Roc And A Hard Place (4 page)

She could avoid the storm entirely by becoming so diffuse that she could float through the substance of the mountain.

But again, that might be construed as a type of flying.  So the safest course seemed to be to stick to what she was doing, laboriously climbing the slope, hoping she could hang on despite the cloud's worst efforts.

Fracto was happy to accept this challenge, knowing that she was pinned.  He puffed up voluminously, crackling with lightning and thunder.  His center turned so dark, it was like swirling midnight, and his edges swelled outward like gross blisters.  The whole of him was like a giant face, with two patches of glowing eye-clouds and a huge round mouth which blew out icy drafts.  “Iiiii've gooot yoooou!” he howled, blowing smoke at her.

Rain splatted on the cliff, and water coursed down past her.  It was cold, and soon would turn icy.  Her sucker hold was firm, but how would she be able to make any progress up the slippery rest of it?

Now Fracto huffed and puffed, and blew a gale at her.  It was tinged with sleet.  She pulled in her head so as to protect it, but then couldn't see where to go.

This was no good.  Before long Fracto would succeed in dislodging her, and then she'd be falling, and she would either have to fly or crash.  She couldn't actually be physically hurt by a fall, but it would be an embarrassment that would hardly be kind to her pride.  She had to find a way to nullify the ill wind.

She glanced again at the inky depths of the center of the storm, and got a notion.  What she needed was a light—a night light.  The kind that folk used when they wanted to conceal their nefarious activities.

She extended her head and formed it into a lamp with a dark bulb.  She turned on the bulb, and darkness radiated out from it.  Her night light was in operation.

She turned up the power.  The darkness expanded.  Soon it covered the entire facet of the mountain she was on.  She was hidden within its obscurity.

Fracto realized what was happening.  The storm turned furious.  But Fracto could no longer see her, so didn't know precisely where to blow most fiercely.  Oh, he was getting frustrated!

The cloud tried another ploy.  He turned the draft so cold that the coursing water became a sheet of ice, overlaid by slush.  But under the cover of her night light she formed her nose into a prehensile snout similar to that of the mythical Mundane elephant monster and made a hard hammer at its end.  She tapped at the ice and cracked it away, making a clear place for her sucker foot.  Now the wetness didn't hurt, in fact, it made the seal secure.  The cloud couldn't hear her tapping, because of the almost continuous rumble of thunder.

She made it to the edge of the facet and crossed the slight bend to the next.  The storm still raged, but her night light protected her.  When a gust of wind touched her she hunkered down and waited for it to pass, then resumed her tapping and moving.  Fracto could not stop her.

At last the evil cloud got disgusted and stormed away.  She had beaten him, again, and it was just as much of a pleasure as ever.  She dissolved her night light into smoke, and resumed better progress.

The sun ventured to show its face again, no longer fearing the wrath of the storm.  The emerald mountain dried, forming pretty mists all around it.  They rose like unicorn tails, shining in the slanting sunlight of the closing day.  She paused to appreciate the beauty of the scene, and realized that before she got half-souled, she had never had that experience.  Now she could enjoy things for their art, instead of for what she could use them for.  “If I could get rid of my soul right now,” she said aloud, “I wouldn't do it.” And that was one remarkable confession, for a demoness.  She felt wonderful.

'Disgusting,' Mentia muttered, awakened by the feeling coursing through her.  Then she tuned out again.

The peak turned out to be a mere foothill, part of a larger mountain.  And, amazingly, the larger inner segment of the mountain wasn't green.  It was light blue, definitely a distinct shade, beautifully complementing the green rim.  She had understood that the whole thing was emerald, but either she had misunderstood, or those who said it was all emerald hadn't seen the inner mountain.  Aesthetically, this was even better, so she wasn't complaining.

Metria had to work her way down into the cleft-valley between peaks before starting up the next.  And there she paused.  She had heard something.  More mischief?

No, it was a woman or a girl, a human being, lying between the slanting green and blue facets of the cleft.  She had groaned, faintly.

Metria considered.  Though she had used the night light, she preferred to climb by daylight, and there was not a whole lot of day left.  Should she get involved with this human being, and perhaps get delayed too long?

'Of course not,' Mentia said.  'You have already wasted enough time discouraging Fracto.  You don't have all day left, you know.’ That decided her.  If her worser half was against it, it must be the right thing to do.  She walked over to the woman.

“Can I help you?” she inquired.

The woman lifted her head.  Long dark hair framed a lovely face.  “I hope so,” she said, wincing.  “I sprained my ankle, and don't think I can walk alone.”

'I knew it!  She's an albatross.  If you help her, you'll never get to the top of the mountain.’ Metria ignored her worser self’s objection, with an effort.

“Maybe I can help you get home.  Who are you, and where do you live?” She put her hands on the woman's shoulders and helped lift her to her feet.

“Thank you so much.  I'm Mara.  I was out bird-calling, and got lost in a storm and some sort of weird darkness.  I fell, and couldn't get up, and when it cleared—well, I don't know where I am now.”

So it had been Metria's fault, because the storm had been after her, and she had used the darkness to oppose it.  She certainly had to help Mara find her way home.  Her conscience would allow nothing less.

'If you hadn't gotten half-souled, you wouldn't have a conscience!' Mentia griped.

“Maybe I can help you cross this green foothill mountain, so you can be on the plain,” Metria suggested.  “I'm a demoness, you see, and—”

“A demoness!” Mara cried, affrighted.

“Don't worry; I have half a shoe.”

“Half a what?” Mara inquired, looking down at Metria's feet.

“Footwear, leather, tongue—” She paused.  “I mean essence, characteristic, quality, animation, spirit—”

“Soul?”

“Whatever,” she said crossly.

Mara was reassured.  “Oh—then you have a conscience, and can be halfway trusted.”

“Yes.  If I were an unsouled demoness, I wouldn't have bothered with you at all.”

“True.  What's your name?”

“Metria.  D. Metria.”

Mara extended her hand.  “I am glad to know you, Demoness Metria.  But I don't live on a plain, so I don't think going over that green mountain will help.  I normally do my bird calls in the forest and glade, where they are comfortable.

That's my talent, you know.”

'Fat lot of use doing bird calls is here,' Mentia sneered.

Metria made another effort to ignore her.  “Then maybe if we walk along the crevice here—”

“I suppose,” Mara agreed dubiously.  “But I'm sure I didn't walk far before I hurt my ankle.”

Metria supported Mara, enabling her to walk reasonably if wincingly well.  They followed the cleft around the slow curve of the mountain.  But all they saw was more mountain.

“I don't think this is the way,” Metria said.

“I think you're right,” Mara agreed sadly.  “I don't know how I came to be here.  I must have gotten caught in a magical vortex or something.  Maybe you had better leave me and go on about your business.”

'Take her up on that!’

“No, that storm and darkness were because of me, so I should help you get unlost.  All I can think of is to bring you with me to the top of the mountain.  Maybe the Simurgh will help you.”

“The Simurgh!  Isn't that the big bird who has seen the universe die and be reborn three times?”

“The same.  I have to perform a service for her.  So if you don't mind coming with me—”

“Oh, I don't mind!  I'd love to see the Simurgh.  It would be the experience of my life.  But—”

There is always a “but”! “But you'll have trouble climbing,” Metria finished.

“Lets see what I can do about that.  Suppose I form myself into a long ladder against the slope; could you climb that?”

“I suppose, if didn't have to hurry, so I could favor my ankle…”

'I knew it!' Mentia said silently. ‘This will take forever minus half a moment.’ Metria feared she was right.  But her half conscience wouldn't let her go.  She formed herself into an extendable ladder, and extended herself up the sloped blue facet until she reached a ridge she could hook on to.  She formed a mouth at the foot.

“I'm anchored.  Come on up.”

Mara put her hands and good foot on the rungs, taking hold.  Then she tried her weak-ankled foot, winced again, but was able to put some pressure on it.  Her hands took up enough of her weight to make it feasible.

Fairly reasonably soon Mara reached the top and looked around.  “Why, this is just another foothill,” she exclaimed. “There's a yellow mountain beyond.”

Startled, Metria formed an eyeball on a stalk and looked.

It was true:  This was just another crest, higher than the green ridge, but lower than the yellow one ahead.

She formed a mouth and sighed.  “Hold on.”

She drew up her latter section, and extended her foresection, so that the ladder disappeared behind and appeared before, leaving the top section, where Mara perched, unchanged.  When she reached the blue/yellow cleft, Mara turned around and made her way down the rungs.  Then Metria shrank the ladder, and got ready to extend it up the faceted yellow slope.  It was now getting close to dusk.

“We'll never make it up before nightfall,” Mara said.

“You had better leave me and go alone.”

'Listen to her, dope!’

“No, it wouldn't be right.” Then Metria had a notion.

“Suppose I make an escalator?”

“A what?”

“A moving structure, automatic increase, dangerous clause, elevator substitute, forming steps—”

“Stairway?”

“Whatever.  So you could ride up faster.”

“Why, that's a wonderful idea!  But do you have the strength to carry me like that?”

“I think so.  It's just a matter of leverage.”

So Metria extended herself to the next crest, hooked on, and Mara got onto the bottom of the ladder.  Then Metria moved her rungs up, and hauled the woman fairly rapidly to the top.  “This is almost fun!” she exclaimed.

But when they looked from the top, there was another mountain ahead.  This one was pink.  It was very pretty, but dusk was closing.

They got more efficient.  This time Metria simply whipped her rungs over the top, and Mara almost slid down the other side.  Then they mounted the pink slope—and encountered a white, almost colorless one beyond.

“I hope this doesn't go on forever,” Mara said.  “I fear

I have become a real burden to you.  Maybe you should Just—”

'Listen to her!’

“No,” Metria said firmly.  “This would have been as long a journey alone.  We're much higher than we were.” Indeed, they could see the yellow, blue, and green ridges below, like so many shelves, though they hadn't been able to see the higher ridges from below.  “It has to end somewhere.”

“You are very kind.”

'You are very foolish!’ They went on.  Beyond the white ridge was a deep red one—and this was the final one, because they could see its rounded peak, atop which perched a giant bird, silhouetted against the fading light.  The Simurgh, at last!

They escalated down the white slope, and up the red one.

But as they came within hailing distance of the big bird, the bird spread her wings and flew to an adjacent peak rising from what they now saw was a very long mountain range.

Of course it had to be, to circle the world.  The Simurgh had never even noticed them!

Metria focused an extended eyeball on the distant bird.

Then she looked down at the endless colorific ridges below.

It would be an awful job to descend and traverse all those, and then to ascend to where the bird now perched—and what guarantee did they have that the Simurgh would wait for them?  To her, they were just insects.

“Maybe if I did a bird call,” Mara said.

'Oh, great!  Now we'll just serenade the birds!’

“Well, whatever you wish,” Metria said, dispirited.  She seemed to be on an impossible mission, because she couldn't even get the attention of the one she was supposed to perform a Service for.  Had Humfrey sent her on a wild swan chase?

'Wild what?' Mentia asked.

'Waterfowl, heron, egret, gannet, crane, albatross, canvasback, duck—”

'Gander?’

'Whatever.’

Meanwhile, Mara did her bird call.  She made a series of melodic, sweet, piercing, chirping sounds.  She was really quite good at it; it sounded just like some exotic bird.

The Simurgh took wing and flew directly toward their peak.  WHO CALLS ME?  her powerful thought came.

Metria formed a mouth so it could drop open in amazement.  Mara's talent wasn't to imitate bird calls, but to call birds—and she had just called the Simurgh herself!

“Uh—I—I—” Mara began.

YES, OF COURSE.  BEGONE.

Mara vanished.

“Hey!” Metria exclaimed.  “That isn't right!”

'Shut up, fool!’

BY WHAT DEFINITION, DEMONESS?  Now the giant bird loomed close.  Her feathers were like veils of light and shadow, and her head bore a crest of fire.  The beats of her enormous wings were like waves of mist.  She was an overwhelming presence.

Metria was seldom cowed by anything in the natural world, but this was supernatural.  She dissolved into smoke, and re-formed in her approximately natural approximately human shape.  “I was trying to help her.  You have no right to banish her just like that!  I don't care who you are, it isn't right.”

YOU QUESTION ME?  Now the great bird came to light on the tip of the red peak, her mighty talons digging into the glossy stone as if it were wood.

'Let it go, idiot!’