Geis of the Gargoyle

  “Surprise!” the tot exclaimed. Her tiny eyes crossed.

  Suddenly she was full normal six-year-old little girl sized, being awkwardly held by Gary's arms. She kissed him on the cheek. “Do you like me?”

  “Why, I don't know,” Gary said as he carefully set her down. “Are you likable?”

  “Sure, when I want to be. Are you going to be interesting or dull?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “That's interesting,” Surprise decided. “Let's go.”

  “But we can't just take you from your family,” he protested. “We have to talk to your parents first.” Then he became aware that she wasn't standing before him any more.

  “Where are you?”

  There was a giggle from somewhere. He looked around, and Iris looked around, but they couldn't spy the source of the giggle. So Gary knocked on the door again.

  The door opened. “Yes?” Rapunzel asked, as if they hadn't just met.

  “We seem to have lost your daughter,” Gary said, embarrassed.

  “Oh, that's all right. We lose her all the time. It's one of her talents.”

  “One of her—?”

  “She can't be found when she doesn't want to be found,” Rapunzel explained. “She has a number of ways to get lost.”

  “But then how can we find her?”

  “You'll just have to make her want to be found. Do you have anything that might interest her?”

  Gary was blank, but Iris came to the rescue. “I can make very interesting illusions.”

  Surprise reappeared. “You can? Let me see!”

  A miniature replica of the golems' cottage tree appeared in the air before the Sorceress, complete with tiny figures of the four of them. It looked extremely realistic.

  “Gee!” the child exclaimed. “I like it.” Her eyes crossed. And before her appeared an even smaller replica, with even tinier figures.

  Iris gaped. “But I'm the only one who can do this kind of illusion,” she protested.

  “I'm sorry,” Surprise said, and her replica vanished.

  “She just does anything she wants to,” Rapunzel said.

  “We love her, but we can't handle her. When she knocked over our club house in a fit of super-strength, we gave up and petitioned the Good Magician for relief. He said he would send a tutor. We're certainly glad to see you! Bring her back when she's under control.” She closed the door again.

  “But—” Gary began helplessly. But he realized it was futile; this was his Service to the Good Magician, and he would have to try to perform it. Despite his complete incompetence. The little girl did not seem to be mean spirited, just wild.

  “And I'm supposed to help,” Iris said morosely. “Can youth be worth it?”

  “Youth!” Surprise exclaimed, crossing her eyes. Suddenly Iris was her apparent age: six. Her clothing was piled around her, as it had not shrunk to fit—and in any event it wouldn't have fit, because the proportions were different.

  Iris took only half an instant to realize what had happened. “Surprise, restore me this instant!” she said severely.

  “Okay,” the little girl said contritely. Iris reappeared in full size. But now her collapsed clothing was bunched around her midsection, leaving her top bare. Gary had not seen a grown woman's top exposed, since assuming manform, and he found it interesting.

  “Gary, look away!” Iris screamed. “Surprise, restore my clothing too.”

  Gary started to turn away, obedient to the voice of command, but before he completed the effort the Sorceress’ clothing jumped into proper place, making it unnecessary.

  “Why didn't you just clothe yourself with illusion?” he asked as she adjusted herself.

  “I didn't think of it,” she confessed. “But this needs to be dealt with.” She addressed the child. “Surprise, you must not fool with other people. It's not nice.”

  “Why?” Surprise asked, her cute little brow furrowing in perplexity.

  “I told you: it's not nice. Promise not to do it again.”

  Surprise frowned. “But it's fun.”

  Gary realized that there was a problem, reasoning with a child. He remembered how young gargoyles were disciplined. “Because if you do it again,” he said firmly, “the Sorceress will make the illusion of a monster that looks like a—” He hesitated, not certain what would properly scare a human child. He grasped at a straw. “Like a big stone gargoyle.”

  Iris obliged by conjuring the illusion of a creature that looked just like Gary himself, before his transformation.

  He had to admire it; he had not realized what a fine specimen he was.

  Surprise stared at the gargoyle, daunted. Then she summoned her childish courage. “Aw, that doesn't scare—”

  The gargoyle opened its ponderous mottled marble mouth and spewed forth a splash of water.

  “Eeeeeek!” Surprise screamed, vanquished. “I promise! Please, no cold baths!”

  The gargoyle vanished. “That's nice,” Iris said graciously. She shot a glance of gratitude at Gary for his help.

  It was slowly becoming muddily clear why the two of them had been selected to handle this mission. They had just worked together to pass the first hurdle in bringing the wild child under control.

  But what was he supposed to tutor Surprise about? He doubted that she needed to know how to purify water, and she certainly wouldn't have the patience to sit still for a century spouting fluid from her mouth. His expertise was in no discipline that related well to the needs of a human child.

  Yet it was widely believed that the Good Magician never gave a wrong Answer, however farfetched or irrelevant it might seem initially. Gary had to hope that this was not the exception.

  “Now we had better go somewhere,” Iris said. “I don't think this child's folks want her back until she has been, um, properly tutored.”

  “The Good Magician said to take her with me on my quest to find a philter,” Gary said. “So we might as well get started.”

  “A philter?” Iris inquired. “What for?”

  “To purify all the water of Xanth, so that there won't be any more pollution from Mundania.”

  Iris glanced significantly at Surprise. “Maybe someone could find or make that philter for you.”

  “What's a filter?” Surprise asked.

  “Then again, maybe not,” Iris concluded.

  “The Good Magician also said that Hiatus would know where it was, I think.”

  “Hiatus? The brother of Lacuna?” she asked sharply. “I remember those two mischievous tots! They were completely empty of responsibility; it was just one lapse after another. Do you know what they did at the wedding of Humfrey and the Gorgon?”

  “No,” Gary admitted. “Was it interesting?”

  “It was outrageous. They used their talents to entirely disrupt the ceremony. They—”

  “Gee,” the child said, interested.

  Iris glanced again at Surprise, and evidently changed her mind. Gary understood why: the child was too apt to imitate any talent anyone mentioned. “Well, that's irrelevant.

  No doubt Hiatus has matured some in the interim. It has been a number of years. We shall have to enlist his assistance in your quest.”

  “Yes. But I don't know where to find him.”

  “He's probably at Castle Zombie. If not, the Zombie Master or Millie the Ghost will know where to find him.”

  “There's a ghost among the zombies?” Gary asked.

  “A ghost!” Surprise exclaimed. Her eyes crossed. A human-sized translucent spook appeared before the three of them, with dark holes for eyes and a boo-shaped mouth.

  Iris paused. “Harmless,” she murmured. “Ignore it.”

  The ghost actually seemed as surprised by them as they were by it. In a moment it floated away, somewhat out of sorts. Gary realized that this was probably the best course, when feasible: to ignore Surprise's magic tricks. “Castle Zombie?”

  “I know where it is. But it's a long walk from here. I wish we had a carpet to ride t
here.”

  “Carpet!” the child said, and a carpet appeared, with several socks on it.

  Iris looked at it. “Where did this come from?”

  “Mundania,” Surprise said.

  “The talent of summoning things from Mundania,” Iris said, pretending a calmness she probably didn't feel. “A rug, with whatever happened to be on it. This surely explains why Mundanes are always losing their socks. But this isn't what I was thinking of, dear.”

  “Oh.” The carpet and socks vanished. “What did you mean?”

  “Why a magic carpet, of course.” Then Iris caught herself. “But don't—”

  “Magic carpet!” Surprise exclaimed brightly as her eyes crossed. A carpet appeared, floating at about knee level.

  “Can we trust it?” Gary asked warily.

  Iris peered closely at it. “This seems to be the Good Magician's carpet; I recognize it. It is quite trustworthy. But we should return it—after we're done with it.” She sat on the edge of the carpet, and it bowed down a bit with her weight, then firmed in place. She lifted her legs, swung them onto the carpet, and tucked her skirt closely around them. “Get on. I'll hold you. Surprise.”

  Gary climbed onto the back of the carpet and drew up his knees in the manner Iris had. His impulse had been to crouch on it, gargoyle style, but this human form just wasn't suited for that. The little girl sat on the woman's lap, approximately, and his held her in place with her arms.

  “Carpet, rise slowly,” Iris commanded it. The carpet responded, lifting somewhat in the manner of the elevator, until it floated above the trees. Gary wondered what it would have done if she hadn't cautioned it to be slow.

  They might have slid off the back as it zoomed forward.

  “Carpet, proceed in moderate manner to Castle Zombie,” Iris said. And the carpet turned and moved smoothly south.

  Gary had never been partial to heights, because a bad fall could crack stone, but discovered that he felt secure on the carpet. Its magic held him in place without confining him, so there was no danger of falling off. He saw the trees passing below, and then the Gap Chasm, and then more trees, with crisscrossing paths through the forest and occasional fields. Xanth was interesting, viewed from above. He tried to spy where they had walked before, but couldn't see the invisible bridge, and wasn't sure which particular trails were the ones. He couldn't even be sure which particular jag from the Gap they had crossed, after dumping the Blatant Beaste. But it was fun looking.

  Before long a castle came into view ahead. It looked somewhat slimy, and its stones were greenish, and its moat was clogged with gook. Obviously this was Castle Zombie.

  They landed before the drawbridge and got off. “Carpet, go home,” Iris told it, and the carpet took off smoothly without riders, spiraled into the sky, and headed northeast.

  “That was a useful thing to summon,” Iris informed Surprise. “When all your magic is that helpful to others, you will be ready to go home.”

  “But I was starting to get bored,” Surprise said, pouting.

  Gary realized that the ride had been more chancy than it had felt. If she had done some mischief, such as summoning a basilisk to join them on the rug, it would have become dangerously interesting. This adventure probably had most of its complications still ahead.

  Iris took the child's hand and marched forward across the decrepit planking of the drawbridge. Gary hesitated, uncertain whether it would support the weight of stone.

  Iris glanced back, saw him—and abruptly the drawbridge assumed the look of a fine stout iron and stone bridge. He knew it was illusion, but it helped. He followed them across.

  A zombie guard challenged them at the portcullis.

  “Whoo?” he demanded, moving his rotting arms to bring a rotting spear into play.

  “Gee,” Surprise said, thrilled. “A real zombie.”

  “Let me handle this, dear,” Iris murmured quickly.

  Then, to the guard: “Queen Emeritus Sorceress Iris to see Millie the Ghost.”

  In a moment a surprisingly appealing older woman came out. “Iris?” she asked. “You don't look like—”

  “Like this, Millie?” Iris asked, clothing herself with illusion so as to appear her real age.

  “Iris!” Millie exclaimed. “It is you! What a wonderful surprise. I thought you had gone to a fade-out party.”

  “I did, along with Magician Trent, Bink, Chameleon, Crombie, and Jewel the Nymph. But there was a complication.”

  “There must have been,” Millie said. “Come in, and we'll catch up on everything. Who is your friend? And you have a child with you, too!”

  They joined Millie, who was clearly no ghost, in her nice apartment, which was free of the rot elsewhere in the castle. Surprise played with a zombie werewolf, changing forms herself to match him. That seemed to be as good a diversion as any, so Gary and Iris studiously ignored it.

  Iris quickly explained about how their fade-out party, which had been intended to see them fade gracefully from the current Xanth scene so it wouldn't be cluttered by too many old folk, had been postponed. Gloha Goblin-Harpy was on a quest in search of a suitable husband, she being the only crossbreed of her kind, so Magician Trent had been designated to help and protect her until she found her man. Since ninety-six was too old for adventure, he had been youthened, and his subsequent story of that adventure had convinced her to try it too. So now she was performing her service for the youthening by helping Gary Gargoyle tutor Surprise. “But we need to consult with Hiatus,” she concluded. “We hoped he would be here.”

  “Oh, he is,” Millie said somewhat sadly. “But he lacks ambition in life. Something is missing; there's no continuity. I'm not sure how much help he will be to you.”

  Iris pursed her lips. “The Good Magician's ploys act in devious ways,” she said. “Do you suppose that we represent some kind of encouragement for him?”

  “I wonder,” Millie said, turning hopeful. “I really fear there is no cure for him, but it would be wonderful if he were to take an interest in marrying and having grandchildren, the way his sister Lacuna did, after suffering emptiness in her life. At least you can talk with him.”

  “At least we can,” Iris agreed. Gary wondered what Hiatus' problem was, and hoped it wouldn't make it impossible for him to help them find the philter.

  Millie sent a zombie to call Hiatus. Soon he appeared: a tousle-haired man nearing forty, looking morose. Millie introduced the others, except for Surprise, who was conjuring miniature zombie animals and setting them to running around the floor; by mutual silent consent they let her be. “Perhaps you should tell them your story, dear,” Millie suggested in a kindly tone.

  “Are they interested?” Hiatus asked listlessly.

  Gary knew that the man would never be of any use in the quest if they didn't understand his problem. “Yes.”

  So Hiatus sat in the remaining chair and began to speak.

  Chapter 4

  HIATUS

  I was a wild child, and my twin sister Lacuna was mischievous, and together we drove our mother wild. She was Millie the Ghost, who was a ghost no more but preferred that title to “Zombie.” None of us were zombies, of course, but she was the wife and we were the children of the Zombie Master, so folk tended to assume that we had at least some zombie ooze in us. The truth was that Millie was one of Xanth's most lovely women, or had been before my sister and I wore her down. We were a severe interruption to the steady course of her current life, and we disrupted whatever we encountered.

  Lacuna's talent was to form print on anything, such as walls or blankets or even to superimpose it on existing print, changing the text of a printed page. Of course her print faded out when she lost her concentration, doing no harm, but it could be quite mischievous on occasion. Such as when she made the words KICK ME form on the rear end of a fat man as he bent to pick up a heavy rock, in the presence of a literal-minded zombie. My talent was to grow temporary organs on various surfaces, such as eyes, ears, or noses, on windows, treet
runks, or rocks. I never quite understood why some adults got so upset when one of my noses sprouted and sniffed audibly as they walked by, or when one of my eyes formed on the ceiling or floor and peered down a lady's blouse or up under her skirt and winked. It was just good clean fun. But somehow Lacuna and I were not too popular at formal occasions like weddings or funerals. Today I can appreciate why—but today I am considerably more experienced and responsible than I was as a child.

  I don't remember exactly what it was I did on the particular day I'm thinking of, but I'm sure in retrospect that my mother was justified in screeching me out of the house and slamming the door. I was then eleven or twelve years old, and thought that all Xanth owed me entertainment.

  Outraged by her overreaction to an innocent prank, I decided to run away from home. So I called Doofus, our zombie dragon, and climbed on his back and told him to gallop as far away as he could. Doofus wasn't smart—few zombies are, because their heads are filled mostly with disgusting goo—but his legs and back were strong, so he galloped off in the direction he happened to be facing at the time, which was sloppily southeast. I didn't care; I just wanted to get so far away that I could never be found.

  But after a time Doofus began to slow. “What, are you getting tired already?” I demanded. He just snorted some soggy smoke. I realized that he was under standing orders not to go too far from Castle Zombie, so as he approached the limit of his territory, he lost momentum. I could not override those orders, for they had been impressed on him by my father the Zombie Master himself, and all zombies owed their ultimate allegiance to him. Doofus obeyed me only so long as my directives did not conflict with those that were more deeply entrenched.

  Finally the dragon stopped entirely. Disgusted, I got off him. “All right, go home then, you rotten creature!” I yelled. He obeyed immediately, and galloped off in the approximate direction of home.

  I was left alone in a strange forest. I looked around, my anger fading into something like apprehension. I knew that strange places were dangerous. All I saw were trees, and some rocks and rolls, each rock rolling around and banging into things so that there was a series of loud sounds as each roll rocked with the vibrations. Well, that was better than nothing; I went to grab one of the rolls, being hungry.