Geis of the Gargoyle (48 page)

When the bath was done, Iris rose and stood before the full-length mirror.
 
She looked splendid.
 
She knew 999 illusions, give or take a few, so normally used illusions the way artists used their rainbow of colored big hogments or little pigments, to give the viewer sights as beautifully rendered as fine paintings.
 
In fact she regarded herself as an artist with illusions.
 
But right now she didn't need any illusion.
 
For this moment, here in the bathing chamber.
 
Iris saw herself as young, healthy, slender, and with enough non-slendemess to be appealing to whatever man might better not be watching.

"Venus rising from the sea," Magpie murmured appreciatively.
 
"It seems too bad to cover it up." She nevertheless produced a lovely pair of p*nties and br*, and then an ornate robe.

One of the children woke.
 
"You put on what?" Surprise asked.

"Undies," Magpie said quickly.
 
"Now go take your own bath."

That sobered the child in a hurry.
 
But then Surprise had an idea.
 
"Can we have another vegetable fight?"

"May we," Magpie said sternly.

"May we?" The other children were waking now.

"Have a fruit fight instead," Magpie suggested, producing several soap bars in the shape of lemons, grapes, apples, cherries, and such.
 
One was even in the form of a small explosive pineapple: the kind that acted just like a real pineapple, but on a harmless scale.

The children gazed at those a bit suspiciously, suspecting that the fruits might be better at cleaning than at splatting.
 
Then Magpie produced soap in the shape of a giant watermelon that would make a horrendous splash and get water all over everything outside the tub, and that decided the children.
 
They grabbed the small soaps and rolled the big one.
 
"Last one in's a rotten eggplant!"

"I will watch them," Magpie said.
 
"You go on to meet Arte Menia now."

"Who?"

"The master of the house.
 
He returned from his long business trip last night, and learned of your presence, so you must make his acquaintance now.
 
It would not be mannerly to remain in his house otherwise."

Indeed it would not; Iris had been brought up to be properly behaved, and this was integral to such behavior.
 
"Where is he?"

"Downstairs in the office foyer.
 
He has some paperwork to catch up on."

So Iris gathered her elegant borrowed robe around her and tripped daintily down the stairs to the office foyer.
 
There was a handsome young man sorting papers.
 
"Excuse me," she said.
 
"I am the Sor-I am Iris." Because some innate caution reminded her to maintain the secret of her identity.
 
"I have been your-I stayed overnight." She wasn't certain whether she counted as guest or scullery maid.

The man stood.
 
He had wavy brown hair and a small butt.
 
"I am glad to meet you.
 
Iris.
 
I am Arte, master of this house.
 
Rum told me you were beautiful, but he understated the case."

Iris blushed, for she was using no illusion at the moment, so was being complimented for her natural appearance.
 
That was a rarity.
 
"Thank you," she said.
 
"Rum has been most kind.
 
The children and I were freezing in the storm, and he gave us food, shelter, and work to do."

"Yes, he's shorthanded," Arte said.
 
His eyes were shades of gray.
 
"But you will not have to work any more.
 
You are obviously a fine lady." He took her hand in his, lifted itIand kissed it.
 
His hand and lips-were warm and firm.

Iris felt such a thrill she almost swooned.
 
What a noble man he was! She opened her mouth to say something responsive, but all that emerged was an embarrassing titter.

"You must have breakfast with me," Arte said, drawing her from the study toward the banquet hall.
 
He seated her across from him with a flourish so that they could look into each other's eyes.

Rum appeared.
 
"What will it be this morning, master?" the demon asked.

"The usual for me, and something that tries to approach the worthiness of the lady for her."

"Very good, sir." Rum vanished.

"But I can fetch my own-" Iris started.

Arte put his firm hand on her trembling one.
 
"I would not care to be deprived of the exquisite pleasure of your company for even a moment, now that I have met you." He smiled, showing his even white teeth and half a dimple.
 
Dazzled, she was afraid she was going to melt, which would be embarrassing.

Rum reappeared with two steaming platters.
 
"A fried dragon egg for you, master, with hedgehog bacon on the side, and a nuclear fruit for the lady." He set them down and disappeared.

Iris looked at the meal.
 
She had never heard of anyone having dragon's eggs for breakfast routinely; they were not the easiest things to come by.
 
Certainly a dragon's egg was considered to be the most manly breakfast available.
 
As for hers-it looked good, being a cluster of floweriike balls of scintillating circles and ellipses surrounding glowing spheres in the center.
 
But she wasn't sure how to eat it.

"Merely pop it in your mouth," Arte recommended, divining her doubt.
 
He lifted one of the bacon strips, which Iris recognized as deriving from the kind of pig that was made from the leaves of a certain type of hedge that often hogged the best soil of Xanth.

Dubiously, she lifted one of the balls and put it in her mouth.
 
And froze, awed by the experience.
 
Because there was an immediate and extremely potent explosion of taste.
 
It was the most delightful gustatory sensation she had ever experienced.
 
She felt as if she was wafting across a field of roses and being buoyed by the exquisite scents.

After a brief eternity or a very long instant she settled softly back to a semblance of reality.
 
"Oh," she breathed rapturously.
 
"What is it?"

"The fruit of the nuclear plant," Arte said.
 
'The plant detonates when taken from the ground, and the fruit taste explodes when eaten.
 
It is considered a delicacy suitable for a lady, though admittedly unworthy of a lady as lovely and gracious as you."

"But it's by far the best-tasting fruit I've had," she protested.
 
"I've encountered nothing remotely like this before."

"Then you have been eating below your station." He took a bite of his egg.

Iris considered the rest of her plate.
 
The fruits were of different colors, being green, blue, yellow, purple, and polka dot.
 
She had eaten a red one, which had turned out to be rose-flavored.
 
What experience awaited her with the other colors?

She tried a yellow one.
 
This time the explosion carried her into a realm of buttercups brimming with the sweetest, creamiest butter, fragrant vanilla plants, and tangy lemon drops.
 
She would have thought it the finest taste in all Xanth, had she not just experienced the rose flavor.
 
As it was, she gave up trying to make comparisons and just let herself drift through the little slice of paradise.

By the time Arte had finished his most manly egg and Iris had imbibed the last maidenly fruit, she was so pleasantly dizzy that everything seemed clothed in warm fuzz.

"I must show you the premises," Arte said, standing firmly.

Iris tried to stand, but now felt so delicate she almost swooned.
 
Fortunately he caught her in his manly strong arms before she fell.
 
"But I see you are tired," he said.
 
"Let me take you to my room to lie down."

This made such perfect sense that she was more than satisfied to accept his guidance.
 
Soon they were in his private room, which was even fancier than the one she and the children had used.
 
It had an emperor-sized bed that looked wonderfully inviting.

Then he kissed her.
 
This was like nuclear fruit intensified.
 
Her wits exploded into nothingness, and she completed the swoon she had started downstairs.

In a moment, or perhaps two instants, she recovered.
 
She found herself lying on the bed with Arte.
 
Neither of them had any clothing on.

"Oh," she said with a maidenly gasp.
 
"What happened?" For it occurred to her that something might have.
 
She knew that women had a power men lacked: to signal a stork while asleep.
 
Had she been so uncouth as to try that?

"You said something about summoning the stork," he said.
 
"So I removed our clothing.
 
But then it occurred to me that you were not wholly rational, so I waited."

"You mean you-we-didn't-?"

"I apologize if you wished otherwise," he said.
 
"But I remembered that sometimes folk are not in their normal emotional state after eating nuclear fruit."

That was the understatement of the hour! She had been a third of the way freaked out with the pleasure of the fruit.
 
She would have thought that he might take advantage of that state.
 
But it seemed he hadn't.
 
Her body, now that she thought about it, indicated that he hadn't.

She might have been angry if he had.
 
But now that she knew he hadn't, she had the opposite mood.
 
She liked him even better.
 
"Then let's do it now!" she said.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said.

He put his arms around her, and she turned into him for another kiss.
 
They drew close together.

The door crashed open.
 
Several children piled into the room.
 
"There you are!" Surprise cried jubilantly.

Iris barely had time to plunk an illusion blanket over their bare bodies.
 
"Whatever are you up to?" she demanded, not entirely pleased by the intrusion.
 
She suspected that Arte had a similar sentiment.

"We finished our bath and now we're hungry," Surprise

said.
 
"So we came looking for you.
 
Who is that man in bed with you?"

Arte glanced at the illusion blanket.
 
His eyes narrowed significantly.
 
Evidently he was catching on to the nature of her magic.
 
But he did not make an issue of that at the moment.
 
"I am Arte Menia, the master of this house.
 
Who are you?"

"They are the children I was traveling with," Iris said quickly.
 
"They are innocent waifs who mean no harm."

"Then let them get themselves down to the kitchen for their breakfast," Arte said tersely.

Iris drew the illusion blanket closely about her body as she sat up.
 
"Go down to the kitchen; Rum will feed you," she said.

"Okay," Surprise said.
 
The children piled out, slamming the door behind them.

"Now where were we?" Arte inquired, turning to her.