Cordelia screamed, and Gregory shouted, "Brothers, aid me!"
Magnus and Geoffrey dove in with a will, Magnus throwing his arms around Cordelia from behind in a bear hug, Geoffrey sailing in at the back of her knees in a perfect tackle. Cordelia slammed down, and Magnus fell with her, but her shoes kept striking about wildly, trying to continue their dance. Geoffrey struggled out from under and yanked at the slippers.
"Leave off! Leave off!" the harridan shrieked, swatting at him. " 'Tis my catch!"
"Nay, 'tis my sister!" Geoffrey whirled, scarlet with rage, unleashing a glare at the fat woman. She staggered back screeching, as though a football halfback had slammed into her, and Geoffrey's lip curled as he turned back and with a violent jerk pulled one of the slippers off.
"Ow!" Cordelia cried. "Gently, brother! 'Tis not a block of wood thou dost hold!"
"Pardon, sister, but there's small time for gentleness." Geoffrey yanked the other shoe off.
Another net swooped down around him, gathering all four of them into a churning mass, and the overblown woman howled with glee as she heaved at Magnus, rolling him over Cordelia into a hempen cocoon. "Wouldst thou strike at a woman, then? Vile, unmannered brats! I have thee now!"
"What art thou?" Magnus cried, finally ready for the next danger on the list; but the woman giggled, "Only a poor spinster, lad; and call me Arachne, for I've caught thee in my web!"
Geoffrey managed to draw his dagger with his left hand and started sawing at the ropes. Magnus realized he had to keep Arachne's attention. " 'Twas thou didst craft these shoes!"
"Nay! I may be wicked in my way, child, yet I'm not a witch! I found the shoes, hard by a music-rock. And well they've served me—for they held this little beauty till my net could settle over her!"
"And what wilt thou do with her?" Magnus tried to sound as though dread were hollowing him.
"Why, sell her, lad, for gold!" Arachne replied. "I know a fine gentleman, who dwells not far off within a cave, and who will come out this night to give me gold for her. I've sold him girls before, and I doubt not he will wish to have her. Nay, I wot that he may give me more gold for each of thee, though thou art lads!"
"Buy us?" Geoffrey protested, scandalized. "I shall not be a slave!"
"Nay, thou shalt!" Arachne crowed. "And thou shalt do whatever he doth wish thee to do! Now—wilt thou suffer thyselves to be bound and hobbled, and walk before me? Or must I knock a rock upon thy pate, and drag thee thither?"
"Strike me an thou canst!" Geoffrey cried, surging up out of a long rent in the net with his dagger stabbing out. Arachne shrieked and leaped back. Then she clamped her jaw and lifted a huge, knobby cane, swinging it up.
A great black horse seemed to rise up out of the ground behind her, rearing up.
Geoffrey grinned, and pointed over her shoulder. "Beware!"
"Dost thou think me a bairn, to be caught with so ancient a ruse?" Arachne spat, just before a steel hoof cracked into her head. A stunned look came over her face; then her eyes rolled up, and she slumped to the ground.
"Aye," Geoffrey answered her, then looked up at Fess. "Many thanks, old ruse. How ancient art thou?"
"Five hundred thirty-one years, ten months, three days, four hours, and fifty-one minutes, Geoffrey."
"Yet who doth count?" Magnus murmured as he fought his way loose of the net.
"Terran standard, of course," Fess added.
Geoffrey nudged Arachne with a toe. "Mayhap we should bind her?"
"Do, with her own net," Magnus agreed. Geoffrey nodded and knelt to start packaging the harridan while Magnus turned to peel the other net off Cordelia. She sat up with a shaky moan. "I thank thee, brothers. Tis long since I have been so frighted."
"She left the shoes as bait for her trap," Gregory informed her.
"I believe I might have guessed that, brother."
Geoffrey shrugged. "Guessed or not, thou wert snared."
"Oh, 'twas I alone, was't?"
"Your brothers were caught because they sought to aid you, Cordelia," Fess reminded her.
She hung her head. "Aye, I know. Oh, brothers! I was so afeard thou wouldst be trapped because of me!"
"Aye, yet 'twas we caught the trapper." Magnus squeezed her around the shoulders. "We could not allow her to harm our fair only sister, could we?"
"Nay!" Geoffrey's brows drew down, hiding his eyes. "None may touch thee whiles we live! For thou art our sister!"
"As thou art my brother." Cordelia leaped forward and caught Geoffrey in a bear hug, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. He shrank back with a cry of dismay, but she only beamed at him. "And none shall touch thee without my leave!"
If this boded ill for all their future courtships, Fess alone took note of it. However, he only said, "Perhaps it is time to rejoin your parents, children."
They whirled on him, dismayed, erupting into a chorus of frantic denials. "There is no danger, Fess!"
"We are more than equal to any peril!"
" 'Tis not even twilight yet!"
"We have not found the information we seek!"
"I would say we have found ample data," Fess contradicted. "We now need time to sift it, organize it, and deduce its implications."
'Ample, mayhap, yet not complete!" Gregory's chin jutted. "Wouldst thou have us build hypotheses when we've less than full evidence?"
Fess stood still and silent.
"And there is that other poor lass!" Cordelia said.
The robot-horse's head turned to her. "Which other juvenile female?"
"The one that Arachne hath already sold to the man in the cave! Are we to turn our backs upon her?"
"Nay!" Geoffrey cried. "We must free her!"
"There could be danger there, children," Fess said slowly.
"Pooh! From one mere man, 'gainst four witch-children? Yet an he doth prove more puissant than we expect, thou mayest step in and smite him!"
"Provided I do not have a seizure…"
"There's small enough chance of that," Magnus said quickly, ever alert for egos needing bolstering. "Yet there's smaller chance of need of thy strong hoof."
"An thou dost doubt," Gregory suggested, "ask Papa."
Fess heaved a burst of static. "Very well, I shall contact him." He turned toward the northeast, opening his mouth to form a parabolic dish, and shifted to radio frequency. Rod. Father Warlock—this is Fess. Tutor to progenitor—come in, Rod.
Receiving. Rod's signal was weak; the transmitter imbedded in his maxillary was broadcast, not directional.
We have encountered a potentially dangerous situation, Rod. It could imperil the children.
I doubt it, Rod answered. Still, it must be one hell of a situation, to give you pause.
No, only hooves.
Are you developing a sense of humor? If you are, I'll have to see about having it upgraded.
Certainly not. Purely coincidental, I assure you. Fess was suddenly aware of having been caught in an error, which caused a logic-loop almost equivalent to an emotion. It was simply a failure to distinguish between homonyms; I experienced a delay in interpreting contextual references. I assure you it will not happen again.
Oh, I don't mind. Just be a little more deft, will you?
Unwittingly, Rod had given Fess a directive. The robot's memory adjusted his program accordingly; Fess would now, obediently, make every pun he could—except the really bad ones, if he could distinguish them. Executed. Which is how you may wish to treat the woman the children have just vanquished.