Roc And A Hard Place (7 page)

“Help?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly.  Why did her impediment always get worse when she least wanted it to?

“Since when do you try to help anyone, Metria?”

“Since when I got half-souled.”

He reconsidered.  “That does make a difference.  Very well:  How do you propose to help?”

“Well, this seems like a slightly crazy situation, so I'll see if my crazy worser half has any insight.” She turned the body over to Mentia.

“Hello, D. Mentia,” he said.  “I don't think we've met before.”

“Fortunately,” Mentia agreed.  “Kiss me.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm the half without soul or conscience.  I demand payment for my services.”

“Kisses for help?”

“To start.” She turned slightly so as to give him a better view of her profile.  Metria had had the right idea with this outfit, but simply lacked the crazy cunning to exploit it properly.

“I'd be crazy to agree to a deal like that.  Suppose Ivy found out?”

“That's what makes it interesting.”

He pondered a moment.  “Okay.”

She was startled.  “You agree?”

“On one condition.  I do the kissing.”

“Sure.  One kiss for each helpful thing I figure out.”

“Agreed.  What have you figured out?”

“Go away and come back here.”

“What?”

“Just do it, handsome.  Craziness doesn't make sense until after the fact.  You don't have to go far.  Turn twice when you do it, too.”

Grey looked baffled, but complied.  He turned and walked away.  Then he turned again and walked back.  “What does this prove?”

“Have you turned and returned?”

“Yes.”

“So if you came to Ality before, now you have come to Re-Ality.”

He frowned.  “I suppose.  What's the point?”

“You have to re-do things to reach Re.  Now that you have re-considered and re-turned to Re-Ality, you are closer to finding her.”

“That's crazy!”

“Yes.  Pay me.”

He looked annoyed, but also.  thoughtful.  “Very well. Come here.”

Mentia stepped close to him and raised her face.  But he took her head in his hands, turned it down, and kissed the top of her head.

“Hey, that's not what I meant,” she protested.

“I kissed you.  Nobody specified where.”

“But that's—”

“Crazy?”

Mentia realized that she hadn't made precisely the deal she thought.  Or maybe Grey Murphy was smarter than she thought.  She shrugged.  That simply made it more of a challenge.  “Now, I think that Re has this power of re-doing, and maybe she got mixed up and re-jected herself.  So you must search and re-search to find her.”

“But I have already searched!”

“Right.  Do it again.  You have merely re-hearsed it so far.”

He nodded.  He went through the motions of searching, again.  “Okay, I have re-searched.  I still don't see her.  What now?”

“Re-pay me.”

“Oh.” He took her right hand and kissed it.  But this time a pair of lips appeared on her hand, and kissed him back.

“Now look around again,” she said.  “Examine and examine again.”

He looked around twice.  “Okay, I have re-examined the region.  What now?”

“Pay—”

“Not until you produce something more positive.”

She sighed.  He was too canny to make this game really fun.  “I think we must be very close to finding her now.  Call her—and call again.”

He nodded.  He cupped his mouth with his hands.  “Re!” he called.  Then again:  “Re!” He had re-called her.

There was a faint sound, almost like a female moan.

“Quick, orient twice,” Mentia said.

Grey focused on the area where the sound seemed to have come from, then re-focused.  “I am re-orienting,” he said.

“Do you feel anything?”

“Yes, there is something here,” he agreed.

“Say it again.”

He said it again:  “There is something here.”

And with that re-statement, a form appeared faintly.

“Move her,” Mentia said.  “Twice.”

He put his arms around the shape and moved it.  Then he moved it again.  The form became firmer.

“This has to be Re,” he said.  And again:  “This has to be Re,” he re-peated.

The form clarified.  “Yes!” she breathed.  “Help me!  Help me!”

“Now I can use my own magic,” Grey said.  “I can nullify her magic.” He put his hand on her head.  “Verse.  Reverse.”

The re-suit was encouraging.  Suddenly the complete woman was there.  She was re-asonably young and pretty.

“Oh, you have saved me!” she cried.  “It's such a re-lief. I'm so re-ally grateful!” She flung her arms about him and kissed him several times on the face before he could re-act.

“Ahem,” Mentia said.  “It seems to be that you let a number of payments go by, and now you're paying the wrong person.”

Grey smiled ruefully.  “You're right.  You have been very helpful, Mentia.” He disengaged from Re, took Mentia in his arms, and kissed her soundly on the mouth, twice.  There was magic in his kisses that nullified her craziness.

“Wow!” she said, dizzied.  “Wow!”

“Well, you did earn it,” he re-plied.  “In your slightly crazy way.”

“I will re-frain from further demands,” Mentia said, and gave the body back to Metria.  She had been teasing him, but his magic had more than nullified her effort, and she needed to re-cover.

Grey turned back to Re.  “What happened to you?”

“I was trying to re-build my house, and I paused to reflect,” she re-lated.  “Something distracted me, and I accidentally re-pealed myself.  The last thing I was able to do was re-lease a plea to the Good Magician to help me; I wasn't sure he would re-ceive it, but it was too late to revise it.  Then you came and re-pulsed my own magic that remained re-pressing me, and re-juvenated me.  Thank you so much, from the re-cesses of my heart!  Normally I am more re-served, but—”

“Well, you know you will have to give the Good Magician a year's service before this is re-solved,” Grey reminded her.  “He sent me to re-animate you.”

“Yes, I am re-conciled to that,” she said.  “But I feel revitalized, and I really do re-spect the Good Magician.”

“There is a magic path near here that will lead you safely to his re-constructed castle,” Grey said.

“Thank you.” Re organized herself and set off down the path.  She had a long way to go, but her re-cent experience evidently gave her courage.

Grey turned to Metria.  “Now I can go to the Nameless Castle.  Where is-it?”

“In the sky.  Can you enlist the help of a roc bird to carry you there?  You're too heavy for me to carry, much as I'd like to try.”

“Yes, there is a roc who owes Humfrey,” he said.  He paused.  “You know, you—or your worser half—have been so helpful that I no longer re-sent your presence.  Your acquisition of a soul does seem to have made you a better creature.”

Metria found herself blushing, something she never used to do in the old days.  “Thank you.  But I'm just trying to complete my own service to the Good Magician so I can reproduce.”

“Oh?” I thought demonesses could do that when they chose to.”

“Yes.  But apparently it's much harder the second time. So now I need help to get the stork's re-vision.”

He didn't challenge her miscue.  “You summoned the stork before?”

“Yes, about four hundred and forty years ago, give or take a couple, but who's counting?  It was a bad business, I now realize.”

“There is surely an interesting story there,” he said.  “But I'd better call that roc.”

“Bye,” she agreed, and popped off.

She arrived at Castle Roogna. There at the two prominent corners of the roof were Gary Gar and Gayle Goyle, spouting water into the moat.  It wasn't raining, so Metria wasn't certain where the water was coming from, but it was a nice effect.  The moat looked quite clean, which wasn't surprising, because the gargoyles' job was to purify the water they spouted.

'I'll handle this,' Mentia said.  'I know them.' She moved up to take over the body, then addressed the two winged monsters.  “Hello, you ugly brutes!  Remember me?”

Both gargoyles swallowed their water so they could talk.

“Demoness Mentia!” Gary cried.  “We haven't seen you in a year.”

“True.  I've been with my better half, trying to figure out what her strange new life is all about.  But now I have two summonses for you.  You are to be Jurors at the trial of Roxanne Roc.”

“Who?” Gayle asked.

“A big bird who is hatching something for the Simurgh.”

“All right,” Gary said.  “We'll be there.”

Mentia tossed a token up to each of them.  They caught them in their mouths.  Two more served.

She went on inside the castle, returning the body to her better self.  Princess Ida came to meet her.  “How nice to see you, Metria,” she said, in very much the way Rapunzel had.

But Ida never said anything she didn't believe, because she believed what she said.

Then Metria stared.  There was something floating past the Princess' head.  “Ida—there's a big bug about to land on you!”

Ida smiled.  “That's not a bug.  It's my moon.”

“Your what?”

“Planet, globe, orb, heavenly body, orbiting fragment—”

“But what are you doing with a little moon?”

“It just came to me, and it was so cute, I couldn't tell it to go away.  It's really no harm.”

Apparently not.  It was just a tiny blob that slowly swung around her head.  “It does look sort of sweet,” Metria admitted.  “Will it grow up to be a big planet someday?”

“I hope so.” Ida smiled.  “What can I do for you?”

“You can accept this summons to participate in the trial of Roxanne Roc.”

“Why, of course,” Ida agreed, accepting the token.  She was a very agreeable person.  “And I see I am to defend her. I shall surely do my best.”

This was almost too easy.  “You're not worried because you don't know what you're defending her from?”

“I'm sure I will soon find out.”

Metria decided not to argue.  She had too many tokens still to serve to waste time.  “And you can find the Nameless Castle?”

“I'm sure I will.”

And if she believed it, she probably would, because Ida's talent was the Idea:  Whatever she believed would be, would be.  Except that the Idea had to come from someone who didn't know her talent.  That limited it considerably.

But it was clear that Princess Ida did not yet know what this trial was all about.  Metria's main vice had always been her curiosity, and now it was becoming almost painful.  Why should there be such an enormous effort because of one big bird who seemed never to have done anyone any harm?  The mystery intensified with every step Metria took.

Metria returned home to stoke Veleno up for a few more hours, then assessed the remaining tokens.

Most of the names seemed straightforward, and she thought there shouldn't be any problem locating them.  But one name she dreaded, because that person was bound to be uncooperative.  What would happen if she managed to serve every summons but one?  Would the trial be delayed, and would Metria then fail in her service and be denied what she most desired?  That would perhaps be fitting, but she sincerely did not want it to happen.

If she was going to fail, this was the name that would fail her.  So the sensible thing to do was to tackle it next.  Then if it went wrong, she wouldn't have to bother with the other names.  Unless she got a release from the Simurgh.  This was, after all, just one of the Jurors, and there were more than a dozen of them; some would be eliminated at the trial itself.

But she rather thought that she had better get all the names, if she possibly could.

So she lifted the token for Threnody, the half demoness wife of Jordan the Barbarian.  It tugged, and she floated where it led.

Deep in the jungle near the slowly diminishing Region of Madness, she caught up to Jordan and Threnody.  They were eating a freshly picked pot pie.  It was, of course, shaped like a pot, and was rich in iron.

Metria turned invisible and floated quietly up to them, knowing that a certain amount of discretion was in order.

But it didn't work.  Threnody lifted her nose and started sniffing.  She was a lovely black-haired black-eyed dusky sultry beauty of comely aspect and statuesque proportion; in fact, she looked good, considering her age.

“Fee fi fo fum,” the luscious damsel said darkly.  “I smell the bod of someone's mum.” She glared.

'You never could fool her, you know,' Mentia remarked for no particular reason.

Metria sighed and turned visible.  “I really wish you would let bygones be bygones, Thren.”

“Corpulent chance.  Met!  Go away.”

“You know I've changed recently.”

“Well, change into nonexistence, Demoness.”

Jordan Barbarian continued eating, seemingly not interested in the dialogue.  He was a rough-hewn primitively handsome man of middling age who took justified pride in his ignorance of civilized ways, but he had learned not to poke his nose into his wife's business, lest she cut it off.

However, his crude male eye did explore the crevice of Metria's décolletage and the projection of her posterior, as was expected according to the Barbarian Code.

It was clear that this was going to be difficult, “I have something to give you.”

“You have already given me more than enough,” Threnody said, showing her teeth in unfeigned fury.  “Now give me what I most crave:  your total absence.”

“Right after I give you this handsome engraved disk.”

She held it up.

“That looks like black beryl,” Threnody snapped.  “That's a summons from the Simurgh.”

“Yes.  For you.  To be a Juror at a trial.”

The woman brightened momentarily.  “Are they finally trying you for treason against Xanth?”

“No, this is for Roxanne Roc.”

“Then I'm not interested.” Threnody faced away.

Metria had been afraid of this.  The woman simply refused to take anything from her, or to give her anything other than anger.  So she tried with Woe Betide.

The winsome little girl appeared.  “Please, your delightfulness, if you will only accept this token, I will go away forever minus a few mutates.” A big tear formed.

Jordan glanced at the darling tot.  His eyeball did not sweat in the same manner as it had for Metria's tight-fitting adult configuration, but he had a certain interest in children, because their simple minds were parallel to his own.

“Don't tease me with that old act, you rotten brat!” Threnody gritted, impressed not half a whit.  “I'll not accept anything from any of your deceitful variations, because I know it's the same soulless bitch of a demoness inside.  Now, are you going to get far away from me, or do I have to start singing?”

Worse yet.  Threnody's songs were always so horribly sad that Metria couldn't stand to hear them, and had to flee. ”No, please don't do that!” Woe Betide cried, another big tear welling out.  “You must take this token!”

Threnody started singing.  Woe Betide clapped her little hands over her little ears, but the excruciatingly sad melody insinuated itself past them and into her head.  She couldn't stand it.  She lost cohesion, and reverted to Metria—who still couldn't stand it.  It was Threnody's ultimate weapon against her, always effective.

She retreated until the sound became faint.  Then she formed heavy earmuffs to dull down the sound so that the dirge was only faintly agonizing.  Now she could stand it— but she wasn't close enough to plead with Threnody about the summons.

Still, she couldn't quit, because that could mess up her whole mission; It was just barely maybe possible that Threnody was suffering the merest slightest tiniest little suggestion of a hint of softening, and might on some impossibly farfetched chance change her mind eventually.  So Metria remained where she was, in sight of the dusky woman and the barbarian.

But Threnody was having less than none of it.  She consulted inaudibly with Jordan; then the two of them walked away.  It was clear that they would not gladly remain in Metria's sight.

So Metria floated after them.  When she got too close, Threnody resumed her song of lamentation and drove her away again.  So it was an impasse:  Metria could not approach Threnody, or make her accept the summons token, but neither could Threnody make Metria leave her entirely alone.

In fact, just to make it interesting, Metria formed a diaphanous gown and teased the barbarian with it; that much mischief she could do from this distance.  Naturally Threnody was not unduly keen on having her man entertained for too long in this manner, but unless she cut out his eyeballs they could not be prevented from straying.  This was the nature of the features of barbarian men; it was involuntary.

Threnody abruptly turned and walked in a new direction.

Metria realized that she was heading directly into the nearby Region of Madness.  That was an extremely chancy thing to do, as Metria well knew.  Obviously Threnody was prepared to risk it, in the hope that Metria would not follow.

'She's got a surprise coming,' Mentia remarked.

Indeed she did!  For though the madness caused strange things to happen, and messed up the minds of ordinary folk until they became acclimated, it made Mentia sane.  Because Mentia's normal state was slightly crazy, so her abnormal state was opposite.  Mentia could handle the Region of Madness.

The fringe of madness came into view.  It was a mere shimmer of unreality, suggesting the dissolution beyond.

Most folk avoided it with horror, but Threnody was plunging on in, half dragging Jordan along.  Metria floated in their wake, maintaining the compromise distance between them.

She wanted to keep them in sight, because she wasn't sure the token would accurately track Threnody within the madness.  It was impossible to be sure what would happen there.

Then for a moment they paused.  There was a man, looking bewildered.  His features were indistinct, as if he wasn't quite sure himself who he was or what he was doing here.  He seemed to appeal to Threnody for assistance or advice, but she brushed him off and plunged on, still towing Jordan.

Soon Metria caught up to that place.  “Hello!” the man cried.  “Can you help me?  I'm lost.”

'Keep on moving, or you'll lose them,' Mentia advised.

But Metria's half conscience wouldn't allow it.  She formed herself into a nonprovocatively garbed woman.  “You don't want to be in this region,” she said.  “You're heading into madness.”

“I surely am!” he agreed.  “Where am I?”

“Pretty much dead center of southern Xanth.  Now if you go back that way, you'll get into ordinary territory and should be all right.” She pointed away from the madness.

“Xanth?  I'm in Xanth?” He seemed amazed.

“Where else?  Now, I must be on my way.” For Threnody and Jordan were almost out of sight, their images fuzzed by the lunacy of the deepening madness.

“But I can't be there!” he cried.  “It's not possible.”

“Well, you'll have to settle that for yourself,” Metria said, moving on.

“No, you don't understand,” he said, following her.  “I— I'm from—from Mundania.”

“That's your misfortune.” She forged on, watching the pair ahead.

“But this makes no sense,” he said, pacing her.  “Xanth isn't real.  It's a story.”

“Suit yourself.  But if you don't reverse in a hurry, you're going to be out of Xanth proper and into madness, and I don't think you'll like it.”

He shook his head.  “I must indeed be mad.  Or maybe this is all a bad dream.  The last thing I remember is—“ He shook his head.  “Then I was floundering around here.” He peered at her more closely.  “If I may ask—who are you?”

'I think I know what's happened,' Mentia said.  'I'll take over now, before the madness drives you crazy.' Then, assuming the body, she spoke to the man.  “I am D.  Mentia.”

“Dementia?”

“Close enough.”

“I am Richard Siler.”

“Richard?  I know a Richard from Mundania.”

“They call me Billy Jack.”

Mentia was on the verge of her sanity as she entered the madness, so was able to make sense of this.  “A nickname.”

“Yes.”

“I think I had better take you to the other Richard.  He understands about Mundane visits.”

“Thank you.”

“But be prepared:  This is about to get strange.”

“Stranger than it already is?  I doubt it.”

“Suit yourself.”

They came to a chair.  There was a rock in it.  “What's that?” Billy Jack asked.

“Obviously a rock in chair.  Leave it alone.”

But he was already removing the rock, out of some foolish sense of the nature of chairs.  Immediately the chair tilted forward, causing him to stumble over it, and he landed sitting in it.  The chair tilted back so swiftly that he flew out of it to land in something else.  Meanwhile the chair tilted violently forward again, catching Mentia so that she, too, fell into it, and was similarly hurled back.  She found herself in an invisible swing, swinging wildly back and forth.  She felt wonderful as it swung high, and awful as it swung low.

“What is this?” Billy Jack cried as he swung past her.  “I feel great—terrible—great—terrible—“

“It's a mood swing,” Mentia said, figuring it out.  “I told you not to mess with that rock in chair!  Now it has rocked us right into trouble.”

However, she was a demoness, so didn't need to submit to the antics of warped furniture.  She dissolved into smoke and floated out of the swing.  She crossed to Billy Jack, caught on to his swing, and held it still so that he could jump out.

“You were right,” he gasped.  “It is getting stranger.”

“Just stay close to me and don't touch anything.” The forms of Threnody and Jordan were dimly visible ahead; they had probably been slowed by something similar.

They ducked past the mood swings and hurried on.  Suddenly they almost collided with a stout pillar.  It seemed ordinary except for the whiskers.

Before they could pass by it, the pillar transformed into a big cat.  “Growr!” it growled, and pounced.

Mentia became a splat of cold water.  The cat struck the water, screeched, and turned right back into the pillar.

“What—” Billy Jack asked.

“Cat or pillar, obviously.  Get out of here before it changes back.”

“This is really weird!”

“No it isn't.  We're only partway into the madness; these are fringe effects.  Let's hope we can avoid the really weird things.”

Suddenly something swept past them.  It was like a metal ball, with arms, legs, mouth, and eyes sprouting from its surface.  “Mine!” it cried, picking up the pillar.

The pillar changed back into the cat, screeching.  But the ball sprouted more arms and caught on to all its extremities.

It threw the cat into a pit.  “Mine!  Mine!” it cried.

Mentia turned cloudy and floated over the pit.  It was half filled with precious things ranging from jewels to golden coins.  It was a treasure pit.

Mentia formed a mouth in her underside.  “But what do you want with a cat?” she asked.

“It has two cat's-eye gems!” the ball replied, grabbing for the cat's eyes.  It changed hastily back into the pillar.

“What is this?” Billy Jack asked, stepping up to the edge of the pit.

“Don't get so close!” Mentia cried.

She was too late.  The edge gave way, and the man fell into the pit.  His feet came down on top of the metal ball.

Then there was an explosion.  Gems, coins, and creatures were hurled out of the pit.  Mentia jetted across to intercept Billy Jack in midflight, became a huge soft pillow, and cushioned his crash landing.

“What was that?” he asked dazedly as everything settled.

She resumed her normal form as he got off her.  “Obviously a mine.  Didn't you hear it yelling, 'Mine!  Mine!' as it collected things?  But mines are very touchy, and you made it detonate.  Now, stay out of trouble until I get you where I'm taking you!”

“I'll try,” Billy Jack said contritely.

They went on.  Now they came to a glade with a single acorn tree in it.  The tree looked healthy, but seemed to have suffered recently.  “That's Desiree's tree!” Mentia said.

“Now I know we're on course.”

“She owns the tree?” Billy Jack asked.

“Not exactly.  She's the nymph of the tree.  Hiatus should be close by.” For she had been here before; She raised her voice.  “Desiree!”

A rather pretty nymph appeared by the tree.  “Who calls me?”

“The Demoness Mentia, halfway sane.  I was here last year.”

“Why, so you were,” Desiree said, remembering.  “With the sorceress and the gargoyle and the child.  You brought me Hiatus.”

“Yes.  I'm just passing by this time.” She glanced at the man.  “This is Billy Jack, who I'm taking to see Richard White.” Then, to Billy:  “This is Desiree Dryad.  If her tree suffers, she suffers.”

“So nice to meet you,” Billy Jack said politely, evidently somewhat bemused by it all.