Heaven Cent (15 page)

Slowly Fracto was shoved away. His visage was a fright to behold as he realized he was being bested; Dolph had never before seen a cloud as grim and dark as this. Fracto's sport had been spoiled; he could not wash out this celebration.

At last the evil cloud gave up, and drifted away to other mischief. The monsters growled a cheer. Then they dismantled their wind machine and returned to the festivities.

Dolph was pleased. He had in his small way exerted the quality of leadership that was expected of a future king, even if he couldn't take credit for it. Now that he had come to know these monsters, he liked them, and he was glad he had been able to share in this event. In addition, he had managed to settle the matter of the firewater opal, because Draco was going to give it back.

Dolph could not think of anything that could spoil his satisfaction. This had become a wholly good event.

Had he but known . . .

Disgruntled, Marrow Bones settled himself into the dragon's nest. He did not like this at all. He should not have let Dolph go to the ceremony; the boy was only nine years old, which was young by human standards, and could get into all sorts of mischief without adult supervision. Draco seemed to be an honorable dragon, so probably would not break the truce, but there would be many monsters there who were hungry and not pledged to pass up such a morsel. Even if Dolph remained undiscovered, mere could be trouble. This was to be a wedding ceremony, and centaurs were notoriously open about natural functions; suppose someone let slip the secret of stork summoning in the boy's presence? Dolph's body might not be hurt, but his mind could be irreparably changed.

Even if Dolph made it back safely in body and mind, there would still be the matter of the firewater opal. The truce was only that; when it ended, there would be battle again, and the sides seemed evenly matched. Marrow had believed that the boy could assume a form that would thwart the dragon; otherwise he would have been more cautious about this encounter. But Draco was an uncommonly savvy dragon, and this was Draco's home territory. Suppose Dolph made a mistake and got severely chomped? That would be Marrow's responsibility too. Queen Irene might be watching from Castle Roogna via the Tapestry, but her avenues of rescue would be sharply limited. She would have to send help, perhaps a man with a dragon net, but could this arrive in time? Marrow seriously doubted it. This Quest had gotten seriously out of hand!

But things had happened too quickly for his hollow head to assimilate, and the boy had gone off to the ceremony. For all the likely folly of it, Marrow could understand Dolph's interest. Chex was a fine mare, and this was likely to be a fine wedding. Obviously the stubborn centaur community would not sanction such an event, so it was up to the monsters. Marrow could not understand why the centaurs, an obvious crossbreed between the human and the equine folk, were so insistent on the purity of the species. They were similarly conservative about magic, exiling any centaur who evinced a magic talent. Yet without crossbreeding and magic, where would Xanth be? As dull as Mundania, almost by definition! Not only did the Mundanes practice neither, they believed that neither was possible. It simply was not feasible to relate to the Mundane attitude; the Mundanes just had to be left to their own drear existence.

Well, at least he could locate the firewater opal while he waited. He would not take it, of course; he had agreed to protect the nest during the dragon's absence, however sloppily the agreement had been foisted on him, and he would do that to the best of his limited ability. But when they returned, and resumed the battle, the gem would be needed. Assuming that Dolph won—and of course he had to win, because otherwise they would be unable to redeem Grace’l from the merwoman.

Grace’l. Now there was a pretty thought! Marrow realized that he had been long away from the gourd, and from his own kind; the notion of a companion skeleton was quite appealing. Grace’l had the most shapely bones he could remember. Of course she would be returning to the gourd in due course—yet she had declined when given the opportunity. Dolph had demonstrated his ability to assume the form of a gourd, so that meant that Grace’l could return home at any time. Why had she not done so?

It was most tempting to believe that she found Marrow's company as intriguing as he found hers. Marrow had been lost for a long time before being found and brought to Xanth; he had forgotten what romantic experience he might have had. His recent experiences outside the gourd had deepened and broadened and lengthened his awareness of many things, and changed his perspective, so that he was no longer truly a creature of the gourd. He knew that he would now be a poor hand at the construction of bad dreams; no self-respecting night mare would accept one of his efforts. He didn't even scare people anymore! So it was possible that he did not impress Grace’l. But she impressed him, and if she elected to remain longer in Xanth…

His thoughts were brought to a rude halt by a sinister sound. The fading thoughts rattled around in his skull for a moment before settling into a formless mass and sinking out of sight. He focused his attention on the sound.

It was a quiet tapping elsewhere in the cave. He knew it was not normal, because the bats stirred. “Did you do that, you airhead?” Brick Bat chittered.

“No, guano-face,” he replied.

“Listen, bone-brain, if you weren't on that nest, I'd show you some guano! Why Lord Draco tolerates you there I'll never understand!” The other bats echoed the sentiment.

“That's because you're bats,” Marrow said with satisfaction. “Are you going to investigate that suspicious sound or aren't you?”

The bat chittered something indecipherable and flew off to investigate. Marrow, abruptly nervous about prospects, resumed his quest for the firewater opal. Could something be coming to raid the nest during the dragon's absence? He had hoped that all would be quiet; he had problems enough worrying about Dolph.

The tapping continued. After a moment a bat flew to perch at the edge of the nest. “Hey, emaciated, I don't like this,” Brick confided. "Sounds as if something is tunneling through the wall.''

“I don't like it either, skin-wing. Do you think something caught on to Draco's absence? I could blow my whistle and summon him back.”

“Don't blow the whistle!” the bat cried. “If we bring him back, and it's nothing, and he misses the ceremony because of us, he'll toast us all to ashes!”

Marrow was inclined to respect Brick's judgment in this matter. They certainly didn't want a false alarm. They were now allies in their desire to avoid trouble. “Could it be a rockworm who lost its way?”

“Rockworms don't tap, they grind.”

“Better keep a good ear on it, then,” Marrow decided. “Just remember, if there's trouble, we're on the same side until the dragon returns.”

“More's the pity, bare-skull,” Brick said, taking off.

Marrow kept searching. Suddenly he spied it: a beautiful stone that glinted with liquid fire. The firewater opal!

Then he stared. There were two of them! He rubbed his eye sockets with a bone finger, but the stones remained. He picked them up. It was true: twin opals. Which one was the merwoman's?

Brick flew back. “We heard voices. Now we know: it's goblins!”

“Goblins! Here?”

“They live deeper in the mountain, under the naga. Usually they don't come near here.”

“The naga?”

“Snakes. They don't bother us, and the goblins don't bother them. Much. But if the goblins are coming here, there's only one reason.”

“The gems of this nest.”

“How did you guess, hollow-noggin?”

“I was fortunate, fly-by-night. Should I blow my whistle?”

The bat considered. “Maybe there's only a few of them. We could handle that ourselves. If we called Lord Draco over a minor matter, he would strip our wings and make us do forced marches over the stalagmites.”

“Let's wait and see, then.” It was evident that the dragon did not like to be bothered about trifles, and had ways of discouraging this.

Brick flew off. Marrow set the two opals down, and pondered the situation. If the goblins were coming, it had to be because they had seen the dragon departing or because they knew of the ceremony and had timed their raid to coincide. That probably meant they were equipped to handle the bats, who really weren't such a bad threat. Probably they did not know about Marrow, though. Could he defend the nest adequately alone?

He wasn't sure, but decided that he could always blow the whistle if it appeared that the presence of the dragon was needed. He did not want to cause Draco and Dolph to miss the ceremony; both would be angry about that.

The tapping became loud. In due course the chisels broke through the wall, down at cave floor level. Light flared out. There was no further question: goblins were raiding.

The first goblin stepped into the cave, carrying a guttering torch. The bats swarmed down to attack. The goblin cursed and batted at them, waving his flaming stick. “Bring out the hoods!” he shouted back into the hole from which he had stepped. “The vermin are making a flap.”

“Vermin!” Brick retorted, outraged. “Listen, clunk-head—”

The goblins ignored him. More stepped through, wearing helmets with heavy descending flaps. They had cloaks and gloves too. Every third one had a torch, which served as a weapon as well as for light. The bats attacked, but could make no progress; the outfits were impervious to their efforts, and the fire the goblins carried was devastating to wings.

There seemed to be half a dozen goblins. They were on the floor of the cave. Marrow concluded that they were not a serious threat because they would not be able to scale the wall to the dragon's nest.

Then more goblins came, carrying long ladders. They hauled these to the region under the nest, and leaned them up against the wall. They were just long enough to touch it. The raiders had come prepared; this was an organized party.

Brick flew in to consult with Marrow. “The ruffians came prepared. May be you better blow your whistle now.”

But Marrow had more confidence. “They don't know I'm here. Attack them as they climb; they won't be able to swat at you without letting go of the rungs. Go for their big tender feet; those aren't shielded. If any get near the top, I'll push the ladders away.”

Brick gazed at him. “I am getting to dislike you less, bone-face.”

“Same here, skin-snoot.”

The bat departed. Soon the curses below redoubled. The goblins on the two ladders were trying to swat at their feet, and losing their balance and falling off. Those not on the ladders laughed. Fights broke out, until the goblin chief established order.

They started up the ladders again, in lines, the second goblin on each protecting the toes of the first. The bats were unable to penetrate.

“What now, bare-teeth?” Brick inquired.

“Just keep harassing them, so they have to climb slowly. Let me know when they're near the top. I want to dump as many as possible, and maybe break the ladders too.”

“Beautiful! Almost worthy of a bat, that notion.”

“Almost,” Marrow agreed wryly, keeping his head down. He wanted this to be a complete surprise.

“Now!” Brick announced shortly.

Marrow rose up. He put his skull up against the face of the top goblin on the left ladder. “Boo!” he yelled.

“Ay-yi-yii!” the goblin screamed, appalled. He jumped backwards, and lost his grip. He fell, crashing into the one below. The entire column bumped down the rungs of the ladder, each cursing more villainously than the last.

Marrow quickly moved over to the right ladder and did the same. But this top goblin was more nervy; he yelled “Boo!” back and started to climb onto the nest. So Marrow put a hand on the top rung and shoved the ladder to the side. It fell, slowly at first, then with greater conviction, while the goblins aboard screamed in unison.

“I think I'm in love!” Brick chittered joyously

There was chaos below. Then the goblin chief's voice sounded. "You saw a what?'

Marrow was pleased. He had thought he had lost his touch, but it was evident that he could still evoke a bad image.

After a time the most severely bruised goblins departed for safer territory, and new ones took their places. Marrow was not sure how many there were in all, but it was at least twenty. He thought again about blowing his whistle, but his ladder push had been so successful that he didn't see how a hundred goblins could do any better than ten. He would shove down every ladder!

But then the goblins started assembling a different kind of device. Neither Marrow nor the bats could figure out just what it was. It had some kind of webbing, and a wood section, and some kind of spring. They scurried around, gathering stones; then, with delight, skulls from the bone pile below the nest. What could they want with these?

Then Marrow found out. “Ready, aim, fire!” the goblin chief declaimed. A skull flew up and over the nest.

It was a giant sling! They were hurling things at him. This was dangerous.

“We've got to deactivate that artillery,” he told Brick.

“How?” the bat asked, as a rock whizzed over, closer. The goblins were getting the range.

That stumped him. Meanwhile, under the cover of that barrage, the goblins were setting up their two ladders again. Marrow lay low, trusting that they would not be able to hit him if they couldn't see him.

The troops swarmed up. Marrow shoved one ladder over, then moved to the second and fought with its top goblin, who was almost into the nest. Another skull sailed across, just missing him as he ducked. He managed to shove the creature over the edge, and that ladder also fell. It was getting harder, but he was still prevailing, and the goblins were taking a battering.

“Behind!” Brick chittered.

Marrow turned—and discovered a third ladder. They had used the first two as distraction while the third made it through. He charged across and shoved at the goblin who had already gotten off, pushing him back against the one just reaching the top. The little monster clamped his big teeth on Marrow's hand, chewing at several bone fingers. Marrow kneed him and finally threw him off. After a brief struggle, he managed to dump that ladder too. There was a satisfying wail as the goblins on it fell.

But by this time the other two ladders were being set up. Marrow realized that he would not be able to hold them all back. It was time to blow the whistle.

He lifted his finger to his face—and discovered that the finger was gone. The goblin had chewed it off! Whether this was sheer bad luck, or the result of goblin savvy, made no difference; his prime weapon had just been nullified.

“Blow the whistle! Blow the whistle!” Brick chittered.

“I can't!” Marrow said, chagrined. “He bit it off.”

“Then think of something else! Quickly!”

Marrow tried, but his hollow head was not much for pressure thinking. All three ladders were now back in place, and another skull flew low overhead. Marrow realized that they should have the range by this time; why were the shots still missing? Then he realized that it was because they didn't want to break or scatter the gems in the nest.