Dragon on a Pedestal (14 page)

“I’ll try to get them back for you!” Irene said.

“No, I was about ready to get some new exhibits anyway. But I planned to do it in an orderly fashion. You have nothing I want except your body for my son.”

“Then I’ll fetch him a nymph!”

“Nymphs don’t breed. They’re playmates, not reproducers. He’s already had more than enough play time.”

There seemed to be some justice in that statement. Irene cudgeled her brain for some other notion that might appeal to the single-minded witch, but nothing offered.

“There must be something!” Chem said. Her fate was on the line, too. “Witches always need strange things for their collections.”

“The only other thing I want, you could not get,” the witch said shortly. “But as mates for my son and his steed, you are, as it were, birds in the hand.”

“Try us,” Chem said. “We might surprise you.” “Yeah, try them, battle-axe,” Grundy agreed.

“Quiet, you runty rag snippet,” the witch told him. “I am just about to try them! Xavier, come stand before this woman, so I can give her the order—”

“I meant the alternative service!” Chem cried.

“Nice choice of terms, mare-mane,” Grundy remarked.

“What is the one other thing you want?” Irene cried, picking up on Chem’s lead.

“Aw, Maw don’t want nothing else—” Xavier began.

“Quiet, you moron!” Irene snapped at him.

Xanthippe considered. “Very well, I will mention the other matter, so that you can see it is useless to consider. All my long and angry life I have wanted three seeds from the Tree of Seeds—”

“Seeds!” Irene exclaimed. “I know about seeds!”

The witch paused, reappraising her. “Why, so you do! You do have a way with plants. However, these are not ordinary seeds, and I seriously doubt—”

“What is this Tree of Seeds?” Chem asked, more cautious about an unknown commitment than Irene was. “I don’t believe I have information on it.”

Irene realized that it had to be an extremely rare tree, for centaurs were well educated, with a great bent for taxonomy, and Chem specialized in geography. Indeed, she had mapped most of Xanth as part of her course of centaur research. Because of her, the once-unknown regions of the Elements in northern Xanth were now known. She would be aware of the most significant things in Xanth.

“It’s on Mount Parnassus, hidden in the illiterate wilderness,” the witch explained. “Only my son’s hippogryph knows how to reach it from here. And the Tree is guarded by the Simurgh.”

“The Simurgh!” Chem explained. “That’s the wisest bird alive! It has seen the destruction of the universe three times and has all the knowledge of the ages! I didn’t realize it remained in Xanth; I thought it had departed centuries ago. How I’d love to interview it, even for an hour!”

“Which relates to the rest of my desire,” Xanthippe said. “What I’d like is a feather from its tail. Those feathers have magical properties, and can cure wounds. But the way to Mount Parnassus is so dangerous—”

“This Tree of Seeds,” Irene said. “What kind of seeds does it have?”

“All the seeds produced by all the wild plants that exist,” the witch said, her wicked old eyes turning dreamy for a moment. “The seed from which my own coven-tree sprouted came from there centuries ago. Likewise the pagean-tree, geome-tree, infant-tree, indus-tree and psychia-tree.”

“I would very much like to see that psychia-tree,” Chem murmured. “I suspect that would be a mind-affecting experience.”

“There are seeds on the Tree of Seeds that no longer exist anywhere else,” the witch concluded. “Seeds no ordinary person can even imagine!”

“I’m sure a centaur could imagine them,” Chem said.

“Such as the ex-seed, the pro-seed, and the inter-seed,” Xanthippe said.

“All the seeds that exist!” Irene breathed. “How I’d like to see that Tree!”

“You can’t reach it,” the witch asserted. ‘Parnassus is guarded by the Python, who consumes anyone who sets foot there. No one of any intelligence has ventured near Parnassus in decades.”

“But we aren’t that smart,” Grundy said. “We might venture.”

For once the big-mouthed golem was correct! “Suppose we make you a deal,” Irene said. “We’ll fetch your three seeds and one feather, and you’ll return my child and let us go.”

Xanthippe shook her head. “It’s too much of a gamble. You might never return.”

“But of course I’ll return for my child!” Irene exclaimed.

“Not if you die on the way.”

Oh. There was that indeed. Yet if the alternative was to be involuntarily mated to the witch’s son—

“We’ll do it,” Irene decided. “We’ll fetch your feather and seeds. If we don’t return, you lose. But if we do return, you will have the items you have always wanted that you can get in no other way.”

“Double or nothing, bag,” Grundy put in.

“I’m not sure—” Xanthippe said, wavering.

“Just tell us how to reach Parnassus.”

“I can’t tell you,” the witch said. “Only the hippogryph knows the way, and only my son can control that beast.”

Irene perceived another reason Xanthippe was halfway careful about the feelings of her son. Xavier did have some leverage. Xap would be dangerous indeed, were he not under control.

“So Xav and Xap come along, frump,” Grundy said. “No problem there.”

Irene winced. No problem? The last thing she wanted was to associate closely with the witch’s son, and she doubted Chem was any more sanguine about the hippogryph. Yet it seemed to be the only feasible way to reach Parnassus, and Parnassus seemed to be the only route clear of their present predicament. So if she had to conquer Parnassus to get her child safely back, she would do it. “This time Grundy is right,” Irene agreed reluctantly. “They must come along.”

“What do you mean, ‘this time’?” Grundy cried.

“Quiet, you nitwit!” Chem snapped, poising her forehoof above his cage.

“Xavier and Xap can lead the way, and we’ll follow—” Irene began, then broke off, for she saw the zombie. Zora was making her way toward them, carrying something.

Irene sighed inwardly. She had forgotten about Zora! Of course she couldn’t neglect the zombie, who had saved them from the monster of the night. Yet Zora would only be a hindrance on this special quest.

The zombie shuffled up. She held out the thing she carried, showing it to Irene. It was a scale from a fish or reptile, apparently broken off in the course of some quarrel or accident. “Gaftsh,” she said, blowing out some of her epiglottis.

“This zombie is one of our party,” Irene told the witch. She was determined to do the right thing, though she didn’t enjoy it. “She will have to come, too.”

“How will she travel?” Xanthippe asked. “That hippogryph moves fast; only the centaur will be able to keep the pace, even if Xap keeps to the ground.”

“So she’ll ride the gryph, old snot,” Grundy said.

“Aw, Maw, Xap don’t want to carry a living corpse!” Xavier protested.

But the notion of actually getting the seeds had captured Xanthippe’s imagination. “Good enough,” the witch decided. “The gryph can handle one more. Bring me back my feather and seeds, and I’ll free your brat from my thyme.” She touched the shackle on Chem’s foot and it fell open, freeing the centaur. Then she opened Grundy’s cage similarly.

“Which three seeds do you want?” Irene inquired as she and Grundy mounted Chem.

“The seeds of Doubt, Dissension, and War,” the old witch said with gusto.

“Doubt, Dis—” Irene started, shocked. “You can’t possibly mean—” “You do want your daughter back?” Xanthippe inquired with a wrinkled smirk.

Chem trotted across to lift Zora up behind Xavier. Neither man nor steed seemed enthusiastic about this companion, but the witch glared them both quiescent. Irene hoped the zombie could ride well enough to stay on.

The hippogryph took off, literally. He spread his wings and launched into the air. Zora started to slide off, but flung her rotten arms around Xavier and kept her seat—though possibly part of that did fall off. Irene twitched an inward smile, wondering how the golden young man was reacting to this embrace.

Chem moved out, trotting to follow below the hippogryph. “See you later, old heifer!” Grundy called back to Xanthippe.

Xap spiraled up at an angle, his wings spreading hugely, their beat so strong that the ascent was steep, despite the considerable mass of the animal and two riders. The flight was magic-assisted, of course; such a creature could never get off the ground in Mundania.

Chem had to break into a canter to stay in range. “That’s one healthy animal!” she said, obviously impressed.

Irene had to agree. The witch might be a shrill and ruthless hag, and her son a muscular dunce, but the hippogryph was a phenomenal specimen of its kind. Burdened by the weight of two people, it nevertheless sailed up as if carrying no weight at all. Griffins were impressive, but the hippogryph was more impressive because it had the body mass of a horse, rather than that of a lion.

Then Xap got his bearings and glided southeast. Chem followed, varying her route to pick up decent running terrain. “Did you catch the significance of Zora’s find?” she asked as she ran.

“A dumb fish scale?” Grundy demanded slightingly. “Trust a creature whose brain is sludge to think that’s worth anything!”

“A small, bright dragon scale,” the centaur corrected him. “Zora’s brain
must be fairly high-quality sludge, for she recognized what was important. I am something of a scholar in the fauna of Xanth, so I know the different types of scales by sight. That variety is unique to the Gap Dragon, but it is too small. So it must be from the rejuvenated dragon.”

“Who is with Ivy!” Irene exclaimed, suddenly making the connection.

“Did Zora find them?”

“She must have found evidence of their passage, at least,” Chem said. “That’s why she brought the scale to you. She was trying to say ‘Gap.’ I was hoping the witch wouldn’t catch on.”

Grundy clapped his tiny hand to his forehead. “So she was! I heard it and didn’t notice!”

“If we fail in this quest and survive, Zora can still help us rescue Ivy, maybe!” Irene said, greatly relieved.

“So it would seem,” Chem agreed. “But let’s do our best anyway. We have made a commitment, and Ivy’s trail may not be easy to pick up, even with that hint—and I really would like to meet the Simurgh.”

“But those seeds! Doubt, Dissension, War! How could I deliver that sort of mischief to a person like that? Think of the harm she might do with them!”

“I don’t have the answer,” the centaur admitted. “I think we shall simply have to let events take their course.”

Irene nodded reluctant agreement. She had consented to fetch the seeds for Xanthippe, and she always honored her agreements, even when she regretted them. Her father King Trent had taught her the importance of that.

I
vy was a little Sorceress, though not yet recognized as such. Her magic talent was one of the select few that extended beyond the normal limits and had ramifications that would not have been credible anywhere except in Xanth. This was the gift of the Demon X(AN)
^th
, whose enormous magic permeated the Land of Xanth, though the Demon had no interest in the affairs of Xanth. At the behest of Chem’s mother Cherie Centaur, the Demon had bequeathed to the descendants of Bink and his wife Chameleon the status of Magicians. Thus, their son Dor was a Magician, destined from birth to become King of Xanth, and their granddaughter Ivy was another, similarly destined. However, the Demon had not bothered to inform anyone of this, allowing each person to find out in due course.

Throughout the volatile history of Xanth, it had always been awkward to mess with Magicians. The hag Xanthippe should have realized this, but she was out of touch with events and did not know with whom she was messing; she would surely pay a price.

Ivy had been trapped by the thyme and held helpless by its timelessness. There were only three ways to escape this trap: to suffer a general holocaust that destroyed the entire region, to be freed by the witch, or to wait for the century plant to bloom. The holocaust was not advisable, for it would destroy Ivy and Stanley, along with the thyme and much of the rest of Xanth and part of Mundania, too. As for the witch, she was not about to free the child before obtaining one feather and three potent seeds, so that wasn’t a worthwhile prospect either, because the chances of her obtaining those artifacts were small. And the century plant still had ninety-three years to go before it bloomed.

But Ivy was a Sorceress, which was a sexist definition of a female Magician. Her power was her ability to intensify the qualities of things about her. Thus, though she was ensorcelled by the thyme, she also acted upon it in her curious fashion. The timelessness of thyme became concentrated to an extraordinary degree—and this affected the century plant in which it rested. The century plant thought it was aging at the rate of fifty-two weeks per year, give or take a day or so; or, failing that, at twelve
months per year. But the intensification of time near the thyme warped and curved the environment in a manner that possibly only a brilliant Mundane expert might theorize about, and now the century plant was actually aging at the rate of one year per minute.

Thus, in just ninety-three minutes from the time Ivy touched the thyme and fell into its power, the thyme fell into her power. The century plant completed its cycle and bloomed. It shot up a central stalk which branched and flowered. The stalk sprouted right under the thyme, for that was the center of the plant. The witch had put the thyme there because she knew it would not be disturbed for a hundred years, by which time she would no longer be concerned with it—and indeed, it had been all right for the first seven years. Thyme was very important to a person as old as Xanthippe.

Now the flower-stalk ascended, carrying the thyme up with it. The stalk didn’t bother with the entranced girl and dragon, who were extraneous to its design. Thus, in due course, the contact between thyme, girl, and dragon was broken. It was a small thyme plant, and its range was limited; this was perhaps fortunate, for otherwise all of Xanth and a smidgeon of Mundania would have experienced the acceleration of time, and that would have been a complication of another nature. When the contact ceased, so did the spell of timelessness.