Part 22 (1/2)

”Who sought whom?” Hugo asked her. ”Did the harpy go to meet the goblin, in your experience?”

”Well, Glory said--”

He frowned competently. ”No hearsay, please. What did you actually witness?”

”Well, I saw Glory walking--”

”And did she seek out the harpy?”

”Yes, we helped her find him, at the mouth organ.”

”So in your experience, she went to meet him, not vice versa?”

”The vice is all his!” Gorbage cried, ”That is,” Hugo clarified for the less intelligent goblins, ”she sought him, not the other way around?”

”Yes, but--”

”That suffices.” Hugo turned to the jury again. ”As you can see, the harpy is ready to perjure himself to save the goblin girl, but we have now established independently that she was the one taking the initiative, not he. The defendant is therefore innocent of the charge of corrupting, because he is in fact the one being corrupted. You have no other choice but to let him off.”

The jurors looked uncertainly at Gorbage. ”Ridiculous!” the goblin chief exclaimed. ”All that's out of order! The dirty bird is on trial here; he's the one to be executed!”

”Oh, no he's not!” Glory cried. ”I did it! I confess! I corrupted him! I'm the one to be executed!”

”As goblins,” Hugo said smoothly, ”you can dismiss the confession of a harpy, but you can not doubt the word of another goblin. Therefore--”

”Never!” Gorbage and Hardy said together. Ivy knew the goblin chief didn't want to execute his own daughter; he wanted to make her marry a goblin man. Hugo and Glory had put him on the spot.

But Gorbage was cunning and unscrupulous, the very model of a goblin leader. ”It is not for the persecutor or the deafender to decide the issue,” he proclaimed. ”It is for the jury.” He turned to the other goblins. ”Jury--reach your verdict. You know what it is.”

The jury-rigged goblins pondered momentarily, then caught on. ”Guilty!” they cried.

”But that's not fair!” Hugo protested, losing some of his courtroom poise.

”Don't worry--we'll execute you, too, twerp, after we're done basting the bird.” Gorbage turned to Hardy. ”Deaf-endant, you have been found guilty of corrupting and polluting this innocent goblin girl. I hereby sentence you to be--” He paused, considering the most awful way to do it. ”To be burned at the stake and roasted for dinner!” He turned to the jury-goblins. ”Go fetch wood for the fire. We'll have a feast!”

The goblins dashed about, foraging for wood. ”No!” Glory cried tearfully. ”Don't do it. Father! Let him go! I'll do anything--”

”You'll marry a goblin chief,” Gorbage told her. ”Same as your sister did. After the bird's done.”

Stanley had almost freed himself, but it looked as if he would be too late to help Hardy. The trial had not lasted quite long enough.

The goblins piled wood against Hardy's perch. In moments the fire was ready to be lit. Gorbage produced one of his treasures--a huge Mundane match. The Mundanes practiced very little magic, but this fire-lighting stick was part of what they did have. ”Now who shall have the privilege of igniting the conflagration?” he asked dramatically.

”I'll never speak to you again!” Glory cried helplessly at her father.

Unfazed by this dire threat, Gorbage turned to her. ”Ah, yes, the persecutor. Who is more fitting to light the fire?” He handed her the match.

”You're insane!” she cried. ”I'll never--”

”Can you guess what we shall do to the bird before we croak him--if you don't?” Gorbage asked her.

Glory quailed. It was obvious that the goblins practiced terrible tortures. She couldn't let them do that to Hardy! Ivy cast about for something to do to stop this, but she and Hugo remained tied, Stanley was not yet free, and the goblins were all around.

Glory approached the pile--and drew her knife. Gorbage, antic.i.p.ating this, dashed it out of her hand before she could try to cut the rope that tethered Hardy. ”You wouldn't be a goblin if you didn't try a trick like that,” Gorbage said approvingly. ”You'll make some chief real miserable someday. Now strike that match.”

Glory's head drooped. Tears squeezed from her eyes. She found a rock and struck the match against it. The match burst into flame, hissing loudly. She hurled it into the pile of brush, where it ignited the dry leaves and moss set amidst the wood--and threw herself after it.

”No!” Gorbage cried, this time caught by surprise. ”Get her out of there!”

But Glory had hold of the post, and already the fire was spreading through the eager brush. She intended to die with her beloved.

Ivy stumbled toward the fire, not knowing what else to do. She could not stop the flame; even if her hands had not been tied, she would have been largely helpless. Suddenly she was very much aware of the limitations of her age. Yet there was something-- Goblins were everywhere, screaming, trying to get rid of the fire. Glory, with goblinish cunning, had certainly found the way to foul them up!

Ivy fell into the brush, on the side not yet burning--and there was Glory, her hand on Hardy's claw-foot, crying and clinging tight.

”You can do it!” Ivy cried, suddenly certain that love could conquer all. ”You can save him somehow!”

Glory looked at her. Hardy looked down at her. Smoke wafted across, stinging Ivy's eyes, forcing them shut--and when it pa.s.sed and she opened them again, tearily, both Glory and Hardy were gone.

Ivy blinked. She saw the vines that formed the rope that had tied the harpy's feet. Now they were tied about nothing--and untying themselves. In moments the vines dropped into the brush, empty. What was happening?

The goblins were staring, equally mystified. ”Where's the bird?” one cried.

”Where's my daughter?” Gorbage roared. ”Find them!”

Goblins scurried all around again, searching for the fugitives.

Ivy felt something. She was being hauled backward, out of the burning brush, before the flame reached her. Then hands were at her bonds, untying them, and soon she was free. But when she turned to look, there was no one there.

Hugo, standing beside her now, looked startled. His bonds were untying themselves, too! Ivy saw the ropes flip about and release their knots.

Stanley burst out of the net and came to join them. ”Hey, the dragon's loose!” a goblin cried.

The goblins turned and charged, raising their clubs--and Stanley blasted them with steam, sending them reeling back.

”Run!” a voice cried. It sounded like Glory--but she was not there. ”We'll distract them! You folk get away! You helped us, now we'll help you!

Ivy and Hugo and Stanley ran. Two goblins pursued them--but a fallen branch lifted itself up and tripped them. Then a flaming branch came from the brushfire and waved itself about menacingly.

Daunted, the goblins fell back; it seemed the inanimate was coming to life to threaten them! The trio made it to the shelter of a nearby tree.

”What's happening?” Ivy asked breathlessly. ”I never saw magic like this before!”

”They're invisible,” Hugo said, using his enhanced intellect to figure it out. ”See, Stanley can hear them and smell them; he's not worried.” Indeed he wasn't; the little dragon was grinning with all his sharp little teeth as he watched the burning branch set fire to the pants of one goblin. Since goblins did not wear pants, it was quite an effect.

”But goblins can't do magic!” Ivy said. ”Neither can harpies!”