Harpy Thyme (33 page)

Gloha didn't want to hear that, so she inquired about a detail. “The giants and skeletons are working together?"

“Yes. The giants can travel far, but aren't much for detail work like peeking into beerbarrel tree knotholes. So they are carrying handfuls of skeletons, and the skeletons do the peeking.” The demoness smiled. “Some ordinary folk have freaked out when they peeked into houses.”

Gloha could appreciate why. “I hope somebody finds it. It would be really mean of the Good Magician to tell him he'd find help, if it can't be.”

“Yes, Humfrey always amused me before. Now I would be sorry to learn of such a deception.”

“Well, you have a soul now.” Gloha sat up. “I guess I haven't been much of a friend to you. I've been distracted.”

“It's a funny thing,” Metria said. “Once you said you would be my friend, I got much more confidence, and it was easier to adjust. I didn't need your advice.”

“That's the way friendship works sometimes.” She looked at Graeboe. “If only I could be more of a friend to him.”

“You've done all you could, haven't you?”

“I haven't saved his life. I try to find ways to help, but I can't do what really counts.”

The demoness looked unusually thoughtful, as if her recent experience had given her some insight. “I'm sure you'll find a way.”

Then two centaurs appeared in the sky. Chex and Cynthia. “It was there!” Cynthia exclaimed, her pigtails bobbing. “Right where I'd heard it might be.”

Gloha leaped up. “You found the trans-plant? Oh, wonderful!”

“Don't be overjoyed just yet,” Chex said. “It is by no means easy to reach.”

“We'll reach it anyway,” Gloha said. “We have to. Where is it?”

“In a crevice on Mount Pin-A-Tuba. That's not a nice mountain.”

Sudden dread surged through Gloha. “I know. Oh, this is awful. How will we ever get to it without being buried in burning ashes?”

Magician Trent strode up to join them. He accepted Metria's sprig of bloodroot and tucked it into a pocket. “I think the creatures who came to help us will have some real action after all. We shall have to lay siege to the mountain.”

“But that won't get us safely into its crevice!” Gloha protested.

“It will if the distraction is sufficient.”

Gloha saw the logic. The evil mountain wouldn't be able to keep track of every single goblin and harpy. If they were careful, and escaped its notice long enough, the ploy might work.

The retreat sounded, and the various parties began returning to the rendezvous. As they did, they got briefed. There were hollers and screeches as the goblins and harpies learned that violent action would be required, but abrupt silence when they found out the nature of the enemy. This was more of a challenge than they really cared for. But neither group could back down in the presence of the other. The skeletons were not as concerned, being less vulnerable to hot rocks. The giants were neutral; they could normally get away from something like that in two or three giant steps, but they knew that they could be hurt by flying boulders, and the closer they got to the mountain the worse it would be.

“Now we shall have to get moving,” Trent said.

“But the siege hasn't even started,” Gloha said. “Precisely. We must seek a devious route that will take longer, so that the mountain never suspects the real object. The siege will be in place by the time Pin-A-Tuba might realize that an insignificant party is approaching-and then it may assume that this is merely a distraction from the real object. This is chancy, I agree, but seems to be the best course.”

“What is the real object?” Gloha asked. “I mean, the one that we hope the mountain will think is the real object?”

“The harpies discovered a marvelous lake on the other side of the volcano from the trans-plant. They call it Miracle Lake. The apparent object will be to capture and exploit that lake.”

“Why would anybody want a lake beside a mean-spirited volcano?”

“There are boats on that lake, floating at anchor. Barnacles grow on the bottoms of those boats. The surfaces of those barnacles are so highly glossy as to be reflective. They can be harvested and assembled into full-sized mirrors. Thus they are mirror-barnacles, or miracles for short.”

“But mirrors can be made from glass or polished stone,” she said. “Why go to the trouble of fashioning them from shiny barnacles?”

“They are magic barnacles. They make magic mirrors.”

“Oh!” Gloha exclaimed, suddenly understanding. “I never knew where magic mirrors came from.”

“There may be other origins,” Trent said. “But I suspect that we have stumbled upon one of Magician Humfrey's secret sources. Certainly the mountain will zealously guard its treasure. So I think this is as good a diversion as any.”

“I should think so,” she agreed, impressed. “I wouldn't mind having one of those mirrors myself.”

He smiled. “You have other business, I think.”

“Oh, of course! I wasn't suggesting-” Then she realized that he was teasing her. His ways were sometimes so subtle that she had trouble interpreting them. That was part of what she liked about him. He was just so-so manly.

He turned to other business. “Metria and Veleno are now scouting out a possible route to the trans-plant. They seem to work well together.”

“But Veleno can't go near that mountain.”

“He can in his present form.”

“His-?”

“I transformed him. He is a parrot legal, one of the few creatures the volcano tolerates near its cone. Perhaps because they are very good at arguing their cases.”

“Arguing cases?” she asked blankly.

“Parrots are talkative birds, and these ones like to perform legal tasks, though they are neither secretary-birds nor lawyer-birds. They are merely paralegals. They argue Pin-A-Tuba's case that he has a right to sound off in as great a volume as he chooses, though he blows phenomenal amounts of gas and ash into the sky. So he doesn't object to their presence. Veleno is flying through the region, while Metria makes spot detail checks on the terrain. I think they'll get the job done.”

“But why should Veleno help us? He was holding us captive, and he almost wanted to-to make me be his-”

“He was doing what he thought he had to, to achieve freedom from his enchantment,” Trent said. “You caused Metria to marry him. He is grateful, and perhaps suffering some tinge of guilt. He believes that the guilt will not entirely dissipate until he has helped you achieve your quest, just as you helped him achieve his.”

Gloha shook her head. “I suppose it does make sense. But why couldn't Metria explore the whole region herself?”

“Because she's a demoness, and the volcano doesn't much like demons. It seems that they used to play pranks on him, such as dropping stink bombs into his mouth. So whenever a demon materializes close by, Pin-A-Tuba lets fly with vigor and blasts it out of there. Metria can remain close only so long as she never materializes.”

“But then she can't communicate with anyone, can she?”

“She can communicate with Veleno, because she has half his soul. So Veleno is indeed proving to be useful to our cause.”

Gloha shook her head again. It was amazing how things could turn out.

Metria appeared. “We have a route,” she reported. “I didn't have time to investigate every nuance, but I think it's good. It won't be fun, but it should get you there.”

“Where's Veleno?”

“He paused to argue a case with another parrot legal who didn't recognize him. He'll be along soon.”

Indeed, in only four moments the parrot winged in. He had bright purple plumage with orange stripes. Metria held out her hand, and he landed on it. She brought him in and kissed him on the beak. “I have been beakissed,” he exclaimed, fluttering his wings. “There is no precedent.”

“Are you ready for your next form?” Trent inquired.

“Proceed with your case, counselor,” the parrot said.

The Magician put his hand close, and the parrot became a glob of goo. “Eeek!” Metria screamed in almost nymphly fashion, trying to hold the goo in her hands. But it slipped through her fingers and landed with a splat on the ground.

Metria turned to face Trent. “What did you do to my love?” she demanded. “He's all icky!”

“No he isn't,” Trend said mildly. “He's merely not yet quite firm. He will shape up in a moment.”

Sure enough, in exactly one moment the blob shaped itself into what appeared to be a reclining chair. Metria touched the surface. “Oh, he's like centaur hide,” she said appreciatively.

“Precisely. He is ready to carry Graeboe to the transplant.”

“But what kind of creature is he?” Gloha asked.

“A slowmud. A smaller cousin of Swiftmud. Large enough to carry one elf. He can hear and understand us, but can respond only with bubbles: white for yes, black for no, and shades of gray for other responses.”

“Carry an elf?” Gloha asked. "You mean-?”

“Graeboe lacks the strength to make this trip,” Trent reminded her. “We are fortunate that he was able to rest and recuperate enough to survive beyond noon.”

That was certainly true. Graeboe remained asleep, or-

Gloha hastily checked him. His eyes were open, but his forehead was cool. “Oh, Graeboe, you're fading!” she said.

He gave her a reassuring smile, but it was a weak one.

“We need to reach that plant before the day is out,” Trent said quietly. “Does your route permit that, Metria?”

“Yes, if you move right along,” the demoness said. “I'll lead the way. I won't be able to solidify near the mountain, but Veleno will receive my communications.”

“You had better lead invisibly from the start,” Trent said. “So that we can work out the miscues before we get within range of the mountain.”

“Gotcha,” She smoked out.

He turned to Gloha. “I think it will be best if you move Graeboe to the chair.”

Gloha agreed. She got down and slid her arms under the elf form and the blanket. She heaved him up, wincing as she saw him wince. She set him carefully in the chair, which adjusted to accommodate the body. The surface of the slowmud was plush and did seem to be about as comfortable as it could be. Trent had chosen the transformation well.

“Lead on, Metria,” Trent said.

The demoness did not appear. But Veleno started to move. He just slid smoothly along the ground, in the manner the larger Swiftmud had, evidently responding to Metria's hidden touch or silent word. Shared souls were wonderful.

“But we can't get there from here,” Gloha said, hurrying after the slowmud, which was getting to respectable velocity. “It's beyond the Faun & Nymph Retreat, Lake Ogre-Chobee, and the Region of Madness. It took us days to come this far. How can we do it in hours?”

“Maybe we can go into ogre-drive,” Trent said, unconcerned as they moved onto a slight hill. “Or take giant steps.”

“But we're not-”

The hill rose into the air. “Eek!” Gloha cried, exactly like a nymph. She kicked her feet, flung her hair about, spread her wings, and flew up, alarmed.

Trent and Marrow sat down beside the chair. “On the other hand, let's just relax,” Trent said. The group rising up beyond the tops of the trees.

Chex and Cynthia flew over to join Gloha. “I see you are on your way to the nasty mountain,” the elder centaur said. “We can't go there, so we'll return home now. But please stop by when your quest is done.”

“Yes, please do,” Cynthia said. “I really enjoyed traveling with you and Magician Trent.” There was just the suggestion of a flush as she mentioned the name, as if she had some unchildish memory. “I would hate to lose touch.”

“I, uh, of course,” Gloha said, somewhat discombobulated if not actually disconcerted, because she understood Cynthia's memory all too well. Also, she was confused by the mysterious flying hill.

“I'm so glad I was able to help,” Cynthia said.

“Yes. Thank you.”

The centaurs flew away, looking somewhat like dam and filly, or more properly dam and future filly-in-law.

Then Gloha saw a giant footprint form in a field. Oh-an invisible giant was carrying them! One whose breath didn't smell. Now she realized that the hill the others rode on was in the general shape of a hand with a tarpaulin spread across it. Somehow she hadn't gotten the word about this detail.

She flew to the hand and landed. There was no sense wearing herself out with a long flight.

Then she remembered Trent's pun: take giant steps. On the other hand. Figures of speech to be taken literally. Darn the man!

In a surprisingly short time their flying island sank down to the land. In the distance was the peak of a smoking mountain. She saw other islands floating in, and realized that the armies of goblins, skeletons, and harpies were being similarly transported. “The giants can't approach the volcano for the same reason the demons can't,” Trent remarked. “It seems that once an absentminded giant trod on one of Pin-A-Tuba's ash gardens, and now none of them are welcome. A boulder of hot rock can make an uncomfortable burn. But the giants are contributing to the effort in this manner before going home.” He patted the tarp. “And we certainly appreciate the transportation.” The flesh beneath gave a twitch of appreciation. Gloha knew why the giant did not speak; it would give away the operation if the mountain overheard.

They dismounted from the hand, and the tarp slid off and became limp. The hand had departed.

They were at the edge of a dry plain spread with what looked like dishes. Veleno, answering an invisible directive, slid briskly into it. Trent and Marrow paced it on either side. Gloha was left perplexed again.

Unable to subdue her curiosity, she went to inspect the closest of the dishes. It turned out to contain what looked like vanilla ice cream. What was that doing way out here in nowhere? She checked another. It contained several brownies, smelling very chocolaty. A third dish contained butterscotch pudding. Others had pie, cake, tarts, sweets, fruits, sugared nuts, and assorted other desserts.

Suddenly it registered. This wasn't a desert plain-it was a dessert plain! Filled with plain desserts. In fact it must be the region of Just Desserts she had heard about but never expected to visit.

Well, there was no sense in letting all this wonderful food go to waste. She picked up a dish with a mouth-watering slice of meringue pie. She was about to eat it when Marrow's skull turned to face her. “That may not be wise,” the skeleton said. “Fumes from the volcano may have tainted these desserts.”