Roc and a Hard Place by Piers Anthony
“Right on,” Kim said briskly. “So you'll stay with us, until you get comfortable with others. We're all going to that trial, remember.”
“Yes,” Chena agreed, relieved.
They climbed into the gondola. The roc picked it up. This time Metria squeezed in too, as it was easier than trying to pace a roc in flight.
“This reminds me of my flight home in the bubble,” Kim said, holding her dog Bubbles, whom she had found in a bubble. “But it's more fun this time, because I'm not on my way out of Xanth.”
“You floated home in a bubble?” Dug asked. “I just blinked, and I was back in my own room. How did you rate?”
“I won the game,” she said. “Actually, toward the end we passed back through the screen, same as you did.”
“Oh, yeah. But I got your number.”
“You sure did,” she said, and kissed him.
“I'll be back,” Metria said, and popped off home. It was time to dose Veleno with another charge of sheer bliss.
Something about the gondola ride had reminded her.
When Metria left home again, the party had long since reached Castle Roogna. As she zeroed in on it, she saw two winged centaurs flying out from it. So she zipped over to check on them. And was surprised.
“Chena and Cynthia!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, hi, Metria,” Cynthia said. “I'm showing my friend Chena around. Things look different from above, and I wouldn't want her to get lost.”
“Your friend?” Metria repeated somewhat dumbly.
Cynthia smiled. “Comrade, associate, colleague, acquaintance, companion—”
“But what about Che?”
“He's with Gwenny Goblin,” Chena said. “They're playing a game of people shoes. She suggested that we go flying together.”
“We have much in common,” Cynthia said. “Both of us were transformed from other forms. I knew the moment I saw Chena that we would be friends. Che had told me all about her, about how nice she is, and how sad he was when she left. And now she has wings! It's wonderful to have company. I'm trying to talk her into joining me with Che's family, after the trial.”
Metria remembered belatedly how Electra and Nada Naga had been close friends, though both betrothed to Prince Dolph. Apparently something similar was operating here.
“That sounds nice,” she said.
“You explained to me about friends,” Chena said happily.
“About Gloha and Cynthia and Magician Trent. And you were right. We have a lot in common. We're both converts from other forms, which makes us special regardless how we look.”
“Magician Trent,” Cynthia echoed, a look of fond nostalgia crossing her face. “Now, there's a man! I know exactly how Gloha feels.”
“She's on my list,” Metria said. “I'm going to serve her next.” Because suddenly she wanted to see her friend again.
“Go ahead,” Chena said. “We're fine, and Dug and Kim and Jenny are fine too. Electra's showing them around the castle grounds.”
“Where's Dolph? I need him.”
“He's around,” Cynthia said, turning her head. “Yes, there.” She pointed at a shape in the distant sky.
“Thanks.” Metria popped across to that shape.
It was the big bird, playing with the updrafts. “Squawk?” he asked.
“Right. I'll take you.” Metria reached out and grabbed on to the tip of the roc's tiniest huge talon.
Then the hummingbird was there. She closed her fingers carefully around it. Then she popped off to Gloha Goblin-Harpy's nest. This was in a gan-tree, which was one of the weirder trees of Xanth, looking like a tall network of metal beams. Gloha resided there with her husband Graeboe Giant, another converted winged monster.
“Metria!” Gloha exclaimed, flying out from the nest to embrace her. “How's Veleno?”
“I left him with a heavy dose of delirious happiness, because I have a job to do. How's Graeboe?”
“The same. What job?”
“I have to serve summonses for a big trial. Here's one for you.” She brought out Gloha's token.
“Oh, I couldn't go without Graeboe!” Gloha protested.
“I have one for him too.” She produced the other token.
“Oh. Very well, then.” Gloha took the second token.
“We'll be there. Where and when is it?”
“At the Nameless Castle, in two thirds of a fortnight.”
“The Nameless Castle! Isn't that where—?”
“Where Roxanne Roc will be put on trial. You're on the Jury.”
“Because we're winged monsters,” Gloha said. “She has a right to be tried by her peers. All right; we'll be there.”
“I wish I could visit longer, but I have eight more summonses to serve.”
“We'll see you at the trial,” Gloha said.
Metria realized that she was still, holding Dolph. Well, no problem. She checked her next token: MELA MERWOMAN, WITNESS. So she popped over to the east coast of Xanth where Mela lived.
But Mela wasn't there. Instead, where a river emptied into the sea, she found a different merwoman. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Who wants to know?” the other replied.
“I'm D. Metria, on business for the Simurgh.”
“Oh. In that case I'll answer. I'm Merci Merwoman.” She reached down into the water and hauled up a human head.
“And this is Cyrus Merman. He was playing with my tail.”
Now Metria remembered that liaison. “What are you doing here in brackish water?”
“It's the only water both of us can stand,” Cyrus explained. “I'm a freshwater creature, and she's saltwater, so we get together at the fringe.”
“However, our children are tolerant of both waters,” Merci said proudly.
“That's interesting. But I'm looking for Mela Merwoman.”
“Oh, Mother's with Prince Naldo Naga. She showed him her panties, and—”
“I know that. Where are they?”
“In his princely estate in the naga caves. He had salt water piped in for her.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She popped back to the naga caves, where she had found Jenny Elf and Nada Naga. Soon she delved down and found the salted caves.
There was Mela Merwoman, sporting in the water.
“Eeeek!” she cried, exactly like an innocent young thing, though it was clear that no female with her endowments could ever be innocent.
“It's just me, D. Metria,” the demoness said.
Mela looked at her. “Oh, I didn't see you.”
“Then why did you scream?”
“Naldo's playing with my tail.”
Like daughter, like mother: Both had irresistible tails. “I have to serve you with a summons.”
“Oh? What for?”
“You're a Witness in the trial of Roxanne Roc.”
“That big bird? What did she do?”
“I don't know. But I hope to find out at the trial.”
“So do I! I'll be there.” She took the token. “Where is it?”
“In the Nameless Castle.”
“How do I get there?”
“Prince Dolph will take you.” Metria held up the hummingbird.
Prince Naldo's head broke the surface of the water.
“That's a rather small bird to carry my wife anywhere.”
Dolph assumed roc form and hunched at the edge of the water. “Squawk!”
“But I might be mistaken,” Naldo conceded. “May I go too?”
“You're not on my list, but I suppose you can be a spectator.”
“Then let's go,” he said, assuming full human shape. “As soon as we don some clothing.”
Mela split her tail into legs, climbed from the water, shook herself gloriously dry, and donned plaid panties. The roc's eyes bulged dangerously.
“Maybe a bit more clothing,” Naldo said reluctantly.
So she put on a reasonably sexy dress, and he put on a princely robe. “We'll meet you on the surface,” Naldo told Metria. “Y
True. Metria put out her hand, and the roc became the hummingbird. She popped to the surface, where they waited for the others to make their slower way through the labyrinthine naga passages. “Haven't you seen panties by now?” she asked the bird.
Prince Dolph appeared. “Only Electra's, of course. They're nice, but—”
“But nobody fills panties the way Mela does,” Metria finished. “As I recall, she even almost freaked you out without them, when you were nine.”
“Yes. I never forgot.”
“Nor should you,” she said primly. “She would have been in violation of the Adult Conspiracy had she shown you her panties then. That's why I never showed you mine.”
“I know. It was most frustrating.”
“Well, that's the point of the Conspiracy. What would Xanth come to, if children got to see anything they wanted to, or if they never realized that things were being kept secret from them?”
“I understand that now. But then I didn't.”
“Because children aren't supposed to understand. They have to be kept in agitated ignorance, suspecting what they're missing. Otherwise what would be the point?”
“None,” he agreed.
A stone hatch opened, and Mela and Naldo climbed out.
“Let's go,” Naldo said.
Dolph assumed roc form, and took them gently in his talons, and launched himself into the sky. But he forgot, and took them to Castle Roogna instead of the Nameless Castle.
“Well, that's all right,” Mela concluded. “We'll wait there until the trial. I can visit with my friends, and Naldo can hobnob with royalty.”
“It works for me,” the Prince agreed. “Maybe I can meet that Demon Prince my sister's hot for. I worried about her, but she came through in the end.”
Metria resisted the temptation to advertise her part in that, because she had to keep moving on her summonsing. So she saw them safely to Castle Roogna, then oriented on her mission again.
The next token was for Okra Ogress. That should be no problem; Okra lived in the deepest darkest jungle with Smithereen Ogre.
She popped across, and knew she was in the right region because of the small trees tied into pretzel knots, large trees with wary looks about them, and the furtive ways of medium-sized dragons. The presence of an ogre did that to a neighborhood. Okra had charmed Smithereen Ogre despite being insufficiently ugly, stupid, or strong, but it had worked out because he had more than enough of all three qualities for both of them. She owed her success, she thought, to her achievement of Major Character status, because no really bad things happened to one of those folk.
Sure enough, there was a bashed-wood house in the center of the devastation, where a not-very-ugly ogress was wielding a length of ironwood, pounding chestnuts on a mossy stone. The chest she was working on was tough, but she had it between her rock and a hard place, and was slowly getting at the nut inside.
“I have a summons for you,” Metria announced. “You have to be a Witness at the trial of Roxanne Roc.”
“I don't think I can go,” Okra said. “I have to get this nut out, so Smithereen can eat it and be fortified for his evening of dragon intimidation.”
“Couldn't he bash that chest open faster himself?”
“He could, but then he'd lose most of the nut. It tends to fly into widely scattered fragments when he bashes it.” She smiled fondly. “He's just such an ogre. So I do it, because I have a gentler touch.” She whaled away with the club, chipping away another corner of the chest. “Anyway, he's helping.”
“He is? How?”
“By providing the support for the chest, so I can bash it.
It takes a really dense block to hold one of these.”
Metria looked. Now she realized that what she had taken for a low mossy ridge was actually an ogre lying down, and the rock on which the chest rested was his head. “That's as dense as anything is,” she agreed.
“Yes. I couldn't do it without him.” Okra clubbed the chest one more time, and it finally cracked open. She pulled apart the sides and lifted out the big nut inside. She heaved it up, her limited muscles bulging. “Open your big mouth, dear,” she gasped. “This is one tough nut!”
The face of the rock cracked open like a mountain fissure.
Okra let go of the boulderlike mass, and it dropped into the hole. A tongue appeared as the ogre chewed, and sparks flew where the great teeth battled the hard nut. It would evidently hold him for a while.
“The trial isn't for a while yet,” Metria said. “But maybe you could bring your husband along. He might find it interesting, in a dim-witted way. It's at the Nameless Castle.”
“Oh, I remember that!” Okra said. “Yes, he would probably like it there. He could chew on that extra tough solidified cloud material. He's always been curious about clouds.”
Metria was surprised. “I thought true ogres were too stupid to be curious about anything.”
“Oh, that's not true!” Okra protested loyally. “It is rumored that clouds are even more stupid than ogres, and since that hardly seems possible, naturally ogres are curious about it. Smithereen could do a great service for ogredom by investigating the matter.”
“I could take you both there now,” Metria said. “But remember: He mustn't bash the castle down. Just the surrounding cloud.”
“I'll keep an eye on him,” Okra promised.
“Good enough. Dolph?”
The hummingbird she held became the roc. The roc fastened one set of talons around the ogre's feet, and the other around the ogre's head, and looked around. So many trees had been bashed down here that there was clearance for takeoff. The bird squawked.
“Do what?” Metria asked, perplexed.
“Squawk, squawk, squawk, squawk, squawk—”
“Squawk?” Okra suggested.
“Whatever,” Metria agreed crossly. “Get on.”
But Okra was already climbing onto Smithereen's body, following her own suggestion. The roc spread his wings and launched into the air, carrying the stiff ogre flat, with Okra riding it like a platform. The big ogre mouth still chewed on the tough nut.
They winged it to the Nameless Castle, where they deposited Smithereen on a suitable outcropping bank of cloud.
Dolph returned to hummingbird form.
Smithereen sat up and poked a finger at the cloud, intrigued by its toughness; this was not ordinary cloudstuff. He put his face down and took a bite of it. The stuff resisted, yielding only very slowly. “Ugh!” he remarked, disappointed.
“Well, it depends, on which part of the cloud you bite, dear,” Okra said. “This evidently isn't the part that contains thunder or lightning. But keep biting; that section is bound to be somewhere.”
Metria nodded. There was enough cloud here to hold his attention for some time. “I'll let you know when the trial actually starts,” she told Okra.
“That's fine,” the ogress said, turning to admire the towering castle in the center of the cloud isle.
“Don't wander too close to the edge. It's a long way down.”
“I know. I remember.” Okra waved as Metria popped off.
After a quick check on Veleno at home, to verify that he was still floating blissfully somewhat above the bed, she brought out her next token. This was for Stanley Steamer.
This could be tricky. But if she had to, she'd get his friend Princess Ivy to ask him. How they were going to keep him from steaming and eating the other Jurors during the trial she didn't know, but her job was just to get him there.
She popped across to the Gap Chasm. Suddenly the steep walls rose on either side of her, and she looked across the reasonably pleasant base of the valley, where small fur trees fluffed themselves out and a stray sick-a-more tree waited for a victim. She couldn't resist teasing it. She sashayed right toward it. “Ha-ha, sicko; you can't make me sick. I'm a demoness.”
Then she heard a faint retching. Oops—it was the hummingbird. She had forgotten about Dolph.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I forgot I was holding you.”
Dolph resumed his normal form. He looked as if he had just succeeded in not quite retching. “Shnake,” he gasped.
“What?”
He swallowed. “Reptile, serpent, viper—”
“Snake?”
“Whatever,” he said weakly, looking better. “It's on your leg.”
Metria looked down. There was a garter snake swallowing her left leg. She had inadvertently landed beside a hose bush,
and the snake had come out to enclose her leg up to the thigh, as was its wont. Given time, it would digest the leg below its fastening on the thigh.
“Ugh.” She puffed into smoke, and the snake dropped.
She reformed to the side. She should have watched where she landed. Such a snake could not hurt her, of course, but it was embarrassing.
“Is that Stanley?” Dolph asked, peering down the valley.
“It does look like a serpent,” she agreed. “But not like Stanley.”
The serpent approached them. A human head appeared in place of its reptile head. “Hello.”
“A naga!” Dolph said. .
“Yes,” the naga said. “Perhaps you could help me. I seem to be lost.”
“Of course,” Dolph said. “I always liked the naga folk. I'm Prince Dolph, of the human folk, and this is the Demoness Metria. What can I do for you?”
The figure assumed human form. She was a young woman, attractive in the way of those who could craft their appearance to suit their desire. She lacked clothing, because in her natural state she wore none. Dolph's eyes did the usual male thing, trying to bulge out of their sockets. It occurred to Metria that the human male form was badly designed: Its eye sockets were too small.
“I'm Anna Conda,” the naga said. “I am traveling to the northern naga caves via the underground route, but I don't recognize the terrain.”
“That's because you're in the Gap Chasm,” Metria said.
“You came up too soon.”
“Oh, the Gap! I forgot all about it!”
“It happens,” Dolph said. “Some wisps of the forget spell that was on it for eight centuries may still be around, and you ran into one. Just go back into the caves and bear north and you'll get there.”