Dragon on a Pedestal

by Piers Anthony

  "But the jungle is so big!" Ivy pointed out. "How can you ever find him? Xanth is so huge!"

  "So I have discovered," Glory agreed. "My legs were made for looking at, not for all this walking! Hardy doesn't even know I'm coming; I just hurried across, not knowing how long the dragon would be gone."

  "But if he doesn't know," Hugo said, "and you don't know where he is--"

  "He said he lives near the mouth organ, so I am looking for that, but I fear I am lost. I can't find it anywhere and I've searched interminably."

  That sounded like a very long time indeed. "What's a mouth organ?" Ivy asked.

  Glory blushed prettily. "I'm sure I wouldn't know, and I hesitate to guess. But I've got to find it."

  "Hugo can figure it out," Ivy said. "He's smart!" Hugo, put on the spot, cudgeled his memory. "My father has books of pictures of things--monsters and plants--and I think there was one of a mouth organ. It's a big plant or animal or something, and it plays big, low notes you can hear for hours away."

  "Then we can hear it!" Ivy said excitedly. "We can find it for Glory!"

  "If we're close enough, and if it's playing," Hugo said.

  "Let's listen!"

  They listened, but heard no notes of any size.

  Ivy refused to be discouraged. "Stanley can hear it!" she declared. "He's got good dragon ears!" She turned to the little dragon. "Tune in to the mouth organ, Stanley. Show us where it is."

  But Stanley wasn't paying attention. He was sniffing the air as if trying to identify something odd.

  "Hey, Stanley!" Ivy repeated imperiously. "Listen for the mouth organ!"

  The little dragon perked up his ears and swiveled them about. It was evident that he had not considered tuning in on something this way before, but Ivy's presence and need made it feasible. Soon he caught a whiff of some sort of sound and pointed his snout at it, east.

  "See? I told you he could do it!" Ivy said. "Now we'll find it for you, and everything will be just fine!"

  "I certainly hope you are correct," Glory said uncertainly. "I just have to find Hardy!"

  They walked east, over hill and dale, avoiding tangle trees and such. It was a fair distance, so they paused every so often to rest and snack. The sun was now high in the sky, trying to peer down to see what they were doing.

  In due course, they could hear the organ themselves: ponderous, vibrating, authoritative notes that shook the very jungle with their power.

  "It does sound big," Ivy said, and pressed eagerly on. They rounded a large old tree and almost stumbled over a boy eating a bowl of polka-dot custard pudding. Startled, the boy jumped up, spilling his custard. The dots skidded around and rolled away, glad to escape the fate intended for them.

  The boy was absolutely furious. His hair changed from yellow to raging red. "You--" he expostulated, and changed into a huge, hairy spider covered in red fuzz that was darkening to black. "Made," the spider chittered, and became a scraggly faun with black horns and hooves turning green. "Me," the faun cried, and coverted to a man with the green head of a snake. "Sspilll," the snake-head hissed, turning brown, and became a small, tan griffin. "My," the griffin squawked, and reddened into a raging ball of fire. "Lunch!" the fire roared, and yellow flames flared high. Oh, this thing was angry!

  Hugo happened to be in the lead, so he took the main heat. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't see you. I can conjure you some nice fruit to eat instead--" He cconjured a huge and pretty pomegranate and held it out.

  The fire shaped back into the boy. "You offer a lutin mere fruit, you cretin?" he demanded, dashing it from Hugo's hand. He changed into a monstrous moth, hovering angrily. "I'll see you cocooned for this!" the moth fluttered. "I'll drive you to the flame! I'll punish all of you!"

  "Oh, I love puns," Ivy said. "Pun-ish me first!"

  "Stifle it in cotton, you brat!" the moth bawled, turning white. "I'll fix you! You shall never see Xanth again!"

  "But we're in Xanth!" Hugo protested weakly.

  "You shall be blind!" The moth vanished, and a monstrous eyeball replaced it. The eye was white, with ferocious blue veins crawling around it and a blazing red pupil at the front. From that pupil came a pale yellow mist, forming an expanding cloud. "Blind, blind, blind!" the eye repeated, speaking through the pupil.

  "Do something.!" Ivy cried, alarmed. Glory drew her knife and stepped toward the eye. "No, not you!" Ivy cried. "The mist will get you first!" Stanley whomped forward, blowing steam. "Not you either!" Ivy gasped, catching hold of his tail to hold him back. "I don't want you to be blind! I mean Hugo!"

  "Gee, thanks!" Hugo said, appalled. "I don't want to be blind either!"

  "Conjure some fruit that will save us!"

  "Oh. Yes." He conjured a pineapple.

  "No, dummy! That will spread the yellow all around! Some other way!"

  Hugo did not seem to react with the same pleasure to the endearment as she had. "But I can't--"

  "Yes you can!" Ivy insisted.

  The yellow was looming awfully. Hugo concentrated--and had an inspiration. A gourd-fruit appeared in his hands. "Look at this, lutin!" he cried, shoving it at the floating eyeball.

  The eye looked, involuntarily, for that was its nature--and saw the peephole, and froze where it was, in midair. The yellow mist dissipated harmlessly.

  Hugo set the gourd down carefully, and the eye tilted its gaze to watch its descent.

  "What is that?" Glory asked, perplexed.

  "A hypnogourd," Hugo said. "It's a sort of fruit, so I can conjure it, but this is the first I ever got right. I aimed the peephole at the lutin."

  Glory laughed, relieved. "Of course! We have whole patches of such gourds in Goblin-Land. I just didn't recognize it out of context. What a clever way to nullify the eye monster!"

  "What's a hypnogourd?" Ivy asked. She was only three years old and had seen a great many plants, but for some reason, her mother had never grown one of the gourd plants for her, so her education was not yet quite complete.

  "It's a gourd with a peephole," Glory explained. "I should have recognized it instantly. Anyone who peeks in the hole is hypnotized, until someone moves the gourd away or cuts off his line of sight. It's a good, fairly harmless way to restrain a violent creature, though it isn't wise to leave anyone hypnotized too long, if you don't want it to be permanent."

  "Let's get out of here before something happens to free the lutin," Hugo said nervously. "A leaf could fall and cover the peephole, or an animal could roll the gourd over. He'll be awful mad when he gets free."

  The others agreed. They had never before encountered such a bad temper as that shown by this magical creature. They hurried on, leaving the veined eye and the gourd behind.

  "I thought each person had only one magic talent," Ivy remarked thoughtfully.

  "They do, dear," Glory said. "Goblins don't even have one such talent."

  "But that lutin could change shape and do magic--he was going to blind us."

  "That's right!" Hugo agreed. "How could he do that?"

  "Maybe he was bluffing about the blindness," Glory said uncertainly.

  "He sure didn't sound as if he were bluffing," Hugo said.

  "He might have had some kind of herb, or maybe some juice from a blindworm, to make us blind."

  "Anyway, I'm glad you stopped him, Hugo," Glory said. "That was most intelligent, and you have a very useful talent."

  Hugo flushed with guilty pleasure. He wasn't used to such compliments, especially from anyone as pretty as the goblin girl.

  The organ notes became louder, until their booming was fairly deafening. There were many tones audible now, low ones and high ones, weaving in and out and around and through each other, forming a tapestry of sound. The effect was oddly moving, stirring subterranean emotions of pleasure, worry, and guilt. It was amazing what sheer sound could do.

  "I wonder whether it knows how to play romantic music," Glory murmured.

  "Why?" Ivy asked.

  "Never mind, dear; it was an idle thought."


  But there was something about the way she said it that gave Ivy the impression it wasn't entirely idle.

  Stanley looked around again, sniffing, questing for something he couldn't quite pinpoint. "Keep your mind on your business," Ivy chided the dragon.

  At last they came in sight of the mouth organ. This was a structure the size of a tree, made up of mouths. Tremendous, roomy, toothy, ugly, ogrish mouths blasted out the huge low notes, while smaller, animalish mouths issued the middle-sized central notes, and tiny, pursed, ladylike mouths shrilled forth the small highest notes.

  A figure appeared in the sky. It was a harpy. It cried a command, and suddenly the mouth organ silenced, deafeningly. Ivy almost fell over; she had been bracing against the sound, and now there was none.

  The harpy swooped toward them. It was male, with beautiful wings and the handsomest face Ivy had ever seen.

  "Glory!" the harpy cried.

  "Hardy!" the goblin girl cried joyously.

  He flew down to her, wrapped his wings about her like the folds of a cloak, and kissed her. The two were of about the same mass, but differently structured. Yet it did not seem strange at all that they should be in love, for each seemed more attractive than the other.

  After a moment, the harpy drew back and hovered in air, his wings flapping with easy power. "Who are these?"

  "These are my friends who helped me find you," Glory explained. "Ivy and Hugo and Stanley."

  Hardy Harpy squinted at them. "They appear young."

  "We are," Hugo said. "That's the best way to be."

  "The dragon looks somehow familiar."

  "He's the baby Gap Dragon," Glory explained quickly. "But he's friendly now. He tuned in on the mouth organ notes so I could find you."

  "Must be all right, then," Hardy said. "I had noticed the Gap was oddly quiet recently. But why are you here. Glory? If I had known you were coming, I would have flown to meet you. As it was, I worried at your absence from the Gapside ledge; I feared you had fallen in, but I found no--" He broke off, not wanting to utter such a horror.

  "I saw the Gap was empty, so I hurried across," Glory explained. "I was terrified. I didn't know the dragon had been youthened. It was my chance to get away from my father, before he made me marry some hideous and brutal knobby-kneed goblin chief."

  "But you took such a risk, coming here!" Hardy protested. "There are so many dangers--dragons, griffins, even a bad-tempered lutin--"

  "We've met."

  "If anything had happened to you--"

  "I just had to come," Glory said. "It was my only chance for happiness."

  "True," the handsome harpy agreed. "Come to my perch, not far distant, and bring your friends. I will reward them with some pretty trinkets I snatched from a dragon's nest. Then, later, I'll tune the mouth organ to play something romantic--"

  "Yes," Glory breathed.

  Now Ivy began to catch on to what that meant. Kissing must be more fun to music!

  Hardy led the way through the forest, flying low and slow so they could readily follow. A pleasant masculine aroma wafted out from his wings, quite different from the normal harpy hen stench.

  Suddenly a net flew through the air and settled over them all. Before they understood what was happening, the five of them were bundled up in an awkward ball. Stanley's green tail was in Ivy's face, and she was standing on one of Hardy's wings, and Glory was sitting on Hugo's head. Hideous little men were charging from all sides, brandishing clubs. "Now we've got you!" one man yelled.

  "Father!" Glory screamed, chagrined.

  Stanley blew out steam, but this only made Hardy jump; the dragon's snoot was aimed inward instead of outward, so he couldn't steam the attackers.

  Now Ivy recognized the creatures. They were male goblins. Each was so dusky as to be almost black, with a huge head, big flat feet, a bumpy round body, and a horrendous scowl. What were they doing here, south of the Gap?

  That was answered directly by the goblin chief. "Now we've got the criminal harpy!" Gorbage exclaimed, grimacing in what was evidently supposed to be a smile of victory.

  "That's redundant," another goblin said. "All harpies are criminals."

  There was coarse general laughter. "Yes, birds of a foul feather," Gorbage agreed.

  "And we'll hang him," a third goblin said, making a suggestive gesture of yanking up a rope and sticking out his purple tongue as if choking.

  "Naw, he'd just fly away," another said. "We'll stab him!" And he made a gesture with a mock knife, as of guts being punctured.

  "Better to club him to tar and feathers!"

  "Force-feed him poison-berries!"

  "Weight him down and toss him into a bottomless pond!"

  They crowded around, leering, barraging him with horrible suggestions, each one worse than the others.

  "Oh, Hardy!" Glory cried. "It's my tribe! They must have followed me! I didn't know!"

  Suddenly Ivy realized what Stanley had been sniffing for. The goblins had been following Glory and the party all the time--not close enough for the dragon to identify them for sure, but still, he had been aware of something. If only she had paid more attention, instead of chiding Stanley for not sticking strictly to the mouth organ scent! She could have asked the dragon what was bothering him and had him tune in to it specifically; maybe they could have spotted the goblins and arranged to avoid them. Certainly they could have saved Hardy Harpy from this treachery! Now they were all in trouble.

  At age three. Ivy did not have much experience with the cunning of angry creatures. But she was learning.

  "First we must put this carrion on trial," Gorbage said. "We must make an example of him, so the rest of the birdbrains will know not to fool with goblins."

  They untangled the captives one at a time, tying Hugo and Ivy with lengths of vine, wrapping Stanley securely in the net so he could hardly even wiggle, and knotting rope around the legs of Hardy and anchoring him to a stake pounded into the ground, so that he could perch but not fly. They left Glory free. She was, after all, only a goblin girl, pretty but helpless.

  "Now we gotta do this right," Gorbage said. "We gotta have a jury-rigged verdict before we croak him. Who wants to be the jury?"

  All the goblin hands went up. There were about a dozen of them, each one uglier than his fellows and more eager to do the dirty work.

  "Good enough; you're the jury," Gorbage said. "And I'm the judge."

  "But that's not fair!" Glory protested.

  "Shut up," Gorbage told her mildly, and she was silent. It was difficult for her to oppose her father.

  "Do something, Hugo!" Ivy whispered. "You're smart; you can think of something to save our friends!"

  Hugo was pale and frightened; he had perhaps a better idea than she did of how much was at stake here. Notions of extreme violence tended to slide past Ivy's awareness because she had never been exposed to such concepts before. Hugo had lived more than twice as long; experience had given him a more sober perspective. He knew that Hardy was not the only one in present peril.

  But he tried. "Hey, goblins!" he called. "You can't do that! My father says--"

  "And who's your father, twerp?" Gorbage demanded.

  "Good Magician Humfrey."

  This made the goblins pause. They had heard of Humfrey. Monsters and kings came and went, but the Good Magician was relatively eternal.

  "Can't be," Gorbage finally concluded. "The old gnome's over a century old. He wouldn't have any kids this age. Get on with the trial."

  "You've still got it wrong," Hugo said determinedly. "You have to have a--a prosecutor and a defender, and witnesses and all, or--"

  Gorbage swelled up like a toad with indigestion. "Or what, twerp?"

  Hugo quailed before the challenge, but Ivy was sure he had the courage to continue, for he was her Night in Shiny Armor, even if the armor didn't show any more than Stanley's pedestal did. As it turned out, Hugo did indeed have the courage. "Or it doesn't count," he said firmly.

  "Who says it doe
sn't count?" Gorbage demanded belligerently.

  Again Hugo needed a boost of confidence, but Ivy's faith was strong, and so he had it. "The law. And people who don't follow the law of the land are crooks and thiefs and murderers and all-around bad folk--which I guess goblins are anyway."

  "What?" the goblin chief exclaimed, brandishing his dark fist. "It's the harpies who are bad folk! I'll exterminate you, you smart-mouthed twit!"

  "Yes, of course," Hugo agreed. "That's what murderers do, by definition."

  Again Gorbage paused. He was cunning enough to see that he could not handily disprove the charge of murder by murdering his accuser. Hugo had verbally outmaneuvered him. "Okay, snot! We'll have a persecutor and deaf-ender and witlesses." He glared around, but there were no free goblins; all twelve were on the hanging jury. "But I have no more people!"

  "Too bad," Hugo said. "Then you can't have a proper trial, and everyone will know you for what you are: a gutless murderer who kills innocent people dead."

  "We'll have the trial!" Gorbage insisted, swelling to just this side of the bursting point. "You smart-mouth--you be the deaf-ender.--And--and my daughter'll be the persecutor. Then the mur--the execution's all legal."

  "I won't--" Glory began, but Hugo interrupted her.

  "Yes, she'll do it," he said. "That's fair."

  "What?" Glory shrieked.

  "He's up to something," Ivy whispered to her. "He's very smart. You'd better do it."

  Dismayed, the goblin girl was silent. "Okay, now we got it," Gorbage said, grimacing smugly. "Persecutor, make your winning case."

  Reluctantly, Glory went to stand before Hardy's post. Ivy saw her hand move toward her knife, but she didn't draw it. Any attempt to cut Hardy's tether would bring the goblins down on them in a savage horde. "I intend to--to prove to this dumb jury that the defendant is the handsomest, finest, nicest male creature alive, better than any ugly old knobby-kneed goblin--"

  "Out of order!" Judge Gorbage ruled. "You're supposed to prove that this feathered freak is guilty of corrupting and polluting a fine goblin damsel and must be instantly put to death in the crudest possible manner."

  Stanley was quietly chewing on his net. He had separated several strands and was working on others. In due course he would be free--if he had time to complete the job without being noticed. Glory's eye fell on him and lighted with comprehension. A loose dragon could disrupt a trial long enough for a tether to be cut!