Harpy Thyme (31 page)

Gloha made a wild guess. “Hello, Professor Grossclout,” she said politely. “I am surprised to see you here too.”

“I couldn't avoid it,” Grossclout said. “I have to officiate.” He glanced sourly around. “I must say, Metria holds the dubious distinction of being the worst of all the nitwitted, inattentive, mushminded students ever to disgrace my classes.”

Metria reappeared. “I love you too, Professor.” She kissed him on the cheek with a resounding smack.

“Stop that, you wretched creature!” he exclaimed, seeming almost ready to detonate.

“It's really nice of you to take the trouble,” she said, unconcerned by his ferocity.

“I came only to make absolutely certain that you go through with it, you irresponsible inamorata.”

“Irresponsible what?”

“Flame, lover, beloved, sweetheart, mistress, paramour, concubine-”

“Fiancée?” she asked.

“Whatever,” he agreed crossly.

Metria colored faintly pink and averted her gaze. 'Thank you," she said modestly.

He poked a chubby finger at her nose. “You are about to get what is coming to you, you infernal nuisance.”

“Just so long as I learn love. That's something you never taught in your classes, Professor.”

“I taught the love of knowledge, but you were incapable of learning it.” He paused, reconsidering. “But indubitably you will learn something now,” he added, obscurely gratified.

Metria vanished. Grossclout shook his head. “She is the most annoying female,” he grumbled. “She definitely does not think like a scholar.”

“But she is trying to do something decent,” Gloha said.

“For the wrong reason.” He focused disconcertingly on Gloha. “Whereas your case is far more positive. You deserve the joy you are about to achieve.”

“Joy?” Gloha asked blankly. But the Demon Professor was already turning away.

“I really don't understand demons,” Graeboe said.

“Metria says that he's the only one who can't be fooled,” Gloha replied. “But if he thinks I face my prospects with joy, he's way out of touch.”

Grossclout marched to the podium in front of the benches. “Take your seats, please,” he said in a voice so fraught with authority that the timbers of the castle trembled. “The ceremony is about to commence.”

Immediately the nymphs scrambled to perch cutely on the benches. Magpie appeared before Gloha. “You and Graeboe must sit at the front, as friends of the bride.”

“We aren't exactly friends,” Gloha said.

“All the better, dear. This way.” She guided them to the place.

“All the better?” Graeboe whispered after they were seated.

“I don't understand this at all,” Gloha confessed. Magpie reappeared. “Oh, I'm sorry-I forgot. You are the maid of honor, Gloha.”

“Me!” Gloha exclaimed, horrified. “I don't know anything about-”

“We demons can't interact with the castle directly, and in any event there needs to be a mortal contribution to the ceremony. It's important.”

“But Veleno has been marrying a nymph every day, without any such fanfare.”

“Yes. And none of those marriages lasted. This one will.”

“It will?” Gloha asked, beginning to hope.

“If it is done correctly. Come.”

So Gloha got up to follow Magpie, whose judgment she trusted. The demoness could not interact with Veleno or the things of the castle, but could touch Gloha. Quickly she fashioned a suitable maid-of-honor dress, complete with a dainty little hennin-a long conical hat with a bit of material descending from it. She guided Gloha to a mirror.

There stood a pretty goblin girl whose wings blended nicely with the gown. “Oh, I wish I could always look like this,” Gloha breathed.

“You always do, to others,” Magpie assured her. “They think of you as an angelic little angel. Now you must get out there for the ceremony."

“But I don't know what to do,” she protested.

“Just be there to witness the ceremony, and to take the bouquet during the placing of the ring.”

“That's all?”

“That's enough.” Magpie urged her onward.

The ceremony was already under way. There was music from somewhere, not exactly an organ; it turned out to be Marrow Bones, playing notes on his rib cage. The notes were surprisingly accurate; she recognized the Wedding March.

And there was Metria, in a splendiferously stunning gown and veil, marching down the center aisle with a phenomenal bouquet of flowers, She almost floated, which she certainly could do if she wished to. The nude nymphs went “Ooooo!” almost in unison, wishing they could dress like that.

Veleno waited at the front. He was almost handsome in his dark formal suit.

They came together-and there was Professor Grossclout, speaking words so solemn and full of import that Gloha was to wish ever after that she could remember what they were.

There was a pause. “The ring.”

Trent stepped forward from the other side. He too was handsomely suited. He presented a little box. Gloha realized that the ring must also be of castle substance, so could not be handled by demons. So Trent was playing the part of best man. Gloha wondered if that wasn't taking nonhostility to an extreme. Yet why not? If the marriage actually worked, they would all be free without violence or deceit.

Veleno took out the ring. Metria looked for a place to put her bouquet. Gloha quickly stepped up to take it. But as she did, it puffed into smoke. Oh-it wasn't real; the demoness had formed it out of her own substance to add to the effect. Still, to maintain appearances someone had needed to take it at this stage of the ceremony.

Now came the critical part. Veleno lifted the ring, and Metria lifted her left hand. Would the ring fit on her, or would it pass right through her substance the way all the other things of the castle did?

The ring stayed. Metria held her hand up triumphantly, showing it off. She had become real to the castle.

“Man and wife,” Gloha heard the Professor intone.

Then Veleno took her in his arms and kissed her. His hands did not pass through her, and neither did his lips. She was real to him too.

Satisfied, Professor Grossclout grandly faded out. So did Magpie and Dara, more petitely. They had done what they had come to do.

The scene dissolved into the wedding feast. The nymphs did not need to eat, but they nibbled at the assorted pies anyway. Gloha, Trent, and Graeboe had already eaten, but they also nibbled. Meanwhile the groom and bride disappeared into the nuptial chamber for the consummation, where Metria would make Veleno deliriously happy for an hour or so. Gloha knew it didn't mean anything; what counted was whether the bride remained solid and with her memory intact on the following morning. Until then, nobody could be released. That was the deal.

Meanwhile it was left to the rest of them to clean up. They all pitched in, restoring the castle to its previous condition, with one exception: they left the decorations. Why not be festive another day?

At last it was done. The nymphs retired to their cells to sleep, feeling most comfortable there. In the morning they would remember none of this. But their cells would no longer be locked, so they would be able to come out and deport or disport themselves as they wished. There weren't any fauns here, but perhaps the nymphs could run around and scream a little anyway.

Trent, Marrow, Graeboe, and Gloha sat at the kitchen table, unwinding. Soon they too would return to their cells to sleep, this time taking pillows with them to make it comfortable. Everything depended on the morrow. “Do you think it will take?” Trent asked.

“Oh, I hope so!” Gloha said fervently. “The demons seemed to think it would.”

“I understand that the Professor Demon is never wrong,” Marrow remarked.

“It is odd that he came to handle the service himself,” Graeboe said. “Considering that he has no respect for Metria.”

“His attitude does seem odd,” Marrow agreed. “It was almost as if he thought she wouldn't like being married.”

“He said that she was going to get what was coming to her,” Gloha said, remembering. “And when I said that we weren't exactly Metria's friends, Magpie said it was all the better.”

Trent shook his head. “Strange. I think we have not yet grasped the full import of this occasion.”

They sat in silence for a while and a half, not getting up the gumption to retire after their arduous day.

Metria appeared, wearing a gauzy nightdress which showed the pink halter and panty beneath. “Oh, are you folk still up?” she asked, surprised.

“By inertia,” Trent said. “Why are you here?”

“I made Veleno so deliriously happy that he pooped out. It will take him several moments to recover for the next bout. So I sneaked down to fetch a nice pie.”

“But you don't need to eat, Metria,” Gloha said.

“Not for me. For him. He'll be hungry, after that that effort.”

Even Marrow seemed to be taken aback by this. “You are trying to do something nice for him that isn't what is strictly prescribed by the deal?”

“Well-yes,” the demoness said defensively. “Can't a wife do something for her husband if she wants to?”

“It's almost as if you care,” Graeboe remarked. Metria looked nonplussed. “That must be an illusion.” Trent squinted at her, evidently thinking of something. “Say something mean about him,” he suggested mildly. Metria opened her mouth.

“I-don't care to.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you of having part of a soul,” Trent said.

“That's nonsense! I'm just trying to make him deliriously happy for a few hours. It's a matter of professional pride.”

“Since when do you have that land of pride?” Gloha asked.

“Since-I got married,” the demoness replied, surprised.

“That ceremony-it must have done more than marry you,” Gloha said. “When I took the oath of nonhostility I felt invisible bonds close on me, binding me to what I swore. Did you feel that?”

“Why, yes,” Metria said, similarly surprised. “I was so concerned with doing it exactly right that I didn't pay much attention. It did make me start relating to the castle, so I could pretend to summon the stork with him.”

“Pretend?” Graeboe asked.

“We demons never summon storks unless we want to,” Metria explained. “We just go through the motions, deluding mortals, but it isn't real. Who in her right mind would want to mess with a baby?”

“I would,” Gloha said. “If I had the right-the right family.”

Trent pursed his lips in the very mildest of expressions. “And you don't have the right family, Metria?”

“I didn't say that! Veleno's not a bad man, just isolated. There's nothing wrong with him that a good loving woman can't fix.”

“And are you that woman?”

“Of course not!” Then she looked pained. “But-there's something. I don't know.”

“Is it wonderful yet painful, leaving you so confused you hardly know what you feel?” Graeboe asked.

“That's it exactly!” the demoness agreed. “How did you know?”

“I think you are experiencing the first confused pangs of love,” he said.

“I am? But-but that's what I was looking for!”

“And it isn't what you expected?” Gloha asked, interested.

“No. I don't know what I expected, but not this. It-I don't know if I like it.”

“Love doesn't necessarily care whether you like it,” Trent said sadly. “It can bring you enormous grief. But you would never trade it for any other experience. Metria, I believe that your wedding ceremony brought you half of Veleno's soul. Now you are able to experience the full range of human emotions and commitments.”

“Not half of them?” Gloha asked.

“Half a soul is still a soul,” he said. “It normally regenerates, becoming complete. You have a considerable experience ahead of you.”

“But I didn't want a soul,” Metria protested. “I just wanted to see what love is like.”

“I think Professor Grossclout knew that,” Graeboe said. “He knew you would be getting more than you wanted. He came to make sure it happened.”

“Grossclout!” Metria exclaimed. “That infernal spook! He wanted to get back at me for never taking his classes seriously.”

“I'd say he found a way,” Trent said.

“What am I going to do with a soul?” she expostulated.

“You whatted?” Gloha asked.

“Shouted, yelled, howled, bellowed, proclaimed, argued earnestly-”

“Exclaimed?”

“Whatever,” she agreed crossly. “Say, wait-I didn't say the word!”

“I still didn't understand it,” Gloha said.

“Well, anyway,” the demoness said tragically. “Where will I go, what will I do?”

“Frankly, my dear,” Trent started, with three-fifths of a smile, “I don't-”

“Suffer,” Graeboe said instead. “You'll suffer, Metria.”

“Well, I'll have none of it. I'm going to-” She paused, distracted.

“You're going to what?” Marrow asked.

She sighed. “I'm going to get that pie for him.” She puffed out.

Trent shook his head. “I think I wouldn't care to cross Professor Grossclout,” he remarked.

“If that is his penalty for being crossed, I would gladly do it,” Marrow said. “I want half a soul.”

Gloha saw Graeboe look thoughtful, but he didn't comment. “Well, we had better sleep if we're going to,” she said, standing.

Graeboe tried to stand, but didn't make it. “Perhaps I will remain here,” he said.

He was trying to be gracious about his weakness, and not bother anyone else with it. Gloha didn't want to embarrass him by offering to carry him again. “Maybe I'll stay here too,” she said.

“I should think it would be more comfortable in your private cell,” Marrow said.

“Well, it might, but-” she started.

“So I shall be glad to carry Graeboe there,” the skeleton finished. “He carried me before.”

“That is kind of you,” Graeboe agreed. The skeleton picked him up and walked away.

“I'll fetch pillows,” Gloha said quickly.

But when she had several pillows, she realized that they were too big for her to carry. She would have to make the long trip to the highest cell with one pillow at a time. That promised to be tedious. It would also use up more of the time she had hoped to have for sleeping.

Metria reappeared. “Got a problem?” she inquired.

“None you need to concern yourself about,” Gloha said shortly.