A wizard’s reputation is his bond, or so the sages say. And, as all learned men know, a reputation is difficult to build, and all too easily besmirched. The wizard with a fallen reputation is often led to less savory forms of employ, and, while these sometimes pay better than whatever the wizard was doing before, they are not the sort of thing one writes home to Mother about. The successful wizard, therefore, should develop three or four reputations simultaneously, and then, happily, will have one for every occasion.
- THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM,
VOLUME XIII
Perhaps, on the other hand, escape was a very good idea. I looked again, out over the multitude of monsters. A dozen scantily clad women were pushing large wooden carts through the crowd. The carts appeared to be refreshment wagons, filled with large kegs of mead, trays full of biscuits and small sandwiches, and little, squirmy things that squealed loudly when the creatures swallowed them.
I could but hope that if they ate those things, they would be less hungry for me. There was nothing for it but to go out amidst the crowd.
“Hey! It’s the human!”
I was already attracting notice.
“Do you think he’s a wizard?”
There was a coarse laugh. “Sure, and I’m a Pooka!”
“Wait a second. I thought you were a Pooka!”
“No, I’m a Nix! Good heavens, don’t you have any eyes in that Chimera head of yours?”
“What do you mean? I’m not a Chimera!”
I lost track of the conversation when one of the voluptuously attractive, and nearly naked, women stood before me.
“Hello, big boy,” she said huskily.
“Why—um,” I replied. She took my hand as I spoke. Her pink tongue moved slowly across her white teeth.
“Would you like a little something?” the husky voice asked.
“Why—um,” I replied. I seemed to have broken into a heavy sweat. I did not realize the day was so warm.
“Hey! Keep your hands off our Nymphs!” A short fellow with a pointy beard stared angrily at me.
“Who are you?” I had the awful feeling that a wizard would know more about mythical beasts than I did. What little I had learned came from conversations with Hubert, a dragon of my acquaintance who was pursuing a career in vaudeville. And Hubert hadn’t talked at all about short fellows with pointy beards.
“Get a load of this guy!” The pointy-bearded fellow, who also appeared to have hooves and a tail, sneered. “You know what a Satyr is, don’t you?”
Oh. I was on safe ground now. This was something I had discussed with Hubert. “Sure,” I replied. “That’s a form of comedy, right?”
“Who is this guy?” The bearded fellow searched the heavens above us. “No. Satyr. S-A-T-Y-R! You know, the pipes of Pan! Frolicking and disporting with Nymphs among the spring flowers! That sort of thing!”
“Why, certainly.” I dismissed my foolish error with a wave of my wizardly hand. “Now that you say so, of course. It’s just that I have a few things on my mind. . . .”
“And your mind is where they’re going to stay!” The Satyr glanced at the nearly naked Nymph. “Scoot, Nymphie. We’ll do some frolicking and disporting later on, okay?”
The Nymph showed me a final smile.
“Maybe I can get you something sometime, big boy.” Her voice, if anything, was lower and huskier than before.
“Why—um,” I replied as I watched her retreat through the crowd.
“You keep shaking your head like that, you’ll get sick,” a deep voice said nearby. I looked up to see a massive wall of gray flesh. “Us Bog Womblers know all about sick.”
So I had made my way through the throng to the Bog Wombler. That meant I was almost to the edge of the clearing. Perhaps I could escape after all.
“Indeed,” I replied, doing my best to act wizardly. “Here I am, taking a stroll, to get some air.”
“Not a bad idea, with that crowd,” the huge creature intoned. “Bog Womblers don’t like crowds.”
“Indeed,” I stated.
“There’s a stream just behind me. You might want to refresh yourself. If we don’t have a stream around, we Bog Womblers are in big trouble.”
“Indeed?” I answered, barely able to contain my elation. A stream? I wondered if any of the creatures came by boat. My escape was beginning to seem more possible with every passing minute.
Still, I shouldn’t appear too eager. I would engage in small talk for an instant, then saunter away.
“Pardon me,” I said, “but I don’t know what a Bog Wombler does.”
“You’re not alone. No one ever knows.” It paused and sighed, fixing me with a single, bloodshot eye.
“We womble,” it said at last.
“Oh,” I replied. “Indeed. How interesting. I think I’ll go and get that drink you suggested. Awfully nice meeting you.”
I skirted the Bog Wombler and headed for freedom.
The stream was not as deserted as I had hoped. Another two dozen strange creatures, many with extremely fishy characteristics, lounged in and about the water. Possibly, if I were to wander downstream a bit. . . I gave a wide berth to the nastier-looking fish-things. With some reluctance, I passed the Mermaids by without a second glance.
The trees grew larger and thicker as I walked downstream, which suited my purpose perfectly. No one had tried to stop me. Even if I couldn’t find a boat, the foliage might give me, sufficient cover to escape on foot.
Somehow, though, I would have to double back and rescue my master. And while I might be able to move quickly through the forest for hours on end, I doubted if the wizard was yet up to it. For that reason alone, a boat would be very useful.
I came to a bend in the stream. There, moored in the shallows, was a canoe.
My luck got better with every passing moment! At this rate, Ebenezum and I would be well on our way to Vushta by nightfall.
The boat was tied by a line to a sturdy oak. It took me a moment to undo the knot, fiendishly tied, I imagined, by some hands that were not quite human. I gave a muted cry of satisfaction as the final strand pulled free. Now I would push the canoe silently downstream, and hide it somewhere to avoid detection until I had rescued Ebenezum and brought him back to the craft.
I squatted to push the canoe fully into the water.
The canoe didn’t move.
Something was keeping it from moving. I now took note of the fact that the boat seemed to contain a horse’s hoof.
“Hi there,” the Hippogriff said.
Panic struck me. Clearly it was time for a change of plans.
“Well, excuse me!” I cried, doing my best to conjure up wizardly indignation. “It appears I can’t have any privacy at all! I’ll have you know that even we wizards have certain bodily functions that we have to take care of.”
“In a boat?” The Hippogriff shook its eagle beak. “Guess you’ll just have to hold it in now, won’t you? It’s time for the meeting to begin.”
The beast looked aloft and whistled. “Oh, Rok!”
There was a great fluttering of wings.
The Hippogriff fixed me again with its eagle stare. “You’ve been a naughty human, wandering away like that when we needed your wizardly skill. But you’re the guest of honor. Spare no expense, right? So we’ll get you an express ride back to the podium.”
Something very large landed next to me.
“Hey,” the huge bird drawled. “What’s happening?”
“Got another job for you, Rok,” the Hippogriff said. “We need to get this guy back to the podium in a hurry.”
“Hey,” the Rok replied. “That’s cool.”
“And, Rok?” the Hippogriff said somewhat tentatively. “I’ve got a request from my father, the Griffin? It seems you dropped some of this fellow’s things last time you carried him. My pop was wondering if you’d kind of be a little more careful?”
The huge bird focused its eyes for the first time. It glared at the Hippogriff. “Hey, horse, I got big claws. Sometimes things slip away. Sometimes they don’t.” It flexed a claw idly, crushing a tree. “Dig?”
This was terrible. There had to be some way that I could get away.
“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to sound a bit more humble than before. “I really could use a bush somewhere.”
“You should have thought of that earlier,” the Hippogriff replied. “Now, it’s showtime!”
The Rok’s claws surrounded me.
“Listen, if it gets really bad,” the Hippogriff added, “there’s a crawl space under the stage.”
The beast waved its wing as the Rok carried me aloft.
“Nothing is too good for our guests!” were the last words I heard before the Hippogriff, too, took flight.
The crowd didn’t seem to notice us passing overhead. I heard snatches of conversation as I flew by.
“Would you stop changing your shape every two minutes? It’s very difficult to concentrate—”
“How can I tell you’re the Sphinx?”
“How about a riddle? I’ve got a million of them. What’s yellow, has four wings, weighs two thousand pounds and goes—”
I had grabbed on to the claws and had a much better view than the first time I’d traveled this way. That’s how I managed to see something out of the corner of my eye. Something dark and fast-moving, and maybe as big as the Rok. It was too high in the sky to tell. Maybe what it was was something that hadn’t been invited to this convention. Whatever that could possibly be. . .
The Rok deposited me on the dirt by the stage. The Hippogriff landed nearby.
“About time you got back,” the Griffin growled. It removed its claws from where it had been shredding a corner of the stage.
“Pop, I think I saw—” the Hippogriff began worriedly.
“Here we are”—the Griffin cut the youngster off—”at the most important moment ever in the history of mythological beastdom, and you two are galavanting around. Don’t give a thought to the old Griffin, oh no. I’m merely the one running the show. Who cares if I’m kept informed?”
The Griffin leapt six feet straight into the air, grabbing a small bird in its beak. It crashed back onto the stage, crunching and swallowing noisily.
“Haven’t even had time for a decent meal,” it mumbled.
There might be a way out of this yet. Perhaps I could get on this beast’s good side. If it had a good side.
“Indeed,” I said, “the weight of responsibility upon you must be terrible.”
The Griffin nodded solemnly.
“How did they pick you to be the leader, if I might inquire?”
“Quiet down out there!” The Griffin raked its claws through the air so fast it made the wind sing. The crowd got considerably quieter. “Oh, I know exactly how to deal with creatures. I always thought it was my Griffin’s keen sense of humor and personal style. Keep them laughing, that’s what I always say.” It raised its voice to the crowd again. “Are you going to be quiet out there, or is there going to be trouble?”
The crowd got quieter still. “You’re to be commended,” I added. “You’ve really gathered quite a variety of creatures.”
“Yep, got almost everybody,” the Griffin replied. “We’re still waiting for the Phoenix. He keeps promising to show up.”
Could that be what I saw? A Phoenix? Then why wasn’t he here?
The Griffin looked wistfully at the sky. “You’d think there’d be more birds. I don’t work well on an empty stomach. Oh well, it can’t be helped.” The beast sighed. “We have history to make.”
“Fellow mythological beasts!” The Griffin’s voice rang out over the throng. “ ‘Tis the time for decision! Bring out the unicorn!”
The crowd began to chant the phrase that had puzzled me before. It sounded like “Half-past three! Half-past three!” Was someone keeping track of the time?
“Yes, that’s right!” the Griffin continued. “This is our moment in history. No longer will we have to take a back seat to unicorns, dragons and the like. We’re here to see that we get our fair share of tapestry space!”
The crowd was on its feet, or wings, or fins, or, in the case of the Bog Wombler, whatever.
“That’s right, mythical beasts! Our fair share of tapestry space! And a maiden for every monster!”
The crowd was at it again. “Tap-es-try!” they called. “Tapestry! Tapestry!”
Oh, that was it then. Tapestry. Quite simple, really.
Hoots of derision rose from the audience. The Hippogriff was leading in the unicorn.
“Here, then,” the Griffin was saying, “is our chief competition.”
Shouts of “Nyah-nyah-nyah!” and “Who’s the walking hat rack?” followed the unicorn through the crowd. Somehow, the magnificent beast seemed above it all.
“Now, what has this beast got that we don’t have?” the Griffin asked. “A golden horn perhaps. A magnificent coat, maybe, a stately bearing? Even—hah!—a way with virgins? Not enough, I say! Why are tapestries so crowded with unicorns? How come dragons have cornered the damsel-in-distress market? It sets a mythological beast to thinking, let me tell you!”
The Griffin waved a wing grandly in my direction. “That’s why we invited a wizard here today. True, he may not be much of a wizard, but we’re operating on very short notice. Still, we are here to show the wizard the wisdom of our course, and to let him use his magic to spread the word!”
A voice came from the crowd. “Then can we eat him?”
“Only if he doesn’t do his job!” The Griffin made a short, barking sound that might have been a laugh. “But all kidding aside, fellow creatures! No longer will maidens flock solely to unicorns and dragons! Once we’re done, every Kobold and Hob and Fruich among you will have a dozen tapestries, and maidens beating down your door!”
“Tap-es-try!” the crowd chanted. “Tap-es-try!”
A mournful voice cut through the melee.
“What about us Bog Womblers?”
“Bog Womblers, too! When we are done, every Bog Wombler will be covered with maidens!”
That many maidens? It was an awesome thought. From the size of the thing, I would guess a Bog
Wombler would take up a tapestry all by itself.
“How about Satyrs?” somebody cried. “Satyrs already get maidens!”
One of the pointy-bearded fellows jumped forward. “We do not! We get Nymphs. It’s another thing altogether. You have to spend all your time chasing them around the forest.” The fellow shook his fists with frustration. “And have you ever tried to have an intelligent conversation with a Nymph? All they want to talk about is the weather and flower arrangements!”
“Yes, yes!” the Griffin agreed. “Maidens for everyone!” The beast turned to me. “Are you ready?”
I cleared my throat. “Indeed?” I managed. “Ready for what?”
“For the big moment, of course. Oh. We haven’t explained that, have we? So much to do, so little time. You’ll forgive me for not telling you this before, won’t you? That’s a good human.”
“Now wait a minute!” I shouted. “You get a big bird to drag me and my master to this place, plop me down in a leaky, drafty shack, throw me out here without any breakfast, and expect me to perform for everybody? I will do no such thing!” They had finally done it. I was angry.
“Hmm,” the Griffin mused. “Perhaps this fellow is a wizard after all.” The beast turned to the Hippogriff. “Son, see if you can find some—oh, whatever it is humans eat!”
“Sure, Pop!” The Hippogriff galloped off the stage. The Griffin turned back to me. “Now that we have addressed your needs, we can get down to business.
“Fellow mythological creatures! Our guest, the wizard, has asked for a few minutes to prepare his spells before he broadcasts our message to wizards everywhere. A reasonable request, I think, and one that will give him a chance to hear more about our noble purpose!”
Shouts of “Yeah, wizard! That’s tellin’ him!” and “Let’s eat the unicorn!” drifted in from the crowd.
“In the meantime,” the Griffin continued, “I will explore some of the finer points of our seventy-two demands, to be presented to all of humanity, as well as the world below.”
The world below? Was this creature talking about the Netherhells? Now that I thought of it, I remembered Ebenezum once telling me that magical beasts were only partially of this world, and partially Netherhells-inspired. That meant they might have connections who would know the Netherhells’ fiendish plots!
“You’re talking about the Netherhells!” I interrupted loudly.
The Griffin paused in its oratory.
“Yes?”
“But the demons have concocted some fantastic scheme to rule the world above ground, too!”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the Griffin said. “We know all about that.”
“You know what the Netherhells intend?” I cried. “You have to tell me!”
“Sorry.” The Griffin shook its head. “We have an understanding with the Netherhells. They’re fantastic creatures, too, you know. Besides, it would hurt our bargaining position.”
I started to object, when the Hippogriff galloped back on the stage. The creature dropped a bundle at my feet.
“Sorry, fella,” the beast said. “Best I could do on short notice.”
The bundle was moving and making mewling noises.
“No time to cook anything, I’m afraid.” The Hippogriff shrugged its wings.
I decided not to look inside. “Indeed,” I muttered. “I’ll eat it later.”
“Fellow creatures!” The Griffin had returned to its oratory. For the moment, I had lost my chance. My mind raced. What could these strange creatures know about the foul schemes of the Netherhells? And how could I get them to talk?
“The time has come,” the Griffin continued, “to promote ourselves before the unlearned masses. Tis a sad fact that Sphinxes and Hippogriffs rarely crop up in everyday conversation. Hobs and Kobolds are talked about even less. We are going to change all that!”
Some members of the crowd cheered.
“Our first order of business today is to devise phrases that will help the unwashed masses identify us. I will give you an example:
“If one of the masses should describe something as ‘As lovely as a unicorn,’ or ‘As deadly as a dragon,’ no one hearing them would think twice. They know all about unicorns and dragons. They see them on tapestries. They’re constantly having to go out and rescue maidens from their clutches! Unicorns and dragons are a part of their everyday lives!
“But what of Chimeras and Centaurs? I have gone up to a member of the unwashed and said that word—’Chimera!’ And what did they say to me? I’ll tell you! They said ‘Gesundheit!’
“Let me assure you, this is a situation we can no longer tolerate. If unicorns and dragons are known by their slogans, the rest of us will have slogans as well!”
Now the crowd went wild.
The Hippogriff brought the unicorn up onto the stage.
The Griffin glanced at the brilliant white creature with the golden horn. “I brought this unicorn before us for a purpose. We can look at this beast and know that it is no better than any of us.”
The unicorn snorted and shook its magnificently flowing mane. Taut muscles rippled beneath its perfect coat. Its golden horn glinted in the sun.
“Well,” the Griffin added, “perhaps it is a little better than some of us, but I’m sure that we all have hidden attributes that a unicorn couldn’t even dream of!”
The Griffin spread its wings. “All right now! We need to start somewhere, and I have decided that I shall volunteer, to demonstrate one approach we might take. To begin, I look down upon my physical form, and catalogue my various positive features.”
The creature flapped its wings with slow majesty. It brought a welcome breeze to the platform.. Whatever was in the sack the Hippogriff had brought me was starting to smell.
“First, I have the wings and head of the great eagle, predator of the skies!”
The Griffin then roared and waved a lion’s claw with talons extended. It seemed to be getting somewhat carried away. I took a step back for safety’s sake.
“Next, I have the body of the mighty lion, king of the beasts!”
The tail that looked like half a snake whipped across the stage, knocking my intended lunch out into the crowd. At least now, I hoped, I would not be expected to eat it. Politeness or no, there are certain limits even a wizard’s apprentice has to observe.
“Lastly, but no less mighty, is my serpent’s tail, powerful enough to crush the life from half the creatures of the forest.”
The Griffin paused for dramatic effect. “What does this all indicate? Yes, yes, I can feel you thinking it! Nobility. Therefore, we will add one phrase to the common speech: ‘As noble as a Griffin!’ “
The Griffin shot a look at the unicorn, who had snorted at an inappropriate moment, then turned back to the crowd.
“There, you see how easy it is? All right. Who’s next?”
The pointy-bearded fellow in the front row waved his triangular-shaped whistle. “What about Satyrs?”
“Satyrs already get maidens!” somebody insisted.
“I’m sorry,” the Griffin interjected. “Maidens were dealt with earlier on the agenda. Yes, what about Satyrs? We need a slogan to make you, too, a common, household name.”
“Say, Pop!” the Hippogriff called. “Try ‘As sly as a Satyr.’ “
The Griffin considered it. He glanced at the fellow with the pointy beard, who appeared to be frowning.
“No, no, that has some negative connotations, doesn’t it? Maybe ‘As sexy as a Satyr’?”
The pointy-bearded fellow shifted uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. “Please, we’re trying to downplay certain aspects of our image.”
“Very well,” the Griffin said impatiently. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Yes!” The fellow smiled. “I have catalogued my body parts as you did, and I’ve come up with a phrase that’s ideal!” He cleared his throat again.
“As noble as a Satyr!”
The crowd applauded enthusiastically.
“Oh. Yes. I see,” the Griffin murmured. “Well, then, ‘As noble as a Satyr’ it will be!”
The motion was passed to popular acclaim.
A mournful voice came from the audience.
“What about us Bog Womblers?”
“Bog Womblers?” the Hippogriff muttered.
“Simple, but effective!” the Griffin cried, stepping forward. “As noble as a Bog Wombler!”
The crowd went wild.
The Griffin turned to the Hippogriff. “This is not going quite as well as I had hoped. ‘Tis time for the wizard.”
It took me a second to realize that they meant me. I had quite forgotten, what with the grand sweep of oratory going on before me, that I was supposed to prepare myself for my task.
The Griffin turned to me. “Come now and prove your sorcerous skills. Spread the word about AFTAOMAIBAC to wizards throughout the world!”
“Pardon me,” I said, “but I’m not sure my magic works that way.”
The Griffin grumbled deep in its throat. It fixed me again with its eagle eye.
“I, and the collective beasts of our brotherhood, have been lenient, considering your situation, but I am afraid our patience is almost spent. It is time to make our organization known to the world!”
“If not, of course,” the Hippogriff added in a more reasonable tone, “there are those among us who would be glad to eat you.”
“Yeah!” someone called from the audience. “Waste not, want not!”
“Come now,” the Griffin reproached. “You’ve spent far too long in your preparation. ‘Tis time to prove your mettle.”
The beast turned to the throng. “Come, fellow crea- tures! Let us cheer the wizard on. Soon, every sorcerer will know our name! AFTAOMAIBAC! AFTAOMAIBAC! AFTAOMAIBAC!”
A ragged cheer arose from the crowd as they attempted to repeat the group’s name.
So I would be eaten at last. Unless—could I dare hope? There was one thing that might work. What if I contacted Norei and somehow got her to speak through me to the assemblage? I could then convince the magical beasts that I had spoken with another sorcerer. Yes! I had to talk with Norei again, anyway! It was a brilliant stroke. Maybe I would survive this after all.
I began to think of grackles.
“AFTAOMAIBAC! AFTAOMAIBAC!”
It was hard to concentrate with the cheering of the crowd. I looked at the Griffin, leading the throng. Its serpent tail whipped fearsomely back and forth in time with the cheers, as its lion’s claws ripped boards from the platform and tossed them amidst the crowd. Its eagle beak turned to regard me.
My grackle thoughts went flying aloft.
Norei! I called. Norei!
“Wuntvor? Is it you?”
I saw her below me, marching across an open field. My grackle thoughts flew swiftly to her side.
Yes, my red-haired beauty. Yes! I need your help desperately!
“Oh,” she said with a certain amount of disdain, “and about time. So you’ve finally come back to learn the fate the Netherhells have planned for your master?”
Yes, uh, and no! I admitted. You see, there’s this large group of monsters—
“Monsters? There’s no time for that now, Wuntvor. I fear the Netherhells suspect our communication. You have used this spell too openly, and too many times. I feel the demons are taking steps against us, even as we speak.”
My grackle form cried in alarm: We must talk hurriedly, then, my love. I need a sign from you, if I am to retain my life. You see, I’ve found myself captured by this convention of mythological beasts—
“Convention of what? Wuntvor! Sometimes your playfulness can be very inappropriate! Listen now to what I have to say. I fear the Netherhells will come between us, and we will never have a chance—”
My beloved screamed. I could no longer see her.
Another face swam before my eyes. A demonic face, with many, many teeth.
With a start, I realized it was Guxx Unfufadoo, the dread, rhyming demon who was the cause of my master’s malady.
“We’ve had enough of your pitiful spell,
For the time has come for your death knell!”
I heard myself scream. I blinked, and found I was back among the monsters.
“So,” the Griffin said, sharpening its claws on the remains of the stage. “When do you begin your spell?”
There was a massive explosion.
“Heads up, kiddies!” a high voice cried. “It’s Brownie time!”
The smoke set me to coughing. Through watery eyes, I saw that two things had materialized near me on the stage. One was the Brownie.
The other was the largest shoe that I had ever seen.