Geis of the Gargoyle (35 page)

Furthermore, the Interface would lock on to a Xanth native, and when that person returned to Xanth after an excursion anwhereIwhen in Mundania, he would be exactly where he left it, and exactly when he would have been had he spent the time in Xanth without crossing.
 
So if he spent one day in Mundania, he would return one day later in Xanth.
 
If he spent a year, he would return a year later.
 
So crossing the Interface would not disrupt him or his associations in Xanth; it would be just as if he had visited another part of Xanth for that time.
 
Unless for some devious reason he preferred to return at another time, in which case it was possible if he was lucky.
 
The Interface, in short, would be kind to Xanthians.

"But where's the deception?" Hiat demanded.
 
He seemed obsessed with the matter.

Gar delved into the scroll again.
 
"Because it treats Xanthians differently from Mundanes," he said.
 
"If a Xanthian crosses into Mundania, he will say that there is no problem going back-because there is none, for him.
 
But if the Mundane then crosses to Xanth, and back, he may be totally lost in some other time or place."

"Oho!" Hiat said, liking it.

But as Gar read further, he discovered another aspect of the situation.
 
Mundanes, it seemed, spoke many different languages.
 
It wasn't clear why they hampered themselves in this manner, but the fact was that a Mundane from one section could rarely converse with one from another section.
 
When a Xanthian entered Mundania, he too was unable to understand the speech.
 
But when a Mundane entered Xanth, he spoke the common language of Xanth, being magically converted.
 
So probably the deception would occur when a Mundane was in Xanth, talking to a native, who thought that it was safe to cross either way.
 
The Mundane would then cross back-and wish he hadn't.

"Yes indeed," Hiat agreed.
 
"A very nice feature, suitably treacherous." Queen Iri shot a dark glance at him, but he fended it off without effort.

The folk of Hinge had spent several centuries perfecting the details of the Interface.
 
It had been endlessly complicated to work out and refine each aspect, with many false starts.
 
For example, they had made and tested prototypes of the Interface, and had folk cross repeatedly back and forth, discovering the effects.
 
They had thought that groups would cross close together, but when one "Mundane" member of a group hung back for a look at an interesting flower, he had landed in a sea of Mundane blue grass instead of the blue-skied region the others entered.
 
So a special detail spell had to be devised that caused the Interface to recognize the various members of a Xanth party, and keep them together even if they weren't physically or temporally quite together.
 
All in all, a great deal of parchment scroll was used up in the course of perfecting such details.

Now it was time to invoke the masterspell for the Interface, because if they lost one more person it would no longer be possible to do.
 
Queen Iri would craft the illusion aspect, while Lord Hiat would craft the roots the Interface would grow to anchor itself securely, and the antennae it needed to sense those who passed through it.
 
Demoness Menti would provide the demonly substance it needed, as well as popping back and forth to make sure it was being set up exactly right.
 
She could do what the others could not: Check the actual location of the parts of the Interface all around Xanth as they formed.
 
Princess Supi, though the littlest of the people, had the biggest magic; she would make the raw magic essence of the Interface, giving it strength to perform and endure forever and ever.
 
Gar was the organizer, making sure that all the others were coordinated and that the spell was being crafted exactly right.

For it had to be done right, because once it was done, it was set, and could be changed only in multiples of a thousand years.
 
This was to prevent idle tinkering after the installation.
 
If they made any trifling mistake during the compilation of the spell, that error would be almost forever locked into the Interface, because there might never be another group capable of fixing it.
 
If they made a big mistake, the work of centuries might turn out to be for nothing.
 
This was the major reason why the education of the Princess was so important.
 
She had the most powerful magic, but was the least responsible person.
 
She was at once their greatest strength and weakness.

"So do you understand the importance of your participation, Princess?" Gar inquired sternly.
 
"After we compile the Interface, our job is done and we can all relax.
 
Then you can play all you want to, in whatever way you want to.
 
But first we must save Xanth from possible Mundane invasion." '

He expected resistance, but to his surprise the child agreed.
 
"I can use each talent only once, so I want to make my magic count in the most important way," Supi said.
 
"This is the way."

"But Princess," Hiat protested.
 
"That will use up most of your magic.
 
You will be left a shell of your former self, magically.
 
All that will be left for you to do will be to grow up into a dull irritable adult like your mother.
 
Don't you want to save your magic for your lifelong pleasure?"

"What the %%%% side are you on, cousin?!" Iri rapped, using one of the dreaded four-letter words that no child was supposed to hear.
 
However, Gar realized that this was back in Xanth's Dark Prehistoric Age, before the Adult Conspiracy took firm hold.
 
The primitive folk of that time simply didn't know any better.
 
"Are you deliberately trying to subvert the effort of the centuries?"

"What side?" Supi asked, intrigued by the slight scorch marks and vile-smelling smoke the forbidden word had left in its wake.

"No side, dear." Mend said, rolling her eyes right over her head.
 
"My lady the Queen merely misspoke herself."

She sent a properly subservient warning glance at Iri.

"I am on the side of enlightened self-interest and common sense," Lord Hiat said.
 
"As for that word, %%-"

"My lord Hiat is being facetious," Gar said quickly.

"That is, he is joking.
 
Of course he supports the great and important effort we are making." He sent a challenging look at Hiat, who arranged to turn away just before it arrived, so that it bounced harmlessly off the back of his head.

But privately Gar wondered: Exactly what was with Lord Hiat, that he continually sought to distract Supi from her vital dedication to the project? The matter was complicated enough, without such interference.

"I'm confused," Supi said.

"You would not be, dear, if you could see it through my eyes," Iri said.

"Okay." Supi crossed her eyes.

"No!" Gar cried, but too late.

Queen Iri's eyes crossed, and for a moment she looked almost like the child.
 
What was happening?

Then Supi spoke up again.
 
"Oh, I do understand, now that I've seen through your eyes.
 
You are trying to do the right thing, and to you it looks as if Lord Hiat isn't.
 
But maybe he doesn't really mean it, you hope."

"Yes, dear," Iri agreed, looking both discomfited and impressed.
 
"You did see through my eyes.
 
But please don't use up any more of your magic frivolously."

"Gee, yes.
 
It's a good thing I didn't use the talent of switching places with you."

"An excellent thing," Iri agreed quickly.

"In any event, we can't accomplish it today," Hiat said.

"We must do it only at the height of a major magic storm."

"And we must be in the center of the magic focus," Gar agreed.
 
"Where the gargoyle is." Ah, wonderful thought: to visit her again.

"But now you must rest," Hanna said.
 
"To be prepared for the supreme effort, when the time comes."

Gar was glad enough to agree.
 
These tutoring sessions tended to be emotionally fatiguing, and actually the Princess already knew what she needed to.
 
The moment another storm came, they would be ready to act.

They retired to their several chambers, from which they would emerge later for the evening banquet.
 
His chamber had been cleaned during his absence; he saw the last rug bee departing from the spotless rug on the floor.
 
Gar sought to lie down on his bed-but Hanna was there before him, having somehow lost her clothing again.

"Don't you have a bed of your own, handmaiden?" he asked her somewhat shortly.
 
"If I have taken yours, I apologize, and will seek another place of repose."

"Why should I need one?" she asked in turn.
 
"I'm an illusion."

"Then what are you doing on my bed?"

"I hope to help you relax."

"By making me signal the stork with you? I can relax better in your absence."

"No you can't.
 
You're all tense and tight from the burden of the tutor session.
 
You need help to relax fully."

"No I'm not.
 
No I don't."

She sat up, her upper torso changing its outline as she did so.
 
It did make him think of storks, and the notion was increasingly intriguing.
 
After all, this was a human body; perhaps he should explore its potentials.
 
"Yes you are.
 
Yes you do."

Maybe it would be simplest just to oblige her.
 
But several things made him wary.
 
First, she was an illusion, which meant that her half of the activity would not be real, even if it should seem real to him.
 
And how could it seem real, when he couldn't actually touch her? (But she had touched him more than once.
 
That was another mystery.
 
He was unsatisfied with the "strong magic" explanation, as the magic was of about normal level here.) Second, he was a gargoyle, and there was a gargoyle he would much prefer to be with, whether indulging in stork summoning or anything else.
 
If only he had his natural stone body back! Third, he didn't trust her motive.
 
Weren't there other ways she could help him relax? Why did she insist on this?

That region of doubt loomed larger as he pondered it.
 
What did he know of these illusions anyway? Something had to be making them, and he was satisfied that it wasn't the Queen.
 
If Iri wanted to seduce him right now, she would be here in her own young body.
 
He did not want to play the illusions' game without understanding their purpose.

"Perhaps you are right," he said.
 
"However, I prefer to relax in my own fashion.
 
If you will not let me rest alone, I shall simply ignore you." He walked to the bed and lay down beside her, closing his eyes.

"Then I shall massage you," she decided.
 
She put her hands on his shoulders and started kneading.

It felt good, very good.
 
So he rolled over to let her do his back as well.
 
But that reminded him of one of his questions.
 
"How is it that you, an admitted illusion, can touch me, here where the magic is of normal level?"

She laughed.
 
"You can touch me too, if I wish you to.
 
We are in the Region of Madness, and though the palace reduces the power of magic somewhat so as not to discomfit you, we do draw on it for our purposes, such as fixing food and helping you.
 
At the moment I am making only my hands solid, but I could with a special effort make most of my torso solid too, for a little while, if you should wish to clasp it."