Piers Anthony - Xanth 09 - Golem in the Gears

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XANTH

Chapter 1. Quest

Grundy Golem stretched and bounced off his

cushion. He looked at himself in the mirror, not totally

pleased. He stood the height of a normal man's spread-

fingered hand, and that was fine for sleeping on a cushion

but not all that great when it came to making an impression

on the Land of Xanth.

It was a nice new day. Almost, he was able to forget

that he was the least significant of living creatures. When

he had been a true golem fashioned of wood and rag he

had longed to be a real living thing, supposing that he

would be satisfied if only he could become flesh. At last

he had won that goal and for a time he had believed that

he was happy. But slowly the truth had sunk in: he was

still only a handsbreadth greater than nothing.

No one took him seriously. They thought he had a

smart mouth because he liked insulting people; actually

it was because he was trying desperately to cover over

his deepening awareness of his own inadequacy. When

he used his talent of language to make some other person

or creature feel low, he felt a little higher himself—for a

moment. But now he knew that this was a false device,

and that his mouth had mainly brought him the contempt

of others. He wished he could undo that damage and make

2 Golem in the Gear*

of himself a genuinely worthwhile and respected person—

but he didn't know how.

Meanwhile, he was hungry. That was a consequence

of being real: he had to eat. It hadn't been that way when

he had been a true golem. Then he had suffered no hunger,

pain, or calls of nature. But he liked it better this way,

he decided, because he also felt living pleasures.

And living miseries...

He slid down the banister and scrambled out the win-

dow that was normally left open for him. He landed in a

clump of toadstools that had sprung up overnight, knock-

ing several over. Unfortunately, a small toad had been

sitting on one.

"Clumsy oaf!" the toad croaked, righting himself.

"Watch where you're going!"

"Listen, frogface," Grundy retorted. "This is my path!

You have no business here."

"I was on a toadstool, as I have a perfect right to be,"

the toad protested. "You just came barging through!"

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The creature had a case, but Grundy didn't care. His

irritation with the situation—and with all ot Xanth—

caused him to react in the familiar way that he wished he

didn't. "Know what I think of that? I'll bash all these

stinky things to smithereens!" And he grabbed up a stick

and laid about him, knocking over toadstools right and

left. Grundy was no giant, but they stood only about knee-

high to him, and were easy to dispatch.

"Help!" the toad croaked. "Berserker on the loose!"

Suddenly there was a stirring throughout the weedy

region beside the castle wall. Toads appeared, hopping in

toward the summons—small ones at first, then larger ones,

and finally one huge one.

Grundy realized he was in trouble. He tried to scramble

up to the window, but the monster toad opened his pon-

Golem in the Gears 3

derous maw and speared the golem with his tongue. The

tongue was sticky; Grundy could not get free. The toad

retracted it and hauled Grundy in.

"Eat him! Eat him!" the massed toads cried. "Teach

him to leave toadstools alone!"

Grundy clutched at a half-buried rock, managing to

halt his progress toward the maw. But now the little toads

hopped on him, pounding him with their feet, and one of

them wet on him.

Disgusted as well as frightened, he grabbed that toad

and heaved it into the maw of the giant toad. The maw

closed. The tongue released Grundy and snapped back

home. Evidently the giant toad didn't mind what he ate.

But the little toads minded. "Get that monster!" they

croaked, and snapped at him with their tongues. They

couldn't do him much damage singly, but as a group

they might. He tried to dodge the snapping tongues, but

there were too many.

In addition, the giant toad was catching on that it hadn't

eaten the whole thing. It reoriented on him.

Then Grundy spied a hypnogourd. That might help!

He ran to it and dived behind it, so that its peephole was

facing away from him and toward the toads. As the giant

toad opened its maw and lined up its terrible tongue,

Grundy shoved the gourd around so that the peephole

bore directly on it.

The big toad looked—and froze. Its gaze had been

trapped by the gourd.

"So there, filth-tongue!" he cried. "Now you're stuck!"

But the little toads weren't stuck. They averted their

gazes and came leaping at him. One landed on his head,

bearing it down. Grundy shook the creature off, but in

the process caught a glimpse of the peephole himself.

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Suddenly he found himself inside the gourd. He was

4 Oolem in the Gears

standing amidst giant wooden gears. The huge toad was

there too, and had a leg caught between two of them. The

gears were drawing it slowly but inevitably between them,

crushing it.

"Halp!" it cried. "I'm gonna croak!"

"Well, you were gonna eat me!" Grundy retorted. But

he didn't like this; it was too ugly a demise.

He tried to pry the toad out, but the gears were too

strong. Then he saw a small, loose gear. He picked it up

and jammed it next to the toad's leg. As the two turning

gears ground together, the loose one was crunched. In a

moment the moving ones shuddered to a stop.

Now a huge stallion appeared, virtually snorting fire.

His hide was midnight black, and his eyes glinted blacker.

"I should have known!" the Night Stallion snorted. "A

golem in the gears!" There was a subtle flicker.

Then Grundy and the giant toad were back in the real

world, out of the gourd. Grundy realized that they had

been ejected. The big toad's leg was whole, but it seemed

to have lost its appetite.

Grundy realized that he had suffered the ultimate

indignity: he had been rejected by the hypnogourd! No

one had any use for him!

He scrambled again for the window, and this time made

it. Fouled with the sticky spittle of the giant and the wet-

ting of the midget, he fell inside. What a mess!

But worse than the ignominy of his present condition

was his realization that he was of so little account that

even a toad could humiliate him. It wasn't just a matter

of size; it was an almost total lack of respect. He was a

nobody, socially as well as physically.

What use was it to be a living creature, if he was of

absolutely no consequence?

He found a bucket of wash water left over from yes-

Golem in the Gears 5

terday's scrubbing of a floor, and labored to get himself

clean. While he worked, he came to a conclusion, an

answer to his question.

It was no use to live without respect. But what could

he do about it? He was what he was, an insignificant

creature.

As he ran across the room, he heard stifled sobbing.

He paused, for now he also cared about others. He was

seldom able to show it in ways they appreciated, but he

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did care. He looked about and discovered that it was a

plant—a small green stem that looked rather wilted.

Grundy's magic talent was the ability to converse with

other living things, so he talked to the plant.

"What's the matter with you, greenface?"

"I'm w-wilting!" the plant responded.

"I can see that, potroot. Why?"

"Because Ivy forgot to w-water me," the plant blub-

bered. "She's so wrapped up with her mischief that—"

It tried to squeeze out another tear, but could not; it had

no water left.

Grundy went to the bathroom, climbed up on the sink

and grabbed the damp sponge there. He hauled this down,

dragged it across the floor, and to the plant. Then he

hefted it up and squeezed it in a bear hug, so that water

dribbled into the pot.

"Oh, thank you!" the plant exclaimed as it drank in

the moisture. "How can I ever repay you?"

Grundy was as selfish as the next creature, but he

didn't see any way the plant could do anything for him,

so he elected to be generous. "Always glad to help a fellow

creature," he said. "I'll tell Ivy to give you a good water-

ing. What's she doing that's so distracting?"

"I'm not supposed to tell..." the plant demurred.

6 Golem in the Gears

Now Grundy saw what the plant could do for him.

"Didn't I just do you a favor, wiltleaf?"

The plant sighed. "Don't tell I told. Ivy's a terror when

she gets mad."

Grundy well knew that! Ivy was eight years old and a

full Sorceress; no one crossed her without regretting it.

"I won't tell."

"She's teaching Dolph to be a bird, so he can fly out

and look for Stanley."

Grundy pursed his tiny lips. That was mischief indeed!

Dolph was her little brother, three years old and a Magi-

cian who could change to any living form instantly. Cer-

tainly he could become a bird and fly away—but just as

certainly that would be disaster, because, if he didn't

promptly get lost, he would get eaten by some airborne

predator. This had to be stopped!

But Grundy had promised not to tell. He had broken

promises before, but he was trying to steer a straighter

course. Also, if he told on Ivy, he would be in immediate

and serious trouble. He had to find some private way to

stop this.

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He went through the motions of breakfast, but found

no answer to his problem. He saw Ivy going to Dolph's

room and knew he had to act—without admitting what

he knew. So he pretended to encounter her accidentally,

intercepting her in the hall. "Whatcha up to, kid?"

"Go away, you little snoop," she said amiably.

"All right—I'll play with Dolph instead."

"Don't you dare!" she said with moderate fury. "I'm

playing with him."

"We can both play with him," Grundy suggested. To

that she was unable to demur, because she didn't want

to give away her secret by being too insistent.

Dolph was up and dressed and ready to play. He was

Golem in the Gears 7

a handsome little boy with curly brown hair and a big

smile. "See—I'm a bird!" he exclaimed, and suddenly he

was a bird, a pretty red and green one.

"Ixnay," Ivy whispered, but Dolph was already chang-

ing back, pleased with his accomplishment.

"Can I go out and fly now?" he asked.

"Why would you want to fly?" Grundy inquired as if

innocently.

"He doesn't," Ivy said quickly.

But Dolph was already answering. "I'm going to catch

a dragon!" he said proudly.

"No, he isn't!" Ivy cried.

"That's very good, Dolph," Grundy said. "What dragon

will you catch?"

"No dragon!" Ivy cried.

"Stanley Steamer," Dolph said. "He's lost."

Grundy turned to Ivy as if surprised. "What's he talking

about? You know he's not allowed to go out alone."

"I told you not to snoop!" Ivy said furiously. "It's none

of your business!"

"But you can't send Dolph out! If anything happened

to him, your father would ask the walls of Castle Roogna

who put him up to it, and then your mother would—"

Ivy put both hands protectively against her backside,

knowing where her mother's wrath would strike. "But

I've got to rescue Stanley!" she wailed. "He's my pet

dragon!"

"But nobody even knows where he is," Grundy pointed

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