Dragon on a Pedestal (31 page)

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Authors: Piers Anthony

BOOK: Dragon on a Pedestal
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Hearing that, Irene became even more eager to recover her daughter quickly. She didn’t like taking chances either.

As they progressed, the references became more specific. It seemed that the Cyclops hunted only at night, but he was a terror then.

Either Ivy had escaped the Cyclops and was safe from pursuit while day remained, or she was still in the cave, perhaps trapped there. There was no
separate news of her or of Hugo, to the Gorgon’s disappointment. She looked worried under her veil. She did not have the assurance of an ivy plant that her son was healthy; and, considering Hugo’s general backwardness and lack of an effective magical talent, Irene could appreciate her concern.

Then there was something new. Grundy paused. “I didn’t know there was a mouth organ in these parts!”

“Mouth organ?” Irene asked.

“That’s a natural musical instrument,” Chem explained. “Part plant, part animal, part mineral. It has many mouths that sound separate notes. It’s a rare thing, but it does occur in scattered locations and can attain considerable size. It is said to be very impressive. When it spawns, the little mouth organs can be plucked and played by hand, as they aren’t big enough to generate their own wind. But handling stunts their growth, so few make it to maturity.”

“It’s hard to be a success if you’re a plaything,” Grundy agreed.

Irene cocked her head. Now she heard it, faintly, as from a fair distance to the east—deep, powerful, sustained notes, decorated by a pleasant, higher melody. “This one sounds mature,” she said shortly. “Very nice. Some day we must visit it. But at the moment we have a more urgent mission.”

“I’m not sure,” Grundy said. “The organ is speaking, musically, and I can understand it because of its animate portion. It says there are goblins in the area.”

“Goblins?” Chem asked. “That’s unlikely. All the major tribes of goblins settled north of the Gap Chasm. There might be a few stragglers south, but not enough to cause any problems.”

“The organ says a war party is here,” the golem insisted. “It says that yesterday the goblins captured a male harpy, in the course of their raid into harpy territory. They were going to execute him.”

“A male harpy—executed?” Chem asked. “That will instantly inflame the whole harpy species! They have very few males and they value them inordinately.”

Now Irene took notice. “Goblins on the warpath—here? Ivy could run into them! What else does the organ say?”

“Nothing much. It’s just alerting the harpies—that male hasn’t been seen since last night—so they can form a battle wing and wipe out the goblins. There will be war, very soon.”

“That’s all we need!” the Gorgon said. “A resurgence of the old goblin-harpy war! My husband has texts delineating the atrocities of their ancient wars; Xanth is much gentler today.”

“The Gap Chasm kept them apart for centuries,” Chem said. “There are several bridges across it, but they are guarded by human folk who wouldn’t
let goblins pass. One of the bridges is one-way, so the goblins couldn’t pass it anyway, and another is invisible, so they couldn’t find it. The only practical way they could cross is
through
the Gap, and of course the Gap Dragon—” She paused, a bulb flashing.
“That’s
what the dragon did! It stopped the goblins from crossing, so as to preserve peace in Xanth! The goblin-harpy wars were the worst calamities in Xanth, apart from the Mundane Waves of conquest—and the Gap Dragon helped inhibit those, too! I’m sure it was no accident that Castle Roogna was built south of the Gap, and that most of the civilized settlements of men and centaurs were also south. Perhaps we owe, in this peculiar fashion, the survival of civilization in Xanth to the Gap Dragon!”

“So there was excellent reason for the Good Magician to spare the Gap Dragon, even if it was rampaging,” Irene agreed, awed by the revelation. That was the last monster she would have expected to owe anything to.

“There is good reason for anything Humfrey does,” the Gorgon said seriously. “He always did know what he was doing, no matter what others thought.”

“He always did,” Irene agreed. “But now the forget-spell is off the Gap, the dragon is gone, Humfrey can not act, and the ancient mischief is returning. We’re in more trouble than we knew.”

“King Dor will certainly have to act to nullify the goblins,” Chem said. “But for the moment, this merely makes our mission more urgent. We must rescue the children quickly! There’s no telling what will happen if they fall into goblin hands!”

They hurried on toward the Cyclops’ cave.

Before very long, there was a raucous screech from the sky. Great ugly bird-shapes appeared. “Goblins! Destroy them!” an unlovely female voice screeched.

Great, gross harpies converged, descending from the sky, filthy talons extended. There were twelve or fifteen of them. Chem’s bow was in her hands, but she withheld her shot, knowing that if she killed one dirty hen, the others would tear the whole party to bits. The Gorgon put her hand on her veil;
she
could deal with them all, if she had to.

“We’re not goblins!” Irene cried, desperately trying reason before combat.

The leader-harpy hovered before them, peering. She had a hideous and filthy face, dangling, lumpy breasts, soiled tail feathers, and a nauseating odor. She was about as repulsive as a creature could get, not so much for her shape as for her lack of hygiene and her bad nature. “Why, so you’re not!” the harpy screeched. “You made us waste all this effort for nothing! We’d better tear you apart anyway!”

“Let me talk to them,” Chem said. “Be ready, Gorgon; we may still need you.”

The Gorgon nodded, keeping one hand on her veil, ready to jerk it aside and glare about.

“Listen to me,” Chem told the harpy leader. “We aren’t goblins and we are not involved with them. We have no quarrel with you—but we do have power to defend ourselves, if you force the issue. Leave us alone and we shall leave you alone.”

The harpies hovered in air made foul by their presence. The stench was assuming an awful intensity. “You can defend yourselves?” the leader screeched. “Prove it!”

“You wouldn’t like that,” Chem said warningly.

“You’re bluffing!” the harpy screeched. No harpy seemed to have any voice other than the screech; too much of this conversation would give a person a headache.

“This woman is the Gorgon,” the centaur said evenly. “One glance at her bare face will turn a person to stone.”

“I don’t believe it!” the harpy screeched. “Hatty, rip that rag off her face, then pluck out her eyeballs!”

A harpy lunged forward, spraying out small, soiled feathers in her eagerness to get at the eyeball tidbits. Irene kept her eyes on the harpy, not the Gorgon, as did the others of her party. She was aware, peripherally, of the Gorgon making a slight motion.

Then the harpy, Hatty, stopped in midair and dropped like a stone. This was only natural; she had become a stone. The Gorgon replaced her veil.

The other harpies flew down to look at their fallen comrade. Hatty was now an ugly statue that looked as if it had been too long under pigeons. Her calcified eyes gazed out in blind contempt, and her thin-lipped mouth was fixed in a perpetual scowl. Even a small drool of dirty spittle had frozen to stone on her lip.

“She’s petrified!” a harpy screeched.

“Completely stoned,” Grundy agreed. “You dirty birds can’t say we didn’t warn you.”

“And who the smut are you, runt?” the leader screeched.

“I’m Grundy the Golem,” Grundy said proudly. “I can talk to any living thing, even your kind, you nauseating hen, though I have to hold my nose. Who the upchuck are you?”

“I’m Haggy Harpy, leader of this motley flock,” the harpy screeched. “We’re looking for goblins. Who are those others?”

Again, Irene was cautious about identifying herself completely. “I’m Irene. I grow plants.”

“And I’m Chem,” the centaur said. “I make maps.”

Haggy hovered, pondering, while her flapping wings wafted the smell of her past them. “Stoning—talking—planting—mapping,” she screeched, totaling it up. “A pretty collection of talents. You creatures are lucky; not everyone has magic.” She rotated to address the others. “Hannah, execute plan SA,” she said. Then she spun in air back to Irene. “What are you doing out here in harpy territory?”

“I’m looking for my lost child,” Irene said. “A girl, three years old. Have you seen her?”

“Anybody seen her brat?” Haggy screeched to the other harpies, who were milling about in some private pattern that continually wafted their foul odor past the party on the ground. Irene hoped she could keep from gagging.

There was a discordant response. No one had seen any lost human child.

“SSAAA!” Hanna Harpy screeched. Suddenly the harpies swooped in, acting together. Two carried a bag, which they dropped over the Gorgon’s head before the Gorgon could get her hand back up to her veil. Others carried vine-cords, which they wrapped around the others. The action was so quick and treacherous that Chem did not have time to raise her bow.

“Grow!” Irene cried desperately at any plant in range. The grass under Chem’s hooves shot up, and nearby trees put on new foliage, but there was nothing to interfere with the harpies. Naturally the confined seeds in the bag did not grow; that would have been a worse disaster than the harpies! In a moment all four of them were captive.

“Plan SA: Sneak Attack,” Grundy said disgustedly. “I should have realized.”

Irene cursed herself for the same oversight. Goblins and harpies were creatures largely without honor; she knew that. It had been folly to relax.

“Why did you dirty birds do that?” Grundy demanded of the harpies. “We did nothing to you, except for when Hatty forced the issue, and we had given you fair warning about that. You can fix her bad as new by carrying her statue out to Mundania, where the spell will be broken.”

“We don’t care about Hatty!” Hannah screeched. “Who cares about a harpy? We wanted you!”

“Because we can use your talents,” Haggy screeched, satisfied. “Now we can track down those goblins faster!”

“But—but you can’t just capture us and make us work for you!” Irene spluttered.

“Why can’t we?” Haggy screeched reasonably.

“For one thing, we’ll refuse to do your bidding,” Chem said, swishing her tail in irritation.

“No bidding, you old biddy!” Grundy agreed.

“Oh, will you now?” the harpy chieftainess screeched. “Well, then, we’ll just tear your stonemason friend to pieces, one piece at a time. We’re due for a meal anyway.” She turned in the air to face her subordinate hen. “Hannah, old cackle, let’s see how fast you can get the first arm off that creature. Don’t go near her hood!”

Hannah screeched with delight. “Hold her tight, hens! I don’t want her thrashing about while I’m at work. That would spill too much tasty blood. Maybe I’ll start with her gizzard; that’s easier to claw out!”

The other hens converged on the hooded and bound Gorgon, sinking their filthy talons into her limbs, securing her for the ordeal. Irene knew they weren’t bluffing; harpies really did like to tear flesh apart and cause anguish to feeling creatures.

“And fetch a basin,” Haggy screeched. “So we can have a blood bath afterward!”

Irene’s stomach tried to take flight like a harpy. No, they weren’t bluffing! “All right! We’ll cooperate.” Irene said quickly. “Don’t hurt her!”

Haggy Harpy screeched out a mind-rotting string of epithets. “Oh, you’re spoiling our fun! Can’t you wait until we’ve done with this one? She’s a fine, healthy specimen and I just know she’s got a lot of hot blood in her!”

“No, I can’t wait!” Irene cried, in her desperation sounding almost like a harpy herself. “Don’t touch her!”

“Oh, all right, spoilsport!” Haggy screeched. “I guess we can use her talent on the goblins as we planned. Hannah, you’ll have to wait.”

“Go suck eggs!” Hannah screeched back. She had been hovering, waiting for the others to secure the victim properly, exposing the Gorgon’s midriff for the gizzard operation. “I want blood!” She launched herself at the Gorgon, talons extended, mouth gaping with lust for gore.

“Don’t tell
me
to suck eggs, you bloated bag!” Haggy screeched, launching herself after her. She moved very swiftly; harpies had had many generations of experience snatching things, and could zip forward in the blink of a smudged eye.

The two collided in the air; Haggy lifted a claw and made such a swipe at the other that several greasy feathers were wrenched out of her tail assembly. Hannah spun out of control, sideswiped a tree, and landed on her back, her spindly chicken legs poking straight up. She screeched such an oath that the grass around her turned brown. Then she flipped over, and flapped up, leaving a smudge of discolor on the ground. She perched on a branch, shaking out loose feathers. Discipline had evidently been asserted in the normal harpy fashion.

“Now, this is what you’ll do,” Haggy screeched to Irene. “You’ll grow us some blood lilies and a pitcher plant of gall for us to snack on, and the
horse’s rear will show us a map so we can guess where the goblins are, and the imp—”

“I’m a golem, not an imp!” Grundy said.

“—will ask around for the goblins,” Haggy finished. “And if we don’t find them by nightfall, we’ll tear Stonestare up instead. That seems fair enough, don’t you agree? I’ll bet those little snakes on her head are mighty tasty morsels!”

Irene didn’t even ask whether the harpies would let the party go if they found the goblins. Harpies didn’t make positive promises, only threats. “You’ll have to free my hands so I can sort through my seeds,” she said. “I can’t grow what you want if I don’t have the seeds.”

“We’ll do it,” Haggy screeched. “But if you grow any wrong thing, your hooded friend will be gutted before you can do anything else, and we’ll make you drink the first blood.”

“Unfair!” Hannah screeched. “You promised
me
first blood!”

“Oh, all right. We’ll give you the blood, and stuff the first entrails into the captives’ mouths,” Haggy decided, being a fair-minded hen.

Horrified, Irene knew they had effectively prevented her from growing a tangle tree or anything else that would be useful against this awful flock. She opened the big bag of seeds and sifted through it, looking for the proper ones. She was in luck, for what that was worth; she found the items she needed. She dropped them to the ground. “Grow!”

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