"How?"
Dor sighed. "No way, without a bucket. We just aren't set up to handle this cactus."
"Yeah. A firedrake could handle it. Those plants don't like fire: it burns off their needles. Then they can't fight until they grow new ones, and that takes time. But we don't have any fire." He shook a few drops from his body. "Sometimes I wish you had more physical magic, Dor. If you could point your finger and paralyze or stun or burn--"
"Then the Good Magician would have had other defenses for his castle, that those talents would be useless against. Magic is not enough; you have to use your brain."
"How can a brain stop a needier from needling?" Grundy demanded. "The thing isn't smart; you can't make a deal with it."
"The cactus isn't smart," Dor repeated, an idea forming. "So it might not grasp what would be obvious to us."
"Whatever you're talking about is not obvious to me, either," the golem said.
"Your talent is translation. Can you talk cactus language too?"
"Of course. But what has that to do with--"
"Suppose we told it we were dangerous to it? That we were salamanders, burning hot, about to burn it down?"
"Wouldn't work. It might be scared--but all it would do would be to fire off a volley of needles, to kill the salamander before the creature could get close."
"Hm, yes. But what about something that wasn't threatening, but was still sort of dangerous? A fireman, maybe, just passing through with flame on low."
Grundy considered. "That just might work. But if it failed--"
"Doom," Dor finished. "We'd be pincushions."
Both looked back at the moat. The triton was watching them alertly. "Pincushions either way," Grundy said. "I sure wish we were heroes, instead of golems and boys. We're not cut out for this sort of thing."
"The longer we stand here, the more scared I get," Dor agreed. "So let's get on with it before I start crying," he added, and wished he hadn't phrased it quite that way.
Grundy looked at the needle-cactus again. "When I was really a golem, a little thing like a needier couldn't hurt me. I wasn't real. I felt no pain. But now--I'm too scared to know what to say."
"I'll say it. It's my quest, after all; you don't have to participate. I don't know why you're risking yourself here anyway."
"Because I care, you twit!"
Which had to be true. "Okay. You just translate what I say into cactus talk." Dor nerved himself again and walked slowly toward the vegetable monster.
"Say something! Say something!" Grundy cried, as needles oriented on them visibly, ready to fly off their handles.
"I am a fireman," Dor said uncertainly. "I--I am made of fire. Anything that touches me gets burned to a crisp. This is my firedog, Grundy the growler. I am just taking my hot dog for a walk, just passing through, chewing idly on a firecracker. I love crackers!"
Grundy made a running series of scrapes and whistles, as of wind blowing through erect cactus needles. The needier seemed to be listening; there was an alert quiver about its needles now. Could this possibly work?
"We are merely passing through," Dor continued. "We aren't looking for trouble. We don't like to burn off needles unless we really have to, because they scorch and pop and smell real bad." He saw some needles wilt as Grundy translated. The message was getting through! "We have nothing against cactuses, so long as they keep their place. Some cactuses are very nice. Some of Grundy's best friends are cactuses; he likes to--" Dor paused. What would a firedog do with a compatible cactus? Water it down, of course--with a stream of fire. That wouldn't go over very well, here. "Uh, he likes to sniff their flowers as he dogtrots by. We only get upset if any needles happen to get in our way. When we get upset, we get very hot. Very very hot. In fact we just get all burned up." He decided not to overdo it, lest he lose credibility. "But we aren't too hot right now because we know no nice cactus would try to stick us. So we won't have to burn off any inconvenient needles."
The cactus seemed to withdraw into itself, giving them room to pass without touching. His ploy was working! "My, these firecrackers are good. Would you like a cracker, cactus?" He held out one hand.
The cactus gave a little keen of apprehension, much as the tangler had when Crunch the ogre growled at it. The needles shied away. Then Dor was past it, penetrating into the alcove passage. But he was still within range of the needier, so he kept talking. After all, if the thing caught on to his ruse, it would be a very angry cactus.
"Sure was nice meeting you, cactus. You're a real sharp creature. Not like the one I encountered the other day, who tried to put a needle in my back. I fear I lost my temper. Tempering takes a lot of heat. I fired up like a wounded salamander, and I went back and hugged that poor cactus until all its needles burst into flame. The scorch marks are still on it, but I'm happy to say that it will probably survive. Lucky it was a wet day, raining in fact, so my heat only cooked its outer layers some instead of setting the whole thing on fire. I'm sorry I did that; I really think that needle in the back was an accident. Something that just slipped out. I just can't help myself when I get hot."
He rounded the curve in the passage, so that he was no longer in view of the needier. Then he leaned against the wall, feeling faint.
Grundy's translation came to an end. "You're the best liar I've ever seen," he said admiringly.
"I'm the scaredest liar you've ever seen!"
"Well, I guess it takes practice. But you did well; I could hardly keep up with those whoppers! But I knew if I cracked a smile, I'd really get needled."
Dor pondered the implications. He had indeed achieved his victory by lying. Was that the way it should be? He doubted it. He made a mental resolution: no more lying. Not unless absolutely necessary. If a thing could not be accomplished honestly, probably it wasn't worth accomplishing at all.
"I never realized what a coward I was," Dor said, changing the subject slightly. "I'll never grow up."
"I'm a coward too," Grundy said consolingly. "I've never been so scared since I turned real."
"One more challenge to handle--the worst one. I wish I were man-sized and man-couraged!"
"Me too," the golem agreed.
The passage terminated in a conventional door with a conventional door latch. "Here we come, ready or not," Dor muttered.
"You're not ready," the door replied.
Dor ignored it. He worked the latch and opened the door.
There was a small room paneled in bird-of-paradise feathers. A woman of extraordinary perfection stood watching them. She wore a low-cut gown, jeweled sandals, a comprehensive kerchief, and an imported pair of Mundane dark glasses. "Welcome, guests," she breathed, in such a way that Dor's gaze was attracted to the site of breathing, right where the gown was cut lowest yet fullest.
"Uh, thanks," Dor said, nonplused. This was the worst hazard of all? He needed no adult-male vision to see that it was a hazard few men would balk at.
"There's something about her--I don't like this," Grundy whispered in his ear. "I know her from somewhere--"
"Here, let me have a look at you," the woman said, lifting her hand to her glasses. Dor's glance was drawn away from her torso to her face. Her hair began to move under her kerchief, as if separately alive.
Grundy stiffened. "Close your eyes!" he cried. "I recognize her now. Those serpent locks--that's the gorgon!"
Dor's eyes snapped closed. He barged ahead, trying to get out of the room before any accident caused him to take an involuntary look. He knew what the gorgon was; her glance turned men to stone. If they met that glance with their own.
His blindly moving feet tripped over a step, and Dor fell headlong. He threw his arms up to shield his face, but did not open his eyes. He landed jarringly and lay there, eyelids still tightly screwed down.
There was the swish of long skirts coming near. "Get up, young man," the gorgon said. Her voice was deceptively soft.
"No!" Dor cried. "I don't want to turn to stone!"
"You won't turn to stone.
The hurdles are over; you have won your way into the castle of the Good Magician Humfrey. No one will harm you here."
"Go away!" he said. "I won't look at you!"
She sighed, very femininely. "Golem, you look at me. Then you can reassure your friend."
"I don't want to be stone either!" Grundy protested. "I had too much trouble getting real to throw it away now. I saw what happened to all those men your sister the siren lured to your island."
"And you also saw how the Good Magician nullified me. There is no threat now."
"That's right! He--but how do I know the spell's still on? It's been a long time since--"
"Take this mirror and look at me through the reflection first," she said. "Then you will know."
"I can't handle a big mirror! I'm only inches tall, only a--oh, what's the use! Dor, I'm going to look at her. If I turn to stone, you'll know she can't be trusted."
"Grundy, don't--"
"I already have," the golem said, relieved. "It's all right, Dor, you can look."
Grundy had never deceived him. Dor clenched his teeth and cracked open an eye, seeing the lighted room and the gorgon's nearest foot. It was a very pretty foot, with fluorescently tinted toenails, topped by a shapely ankle. Funny how he had never noticed ankles before! He got to his hands and knees, his eyes traveling cautiously up her marvelously molded legs until the view was cut off by the hem of her gown. It was a shapely gown, too, slightly translucent so that the suggestion of her legs continued on up to--but enough of this stalling. He forced his reluctant eyes to travel all the way up past her contours until they approached her head.
Her hair, now unbound, consisted of a mass of writhing little snakes. They were appealingly horrible. But the face was nothing. Just a vacuum, as if the head were a hollow ball with the front panel removed.
"But--but I saw your face before, all except the eyes--"
"You saw this mask of my face," she said, holding it up. "And the dark glasses. There was never any chance for you to look into my true face."
So it seemed. "Then why--?"
"To scare you off--if you lacked the courage to do what is necessary in order to reach the Good Magician."
"I just closed my eyes and ran," Dor said.
"But you ran forward, not back."
So he had. Even in his terror, he had not given up his quest. Or had he merely run whichever way he happened to be facing? Dor wasn't sure. He considered the gorgon again. Once he got used to the anomaly of her missing face, he found her quite attractive. "But you--what is a gorgon doing here?"
"I am serving my year's fee, awaiting my Answer." Dor shook his head, trying to get this straight. "You?--if I may ask--what was your Question?"
"I asked the Good Magician if he would marry me."
Dor choked. "He--he made you--serve a fee, for that?"
"Oh, yes. He always charges a year's service, or the equivalent. That's why he has so much magic around the castle. He's been in this business for a century or so."
"I know all that! But yours was a different kind of--"
She seemed to smile, behind her invisibility. "No exceptions, except maybe on direct order from the King. I don't mind. I knew what to expect when I came here. Soon my year will be finished, and I will have my Answer."
Grundy shook his little head. "I thought the old gnome was nuts. But this--he's crazy!"
"By no means," the gorgon said. "I could make him a pretty good wife, once I learn the ropes. He may be old, but he's not dead, and he needs--"
"I meant, to make you work a year--why doesn't he just marry you, and have your service for life?"
"You want me to ask him a second Question, and serve another year for the Answer?" she demanded.
"Uh, no. I was just curious. I don't really understand the Good Magician."
"You and everyone else!" she agreed wryly, and Dor began to feel an affinity for this shapely, faceless female. "But slowly I'm learning his ways. It is a good question you raise; I shall have to think about it, and maybe I can figure out that answer for myself. If he wants my service, why would he settle for a year of It when he could readily have it all? If he doesn't want my service, why not send me out to guard the moat or something where he won't have to see me every day? There has got to be a reason." She scratched her head, causing several snakes to hiss warningly.
"Why do you even want to marry him?" Grundy asked. "He's such a gloomy old gnome, he's no prize for a woman, especially a pretty one."
"Who said I wanted to marry him?"
Grundy did a rare double take. "You distinctly--your Question--"
"That is for information, golem. Once I know whether he will marry me, I'll be able to decide whether I should do it. It's a difficult decision."
"Agreed," Grundy said. "King Trent must have labored similarly before marrying Queen Iris."
"Do you love him?" Dor inquired.
"Well, I think I do. You see, he's the first man who ever associated with me without...you know." She nodded her head toward the corner. There was the statue of a man, carved beautifully in marble.
"That's--?" Dor asked, alarmed.
"No, I really am a statue," the stone answered him. "A fine original work of sculpture."
"Humfrey won't let me do any real conversions," the gorgon said. "Not even for old times' sake. I'm just here to identify the foolish or to scare off the fault-hearted. The Magician won't answer cowards."
"Then he won't answer me," Dor said sadly. "I was so scared--"
"No, that's not cowardice. Being terrified but going ahead and doing what must be done--that's courage. The one who feels no fear is a fool, and the one who lets fear rule him is a coward. You are neither. Same for you, golem. You never deserted your friend, and were willing to risk your precious flesh body to help him. I think the Magician will answer."
Dor considered that. "I sure don't feel very brave," he said at last. "All I did was hide my face."
"I admit it would have been more impressive had you closed your eyes and fenced with me blind!" she said. "Or snatched up a mirror to use. We keep several handy, for those who have the wit to take that option. But you're only a boy. The standards are not as strict."
"Uh, yes," Dor agreed, still not pleased.
"You should have seen me when I came here," she warmly. "I was so frightened, I hid my face--just as you did."
"If you didn't hide your face, you'd turn everyone to stone," Grundy pointed out
"That too," she agreed.
"Say," Grundy demanded. "It was twelve years ago when you met the Good Gnome. I was there, remember? How come you're just now asking your Question?"
"I left my island at the Time of No Magic," she said frankly. "Suddenly no magic worked at all in the whole Land of Xanth, and the magic things were dying or turning mundane, and all the old spells were undone. I don't know why that was--"
"I know," Grundy said. "But I can't tell, except to say it won't happen again."
"All my former conquests reverted to life. There were some pretty rowdy men there, you know--trolls and things. So I got all flustered and fled. I was afraid they would hurt me."
"That was a sensible fear," Grundy said. "When they didn't catch you, they went back to the Magic Dust village where most of them had come from, and I guess they're still there. Lot of very eager women in that village, after all that time with all their men gone."
"But when the magic came back, the Magician's spell on my face was gone. It was one of the one-shot variety, that carried only until interrupted. A lot of spells are like that, mine included. So I had my face again, and I--you know."
Dor knew. She had started making statues again.
"By then, I knew what was happening," she continued. "I had been pretty naive, there on my isolated island, but I was learning. I really didn't want to be that way. So I remembered what Humfrey had said about Mundania, where magic doesn't ever work--that certainly must be a potent counterspell laid on that land!--and I went there. And he was right. I was a
normal girl. I had thought I could never stand to leave there, but the Time of No Magic showed me that maybe I could stand it after all. And when I tried, I could.
It was sort of strange and fun, not nearly as bad as I had feared. People accepted me, and men--do you know I'd never kissed a man in Xanth?"
Dor was ashamed to comment He had never kissed a woman other than his mother, who of course didn't count. He thought fleetingly of Millie. If--
"But after a while I began to miss Xanth," the gorgon continued. "The magic, the special creatures--do you know I even got to miss the tangle trees? When you're born to magic you can't just set it aside; it is part of your being. So I had to come back. But that meant--you know, more statues. So I went to Humfrey's castle. By that time I knew he was the Good Magician--he never told me that when we met!--and that he wasn't all that approachable, and I got girlishly nervous. I knew that if I wanted to be with a man in Xanth, I mean man-to-woman, it would have to be one like him. Who had the power to neutralize my talent. The more I thought about it--well, here I am."
""Didn't you have trouble getting into the castle?"
"Oh, yes! It was awful. There was this foghorn guarding the moat, and I found this little boat there, but every time I tried to cross that horn blasted out such columns of fog that I couldn't see or hear anything, and the boat always turned around and came back to shore. It was a magic boat, you see; you had to steer it or it went right back to its dock. I got all covered in fog, and my hair was hissing something awful; it doesn't like that sort of thing."
Her hair, of course, consisted of myriad tiny snakes or eels. They were rather cute, now that he was getting used to the style. "How did you get across the moat, then?"
"I finally got smart. I steered the boat directly toward the foghorn, no matter how bad the fog got. It was like swimming through a waterfall! When I reached the horn--I was across. Because it was inside, not outside."
"Oops--the gnome cometh," Grundy said.
"Oh, I must get back to work!" the gorgon said, hastily tripping out of the room. "I was in the middle of the laundry when you arrived; he uses more socks!" She was gone.
"Gnomes do have big dirty feet," Grundy remarked. "sort of like goblins, in that respect."
Castle Roogna Page 5
