Geis of the Gargoyle (49 page)

Iris let the blanket dissolve.
 
"We were about to address a stork, I think," she said.

"Yes, I believe you are correct." He paused.
 
"But tell me one thing: how did you make that blanket appear, saving us from a drastic violation of the Adult Conspiracy?"

She had to tell him.
 
"It's my talent.
 
The blanket wasn't real.
 
It's illusion.
 
I-"

"Your talent makes illusion blankets!" he said.
 
"How fortunate for this occasion!"

"Um, yes," she agreed, that bit of caution still clinging to her.
 
"What is your talent?"

"To persuade others of my sincerity," he said.

"Persuasion?" she said, dimly alarmed.
 
"You mean I don't really want to do this, but your magic makes me think I do?"

He laughed.
 
"By no means.
 
I wish I had such a talent, for it would make roe far more successful than I am.
 
No, it is merely my sincerity I am persuasive about."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"It is not.
 
I'll make a demonstration." He looked at her.
 
"We can summon ten storks at once."

Iris laughed.
 
"That's impossible!"

"True.
 
I was unable to persuade you that it was.
 
But do you believe that I would sincerely like to do it?"

She considered.
 
"Yes, I believe you would like to."

"So you believe in my sincerity, not in the impossible.
 
That is the distinction."

She nodded.
 
"Now I understand.
 
You can make me believe in your feeling, but not in the validity of what you may propose."

"Yes.
 
So I can make you believe that I sincerely desire to summon the stork with you, but I can't make you believe that you want to summon the stork with me."

"That's a relief," she said.
 
"Because I do want to do some summoning with you, and I'd hate to think it wasn't a real desire." She lay down again by him, and kissed him.

"I think I have looked all over Xanth for a woman like you," he said dreamily, "and here you show up by chance at my house.
 
I bless the storm that caused you to blunder here." His competent hand ran across her back and down to her-

The door burst open again.
 
There was Surprise.
 
"I finished breakfast," she announced, "and dashed back here so I could see what you were doing."

Iris barely had time to conjure the illusion blanket to get unbare.
 
"We aren't doing anything," she said, frustrated.

"But we would like to be," Arte added.

"Let me see," Surprise said.
 
It was evident that she had some faint suspicion that there might be a Conspiracy thing going on, and like all children, she was insatiably curious about it.
 
She walked into the room and reached for the blanket.

"I really would prefer that you not do that," Arte said.

The child paused.
 
"Oh.
 
Sorry."

Iris realized that Surprise had not distinguished between sincerity and possibility.
 
She hadn't separated his desire from hers.
 
That was fortunate, because if she grabbed for the blanket, it would be something else she got hold of.

But the child wasn't out of incidental mischief.
 
"What's this?" she asked, heading for Arte's pile of clothes.

"Don't touch that!" the man cried, sincerely alarmed.
 
But it seemed that he forgot to use his talent to persuade Surprise of that.

"Don't touch what?" she asked.
 
"This?" She picked up what looked like a miniature fat barrel on a string.
 
It must have fallen out of Arte's pocket when he dumped his clothing down with flattering haste.

"Yes, that!" Arte shouted, reaching for it.

The child backed up just far enough to remain out of his reach.
 
That was another incidental talent all children had.
 
She looked at the trinket.
 
"Why?"

"Because it's mine!" Arte rasped.
 
He lurched off the bed so suddenly that Iris had to make a hasty illusion of a towel wrapped around his middle, lest an awful breach of Conspiracy occur.
 
He grabbed for the object.

Surprise backed up another step.
 
"Say 'please,' " she said, imitating the obnoxious lessons of adults on manners.

"You little &&&&!" Arte said, definitely breaching the Conspiracy.
 
The air wavered in an expanding dirty pattern, appalled, and the stench of brimstone wafted out.
 
"Give it to me!"

Surprise scooted around to the side, leaving him lumbering into the wall.
 
She joined Iris.
 
"Is it fun on the bed?" she asked innocently.

"Well, it was about to be," Iris said.
 
"Please go back to the kitchen, and we will join you there in a while." She did not dare express her reason for wanting privacy.

Arte caromed off the wall, reoriented, and came after Surprise again.
 
"Give it to me!" he repeated mindlessly.

The child ducked and zipped past him, holding her closed fist aloft.
 
But this time he was more alert.
 
He turned on a dimepede that had the misfortune to wander out from under the bed at that moment, and leaped after her.
 
His lunge was so strong that something flew up from the floor and landed on the bed.
 
But Surprise was already going out the door.
 
"Nyaa nyaa," she said, being definitely ill behaved, and slammed the door in his face.

Arte wrenched the door open and plowed after her.
 
Iris watched them go, bemused.
 
This had certainly showed her another side of suave Arte, and not just his hind section, which she had forgotten to cover with illusion.
 
The thing about an illusion towel was that it didn't have to be complete to stay in place; just the front half would do.
 
Why did the man care so much about a stupid ugly little trinket that he would use a forbidden word and chase after a child, clad only in half an illusion? Iris wasn't much concerned about Surprise, who could be uncommonly evasive when she had a mind to be, but about Arte, whose body she had been about to clasp.
 
What could be more compelling to a man than stork summoning? Why hadn't he simply let the child play with it awhile in another room, being distracted until there was a chance to complete their business with the stork?

She looked at the thing that had landed on the bed.
 
It was a sock.
 
Arte had kicked up one of his socks as he charged after Surprise.
 
She picked it up and twisted it into a knot, reflectively.
 
But it smelled, so she stuffed it under the pillow.

Well, it seemed that her liaison was doomed for now.
 
She would speak most firmly to Surprise about that, at a later time.
 
But now there was nothing to do but get up and get dressed, because even if Arte returned soon, the mood had definitely soured.
 
She abolished the illusion blanket- and stared.
 
For there was the trinket under it.

Surprise, with truly cunning mischief, had left the thing here while allowing Arte to chase her all over the castle.
 
He would never get it from her that way, because she no longer had it.
 
And she had done it intentionally, because she had held her little closed fist up in an obvious manner.

Iris was now pretty curious about the trinket herself.
 
She picked it up.
 
It wasn't heavy.
 
It was just the tiny replica of a barrel that might be filled with some kind of spirit.
 
She shook it, listening in case it contained fluid.

Then she rubbed it with her thumb to see if there were any catch that would allow it to open.
 
There must be something valuable inside it.

The cook appeared before her.
 
"Demon Rum reporting, master," he said formally.
 
Then he did a double take.
 
"Mistress, I mean.
 
How did you get the amulet?" "Amulet?" she asked, surprised.
 
"This barrel trinket?" "Mistress, you have asked, and I must answer.
 
That is no trinket.
 
It is the miniature barrel I have been cursed to occupy when not in active duty for my master.
 
Er, mistress.
 
I must obey whoever holds it."

Iris' surprise was giving way to appreciation.
 
"You work for Arte-because he commands you with this amulet!"

"True.
 
Now I am yours to command.
 
What is your directive, mistress?"

"Just like that? I just pick it up and rub it, and you are my slave?"

"Even so, mistress."

"So you don't enjoy being chief cook?"

"I don't mind cooking.
 
It's being a slave to a harsh master I can't stand."

"Then why were you so nice to me and the children? We didn't have the amulet."

"You have asked, and I must answer.
 
I was bored, and you had an interesting decolletage, not to mention your powers as Sorceress of Illusion or your mission to capture the Master Slaver.
 
And the children promised much mischief."

"That's not much of an answer," Iris said.
 
"If you recognized me, why didn't you tell Arte?"

"He didn't ask."

It was starting to make sense.
 
"And you are required to obey, not to volunteer.
 
So you let us in and treated us well.
 
But still you had nothing to gain from this, did you?"

"Oh, but I did, mistress.
 
I hoped that you or a child would be my next mistress."

"Why? Isn't one human being as bad as another, as far as you're concerned?"

"Perhaps.
 
But some are more interesting than others, and some are less bothersome to work for.
 
And there is the moral dimension."

"What do you mean? Demons don't care about morals, being soulless."

"Demons differ.
 
I happen to abhor slavery, for an obvious reason."

"That's right!" she said, realizing something else.
 
"You can help me accomplish my mission.
 
Where is the Master Slaver?"

"He is at this moment chasing the child through the kitchen."

"Chasing-" She paused.
 
"Oh, no! You mean-?"

"Yes, mistress.
 
Arte Menia.
 
Didn't you wonder why his house is so close to the slave camp?"

"But he's such a decent man!"

Rum made a peculiar expression.
 
It was as if something was burbling up inside him that would not be restrained.
 
His chest, throat, and head bulged in turn, inflated from within.
 
Was he about to be sick? "Mistress," he gasped.
 
"May I laugh?"