Harpy Thyme (14 page)

“I think we've found his breath,” Cynthia gasped, her hair blowing out sideways from her head as if trying to flee the odor. “I'm losing control.” She glided erratically away. Fortunately she was able to recover somewhat as she got out of the wind; Gloha saw her gliding safely back down toward the forest.

Gloha nerved herself, held her neat little nose, and flew into the putrid breeze. She had a smaller nose than Cynthia did, so it didn't take in as much of the stench. When she banged into an invisible cable she grabbed onto it. This was a strand of the giant's hair. She worked her way down to an ear. “Hey, don't step on us!” she shouted. “We're coming to see Com-Pewter anyway!”

“OOOOGAA!” the giant responded deafeningly.

“Pump down the volume!” Gloha screamed.

“What did you say?” the giant whispered.

“I said that we're coming to see Com Pewter anyway,” she shouted. “So you shouldn't step on us.”

“Okay.” There was a stir as something huge moved. He was turning his head. “Say, you're a pretty little creature.”

“Thank you,” she gasped.

“But your nose is swollen.”

“That's because I can barely breathe.”

“Why is that? Are you ill?”

Gloha pondered perhaps five of her moments, but only a quarter of a giant moment. She decided to tell the truth. “It's your breath,” she shouted. “It's awful.”

“That's nothing. You should smell my cousin's breath. It can knock over an ogre at fifty paces.”

“Well, I'll go away now, so I can recover,” Gloha said. But then, so as not to be impolite, she introduced herself. “I'm Gloha Goblin-Harpy.”

“I'm Greatbow,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

Gloha couldn't honestly express pleasure at encountering the giant, so she evaded the issue by asking a question. “Why is your cousin's breath so bad?”

“My cousin Graeboe? He's ailing. He has some sickness. He's even turned visible, which means he's not much longer for happy stomping.”

“How horrible,” Gloha said. “Well, I must be gone.” She let herself drop, which wasn't at all difficult at this point. Only when she got down near the trees did her breathing begin to clear. Surely a person could not blame the giants for being as big in odor as they were in person, but the dialogue had been a strain. She had at least accomplished her purpose: the giant was no longer stomping. They should now be able to enter the cave safely.

Cynthia had reached the ground, and joined Trent at the mouth of the cave. “I'm so sorry I couldn't stay up there,” Cynthia called as Gloha glided in. “I just couldn't-”

“I understand,” Gloha said. “Maybe my experience with goblins and harpies gave me strength to endure it. Or maybe my smallness enabled me to take smaller breaths.”

Trent and Cynthia exchanged a generous glance. “Or perhaps your spirit is larger than your body,” Trent said. “Shall we tackle the next incidental challenge?”

Gloha felt a chill, though she had been in a sweat when bathed in the giant's breath. Just how safe was this venture? “I suppose, if there is no other path.”

They entered the dark cave. There was just enough light for them to see the one route forward into the mountain. Com Pewter was supposed to be a nice machine now, but his record as an evil machine was much longer, and Gloha had, if not a doubt, certainly a qualm.

They came to a chamber with a collection of junk on the floor. One pane of glass was propped up in the center. WELCOME, USERS appeared on that surface.

Trent strode forward to stand over it. “I am Magician Trent; perhaps you know of me.”

YOU CAN'T TRANSFORM INANIMATE CREATURES, the screen said, flickering worriedly.

Trent smiled. “I have not come to quarrel with you, Commie. The only viable path led here, so I thought I would pay you a call. If you don't attempt to change my reality unpleasantly, I won't transform this creature to a sphinx who will sit on you.” He indicated Gloha.

AGREED. The screen brightened with surprise. YOU LOOK YOUNG, MAGICIAN.

“Youth elixir subtracted seventy years. I will return to my real age when this mission is done.”

WHO ELSE IS WITH YOU?

“Gloha Goblin-Harpy, whom I am helping to find her ideal man. Cynthia Centaur, whom I transformed some time ago, and am now escorting to the single winged centaur family of Xanth. And Tristan Troll, whom I have transformed to a bug.”

A BUG! the screen printed, alarmed. DON'T LET IT NEAR MY PROGRAM.

Trent nodded. “As I remember, you have been known to have a problem with a virus. I can appreciate your caution. But I come not to bury you but to do you a favor.”

I DON'T BELIEVE IN FAVORS.

Gloha was impressed. It was evident that the machine was quite wary of the Magician, and there were surely very few people or creatures in Xanth who commanded such respect.

“Naturally I expect a return favor,” Trent continued smoothly.

OH. NOW YOU ARE MAKING SENSE. WHAT DO YOU WANT?

“Nothing difficult. Merely a clear, pleasant, and safe path from here to the residence of Cheiron Centaur.”

The screen dimmed a moment as Com-Pewter pondered. THERE IS ONE TO WHICH I CAN DIRECT YOU. IT CROSSES THE GAP CHASM VIA THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE AND PAUSES AT THE RESIDENCE OF GRUNDY GOLEM. WILL THIS BE SATISFACTORY?

“Certainly. Grundy isn't much, but his wife Rapunzel is delightful.”

WHAT RETURN FAVOR DO YOU OFFER?

“It happens that Tristan Troll is a thoughtful and decent creature, unlike many of his kind, who seeks employment as an information processor. It occurred to me that you could use an assistant.”

I DON'T WANT A TROLL! THE LAST ONE I ENCOUNTERED TOOK MY WHEATSTONE BRIDGE.

“Well, perhaps if he had another form. Such as a cat-”

NO.

“Or perhaps a mouse.”

The screen blinked. A MOUSE!

Trent shrugged. “Of course if you're not interested, he could be a spring chicken.”

THE MOUSE WILL DO!

Gloha stifled a laugh. Spring chickens were notorious for aging rapidly and ceasing to be attractive. They were almost like harpies in that respect. But what would Pewter want with a mouse?

Trent reached toward Gloha. The humbug jumped from her hand to his hand. Then it became a cute mouse. Trent set the mouse down before the screen. It ran around, and the path of its motion was traced by a line on the screen.

AH, YES, PERFECT: YES. NO.

“Now if you care to show us the path,” Trent suggested.

WATCH THE MOUSE.

And the mouse ran to the wall-where there was an opening Gloha had not seen before. She could almost have sworn it hadn't been there a moment ago, but of course she was a nice girl who would never swear.

They entered the new passage. The mouse sat up and squeaked. Gloha squatted down. “Thank you, Tristan,” she said. “I hope you are happy here.” She extended one finger to stroke his head.

“Just exactly what does a mouse have to do with a funny machine?” Cynthia inquired as they moved on.

“I understand it is very useful in helping people relate to the machine, perhaps because they prefer to have a living interface,” Trent said. “With a mouse, much more information can be processed in a simpler way. It's a special kind of magic that few in Xanth understand, but I knew that Pewter would. Of course there are those who don't like mice, with or without a machine. That won't bother Pewter; he'll be happy to have his mouse spook them, while remaining nominally nice.”

Now Gloha understood better. Pewter surely wasn't happy having to be nice all the time. Now he could be nasty while seeming nice.

The tunnel led directly out of the mountain-and there before them was the great gulf of the Gap Chasm. “So soon?” Gloha asked, astonished, as they peered down on the top of a small cloud that happened to be slumming.

“Com Pewter changes reality in his vicinity,” Trent reminded her. “He gave us a direct path.”

“He certainly did!” She was almost disappointed, because she was rather enjoying this journey with Cynthia and wasn't eager for it to end quickly.

Trent followed the path to the brink and put one foot cautiously over the edge. “Yes, it's here,” he said, and walked out into air.

“Eeeek!” Cynthia screamed, jamming a good four e's into her ek.

“It's the invisible bridge,” Gloha reminded her.

“I thought that was a joke.”

“I believe it was built after your time,” Trent said cheerily from midair.

Cynthia flew near him and reached out to touch the invisible structure. “It's there!” she exclaimed. “It's really there.”

“All the same, I'll fly across,” Gloha said. “The troll's bridge and invisible giant were bad enough; I don't need to trust an invisible bridge.”

“Me too,” Cynthia agreed. “I'm glad for my wings.” Then, suffering a second thought, she added: “Thanks to you, Magician. I would no longer be comfortable as a human maiden, or even a regular centaur. What made you choose this form for me?”

“You were so pretty, I didn't want to spoil it. But I didn't want you joining the centaurs, who can be as difficult as straight human folk. It was a spur-of-the-moment compromise. He glanced up at her as she hovered close by. ”I think it was a good decision, given the exigencies of the moment. I would not do such a thing today, but I believe you remain as pretty as you were then."

Cynthia blushed again. She flew on ahead, so as to hide her face. Gloha knew why: Cynthia still found the Magician insidiously attractive. Gloha understood the feeling, because she felt that attraction herself. She had been trying to deny it, but it would not be denied. But like Cynthia, she would not care to be transformed to a full human woman, even if the Magician were interested in her, or unmarried, or actually as young as he looked. She liked her own form too well. But it didn't stop her half-witted little heart from having naughty little notions.

Trent completed his crossing. Gloha was relieved; she knew the invisible bridge was sturdy, but it was still easy to imagine him plummeting into the chasm. Perhaps if she had gotten on the bridge herself, and kept her hands on the handrails, she would have had more confidence. That was another reason she never wanted to be without wings: the groundbound human form was so limited by mountains and chasms.

The way led north through the forest. Now that they had crossed the bridge, she knew it was an enchanted path, free from menace by dragons, griffins, basilisks, mean men, and other ilk That was a relief; she hoped never to meet an ilk. But she had to admit that their small encounters along the other route had been interesting. Maybe they would have been less so if there hadn't been a Magician along to protect the innocent maidens. Yet they wouldn't have had to stay down on the ground if he hadn't been along, so wouldn't have needed protection. So her impressions were sort of mixed up.

Soon they came to a giant club stuck endwise in the ground, the thorny business end up. As they came close, it quivered, as if about to lift itself up and take a swing at them. The thing was so massive that a single blow would crush any of them.

“Does the enchantment still hold?” Gloha asked in a nervous whisper.

“It should,” Trent said. “But sometimes there are flaws in the magic, and something gets through. It is best not to take any threat for granted.”

“Let me fly by it first; I don't think it could move fast enough to hit me,” she said. “If it comes out of the ground and chases me, then we'll know.”

“I'll agree only if you fly along the path. The club may be dangerous to anything that strays off the path, and merely threaten whoever passes on it.”

“That would make sense,” Cynthia said. “It might make a feint, scaring someone off the path. Then it could smash that poor person, because the enchantment doesn't extend beyond the path. The enchantment can't protect someone from foolishness.”

Trent nodded. “That's probably its ploy. So if we simply refuse to react, we'll be safe. Nevertheless, I think you had better test it. If it actually strikes in the pathway, I'll transform Cynthia into a giantess who can grab it by the handle and tame it.”

Gloha flew swiftly by the club, while the Magician and centaur waited behind. The club quivered, working its way out of the ground, about to take off.

“Gloha!” someone cried.

Gloha spun around in the air, looking back. There was a tiny man standing on top of the club. “Grundy!” she called back. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm home. This is my clubhouse. Don't worry; it doesn't bother friends. I came out the moment it started to shake.” He tapped his foot on the wood. “At ease, house. Gloha's okay.” The club stopped moving.

“You had better introduce it to my friends, too,” Gloha said, indicating Trent and Cynthia.

Grundy turned to look. “A winged centaur!” he exclaimed. “But she's too young to be Chex.”

“Actually she's older than Chex,” Gloha said. “Remember, Chex is only a year older than I am. She matured rapidly.”

Grundy squinted. “Still, this one looks only about sixteen.”

“She was delivered in the year 1005.”

“She's eighty-eight years old? You're pulling my little leg, harpy-wings. Next you're going to tell me that young man beside her is ninety-six!”

“Right. He's Magician Trent.”

“Sure, and let's see him transform something.”

Trent squatted and pointed to an ant on the path. Suddenly it became a gi-ant, a humongous creature the size of a unicorn. It looked around as if startled to see the world become so much smaller, vibrated its antennae, and made ready to chomp someone with its mandibles.

Trent transformed it to a pink bunny. The bunny hopped toward the forest.

“That's not nice,” someone called. “Change it back to its natural form before it gets lost and hurt.”

Trent went after the bunny and transformed it back into a small ant.

“That's Magician Trent, all right,” Grundy agreed. “But what's he doing so young, and with you folk?”

“He's helping me find my ideal man,” Gloha explained. “And the centaur is Cynthia, whom he transformed long ago; she's been in the Brain Coral's pool until now.”

“So she's not really all that old!” Grundy said. “She was in suspended animation.”

“Yes. Now we're taking her to join the winged centaur family.”