Golem in the Gears (3 page)

Grundy still didn't like this. But he was aware of two things: first, he really had no choice, as he could not otherwise get in to see the Good Magician, and second, he was a pretty good player of lines and boxes. He could probably win. "I agree," he said.

"Excellent!" the ant lion said heartily. It leaped sud- denly into the air and came down with its six legs straight. It was a fairly massive creature, so each leg sank into the dirt as it landed. It stepped out of its tracks, and six neat depressions remained. Then it jumped again, this time landing a little to the side. The three right legs landed in the dents left by the three left legs before, and the three left legs made three new dents.

The monster stepped carefully back. There before it was a neat pattern of nine dents, forming a large square with one dent in the center. "There is the board," it announced.

"That's only enough for four boxes!" Grundy pro- tested.

The ant lion extended a claw and contemplated it. "So?"

Grundy decided not to protest further. A small game was the same as a big one in principle, after all, and he did have the first move. He stepped up and scratched a line with his foot between a comer dent and the center dent on his side.

The ant lion reached across and scraped another line, from Grundy's center dot to the other corner dot. One side of the figure was complete.

Grundy drew a line from a near comer up to connect

to the middle dot on that side. The ant lion made another, completing that side. Grundy drew one along the side closest to the ant lion, and the ant lion completed this one also. Then they each put a line in the fourth side. Now the figure was a large box—and Grundy realized he was in trouble.

 
He had no choice now but to draw a line from the center dot to one of the sides. That would set things up for his opponent to complete a box with his line, and then use his extra turn to complete another box, and so on through the figure, winning. He had been trapped into a game he couldn't win.

"Move—or forfeit," the ant lion said with satisfaction. Grundy sighed and moved. Whereupon the ant lion did exactly as expected, filling in all four boxes and marking his neat letter A's in each. Grundy had lost badly.

you the advantage of the first move every time, and I am a creature of my word."

"But—"

The monster extended another claw and studied it sig- nificantly. Grundy realized that he had to accept this gen- erosity.

What was he to do? The advantage clearly lay with the second player—and that advantage was going to get him consumed by the monster!

Then Grundy remembered something. There just might be a way! He had not played such small games before, but the principle should hold. The key was in the fact that a player did not have to complete a box if he did not want to, provided he was able to make some other move instead. That seemed like a losing strategy, so it was seldom employed, but it had its points. He would use it here.

They started the second game of their appointed three. Grundy started exactly as he had before, and the ant lion continued as before. They completed two sides of the outer square. Then Grundy made his surprise move: he drew a line to the center.

its bonus line in the opposite side, to avoid giving Grundy a similar gift. Grundy filled in the last free spot. Now the diagram looked like this:

to fill in the last available free space. It didn't matter which player took the box and the bonus line; that extra line shifted the advantage to the first player. The configuration now was this:

A

G

The ant lion got ready to draw his line—and paused. There was nowhere he could move, without setting Grundy up for three boxes and victory. "I'll be cursed!" it exclaimed. "You set me up!"

"Merely playing the game to win," Grundy replied

modestly.

With imperfect grace, the ant lion drew a line at the edge, and Grundy filled in the rest, marking G's in three boxes.

G
    
G G
     
A

The score stood at one victory each. The ant lion was very thoughtful as they commenced the deciding game. This one started as the others had, but when Grundy offered the sacrifice box, the other declined it, choosing instead to continue around the rim. Now Grundy was nervous; could this force the win back to the ant lion?

Then Grundy saw the other side of the key. He moved in and took the first box himself, and used his bonus line

The ant lion stared at it for a long time. Finally it shrugged, and filled in a line. Grundy filled in the remain- ing three boxes.

"I learned something today," the ant lion said philo- sophically. "The ploy of the proffered box, which is dis- aster whether accepted or declined. I congratulate you, Golem; you have proved yourself to be smart enough to pass." And the monster stood aside and allowed Grundy to enter the castle.

Grundy's little knees were weak. In retrospect he real- ized that the Good Magician had surely known about the way to reverse the game, so that it represented a fair test of ingenuity. But how close he had come to failing the test!

Now he walked through another gate, and there was the veiled Gorgon. "What kept you, Grundy?" she inquired solicitously.

Grundy didn't have it in him to make a smart reply. "I just want to see the Magician."

"By all means. But be careful; he's grumpy today."

She ushered him into the Good Magician's office. Humfrey was perched on his high stool, poring over a monstrous tome. That was par for the course. He was

now about twelve years old, physically, having recovered that far from the overdose of Youth Elixir he had suffered five years before.

"Magician, I need advice on—" Grundy began.

"Go away," Humfrey grumped.

"I just want to—"

"One year's service—in advance."

This was of course standard procedure for the Good Magician. But Grundy had been shaken by the experience with the ant lion, and his natural manner of expressing himself surged to the fore. "Listen, you rejuvenated freak! You're such an idiot you've missed the obvious for five years! You can be any age you want to, anytime. I can give you back a century of your life, with one sentence. Then you'll owe me a hundred Answers!"

This got the Good Magician's full attention. "Prove it."

"All you have to do is dunk a stick of reverse-wood in a cup of Youth Elixir. Then it will—"

"Become Age Elixir!" Humfrey finished, amazed. "Now why didn't / think of that?"

"Because you're an—"

"I heard. Very well, Golem—you've earned your Answer. Ask your Question."

"I've earned all the Answers I want!" Grundy exclaimed.

"No. You have done me one service that I may exploit to my satisfaction. How many years I use it for does not relate; it is your year that counts. Ask."

Grundy realized that the Good Magician, like the ant lion, was a creature of no compromise. At least he had what he wanted.

"How can I find and rescue Stanley Steamer?"

"Oho! You're doing something about that!" Humfrey

glanced at his open book. "It says you must ride the Monster Under the Bed to the Ivory Tower."

"You mean you had it open to the place all the time?" Grundy demanded indignantly.

"Is that another Question?"

Grundy ground his teeth. The Good Magician didn't give anything away for nothing, unless the visitor was a Magician. "At least tell me where the Ivory Tower is!"

"Do you want to pay your year's service before or after I give you that Answer?"

"You gnomish cheapskate!" Grundy raged. "I just gave you back your age, hardly a minute ago!"

Humfrey's lips quirked. "And what have you done for me lately, Golem?"

Grundy stormed out of the room. The Good Magician hardly noticed; he was back poring over his tome.

Chapter 2. Snortimer

Back at Castle Roogna, Grundy remained dis- gruntled. He had belatedly realized that the Good Magi- cian hadn't even told him that Stanley Steamer was at the Ivory Tower; he had just said to ride the monster there. Who could guess what complications would manifest at that point? On the other hand, Humfrey also hadn't said that the Quest was useless. He might not know for sure

whether Stanley was alive, but at least he had enabled

Grundy to find out.

First he had to explain things to Ivy. He suspected that

would not be easy—and he was correct.

"You want to take Snortimer?!" she demanded indig- nantly. "He's my monster!"

"But all you do is ignore him or tease him," Grundy

pointed out.

"That's beside the point," she said, assuming her Little

Lady manner. "He belongs under my bed, nowhere else."

"But the Good Magician says I have to ride the Monster Under the Bed to the Ivory Tower, and he's the only Monster Under the Bed I know well enough to ask."

"The Ivory Tower?" she asked with a mercurial shift of mood. "That's where Rapunzel lives!"

Grundy hadn't thought of that. Rapunzel was Ivy's pun-pal, who sent her periodic boxes of puns in exchange for the mundane scraps Ivy sent; It had always seemed to Grundy that Ivy had much the best of the bargain, and he wondered why Rapunzel continued with the arrange- ment. But what could Rapunzel have to do with the miss- ing dragon? Surely she would have notified Ivy if Stanley

had turned up there!

But he decided it was better not to raise such issues with Ivy; no good could come of it. "Do you want Stanley back or don't you?" Grundy demanded gruffly.

"Oh, pooh!" she said. "Go do it, then. But if anything happens to Snortimer, I'll never forgive you!"

So Grundy went to talk to Snortimer, the Monster Under Ivy's Bed. Such monsters were an interesting species, because only children and credulous folk could see them at all; normal adults didn't even believe in them. Since Grundy was small, he had no trouble perceiving the mon- ster—and because he was small, he had always stayed

well out of reach. Now, with some trepidation, he approached Snortimer's lair.

"Snortimer," he called from a safe distance.

Something twitched in the dusky recesses beneath the bunk.

"Snortimer, I know you understand me," Grundy called. "I'm speaking your language. Come out from under there;

I need your help."

A big, hairy hand poked out from the deep shadow, as if questing for something to grab. That was of course the speciality of the species: grabbing children's ankles. Some mean children would dangle their feet down and snatch them away just before getting grabbed, but most children were properly terrified.

"Listen, Snortimer, I have a Quest. I need your help."

At last the monster spoke. "Why should I help you?"

" 'Cause the Good Magician says I have to ride you to the Ivory Tower to rescue Stanley."

Snortimer considered. "It'll cost you, golem."

Grundy sighed. He should have known that nothing about this Quest would be easy. "What will it cost?"

"I want romance."

"What?"

"I've been eight years under this bed, grabbing at Ivy's ankles and hiding from her mother. The same old grind, day after day. There must be more to life than this!"

"But that's what Monsters Under the Bed do!" Grundy protested. "They have no other purpose than to grab at children's ankles and hide from parents."

"Then why am I supposed to help you?"

Snortimer had a point. Obviously there was more to such a monster's life than ankles. "Um,just what do you mean by romance?"

"I don't know. But I'll know it when I find it."

"Why don't you just crawl off to another bed and find a, uh, female of your species, and—?"

"That isn't how it's done. No Bed Monster shares ter- ritory. I have to find someone who isn't yet committed to a bed."

"Where would that be?"

The big ugly hand made a gesture of ignorance. "I have no idea. I suppose I just have to travel about until some- where I find her."

"Well, I plan to travel," Grundy said. "If you will be my steed, you'd get to cover quite a bit of the country."

"Sounds good," Snoitimer agreed. "I'll be your steed— but only till I find romance."

Grundy realized that that could get him stranded some- where far away, perhaps in the midst of Uncommitted Monster Country. But half a loaf was better than none. "Agreed. Let's start right away. Come on out of there."

"I can't," Snortimer said.

"But you said—"

"I said I'd be your steed; I didn't say I'd do the impos- sible. I can't come out until dark."

"But I was planning on traveling in the daytime!"

"Not with me, you're not! Light would destroy me instantly. Why do you think we Bed Monsters never climb up on top of the bed to grab at ankles? We're confined to the deepest shadows." He pondered a moment. "Which is unfortunate. There's a lot more than ankles up there."