Marrow Bones also slid off. "But you don't need to risk yourself this way," Trent protested to the skeleton.
"Yes I do," Marrow replied.
Trent didn't argue. Graeboe withdrew his hand and watched from a reasonable distance. He would never say so, of course, but he was tired from carrying the two, small as they were, and needed to rest. What mischief this downward-spiraling ailment was!
Trent cast about on the roof, and found a tiny beetle-bug. He transformed this into a saw-fish. Marrow picked up the fish, for its serrated edges weren't as hard on his hands as they were on flesh. He carried it to the locked roof door. He put the fish's saw-toothed nose to the edge of the door frame, held it firmly, and let it saw through the frame and into the door itself. The fish sawed right around the locking mechanism, and when that fell out, the door could be opened. Then Trent transformed the fish back to a bug and returned it to the place he had found it. Graeboe found that interesting; the Magician was taking pains to do no unnecessary mischief, even to incidental bugs.
The two went into the castle. Graeboe traced their progress as they passed by the upper windows. They were in an unused wing, and there was another locked door between it and the main castle. So Marrow had to go back to fetch the beetle-bug, for transformation again, because it seemed that there were no bugs Inside the castle. It appeared to be a sterile place.
"Hey, get a load of Veleno," Metria said in his ear, startling him. "He's headed up to the high turret with a costume."
Graeboe shifted position, trying to orient on the man. Night was looming, and lights were illuminating the castle. No one turned them on; they just did it, glowing in every room. In fact there seemed to be no servants or defenders in the castle. It was empty, except for Veleno and the captive nymphs. It seemed to run itself automatically. Since the demons had made it, according to Metria, they didn't bother with human servitors. There seemed to be a few pie trees growing in the central courtyard, which probably provided Veleno with his daily nourishment, and that was about it. It was a self-sufficient castle.
At least the lights made it easier to see what was going on inside, while Veleno couldn't see Graeboe outside, if he cared. The castle wasn't made of glass, but might as well have been in some sections, because of the view through the upper windows. Only the bottom story was completely opaque.
Veleno went on up to the turret chamber while Trent and Marrow were making their way past the second locked door. The man didn't seem to be aware of the intrusion. Maybe he had lived so long in this secure castle that it didn't occur to him that any invasion was possible. He came at last to the chamber. Graeboe put his ear down close so that he could overhear what was said.
"I have brought you a wedding dress in your size, so you can marry me in proper style," Veleno informed her.
"I told you before, I'm not marrying you," Gloha retorted. "My friends are about to rescue me from your fell clutches."
"No one can rescue you here. This castle is invincible to mortals. Now take this dress, put it on, and come down to the main chamber so that we can be married."
"What is it with you?" she demanded incredulously. "I just told you that I won't marry you. Aren't you listening?"
Veleno frowned. "You are a real girl, not a nymph," he said. "Therefore you can remember from day to day. That means that our marriage will not automatically dissolve tomorrow. At last I shall have fulfilled the requirement, and I shall know love, and be able to go home."
"You said all that before," she reminded him. "And I said before that I wouldn't do it. I am no nymph, and I'll never marry you. Now take back your stupid dress and let me go, and I'll just forget about this and go my way."
Graeboe shook his head. What a lovely little spirited creature she was! She wasn't taking any guff from her captor.
"If you don't come down and marry me," Veleno said evenly, "I shall bring you no food. Since you are real, you must eat. I think that when you get hungry enough, you will agree that it is better to be married and eat."
"You're trying to starve me into marrying you?" she demanded, aghast.
"Yes. Now are you ready?"
"No!"
"I regret this," Veleno said. "I had hoped to have a pleasant evening of consummation. But I suppose I can wait." He set down the dress between the bars of the door.
"Consummation!" Gloha cried. "Never!" She stamped her fine little foot for emphasis.
Graeboe sighed with admiration. Gloha did not buckle under pressure. And soon she would be rescued, so her resistance would indeed save her the grief of an unkind marriage.
Veleno went back down the stair. Metria appeared before him. "She'll never marry you, you clod of dragon dung," she said triumphantly.
"What are you, a rogue demoness?" he demanded. "Get out of my way." And he walked right through her.
Metria's face showed fury, but she stifled her retort. She couldn't affect Veleno or the castle, being unreal to them except in appearance. So she popped up to Gloria's chamber. "You told him," she said. "Good for you, goblin girl."
"I am getting hungry," Gloha confessed. "I haven't eaten anything since those colored popcorns."
"You'll be rescued soon. Trent and Marrow are making their way into the castle."
"Oh, that's such a relief to know," Gloha said. "I'm frightened of that man Veleno. I'm afraid he might-"
"Afraid of what?" the demoness asked.
"That he might try to-to consummate even without marriage."
"I hadn't thought of that," Metria said. "I suppose he might." She faded thoughtfully out.
Graeboe felt a surge of anger at the demoness. Instead of reassuring Gloha, she had made her feel worse. Demons had no human feelings, and it showed.
Meanwhile Marrow and Trent were sawing through the second door. But by the time they succeeded, Veleno was downstairs again, well out of hearing. Had he heard them, and come to investigate, Trent could have transformed him, making the rescue much easier.
Well, now they could go on in and up to the turret chamber, where Trent could transform Gloha into something small enough to get out of her cell. Then he could transform her back to her normal nice form, and she could fly away.
The two came to a third locked door, blocking a passage that ran beside an outer wall. Marrow turned back to fetch the bug again, but this time another door swung closed behind him, preventing him from getting there. The bars were too closely set to allow Marrow to get his skull through, just as Metria had said.
"Uh-oh," Trent murmured mildly.
Graeboe echoed the sentiment. In fact, the two of them were trapped, and couldn't get free because there was nothing to transform into a useful tool. The castle had outsmarted them, in its passive way.
"You could kick me, and I could assume another configuration," Marrow suggested.
"But your skull still would not be able to get out, and without it, the rest of your body could not function independently," Trent pointed out.
"True. I regret being inadequate to the occasion."
Metria appeared. "Now what picklement have you boys gotten yourselves into?" she demanded.
"We acted stupidly," Trent said mildly. "We are paying the price of our folly."
Metria reached up and tore two hanks of her hair out. "How can a mere stupid castle defeat us all?" she demanded rhetorically. "I'm just a soulless demoness, but I expected better of you, Magician." She let go of the torn hanks, and they dissolved into smoke and rejoined her body.
"You are right to be annoyed," Trent said, even more mildly.
Graeboe knew it was time for him to act. He leaned toward the just-formed cell. "Transform me, Magician," he said. "Make me be something small enough to get inside the castle, and large enough to be of some help."
Trent nodded. "I will render you into a mouse, so as to get in here, and then an elf so as to be able to search out a set of keys to unlock the doors."
Graeboe reached for the cell, his finger touching the bars outside. Magician Trent reached thro
ugh and touched him, pinching his skin in tiny fashion. Then suddenly Graeboe was a mouse, dangling by one foot from Trent's pinched fingers.
Trent brought him inside before he could fall, and set him on the floor. Graeboe tried to walk, and discovered that he had to coordinate four feet instead of two. So he walked carefully on hands and feet, and that worked. He went somewhat awkwardly to the door that barred the way to the forward passage. He slipped through, then turned around to face the Magician. This was the first time he had been transformed, and it was a weird experience.
Worse, it was a depleting experience. Graeboe felt weaker than ever. He hadn't thought of this complication; how weak could he get, and still be able to function? He wouldn't be any help if he couldn't move around sensibly.
The Magician's huge hand came down. Was this the way that he, the giant, appeared to ordinary folk? That hand could squish him in an instant! Then Graeboe found himself in the body of an elf. He was even dressed like an elf. That was just as well; he would not have wanted to appear naked. That was powerful magic the Magician had.
But he was also staggeringly weak. The second transformation had taken another dollop of energy from his meager supply. He had to grab onto the bars to keep from falling.
"Graeboe," Marrow said solicitously. "Are you in discomfort?"
"No, just very weak," Graeboe said weakly. "I-I fear I am not up to another transformation."
"I did not realize," Trent said. "I would not have transformed you, had I known it would hurt you. I apologize."
"Not hurt-just weakened," Graeboe gasped. "I will proceed in a moment."
"But I may have taken days away from your remaining life," Trent said. "That was not a kind thing to do."
"A few days hardly matter. Just so long as I am able to accomplish my purpose, and get you and Gloha free."
Trent and Marrow exchanged a glance, but did not remark on the situation further. "Rest," Trent suggested. "Recover some strength. Then Metria will show you where the castle keys are."
Graeboe rested, and after a bit he did feel slightly more stable, or at least acclimatized to his new form and state of energy depletion. "I am ready," he said.
Metria appeared. "Follow me," she said, and walked down the passage.
Graeboe tried, but with the first stride he fell against the wall. He pushed himself upright and took a tottering step before falling against the wall again.
"Oh for pity's sake," the demoness said, disgusted. "Can't you move any better than that? We'll be all night."
"He is weak from his ailment and the recent transformations," Trent called. "It behooves you to be more understanding."
"Why?" she asked, beginning to fuzz into smoke. "Because it would make you emulate the attitude of a person with a soul, who is capable of love."
The smoke froze in mid-swirl. "Understanding would help me grasp love?" Then the smoke resumed swirling, and the demoness reappeared. "Say, I heard myself just then. I do need to practice understanding. Very well; I'll try. What do I do now?"
"Were I standing where you are," Trent said mildly, "I would try to help him to move, by lending what physical and verbal support I could."
She considered that. Then she walked across to the elf. "Let me help you," she said. "I'm sure you can accomplish your task with a little encouragement and support." Graeboe remembered that he was the elf. He had halfway disassociated, listening to their dialogue. It was strange being so small! "Thank you," he agreed.
She put one arm out to support him. But she was normal human size, while he was elf size: one-quarter her height. So her hand barely reached down to his head.
"Hm," she said. Then she swirled into smoke again, and reappeared as an elf girl. He was surprised at how pretty she was in that form. But of course she could assume any form she chose, and her demonly vanity encouraged her to be attractively packaged. She reached out to put one arm around his waist and drew him in snug. "Come on, hold on to me," she said. "We've got to get moving-I mean, I'm sure you will be more comfortable that way."
He put his arm around her lovely slim and supple waist. This was certainly more comfortable, but perhaps not in quite the way she intended. They walked together, down the passage and around a corner, and when he faltered, she drew him in yet more snugly. He found his hand crossing a region it probably shouldn't.
"Oh, this isn't working," she said in a flash of impatience.
"I apologize," he said. "I did not mean to touch-"
"Oh, I don't care where you touch me," she snapped. "You're of age, aren't you? You can even see my panties, if you want to." Her clothing fogged out, leaving her nymphly naked except for a bright pink panty on which his hand now rested. "I mean this is too slow. I'll just carry you."
She smoked, and his hand fell right through her naughty panty and whatever flesh might be beneath it. Then she reformed in full human size, and his hand was resting on her shapely calf. She reached down to pick him up in her arms. Now his body was wedged against her large soft bosom. "Onward," she said, and marched swiftly down the passage.
Graeboe decided not to protest. The truth was that he had not had much experience with women, whether of the giant, human, or demon persuasion, and was somewhat at a loss about the protocol. So he let his weak head rest against her pleasantly soft bosom and let her take him where she chose. There were, he concluded, worse ways to travel, and this was probably the only occasion he would have to experience this mode before he died.
Metria carried him swiftly down to the ground floor, evidently having familiarized herself with the castle. She could walk firmly enough on its floors; she just couldn't affect it in any way. Since he was not part of the castle, she could affect him, and that was fortunate. He doubted that he could have walked this far alone.
Along the way they passed many cells, and in most of these were nymphs. "Oh please, kind folk, let us out!" the nymphs cried to them. "We know not how we came here, or what will become of us. We live only to cavort and be happy, but we are not happy here."
"We've got to free these poor creatures!" Graeboe said. "Why?" the demoness asked.
She really didn't understand! "Because shallow as they may be, they do not deserve to be penned unhappily," he said carefully. "Every creature should be allowed to live its own life in its own way, so long as it does not interfere with the lives of others."
"Well, I'm looking for love, and this doesn't reference."
"Doesn't what?"
"Pertain, associate, connect, attach, belong, apply-"
"Relate?"
"Whatever," she agreed crossly.
"Yes, it does relate," he insisted. "Love is not simply the feeling of one person for one of the opposite sex. It is a generalized condition applying to the whole of existence. Only a person who is sensitive to the welfare of others in general is capable of truly loving any one other person."
"But isn't that a whole lot of trouble?"
"Sometimes it is. But that is a liability of the condition of being a person who can love and be loved."
"So if I cared what happens to those stupid nymphs, I could love a man?"
"I think the two are linked, yes. Because you are inhuman and lack love, you care neither about the plight of others nor about any particular man."
She was silent, evidently thinking it over.
They came to a small chamber just inside the main door where there was a hook, and on the hook hung a ring with a single key: the key to the castle. Veleno probably took it with him when he went out, or when he went to lock up a nymph, and kept it here between times.
Metria set Graeboe down. He reached for the key, but it was too high. Metria reached for it, impatiently, but her hand passed right through it. "Oh, stink horns!" she swore. "I keep forgetting." Then she put her hands under Graeboe's shoulders and lifted him up so that he could get the key.
It was heavy, but not too much for him to handle. He got the key ring down. "Now we must go free Trent, Marrow, and Gloha," he said, pleased. "Thank you,
Metria."
"Why bother thanking me?" she asked. "I'm only helping you because Trent told me to try to be understanding."
"Because I am a living, feeling creature, capable of love, and I appreciate being helped," he explained. "Especially in my extremities of diminished size and strength."
"You mean I have to act wimpish, if I want to learn love?" she asked indignantly.
He smiled. "No. Just have feelings, and show them on occasion."
"I have feelings. I get impatient with slow humans all the time, and I think it's funny when they mess up. And I love tantalizing them with my body." Her torso became wrapped in a bright, very tight red dress whose décolletage seemed to cover only the outer quadrants of her bulging breasts and whose short skirt had to struggle valiantly to keep her panties out of sight. She took a breath. "See? Your eyes are bugging."
Graeboe blinked, getting his eyes back into shape. "True. You craft a most impressive body. I compliment you on that."
She paused. "How would a feeling person react to that remark?"
"She would turn just the mere suggestion of a shade of pink, cast down her gaze demurely, and say 'Thank you' as if it were a matter of little importance. Inside, she would be pleased at the compliment. At least such is my judgment based on my limited observation of the gender."
The demoness turned a faint shade of pink, looked down demurely, and said "Thank you." Then she looked up again. "Like that?"
"Exactly. You learn very quickly."
She turned another faint shade of pink, looked down again, and repeated "Thank you."
Letter-perfect-and still without true feeling. Graeboe decided not to make an issue of the matter. "We had better get moving." He stepped out of the chamber, having recovered a bit of strength.
The nymphs in the nearest cells spied them. "Oh please let us out!" they chorused pitifully.
Graeboe hesitated. It would be unkind to leave them locked up, but if he took time to free them, the delay might prevent him from freeing his friends. He compromised. "I will return for you, as soon as I have accomplished my business," he told them.