Piers Anthony - Castle Roogna

Dor pondered the implications. He had indeed achieved his victory by lying. Was that the way it should be? He doubted it. He made a mental resolution: no more lying. Not unless absolutely necessary. If a thing could not be accomplished honestly, probably it wasn't worth accomplishing at all.

"I never realized what a coward I was," Dor said, changing the subject slightly. "I'll never grow up."

"I'm a coward too," Grundy said consolingly. "I've never been so scared since I turned real."

"One more challenge to handle-the worst one. I wish I were man-sized and man-couraged!"

"Me too," the golem agreed.

The passage terminated in a conventional door with a conventional door latch. "Here we come, ready or not," Dor muttered.

"You're not ready," the door replied.

Dor ignored it. He worked the latch and opened the door.

There was a small room paneled in bird-of-paradise feathers. A woman of extraordinary perfection stood watching them. She wore a low-cut gown, jeweled sandals, a comprehensive kerchief, and an imported pair of Mundane dark glasses. "Welcome, guests," she breathed, in such a way that Dor's gaze was attracted to the site of breathing, right where the gown was cut lowest yet fullest.

"Uh, thanks," Dor said, nonplused. This was the worst hazard of all? He needed no adult-male vision to see that it was a hazard few men would balk at.

"There's something about her-I don't like this," Grundy whispered in his ear. "I know her from somewhere-"

"Here, let me have a look at you," the woman said, lifting her hand to her glasses. Dor's glance was drawn away from her torso to her face. Her hair began to move under her kerchief, as if separately alive.

Grundy stiffened. "Close your eyes!" he cried. "I recognize her now. Those serpent locks-that's the gorgon!"

Dor's eyes snapped closed. He barged ahead, trying to get out of the room before any accident caused him to take an involuntary look. He knew what the gorgon was; her glance turned men to stone. If they met that glance with their own.

His blindly moving feet tripped over a step, and Dor fell headlong. He threw his arms up to shield his face, but did not open his eyes. He landed jarringly and lay there, eyelids still tightly screwed down.

There was the swish of long skirts coming near. "Get up, young man," the gorgon said. Her voice was deceptively soft.

"No!" Dor cried. "I don't want to turn to stone!"

"You won't turn to stone. The hurdles are over; you have won your way into the castle of the Good Magician Humfrey. No one will harm you here."

"Go away!" he said. "I won't look at you!"

She sighed, very femininely. "Golem, you look at me. Then you can reassure your friend."

"I don't want to be stone either!" Grundy protested. "I had too much trouble getting real to throw it away now. I saw what happened to all those men your sister the siren lured to your island."

"And you also saw how the Good Magician nullified me. There is no threat now."

"That's right! He-but how do I know the spell's still on? It's been a long time since-"

"Take this mirror and look at me through the reflection first," she said. "Then you will know."

"I can't handle a big mirror! I'm only inches tall, only a-oh, what's the use! Dor, I'm going to look at her. If I turn to stone, you'll know she can't be trusted."

"Grundy, don't-"

"I already have," the golem said, relieved. "It's all right, Dor, you can look."

Grundy had never deceived him. Dor clenched his teeth and cracked open an eye, seeing the lighted room and the gorgon's nearest foot. It was a very pretty foot, with fluorescently tinted toenails, topped by a shapely ankle. Funny how he had never noticed ankles before! He got to his hands and knees, his eyes traveling cautiously up her marvelously molded legs until the view was cut off by the hem of her gown. It was a shapely gown, too, slightly translucent so that the suggestion of her legs continued on up to-but enough of this stalling. He forced his reluctant eyes to travel all the way up past her contours until they approached her head.

Her hair, now unbound, consisted of a mass of writhing little snakes. They were appealingly horrible. But the face was nothing. Just a vacuum, as if the head were a hollow ball with the front panel removed.

"But-but I saw your face before, all except the eyes-"

"You saw this mask of my face," she said, holding it up. "And the dark glasses. There was never any chance for you to look into my true face."

So it seemed. "Then why-?"

"To scare you off-if you lacked the courage to do what is necessary in order to reach the Good Magician."

"I just closed my eyes and ran," Dor said.

"But you ran forward, not back."

So he had. Even in his terror, he had not given up his quest. Or had he merely run whichever way he happened to be facing? Dor wasn't sure. He considered the gorgon again. Once he got used to the anomaly of her missing face, he found her quite attractive. "But you-what is a gorgon doing here?"

"I am serving my year's fee, awaiting my Answer." Dor shook his head, trying to get this straight. "You?-if I may ask-what was your Question?"

"I asked the Good Magician if he would marry me."

Dor choked. "He-he made you-serve a fee, for that?"

"Oh, yes. He always charges a year's service, or the equivalent. That's why he has so much magic around the castle. He's been in this business for a century or so."

"I know all that! But yours was a different kind of-"

She seemed to smile, behind her invisibility. "No exceptions, except maybe on direct order from the King. I don't mind. I knew what to expect when I came here. Soon my year will be finished, and I will have my Answer."

Grundy shook his little head. "I thought the old gnome was nuts. But this-he's crazy!"

"By no means," the gorgon said. "I could make him a pretty good wife, once I learn the ropes. He may be old, but he's not dead, and he needs-"

"I meant, to make you work a year-why doesn't he just marry you, and have your service for life?"

"You want me to ask him a second Question, and serve another year for the Answer?" she demanded.

"Uh, no. I was just curious. I don't really understand the Good Magician."

"You and everyone else!" she agreed wryly, and Dor began to feel an affinity for this shapely, faceless female. "But slowly I'm learning his ways. It is a good question you raise; I shall have to think about it, and maybe I can figure out that answer for myself. If he wants my service, why would he settle for a year of It when he could readily have it all? If he doesn't want my service, why not send me out to guard the moat or something where he won't have to see me every day? There has got to be a reason." She scratched her head, causing several snakes to hiss warningly.

"Why do you even want to marry him?" Grundy asked. "He's such a gloomy old gnome, he's no prize for a woman, especially a pretty one."

"Who said I wanted to marry him?"

Grundy did a rare double take. "You distinctly-your Question-"

"That is for information, golem. Once I know whether he will marry me, I'll be able to decide whether I should do it. It's a difficult decision."

"Agreed," Grundy said. "King Trent must have labored similarly before marrying Queen Iris."

"Do you love him?" Dor inquired.

"Well, I think I do. You see, he's the first man who ever associated with me without…you know." She nodded her head toward the corner. There was the statue of a man, carved beautifully in marble.

"That's-?" Dor asked, alarmed.

"No, I really am a statue," the stone answered him. "A fine original work of sculpture."

"Humfrey won't let me do any real conversions," the gorgon said. "Not even for old times' sake. I'm just here to identify the foolish or to scare off the fault-hearted. The Magician won't answer cowards."