The figure spread his wings, orienting on him. "And what ilk be ye, man-thing?"
"I am Magician Dor. I have freed you from storage."
The harpy glanced an imperial glance at him. "Show your power."
Dor picked up a fallen harpy feather. "What is the age of the Prince?" he inquired. "Exclusive of storage time."
"The Prince is twelve years old," the feather answered.
"Why, that's my age!" Dor exclaimed.
"You'll sure be a giant when you get your full growth!" the feather said.
The Prince cut in. "Very well. I accept your status, and will deal with ye. I am Prince Harold. What is it ye crave of me?"
"You are the only male harpy alive today," Dor said. "You must go forth and claim your crown, to preserve your species. I charge you with two things only: do not cohabit with any but your own kind, and give to me the counterspell to the curse your people put on the goblins."
The Prince drew himself up with hauteur. "One favor ye did me, yet ye presume to impose on me for two favors! I need no stricture of cohabitation for when I come of age--not when I have the entire world of harpies to build my harem from. As to this spell, I know naught of it."
"It happened after your exile. You can discover its nature from your subjects."
"I shall do so," the harpy said. "An I discover it, I shall provide the counter as your recompense."
Dor conducted the Prince to King Roogna, who did a polite double take as he observed the harpy's gender. "Rare magic indeed!" he murmured.
"We must release Prince Harold Harpy to his kind without mishap," Dor told the King. The harpies will have no need to fight, once they have him."
"I see," the King said. He glanced obliquely at Magician Murphy, standing beside him. "We shall declare an absolute cease-fire until he is free, I shall walk the ramparts myself, to be sure that nothing goes wrong."
"You may manage to free the harpy," Murphy said grimly. "But my curse will have its impact elsewhere. You have not prevailed." But he looked tired; his talent was evidently under severe strain. No single Magician, however gifted, could stand forever against the power of three. Dor was almost sorry for him.
"But we're getting there," Roogna said. He escorted the Prince to the wall, cautioning the centaurs not to fire at the harpy. Prince Harold spread his pinions and launched into the sky.
There was a screech of sheerest amazement from the nearest female. Then the harpies swarmed to the Prince. For an awful moment Dor feared they had mistaken him, and would tear him to pieces; but they had instantly recognized his nature. They lost all interest in the goblin war. In moments the entire swarm had flapped away, leaving the goblins nothing to fight except a few tired vampires.
Then a lone female harpy winged back from the flock. A centaur whistled. "Helen!" Dor cried, recognizing her.
"By order of Prince Harold," Helen said. "The counterspell." She deposited a pebble in his hand. She winked. "Too bad you didn't take your opportunity when you had it, handsome man; you will never have another. I used the ring you gave me to wish for the finest possible match, and now I am to be first concubine to the Prince." She tapped her ringed claw.
Things evidently happened fast among the harpies; it had been only a few minutes since the Prince mounted the sky. "Good for you," Dor said.
"I knew I could do it," the ring replied, thinking Dor had addressed it. "I can do anything!"
She glanced down at it "Oh, so you're talking again!"
"It will be silent hereafter," Dor said. "Thank you for the counterspell."
"It's the least I could do for you," she said, inhaling. The centaurs goggled.
Then Heavenly Helen spread her pretty wings and was away, with all males on the parapet staring after her, and even a few of the healthier zombies were admiring her form. There were covert glances at Dor, as people wondered what he had done to attract the attention of so remarkable a creature.
Dor was satisfied. Helen had, in true harpy fashion, snatched her opportunity. And who could tell: maybe the wish ring really had had something to do with it.
Dor turned his attention to the pebble spell. "How are you invoked?" he asked it.
"I am not invoked; I am revoked," it replied. "I am not a counterspell, I am the original spell. When I am revoked, the enchantment abates."
"How are you revoked, then?"
"You just heat me to fire temperature, and my magic pours out invisibly until it is all gone."
Dor handed the pebble to the King. "That should abate the goblin complaint. With no further reason to fight, the goblins should go home. Then Murphy's curse can't make the battle continue here."
"You are phenomenal, Magician!" King Roogna said. "You have used your mind instead of your body, in a truly regal manner." He hurried away with the pebble spell.
The King cooked the goblin spell according to the directive, but no change in the goblin horde was apparent. Yet he was not dismayed. "The original spell was subtle," he explained. "It caused the goblin females to be negatively selective. The damage has been done to the goblins over the course of many generations. It will take many more generations to reverse. The females are not here on the battlefield, so the males do not even know of the change yet. So we do not see its effect immediately, or benefit from it ourselves, but still the job is worth doing. We are not trying merely to preserve Castle Roogna; we are building a better Land of Xanth." He waved a hand cheerfully. "Evening is upon us; we must go to our repast and sleep, while the zombies keep watch. I believe victory is at last coming into sight."
It did look that way. Magician Murphy looked glum indeed. Dor, suddenly tired, ate perfunctorily, fell on the bed provided in the completed section of the Castle, and slept soundly. In the morning he woke to discover the Zombie Master on an adjacent bed, and Magician Murphy on another. Everyone was tired, and there was as yet very little space within the Castle.
The goblins had largely dispersed in the night, leaving their copious dead in the field. The zombies remained on guard. The centaurs had resumed their building labors, no longer needed for the defense of the Castle. Now it did seem likely that Castle Roogna would be completed on schedule.
A buffet breakfast was being served in the dining hall, amid the clods of earth, stray pieces of zombies, and discarded weapons. King Roogna was there, and Magician Murphy, and Vadne and Jumper and Dor. Murphy had little appetite; he seemed almost as gaunt as the Zombie Master.
"Frankly I think we have it in hand," the King said. "Will you not relinquish with grace, Murphy?"
"There remains yet one aspect of the curse," Murphy said. "Should it fail, then I am done, and will retire. But I must hold on until it manifests."
"Fair enough," Roogna said. "I hung on when it seemed your curse had prevailed. Indeed, had not young Dor arrived with his friend--"
"Surely nothing I did really affected the outcome," Dor said uneasily. For there, ultimately, could be Murphy's victory.
"You still feel that what you do is invalid?" the King inquired. "We can readily have the verification of that. I have a magic mirror somewhere--"
"No, I--" But the King in his gratitude was already on his way to locate the mirror.
"Perhaps it is time we verified this," Murphy said. "Your involvement, Dor, has become so pervasive and intricate that it becomes difficult to see how it can be undone. I may have been mistaken in my conjecture. Was my curse opposing you also?"
"I believe it was," Dor said. "Things kept going wrong--"
"Then you must have validity, for otherwise my curse would not care. In fact, if your efforts lacked validity, my curse might even have promoted them, so that they played a larger part in the false success. If the King depended on you instead of on his own--"
"But how can I change my own--" Dor glanced at Vadne, then shrugged. He could not remember whether she knew about him now or did not. What did it matter, so long as Millie remained innocent? "My own past?"
"I do not know," Murphy said. "I had though
t that would be a paradox, therefore invalid. Yet there are aspects of magic no man can fathom. I may have made a grievous error, and thereby cost myself the victory. Is the Gap forgotten in your day?"
"Yes."
They mulled that over for a while, chewing on waffles from the royal waffle tree. Then Murphy said: "It could be that spots of history can be rechanneled, so long as the end result is the same. If King Roogna is fated to win, it may not matter how he does it, or what agencies assist. So your own involvement may be valid, yet changes nothing. You are merely filling a role that some other party filled in your absence."
"Could be," Dor agreed. He glanced about. The others seemed interested in the discussion, except for Vadne, who was withdrawn. Something about that bothered him, but he couldn't place it.
"At any rate, we shall soon know. My power has been stretched to its limit," Murphy continued. "If I do not achieve the victory this day, I shall be helpless. I do not know exactly what form my curse will take, but it is in operation now, and I think will prove devastating. The issue remains in doubt."
The King returned with his mirror. "Let me see--how shall I phrase this?" he said to himself. "Mirror queries have to rhyme. That was built into them by the Magician who made this type of glass. Ah." He set it on the floor. "Mirror, mirror, on the floor--can we trust ourselves to Dor?"
"Corny," Murphy muttered.
The forepart of a handsome centaur appeared in the mirror. "That signifies affirmative," Roogna said. "The hind part is the negative."
"But many centaurs are far handsomer in the hind part," Dor pointed out.
"Why not simply ask it which side will prevail?" Murphy suggested wryly.
"I doubt that will work," the King said. "Because if its answer affects our actions, that would be paradox. And since we have been dealing with very strong magic, it could be beyond the mirror's limited power of resolution."
"Oh, let's discover the answer for ourselves," Murphy said. "We have fought it through this far, we might as well finish it properly."
"Agreed," Roogna said.
They ate more waffles, pouring on maple syrup from a rare maple tree. Unlike other magic beverage trees, the maple issued its syrup only a drop at a time, and it was dilute, so that a lot of the water had to be boiled off to make it thick enough for use. This made the syrup a special delicacy. In fact, maple trees no longer existed in Xanth in Dor's day. Maybe they had been overlapped, and thus this most magical species had ironically gone the way of most mundane trees.
The Zombie Master came in. Vadne perked up. "Come sit by me," she invited.
But he was not being sociable. "Where is Millie the maid, my fiancée?"
The others exchanged perplexed glances. "I assumed she was with you," Dor said.
"No. I worked late last night, and it would not be meet for such as she to keep my company unchaperoned. I sent her to bed."
"You didn't do that at your own castle," Dor pointed out.
"We were not then engaged. After the betrothal, we kept company only in company."
Dor thought of asking about the journey from the zombie castle to Castle Roogna, which had had at least one night on the road. But he refrained; it seemed the Zombie Master had conservative notions about propriety, and honored them rigidly.
"She has not been to breakfast," the King said. "She must be sleeping late."
"I called at her door, but she did not answer," the Zombie Master said.
"Maybe she's sick," Dor suggested, and immediately regretted his directness, for the Zombie Master jumped as if stung.
The King interceded smoothly. "Vadne, check Millie's room."
The neo-Sorceress departed. Soon she was back. "Her room is empty."
Now the Zombie Master was really upset. "What has happened to her?"
"Do not be concerned," Vadne said consolingly. "Perhaps she became weary of Castle life and returned to her stockade. I will be happy to assist you during her absence."
But he would not be consoled. "She is my fiancée's I must find her!"
"Here, let me query the mirror," the King said. "What's a rhyme for Maid?"
"Shade," Murphy said.
"Thank you, Magician," the King said. He propped the mirror in a niche in the wall where it was in shadow. "Mirror, mirror, in the shade, tell us what happened to--"
Dor's chair thunked on the floor as he craned forward to see the picture about to form. The mirror slipped from its perch and fell. It cracked in two, and was useless.
The Zombie Master stared at it. "Murphy's curse!" he exclaimed. "Why should it prevent us from locating the maid?" He turned angrily on Murphy.
Magician Murphy spread his hands. "I do not know, sir. I assure you I have no onus against your fiancée. She strikes me as a most appealing young woman."
"She strikes everyone that way," Vadne said. "Her talent is--"
"Do not denigrate her to me!" the Zombie Master shouted. "It was only in gratitude to her that I agreed to soil my hands with politics! If anything happens to her--"
He broke off, and there was a pregnant silence. Suddenly the nature of the final curse was coming clear to them all. Without Millie, the Zombie Master had no reason to support the King, and Castle Roogna would then lose its major defensive force. Anything could happen to further interrupt its construction--and would. Murphy would win.
Yet the harpies and goblins were gone, Dor thought Did anything remain that could really threaten the Castle? And he realized with horror that one thing did: the zombies themselves. They now controlled Castle Roogna. If they turned against the King--
"It seems your curse has struck with extreme precision," King Roogna said, evidently recognizing the implication. The issue was indeed in doubt! "We must find Millie quickly, and I fear that will not be easy."
"It was my chair that jolted the mirror," Dor said, stricken. "It's my fault!"
"Do not blame yourself," Murphy said. "The curse strikes in the readiest manner, much as water seeks the lowest channel. You have simply been used."
"Well, then, I'll find her!" Dor cried. "I'm a Magician, same as you are." He looked about. "Wall, where is she?"
"Don't ask me," the wall said. "She hasn't been here in the dining hall since last night."
Dor marched out into the hall, the others trailing after him. "Floor, when was she last here?"
"Last night after supper," the floor said. Neither wall nor floor elected to be difficult about details; they knew whom Dor meant, and recognized his mood, and gave him no trouble.
Dor traced Millie's whereabouts randomly, pacing the halls. A problem became apparent: Millie, like the others, had moved about considerably during the evening, and the walls, floors and limited furnishings were not able to distinguish all the comings and goings. It was a trail that crossed and recrossed itself, so that the point of exit could not be determined. Millie had been here at the time the Zombie Master sent her to bed--and not thereafter. She had not arrived at her own room. Where had she gone?
"The front gate--see whether she left the Castle," the King suggested.
Dor doubted Millie would depart like that--not voluntarily. But he queried the front gate. She had not exited there. He checked the ramparts. She had not gone there. In fact she had gone nowhere. It was as if she had vanished from the middle of the hall.
"Could somebody have conjured her out?" Dor wondered aloud.
"Conjuring is not a common talent," King Roogna said. "I know of no conjurers today who could accomplish this."
"The magic hoop!" Jumper chittered.
Oh, no! They fetched the hoop, still at its two-foot diameter. "Did Millie the maid pass through you last night?" Dor demanded of it.
"She did not," the hhoop said acerbically. "No on has been through me since you stuck your fool head through and brought out the harpy Prince. When are you going to have me changed back to my normal size? I'm uncomfortable, stretched out like this."
"Later," Dor told it, experiencing relief. Then his relief reversed. I
f Millie had gone through there, at least she would be alive and safe and possibly recoverable. As it was, the mystery remained, growing more critical every moment
"Query the flute," Jumper suggested. "If someone played it and lured her somewhere--"
Dor queried the pied-piper flute. It, too, denied any involvement. "Could it be lying?" Vadne asked.
"No," Dor answered shortly.
They crossed the Castle again, but gained nothing on their original information: Millie had left the Zombie Master in the evening, going toward her room--and never gotten there. Nothing untoward had been seen by anyone or anything.
Then Jumper had another notion. "If she is the victim of malodorous entertainment--"
"What?" Dor asked.
"Foul play," the web said, rechecking its translation, "Can't expect me to get the idiom right every time."
Dor smiled momentarily. "Continue."
Jumper chittered again. "...victim of smelly games, then some other person is most likely responsible. We must ascertain the whereabouts of each other living person at the time of her disappearance."
"You have an uncommonly apt perception," King Roogna told the spider. "You approach things from new directions."
"It comes from having eyes in the back of one's head," Jumper said matter-of-factly.
They checked for the others. The centaurs had remained on the ramparts, backing up the zombies. Dor and Jumper and King Roogna had slept. The Zombie Master had worked till the wee hours, then gone to the male room and thence to his sleeping cot. Magician Murphy had taken an innocent tour of the premises, also stopped at the male room, and slept. Neo-Sorceress Vadne had assisted the Zombie Master, but gone to the female room shortly before Millie was dismissed. She had returned to work late with the Zombie Master, then gone to her own room to sleep. Nothing there.
"What occurs in the female room?" Jumper inquired.
"Uh, females have functions too," Dor said.
"Excretion. I comprehend. Did Millie go there?"
"Often. Young females have great affinity for such places."
"Did she emerge on the final occasion?"
The men stared. "We never checked there!" Dor cried.
"Now don't you men go snooping into a place like that!" Vadne protested. "It's indecent!"