Geis of the Gargoyle (51 page)

"I am through listening to your mewling, you pathetic creature.
 
Now shut up or I'll have the demon put tape across your mouth."

"Then I have no choice but to capture you and turn you over to the King," Iris said, coming to her final decision.
 
She had given him every chance, but he had merely confirmed the worst.
 
Her heart ached, because she had really been getting to like him, before learning the truth.

"HO HO HO!" he laughed, harder.
 
"You and who else?" Then, to the demon.
 
"Now go round up those brats and keep them in a safe place until I get new manacles for them." He advanced on her again, the amulet clutched in one hand.

"I think not," the demon said.

Arte paused.
 
"What?"

"You heard me, pee brain," the demon said.
 
"I'm not doing a thing to those children.
 
I like children."

"How dare you!" Arte exclaimed.
 
"Obey, you ludicrous excuse for a foul spirit, or I'll make you do much worse."

"I doubt it, you feculent excuse for a human being.
 
Your days of mischief are over."

Arte turned his head to look at the demon.
 
"You can't say that to me, you crazy spook.
 
I'm your master!"

"Oh yes I can, simpleton.
 
I have a mistress now, and I like her better than I ever liked you."

Arte looked at the amulet, then at iris.
 
"What's going on here? This isn't in the script."

"As I said," Iris said, "I'm taking you in to the King for justice.
 
Your fell career as a slaver is through."

"When you're all tied up and about to be cruelly ravished? I don't know what's with the demon, but you're about to pay for your arrogance." He lunged for her.

Iris' bonds puffed into smoke as she leaped clear.
 
He landed face first where she had been.
 
She landed on the floor facing him.
 
"Haven't you caught on yet, oaf?" the demon asked with a sneer.
 
"You have been caught in a snare of illusion."

"What illusion?" Arte demanded, turning over.
 
"All this witch does is make pretend blankets."

"I'm illusion, man cheeks," the demon said.
 
"And so is that amulet."

Arte looked at what he clutched in his hand.
 
It fuzzed out and was revealed as his twisted sock.
 
"What?"

"I have the real amulet," Iris said.
 
She touched her hair, rubbing in the right place.

A second demon appeared.
 
"You summoned me, mistress?" Then he did a double take.
 
"How can there be two of me?"

"Your illusion image has been calling your former master names," Iris said.

"That's an outrage," Rum said.
 
"I demand the right to call him names directly."

"Do so, as you tie him up." Iris went to pick up her clothing.

Rum approached Arte.
 
"You can't touch me!" the man exclaimed, scrambling off the bed.

"Is that so, stink horn breath?" the demon inquired as he conjured stout ropes and looped them around the man.
 
"Mistress, may I dunk him in the boiling soup before hauling him off to the King?"

Iris considered.
 
"I think not.
 
It would spoil the soup." "All too true," Rum agreed regretfully.
 
"What about the lesser slavers?"

"What would you do with them?" Iris inquired.
 
"I would give them their heart's desire, which is my very essence."

This set Iris back.
 
She wasn't interested in rewarding the slavers; she wanted to punish them.

"Those lazy bums?" Arte demanded.
 
"Without my harsh discipline, they'd just get blind stinking drunk."

Then she understood.
 
"Yes, give them your essence.
 
Demon Rum," she said.
 
"And tell the slaves to come here to the house for warmth, food, and freedom."

"Done, mistress," Rum said, and vanished.

The door opened.
 
Surprise peeked in.
 
"Oh, goody-you found it!"

"Yes, thank you, dear," Iris said.
 
"How did you know about the amulet?"

"Buttlescutt around the house said there was something.

There had to be, for him to bind the demon cook.
 
So I looked for it in his clothing, but there wasn't time for me to figure it out, so I left it with you while I 'stracted him." Iris hugged her.
 
"You did exactly right.
 
Surprise.
 
Not only does this enable me to save us, we are putting the slavers out of business."

Soon the slaves started showing up at the house.
 
Rum gave them warm clothing and good hot meals.
 
They were at first fearful, then astonished; most of them had given themselves up to their fate, and not expected any such reprieve.
 
Iris assured them that it was legitimate, and that they could all go home at any time, assisted by the demon.

She and Surprise took a walk outside.
 
The storm had passed and it was halfway warm.
 
There were the slavers, sprawled blissfully across the landscape, half-empty barrels of rum beside them.
 
They were unlikely to recover before the King's men arrived.

"And so it was done, and I had had my adventure and completed my mission," Iris concluded.
 
"The Master Slaver was delivered to the Storm King and never heard of again, and there was no more slavery in Xanth."

"But you shut me out of the good part," Surprise complained.
 
"I wanted to see you summon the stork."

"I know you did, dear, and you know I wouldn't violate the Adult Conspiracy like that, even if I had summoned the stork with that monster."

"Yeah.
 
But the Demon Rum was fun, specially when he started insulting the Master Slaver."

"Yes," Iris agreed somewhat sadly.
 
If only Arte Menia had been as good as he once seemed.

"Did you ever find another romance?"

Ah, the direct questions of children! But it was best to address the painful subject honestly.
 
"Not really," Iris confessed.
 
"Not until Magician Trent, and that was imperfect."

"It was? Why?"

Again that innocent directness.
 
"It was a marriage of convenience.
 
I wanted power and he needed a wife.
 
We didn't love each other.
 
I think he never really forgot his Mundane wife who died."

"But didn't you summon the stork to get Queen Irene?"

"Yes we did, dear.
 
And I came to love Trent.
 
He was exactly the kind of man I needed.
 
But he never really cared for me.
 
Not that I blame him."

"Why not? Aren't you pretty enough?"

"Perhaps I am now.
 
But when I married Trent I was forty-one years old and somewhat dowdy.
 
Of course I enhanced myself with illusion, but he knew the truth.
 
In fact he insisted that I use illusion for all public functions.
 
But he always knew me for what I was, physically and mentally.
 
He never said anything unkind, but he had no passion for me.
 
So the double tragedy of my life was that the man I might have loved turned out to be a slaver, and the one I did love didn't care for me, though I tried to pretend he did."

"But you're young now-and so is he.
 
Why don't you do it now?"

"Do what now?"

"You know-all that stuff I don't know.
 
Passion and storks and stuff."

Iris sat amazed.
 
She was young and so was Trent.
 
He was a man who liked beautiful women; she had seen it in her fifty years of marriage to him.
 
He had never acted on it, being a man of scrupulous conscience, but she knew he would have liked to-in fact now would surely still like to-

"You're right, dear.
 
When I return to my husband, knowing all I do now, I shall not let opportunity pass unclasped.
 
Thank you for reminding me of the obvious."

"You're welcome.
 
Hey, see-we're coming into Hinge again."

Iris looked.
 
It was true.
 
They had completed another loop.
 
Apparently the train didn't really go anywhere.

 
16

DREAM

Hiatus walked through the city, reasonably confident that he wouldn't find the philter.
 
But if he could somehow distract the philter's attention while one of the other parties ran it down, that would be enough.
 
So he tried to look purposeful.

Mentia formed beside him.
 
"Where are we going?" she inquired.

"Anywhere," he said shortly.

"Here comes Desi.
 
Maybe we can ask her."

He tried to laugh, but the joke wasn't funny.

The illusion approached them.
 
She was garbed in an off-the-shoulder blouse and a dress with a short tight skirt.
 
"Why don't you give up this pointlessness and let me distract you?" she inquired winningly.

Hiatus grimaced.
 
"I know you are a mere animation of the philter, and you aren't going to help me find it, so why don't you go away?"

"But I could be So nice to you, if you just let me," she said.

"The only one I want to be nice to me is the real Desiree, not any soulless imitation."

"And if he wanted a fake one he could trust, I'd do it," Mentia said, assuming the form of the dryad.

Hiatus looked from one to the other, disquieted.
 
He couldn't tell them apart.
 
Suppose he thought he was with Mentia, and it was Desi? "I-"

"Good point," Mentia said, resuming her usual form.
 
"I'll pop over and check on the others now.
 
So don't trust her." She faded.

"But-" he protested.

Then he felt the pressure of her invisible hand on his shoulder.
 
Mentia wasn't leaving him; she was merely pretending to, to see what Desi would do.
 
That was reassuring.
 
But he maintained his worried look, so that Desi would not realize.
 
Of course she could read his mind, but maybe she wouldn't do that right now.

"I could help you help her," Desi said.

"Mentia doesn't need any help."

"I was speaking of Desiree.
 
Doesn't she have a problem with her tree?"

"Yes.
 
The madness makes its roots square, and it needs round roots to prosper."