Piers Anthony: Robot Adept

They were little men, no, goblins, with huge ugly heads and big hands and feet and small, twisted, knobby bodies.

They worked the net off, and the rest of her cloak, their hands taking new and more intimate holds. They held her spread-eagled, while one came at her with bared member.

“Hey, who said thou dost go first?” another goblin cried. “I be first!” He shoved the other aside.

“No way, Snotnose!” the other returned, shoving him back.

Snotnose punched him in the belly. The two exploded into a fight, landing on Agape’s exposed torso. Three other goblins hauled them off, while a fourth made ready to rape her. But this left nobody holding her legs. She brought them up kicking, scoring on the face of the would-be rapist.

Ouch! His head was like rock. He seemed not to notice the kick, while her toes were smarting in her slipper. He threw himself down on her, trying to get into place.

She hooked her feet behind him and applied a scissors squeeze. His body was relatively puny; now she was managing to hurt him! But other goblins were piling on again, and in a moment her feet were unhooked and her legs wrenched apart.

“What’s this?” a new voice cried.

All goblins froze. This was evidently their leader, the chief whom they wished to avoid until they got their business done.

“We are supposed to capture the ‘corn unharmed,” the chief said. “Remember, her body’s the same as the friendly one. Damage it, and we’ll alienate the friendly one, when she returns.”

“We weren’t going to damage her,” the goblin between her legs protested. “Just have a little fun with her.”

“Well, ‘corns have funny notions about damage,” the chief said sardonically. “Tie her—and don’t let go o’ her horn.”

Grudgingly, the goblins tied her, finally wrapping a strip of cloth about her head to cover her forehead. Then they let her go, with a few final pinches at succulent portions of her torso. If she hadn’t known before why Bane hated goblins, her understanding was improving now.

Trool had warned her that the Adverse Adepts were searching for her. This was confirmation.

Then she remembered the amulet. Her hands were tied, but the chain remained around her neck; the goblins hadn’t noticed it, having been paying too much attention to the flesh of her body.

“I invoke thee,” she said to it, hoping it didn’t have to be actually in her hand.

Nothing happened.

She felt a surge of dread. If the amulet couldn’t help her, then she was lost, for they had already made her captive. At least Suchevane had escaped. If only they had perched in their flying forms, out of reach of goblins! But had some hungry night-hunting hawk spotted them—

“Very well, ‘corn,” the chief said. “Who be ye?”

Agape didn’t answer.

“Speak, or hurt,” the goblin warned.

“Go soak thy snoot in a sewer,” Agape replied. Then she was amazed; she had not intended to say that, and it was not the way she talked!

“Speak, or we shall bite thee on the tender feet!” the chief said.

“Hear me well, fecal-face,” she said evenly. “An thou put one foul toothmark on my tender foot, the Adept’ll put sixteen handsome teethmarks in thy foul bottom. Thou canst not touch me!” What was she saying?!

“She talks like a harpy!” one of the other goblins said, impressed.

“An thou beest the creature we seek, that be true,” the chief admitted. “An thou turn out other, we shall chain thee spread o’er an anthill while we take turns raping thee to death. Now answer: what be thy name?”

“An I tell thee aye, I be the one thou dost seek, an thou dost take me to thy employer, an he know I be not, then willst thou rue the day and night that thou didst set thy smelly posterior on this globe,” she said grimly. “An I tell thee nay, and thou dost set thy minions at my body, an the Adept learn I after all be the one, then willst thou rue the very thought that sent thy sickly sire slumming to conceive thee on the stinking slut that bore thee.”

Even the chief took stock at this point. This was evidently not the precise language he had anticipated from the captive. Certainly it was nothing she had intended ever to say to anyone! What had happened to her mouth?

Then it came to her: the amulet! She had invoked it, and it was working! Already she had talked the goblin into a situation in which he dared neither to take her in nor to maltreat her.

The goblin pondered. He grimaced. “There be no help for it except I take thee in,” he decided. “That be the lesser gamble.”

“Not so, thou son o’ an infected slug,” she retorted. “Thou canst save thy putrid skin only by releasing me unharmed and reporting that thou didst discover naught in these parts.”

He stared at her. “Truly, do I wish we had found thee not!” he exclaimed. “Yet an I free thee, and thou dost turn out to be the one, then there be no spot under the earth safe to escape the vengeance o’ the Adept! So needs must I bring thee to him intact, and tell him thou art but a suspect, and my punishment then may be slight.”

“Until I tell him how thou didst have thy minions hold me whilst thou didst shove thy puny thing in me,” she said. “Then I think I had better be not the one thou seekest, for an I be the one, thou willst find thyself suspended by that thing from the nether moon.” She had not even realized that there was a nether moon! This was obviously hyperbole, but nonetheless effective.

He looked glumly at her, not commenting.

“An if I be not the one, as it be needful for thy health that I be not, then why bring me in at all?” she concluded persuasively. “I be nothing but mischief for thee, either way.”

“I shall take thee to my superior,” he decided. “The decision be his. Let him free thee or ravish thee; it will be out o’ my domain.”

He had figured out a way to pass the buck, she realized. She was stuck with captivity. Still, the tainted tongue foisted on her by the amulet had bought her some time, and perhaps it would befuddle the superior goblin as readily as it had this one. She had never before realized what a weapon a tongue could be! Trool had warned her that this was not a pretty spell; he had known whereof he spoke.

They left her tied, and spent the remainder of the night in the oasis. Then, in the morning, prompted by her harpy-tongue, they gave her some bread and water and leave to relieve herself. Then they started on their way to the goblin headquarters. They gave her back her cloak, and some food, and did not molest her. But it was a wearying walk, hours in the rising sun, bearing north.

Then something appeared on the horizon to the southwest. The goblins looked back over their shoulders, alarmed.

And well they might be, for it was a huge wooden figure, striding rapidly toward them, its face fixed in an ominously neutral expression. Obviously it intended them no good.

“A golem!” the chief muttered. “We’ll have to fight it.”

The goblins lined up, drawing weapons: sticks, daggers, and the net. The golem strode up without pause.

What did this mean?

Then Agape saw the form of a bat perched on the figure’s head, and understood. Suchevane had brought help!

The golem arrived. The goblins attacked it. Their weapons had no effect; its wooden limbs were impervious. Then it swept its hands around in a double circle, at the goblins’ head level, and knocked over every goblin within range. Its wooden arms were like clubs!

Very quickly the goblins had had enough. They fled. The golem stopped, the bat hopped down—and Suchevane stood there. “Agape!” she exclaimed, as she hurried to remove the bindings. “How glad I be that thou be not hurt!” She paused. “Or did—?”