They raced on through a series of arches. But there was a man with a sledgehammer knocking them down. He looked like Graeboe Giant-Harpy. “Why are you making falling arches?” Kim asked him.
“I have to. I’m an arch-enemy.”
“This is one weird place!” Kim exclaimed as they raced on into a sheep pasture. But now their I-cycles were melting. Soon both dissolved into puddles, on which the breeze raised very small waves. In fact, they were microwaves. That left Kim and Dug standing on their feet in the pasture.
“You won,” Dug said. “You cycled farther than I did before yours melted.”
Kim looked around at the sheep, laughing. “That depends on your point of ewe.” She didn’t notice that neither Dug nor the centaurs laughed.
Then they saw the beautiful sunset. “Oh, this has just been the most wonderful day of my young life!” Kim cried. “I’m so excited I could burst! I think my soul is ready to float away in pure happiness.”
“Yes,” Dug agreed. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. The centaurs flinched.
Something was wrong. Kim seemed to shrink, to dwindle, to fall away as if struck. “Oh, I am undone!” she cried. “You have sucked out my soul!”
“Right,” Dug said, satisfied. “And a fine soul it is, too.” He walked away, whistling. The centaurs followed, downcast.
“He what?” Metria asked. She realized belatedly that she was in one of Jenny’s dreams, and so were the others.
“He sucked out her soul,” Jenny said. “He is a soul vampire.”
“That’s awful!”
Jenny didn’t answer. Metria watched in horror as Kim staggered away, barely finding her way home. She looked despondent, hopeless, empty, and wishing she could die. But, Jenny explained, Kim discovered that scattered bits of her soul remained, clinging to her deepest loves, such as her pet green steamer dragon who came out looking for her and helped her struggle the rest of the way home. These pieces came together to keep her alive, but they were only a shadow of what had originally been hers.
Kim was now mostly soulless, and with this emptiness came the baser emotions. She had been happy; now she was depressed. She had loved life; now she had the urge to kill. She was bent on revenge. She got a sharp knife and made a concealed sheath for it, so she could keep it with her all the time.
“No, no!” the inadequate fragments of her soul cried faintly. “This is not right!”
Because those fragments were precious to her, Kim tried to heed them. She went to a wise and gentle man to ask for help. This man was Graeboe Giant-Harpy, no longer knocking down arches. “My child,” he counseled her, “do not seek revenge. Stay home and let yourself recover; your soul may regenerate in time from the fragments you still possess.”
It was good advice, but she lacked enough soul to take it seriously. Vengeance was an easy concept, and forgiveness a difficult one, for a person with too little soul. She had thought Dug loved her, and he had only been after her soul. He had played her along, until her happiness of the occasion had lightened her soul and loosened its moorings, so that he could more readily steal it. He had callously taken her most precious possession. She had to make him pay for it.
In fact, she wanted to kill him. Yet she was also afraid that he might return, realizing that he hadn’t gotten quite all her soul. She didn’t know how she would react if she saw him again, because the main remaining fragment of her soul was what had loved him most deeply. She was afraid that if she somehow found him, she wouldn’t be able to destroy him, because of that little bit of love that remained in her, and that he would then finish her off, cleaning out the last bits and pieces of the remnants of her soul, leaving her entirely barren. So she wasn’t certain whether she should kill him, or if she could. She battled the monsters in her mind, trying to come to a firm decision.
In the dream, those monsters appeared, resembling two gargoyles and a walking skeleton. Kim fought them, but her knife had no effect on stone or bone, and she had to retreat.
She realized that she wasn’t the only victim. Dug must have done this to many other girls before her. Ooo, that made her furious! Maybe she could, after all, kill him.
Then Dug reappeared. She knew what he wanted: the rest of her soul, which had regenerated a little bit. She knew what she should do: stab him. But he was so handsome, and so much fun to be with, and his two sad centaur steeds were so nice. He brought her a Q-T pie, guaranteed to make her cute. He promised to take her to see the bottle-nosed purpose, one of Xanth’s most helpful marine creatures. He said they could even go to Washing-town, where they washed folk utterly clean. He spoke of eating the special fruit that hung from bendy branches and tasted so good that anyone who tasted it was ready to have a party; it was called the dangling party citrus. It all sounded so wonderful!
In this manner he wooed her again, and though she knew better, she felt herself giving up. She wanted to believe it was true, that she could share joy with him as she had before, that her loss of soul had been only a bad part of the dream. She wanted to love him. At the same time she knew that she was being utterly foolish, and that she should kill him. She fought to get her hand on the hidden knife, to bring it out and up, to stab him, but her willpower was feeble and fading.
Dug took her in his arms and brought his lips down to hers. He was going to do it! He was going to suck the meager rest of her soul out, and leave her completely void.
She made one final effort. Her knifepoint came up partway. She wasn’t able to stab him, just to prick him through his clothing.
And he exploded like a burst balloon. Souls flew out everywhere. Some were fresh, some decayed; some were in good shape, some hideously shrunken. Most were in between. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them—and in his greed he had wanted yet more. He had been so full of souls that he was ready to burst, and her tiny pinprick had done it. She had, after all, managed to kill him.
Kim remained seriously shaken, not to mention appalled and disgusted and afraid, but she had the common sense to grab her own soul before it floated away, and draw it back into her. It was one of the good ones; it had not had time to get degraded. She was whole again!
The two centaurs grabbed at their own souls similarly. Then their sadness faded, and they smiled. “You have saved us!” they told Kim. “You are a heroine.” They spread their wings and flew joyfully home, no longer bound to the one who had stolen their souls and exploited them.
So Kim went home, feeling better, though she was sorry about losing such a handsome suitor.
Unfortunately, there was a wannabee in the neighborhood. This bee liked to assume characteristics that didn’t belong to it. This time it assumed the mantle of Public Citizen. It had seen her prick Dug, and reported her to the Better Business Bureau. She was arrested and brought to trial. Since there was no delectable corpse, they charged her with something else, because it wouldn’t do to have a false arrest.
The Judge was a machine with a stem monitor screen who looked just like Com Pewter. The Prosecutor was a fierce black man resembling Sherlock.
“We shall demonstrate that the Defendant violated the Adult Conspiracy,” the Prosecutor said.
“But she didn’t mean to,” the Defense Attorney protested. She looked like Gloha Goblin-Harpy.
“Who says I did it?” Kim demanded.
“I do,” a winged monster replied. “I am the Simurgh. With my omniscience I saw that when you rolled in the feathers with that man, you were careless about how your skirt hiked up, and a baby mouse looked out of its hole and saw your panties. That is a violation.”
“But this is ridiculous!” Kim protested. “I never even knew the mouse was there.”
SILENCE, the Judge’s screen printed. HOW DO YOU PLEAD?
“This is crazy!” Kim said. “Here I have just survived having my soul stolen, not to mention losing my boyfriend, and all you care about is—”
IRRELEVANT STATEMENT DELETED, the Judge printed, and it was as if it had never been spoken, for reality was cha
nged.
“I don’t care what the Defendant knew or when she knew it,” Sherlock said grimly. “I am prepared to bring the mouse in to testify to the crime.”
“But the Defendant is a person of good character, from a far land,” Gloha said. “She had no knowledge of any such violation.”
“Ignorance is no excuse,” Sherlock insisted.
“And she restored lost souls to many folk,” Gloha said. “I am prepared to bring in two centaurs to testify to that. Surely the good she has done outweighs any inadvertent evil.”
“She did the crime,” Sherlock said.
“She’s a good person,” Gloha replied.
The Judge’s screen flashed. THE CASES HAVE BEEN MADE. THE JURY WILL NOW RENDER THE VERDICT.
Suddenly Metria was the cynosure of all eyes. This was weird, because she wasn’t even slightly sure of anything, let alone cyno sure. “Who, me?” she asked.
YES, YOU.
“This is all just a crazy dream!” Metria exclaimed. “This whole thing is just a house of cards. I’m getting out of here.” And she broke her way out of Jenny’s dream.
Only to find herself in the middle of the Jury Room, still being watched by at least a dozen pairs of eyes. NOW YOU MUST DECIDE, FOR WE CANNOT, AND WE MUST NOT BE A HUNG JURY, Com Pewte printed, the image of a hangman’s noose appearing on his screen. IS THE DEFENDANT GUILTY?
“I’ll do no such thing!” Metria said. “I’m not even on this Jury.”
DEMONESS CHANGES HER MIND.
Metria found herself with her mind changed. “Yes, of course I’ll decide,” she agreed. “Just let me ponder a bit.”
OTHERS RELAX WHILE DEMONESS PONDERS. Musical notes appeared on Com Pewter’s screen, and Jenny Elf began to hum again. Soon a new picture formed, with all the members of the Jury at the fancy castle, dancing in the ballroom. Marrow did the Danse Macabre with a fine rattling of bones, while Gloha and Graeboe did pirouettes in the upper dome. Stanley Steamer kept the beat by clacking his teeth, and the two gargoyles made stone circles around each other. The rest formed a fine square dance, drawing Marrow in to make it complete, and then a round dance, followed by a triangle dance. In this dream Dug was handsome in a formal suit, and Kim lovely in a flowing dress, and the rest looked great too. They were all having a wonderful time.
But not Metria. She was stuck with the Verdict. They couldn’t decide, so they wanted her to do it for them, and Com Pewter had changed her reality so that she couldn’t refuse. She was supposed to decide whether Kim was guilty of showing her panties to a baby mouse, but she knew that this was just a Suppose story. The real Verdict would be on Roxanne Roc, who had just as innocently erred.
How could a responsible Jury abdicate its responsibility like this, by assigning the decision to a slightly weird demoness? This was a plain violation of its whatever.
In fact, this was a demons’ beauty contest. The issue would be decided not by those who had the debate, but by an innocent person who hardly knew what was going on. That person was Metria herself. “Hoist by my own petard!” she muttered angrily.
‘Lift up what?’ Mentia inquired. ‘Did you say something dirty?’
‘I’m caught in my own kind of scheme. I helped arrange a marriage by setting up a demons’ beauty contest, and now the Jury is making me decide their Verdict similarly.’
‘I wonder what gave them that notion.’
A light bulb glowed. The Demoness V(EN)us! This was her third effort to mess up the trial! She had caused the duly appointed Jury to abdicate in favor of an unqualified creature. Metria understood this now—but still couldn’t change it, because of Com Pewter’s stricture. It might be wrong, but she still had to do it.
Well, there was a way out. She could just pop back to Judge Grossclout and tell him what had happened. Com Pewter wasn’t watching her at the moment; she could escape before he overwrote her decision.
But what would happen then? Grossclout would declare a mistrial—and that would probably represent the victory of the Demoness V(EN)us, who was trying to disrupt the proceedings. There had to be a Verdict—or the Demon X(AN)th would lose, and all Xanth would pay the price. So Metria had to do it—even if it resulted in an unfair Verdict.
But not alone. ‘Mentia! Woe Betide! You are in this too. You decide.’
‘Sure,’ soulless Mentia said. ‘The law may be crazy, and I’m crazy, and I say she showed her panties and she’s guilty.’
‘No she isn’t!’ Woe Betide protested. ‘She’s a good girl who was led astray by a bad man. He pushed her, he made her roll in the feathers. He is the guilty one.’
‘But he’s not on trial,’ Mentia said. ‘Maybe they’re both guilty. We have to decide about her, no one else. And she did it.’
‘But there were ex—ext—exten—’ Woe Betide stalled, unable to handle such an adult word.
‘Extenuating circumstances,’ Metria said.
‘Yes. So she’s innocent.’
Mentia and Woe Betide were on opposite sides, making another hung jury. So it was up to Metria after all. She couldn’t let all the others get hung.
The case, as presented to her, was against Kim Mundane, who had been deceived, led astray, deprived of most of her soul, and arrested when she fought back. Instead of charging her with the crime of killing an evil predator, they had trumped up a ludicrous incidental indictment they thought would be easier to prove. Because Kim had acted in self-defense, and helped many others recover their souls, so should be praised rather than condemned. So she was on trial for something irrelevant, because someone wanted a conviction. The tactic reeked.
And Roxanne Roc had given almost six centuries of loyal service, doing as well as any creature in Xanth could have. Yet instead of being requited as she deserved, she was put on trial for a trifling technical violation. Why? So as to avoid the need to reward her? That gross unfairness was surely what had hopelessly divided the Jury, and it divided Metria too. She wanted to praise Roxanne, not punish her, but the situation had been so crafted that she couldn’t. She had to decide on the basis of the limited technicality. Oh yes, the Jury had re-created the situation, in the guise of a different story, so that no one could say that an unauthorized person had made the decision about Roxanne. But in fact, they had dumped the outrage into Metria’s lap. She had to decide.
Why had the Simurgh done this? Why did Grossclout and the others go along with it? Where was there any fairness in any of this business? Metria had only half a soul, yet she could see that this entire thing was a travesty. The Jury saw that too. Why couldn’t the Simurgh? She was supposed to be an extremely fair-minded and wise bird. Was she actually just a mean-spirited creature determined to welsh on a deal?
But the Simurgh was not on trial. Roxanne Roc was. Metria had to address the issue before her, not the issue she wished she could tackle. Maybe the Demoness V(EN)us figured that the Jury would refuse to address that issue, and would win if that happened. And if Metria herself refused, what mischief might she be doing to all Xanth?
She struggled, going round and round, but finally she came to an unwilling conclusion. “It’s crazy, it’s wrong, it’s ludicrous, it’s a blot on us all, the law is a mule, but technically Kim is guilty of the charge against her,” she said.
The dance abruptly stopped. All the living Jurors looked stricken. But it was clear that they had made a deal, and were honoring it.
SO BE IT, Com Pewter printed. DEMONESS, INFORM JUDGE GROSS-CLOUT THAT THE JURY HAS REACHED ITS VERDICT. YOU WILL SAY NOTHING OF THE MANNER OF IT. And the others nodded grimly. This was their secret—and hers.
Had she just saved Xanth—at the expense of a noble and really innocent bird? Metria was much afraid that she had.
She popped out. Grossclout scowled at her. “The Jury is ready,” she said grimly. And wished she could sink into some other realm.
The Judge called the court to order. The various celebrants ceased their efforts and quickly returned to the main chamber. The audience had swelled in size,
because of the arrival of King Dor, Queen Iris, and the rest of the Castle Roogna personnel. Even the Good Magician Humfrey and the members of his household were here now. Metria was amazed. She had delivered Grossclout’s general summons, but it was still astonishing to see it honored so completely. The Good Magician almost never left his gloomy study.
The Jury returned to its Jury Box. Metria saw that several of the female members were dabbing their faces with handkerchiefs, and several males looked unhappy. They had not liked their decision any better than Metria had. Only Com Pewter looked smug with a smiley-face on his screen. He must have been the only one to insist on guilty, forcing them all to face the threat of being hung. And Metria had sided with him. What a disgrace!
“Have you reached a Verdict?” Judge Grossclout inquired rhetorically, through a glower.
“We have, Your Honor,” Sherlock said. He was evidently the foreman. “We find the defendant, Roxanne Roc, guilty as charged.”
There was a gasp of dismay from the audience. Princess Ida looked stunned, and her moon turned its bright face away, becoming dark. In the adjacent chamber Roxanne’s beak dipped; if she had hoped for better, it had been in vain.
Yet somewhere distant there was a sinister vibration as a powerful demoness cursed and departed. Metria thought she knew who that was. CORRECT, DEMONESS, the Simurgh’s thought came. YOU HAVE SAVED XANTH. THE DEMONESS V(EN)us’ BET WAS THAT ROXANNE WOULD NOT BE CONVICTED. SHE BELIEVED THAT NO JURY COULD BE FOUND TO DECIDE STRICTLY ON THE BASIS OF THE EVIDENCE.
She had indeed saved Xanth. But at what price? Metria’s half soul was hurting.
Judge Grossclout nodded. “Roxanne Roc, you have been found guilty of violation of the Adult Conspiracy to Keep Interesting Things from Children. Because this may prejudice an extremely important chick, I sentence you to a continuation of your obligation to care for this bird until such time as the Adult Conspiracy no longer applies to it.”
“Objection!” Ida cried. “That could be centuries!”
The Judge ignored her. “You will continue to place the welfare of this creature before all others, until it is grown and independent. No other desire or obligation will take precedence over this mission.” He glared in her direction. “Do you understand and accept this sentence, Roxanne Roc?”
Roc and a Hard Place Page 32
