Then he saw the flat-topped boulder ten yards down the hill and halted so suddenly that Matt almost bumped into him. Matt stared at the rock in surprise—and saw a lizard sunning itself. It was pointed away from them, so he couldn't really see much of its face, but he had certainly never before seen anything like the fleshy excrescence that bulged out of its head, ending in five points that glistened like polished horn. Matt stared—never before had he heard of a lizard with antlers!
Yverne gave a little moan, and Fadecourt rasped, "Be still! 'Tis a cockatrice—and woe upon us if the creature turns to show its face!"
Matt decided to keep the stare. The basilisk, or cockatrice, could turn them to stone just by looking at them. In fact, it couldn't help turning them to stone, and you couldn't blame it if it looked around every now and then to see what might be coming up behind it, in case it was threatened. Of course, it never was—at least, no longer than it took to spot the threat—though Matt supposed the occasional lizard had been lost to predators that could sneak up from behind.
Fadecourt waved them back, and as silently as possible, the companions did their best to slip behind the stunted trees available. But not quite quickly enough; a stick cracked under somebody's foot, and the little monster whipped about.
"Hide!" Fadecourt bellowed, and everybody leaped for the leaves.
Then things became very quiet.
Finally, Matt whispered, "Everybody safe?"
"Yeah," Narlh grunted nearby. Matt heaved a sigh of relief. Then he heard a stifled sob from Yverne, and Fadecourt said roughly, " 'Tis naught. I'm yet alive."
"What happened?" Matt bleated. A hiss answered him from up the road, and he throttled it down to a whisper as he peeked around his tree. "Fadecourt! What's..." Then he saw the cyclops and broke off.
"Oh, be still, Wizard!" The cyclops shook a stone fist at him. "I am not hurt! I can walk, I can fight!"
Matt swallowed and turned away. "I think the danger is clear and present. How far back do we have to go before we can find a detour?"
"We cannot." Fadecourt picked up a rock, left-handed. "This is the only road down from the heights. Stay hid till I have done." And he stepped out from behind the oak.
"Whoa!" Matt caught his shoulder. "Hold on there, boy! If that beastie spots you, we'll be taking you for granite!"
"And how can man die better?" Fadecourt challenged him. "Yet though I die, mayhap I'll clear the monster from the pathway first." He started to go, realized Matt's hand was still there, and frowned back at him. "Unhand me, Lord Matthew."
"Don't be silly; without your hands, you wouldn't stand a chance. Let's try a better way."
The cyclops turned back, glowering—and just in time; behind him, Matt caught a glimpse of the lizard starting to turn. He yanked Fadecourt back behind the trunk. "Don't look now, but our igneous iguana just turned around to see what all the fuss was about."
Fadecourt paled, but he stuck to his guns. "You spoke of a way. What way is that?"
"Uh...well..." Matt's brain kicked into high gear as he started to improvise. "Something that would appeal to the essential vanity of the beastie."
Fadecourt kept his frown. "I had not heard that they were vain."
"Neither have L" But Matt's mind had fastened on the word beastie and wasn't letting go. "Look at it this way—if a perversion of nature like that ever really had to confront itself, it wouldn't be able to bear it." He wondered why Fadecourt stared, but plowed ahead. "So let's let him have a look." He raised his voice a little, and chanted:
The air in front of the basilisk fogged up, coalescing and hardening into a gleaming disk.
Fadecourt stared. "What engine is that, Lord Matthew?"
"Why," Yverne said, " 'tis a mirror."
The cockatrice stared, wide-eyed, at its own image—and, as it stared, its greenish-gray skin became steadily less green and more gray.
"Why don't it turn away?" Narlh wondered
"Why, for that it cannot," Yverne said, with a smile of whimsy. "It is fascinated by its own image; look you—it is transfixed!"
The basilisk was almost completely gray now, and its eyes were filming over—but as much with a look of ecstasy as with silicon.
"Can it truly think it is beautiful?" Yverne wondered
"Of course," Matt murmured. "Only advanced creatures can be self-critical."
The cockatrice trembled with a single, protracted shiver, and a crinkling sound filled the clearing. Then it stood, frozen, totally gray.
"Stoned," Matt breathed. "Frozen in ecstasy."
Then he raised his hand, palm flat, and moved it in a circle as though he were wiping a hole in the frost on an invisible window.
Yverne frowned. "Why did you banish the mirror, Lord Matthew?"
"Because," Matt said, "I didn't want to leave it hanging there."
"Could we not have taken it with us?"
"Well, yes—but it might have broken."
Yverne stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, and Narlh hissed. Fadecourt nodded. "Ah. Yes, we have no need of seven years' ill fortune."
"No, we don't." Matt frowned at the frozen monster.
"Do not pity it," Fadecourt rumbled. "It had no more than it would have done to us."
Matt shook his head. "It wouldn't have meant evil—it would only have been following its nature."
The cyclops looked up, frowning. "Why, how is that?"
"The instinct to look at any threat is inborn," Matt explained. "I've seen machines that could do anything just by reacting to what people do, according to the instructions of the, ah, `wizards' who built them."
Fadecourt shuddered at the notion. "Dost'a mean these sorcerers made suits of armor live?"
"Not live, no, though you'd think it to look at them. They could even fight a warrior by automatically blocking his thrusts and cuts, so people think they were alive. But they weren't, not really—they were just following their programming." He stopped, seeing the blank, wary looks all about him, and gave it up with a sigh. "Never mind. Just take my word for it."
"Why, certes," Fadecourt said. "It is you who are the wizard."
"If you say so." Matt sighed. "But while we're on the subject, how about I turn that fist back into flesh for you?"
Fadecourt frowned, lifting the fist and gazing at it. Then he looked up at Matt with a wicked grin. "Nay, I think not—but I thank you. I have some notion it may prove of use."
"Well, it's your hand." Matt tried not to think too hard about what kind of "use" the cyclops had in mind. "Back to the immediate peril, then. Let's just make sure the spell worked." He caught up a stick and pitched it at the little monster. Fadecourt and Yverne gave yelps of dread, but the cockatrice only tipped over onto its side and lay frozen, legs holding their poses in the air.
"Yeah, it's safe," Narlh opined.
"Well, you're the reptile—at least partly." Matt looked up, frowning—the dracogriff had sounded shaken. "What's the matter—genus loyalty?"
"Loyalty, my tail! No way, Wizard! Why would I be loyal to a jinni? It's just...well..." Narlh took a breath. "Do you have any idea how dangerous those beasties are?"
"Well, I've heard something about them, yeah."