Part 21 (1/2)

”Yes,” Glory breathed.

Now Ivy began to catch on to what that meant. Kissing must be more fun to music!

Hardy led the way through the forest, flying low and slow so they could readily follow. A pleasant masculine aroma wafted out from his wings, quite different from the normal harpy hen stench.

Suddenly a net flew through the air and settled over them all. Before they understood what was happening, the five of them were bundled up in an awkward ball. Stanley's green tail was in Ivy's face, and she was standing on one of Hardy's wings, and Glory was sitting on Hugo's head. Hideous little men were charging from all sides, brandis.h.i.+ng clubs. ”Now we've got you!” one man yelled.

”Father!” Glory screamed, chagrined.

Stanley blew out steam, but this only made Hardy jump; the dragon's snoot was aimed inward instead of outward, so he couldn't steam the attackers.

Now Ivy recognized the creatures. They were male goblins. Each was so dusky as to be almost black, with a huge head, big flat feet, a b.u.mpy round body, and a horrendous scowl. What were they doing here, south of the Gap?

That was answered directly by the goblin chief. ”Now we've got the criminal harpy!” Gorbage exclaimed, grimacing in what was evidently supposed to be a smile of victory.

”That's redundant,” another goblin said. ”All harpies are criminals.”

There was coa.r.s.e general laughter. ”Yes, birds of a foul feather,” Gorbage agreed.

”And we'll hang him,” a third goblin said, making a suggestive gesture of yanking up a rope and sticking out his purple tongue as if choking.

”Naw, he'd just fly away,” another said. ”We'll stab him!” And he made a gesture with a mock knife, as of guts being punctured.

”Better to club him to tar and feathers!”

”Force-feed him poison-berries!”

”Weight him down and toss him into a bottomless pond!”

They crowded around, leering, barraging him with horrible suggestions, each one worse than the others.

”Oh, Hardy!” Glory cried. ”It's my tribe! They must have followed me! I didn't know!”

Suddenly Ivy realized what Stanley had been sniffing for. The goblins had been following Glory and the party all the time--not close enough for the dragon to identify them for sure, but still, he had been aware of something. If only she had paid more attention, instead of chiding Stanley for not sticking strictly to the mouth organ scent! She could have asked the dragon what was bothering him and had him tune in to it specifically; maybe they could have spotted the goblins and arranged to avoid them. Certainly they could have saved Hardy Harpy from this treachery! Now they were all in trouble.

At age three. Ivy did not have much experience with the cunning of angry creatures. But she was learning.

”First we must put this carrion on trial,” Gorbage said. ”We must make an example of him, so the rest of the birdbrains will know not to fool with goblins.”

They untangled the captives one at a time, tying Hugo and Ivy with lengths of vine, wrapping Stanley securely in the net so he could hardly even wiggle, and knotting rope around the legs of Hardy and anchoring him to a stake pounded into the ground, so that he could perch but not fly. They left Glory free. She was, after all, only a goblin girl, pretty but helpless.

”Now we gotta do this right,” Gorbage said. ”We gotta have a jury-rigged verdict before we croak him. Who wants to be the jury?”

All the goblin hands went up. There were about a dozen of them, each one uglier than his fellows and more eager to do the dirty work.

”Good enough; you're the jury,” Gorbage said. ”And I'm the judge.”

”But that's not fair!” Glory protested.

”Shut up,” Gorbage told her mildly, and she was silent. It was difficult for her to oppose her father.

”Do something, Hugo!” Ivy whispered. ”You're smart; you can think of something to save our friends!”

Hugo was pale and frightened; he had perhaps a better idea than she did of how much was at stake here. Notions of extreme violence tended to slide past Ivy's awareness because she had never been exposed to such concepts before. Hugo had lived more than twice as long; experience had given him a more sober perspective. He knew that Hardy was not the only one in present peril.

But he tried. ”Hey, goblins!” he called. ”You can't do that! My father says--”

”And who's your father, twerp?” Gorbage demanded.

”Good Magician Humfrey.”

This made the goblins pause. They had heard of Humfrey. Monsters and kings came and went, but the Good Magician was relatively eternal.

”Can't be,” Gorbage finally concluded. ”The old gnome's over a century old. He wouldn't have any kids this age. Get on with the trial.”

”You've still got it wrong,” Hugo said determinedly. ”You have to have a--a prosecutor and a defender, and witnesses and all, or--”

Gorbage swelled up like a toad with indigestion. ”Or what, twerp?”

Hugo quailed before the challenge, but Ivy was sure he had the courage to continue, for he was her Night in s.h.i.+ny Armor, even if the armor didn't show any more than Stanley's pedestal did. As it turned out, Hugo did indeed have the courage. ”Or it doesn't count,” he said firmly.

”Who says it doesn't count?” Gorbage demanded belligerently.

Again Hugo needed a boost of confidence, but Ivy's faith was strong, and so he had it. ”The law. And people who don't follow the law of the land are crooks and thieves and murderers and all-around bad folk--which I guess goblins are anyway.”

”What?” the goblin chief exclaimed, brandis.h.i.+ng his dark fist. ”It's the harpies who are bad folk! I'll exterminate you, you smart-mouthed twit!”

”Yes, of course,” Hugo agreed. ”That's what murderers do, by definition.”

Again Gorbage paused. He was cunning enough to see that he could not handily disprove the charge of murder by murdering his accuser. Hugo had verbally outmaneuvered him. ”Okay, snot! We'll have a persecutor and deaf-ender and witlesses.” He glared around, but there were no free goblins; all twelve were on the hanging jury. ”But I have no more people!”

”Too bad,” Hugo said. ”Then you can't have a proper trial, and everyone will know you for what you are: a gutless murderer who kills innocent people dead.”

”We'll have the trial!” Gorbage insisted, swelling to just this side of the bursting point. ”You smart-mouth--you be the deaf-ender.--And--and my daughter'll be the persecutor. Then the mur--the execution's all legal.”

”I won't--” Glory began, but Hugo interrupted her.

”Yes, she'll do it,” he said. ”That's fair.”

”What?” Glory shrieked.

”He's up to something,” Ivy whispered to her. ”He's very smart. You'd better do it.”

Dismayed, the goblin girl was silent. ”Okay, now we got it,” Gorbage said, grimacing smugly. ”Persecutor, make your winning case.”

Reluctantly, Glory went to stand before Hardy's post. Ivy saw her hand move toward her knife, but she didn't draw it. Any attempt to cut Hardy's tether would bring the goblins down on them in a savage horde. ”I intend to--to prove to this dumb jury that the defendant is the handsomest, finest, nicest male creature alive, better than any ugly old k.n.o.bby-kneed goblin--”

”Out of order!” Judge Gorbage ruled. ”You're supposed to prove that this feathered freak is guilty of corrupting and polluting a fine goblin damsel and must be instantly put to death in the crudest possible manner.”

Stanley was quietly chewing on his net. He had separated several strands and was working on others. In due course he would be free--if he had time to complete the job without being noticed. Glory's eye fell on him and lighted with comprehension. A loose dragon could disrupt a trial long enough for a tether to be cut!