Harpy Thyme (28 page)

“But you may never return!” they cried.

That was true. He sighed. And compromised. “I will free one of you, and she can look for another key to free the rest of you.”

He went to the nearest cell and reached for the lock. Metria had to lift him up. He put the key in the keyhole and tried to turn it. It was too stiff for him. So Metria held him up against her extremely plush front with one arm across his body, and used her freed hand to brace his little hand, adding considerable power to his effort. The key turned and the lock clicked.

“Oh thank you, kind sir!” the nymph exclaimed. She pushed on the door, and it swung open. She stepped out in her pert nakedness, leaned forward, and kissed Graeboe on the forehead. He was still aloft, because Metria had not yet set him down.

“Is that a variant of a proper reaction?” the demoness inquired.

“Yes,” Graeboe agreed, yanking his gaze from the nymphly assets. Small size was having unexpected benefits! “I did her a favor, so she thanked me in a nice way, though she is a soulless creature.”

“Well, let's get moving,” Metria said. She adjusted her grip so as to carry him as she had before, and started down the hall.

“Ho!” someone called. It was Veleno.

Metria paused, and the nymph screamed. “Eeek!” She kicked her feet and her hair flung about as she sought some hiding place-which turned out to be back in her cell.

“Well, I'm not waiting for this,” Metria said. She strode right toward Veleno, whose eyes were glazing slightly as he took in her configuration and motion. Graeboe had a notion how the man felt. The effect would have been even stronger, had Graeboe himself not been covering the most eye-popping section of her body, by being carried against it.

“You can't escape,” Veleno said, reaching out to grab the demoness.

There was a collision. Not with Metria. With Graeboe. The demoness, unable to interact with the things of the castle, passed right through Veleno's body and out the other side. Graeboe was left in Veleno's arms, because he was a real creature, and therefore solid to the castle. The demoness must have lost cohesion with respect to his body when it collided with the man's body.

The two looked at each other. “Ugh!” they said together. Veleno dropped Graeboe, who was able to land on his feet without too much of a jar. He discovered that his small size made him light, so that a fall that could have killed him in giant form didn't hurt him in elf form. He staggered to the side, where a nymph reached between the bars to catch him and help support him.

Veleno turned and stared after Metria, who was well worth staring after. “You're a demoness!” he exclaimed, disappointed.

“So?” she demanded, turning impressively so that her full display was functioning. “You're no prize yourself, nympho.”

“If only you'd been mortal,” he said. “You'd be ten times as good to marry as that freaky little winged goblin.”

Metria turned a faint shade of pink. She cast down her demure gaze. “Thank you,” she breathed, the top contours of her dress dipping slightly to facilitate the effort.

Veleno seemed about to lose his balance. That wasn't surprising, as Graeboe would have lost his own footing had the nymph not been steadying him.

“What's she got that we haven't got?” the nymph inquired, evidently not impressed in quite the same manner.

“Clothing,” Graeboe answered. “It adds mystery, as well as support and, uh, uplift.”

“Oh, pooh! We could don clothing if we wanted to.”

“She can also doff her clothing when she wants to,” he replied. “With no hands.”

But their dialogue was merely incidental. The main interest was in the center of the hall.

“What are you doing carrying an elf in here?” Veleno demanded of Metria.

“What are you doing immuring nymphs?” she retorted.

“Doing what to nymphs?”

“Penning, committing, jailing, impounding, imprisoning-”

“Incarcerating?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.

“I'm looking for the one who will love me.”

“Well, you're a dung beetle, and you'd better-” She paused. “To do what to you?”

“To love me.”

“I thought you just wanted a body to maul.” She adjusted her position, and inhaled more deeply. Her décolletage, overmatched, would have given up, had it had any common sense.

“That too,” he agreed. “When I find love, I'll be free of all this.” He gestured at the castle around them.

“Why don't you let the nymphs go, once you know they don't love you?”

“I told you that before.”

“Not me you didn't.”

He sighed. “Because I can't tell one from another. So I have to save all the used ones.”

Metria shook herself, remembering something. Her dress was definitely supernatural; nothing less would have survived that motion. Then she walked back through Veleno, who seemed dazed. She picked Graeboe up again and headed down the passage.

“Hay, wait!” Veleno cried, trying to recover some notion of initiative. “You can't take that elf! He's got my key!”

“He sure has,” she agreed, accelerating. Graeboe actually bounced against her bosom. Fortunately it was so soft that he suffered no harm.

“No you don't!” Veleno said, starting after them.

“Yes I do,” Metria retorted, breaking into a full run. She came to a stairway, clambered up it, turned at the landing, and was ascending the second flight as Veleno reached the first.

He glanced up, and lost his stride. Graeboe realized that the man must have caught a glimpse of demonly panties from the angle, and been suitably stunned. Metria was really using her assets.

But in a moment they heard the pursuit resuming. Veleno could no longer see what he should not be seeing, so was able to remember what he was supposed to be doing. However, Metria now had a good lead, and she continued to move swiftly.

“I wish I could be a souled creature, just for an hour,” she said. “Just long enough to find out what love is.”

“I wish you could too, Metria,” Graeboe said. “For whatever reason, you are really helping me, and I appreciate it. I wish there were some way to reward you.”

“Me too. But I think I just have to learn love by myself.”

“I think you do. Maybe you will find the way.” They came to the upper section. This was the level where Trent and Marrow were confined. But there was a problem: Metria in her haste had taken another route back, and they were in another passage. One that did not pass that cell. Metria cast about, trying to find the way, but there seemed to be none. Meanwhile Veleno was catching up.

“Free us! Oh free us!” the confined nymphs there chanted in unison. But the demoness ignored them, searching for the connection.

“Where the funk is it?” Metria demanded. “I didn't explore this floor carefully before. I could pop right over there, but only you can carry the key.”

“Maybe this way leads on up to Gloha's cell,” Graeboe said. “We can release her first, then see about the others.” Veleno came into sight. “Ha!” he cried. “Got you trapped!”

“Never, you creep,” Metria cried. She kicked her feet, turning around, and her hair flung out in almost nymphly fashion as she oriented on the passage ahead and got up velocity. She found the circling stairway and zoomed up it, bounce by bounce. Graeboe just hung on to the key.

They reached the top. There was Gloha's cell. “We've got the key!” Graeboe gasped as Metria came to a sudden stop almost against the door.

“Oh, wonderful!” Gloha cried. “But who are you?” Graeboe realized that she did not know about his transformation. “I am Graeboe Giant. Trent and Marrow were captured trying to rescue you, but I reached out to Trent and he transformed me to this form so I could get the keys.”

“Graeboe!” she echoed, astonished. “How you've changed!” She peered at him more closely. “But you do have his features. I mean your features.”

“Homely,” he agreed without depreciation. “It usually doesn't matter how an invisible giant looks."

Metria held him up while he put the key in the lock. Then she helped him turn it, as before. The lock clicked.

Graeboe pulled on the door, and Metria pulled on him, and it swung open. “Oh thank you, both of you!” Gloha cried, impulsively hugging Graeboe. She, as a goblin, was about twice his elf height, instead of Metria's quadruple. She just sort of leaned down and picked him up in her embrace. It was a delightful experience, because she, unlike Metria, was sincerely caring.

“Ha!” It was Veleno. He charged up to the cell and pushed the door shut. The demoness tried to block him off, but he ran right through her, as before.

“The key!” Graeboe cried, remembering, as Gloha set him down. “It's still in the lock!”

“Not any more,” Veleno said with grim satisfaction. He turned the key, locking the door again, and drew it out.

“Let go of it!” Metria cried, trying to grab the key from him. But her hand passed through it and him. She was completely ineffective. “Oh, fudge!” she swore.

“What kind of confection?” Veleno inquired snidely.,

“Oh, go fry an eyeball!”

He faced the cell. “Let me know when you are ready to marry me, goblin girl. I will check on you every few hours.” I suspect you will grow hungry and thirsty before too long, as will your elf friend."

“Never!” Gloha cried as he departed.

Outraged, the demoness puffed into smoke and dissipated.

“Wait, Metria!” Graeboe cried desperately, thinking of something.

She reappeared inside the cell. “I can't do anything for you,” she said. “I can't touch him or the key. So I guess I'd better go amuse myself elsewhere.”

That was what he had been afraid of. “Metria, you have really made progress in learning human emotion. Now perhaps you can make more. You can do the generous thing and get help for us.”

“Why should I bother?” she asked.

“Because it's the kind of thing a feeling person would do. You do have some feelings, as you explained before. Maybe you can get the one you want, if you just keep acting the way a person who had such feeling would.”

She considered. “All right. I'll give it one more shot. What do you want this time?”

“Pop over to Gloha's relatives and tell them where she is, and how she is about to be married against her will. Then lead them here.”

Metria considered further. “That would be a feeling thing to do, wouldn't it?” she mused.

“Very feeling,” Gloha agreed, catching on to the ploy. “Maybe tell the winged centaurs too. And the giants.”

“You're asking for a lot!” the demoness said, bridling.

“Yes. Only a really generous and feeling person would consider it,” Graeboe said.

“Oh, all right!” Metria agreed crossly. She vanished.

There was a silence. Then Gloha turned shy. “Are you really Graeboe?” she asked. “Not just an elf in his image?”

“I really am. I confess it is strange being this size, but it is what seemed necessary.” He looked around. “Do you mind if I sit down? I am very weak.”

“I'd offer you a cushion, if I had one,” she said. “I'm afraid the stone floor will have to do.”

“Thank you.“ He sat, leaning against the wall. ”I'm sorry I didn't succeed in rescuing you."

“But it was nice of you to try.”

“I should have remembered to take the key out,” he said, angry at himself. “What a stupid mistake.”

“No more so than my getting myself caught like this,” she said. “You really didn't have to risk yourself like that.”

“Yes I did.”

She smiled. “I think your decency is as big as you are. In your natural size, I mean.”

“No, it wasn't that. I'd have done it anyway.”

“Why?”

“I-” Suddenly he realized why, and knew he couldn't say it. What was the point, when they existed on two different scales, and he was so soon to die anyway? “It was just the right thing to do.”

“No, I was foolish, and should pay for it. It's not right to get you and Trent and Marrow in trouble because of me.” She paused, angling her head in thought. “Maybe I should agree to marry him, if he'll let the rest of you and the nymphs go.”

“No!” he cried, stricken.

She looked at him in surprise at his vehemence. Then she changed the subject. “What is it like to be a giant?”

“Big,” he said succinctly.

She laughed again. He thrilled when she did that. “How true! But I mean, what do you do? How did your breed come to be? To be so big, and invisible too?”

“That's not much of a story,” he said, fidgeting.

“Are you uncomfortable about it? I'm sorry; I shouldn't pry. I was just curious.”

“Oh, it isn't that,” he protested. “I'll be happy to tell you our history. I'm fidgeting because I'm very weak and the stone is very hard.”

“Oh, yes, it is, isn't it?” she agreed. “But maybe I can do something about that. Let me hold you.”

He thought he had misheard. “I-think I don't understand.”

“I am larger than you now, and softer. I can handle the stone. Let me hold you, and shield you from its hardness.”

“Oh, that wouldn't be right,” he protested.

“Why not?”

“Because I-” Again he had to stifle it. Because he would so very much like to be so close to her.

She cocked her head again. “Are you going to give me a reason, Graeboe?”

“No.”

“Then come on,” she said. “You have been a friend to me when you didn't have to be, and I will be a friend to you. It is little enough, considering our situation.”

He found that he wasn't able to demur when she phrased it that way. He tried to get to his feet, but had difficulty.

“Oh, you really are weak,” she said solicitously. “I keep forgetting. It carried right through from your other size. Here, I'll get you.” She got readily to her feet, stepped across the cell to him, sat beside him, reached across, and heaved him onto her lap in a sitting posture. She put her arms around him, holding him steady. His head came up just to her petite bosom. “Is that better?”

“I feel like a child,” he said.

She laughed once more, rocking him with the expression. “That's the way I usually feel, when dealing with regular human folk. It's about time I made somebody else feel that way.” She settled back against the wall. “Now tell me about the giants.”

Centuries ago, the ancestors of the giants were ordinary human folk. They lived in a village in central Xanth, and harvested not-holes from the local pining trees, which they traded to other villages for other goods. Wherever there was an unwanted hole, one of their special not-holes would eliminate it, without the necessity for any rebuilding. So there was a fairly steady demand, and the village got by, trading the holes for what else they needed.