Geis of the Gargoyle (47 page)

They went in.
 
There was a huge fat cook in a white uniform with a hat that looked like a big popover muffin.
 
He turned and saw them.
 
"Get out of here, you rag-muffins," he said.
 
"The meal is not ready.
 
I'm shorthanded." He lifted one arm to show how short his hand was.

"But we came to help," Iris said.
 
"Many little hands make short work."

"In that condition?" he demanded, staring at them, and Iris realized that she had let her illusion slip so that she was no longer a buxom creature with a low dress line and the children were no longer angelic waifs.
 
Instead they were all somewhat cold, grimy stragglers.
 
"Get the bunch of you to that tub and clean up first." He gestured to a monstrous kettle in the fireplace.
 
"I am the Demon Rum; report back to me when you're ready."

Iris looked at the kettle.
 
It was big enough to hold them all inside it at once.
 
A horrible thought came to her.
 
But she suppressed it.
 
"Thank you," she said, quietly restoring her cleavage.

He took a look, which was not surprising; if there happened to be a man alive who would not look when she Grafted that particular illusion, he was surely blind.
 
"And eat something," he said.
 
"You look famished." That was a remarkably perceptive observation.

"Thank you," she repeated, deepening her cleavage and leaning forward.
 
"But what should we eat?"

"Eat my hat," he said, and tossed the popover muffin to her.
 
Iris caught it, and found it solid and fraught with assorted berries, with steamy rich pastry between.
 
It was big enough to make a meal for them all.

Iris tore the hat into several delicious pieces and passed them out.
 
The children gobbled theirs down, and Iris herself ate ravenously under the cover of a more ladylike illusion.
 
Of course they all got thoroughly gunked up with dough and cooked berries, but this was the time for it, with a good washing coming up.

The huge kettle was about half full of warm water.
 
It would do.
 
Iris made an inconspicuous illusion screen behind which the children stripped.
 
Then she lifted each up into the kettle and had them start scrubbing themselves and each other.
 
After the last one was in, she went behind the screen, removed her own clothing, crafted an illusion bathing suit, tossed all their clothing into the pot for scrubbing, and climbed in herself.
 
The children were gleefully indulging in a splash and clothing fight, which was getting everything incidentally clean, so she let it be, covering it with an illusion of roiling smoke.

Surprise got into a fit of conjuring, producing things so awful that the other children made passionate choking and retching sounds: fresh vegetables.
 
"It's my curse," she said as she tossed cabbages, squash, broccoli, peas, beans, sweet and sour potatoes, turnips, tomatoes, beets, celery, and other disgusting produce at the others.
 
Soon pieces of vegetable were strewn throughout the water.
 
Iris reflected that this was probably the most enjoyment these children had ever gotten from vegetables.

In due course they and their clothing were pretty clean and the water was ugly dirty.
 
Iris hung the clothing up by the fire to dry and clothed herself and the children in illusory matching olive drab uniforms.
 
It was warm enough in the kitchen so that they were comfortable.

She led them to Demon Rum.
 
"We are ready to work," she announced.

"You have already done the job," he said.

Iris and the children were surprised.
 
"We have?"

"You made the soup."

They remained baffled.
 
"We did?"

"There in the kettle," Rum explained.
 
"Vegetable soup."

They looked back at the kettle, whose fire was now blazing up to heat the water to boiling.
 
"But-" Iris began, thinking of the way they had just washed their dirty bodies in it.

"Flavoring," Rum explained as if reading her mind.
 
"Secret ingredient."

The children nodded, catching on.
 
They would keep the secret.
 
The very notion of tricking unsuspecting folk into eating vegetable soup was hilarious.

Their job done, they mounted the wooden stairs to the servants' quarters on the second floor.
 
There was a nice chamber for them there, with plenty of cushions for sleeping on the floor.
 
Naturally the children got into an enthusiastic pillow fight instead, and soon feathers were flying.
 
They did not stop until no pillows remained intact.
 
Iris, distracted by concerns about exactly where they were and what might be their fate in this mysterious building, did not notice until too late.
 
"Oh!" she cried in horror.
 
"You have destroyed all the cushions!"

Then they heard the tramping of feet coming up the stairs.
 
Iris could do nothing except craft a hasty illusion of pillows the way they had been before the door opened.

There stood the Demon Rum, with all their clothes in his short hands.
 
"You forgot these," he said.
 
"They are now dry." He gazed at the group with mild interest.

Iris realized belatedly that in her concern for the pillows, she had forgotten to maintain their illusions of clothing.
 
All of them were standing naked.
 
"Thank you," she said, taking the bundle and holding it before her in the manner of a shield.

"There is one more task for you," Rum said.
 
"You must remove the feathers so that the cushions can be washed." He blinked as Iris let go of her pillow illusion.
 
"Oh, I see you have already done it.
 
Very good." He gathered up the empty pillowcases and took them away.

Iris resumed breathing.
 
How lucky could they get?

15

LOVE

What happened then?" Surprise asked.

Iris was jolted out of her reverie.
 
"Oh, you wouldn't care to listen to all that," she said, concerned about infringing the Adult Conspiracy.
 
She noticed absently that the train was passing through the city of Hinge again; it must have looped around.

"Oh yes I would!" Surprise said eagerly.

Iris realized that she had made a mistake.
 
All children were eager to get past the Conspiracy, and of course that couldn't be allowed, lest adults lose their power over children.
 
But maybe there wasn't too much forbidden material in the memory, and she could slip by whatever there was with an invisible ellipsis.
 
This was after all a train of thought traveling to the past, so they were bound to explore memories.
 
"Very well," she said with only faint resignation, because the memory was an interesting one.

"Can I be in your memory scene again?"

"But that was long before you were delivered!" Iris protested.

"Sure, but you had children, so I joined them.
 
I promise not to do any messy magic."

At another rime.
 
Iris might have been bemused by the anachronism.
 
But if she could be with Surprise now, being physically twenty-three, why not be with the child when she was mentally twenty-three? "Very well," she repeated.
 
After all, memories were best when truly shared.

Iris woke next morning with a feeling of great loss.
 
She knew she had dreamed of her Lost Love once again, the one she had never had in anything other than a dream.
 
With a lingering trace of unease she whispered into her pillow, "Oh, Power that Be, how long must I bear this loneliness?" But there was as usual no answer.

She glanced at the melting none-of-your-beeswax candle-clock and saw that it was still early.
 
She quickly slid out from under her warm down-filled duvet, shivering as her bare feet met the slabs of golden-flecked sandstone and sky-blue turquoise that made up the royal checkerboard pattern of the floor.
 
She hadn't noticed how elegant this chamber was yesterday.
 
Of course the floor had been mostly covered by feathers from the pillow fight, and then they had had to go downstairs to work on another meal in the kitchen, and it had been dark by the time they returned.
 
So this was really her first real chance to examine the chamber in detail.
 
She was impressed.
 
Who could have such a fancy chalet? It could not be far from the slave camp, because though they had gotten lost in the storm, they had blundered only a short time.
 
But she was sure she had never seen anything like this in the vicinity.

The children, exhausted by their labors of kettle and pillow, were sprawled happily amidst their scattered cushions, still asleep.
 
This was a blessing for them, too: to be suddenly well fed and cared for, instead of huddled in a dank dark cave.
 
But Iris had what some might consider to be a suspicious nature; she wondered whether there was some hidden catch in this delight.

She stepped quietly to the lavatory, where there were

wonderful conveniences of sanitation.
 
When she drew back the pretty cottonIlinen curtains shrouding the round bathing chamber she could not suppress a gasp of pleasure.
 
There was a steaming bath already prepared.
 
"But this can't be for me!" she breathed, hoping she was wrong.

"Of course it can be, dear," Magpie said, appearing beside her.
 
"I made your favorite lemon verbena-scented bath.
 
You can't expect to endure with a mere vegetable soup bath, now can you?"

"So it was you I saw at the door yesterday," Iris said.

"Of course it was, until I got overridden by a more recent memory," Magpie said, helping her into the wonderful bath.
 
"Sometimes I wonder just what adventures you're getting into, in your latter life."

That seemed to make sense of a sort.
 
"But what is this place?" Iris asked as she luxuriated in the scented water.
 
"Why are we being treated so well?"

"I can give you only a partial answer," Magpie said.
 
"The chalet belongs to a young man of noble aspect named Arte Menia.
 
You are being treated well because the cook likes you."

"But the cook doesn't know I am a Sorceress," Iris protested.
 
"And anyway, he's a demon, so he doesn't care about mortal women."

"Now there you are wrong, dear," Magpie said as she scrubbed Iris' back.
 
"Male demons can become quite intrigued by illusion-enhanced mortal women, and female demons can delight in seducing mortal men.
 
Of course this is mostly casual byplay for them, as they seldom form lasting attachments."

"But Magpie, you-"

"I happen to like maidens in distress," the demoness replied.
 
"They can lead interesting lives."

Iris was surprised.
 
She had somehow taken Magpie for granted, before; it hadn't seemed unusual to have a demoness maidservant.
 
"You have served other maidens?"

"Many," Magpie agreed.
 
"Did I ever mention Rose of Roogna?"

"No, you didn't."

"Good.
 
It wouldn't have been proper."