Roc And A Hard Place (28 page)

When they don't have the proper character for a dream sequence, I fill in as well as I can.  My mind is deemed irrelevant.  So I assumed you were another joker sent to disturb my equilibrium.”

“They play jokes on you?”

“Sometimes.  It seems it gets boring between scenes.” He shrugged.  “Nevertheless, I can't go outside the dream realm, because I have no reality in the real world.  So I think that however sincere you may be, your summons is not.”

“It's from the Simurgh.”

“That may be.  But unless she is prepared to lend me a soul, I may not leave here.  I lack the solidity of the walking skeletons or brassy folk; I would simply fade into oblivion, like any other figment.”

“Maybe the token can handle it,” she said doubtfully.

“Very well.  Let's test it.  I will know if it provides support for the external realm.”

She handed him the token.  He took it and paused.  “No, this has no animation for me.  It's dead.  In fact, it seems to be blank.”

She looked.  Indeed, the disk was blank on both sides.  “I don't understand.  It said 'MPD—WITNESS' before, and it led me right to you.  To all of you.”

“Something is amiss.  Try it again.” He handed it back.

She lifted it—and now the words were back.  It tugged toward him.  “It's working again.  See—there are the words.”

She held it up so that he could see.”

“True.  So it works when you hold it, and not when I hold it.  Maybe I just happen to be the wrong personality.”

“So let's try the others.”

No One appeared.  The token tugged, but faded when he took it.  Me Two appeared, with no better result.  The same happened with She Three and Who Four.

“Well, maybe one of my alternates,” Take Five said.

A new form appeared, in the uniform of a nurse.  “I'm Pickup Six.  My talent is to take pain away by touch.” But the touch of the disk did nothing for her.

Another form appeared, a very friendly-seeming character.

“I am Roll Seven.  My talent is making friends.” But there was still no reaction.

Yet another appeared, a young man vaguely reminding Metria of Grey Murphy.  “I am Eight Late.  My talent is dehancement.” Still nothing.

A mischievously smiling young woman appeared.  “I am Nine Line.  My talent is to tickle at a distance.” She gestured with her hands, and suddenly Metria exploded into helpless laughter, because she was being terribly tickled.  She had to form a layer of impervious shellac all over her body before she was able to withstand it.  Then the tickle started in her throat, making her cough.

She lost track of the other variations.  The token answered to none.  “I don't think it relates to any of your aspects,” she said at last.  “I don't understand this.  It was blank until today, and then it suddenly brought me here, and now it doesn't seem to want to be served.”

“Is it possible that someone else enchanted it?” Take Five asked, resuming form.

“Who could interfere with something the Simurgh set up?”

He nodded.  “That is an excellent question.  But perhaps it isn't interference, merely illusion.  You say that's a blank token, so maybe there is no magic on it.  If someone made it look as if it had a name, and made it seem to tug, that might not be overriding the Simurgh's magic, merely sliding past it.”

Metria considered.  “That seems possible.  But who would bother?”

He shrugged.  “I can't imagine.  But it seems like a possibility to be investigated.”

“Yes.” She put away the token.  “Then I won't bother you anymore.  I apologize for chasing after you.”

“A demoness apologizes?”

“I'm half-souled.  'Bye.” She popped off.

She returned to the region she had last seen Prince Dolph.

He was in the submarine, playing with a creature he had found somewhere.  It had big heavy flat feet that smashed constantly against the floor.  He looked up as she popped in.

“This is a stampede,” he explained.  “It stamps nickelpedes into flat squares of paper.” Indeed, there were several such squares before him, each marked “5”:  five-cent stamps.

“So did you nab your summonsee?”

“It was a bum lead,” she said.  “Let's get out of here.”

The submarine got into motion, taking them back.  While it traveled, she explained what had happened.  “Too bad I had to waste a day finding out that this was a wild duck chase.”

“Goose?”

“If you do, I'll tell your wife!”

“We had better have Eve check that disk,” he said.  “She should be able to tell if anything has been done to it.”

“Good idea.” His twin daughters were only four years old, but were full Sorceresses.

They reached the exit region, and Metria slid out.  She knew that she probably wouldn't have been able to do it, if the Night Stallion objected, but her mission for the Simurgh gave her authority.  Then she put a finger between the bushmaster's eye and the peephole of the gourd, breaking contact, so that Dolph's attention returned to the regular world of Xanth.  If was now late in the day.

He resumed his human form.  “Every time I enter the gourd, it's different,” he remarked.  “This wasn't as wild as sometimes, but it was interesting.  I liked that submarine.  And that stampede could be useful out in real Xanth.” Then he became the hummingbird, and she took him and popped back to Castle Roogna.

They explained the situation to Electra, who took them to the twins Dawn and Eve, who were in their playroom, playing with their pet eight-legged kitten, Octo Puss.  Then Metria showed Eve the token.

The child's eyes went round.  “Something awful strong did this,” she said.  “But I don't know who, 'cause she never touched it.”

“Someone enchanted it?” Metria asked.  “From a distance?”

“Yes.  It's s'posed to be blank.” Eve lost interest and returned her attention to the kitten.

Metria shared a glance with Dolph and Electra.  “So there was interference.  And I can ignore it after this.”

“Do we have time to serve the last two?” Dolph asked.

“Let's go!”

They went after Marrow Bones first.  He lived in a house made of bones, with his wife 'Gracile Ossein and their eight year old son Picka and daughter Joy'nt.

“So how do you like your eight souls?” Metria inquired.

She had been present when Graeboe Giant had given Marrow Bones half his soul, enabling the walking skeleton to remain permanently outside the gourd.  Marrow, of course, had shared with his wife and children.  Now each of them had an eighth soul, because souls didn't regenerate in nonliving folk.

“It's odd,” Pick said.

“Odd,” Joy'nt agreed.

“But nice,” Grace'l said.  “Now we do nice things naturally, instead of having to figure them out.”

That was the thing about the Bones family:  They had always been nice despite having no souls.  Metria had not noticed or cared before she got her own soul, but now she found it remarkable.  Marrow and Grace'l had been two of the most decent creatures in Xanth—while believing that they were not.  It made Metria wonder whether souls really were the origin of goodness.

“I have a summons for Marrow,” she said.  “To be a Juror at Roxanne Roc's trial.” She explained the situation, as far as she knew it.

“I shall be glad to attend,” Marrow said, accepting the token.  “Though I find it hard to believe that such a bird would do anything culpable, or that I should be competent to judge her in such a matter.”

“It's one monstrous mystery to me too,” Metria confessed.  “I have always been curious, and this has pulled my curiosity so tight, it's about to snap.” She assumed the form of a giant rubber band, tightly stretched.

“Do you think Grace'l and the bonelets could come to watch?” Marrow asked.  “I am sure they would find it educational.”

Metria resumed human form, and shrugged.  “We can bring them along, and see whether there is any objection.  It isn't my job to exclude anyone, just to make sure that every person on my list is there.”

The two little skeletons jumped up and down, clapping their bony hands with a rattling sound.  “Goody!” they exclaimed.  “We get to see the Nameless Castle!”

“Are you ready to go now?” Metria asked.  “It's early yet, but I'd like to get folk there early rather than late.  I have just one more token to deliver, and if you don't mind sharing the trip—”

Marrow and Grace'l exchanged an eyeless glance.  “We are ready now,” Marrow said.

So Dolph assumed roc form, and Marrow bent over, and Grace'l kicked him on the tailbone.  He flew apart and formed into a basket of bones, and the others climbed into this basket, and Dolph hooked three talons into it, spread his wings, and heaved it up.

“OoOo, this is fun!” Picka cried, peering down through the bone-bars of the basket.

“It looks just like a map!” Joy'nt exclaimed.

Metria found herself enjoying the flight through their eyes, as if experiencing it for the first time.  Maybe this was another fringe benefit of having a soul.

“Squawk!” The big bird was circling high, getting his bearings.

Oh, she had forgotten!  “Go to Lake Ogre-Chobee,” she called to Dolph's huge head.  “The Black Village.”

The bird oriented and winged swiftly for the lake.

“OoOo!” the children repeated as the land slid by below, showing off its fields, forests, rivers, mountains, and settlements.  The outlines sharpened, because the land, too, was responsive to appreciation, and wanted to make its best impression.  Even the small passing clouds brightened their silver linings, looking pretty.  Most clouds were sweet-spirited, in contrast to stormy Fracto.

They spiraled down toward the Black Village, which was in the center of a nicely landscaped section beside Lake Ogre-Chobee.  Dolph landed in the central square, released the basket, folded his wings, and resumed man form.

A cheerful black man approached.  “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit.  Prince Dolph?” he inquired.  His eyes passed across the skeletons.  “I see you come in style.”

“The Demoness Metria has something for you, Sherlock,” Dolph replied.

“A summons,” Metria said, and explained.

Sherlock considered.  “I suppose I could go.  This is a quiet time.  During tourist season it's another matter.  Let me go post my name on the black list.” He walked away.

The little skeletons were looking at the village.  Everything was black, from the houses to the black-eyed peas growing around the square.  A black cat eyed them from atop a black post, and blackbirds sat in the edge of the black hole that was the village well, surrounded by blackberries.  A black snake slithered across the black peat.  In the village men were playing blackjack, and they could see the school where black magic was being taught.  There were letter boxes for black mail.  In a nearby field black sheep grazed among black-eyed Susans.

“What a neat place!” Picka said, awed.

“Yes, everything's a dull bone white where we live,” Joy'nt agreed.

“Black is beautiful,” Grace'l agreed.  “Let's go get some black paint, so we can turn our house and boneyard black.”

Delighted, they went with her along the black brick road to the black market at the other side of the village.

Dolph kicked the bone cage, so that the bones flew apart, and re-formed as Marrow.  “This is already proving to be worthwhile,” the skeleton remarked.

Sherlock returned, wearing a black hat, showing that he was now dressed for duty.  “I got a black look when I said I'd be away, but I showed them this black beryl token and they knew it was legitimate.” He looked around.  “Uh-oh— are they shopping at the black market?  That can be dangerous for the inexperienced.”

“Why?” Marrow asked.  “Are the proprietors blackhearted?”

“Not exactly.  It's just that too many things are available.”

“All they want is black paint.”

Grace'l and the children returned.  They carried a can of black paint, but also a black bag with black bread and black silk cloth, and a Black Pete doll, and the children wore blackface as they chewed on black licorice sticks.

“I think my common sense blacked out,” Grace'l said, abashed.  “There were so many nice things—”

“Point taken,” Marrow muttered.  “Black markets are dangerous.”

Marrow resumed basket form, and the others crowded in.

Dolph resumed roc form and lifted them up.  They were on their way to the Nameless Castle.  Metria's job was almost done.

So you are the last one I am serving,” Metria told the Simurgh, offering her the token with her name on it.

OF COURSE, the Simurgh agreed, accepting it.  YOU THAVE DONE WELL, DEMONESS.

“But there is one token remaining.  It's blank, so I can't serve it.  Do you want it back?”

The Simurgh cocked a huge eye at her.  NO.  IT MEANS THAT YOUR JOB IS NOT YET FINISHED.

“At one time it had a name, but that was an error.”

The eye remained fixed on her, so Metria told the Simurgh about the MPD misadventure.  “Do you think someone is trying to interfere?” she concluded.

The Simurgh sighed, I HAD HOPED THIS WOULD NOT HAPPEN IF I EMPLOYED AN INSIGNIFICANT PERSONAGE.  IT SEEMS THAT THE OPPOSITION DID IN DUE COURSE REALIZE WHAT IS GOING ON.

“You mean someone is—?”

YES.

“But who would dare try to interfere with something you wished to accomplish?” Metria asked.

ON OCCASION THE MAJOR DEMONS HAVE CONTESTS BETWEEN THEMSELVES, IN THEIR ENDLESS QUESTS FOR ENHANCED STATUS.  THREE YEARS AGO THE DEMON E(A/R)th

CHALLENGED THE DEMON X(A/N)th FOR DOMINION OVER THE LAND OF XANTH, AND THEIR INSTRUMENT OF DECISION WAS THE COMPANIONS OF XANTH GAME AS PLAYED BY TWO IGNORANT MUNDANES.  NOW THE DEMONESS V(E\N)us IS CHALLENGING THE DEMON X(A/N)th, AND IT SEEMS THAT THEIR INSTRUMENT OF DECISION IS THIS TRIAL.

Metria was amazed.  “You mean the way Roxanne's trial is decided will decide the fate of Xanth?”

SO IT SEEMS.  THIS WAS NOT MY PURPOSE IN INSTITUTING THE TRIAL, BUT THEY HAVE NOW FIXED ON IT FOR THEIR OWN PURPOSES.  I HAVE NO POWER OVER THE SENIOR DEMONS, NOR DO I KNOW IN WHAT WAY IT WILL SETTLE THEIR ISSUE.

“But don't you know everything?”

EVERYTHING EXCEPT WHAT IS IN THE MINDS OF SENIOR DEMONS.  THEY ARE LAWS UNTO THEMSELVES.

“But then how do we know which side we're on?”

WE DO NOT KNOW.  BUT IT SEEMS LIKELY THAT IT IS THE DEMONESS WHO WISHES TO DISRUPT THE TRIAL, BECAUSE THE DEMON COULD HAVE CANCELED IT AT THE OUTSET HAD HE CHOSEN.  IT MAY BE THAT THE LIKELY DECISION IN THE TRIAL WILL FAVOR THE DEMON, SO SHE HOPES TO PREVENT THAT DECISION FROM OCCURRING.

“Then we need to make sure that the trial proceeds as scheduled,” Metria said.

EXACTLY, GOOD DEMONESS.  BUT I HAVE NO POWER TO ENSURE THAT, AS I AM AT THIS STAGE MERELY A WITNESS.

“Then who—?”

The eye merely gazed at her.

Oh, no!  “But my job is merely to fetch in the witnesses!” Metria protested.

YOUR JOB IS TO SEE THAT ALL THE CHOSEN PERSONNEL ARE PRESENT FOR THE TRIAL AT THE APPOINTED TIME.

“I can't do anything to stop an entity as powerful as the Demon X(A/N)th himself!”

PERHAPS YOU CAN.  THERE ARE CONSTRAINTS.  BECAUSE THE DEMON X(A/N)th EVIDENTLY WISHES THIS TRIAL TO PROCEED, THE DEMONESS CANNOT INTERFERE OPENLY.  DEMONS NEVER OPPOSE EACH OTHER DIRECTLY.  SHE MUST ARRANGE FOR THE TRIAL TO BE DISRUPTED BY SOME SEEMINGLY COINCIDENTAL FACTOR, OR INTRODUCE SOME ELEMENT THAT WILL CHANGE THE VERDICT.  THIS WAS SURELY HER INTENTION WHEN SHE CAUSED AN ERRONEOUS DESIGNATION TO APPEAR ON THE THIRTIETH SUMMONS DISK.  IT MAY BE THAT HER INPUTS ARE LIMITED, PERHAPS TO THREE, AND THAT YOU HAVE NULLIFIED ONE.  YOU MUST BE ALERT FOR ANY DISRUPTION OR UNWARRANTED CHANGE, SO THAT THE TRIAL PROCEEDS AS ORIGINALLY SLATED.  ONLY IN THIS MANNER CAN YOU BE ASSURED THAT XANTH WILL NOT BECOME SUBJECT TO THE WILL AND MAGIC OF A FOREIGN ENTITY.

And such a change might well be the end of Xanth as they knew it, because a foreign demoness would have different priorities.  The Demon X(A/N)th allowed the Land of Xanth to function without interference, and that was the way most residents preferred it.  The Demoness V(E/N)us might similarly let it be, or might decide to change everything, just to spite the former proprietor, or perhaps from simple whimsy.

Metria, as a demoness herself, had no confidence in the motives of the type.  It would be better—infinitely better—to remain with the present administration.

Metria swallowed, which was a sign of stress, because she had no saliva to swallow.  “I will try my best,” she said.

DO THAT, GOOD DEMONESS.

Then it was time to go, so she popped back home.  She saw to the routine chores with only half a mind; in fact, her worser half Mentia saw to most of them, realizing that this was not the occasion for mischief.

What was the Demoness V(E/N)us going to do next, and what could Metria do about it?  She had no idea, and no idea.

Yet she had to be ready.

So she circulated constantly, making sure that all of the summonsees were ready, and that they would report to the Nameless Castle at the right time.  She encouraged them to go early, because once they were there at the Castle, they couldn't depart until the trial was done.  Fortunately the Nameless Castle had accommodations for everyone, and was a fine place to stay.  The Trial Personnel, and Prospective Jurors, and Witnesses, and their families and friends, had a fine time associating with each other.  They were all under the aegis of the castle, so tender morsels like Jenny Elf or Mela Merwoman had no fear of the dragon Stanley Steamer or the reality-changing Com-Pewter.  In fact, they were having a great time.  Rapunzel and Threnody were learning weird games like bridge and poker from Kim and Dug Mundane, which were actually played with decks of cards; they had little or nothing to do with rivers or fires.  The children of the Bones family were playing dice with Okra Ogress and Stanley Steamer; somehow the children kept winning, and claiming their prizes of ogreback or dragonback rides.  Princess Ida was in a deep discussion with Com-Pewter about whether changed realities were believable.  Kim's dog Bubbles and Jenny's cat Sammy were playing tag-tail around cloud hummocks with little Steven Steamer.  The two gargoyles provided a steady stream of guaranteed fresh water, which pooled in two depressions of the cloud, so that Nada Naga could swim in one, and Mela Merwoman could swim in the other, after it had been appropriately salted.  When they swam, by some coincidence, all of the unattached males got interested in watching.  Possibly their preference for swimming in bare human form had something to do with it.  In short, a good time was being had by all.

It wouldn't last for she had been left alone by the Simurgh's decree.  “All rise,” Magician Trent said.

Most of those present stood.  Two of the winged ones flew up higher, before realizing that this wasn't required.  The dragon lifted his head high.  One child wasn't paying attention, so Trent walked over to him and transformed him to an infan-tree.  Then he changed him back, having made his point:  The Bailiff could enforce his directives.

Demon Grossclout appeared with a great noxious flair of brimstone and called the proceedings to order from the lofty rampart of his Bench.  “I realize that there remains an inordinate quantity of mush in your heads,” he said politely, “but if you really concentrate, maybe, just maybe, you will get through this procedure without utterly disgracing yourselves.” However, he looked extremely doubtful about that.

“Now, do we have the Prosecuting and Defense Attorneys present?”

Magician Grey Murphy and Princess Ida stepped forward.

“Yes, Your Honor,” they said almost together.

Grossclout frowned, though this was hardly distinguishable from his normal expression.  “You have flies.  Princess Ida?”

“No, just a little moon.” She tilted her head so that the moon swung up for a clearer view.  Now the others in the courtroom noticed it, and were impressed.

He glowered forbiddingly.  “And have you prepared your cases?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Be seated.” He glared around.  “And is the Court Bailiff present?”

Magician Trent stepped forward, looking about as young and handsome as he ever could be.  “Yes, Your Honor.”

“And the Special Effects person?”

Sorceress Iris stepped up, young and pretty.  Her recent rejuvenation became her, though she was probably enhancing her appearance as well.  “Yes, Your Honor.”

“And the Court Translator?”

Grundy Golem stepped forth.  “Present, Your Honor.”

“Be seated.” Judge Grossclout's terrible gaze forged across the remaining people and creatures.  “And the eighteen Prospective Jurors?”

“Here, Your Honor!” they chorused.

The Judge frowned horrendously.  “I heard only seventeen responses.”

One was missing?  Metria's soul almost sagged out of her body.  She had thought she had everyone!

“Identify yourselves,” Magician Trent said.  “Grundy, count them off as they do.”

The Prospective Jurors stood in turn, lifting their summons tokens and speaking their names, and the golem counted them off.  When they were done the count stood at seventeen.

Meanwhile, Metria made her own count.  She had served seven Trial Personnel tokens, seventeen Juror tokens, and five Witness tokens.  That was twenty-nine of the thirty tokens she had been given.

And there was the key.  “Say, I know what—” she started, but was almost immediately stifled by the collision of Judge Grossclout's glare.  “I mean, if it please the court—”

The glare became insignificantly less forbidding.  “Speak, Demoness.”

“Seventeen Juror summonses was all I served.  All I had. I have one token left—but it's blank.  That must be for the eighteenth Juror.”

“Approach the bench.”

She approached, holding up.  the blank disk.  Grossclout took it and frowned on it for a generous moment.  Then he looked up.  “Is the Simurgh present?”

PRESENT, YOUR HONOR, the Simurgh's powerful thought came.  OCCUPYING ANOTHER CHAMBER OF THE CASTLE.

Even the Judge's forbidding mien seemed just a trifle daunted by that puissant presence.  “Why is this summons disk blank?”

IT IS A SPARE, TO BE INVOKED AT A LATER TIME.

Grossclout's eyes looked as if they would have rolled somewhat in their brooding sockets, had the response been from any lesser creature.  But he put a lid on it as he returned the token to Metria.  “The Prospective Juror roster is complete at seventeen.  Are the five Witnesses present?”

“Here, Your Honor.”

The Judge nodded.  “This is to be the trial of Roxanne Roc for Violation of the Adult Conspiracy.”

There was a mixed gasp.  Some were amazed by the seriousness of the charge; others that such a creature could have done it.  Roxanne had not even been near a child in centuries.

The awful brows lowered.  “We shall now impanel the Jury.” The grim gaze focused.  “Bailiff, Prosecution, Defense, perform your roles.” The Judge closed his eyes, seemingly going to sleep.

Magician Trent called the first name.  “Threnody Barbarian.”

Metria's beautiful daughter, the half demoness, stepped up and took the interrogation chair.  She had done her hair for this occasion, and looked stunning in her short skirt, especially when she crossed her legs.

“Do you understand that you are under oath?” Grossclout asked her.

“Sure.  You want me to tell the truth.”

Prosecutor Grey Murphy approached her.  “You are a barbarian,” he said.

“By marriage,” she replied.  “I'm an asocial half demoness in my maiden state.”

“Do you care about enforcing the Adult Conspiracy?”

“I think it's hilarious!”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“That's a laugh.”

The Judge's left eye cranked open.  “The Prospective Juror will answer the question with an affirmation or a negation.”

“What?”

“That means yes or no,” Grey said.

“Oh.” She considered.  “No.”

“You don't care about enforcing the Adult Conspiracy?”

“Right.  I think it's crazy.  I mean, what's so bad about using hot words or showing your panties to a child?  The kids all know about them anyway.”

Grey frowned.  “I challenge this Juror, on the ground that—”

“The Juror is excused,” the Judge said.

“What, just because I told the truth?  I thought you wanted the truth.”

“We appreciate the truth,” Grey said carefully.  “We just don't feel that you are suitable for this Jury.”

“Well, if you feel that way, I don't want to be on it!”

Threnody got up, almost showing her panties in the process, and went to join the audience.

Suppose those panties had shown?  Metria wondered.

There were some children in the audience.  Would the Judge have called a mistrial?  Or merely tossed Threnody off the cloud for contempt of court?

The Bailiff called out the second name:  “Rapunzel Golem.”

Rapunzel took the chair.  She was as lovely as Threnody, but in a much safer, more demure way.  She agreed that the Adult Conspiracy should be enforced, lest childish minds be corrupted.  The Prosecution accepted her.

But the Defense did not.  “Do you have any affinity with the Defendant, Roxanne Roc?” Princess Ida asked.

Rapunzel frowned.  “I don't know what you mean.  I don't even know her, except by reputation.”

“Have you formed an opinion about her guilt in this matter?”

“Well, there must be some reason for her to have been charged.  I'm ready to listen to the evidence and decide.”

Ida's moon swung meaningfully around.  “Suppose you were charged with such a violation?”

“Objection!” Grey called.  “The Juror is not being charged.”

“This relates to her attitude and belief,” Ida responded.

The Judge shrugged.  “Overruled.  The Juror will answer.”

Rapunzel was shocked.  “Why, I would never, ever—!”

“But you are prepared to believe that a bird you don't know would?” Ida demanded, and her moon looked bleak.

“I didn't say that!  But if the evidence—”

“Objection,” Grey said.  “Counsel for Defense is badgering the Juror.”

The Judge rapped the counter with his gavel.  The sound was explosive.  “Approach the Bench.”

Grey and Ida went to the Bench.  “What is your point, Defense?” Grossclout asked.

“My client has the right to be tried by a Jury of her Peers,” Ida said.  “Rapunzel is certainly a nice person, but her perspective is that of an ordinary Xanth citizen, not that of an isolated roc.  So she is not a Peer.”

The Judge actually looked faintly impressed.  “What do you consider to be qualification for a Peer?”