lamented cheerfully. "Let's look around more widely."

  They walked back the way Ivy had come. "What's that?" she--asked, pointing to the metallic plant with the pickle smell that had refused to identify itself before.

  "Why, that's an armor-dillo," the yak said. "It grows the best armor, but it stinks of the brine used to store it. Some creatures like the odor, though."

  Ivy wrinkled her cute little nose. "Ugh. They must be dillies."

  "They are indeed! They get pickled every night." They moved on to a plant whose huge limbs terminated in delicate human hands, each finger manicured and with bright polish on the nail. "What's that?"

  "A lady-fingers plant, naturally," the Yak said. "You have hands; you can shake hands in the typical human fashion if you wish."

  Ivy tried it, extending her right hand toward the nearest branch. She could tell her right hand from her left because her hands lined up the same way her feet did, and her shoes were marked R and L. The nearest lady-fingers grasped her hand immediately. But then all the other hands clamored for attention by snapping their fingers, and she had to shake them all.

  At length she drew away, resolving to be more careful thereafter. She started toward a somewhat vague bush. "What's that?"

  "Don't go near that one!" the yak warned. "That's a trance pl
ant. It doesn't belong here at all."

  "Why not?"

  "It grows elsewhere. Probably someone carried it here and set it on the ground and it rooted. Anyone who gets too close to it gets dazed."

  Ivy considered. She was a pretty smart little girl when she tried to be, especially when she thought she was. Her father's friend Smash the Ogre had said she might have had an Eye Queue vine fall on her head; Smash knew about jungle vines. But that was their secret. Smash took her for walks sometimes, and he had been quick to discover that she was smarter than she seemed, sometimes, because he was that way himself, but he had promised not to tell her folks so she wouldn't get in trouble. In fact, it was because of Smash that she wanted to explore the jungle; he had told her how fascinating it was. Now she had her chance! "How did they carry the trance plant?"

  The yak paused. "Why, I never thought of that! Anyone carrying it would have gone into a trance. Yet I happen to know that all trance plants grow elsewhere, and are moved to new locations. It seems to be their lifestyle. They must have some additional magic to enable them to travel." He looked ahead. "Ah, there's a foot-ball."

  As he spoke, the foot-ball rolled into view. It was a sphere formed of feet. Every kind of extremity showed in it--dragon talons, bird claws, griffin paws, human feet, centaur hooves, insect legs, and so on. The feet tramped down a path wherever it rolled, so that it was easy to tell where the ball had been, but not where it was going. With so many feet, it was able to travel quite swiftly and was soon out of sight.

  However, the path it left made their route easier, since there were no brambles or pitfalls in it. It didn't matter to Ivy where it led, as long as there were interesting things along it.

  Ivy spotted a glittering glassy ball the size of her two fists, not round but carved with many small, flat facets. She strayed from the path long enough to pick it up. Beams of light coruscated from it as she held it in a stray shaft of sunlight. "What is this?"

  "That is a very precious stone, one of the gems distributed by Jewel the Nymph," the yak said. "Crystallized carbon in spherical form: a very hard ball. Specifically, a baseball diamond."