Harpy Thyme (29 page)

But there were problems. There were a number of monsters in the vicinity, such as dragons, griffins, river serpents, ogres, and trolls. Any villager who wasn't careful was apt to discover himself in the stomach of a monster. This made them feel rather insecure. They wished that they didn't have to worry about monsters. Meanwhile, their numbers diminished, because the monsters were eating them faster than they could grow new children. At this rate, the day would come when no village was left.

Then one of them heard that a Magician, or at least a person with a very strong magic talent, was in need of assistance. It occurred to them that they might be able to make a deal with the Magician. If they helped him, maybe he would help them. So they sent a representative to negotiate. It turned out that the Magician's talent was making things very large. Huge, in fact. And suddenly they realized that if they were large, they wouldn't have to worry about dragons and whatnot; they would be big enough to throw the dragons away. This notion had considerable appeal. So they made the deal: they would build the mountain the Magician wanted, if he would make them too big for any dragon to devour.

They packed up their things and traveled to the Magician's place of residence. He touched the first man, and the man began to grow, enormously. He grew right out of his clothing, which was embarrassing; in fact his bare bottom was blushing. “Do not be concerned,” the Magician said. “Your bodies will not show.”

“They will show across the length and depth of Xanth!” a woman protested. “We must have giant clothing!”

“Just watch, and you will see,” the Magician said, unperturbed.

“That's what's bothering us!” the woman said, covering the curious eyes of her children. “We are seeing too much. Those aren't exactly moons in the Sky.”

But as the man grew further, something weird happened. He began to become less visible. His body seemed to be thinning, in the manner of a demon turning to smoke. “He's fading away!” someone cried. “He's not mooning us anymore.”

“No, he is merely becoming visually diffuse,” the Magician said. “There is only so much to see in an ordinary person. When his body expands, that sight gets spread across a wider surface. Finally it expands so much that he can't be seen at all. But he is still solidly there.”

They watched, amazed, as the first man became a virtual shadow of himself, a faintening outline, and finally nothing. But when they went up to where he had stood, they discovered his monstrous bare feet. He was indeed still there.

“We didn't agree to this!” someone said.

“Consider this sensibly,” the Magician responded. “As big as you will be, you will have little if any need for clothing for warmth, because of an aspect of magic called the square cube ratio, and if you do need it, you can make it of suitable size. Meanwhile no one will stare at you or be concerned when you walk near, because no one will see you. Thus you have the ultimate privacy along with your size. This combination should work very well for you.”

They considered, and the more they thought about it, the more sense it made. So they decided that it would be all right to be invisible, and they would communicate with each other by calling back and forth. They would make do.

So the Magician made the rest of them large. There was much blushing as they burst out of their clothes, and some glances of admiration before they faded out, and finally all of them, even the children, were huge and invisible. They could see perfectly well; they just couldn't be seen.

“You are fortunate that you aren't in Mundania,” the Magician said. “Because there your invisibility would make it impossible for you to see, and you would be blind with the light passing right through your eyes and never stopping to give you the picture. But here in Xanth you don't have to be concerned about such confusions.”

Then they got to work, and with their enormous bare hands they scraped up a big mound of earth and rock for the Magician, forming his mountain. When he was satisfied, they linked hands and walked away, seeking a region where they could dwell without stepping on anyone, because they were peaceful folk who did not like to make trouble. They found an isolated region, and there they settled. They found that indeed they did not need clothing, unless they wanted to become visible. When they did wear clothing, it tended to fade after a while, becoming invisible too, so there didn't seem to be much point in it. Anyway, they found they liked being invisible; it had a number of advantages.

After a time some giants left the community to find separate employment. Some just wandered around seeking good works to do, taking care where to set their feet so as to do no harm. Sometimes one would find that a storm had blown a big tree down on a normal person's house; he would quietly lift that tree away, so as to free the people trapped beneath, and the people would think that the wind had done it. Graeboe's cousin Greatbow found employment with Com-Pewter, scaring folk into the evil machine's cave. But Greatbow himself was careful never to actually step on anyone or to do irreparable damage to the forest.

Another cousin, Girard, was so softhearted that he tried to water trees in a drought and to help injured animals. He took do-gooding to an extreme that became a fault. When he tried to help a little human boy, he wound up getting a bad dream that had been intended for the boy, and in that dream saw Gina Giantess, with whom he fell instantly in love. But she was only a figment crafted for the dream, making fulfillment of his love impossible. But finally he was able to find her anyway, in the dream realm of the hypnogourd.

Graeboe himself had not even gotten around to seeking love. His malady had come upon him, and slowly wasted him, so that his breath turned too bad for other giants to stand, he lost his invisibility (apparently there was after all a bit of magic involved in that), and he became increasingly weak. Yet the Good Magician seemed to think that there was an answer for him, and he had sought that answer. Now he realized that there was no answer, or he had lost it along the way. So he was satisfied to try to do what bit of good he could before he expired.

* * *

“Oh, but that's very sad,” Gloha said, trying to comfort him. “You're such a nice person. You really deserve to live beyond your youth. Just how old are you?”

Graeboe counted on his fingers. “Just about coming onto my majority,” he said. “I was found on a cabbage patch forty-eight years ago.”

“But that's old!” she exclaimed, amazed. “Not for a giant. Ordinarily we live to be two hundred or so. So I'm not yet a quarter through my scheduled life. In your terms I would be about-” He concentrated, trying to do long division on his fingers, but it wasn't working very well.

“About nineteen?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” he agreed. “That sounds right. If I were to stay in this body, and live out my term, I would not live any longer than you would. But of course that's academic."

“There must be some way to save you,” she said.

“I am more concerned with saving you,” he said. “It would be intolerable to let Veleno have his way with you.”

“Yes, you are here now because you tried to help me,” she agreed. “Well, you rest for a while, Graeboe, and I shall see if I can think of any way to help any of us.”

“Maybe Metria will get help.”

“Maybe she will.” She held him and rocked him, and he found himself fading into sleep. Her embrace was wonderfully comforting.

Graeboe expected to die without revealing it, but he could no longer hide the foolish truth from himself: He was by nature a giant, and she was a goblin-harpy crossbreed, but he loved her. All he could do was hope that Gloha escaped this prison and found her desire. Meanwhile he could not imagine a nicer way to fade out than this, being rocked in her arms.

Gloha held Graeboe while he slept. She felt so guilty for foolishly getting herself caught here, and thus leading her friends into captivity too. Trent had accompanied her to protect her, and he had tried to, but there were limits, and she had stretched them too far. Marrow had come along to see if perhaps his own quest for half a soul might be found, and he had been helpful, and now was also a prisoner. But Graeboe was the worst, because he had nothing to gain from them, yet had tried his best to help, and now had no chance to pursue his quest for life. It was interesting that in giant terms he was just about her own age. That was way too young to die!

There was a tramping on the stairs. Veleno appeared, carrying a lamp, for it was now dark. “Are you ready yet?” he inquired.

“Never,” she said quietly, so as not to disturb Graeboe's sleep. The poor giant had enough trouble, without having his rest disturbed, and she was glad to do this much for him.

“You will change your mind eventually,” he said. “I'll wait.”

“And if I don't?”

“You're mortal. You'll expire.”

“You wouldn't dare!” she exclaimed, too vehemently, for Graeboe stirred. She increased her rocking, hoping he would not awaken.

“Of course I would dare,” he said. “I don't expect you to call my bluff. The hungrier and thirstier you get, the more reasonable my proposal will seem. And I think that goes double for your mortal friends. You won't want them to suffer unduly on your behalf.”

Gloha stiffened. He was right. How could she do this to Trent and Graeboe? Graeboe might be about to die anyway, but Trent wasn't. She just couldn't let them pay such a horrible price for her defiance.

Yet the idea of being married to this gross man Veleno, who was twice her height and not remotely like the one she was looking for, forever ending what foolish dreams she might have had-that was too appalling to contemplate. If she had to marry a human man, it should be someone more like Magician Trent. That particular foolishness had considerable appeal. But she did know better.

What was she to do? She couldn't stand either alternative. So all that was left was for her to hope that the Demoness Metria succeeded in summoning help. So that she and her friends could be rescued from this fell man with his fell castle.

Veleno waited a moment, and when she didn't answer again, he turned and tramped back down the stairs. He was sure that time was on his side. Maybe-perish the thought!-he was right. Unless Metria-

A swirl of smoke appeared. “Well, I'm back,” the demoness said.

“Did you summon help?”

“Not exactly. I consented them.”

“You whatted them?”

“Whatted?”

“What did you do to them?”

"Oh. Agree, enlighten, apprise, acquaint, inform, notify

“You advised them?”

“Whatever,” the demoness agreed crossly. Gloha contained her temper, still trying not to disturb Graeboe. “Whom did you advise?”

“Oh, everyone. Your goblins, harpies, winged centaurs, giants-”

“Giants?”

“Graeboe's a giant, isn't he? When he's himself?” Gloha glanced down at the elf she held. “Yes. If the invisible giants come, they can just lift off the roof and free us all. Good thinking, Metria.”

The demoness turned faint pink, averted her gaze, and said, “Thank you.”

Startled at this display of modesty, Gloha lost her chain of thought. However, it didn't fall far, and she was able to recover it. “So is anyone going to come to help? Did you tell them where we are?”

“Oh, sure. And I even told Smash Ogre that Tandy will be delayed returning, because you forgot to. He said that was okay for now. The others'll be here the day after tomorrow, maybe.”

“The day after tomorrow!” Gloha exclaimed, then quickly rocked to lull Graeboe back to sleep. “We could starve of thirst by then!”

“Starve of what?”

“Never mind. I don't think Graeboe can last that long without food and water. We're going to have to do something sooner.”

“Such as what?”

Gloha stifled her groan. “Such as marrying Veleno.”

“What, me marry him?”

“No, me. I'm the one he wants to marry. I hate the notion, but I see no alternative.”

But the demoness had caught hold of an idea that intrigued her. “I wonder if I could marry him?”

“No way. You're a demoness. You can't love, remember? His enchantment won't be broken until someone loves him.”

“And you can love him?”

Gloha stiffened again. “Oh, you're right. I may be capable of love, but not with him. I can't stand him. So even if I married him, I wouldn't break the enchantment. It would be a wasted effort.” That realization was actually a relief.

“Suppose I married him, and pretended to love him. If I fooled him, would that do it?”

That was a difficult question. “I don't think you could fool him, Metria.”

The demoness bridled. “I can fool just about anyone, when I try. Anyone except Grossclout.”

“Who?”

“The Demon Professor Grossclout. He's so smart he thinks everyone else's head is filled with mush. He proves it all the time. I tried to fool him with Woe Betide, but he saw right through her.”

“Who?”

Metria disappeared. In her place stood the most darling, sweet, cute, innocent, huge-eyed forlorn little waif of a girl imaginable, dressed in rags. “Hi,” she piped. “I'm Woe Betide. Buy a match?” She offered a tiny twig of wood. Gloha was impressed. “That would fool me,” she agreed. The waif's face clouded tragically.  “It  didn't fool Grossclout. Nothing fools him. He's a terror.” Graeboe woke. “Who's that?” he asked, startled. The ragamuffin turned her great sad orbs on him, “I'm just downtrodden Woe Betide, the poor little match girl. Everybody gaits on me.”

“Everybody what's on you?” he asked.

“Paces, struts, tracks, hobbles, shambles-”

“Steps?” he asked. “Treads?” Gloha asked at almost the same time.

“Whatever,” the waif said crossly.

Graeboe laughed weakly. “Hello, Metria.”

Woe Betide puffed into smoke. “What gave me away?” the demoness inquired, re-forming in her full buxom edition.

“It was just a lucky guess,” he said.

Metria sent him a suspicious glance, but didn't argue the case.

Gloha remained intrigued by the prior subject. “I wonder if you could fool Veleno?” she asked “Not that it would be ethical.”

“Who cares whether it's ethical, so long as it works?” the demoness asked.

“Fool Veleno?” Graeboe asked.

“He wants to marry someone who will love him,” Gloha explained. “Metria might marry him and pretend to love him.”

“Why?”

“To get the rest of us free.”

“Why?” he asked again.

“Because it would be a caring thing to do,” Metria said shortly. “So I could learn to rapture.”

“To what?” Gloha asked.

“Adoration, esteem, amour, passion, stork-”

“Oh, love,” Gloha said.

“Oh, whatever,” the demoness agreed crossly.

“I think I understand,” Graeboe said. “Veleno wants to marry and love, and Metria wants to do something caring, so she might help us by making him think he had found love, so that he would release all the others.”

“Might, schmight!” Metria said. “We'd make a deal: he releases them, or he gets no nookie.”

Gloha wasn't familiar with the word, but decided not to inquire lest the correct word be troublesome. “I don't think it would be ethical,” she repeated. “Therefore we can't do it, tempting as it is.”

“You haven't said why ethics matters,” Metria said.

“It matters to feeling folk,” Graeboe said.

“Oh, why do you have to put it that way!” the demoness exclaimed, more than crossly.

“It's just very hard to explain feeling things to one who doesn't feel,” Gloha said, somewhat at a loss.

“Let me get this straight: it's all right for him to capture folk and starve them to make them do what he wants, but it's not all right for them to fool him into letting his victims go?”

“Oh, my,” Gloha said, taken aback. “Put that way-”

“Veleno is being unethical,” Graeboe said. “But that does not give us leave to be unethical too. We prefer to be governed by the best standard, not the worst.”

“Yes,” Gloha agreed, appreciating his clarification.

“Okay, let's get practical. Suppose I tell him I'm a demoness and can't really love him, but I'll pretend to for a couple of days, so he can break his geis, and-”

“Break his what?” Graeboe asked.

“I got the right word,” Metria said crossly. “Geis, pronounced gaysh, plural geasa, as in girl. No, that's not quite it; forget the plural. It's a magical obligation. He has to find love, so he can get out of here. That's his geis.”

“A geis,” Gloha said musingly. “That's interesting. I wonder if anyone else has such an obligation?”

“Oh, many do. You should hear about the geis of the gargoyle. But that's a whole nother story. So anyway, he wants something, you want something, I want something; why can't we make a deal?”

“Perhaps, if the terms are clearly understood and honored, it would be ethical,” Graeboe agreed.

Gloha was moved to something like wonder. “You would do this, Metria, just to get the feeling of doing something generous?”

“Sure. You people seem to have all kinds of feelings I don't understand, and they make you do funny things. You seem to get a lot of fun out of love. I want to try it, once, just so I know what it is.”

“But there is no guarantee that doing something nice for us will enable you to love,” Gloha said. The demoness shrugged. “There's no guarantee it won't.” Gloha thought about the ugly alternatives she faced. If this could free her of those ...

“Perhaps it is worth trying,” Graeboe said. “So long as you do speak truly, and do follow through.”

“The follow-through is easy. Any demoness can make any man deliriously happy, if she chooses.”

“I wouldn't say that,” he demurred.

“Oh wouldn't you? How about when you were bouncing on my bosom? Didn't you like that? And what about sleeping on her bosom? Don't you like that even better?”

Both Gloha and Graeboe stiffened. He scrambled off her lap. “I-” he started, while Gloha tried not to flush.

“And you have to tell the truth, right? So tell me it isn't so. I could assume goblin girl form too, you know.”

He was silent. Gloha managed to come to his rescue. “Real folk can make real folk happy,” she said. “But that's not the same as a demoness doing it.”

Metria fogged out, and reappeared as Woe Betide. “Maybe someone your size,” she said to Graeboe. “Suppose I do a strip mine?” She began to dance, pulling off her innocent bonnet

“What kind of-?” Graeboe began.

“Never mind!” Gloha said. “We'll grant that a demoness can-can do what you said, when she wants to. How can we be sure you'll tell Veleno the truth? So we aren't ethically compromised?”

“Suppose I do it right here? So you can listen?”

Gloha exchanged exactly one glance with Graeboe. “That seems fair,” she agreed.

“Done! When he comes here to torment you again, I'll make the deal.”

Gloha was hardly sure how she felt. If this was ethical, and it worked ...

The demoness popped out, leaving them alone in the cell. Graeboe found a place to sit down against the wall.

“You don't have to go there,” Gloha said.

“I think I do. I never wished to cause you any embarrassment.”

“And you didn't. It was the demoness who did that.”

“Still, I will not contribute to any problem for you, in any way I can prevent.”

Something that had been hovering around the periphery of her thoughts came into focus. “You like me, don't you?”

“Well, that isn't relevant to our situation. Anyone would have tried to help you.”

“No, I mean you-” She hesitated. “You really like me.”

He brightened. “I-do. But I have no wish to cause you any distress, or to interfere in any way-”

“Yes, that's what you said. And you are such a good man. If only you weren't-”

“A giant,” he finished wanly.

“No.” For she was just now coming to understand something Magician Trent had said, about knowing her own mind. “If only you weren't dying. I think I could-could like you the same way. To be a friend to you as you have been a friend to me. But even if I get away from this castle, you can't get away from your fate. You'll never be a happy giant again, going your way, marrying a nice giantess, and living happily ever after.”

Graeboe seemed to reconsider something, and to come to a painful conclusion. “Friends, yes,” he agreed. “That is true. I am sorry I did not think far enough ahead to realize that it was not only pointless to make new friends at this time, it was cruel. To those friends. I was so hungry for company that I did not question it in the way I should have. I have done all of you a disservice.”

She considered. “I see your logic, Graeboe, but not your feeling. I think I would not want never to have known you or Magician Trent, whatever happens. All this time I have been looking for a winged goblin, when I should have been looking for truly good friends. Friends like you.”

“No, I am not truly good. I am ordinary in all but body, and even that is fading.”

“And so am I. Ordinary, I mean, in spirit.” She shook her head. “At least I have learned to look beyond the body. Much good may it do me.”

They lapsed into silence. Gloha hoped that Trent and Marrow weren't feeling too despondent. Her guilt for their fate remained. If only she hadn't stupidly followed that popcorn! She had sidetracked their whole quest and gotten them all in trouble. Now their only hope was a demoness whose only reason for helping was infernal curiosity.

She heard the tramping of feet on the stairs. Was Veleno returning so soon? Or was it soon? It was hard to tell, in the dark. Maybe she had snoozed in the interim.

This time the man had brought a tray with food. “Are you ready to marry me?” he asked.

“No, but maybe someone else is,” Gloha said.

“The nymphs don't count. None of them remember that they married me. You will remember.”

“There is another who will remember. Who is willing, as I am not.”

He showed interest. “Who?”

“Metria.”