Roc And A Hard Place (6 page)

And Woe Betide Metria was begone, involuntarily.  She hadn't learned anything.

'I wouldn't have taken that from him,' Mentia remarked. 'You didn't either, before you got your soul.’ Metria couldn't deny it.  There were times when a soul was a real liability.

‘I should have let you serve him that summons,' she said.

'Let me serve the next one.  Who is it?’ Metria checked her bag.  'Magician Trent and Sorceress Iris.’

'Um.  You take Trent; I'll take Iris.  I just had an adventure with her.’ She had arrived at her home castle.  She went inside to check on Veleno, but he was still floating in a sea of delirium, a smile glued on his face.  He would hold for another day or so.  So they popped over to the Brain Coral's Pool, where Trent and Iris were supposed to be.  But she didn't see them there.

She squatted and poked a finger into the water.

What do you want of me, Demoness?  It was the pool itself.

“Where's Magician Trent?” she inquired.

He is not here.  He took the Sorceress Iris on a second honeymoon, fifty-three years- after the first.  They like each other better this time, both being much younger than before.

“A honeymoon!” Metria exclaimed.  “You mean I have to go all the way to the moon?”

That is what I mean.

She sighed.  “Well, thanks anyway.  Pool.” She popped off to the moon.

She landed in a pile of moldy cheese.  “Ugh!” she swore, sailing up and shaking off her feet.  She had forgotten that the two sides of the moon differed; the one that faced Xanth had long since degenerated into cheesiness, because of what it saw.  Only the far side remained unspoiled.

Once she got her feet cleaned off, she flew around to the fair side.  Now she saw the surface of milk and honey, where newly married couples lolled in a reasonable approximation of the kind of delirious happiness she routinely provided for Veleno.  Of course, it wouldn't last for those others, because they couldn't remain on the honey moon forever.

She gazed across the idyllic landscape, and spied a lovely fountain of firewater, with the smoke rising to form a backdrop of pastel-hued clouds.  That was obviously illusion, as the moon didn't have clouds.  She made for it, and sure enough, there was the Sorceress in her youthened state, a girl in her mid-twenties, idly indulging her fancy while Magician Trent snoozed.

She approached Trent.  “Remember me.  King Emeritus?” she inquired.

He woke and glanced at her.  “Oh, hello, Metria.  We once almost meant something to each other, in a vision of Mundania.”

“True,” she agreed.  “That experience caused me to try marriage myself, as you remember.  Now I'm on a mission for—well, here's your summons.” She handed him his token.

He turned it 'over.  “I am to be the bailiff at a trial?  That's a novel notion.”

“And this is the novel,” she agreed, yielding the body to her worser self.

“And yours,” Mentia said, approaching Iris.  “We shared the madness, where I was sane.”

“I remember,” Iris agreed languidly.  “I was youthened for that, and I appreciate it.” She accepted her token.  “Special Effects?”

“I don't know what that means any more than you do,” Mentia said.  “Maybe you're needed for illusion pictures of things that they can't conveniently bring to the Nameless Castle.”

“The Nameless Castle!” Trent exclaimed, amazed.  “The trial is there?  Isn't that where that roc is?”

“Roxanne Roc,” Mentia agreed.  “She's the one on trial. You wouldn't happen to have a notion what for, would you?”

“I can't think of any reason.  That is one dedicated bird. This isn't some elaborate spoof?”

“That's unlikely,” Iris said.  “Look at these summons disks.  They are made of black beryl—one of the rarest stones in Xanth.  No one would fool with them.”

He nodded.  “I should think not.  Well, our stay here was about over anyway.  When do we have to report for the trial?”

“In a fortnight,” Mentia said.  She looked around.  “Oops, I feel some craziness coming on.” She dived into Iris' illusion fountain and splashed in the rising water, sending droplets splattering against the backdrop.

Then the water changed to fire, and the fire changed to water, so that she was splashing in a column of fire.  “Hoo!” she cried as it singed her derriere.  “That's hot!”

“Well, you shouldn't mess with illusion,” Trent remarked mildly.

'That's a hint we should get out of here,' Metria advised her worser self.  ‘They may want to conclude their stay here in style.’

'You would think of that, you married creature.' But Mentia obligingly popped back to their home base in Xanth.

'Who else do we need to serve?’

'Half a slew,' Metria said, checking.  'But only two more actual Trial Personnel.  Grey Murphy and Princess Ida.’

'Not Grey and Ivy?  That could be real mischief, especially if Ida gets a notion.’

'True.  But of course, the Simurgh wouldn't do anything like that.’

'No more than she would put an innocent loyal bird on trial,' Mentia remarked.

'Well, if Ida did get a notion, we could sprinkle her with Lethe elixir to make her forget about Grey,' Metria said.

'Great idea!  That could completely restore her talent, too, since the Ideas she makes become real must come from someone who doesn't know her talent.’

'That's a crazy notion,' Metria said.

'Thank you.’

'So where is Grey Murphy at the moment?’

'Use the token, blockhead!  How do you expect to locate the rest of the names?’

'Oh.' Metria took out the token marked GREY MURPHY and held it up.  Sure enough, it seemed to tug in one direction.  It wanted to do its duty, and if the summonsee wouldn't come to it, it would go to the summonsee.

She floated, letting the stone disk show the way.  She made herself smoky light, so that it was able to tug her along.  Soon she was traveling at a respectable speed, through trees, boulders, houses, dragons, and whatnot.  The general direction seemed to be northwest.

In due course she came to the coast, but the tug didn't stop.  “He can't be out in the sea!” she muttered.  But that was the direction of the tug.

A see monster lifted its huge eye and peered at her.  She ignored it.  See monsters didn't bite, they just looked.  Of course, it was important not to let them see too much, because they got really smug when they suc-see-ded.  When the big eye threatened to look down the front of her blouse, she changed it to a tortoise-necked sweater.  When the monster tried to look up under her skirt, she changed it to slacks, eliminating any possible view of anything interesting.  She could have changed form to a bird, or faded out entirely, but she preferred to tease the thing.  Disgusted at not being able to see the color of her panties, the monster sank back under the sea surface.

She was now floating over the Golf of Mecks Co.  She had to watch out for flying golf balls, because this was their natural home.  They sailed in from all over, plunking into the water where they chortled as they sank forever out of sight.

She couldn't blame them; it meant that they would never again be clubbed by irons.

The shoreline, discovering she was leaving it behind, set out to do something about it.  She continued to fly in a straight line, but it curved around until it intersected her course.  Then the sea made an effort, and pushed back under her, but the land would not be denied, and shoved forcefully across until it was going west, and hung on despite the sea's best efforts.  She had not before realized how competitive these two elements were.

But by this time she was just about there.  She was right at the westernmost fringe of Xanth, about to pass across the fringe of magic.  Since she didn't know what would happen to her if she went beyond the magic, she came down to earth.

When human beings left the magic, they lost their magic talents but were otherwise pretty much the same.  When partly magical creatures crossed the boundary, they became Mundane creatures, unbearably dull.  But demons were wholly magical, and they might simply cease to exist.  She preferred not to risk it.

Yet the token still tugged ahead.  She walked right up to the scintillating curtain that separated most of Xanth from Mundania, and stopped.  The token tugged one way, and then another.  What was going on?

'Buffoon!' Mentia said.  'Don't you remember—the river beyond moves about constantly.  It's very mobile.’

'Mobile,' Metria agreed, remembering.  'It's always in a hurry to be somewhere else.  The people who live by it have to keep moving too.  But why would Grey be out there?’ Mentia considered.

'This is a crazy thing, so perchance I understand it better.  I think maybe Grey is not out there.

We're getting a reflection from the magic Interface I helped recompile; it's stronger than it used to be.’ There was that crazy claim again, about visiting Xanth's distant past and saving everything from encroaching madness.  But maybe her worser half was right about one detail.

Metria turned around and held up the token.  Sure enough, now the tugging was stronger, from the east.  So she left the crazy moving region behind and proceeded toward whatever Grey Murphy was up to.  She was relieved; she could handle a river or place that was mobile, if she had to, but she didn't want to go any closer to drear Mundania than absolutely necessary.

The direction steadied.  Possibly the mobile terrain beyond had caused ripples in the curtain, so that the reflection moved despite having a still source.  Now she was orienting on Grey directly.  She floated up and moved faster.

She came to a sign:  YOU ARE NOW APPROACHING PENS COLA.

'What's Grey doing in a pen?' Mentia demanded.

Metria didn't answer.  She spied a fence ahead.  Each post was a very large writing pen, of a particular style.  One was a feather quill, another a metal-tipped stake, and a third jetted colored water into the air.

'Oh, a fountain pen,' Mentia said.

Ropes were strung between the pens to complete the fence.

The fence curved slowly into the surrounding forest.  On each standing pen was a single printed letter.  'There's something familiar about this,' Mentia muttered.

'I know what it is!' little Woe Betide cried.  'I saw letters on a chain.  Just walk along and read them.’

“Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings…” Metria muttered.  She walked along, reading the letters.  They formed a repeating series:  COST OF LIVING ADJUSTMENT.

Metria couldn't make much sense from this.  She stood and gazed at the fence, wondering whether to fly on over it.  Was that what the fence was penning?

Suddenly the pens uprooted themselves and jumped to new holes beside the old ones.  Metria could tell from the direction and curvature that the fence now enclosed a bit more territory than it had before.  It had gotten larger.  There were old filled-in holes inside the penned region, showing that this had been happening for some time.  But who cared?

'I can't read those big words,' Woe Betide complained.

'Just use the first letters, dear,' Mentia suggested.  'C 0 L A.’ 'The pens spell COLA?' she asked.

'Pens COLA,' Mentia agreed.  'And it seems it keeps expanding.’ Metria shrugged.  'Maybe that makes sense to you, because you're a little crazy, but I'm going to fly on by it now.' She lifted higher and followed the tug of the token on across the fenced region.

At last she caught up to Grey Murphy.  He was just standing in place, looking puzzled.  “What's, up, man from Mundania?” she inquired, shifting to an appropriate outfit for the occasion:  very short tight skirt, vaguely translucent very full blouse, voluminously flowing black hair with embedded sparkles, and a complexion so clear that one might almost see one's reflection in it.  There was just something about men of power that intrigued her.  He had been betrothed to Princess Ivy ever since he arrived in Xanth, and it seemed that he should have done something about that by now.  She doubted that she could actually tempt him, but it was worth a try.  A girl just never could tell about a human man.  Especially a Magician.

Grey looked up.  “What mischief are you up to this time, Metria?” he inquired.

“I have something for you,” she said, inhaling.

He refused to be bluffed.  “What is that?”

She leaned slightly forward, vanishing the top button of her blouse so as to expose more heaving scenery, but he didn't seem to notice.  “A summons.” She proffered the token.

He took it and turned it over.  “I am to be prosecutor at a trial?  I don't know anything about that.”

“It's the trial of Roxanne Roc, at the Nameless Castle.  I can help you find your way there, if you wish.”

“No need.  What did she do?  I thought she was on a mission for the Simurgh.”

“She is.  But the Simurgh wants the trial.  It's a mystery why.  So you will have to prostitute.”

“Have to what?”

“Indict, arraign, persecute—”

“Prosecute?”

“Whatever.” She was ruining the good impression she was trying to make.

He shrugged.  “Who else will be there?”

“Professor Grossclout.  Magician Trent.  Sorceress Iris. Princess Ida.  A bunch of Jurors.  Nobody important.”

“The Demon Professor Grossclout?” he asked, brightening.  “I've always wanted to meet him.  He'll be the Judge, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I'll consult with him.  He'll know what to do.” He looked around.  “But first I have to finish what I'm doing here.”

“What are you doing.  Grey?”

“I am looking for Re.”

“Who?”

“A girl called Re.  Humfrey said she would be here, in the region known as Ality, but I can't seem to find her.”

“What's the matter with her?”

“She got confused, and is in trouble.  Humfrey said her talent turned against her.  So I'm here to nullify it, to get her out of trouble.  My talent is the nullification of magic, so I should be able to handle it..  She'll owe the Good Magician a year's service, of course.  But there just doesn't seem to be anything here in Ality.” He looked frustrated.  “How can I nullify something when I can't find it?”

“Maybe I can succor,” Metria said, intrigued.

“Maybe you can what?”

“Aid, support, deliverance, assistance, service—”