Dragon on a Pedestal (28 page)

“Yes,” Hugo said. “I dumped Fountain of Youth water on him, and now he’s a baby Dragon. He’s our friend now. I guess babies are nicer than monsters.”

“That must be true,” Glory agreed. “My people have always been nervous about your human kind, the full-sized folk, but you children seem very nice.” She chewed some more fruit.

“I guess everyone’s nice, if you know the person,” Ivy said. “I like just about everything I meet, except maybe some clouds.”

“Some clouds can be bothersome, especially the ones that rain on my hairdo,” Glory agreed. “You must have been raised in a loving household.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

The goblin girl made her sad, peek-ant smile again. “Alas, no. My father is ugly and vicious, like most goblin males, and my mother was always afraid of him. Oh, I’m not saying Gorbage is a bad man; he
is
after all, my father. It’s just his way. You see, though we goblin girls now prefer handsome and gentle men, they aren’t very good fighters, and so they don’t survive very well in our region. Gorbage is chief because he is violent and ruthless and tougher than other goblin men. He has been a good provider, but he just doesn’t understand love. When my older sister Goldy came of age, Gorbage made a party of creatures escort her to the northern goblin tribes so she could trap a husband.”

“But a pretty girl doesn’t have to trap a man!” Ivy protested. “Not one as pretty as you.”

“In Goblin-Land she does, unfortunately. That’s part of what dismays me about it. And Goldy is not as pretty as I am, so it was that much harder for her.”

“How could Gorbage make other creatures escort a goblin girl?” Hugo asked.

“He threatened to eat them if they didn’t. He would have, too. One was an ogre, but the ogre had just fought the Gap Dragon—”

Stanley perked up again, interested, though it was evident he didn’t remember this. Ivy wasn’t certain whether this was because he had lost most of his memory when he lost his age, or whether the Gap Dragon had fought so many other monsters that he simply couldn’t remember this particular spat.

“And the ogre had just climbed out of the Gap, lifting out a centaur, and was very tired, so he couldn’t fight. That’s a very rare state for ogres.”

“But ogres eat people, too!” Hugo objected. “And they eat goblins and monsters and trees and dirt and everything! He should have gobbled up a tasty goblin girl.”

“This was a funny ogre. He was with five assorted young females, so Gorbage figured if the brute hadn’t eaten them, maybe he wouldn’t eat Goldy either. It seemed like a good risk. No worse than going into battle or harvesting tentacles from a tangle tree. My father is very practical. He sent my sister with them, and it worked, because later we had news through the grapevine that—”

“My mother grows neat grapevines,” Ivy said. “Some of them reach right to the top of the castle, and we talk to the grapes at each end, and the sound travels back and forth just perfectly.”

“Yes, of course,” Glory agreed, slightly annoyed by the frequent interruptions. “We have vines that grow well into Dragon-Land, and from there they connect to some of the northern vines, but often there is no complete
connection because somewhere along the way some dragon has scorched out a section. Anyway, we learned that Goldy had snared a northern goblin chief and was moderately satisfied. That’s how most goblins marry. But I am too romantic for my own good. My sister is tough; she’s always able to do what is necessary. Not I; I am more a creature of fantasy. So when it came my turn to marry—” She broke off, grimacing, and such was her beauty that even that expression was impossibly cute. “I fell in love with a male who conformed more perfectly to my ideals.”

“The harpy,” Hugo said, showing his intelligence.

“Hardy Harpy,” she said. “I was sitting one evening, dangling my feet over the brink of the Gap Chasm and thinking my silly thoughts, when I saw this bird flying down below me. Only it wasn’t a bird, it was a harpy, and I was afraid because those harpy hens have the foulest mouths you ever heard. I put my hand on my knife in case it should attack me and I got ready to scream. I hiked up my skirt so I could run, but there was something different about this one. I couldn’t smell the normally foul odor, so I lingered longer than I should have and suddenly realized that this harpy was young and clean and male. I had never seen a male harpy before. They remain rare and they don’t go out much to mix with other creatures. I was so amazed I just waited there, marveling, my skirt held high.”

She hiked her skirt a little to illustrate. Her legs were astonishingly shapely. “And he came and perched beside me and told me what pretty legs I had, so of course I didn’t run away then. Goblin men’s legs aren’t pretty—they’re all black and knobby and warped—and harpy hens’ legs are even worse. I can certainly see how a harpy cock would be turned off by a harpy hen’s claws. And he spoke the truth about my legs.” She glanced down at them appreciatively, as well she might.

“But weren’t
his
legs bird legs?’ Ivy asked.

“Yes, of course. But males don’t need nice legs. He had such lovely wings, and a handsome face and manly chest. And he spoke with such gentleness and intelligence.” She shrugged. “After that, he came to see me often, there at the brink of the Chasm, and in due course we fell in—”

“But didn’t you get hurt?” Ivy asked, horrified. “The Gap’s so deep—”

“Fell in love,” the goblin girl continued blithely. “Oh, we knew it was wrong, for goblins and harpies are at war, and the war had started centuries ago because of just such liaisons as this. But we were so
right
for each other, we simply couldn’t help it. We wanted to marry, but we knew we couldn’t as long as I was bound to my tribe; the goblins would tar and defeather Hardy and then start mistreating him. So we could do nothing—and meanwhile, my father was looking for a way to get me north so I could snag a goblin chief and live in moderate declining satisfaction, like my sister. I knew I had to escape. Then the Gap Dragon left—and here I am,
across the Gap, looking for my beloved. I hope I find him soon! If I do, then that will be the happy ending I promised we might have to this story.”

“But the jungle is so big!” Ivy pointed out. “How can you ever find him? Xanth is so huge!”

“So I have discovered,” Glory agreed. “My legs were made for looking at, not for all this walking! Hardy doesn’t even know I’m coming; I just hurried across, not knowing how long the dragon would be gone.”

“But if he doesn’t know,” Hugo said, “and you don’t know where he is—”

“He said he lives near the mouth organ, so I am looking for that, but I fear I am lost. I can’t find it anywhere and I’ve searched interminably.”

That sounded like a very long time indeed. “What’s a mouth organ?” Ivy asked.

Glory blushed prettily. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, and I hesitate to guess. But I’ve got to find it.”

“Hugo can figure it out,” Ivy said. “He’s smart!”

Hugo, put on the spot, cudgeled his memory. “My father has books of pictures of things—monsters and plants—and I think there was one of a mouth organ. It’s a big plant or animal or something, and it plays big, low notes you can hear for hours away.”

“Then we can hear it!” Ivy said excitedly. “We can find it for Glory!”

“If we’re close enough, and if it’s playing,” Hugo said.

“Let’s listen!”

They listened, but heard no notes of any size.

Ivy refused to be discouraged. “Stanley can hear it!” she declared. “He’s got good dragon ears!” She turned to the little dragon. “Tune in to the mouth organ, Stanley. Show us where it is.”

But Stanley wasn’t paying attention. He was sniffing the air as if trying to identify something odd.

“Hey, Stanley!” Ivy repeated imperiously. “Listen for the mouth organ!”

The little dragon perked up his ears and swiveled them about. It was evident that he had not considered tuning in on something this way before, but Ivy’s presence and need made it feasible. Soon he caught a whiff of some sort of sound and pointed his snout at it, east.

“See? I told you he could do it!” Ivy said. “Now we’ll find it for you, and everything will be just fine!”

“I certainly hope you are correct,” Glory said uncertainly. “I just
have
to find Hardy!”

They walked east, over hill and dale, avoiding tangle trees and such. It was a fair distance, so they paused every so often to rest and snack. The sun was now high in the sky, trying to peer down to see what they were doing.

In due course, they could hear the organ themselves: ponderous, vibrating, authoritative notes that shook the very jungle with their power.

“It does sound big,” Ivy said, and pressed eagerly on.

They rounded a large old tree and almost stumbled over a boy eating a bowl of polka-dot custard pudding. Startled, the boy jumped up, spilling his custard. The dots skidded around and rolled away, glad to escape the fate intended for them.

The boy was absolutely furious. His hair changed from yellow to raging red. “You—” he expostulated, and changed into a huge, hairy spider covered in red fuzz that was darkening to black. “Made,” the spider chittered, and became a scraggly faun with black horns and hooves turning green. “Me,” the faun cried, and coverted to a man with the green head of a snake. “Sspilll,” the snake-head hissed, turning brown, and became a small, tan griffin. “My,” the griffin squawked, and reddened into a raging ball of fire. “Lunch!” the fire roared, and yellow flames flared high. Oh, this thing was angry!

Hugo happened to be in the lead, so he took the main heat. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you. I can conjure you some nice fruit to eat instead—” He conjured a huge and pretty pomegranate and held it out.

The fire shaped back into the boy. “You offer a lutin mere fruit, you cretin?” he demanded, dashing it from Hugo’s hand. He changed into a monstrous moth, hovering angrily. “I’ll see you cocooned for this!” the moth fluttered. “I’ll drive you to the flame! I’ll punish all of you!”

“Oh, I love puns,” Ivy said. “Pun-ish me first!”

“Stifle it in cotton, you brat!” the moth bawled, turning white. “I’ll fix you! You shall never see Xanth again!”

“But we’re
in
Xanth!” Hugo protested weakly.

“You shall be blind!” The moth vanished, and a monstrous eyeball replaced it. The eye was white, with ferocious blue veins crawling around it and a blazing red pupil at the front. From that pupil came a pale yellow mist, forming an expanding cloud. “Blind, blind, blind!” the eye repeated, speaking through the pupil.

“Do something!” Ivy cried, alarmed.

Glory drew her knife and stepped toward the eye.

“No, not you!” Ivy cried. “The mist will get you first!”

Stanley whomped forward, blowing steam. “Not you either!” Ivy gasped, catching hold of his tail to hold him back. “I don’t want you to be blind! I mean Hugo!”

“Gee, thanks!” Hugo said, appalled. “I don’t want to be blind either!”

“Conjure some fruit that will save us!”

“Oh. Yes.” He conjured a pineapple.

“No, dummy! That will spread the yellow all around! Some other way!”

Hugo did not seem to react with the same pleasure to the endearment as she had. “But I can’t—”

“Yes you can!” Ivy insisted.

The yellow was looming awfully. Hugo concentrated—and had an inspiration. A gourd-fruit appeared in his hands. “Look at this, lutin!” he cried, shoving it at the floating eyeball.

The eye looked, involuntarily, for that was its nature—and saw the peephole, and froze where it was, in midair. The yellow mist dissipated harmlessly.

Hugo set the gourd down carefully, and the eye tilted its gaze to watch its descent.

“What is that?” Glory asked, perplexed.

“A hypnogourd,” Hugo said. “It’s a sort of fruit, so I can conjure it, but this is the first I ever got right. I aimed the peephole at the lutin.”

Glory laughed, relieved. “Of course! We have whole patches of such gourds in Goblin-Land. I just didn’t recognize it out of context. What a clever way to nullify the eye monster!”

“What’s a hypnogourd?” Ivy asked. She was only three years old and had seen a great many plants, but for some reason, her mother had never grown one of the gourd plants for her, so her education was not yet quite complete.

“It’s a gourd with a peephole,” Glory explained. “I should have recognized it instantly. Anyone who peeks in the hole is hypnotized, until someone moves the gourd away or cuts off his line of sight. It’s a good, fairly harmless way to restrain a violent creature, though it isn’t wise to leave anyone hypnotized too long, if you don’t want it to be permanent.”

“Let’s get out of here before something happens to free the lutin,” Hugo said nervously. “A leaf could fall and cover the peephole, or an animal could roll the gourd over. He’ll be awful mad when he gets free.”

The others agreed. They had never before encountered such a bad temper as that shown by this magical creature. They hurried on, leaving the veined eye and the gourd behind.

“I thought each person had only one magic talent,” Ivy remarked thoughtfully.

“They do, dear,” Glory said. “Goblins don’t even have one such talent.” “But that lutin could change shape and do magic—he was going to blind us.”

“That’s right!” Hugo agreed. “How could he do that?”

“Maybe he was bluffing about the blindness,” Glory said uncertainly.

“He sure didn’t sound as if he were bluffing,” Hugo said. “He might have had some kind of herb, or maybe some juice from a blindworm, to make us blind.”

“Anyway, I’m glad you stopped him, Hugo,” Glory said. “That was most intelligent, and you have a very useful talent.”

Hugo flushed with guilty pleasure. He wasn’t used to such compliments, especially from anyone as pretty as the goblin girl.

The organ notes became louder, until their booming was fairly deafening. There were many tones audible now, low ones and high ones, weaving in and out and around and through each other, forming a tapestry of sound. The effect was oddly moving, stirring subterranean emotions of pleasure, worry, and guilt. It was amazing what sheer sound could do.

“I wonder whether it knows how to play romantic music,” Glory murmured.