Golem in the Gears

  “Me? I don’t need rescuing!” Stanley protested.

  “What is he saying?” Jordan asked.

  “He says he doesn’t need rescuing,” Grundy said. He returned to dragon-talk. “Then why didn’t you return to Ivy?”

  Now Stanley looked sad. “I would like to. But I can’t.”

  “Are the Fauns and Nymphs holding you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then you are free to go, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  Grundy turned to the others. “He says they aren’t holding him captive, but he’s not free to go.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Jordan said.

  But now the Fauns and Nymphs were swarming over Stanley, hugging him and kissing him and teasing him, and his attention was distracted; there was no point in trying to question him further at the moment.

  Threnody’s eyes narrowed. “I think I begin to get a glimmer why he isn’t eager to leave,” she said.

  Grundy nodded. “Who would!”

  “Oh, you like that sort of treatment?” Rapunzel inquired.

  “Well—”

  “I thought maybe you didn’t.”

  “We have to figure out how to get Stanley to go home,” he said gruffly.

  But the more they saw of the Faun & Nymph Retreat, the less likely their mission seemed to be to succeed. These creatures seemed to spend all day in innocent pleasures, swimming, playing, eating, laughing and chatting merrily. There was never a cross word, never a scowl; everything was optimistic. They did not exclude the visitors; Grundy and his party were welcomed into water, mountain and trees.

  Threnody noted Jordan watching half a dozen green-haired Dryads playing tag in the spreading branches of a great old acorn tree. The Nymphs screamed shrilly with joy as they chased one another about, and their arms and legs flashed prettily, and their bare bosoms heaved, and their tresses flung about with abandon. “I think I’d better get back to human-size,” she muttered darkly.

  Meanwhile a party of Orefauns was scaling the central mountain, linked together by ropes. There really wasn’t anywhere to go, and there wasn’t much challenge, as it was a very small mountain, but they seemed happy in their activity. It was as if they had never done this before. Their hooves were good for this kind of work.

  The Naiads and Naifauns were playing water polo, flinging a ball about, splashing and ducking each other and having, if possible, an even better time than the others.

  Then there was a stir back at the entrance to the Retreat. A party of goblins had showed up, armed with spears and clubs. “Round up the juiciest ones,” the goblin chief cried. “We’ll feast tonight.”

  The nearest Nymphs screamed as they were grabbed. Stanley’s ears perked up. He had settled down under a tree for a snooze, but now he was alert. He huffed up a head of steam and whomped toward the goblins.

  “Dragon!” the chief cried in terror.

  The goblins dropped the struggling Nymphs and fled back down the path. Stanley whomped after them, toasting their rears with fierce steam. In a moment the goblins were gone.

  The Nymphs returned to their play, seemingly unconcerned about their near escape.

  Grundy shook his head. “Now I think I understand why he can’t leave,” he said. “These Fauns and Nymphs are helpless before any predator. They don’t know how to fight. They can’t organize. They forget any bad thing as soon as it is past. If Stanley weren’t here, they would soon be decimated by the goblins and anything else that came by.”

  “And if we take him away,” Rapunzel said, “it would be at great cost to them.”

  “But I promised to bring him back to Castle Roogna,” Grundy said. “It’s my Quest, and I have to fulfill it if I possibly can.”

  “Even at such a cost?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Indeed, he discovered himself at the crossroads of the most difficult choice he had yet faced. He couldn’t give up his Quest—yet it would be wrong to deprive this community of its only protection from the hazards of the region.

  Evening was coming, and the Fauns brought down fruits from the trees and fresh berries from the mountain and sea biscuits from the water and formed a feast. The visitors were invited, of course, and the food was very good. But Grundy remained pensive, not seeing any proper course.

  As the shadows lengthened, Snortimer scrambled away. “That shadow!” he cried in monster-tongue. “It’s reaching for me!”

  “But you’re a creature of shadow,” Grundy reminded him. “You live in darkness.”

  “I’m afraid of the dark!”

  “Afraid of the dark!” Grundy was astonished. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “I don’t know,” the Bed Monster confessed. “But now I love the sunshine and can’t stand the dark.”

  “But it’s dark under your bed.”

  “The bed!” Snortimer exclaimed with horror. “Don’t let it get me!”

  “What’s the matter?” Rapunzel asked.

  “Snortimer’s afraid of the dark, and doesn’t want to go back under his bed,” Grundy said, baffled.

  She laughed. “Silly! It’s the reverse-wood.”

  Of course! “Get rid of that sliver of reverse-wood,” Grundy told the Bed Monster.

  Snortimer tossed aside the sliver—and suddenly dived under the bed. He had reverted to normal, and could no longer stand the light. One mystery solved.

  “Just let me make sure he’s all right,” Rapunzel said. She went to the bed, climbed up on it, then changed to human-size. She dangled her pretty ankles down toward the ground.

  Snortimer grabbed. Rapunzel screamed and yanked her legs away. “He’s all right,” she pronounced.

  But the Nymphs had noted this action. “Ooo, let me try!” an Oread exclaimed. She ran to the bed, plumped down on it, and dangled her legs.

  Naturally Snortimer grabbed. “Eeeeek!” the Nymph screamed happily, yanking her legs away.

  Suddenly they were all doing it. The evening resounded with their joyous shrieks, squeals and giggles. One Naiad, being less agile on land, lost her balance when grabbed and tumbled under the bed. “Eeek!” she screamed. “He’s all hands!” There followed a sound suspiciously like kissing, and she rolled out and into the water, a broad smile on her face.

  The Bed Monster, it seemed, was a success. But Grundy looked across to where Stanley lay, supposedly snoozing, and saw that the dragon looked a trifle greener than usual. For three years he had been the center of attention; now there was competition.

  Grundy ambled over to the dragon. “Not that this is relevant,” he said in dragon-talk, “but there’s a little girl at Castle Roogna who only has eyes for one dragon.”

  Stanley sighed steamily. “Actually, I’d like to see Castle Roogna again. But what would happen to these nice Fauns and Nymphs?”

  To that Grundy had no answer. He returned to the bed, where the Nymphs were finally tiring of their sport.

  “It’s getting too dark,” one explained. “We have to go to sleep.”

  And, shortly, all of the Nymphs and Fauns were sleeping in their various habitats, the boundless energy of their day becoming the easy repose of their night. Stanley positioned himself across the entrance path so that he could intercept any intruders, and slept himself.

  Jordan and Threnody settled down under an acorn tree. She was changing back to human-size; at the moment she was in the diffuse, ghostlike stage, having increased her size but not yet her mass; in another hour she would be solid again.

  That left the bed for Grundy and Rapunzel. She had shifted back to golem-size. Her changes were instant, unlike Threnody’s, but she had no other forms. There generally did seem to be a tradeoff, in magic; few people had it all, and those were Magicians or Sorceresses. Little Dolph could change instantly to any form, and therefore he was a Magician, destined to be King of Xanth if Ivy didn’t want it.

  “Hey, Grundy,” Snortimer called from under the bed.

  “Here,” Grundy said.

&nbs
p; “You know, we’ve found your dragon, but we haven’t found romance for me. That was part of the deal, you know.”

  Grundy looked at Rapunzel, stricken. What could he say?

  “Is he asking what I think he’s asking?” Rapunzel asked.

  “Yes. And I don’t know what to tell him.”

  “Why, tell him the truth,” she said. “He deserves to know, you know.”

  “But—”

  Rapunzel said it for him. “Snortimer, it grieves me to tell you this, but there are no females of your species.”

  “I suspected that,” the Bed Monster muttered, and Grundy translated. Snortimer could understand human-talk, as many monsters could, though he couldn’t speak it.

  “But I’m sure your life can be worthwhile,” Rapunzel said. “Those Nymphs seemed to like you very well.”

  “But I can’t stay here,” Snortimer replied glumly. “It’s Stanley’s territory.”

  And so there was a dragon who would return to Castle Roogna, but could not, and a Bed Monster who would remain here, but could not. Xanth was full of ironies.

  “Somehow, there’s an answer for everything,” Rapunzel said consolingly. “I just know it.”

  She was somewhat nymphlike in her positive attitude. Grundy wished he could share it, but he could not. Being on a Quest was not as simple as he had imagined.

  Then Rapunzel took his hand again, and almost he was able to believe that things were better than they were.

  14

  A Bonnet of Bees

  In the morning the Fauns and Nymphs roused, and flocked to see the visitors, just as if they didn’t remember them. Stanley whomped over. “Every day is new for them,” he explained in dragon-talk. “They don’t remember overnight. That’s why the goblins and ogres and things can raid; the Fauns and Nymphs never learn and take no precautions.”

  “They really need protection,” Grundy agreed, perceiving the larger picture. Of course it wouldn’t be right to deprive the community of its only protection. But how could he return to Castle Roogna with his Quest unfulfilled?

  The Nymphs rediscovered the Bed Monster, and shrieked with delight as Snortimer grabbed at their attractive ankles. Stanley turned a darker shade of green, but made no comment. The Fauns fetched in the morning feast of fruits and biscuits. Everyone was happy—except the visitors, who were cursed with memories longer than a day.

  “If there is no solution,” Rapunzel murmured, “maybe this would be a good place to stay.”

  “No!” Grundy said. “I have a Quest to fulfill, and you need to be restored to your own kind, whichever that is. There has to be a way.”

  “Of course,” she said, somewhat sadly.

  But in midmorning things abruptly changed.

  There was an ominous humming from the entrance-trail. Soon it manifested as a swarm of B’s, and by the sound of it, they meant no good.

  They were huge B’s, similar to bees but larger and more magical. Each was a quarter the size of Grundy, and they had horrendous stingers. They spread out and dive-bombed the hapless Fauns and Nymphs. The attacked creatures screamed—then acted very strangely. One insisted on running out in front of all the others and staying there no matter what; another went to the rear of the group and would not be budged. A third started peering about, looking and looking as if he could not see enough. Another cried, “I have seen the light!” over and over. Another got down on the ground and tried to tunnel into it. All of them were doing such peculiar things that the others could not figure it out—until getting stung themselves and taking off on their own peculiarities.

  Jordan glared about, sword in hand, but this wasn’t much good against the B’s. “What does it mean?” Threnody asked.

  “I think those are B’s from a Have,” Rapunzel said. “I have learned about them, but never seen them until this moment.”

  “A B-hive?” Grundy asked. “But all B’s live in hives!”

  “A B-Have,” she said. “That’s a very special kind. When they sting, the victim be-haves in the manner dictated by the sting. It looks to me as if there are several types of B’s here—a B-fore, a B-hind, a B-lieve, a B-neath, a B-hold—”

  “Oh!” Grundy exclaimed. “The one who’s trying to go before everyone, and the one going behind, and the one who sees the light, and the one trying to get down beneath—”

  “And the one looking all about,” Threnody put in. “That’s the one stung by the B-hold!”

  “And I see a B-seech, a B-side, a B-stir, a B-reave—” Jordan added.

  “And a B-siege, a B-set, a B-tween—” Grundy added.

  “And a number of B-wilders and B-wails,” Rapunzel concluded. “But why are they attacking the innocent folk?”

  But now one of the insects was making a B-line for Grundy. “Have you had enough, golem?” it buzzed in B-talk.

  “The Sea Hag!” he cried, catching on.

  “Oh, no!” Rapunzel exclaimed in maidenly dismay. “She’s still after me!”

  “You can’t have her, Hag!” Grundy cried.

  “I am not the Queen B,” the B buzzed. “I am merely her messenger. She says the Fauns and Nymphs will suffer excruciatingly until the girl is returned to her.”

  “What’s she saying?” Rapunzel asked, distraught.

  “This is only a messenger with an ultimatum,” Grundy said. “The Hag wants the usual. It seems she has taken over the Queen B, so these B’s obey her.”

  “And they’re going to harass the innocent creatures until she gets her way,” Threnody said. “I know how she thinks. We’ve got to nullify her.”

  “This is my job,” Grundy said. “I’ll go to the B-Have and settle with her once and for all.”

  “We’ll all go,” Jordan said, touching his sword.

  “You men are so headstrong and foolish,” Threnody said. “If everyone goes, the B’s will simply swarm in and sting us, and we’ll spend all our time in weird activity and never get there. No, this has to be a covert operation, accomplished while most of the swarm is away from the Have. Probably Grundy could do it alone, if he could sneak away—”

  “No! It’s too dangerous!” Rapunzel cried.

  “It’s too dangerous not to try it!” Grundy said grimly. “Snortimer, can you get me out of here without being spotted by the B’s?”

  Snortimer didn’t answer. It was day, and he was huddled under the bed.

  Grundy went and got the loose sliver of reverse-wood. He tossed it under the bed. The Bed Monster caught it automatically—and came sailing out, suddenly afraid of the shadows. “I can do it!” he cried.

  “Good enough!” Grundy mounted. “Keep them distracted,” he called to the others.

  “But you’ll have to do it by nightfall,” Threnody called back. “Because then they’ll return to their Have anyway—”

  “By nightfall,” he agreed. Then he hung on, as Snortimer scurried for the ring of mountains.

  They climbed the rough-hewn slope, Snortimer’s hands readily grasping the crevices. Because they were off the path, the B’s did not spot them. They circled around until they could intersect the path out of sight of the swarm, then proceeded rapidly along it.

  As they left the Retreat, Grundy began calling to the surrounding vegetation. “Where is the B-Have?”

  “South,” the vegetation agreed.

  They bore south through increasingly rough terrain, dodged around a tangle tree, and came into sight of it: a huge hive in the shape of a lady’s bonnet, hanging from a big branch. They stopped short, for a number of guardian B’s buzzed around it. “I’ll have trouble getting at the B in that bonnet,” Grundy muttered.

  “I could climb up the tree and rip it down,” Snortimer suggested.

  “And get hopelessly stung,” Grundy retorted. “That’s no good. I need to sneak in, seal it off, and then go after the Queen. I can fit inside; you can’t.”

  “It’s dangerous,” Snortimer reminded him.

  “Set me on the branch,” Grundy said. “Then when I sneak in, y
ou leap up and jam something in the entrance. Then get out of there before the B’s catch you.”

  “You fools,” another voice said. “That’ll never work.”

  Grundy looked around. There was a tremendous spider, with a circular web that spanned from tree to ground.

  “You know these B’s?” Grundy asked in spider-talk.

  “I feed on them,” the spider said. “But they’re getting pretty canny, and now they avoid my web no matter how carefully I conceal it.”

  “Then how do you figure you know so well how to handle them?” Grundy demanded.

  “I didn’t say I knew how to handle them,” the spider said. “I just know what won’t work.”

  “That’s not much help,” Grundy said sourly.

  “Why should I help you, anyway?”

  “Because I could make it worth your while.”

  “How?”

  “I could call some B’s here, so you would have a season’s feast.”

  The spider’s mandibles watered. “Ah, maybe I could help you …”

  “How?”

  “I could give you some silk to let yourself down to the entrance to the B-Have.”

  Grundy considered. “Not worth it. I’d just get stung when I got there.”

  “I could give you a web-net to put across the entrance, so that you could prevent any B’s from passing in and out; they can’t handle that stuff. It tangles up their wings.”

  Grundy wavered. “So that once I got in, I could seal it off behind me. That does sound good. But I’d still have to deal with the ones remaining inside.”

  “I can give you another web-net, that you could sling over a B, incapacitating it long enough for you to stab it with your sword.”

  “Done!” Grundy cried.

  And it was done. The spider made him a line, an entrance-cover web, and a throw-net. In return, he positioned himself behind the big web and sounded off in B-talk:

  “Help! I’m a succulent flower just bursting with pollen, and I haven’t seen a B in just ages!”

  Immediately several B’s buzzed at him—and were caught in the web. In a moment the spider had caught them and trussed them up.