Free Dragon on a Pedestal by Piers Anthony Page A

magic-performing centaurs, and the other kind would not have anything to do with them. This meant, unfortunately, that Chem had a quite reasonable chance for spinsterhood, attractive though she was.
    “Oh, ouch, no!” Irene exclaimed, making a connection. “That zombie said, ‘Chem,’ instead of ‘King.’ ”
    The centaur frowned. “What’s the matter?”
    “I was looking for my husband!”
    “Aren’t we all,” Chem murmured, frowning again. But in an instant she smiled. “He’s searching southside, with Chet. I can take you to them. Grundy says Ivy’s not in this region anyway.”
    “Grundy?’ Irene asked blankly.
    “Me—Grundy the Golem,” the little creature said from the foot of a tree, insolently pretending she did not remember him. Grundy seldom did anything politely that he could do impolitely, and prided himself on being obnoxious. But he did care, and was a reliable aid in emergencies. “I came to help search. Chem’s taking me from glade to glade, and I’m asking all the local flora.” He ran to rejoin Chem, who reached down to pick him up. Grundy was so small he could sit comfortably in her hand.
    “Well, take me to Dor,” Irene said, mounting the centaur behind the golem. She had never really liked Grundy, but had to concede that he could be useful at a time like this, and it was nice of him to volunteer.
    Chem galloped south, dodging around trees and boulders and hurdling ruts. Centaurs liked to run, and they were good at it. Soon the threesome located King Dor.
    Irene rattled out her story about the fate of the Good Magician. “So I’ve got to find my daughter myself,” she concluded. She didn’t even need to ask whether Dor had found Ivy; she knew he had not. She had known at the outset of this crisis, in her heart, that only she could handle it properly. Why else had she suffered the horrible vision?
    “That doesn’t necessarily follow,” Dor said with his annoying masculine reasonableness. “Our search pattern should in due course succeed—”
    “I’m her
mother
!” Irene cried, refuting all further argument.
    The familiar look of male bafflement and resignation passed across his face. “Well, if you ride Chem, with Grundy along—”
    It hadn’t occurred to Irene to join forces more permanently with the centaur, and certainly not with the golem; but actually, that was not a bad idea, especially if it allayed Dor’s hesitancy.
    Irene glanced at Chem to see if she were amenable. She was. “Of course,” Irene agreed, as if that had been the intent from the start.
    “And take a zombie—”
    “A zombie!”
    “They know the area,” he pointed out. “And you can send it back to the castle if you get in trouble. That is, if you should need to send a message back.” He was correcting his slip; naturally, she would not be the one to get in trouble. “Then the Zombie Master will know where to send assistance.”
    “You’re not objecting to my going?” Irene asked, just to make quite sure he knew he did not.
    “Dear, I know you work best in your own way. I’ll return to Castle Roogna and consult with Crombie and check the arsenal. There should be something that will help, in case you don’t find Ivy soon. Meanwhile, with Humfrey out of business, I had better be available at home so you’ll know where to get in touch with me. There is also the matter of the forget-whorls to handle.”
    This did make some sense, she had to concede. She had anticipated more argument from him, but evidently he was learning the uselessness of that. He really would not be able to help locate Ivy from Castle Roogna, because, though Crombie the soldier’s talent lay in pointing out the direction of anything, Crombie was now so old and frail that his talent was unreliable. But with Dor safely back at Castle Roogna, she would not have to worry about anything happening to him and could concentrate completely on the immediate mission. “I’ll keep going until I find Ivy,” she promised.