Dragon on a Pedestal (30 page)

Gorbage and the jury burst out laughing. They rolled on the ground, expelling black tears of mirth.

“I gather, from this unbecoming levity, that there is no law,” Hugo concluded suavely, just the way Ivy had known he would. A defender of his caliber could not be rattled by crude behavior. “Indeed, historically there have been many such liaisons. Any of you could marry a harpy hen if you wanted to.”

This set off an even more ferocious siege of merriment. Not even a cockatrice would care to marry a harpy hen!

“And so a goblin girl can marry a harpy cock if she wants to,” Hugo concluded brilliantly. “There is no cause for a trial, let alone an execution. I therefore move that this court be adjourned and the defendant set free.”

Suddenly the goblins were sober. “Outrageous!” Gorbage exclaimed. “Marry a harpy? Why not eat zombie refuse while you’re at it?”

“But there is no law,” Hugo insisted. “Therefore Hardy can’t be executed for—”

“Yes he can!” Gorbage insisted. “For polluting and corrupting my innocent daughter!” The goblins of the jury applauded.

Ivy had to admit to herself that the situation looked bad, but she maintained confidence in Hugo’s ability to handle it. Things always looked darkest just before the dawn; that was part of the script. And Stanley was now halfway free of the net. Before long he would be ready to fight, and she was sure he had built up plenty of white-hot steam.

“Very well,” Hugo said smoothly. “I call the defendant as witness.”

“Sure, the cock’s already incriminated himself proper,” Gorbage said. “Let the birdbrain do it some more.”

Hugo faced the post. “Bird-br—uh, Defendant, has the subject of marriage between you and the goblin girl been broached before this date?” Hugo was sounding more like a lawyer as Ivy’s confidence in him grew.

“Yes,” Hardy said.

“Who broached it?”

“Well, actually she did. I mean, I would have asked her, but she asked me first.”

Gorbage scowled but did not interfere.

“And you accepted?” Hugo persisted.

“Certainly. I was flattered. A pretty thing like her, with such lovely legs—”

Hugo turned to the jury, which was looking at the legs in question. “Note who was doing the corrupting.
She
asked
him
. So if one of them has to be executed—”

“No!” Hardy cried. “Don’t try to incriminate her! I don’t want my freedom at her expense! She’s the sweetest, most innocent creature imaginable! She never corrupted anyone! I surely am the guilty party!”

Gorbage nodded. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Hugo eyed Hardy speculatively, as if the defender were a dragon toying with trapped prey. “Are you denying your prior testimony?”

The harpy was taken aback. “Well, not exactly—”

“Then you may step down.” Hugo glanced at the perch and rope. “Figuratively, of course. I call Ivy as next witness.”

Ivy came forward again. She had been working at her bonds but couldn’t get her hands free.

“Who sought whom?” Hugo asked her. “Did the harpy go to meet the goblin, in your experience?”

“Well, Glory said—”

He frowned competently. “No hearsay, please. What did you actually witness?”

“Well, I saw Glory walking—”

“And did she seek out the harpy?”

“Yes, we helped her find him, at the mouth organ.”

“So in your experience, she went to meet him, not vice versa?”

“The vice is all his!” Gorbage cried.

“That is,” Hugo clarified for the less intelligent goblins, “she sought him, not the other way around?”

“Yes, but—”

“That suffices.” Hugo turned to the jury again. “As you can see, the harpy is ready to perjure himself to save the goblin girl, but we have now established independently that she was the one taking the initiative, not he. The defendant is therefore innocent of the charge of corrupting, because he is in fact the one being corrupted. You have no other choice but to let him off.”

The jurors looked uncertainly at Gorbage. “Ridiculous!” the goblin chief exclaimed. “All that’s out of order! The dirty bird is on trial here;
he
‘s the one to be executed!”

“Oh, no he’s not!” Glory cried. “I did it! I confess! I corrupted him! I’m the one to be executed!”

“As goblins,” Hugo said smoothly, “you can dismiss the confession of a harpy, but you can not doubt the word of another goblin. Therefore—”

“Never!” Gorbage and Hardy said together.

Ivy knew the goblin chief didn’t want to execute his own daughter; he wanted to make her marry a goblin man. Hugo and Glory had put him on the spot.

But Gorbage was cunning and unscrupulous, the very model of a goblin leader. “It is not for the persecutor or the deaf-ender to decide the issue,” he proclaimed. “It is for the jury.” He turned to the other goblins. “Jury—reach your verdict. You know what it is.”

The jury-rigged goblins pondered momentarily, then caught on. “Guilty!” they cried.

“But that’s not fair!” Hugo protested, losing some of his courtroom poise.

“Don’t worry—we’ll execute you, too, twerp, after we’re done basting the bird.” Gorbage turned to Hardy. “Deaf-endant, you have been found guilty of corrupting and polluting this innocent goblin girl. I hereby sentence you to be—” He paused, considering the most awful way to do it. “To be burned at the stake and roasted for dinner!” He turned to the jury-goblins. “Go fetch wood for the fire. We’ll have a feast!”

The goblins dashed about, foraging for wood. “No!” Glory cried tearfully. “Don’t do it, Father! Let him go! I’ll do anything—”

“You’ll marry a goblin chief,” Gorbage told her. “Same as your sister did. After the bird’s done.”

Stanley had almost freed himself, but it looked as if he would be too late to help Hardy. The trial had not lasted quite long enough.

The goblins piled wood against Hardy’s perch. In moments the fire was ready to be lit. Gorbage produced one of his treasures—a huge Mundane match. The Mundanes practiced very little magic, but this fire-lighting stick was part of what they did have. “Now who shall have the privilege of igniting the conflagration?” he asked dramatically.

“I’ll never speak to you again!” Glory cried helplessly at, her father.

Unfazed by this dire threat, Gorbage turned to her. “Ah, yes, the persecutor. Who is more fitting to light the fire?” He handed her the match.

“You’re insane!” she cried. “I’ll never—”

“Can you guess what we shall do to the bird before we croak him—if you don’t?” Gorbage asked her.

Glory quailed. It was obvious that the goblins practiced terrible tortures. She couldn’t let them do that to Hardy!

Ivy cast about for something to do to stop this, but she and Hugo remained tied, Stanley was not yet free, and the goblins were all around.

Glory approached the pile—and drew her knife. Gorbage, anticipating this, dashed it out of her hand before she could try to cut the rope that tethered Hardy. “You wouldn’t be a goblin if you didn’t try a trick like that,” Gorbage said approvingly. “You’ll make some chief real miserable someday. Now strike that match.”

Glory’s head drooped. Tears squeezed from her eyes. She found a rock and struck the match against it. The match burst into flame, hissing loudly. She hurled it into the pile of brush, where it ignited the dry leaves and moss set amidst the wood—and threw herself after it.

“No!” Gorbage cried, this time caught by surprise. “Get her out of there!”

But Glory had hold of the post, and already the fire was spreading through the eager brush. She intended to die with her beloved.

Ivy stumbled toward the fire, not knowing what else to do. She could not stop the flame; even if her hands had not been tied, she would have been largely helpless. Suddenly she was very much aware of the limitations of her age. Yet there was something—

Goblins were everywhere, screaming, trying to get rid of the fire. Glory, with goblinish cunning, had certainly found the way to foul them up!

Ivy fell into the brush, on the side not yet burning—and there was Glory, her hand on Hardy’s claw-foot, crying and clinging tight.

“You can do it!” Ivy cried, suddenly certain that love could conquer all. “You can save him somehow!”

Glory looked at her. Hardy looked down at her. Smoke wafted across, stinging Ivy’s eyes, forcing them shut—and when it passed and she opened them again, tearily, both Glory and Hardy were gone.

Ivy blinked. She saw the vines that formed the rope that had tied the harpy’s feet. Now they were tied about nothing—and untying themselves. In moments the vines dropped into the brush, empty. What was happening?

The goblins were staring, equally mystified. “Where’s the bird?” one cried.

“Where’s my daughter?” Gorbage roared. “Find them!”

Goblins scurried all around again, searching for the fugitives.

Ivy felt something. She was being hauled backward, out of the burning brush, before the flame reached her. Then hands were at her bonds, untying them, and soon she was free. But when she turned to look, there was no one there.

Hugo, standing beside her now, looked startled. His bonds were untying themselves, too! Ivy saw the ropes flip about and release their knots.

Stanley burst out of the net and came to join them. “Hey, the dragon’s loose!” a goblin cried.

The goblins turned and charged, raising their clubs—and Stanley blasted them with steam, sending them reeling back.

“Run!” a voice cried. It sounded like Glory—but she was not there. “We’ll distract them! You folk get away! You helped us, now we’ll help you!

Ivy and Hugo and Stanley ran. Two goblins pursued them—but a fallen branch lifted itself up and tripped them. Then a flaming branch came from the brushfire and waved itself about menacingly.

Daunted, the goblins fell back; it seemed the inanimate was coming to life to threaten them! The trio made it to the shelter of a nearby tree.

“What’s happening?’ Ivy asked breathlessly. “I never saw magic like this before!”

“They’re invisible,” Hugo said, using his enhanced intellect to figure it out. “See, Stanley can hear them and smell them; he’s not worried.” Indeed he wasn’t; the little dragon was grinning with all his sharp little teeth as he watched the burning branch set fire to the pants of one goblin. Since goblins did not wear pants, it was quite an effect.

“But goblins can’t do magic!” Ivy said. “Neither can harpies!”

“Now they can,” Hugo said.

“Only human people have magic talents,” Ivy insisted. Then she remembered the centaurs. “And half-humans.”

“Well, she’s half human, and so is he,” he pointed out. “Together they must have a talent—and it’s invisibility.”

Ivy realized that when she had joined the couple and willed them to save themselves, she had enhanced their hidden joint talent. Now, together, Glory and Hardy became invisible. Because no one could see them, they had been able to free themselves and Ivy and Hugo without interference.

Gorbage, no dummy—Ivy was beginning to realize the full meaning of that term—caught on at almost the same time. “It’s them!” he cried. “See her footprints! There must have been some invisible wood in that pile, and the smoke got on them! Follow those footprints!”

“Invisible wood?’ Ivy asked. “It looked visible to me!”

“Gorbage doesn’t know about your talent,” Hugo said. “So he figures there’s some other agency. That’s just as well.”

The goblins oriented on the footprints. But then even these stopped. “He’s carrying her through the air!” Hugo said happily. “I don’t think he can lift her weight for long, but it should be enough to lose the goblins. We’d better flee before they remember us!”

They fled, hearing the uproar fade behind them. Then the mouth organ started playing again, drowning out everything else with its rich, mellow notes and harmonies.

“I’m glad Glory and Hardy got away,” Ivy said when the party felt safe from pursuit.

“I’m glad
we
got away,” Hugo said. “Gorbage was going to kill us, too!”

Ivy shuddered, knowing it was true. She always thought the best of new people, but she was learning the hard way that not all folk deserved that regard. They had walked into more than they expected when they met Glory Goblin! But it had been the right thing to do. Love had triumphed in the end, as it was supposed to.

The search, capture, trial, and escape had used up the main part of the day. They ate a supper of assorted conjured fruits, located some hammock trees, and settled down for the night. Stanley had some trouble getting used to a hammock, but enjoyed it when he mastered it. They slept in relative comfort and suffered only a few bad dreams.

T
hey were down to four now—Chem, Grundy, the Gorgon, and Irene. This was easier, though the others had certainly done their parts. The Gorgon’s memory was returning nicely, now that she was among friends. Irene’s questions and comments acted to refresh what the forget-whorl had fogged. But Irene knew it had been a close call; if the Gorgon had passed through the center of the whorl, she would have been beyond recovery. And if Zora Zombie had not taken the curse intended for Irene, Irene herself would now be a statue.

“We can work together,” Irene suggested to the Gorgon. “Grundy can ask the plants whether they have any news of either Ivy or Hugo, and when you learn Hugo’s whereabouts, you can go directly there.”

“That seems reasonable,” the Gorgon agreed. She had wanted to join forces at the outset, Irene remembered; it might have been better if they had done so.

“The last news I have of Ivy is that she was in the Cyclops’ cave,” Irene continued. “So I’ll just start looking for that. I have my ivy plant that shows she’s still healthy, so I know nothing has happened to her yet. But the Muse said she was going to get into trouble soon. I want to find her before night, if possible.”

“There is a goodly portion of the day remaining,” Chem pointed out encouragingly.

Grundy queried the local flora and fauna. He was in luck; many of them knew where the dread one-eyed monster lurked. This entire region had been largely cleaned out of dragons and griffins because of the Cyclops’ voracious appetite for meat. The smaller creatures appreciated that and felt the Cyclops was not such a bad fellow. But still they preferred not to encounter him directly, just in case.