Castle Roogna (7 page)

       Her hair, now unbound, consisted of a mass of writhing little snakes. They were appealingly horrible. But the face was nothing. Just a vacuum, as if the head were a hollow ball with the front panel removed.

       "But-but I saw your face before, all except the eyes-"

       "You saw this mask of my face," she said, holding it up. "And the dark glasses. There was never any chance for you to look into my true face."

       So it seemed. "Then why-?"

       "To scare you off-if you lacked the courage to do what is necessary in order to reach the Good Magician."

       "I just closed my eyes and ran," Dor said.

       "But you ran forward, not back."

       So he had. Even in his terror, he had not given up his quest. Or had he merely run whichever way he happened to be facing? Dor wasn't sure. He considered the gorgon again. Once he got used to the anomaly of her missing face, he found her quite attractive. "But you-what is a gorgon doing here?"

       "I am serving my year's fee, awaiting my Answer." Dor shook his head, trying to get this straight. "You?-if I may ask-what was your Question?"

       "I asked the Good Magician if he would marry me."

       Dor choked. "He-he made you-serve a fee, for that?"

       "Oh, yes. He always charges a year's service, or the equivalent. That's why he has so much magic around the castle. He's been in this business for a century or so."

       "I know all that! But yours was a different kind of-"

       She seemed to smile, behind her invisibility. "No exceptions, except maybe on direct order from the King. I don't mind. I knew what to expect when I came here. Soon my year will be finished, and I will have my Answer."

       Grundy shook his little head. "I thought the old gnome was nuts. But this-he's crazy!"

       "By no means," the gorgon said. "I could make him a pretty good wife, once I learn the ropes. He may be old, but he's not dead, and he needs-"

       "I meant, to make you work a year-why doesn't he just marry you, and have your service for life?"

       "You want me to ask him a second Question, and serve another year for the Answer?" she demanded.

       "Uh, no. I was just curious. I don't really understand the Good Magician."

       "You and everyone else!" she agreed wryly, and Dor began to feel an affinity for this shapely, faceless female. "But slowly I'm learning his ways. It is a good question you raise; I shall have to think about it, and maybe I can figure out that answer for myself. If he wants my service, why would he settle for a year of It when he could readily have it all? If he doesn't want my service, why not send me out to guard the moat or something where he won't have to see me every day? There has got to be a reason." She scratched her head, causing several snakes to hiss warningly.

       "Why do you even want to marry him?" Grundy asked. "He's such a gloomy old gnome, he's no prize for a woman, especially a pretty one."

       "Who said I wanted to marry him?"

       Grundy did a rare double take. "You distinctly-your Question-"

       "That is for information, golem. Once I know whether he will marry me, I'll be able to decide whether I should do it. It's a difficult decision."

       "Agreed," Grundy said. "King Trent must have labored similarly before marrying Queen Iris."

       "Do you love him?" Dor inquired.

       "Well, I think I do. You see, he's the first man who ever associated with me without…you know." She nodded her head toward the corner. There was the statue of a man, carved beautifully in marble.

       "That's-?" Dor asked, alarmed.

       "No, I really am a statue," the stone answered him. "A fine original work of sculpture."

       "Humfrey won't let me do any real conversions," the gorgon said. "Not even for old times' sake. I'm just here to identify the foolish or to scare off the fault-hearted. The Magician won't answer cowards."

       "Then he won't answer me," Dor said sadly. "I was so scared-"

       "No, that's not cowardice. Being terrified but going ahead and doing what must be done-that's courage. The one who feels no fear is a fool, and the one who lets fear rule him is a coward. You are neither. Same for you, golem. You never deserted your friend, and were willing to risk your precious flesh body to help him. I think the Magician will answer."

       Dor considered that. "I sure don't feel very brave," he said at last. "All I did was hide my face."

       "I admit it would have been more impressive had you closed your eyes and fenced with me blind!" she said. "Or snatched up a mirror to use. We keep several handy, for those who have the wit to take that option. But you're only a boy. The standards are not as strict."

       "Uh, yes," Dor agreed, still not pleased.

       "You should have seen me when I came here," she warmly. "I was so frightened, I hid my face-just as you did."

       "If you didn't hide your face, you'd turn everyone to stone," Grundy pointed out

       "That too," she agreed.

       "Say," Grundy demanded. "It was twelve years ago when you met the Good Gnome. I was there, remember? How come you're just now asking your Question?"

       "I left my island at the Time of No Magic," she said frankly. "Suddenly no magic worked at all in the whole Land of Xanth, and the magic things were dying or turning mundane, and all the old spells were undone. I don't know why that was-"

       "I know," Grundy said. "But I can't tell, except to say it won't happen again."

       "All my former conquests reverted to life. There were some pretty rowdy men there, you know-trolls and things. So I got all flustered and fled. I was afraid they would hurt me."

       "That was a sensible fear," Grundy said. "When they didn't catch you, they went back to the Magic Dust village where most of them had come from, and I guess they're still there. Lot of very eager women in that village, after all that time with all their men gone."

       "But when the magic came back, the Magician's spell on my face was gone. It was one of the one-shot variety, that carried only until interrupted. A lot of spells are like that, mine included. So I had my face again, and I-you know."

       Dor knew. She had started making statues again.

       "By then, I knew what was happening," she continued. "I had been pretty naive, there on my isolated island, but I was learning. I really didn't want to be that way. So I remembered what Humfrey had said about Mundania, where magic doesn't ever work-that certainly must be a potent counterspell laid on that land!-and I went there. And he was right. I was a normal girl. I had thought I could never stand to leave there, but the Time of No Magic showed me that maybe I could stand it after all. And when I tried, I could.

       It was sort of strange and fun, not nearly as bad as I had feared. People accepted me, and men-do you know I'd never kissed a man in Xanth?"

       Dor was ashamed to comment He had never kissed a woman other than his mother, who of course didn't count. He thought fleetingly of Millie. If-

       "But after a while I began to miss Xanth," the gorgon continued. "The magic, the special creatures-do you know I even got to miss the tangle trees? When you're born to magic you can't just set it aside; it is part of your being. So I had to come back. But that meant-you know, more statues. So I went to Humfrey's castle. By that time I knew he was the Good Magician-he never told me that when we met!-and that he wasn't all that approachable, and I got girlishly nervous. I knew that if I wanted to be with a man in Xanth, I mean man-to-woman, it would have to be one like him. Who had the power to neutralize my talent. The more I thought about it-well, here I am."

       "Didn't you have trouble getting into the castle?"

       "Oh, yes! It was awful. There was this foghorn guarding the moat, and I found this little boat there, but every time I tried to cross that horn blasted out such columns of fog that I couldn't see or hear anything, and the boat always turned around and came back to shore. It was a magic boat, you see; you had to steer it or it went right back to its dock. I got all covered in fog, and my hair was hissing something awful; it doesn't like that sort of thing."

       Her hair, of course, consisted of myriad tiny snakes or eels. They were rather cute, now that he was getting used to the style. "How did you get across the moat, then?"

       "I finally got smart. I steered the boat directly toward the foghorn, no matter how bad the fog got. It was like swimming through a waterfall! When I reached the horn-I was across. Because it was inside, not outside."

       "Oops-the gnome cometh," Grundy said.

       "Oh, I must get back to work!" the gorgon said, hastily tripping out of the room. "I was in the middle of the laundry when you arrived; he uses more socks!" She was gone.

       "Gnomes do have big dirty feet," Grundy remarked. "sort of like goblins, in that respect."

       The Good Magician Humfrey walked in. He was, indeed, gnomelike, old and gnarled and small. His feet were big and bare and, yes, dirty. "There's not a clean pair of socks in the whole castle!" he grumped. "Girl, haven't you done that laundry yet? I asked for it an hour ago!"

       "Uh, Good Magician-" Dor said, moving toward him,

       "It isn't as if socks are that complicated to wash," Humfrey continued irritably. "I've shown her the cleaning spell." He looked around. "Where is that girl? Does she think the whole Land of Xanth is made of stone, merely waiting on her convenience?"

       "Uh, Good Magician Humfrey," Dor said, trying again. "I have come to ask-"

       "I can't stand another minute without my socks!" Humfrey said, sitting down on the step. "I'm no barefoot boy any more, and even when I was, I always wore shoes. I spilled an itching-powder formula here once, and it gets between my toes. If that fool girl doesn't-"

       "Hey, old gnome!" Grundy bawled deafeningly. Humfrey glanced at him in an offhand way. "Oh, hello, Grundy. What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you how to become real?"

       "I am real, gnome," Grundy said. "I'm just speaking your language, as is my talent. I'm here with my friend Dor, showing him how to get a Magician's attention."

       "Dor doesn't need a Magician's attention. He's a Magician himself. He needs a quest. He ought to go find the secret of making zombies human, so he can please Millie the ghost. Besides, I'm not dressed for company. My socks-"

       "To hell with your socks!" Grundy exclaimed. "The boy's come all the way here to ask you how to get that secret, and you have to give him an Answer."

       "To hell with my socks? Not before they're clean! I wouldn't be caught dead in dirty socks."

       "All right, gnome, I'll fetch your socks," Grundy said. "You stay right here on this step and talk to Dor, okay?" He jumped down and scurried from the room.

       "Uh, I'm sorry-" Dor began hesitantly.

       "It did take Grundy some time to get the message, but the cranial capacity of golems is very small. Now that he has left us alone, I can convey private reflections."

       "Oh, I don't mind Grundy-"

       "The fact is, Dor, you are slated to be the next King of Xanth. Now I suppose I could charge you the usual fee for my Answer, but that might be impolitic if you were to become King before I died. My references suggest that will be the case. One can never be absolutely sure about the future, of course; the future-history texts misrepresent it almost as much as the past history texts do the past. But why gamble foolishly? You are a full Magician in your own right, with power as great as mine, and of a similar genre. Given time, you will know as much as I. It becomes expedient to deal with fellow Magicians on an equal basis. Besides which, a year out of your life at this stage might in some devious way pose a threat to the welfare of your father, Bink, who cares greatly for you, and that would be an unconscionable mischief. I remember when I was attempting to fathom his talent, and the invisible giant came marching by with a tread worse than an ogre's and almost shook down the castle. But that's another matter. In this case I can not provide your full Answer anyway, because there is an ambiguity in the record. It seems it is a trade secret kept by another Magician. Are you willing to make a deal?"

       "I, uh-" Dor said, not overwhelmed, but verging on it. Future history? Kingship in the foreseeable future? His father's mysterious talent? Another Magician?

       "Very good. What you want is the Elixir of Restoration. What I want is historical information about a critically vague but important Wave of Xanth. The elixir is similar to the Healing Elixir that is common enough today, but is of a distinct variant formula adapted to zombies. Only the Zombie Master of the Fourth Wave knows the formula. If I enable you to interview him, will you render me a complete accounting of your adventures in that realm?"

       "The-the Fourth Wave? But-"

       "Then it's agreed!" Humfrey said. "Sign your name to this release form, here, so I can tie my history text into the spell." He shoved a quill into Dor's flaccid hand and a printed parchment under it, and Dor almost automatically signed. "So good to do business with a reasonable Magician. Ah, here are my socks at last. High time!" For the golem had reappeared, staggering under the huge burden.

       Humfrey leaned forward and began squeezing his big feet into the socks. It was no wonder, Dor thought, that they got dirty so rapidly! The Magician wasn't bothering to wash his feet before donning the socks.

       "The problem with the Fourth Wave of human colonization of Xanth is that it occurred circa eight centuries ago. I trust you are familiar with Xanth history? The centaur pedagogue gave you the scoop? Good. So I don't need to remind you how the people came in brutal Waves of conquest, killing and stealing and ravaging until they wasted it all, then had nothing better to do than settle down and watch their children turn magic, whereupon some new Wave of no-magic barbarians would invade and victimize them. So a Wave could be several generations in duration. The boldest of these, for reasons we won't go into now, was the Fourth Wave. The greatest of the ancient Magicians lived then: King Roogna, who built Castle Roogna; his archenemy and dinner companion, Magician Murphy; and the Zombie Master, whom you will interview. Plus lesser talents like the neo-Sorceress Vadne. How you will elicit the formula from the Zombie Master I don't know; he was something of a recluse, not sociable the way I am."