Dragon on a Pedestal (25 page)

“Another kind of ant?” Ivy asked. “We did see some giants in the coven-tree.”

The woman frowned, still looking quite pretty. “I meant to say sad,” she clarified. “Pointed and sad.”

“Oh,” Ivy said. “But I don’t like sad stories. Couldn’t you make it happy?”

“Possibly it will have a happy ending,” Glory said.

“Oh, goody!” And Ivy settled back to listen, while Hugo conjured more fruit for their new acquaintance.

I
rene was beset by doubt. First she worried that they would drop the bag of seeds in the course of the frequent passings back and forth; when that didn’t happen, she was concerned that she would misplace her grip and fall herself. In between, she was nervous about the impression she was making on those below, climbing down the vine in her blouse and green panties. At age fifteen, she would have loved the excuse; now it bothered her considerably. She wasn’t certain whether it would be worse to have people admiring her exposed legs and whatever—or to have people condemning them. She had tried to keep trim and firm, but …

They made it safely. Xap and Chem and Zora were waiting, together with several of the Muses.

As soon as she and the seeds were safely down, Irene grew a dress plant and a new pair of lady-slippers, then clothed herself properly. But her worries were only replaced by others. Where was Ivy now? Had the Cyclops eaten her? No, of course not; the little ivy plant—what a contrast between the one she wore and the one she had climbed!—remained healthy. But it would still take at least a day to get back, unless she grew another flying plant and flew back. Chem wouldn’t be able to come along, then, or Zora Zombie, and she needed these friends. Also, none of her flying plants could handle the additional burden of the big bag of seeds. Better to ride back as they had ridden in, though the loss of time chafed.

Suppose they encountered the Python again, or the maenads? There were so many hazards between her and her child!

Irene got a grip on herself and checked her big new bag of seeds. She picked out several familiar ones and several unfamiliar ones, just in case. She had used up so many of her regular seeds that she could no longer depend on them.

The Muses were friendly, civilized, intelligent women, and Irene would have loved to visit with them, but she had no time for chitchat. Any delay could be horrendous for Ivy! As it was, there might not be enough time. Everything was so uncertain! “Let’s get moving!” she snapped.

The others looked askance at her but didn’t argue. They bade hasty farewell to the Muses and set off down the best path.

Still Irene was agitated. Suppose Chem stumbled and broke a leg? So many things could go wrong!

Grundy looked back at her. “Anything wrong, Irene?” the golem asked. “You looked scared.”

“Shut up, you little rag blob!” she snapped.

“He only asked if—” Chem started.

“You too, animal rump!” Irene said.

Hurt, the centaur was silent. Irene had never before addressed her in such manner, and the language was undeserved.

“The seeds!” Xavier exclaimed. “The big bird said to remember what they were!”

Suddenly it connected. “Doubt, Dissension, and War!” Irene exclaimed. “I’ve been doubting ever since I got them!” “That isn’t all,” Grundy muttered sullenly.

Irene realized that it wasn’t enough just to know the cause of her problem. She had to find a way to eliminate the bad effects of the seeds.

“We can carry them,” Xavier said helpfully. “Pass them out, one to a person, so it won’t be too bad for none of us.”

Despite her doubt, irritation, and growing inclination for violence, Irene saw the merit in the suggestion. The lout was actually pretty smart. She handed the seed of Doubt to Grundy, the seed of Dissension to Xavier, and the seed of War to Zora. She didn’t want the two steeds to have them; they were too important for transportation, and Xap would be too dangerous if he developed warlike notions.

Irene felt immediate relief as the seeds left her. Confidence and equilibrium returned. They would make it.

“Lot of bad things on the way,” Grundy said. “Maybe we should take another route.”

That was the seed of Doubt. It helped to know that; she could ignore the golem.

“Come on, Xap, get your gait straight,” Xavier said irritably. “You’re bouncing us all over the place, you birdbeak!”

“Don’t let the seed of Dissension govern you!” Irene warned, having felt its effect herself so recently.

“Shut your yap, you middle-aged broad!” he snapped at her.

Irene felt the color cruising up her neck and face. She knew the cause of his language, but it was all she could do to hold her tongue.

She looked apprehensively at the zombie, who now rode behind Xavier again. Zora seemed as sanguine as only a zombie could be, despite the fact that zombies had very little blood. Apparently the seeds did not affect the
undead. “Give your seeds to Zora,” Irene called. “She can handle them.” At least Irene hoped so.

It was done. The problem seemed to be solved.

One thing Irene now realized—the three dread seeds would do Xanthippe little good! That must be why the Simurgh had decided to send them to the witch.

With the seeds under control and the route known, the travelers should be able to make good progress back to the region where Ivy was lost. Irene began to feel faintly confident. With luck—

Luck was not with them. The Python lay coiled in their path. The huge snake was bruised and had patches of skin missing, but had survived the onslaught of the wild women. The deadly head lifted and the huge jaws gaped.

“We ain’t off Parnassus yet!” Xavier muttered.

Quickly Irene fetched out her new dragon seed and threw it down before the Python. “Grow!” she cried.

The seed sprouted vigorously—but something happened to Irene’s head. She put her hand to her hair—and discovered plants growing there. She had missed three seeds hidden in her hair, and her command had started them off! Normally only the seed she directed her attention to grew, which was why the big bag of seeds wasn’t sprouting; but there was some peripheral effect, and seeds actually in contact with her body could also be set off, though at a slower rate. She was starting a garden in her hair!

Worse, there was another seed hidden in her bosom. It must have fallen there during the original spray from the Tree. It was growing inside her blouse, curling around an unmentionable area. She plunged her hand down her neckline, fishing for the plant.

“What a place
this
is!” a sneering voice exclaimed from inside her dress. “Are these mountains, pyramids, or bags of sand?”

Worse and worse! That was a devil’s tongue plant! She had to catch it and get it out before the others noticed.

“I’ve heard of cushy locations,” the tongue said, slurping around some more. “But this is entirely too much of a good thing! I can’t get my roots properly grounded in all this cheesecake.”

Irene finally got her fingers on the tongue. It was slimy and slippery, but she yanked it out. The thing flapped about in her hand, but could not get free.

“What you got there?” Xavier inquired, glancing at her.

“What’s it to you, you son of a witch?” the devil’s tongue demanded. Irene hastily threw it away. It landed in an elephant bush, which trumpeted angrily. “Oh, go pack in your trunk!” the tongue said.

Now Grundy looked at her. “Hey, you’ve fixed up your hair!”

Irene touched her hair again. The tongue had distracted her, but now these other three plants were the main concern. She identified each by touch: a centipede plant, a fiery love flower, and a bird’s-nest fern.

The Python hissed and slid forward, tired of waiting for this party to get moving. The half-grown dragon tree snapped at it. Her hair would have to wait a little longer!

Xap reared and charged, eager for the fray.

Irene grabbed another seed—this one for a snowball plant. “Grow!” she told it, and tossed it into the Python’s opening mouth. The reptile, naturally enough, swallowed the sprouting seed.

For an instant nothing happened; the plant was still growing. Then the huge serpent became cold. A segment of its body turned blue. The mouth opened again, and freezing fog came out. Icicles formed on the upper teeth.

The dragon tree pounced on the frigid snake, but found only ice. It would be a while before the creature thawed. Xap and Chem trotted past, unmolested. One hazard was out of the way!

But already the next hazard manifested. The maenads, who, it seemed, were still pursuing the Python, swarmed up the path. Blood was in their eyes and on their claws; probably some of it was their own, for several were limping. But they remained as vicious as ever.

Irene fished for a suitable seed. She had an African violent that she wouldn’t have used on any man, but these wild women were another matter. She grabbed it and threw it forward. “Grow!”

The seed sprouted in air, sending out green-backed foliage and silvery stalks. Gold disks fruited, gleaming in the sunlight. Brightly shining stones appeared, decorating the vines.

The maenads shrieked and pounced on the fruit. They plucked the golden coins and hurled them at the oncoming party. They tossed the greenbacks in the air.

“What kind of plant is that?” Grundy asked.

Irene looked more closely and groaned. She had thrown the wrong seed! “That’s a treasure vine!”

“These creatures of Parnassus sure like money,” the golem remarked. “Look at them play with it.”

Indeed, the wild women were throwing the bills and coins around as if they were splashing water. They formed piles of money and reveled in them. They fought over particular bills with big figures printed on them; it seemed women were partial to that kind. But those who had not amassed enough of a fortune were turning again toward the visiting party, their predatory eyes glinting. Irene knew there was nothing quite so dangerous as a hungry wild woman.

She got her fingers on the correct seed and threw it. “Grow, violent!” she cried.

The plant obeyed with alacrity. Purple clubs appeared, smashing at anything in reach. “Ow!” a wild woman screamed as a club clobbered her toe. She danced away on one foot.

“Oof!” another cried as another club whomped her bottom.

“Hooo!” a third screeched, sailing into the air, and a club sprouted right underneath her.

“You sure fight mean!” Xavier said admiringly as they skirted the mêlée and went on down the mountain.

“And you thought women were gentle,” Grundy reminded him snidely.

Xavier looked nonplused. “Well, the centaur filly here is—”

Xap made a squawk of negation tinged with humor, and Chem blushed. It seemed there were some aspects of centaur private life that were sensitive. Startled, Xavier shifted his statement. “A mighty healthy one,” he concluded. With that both hippogryph and centaur were satisfied.

Irene nodded to herself. That must have been some night exploration those two mixbreeds had!

Xavier brightened. “Zora!” he exclaimed. “She’s gentle! She don’t have a violent bone in her body!”

“All her bones are rotten,” Grundy agreed. “It’s easy to be gentle when you’re dead.”

“Undead,” Irene said, coming to Zora’s defense. “That’s not the same.” It occurred to her that even Zora had not seemed gentle when she faced down the Furies and drove them away. But that was not an issue she cared to argue; she owed too much to the zombie. “I agree; Zora is a nice girl.”

“If you like that type,” Grundy muttered.

“She sure helped us,” Xavier said. “Right now she’s carrying the bad seeds for us! If she had any doubt, dissension, or war in her, she’d be a zombie tigress by now!”

“Yes, that’s right,” the golem agreed, glancing across at Zora. Irene glanced, too, to see how the zombie was taking this discussion. Zora seemed blissfully unconcerned; in fact, she even looked healthier. Her flesh now seemed more soiled than decayed, all the features of her face were in place, and her hair swung as if recently cleaned and brushed, with only a few patches missing.

“But some zombies are violent,” Chem remarked. “During the War of the Nextwave, the zombies fought like maniacs.” She seemed happy to have the subject be Zora instead of herself. “So it must be Zora who is peaceful. Even the Furies remarked on it. She must have been awfully nice when she lived.”

It hadn’t actually been peacefulness that the Furies had remarked on, Irene remembered, but Zora’s loyalty to her parents. Chem was only going by what Irene and the others had talked about, since she herself hadn’t been there at the time; it was a minor misunderstanding. “And the heel who caused her to suicide must have been an unutterable slob,” Irene concluded with some feeling.

“She suicided?” Xavier asked, surprised.

“Heartbreak,” Irene told him. “Her true love was false.”

Xavier scowled. “You know, I never zapped a living man. I guess that’s one I would. A man’s got no business making no commitment he don’t keep, ever.”

Again, Irene was impressed with the young man’s crudely expressed values. She herself had absolutely no romantic interest in him, but she could appreciate that if she had, that interest would not be misplaced. Xavier was true to his values, and they were decent ones. No woman would commit suicide because of him.

Zora, riding behind him, still said nothing. Irene realized with another surge of shame that all of them continued to treat the zombie like an unfeeling thing. What almost made it worse was that none of them did it intentionally; it just was very easy to treat a zombie like a zombie, a thing.

“I wonder what misfortunes she’s cursed with,” Xavier said after a moment. “The Furies’ curses, which she saved us from?”

“Either they haven’t affected her any more than the three bad seeds do,” Irene said, “or they haven’t occurred yet. We’ve had some close calls, but nothing’s happened to her.”

“It’s really too bad about those curses,” Xavier said. “I should have taken my own, like a man.”

Irene found she could neither agree nor argue with that, so she let it pass without comment. After all, she also had been spared the curse of misfortune because of Zora’s intercession. It was possible that a misfortune that would kill Irene would have little or no effect on Zora—but it was also possible that it would be equally devastating for human or zombie. She simply didn’t know, so didn’t know how to feel. She owed so much to Zora and had no idea how she could ever repay it.