Roc And A Hard Place (29 page)

“To be a winged monster, or isolated from mainstream Xanth.”

“But that would exclude almost everyone!” Grey protested.

“No, I could find twelve or more qualified Jurors in this group.”

Grossclout nodded.  “Point taken.” He glanced at Grey.

“Do you have any objection to a Jury consisting of winged monsters and isolated others, provided there are a sufficient number?” Grey shrugged.  “No objection.  Your Honor.  Provided they accept the Adult Conspiracy as valid.”

“Very well.  This should facilitate the selection process. Proceed.”

But at that point the castle shook.  There was a faint howling sound, and the floor slowly tilted.

“What is going on?” Grossclout demanded irritably.

“I'll check!” Metria said, and popped outside.

It was an ugly storm brewing.  Dark clouds were scudding around the castle in a malignant pattern, and the winds were rising.  Because the Nameless Castle stood on a floating cloud, it was subject to destabilization by high winds.

“Fracto!” Metria exclaimed.

She was answered by a menacing roll of thunder.  It was the evil cloud, for sure.  Fracto had probably been sent to do this mischief by the Demoness V(E\N)us  her second effort to disrupt the trial.  That meant that the storm could not readily be stopped.

She popped back inside.  “Cumulo Fracto Nimbus is attacking,” she said.

“Why, that impertinent pip-squeak!” Grossclout snapped. “I remember when he flunked out of my Ethics of Magic class a mere century ago.”

“Well, we'll have to find a way to stop him, and soon,” Metria said.  “Before he huffs and he puffs and he blows our castle down.”

“I could transform a number of folk into roc form,” Magician Trent suggested.  “So they could flap their wings and blow him away.”

“Objection!” Ida said.  “Anchored to the castle, their backdraft might turn it right over.”

And if she believed it was so, it well might be so.

“We need something fast and gentle,” Metria said.  She felt responsible, perhaps because she had been forewarned by the Simurgh.

“A person in the audience has the talent of making a force field,” Magician Trent said.  “Perhaps that could stabilize the castle.”

“No,” Sorceress Iris said.  “It merely keeps anything in or out.  It wouldn't stop the castle from being turned over entire.”

Meanwhile the storm intensified, shaking and tilting the castle worse.  People were holding on to their chairs, but the chairs were starting to slide.

There was a squawk of alarm from Roxanne's chamber, she was trying to protect the egg in this increasingly treacherous situation.  Normally, being between a roc and a hard place was quite safe, but the egg could crack against the stone nest if jogged or rolled too violently.  HOLD ON!  the Simurgh's thought came.  Then, to Metria:  DO SOMETHING.

But what could she do?  She was an insignificant demoness.  It would do no good for her to go out and insult Fracto, who would just get worse.

Her despairing gaze saw the winged monsters flying above the others, achieving stability by having no direct contact with the heaving castle.  Among them was Chena Centaur, the most recently converted one.

Chena!  Metria popped across to her.  “Chena—I need your wishstone.  Will it work for me?”

“I'm not sure.  No one else has tried it.”

“It has to.  Give it to me.”

Distracted, the centaur reached in her pack and brought out the little stone.  Metria took it and popped outside the castle.  The clouds were roiling closer, and worse, forming obscene blisters about to burst and spatter the castle with their juice.  The castle was in the center of a turbulent wall of gray-black cloud that formed a complete circle and extended up and down, making an awful tube.  That tube was contracting, and the clouds were moving faster as it did, like a stone winding up on a whirling string.  When that tube got small enough, the castle itself would be whirled around and probably hurled right out of Xanth.  Fracto was doing his very worst ever this time.  And the Simurgh couldn't stop it, because she couldn't directly oppose the Demoness V(E/N)us.  That was why Metria had to find another way.

She lifted the stone.  “I wish Fracto would go away,” she said.

The storm hesitated.  The wish was taking effect!

But then the motion resumed.  Metria's wish wasn't enough to stop the effort of two demons:  Fracto and Venus.

Now what could she do?

A light bulb flashed just over her head.  'Mentia, make your wish!’ Mentia took over the body.  She was a little crazy, but not crazy enough to support the possible destruction of all Xanth.

She held up the wishstone.  “Fracto, go away!” she wished.

Again the evil storm hesitated.  Two wishes were stronger than one.  The funnel of dark clouds lost cohesion and began to expand.

But then it pulled itself together again.  Fracto was so ornery that even two wishes were not enough to turn him aside.

'Woe Betide!' Mentia said.

The innocent tyke took over the body.  Woe Betide's big soulful eyes brimmed with fetching tears.  She held up the wishstone.  “Please, Fracto, go away!” she wished.

This time it was too much.  The wish of an innocent child was the strongest of all.  Curses!  Foiled again!  The wall of cloud fragmented, and the fierce winds died.  The storm fell apart into a great mess of brownish blobs, like diarrhea fouling the sky, and faded into impotent drools of mist.  Fracto was gone.

GOOD WORK, GOOD DEMONESS

Metria resumed control.  She was, if not overwhelmed by the compliment, at least generously whelmed.  But she knew her job was not done.  There could still be one more effort to disrupt the trial, and she had to guard against it.

She popped inside.  The castle had stopped rocking, and the creatures were settling down.  Judge Grossclout spied her.

“You had something to do with this?” he asked around a glower in her direction.

“Yes, Your Honor,” she confessed, abashed as always by his direct attention.

“You may yet lose a bit of mush from that idiot skull,” he said, turning away.  And she felt deeply nattered again, because the Demon Professor's faintest favor was a thing rarely granted to any creature.

The impaneling of the Jury continued.  In deference to the nature of the Defendant, who was a winged monster, half the selected Jurors were winged monsters:  Gloha and Graeboe Giant-Harpy, Gary Gar and Gayle Goyle, Stanley Steamer, and Che Centaur.  The others were objective aliens, on the assumption that this would enable them to understand the viewpoint of a bird who had been mostly isolated from Xanth for several centuries:  Dug and Kim Mundane, whose contact with Xanth had been limited; Sherlock Black and Jenny Elf, who had come from far lands not all that long ago; Marrow Bones from the gourd realm; and Com-Pewter, who never did relate well to ordinary Xanth reality.  Cynthia and Chena Centaur were seated Alternates, in case something should happen to any of the impaneled Jurors; each of them had become winged monsters after being something else, so they should understand both perspectives.  Overall it was an unusual but well qualified Jury.

The Judge wasted no time.  “Is the Prosecution ready?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Grey Murphy said.

“Proceed.”

Now the wall separating the trial chamber from Roxanne Roc's nesting chamber slid back, making one huge central chamber.  Metria was surprised; she hadn't realized that this was a feature of the nameless Castle.  The big bird was now in the full view of all the assembled trial personnel.  She seemed oblivious, neither twitching any feather nor making any sound.  She merely sat, as she had for centuries.

Grey took the center stage.  “The Prosecution will demonstrate that the Defendant, Roxanne Roc, egregiously violated the Adult Conspiracy by uttering an Adult Word in the presence of a minor, and thereby may have prejudiced the future of Xanth.”

A murmur passed across the group.  Roxanne's near eye opened.  “Squawk!” she protested.

The Judge's loud gavel banged.  “There will be order in this court.  Defense will have its hour in due course.”

But this was the nub of it, Metria realized:  How could Roxanne have done any such thing, when there had not been any minors in this castle in all the centuries of her confinement here?  This was one of the most protected places in all Xanth; before the trial, few creatures had even known of the Nameless Castle's existence, fewer had visited it, and the roc had not spoken any bad words to them.  So the charge seemed baseless.  Yet Grey Murphy evidently took it seriously, and he was nobody's fool.  His talent was to nullify magic, and he seemed to be able to nullify foolish notions too.  If he thought the big bird was guilty, it seemed likely that she was.

Grossclout oriented on Grey Murphy.  “Resume.”

“First the matter of the Adult Word.  The Prosecution calls Pheira Human to the Witness Seat.”

Pheira stood and came to the Witness Box.  Grundy Golem approached her.  “Do you swear to tell the truth, no matter what?”

“Sure.”

“The Witness is duly sworn,” the Judge said, with more than a hint of annoyance at the informality.

Grey approached the Witness.  “Where do you live?”

“I live in a mushroom in the deepest jungle north of Lake Ogre-Chobee.”

“What is your talent?”

“I summon animals to help me, or those I want to help.”

“Have you ever interacted with the Defendant, Roxanne Roc?”

“Yes, once, about two years ago.”

“State the full nature of that interaction.” “

“Well, it was an accident, really, and nothing much happened, just—”

“Objection!” Ida said, and her moon bobbed.  “The Witness is offering a conclusion.”

“Sustained,” the Judge said.

Grey grimaced, then came at it another way.  “Did you have a dialogue with Roxanne Roc?”

“Yes.  But it really wasn't—”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“But I need to establish the context of this encounter,” Grey protested.

The Judge was unsympathetic.  “Find a way that doesn't cause the Witness to offer a conclusion about the Defendant.”

Grey considered.  Then he faced the Judge.  “Prosecution requests the assistance of the Court Special Effects Officer to animate this testimony, and the Court Translator to represent speech, without invoking any conclusions of the Witness.”

“Granted.”

The Sorceress Iris came to the stage, followed by little Grundy Golem.  “What scene do you want?” Iris asked.

“Start with her home, and animate her description for the Jury and audience.”

Iris stood beside the Witness, and listened to her words, which were now spoken faintly, so that the Jury did not hear.

After two and a half moments, the illusion picture formed.

It started with an aerial scene, similar to that seen by creatures being carried through the air by a roc.  It showed Lake Ogre-Chobee, with the chobees basking at its edges.  South of it was the Curse Fiends' ThunderDome, and west of it was Black Village.  Then the view slid to the north, moving down until it intersected the ground.

There was a deep jungle there, through which the Kiss Mee River wound.  The river had been very friendly, until the demons pulled it straight, making it into the Kill Mee River.  But later its friendly curves had been restored, and once again those who drank of it became kissing friendly.  In fact, some of those who partook of its fresh water became quite fresh.

Metria, watching, found herself becoming part of the scene, and came to understand the impressions and feelings of the woman whose scene this was.  It was her half soul that was doing it, she knew; she never used to care about feelings.

This became a problem one day for Pheira, when a man called Snide happened by.  He spied her giving directions to her pet catalog, and made sarcastic remarks about the cat.

“You think that moth-eaten fur ball will remember your directions?” he demanded sneeringly.  “You must be as stupid as it is.” The image was Snide, but the voice was that of Grundy Golem, who was doing the dialogue.  It didn't matter, because Grundy had a natural talent for insults.

Now, Pheira was not a person to take offense without cause, but something about the man's attitude annoyed her.

For one thing, he was wrong about the cat, who could indeed take orders competently.  “Oh, go have a drink!” she said, which was just about as close as a nice girl could get to swearing.  Then she wanted to swallow her tongue, because she remembered the effect the river water had on folk who weren't used to it.  The last thing she wanted was to have Snide get too friendly.

So she retreated into her mushroom and closed the door.

The house was, of course, somewhat mushy, but was the best she could afford.  She was afraid Snide would come after her, and that the mush would just make him even more inclined for what she didn't want.

She peeked out the window, and her fear was confirmed Snide was drinking.  In a moment he would be not only snide but fresh.  She had to escape!

Maybe if she could find her friend Alias, she could get away.  Alias' talent was to make everyone around him answer to wrong names.  When there was a crowd of people, it could get so complicated that they had to compile a list to get them all straight again.  Snide would never find her in such a crowd!

But Alias was elsewhere today, and anyway, there was no crowd of people to help confuse things.  So what about her friend Tom, who could conjure a small cloud and pluck any tool or weapon he needed from it?  Of course, he had to return the tool to the cloud before he could get any other tool, but it was a pretty strong talent.  If he were here, he could pull out a sword and tell Snide to go lose himself in a boggy swamp.

But Tom wasn't here either.  None of her friends were close.  So she would just have to flee for it, hoping that Snide would give up the chase.  She would invoke her power to summon an animal to carry her rapidly away.  What animal would be best?

Now Snide was approaching the house, and he looked really super awful fresh.  His hands would be all over her the moment he got close.  She had to summon an animal immediately.