"One more trip should do it" said Guybrush as their little group finished stowing away their provisions and began the return trip to Puerto Pollo. Having the Sea Cucumber moored in Danjer Cove was becoming somewhat inconvenient now that her crew had to trek halfway across the island to load her for the journey to Myth Island. But at least the actual hauling was light work, since there were so many of them to share the task. Almost all of the normal provisions were already loaded, such as food, water, and a large barrel of tar that Haggis had insisted they take along (Chariset had given him an odd look when he chuckled at that), so this last trip was just to gather up personal belongings and say their goodbyes.
He couldn't have been more eager to be gone--he'd seen quite enough of Plunder Island in the last six months he'd spent there since he married Elaine (it still hurt to think about her, so he tried not to). But they'd been delayed almost a week since he'd been freed from the ice-block by a large storm over Plunder, and it gave him more opportunity to speculate about what might have happened to the woman he loved than he really wanted or needed. He'd spent his days with Chari or Murray, buying supplies, or doing odd jobs for the Barbery trio, but there was nothing to occupy the long, lonely nights. He needed to get out on the sea again and do something.
Guybrush and Chariset were in the backroom packing up the extra clothes the barbery three had found for them when they heard Haggis remark "Now that's strange."
"What's strange, Haggis?" he asked.
"Thar's an entire fleet of ships coming inta the harbor" came the puzzled reply. "And I don' recognize the flag that they're flyin'."
Chari's head came up sharply at that--they turned as one and hurried to the front window.
The window offered a panoramic view of Plunder's deep natural harbor--and from sandbar to sandbar the horizon was a solid white mass of sails. He heard Chari's gasp at the sight; there must have been thirty warships all in a row, preceded by three smaller vessels. One of them was unmistakably the Seahorse.
"It's the Governor's navy" she said at last, pointing out the red banners with three golden fleur-de-lis flowers running across them. "But how in the world did they get here so fast?"
Guybrush squinted at the third ship in the honored trio. "I've got a better question--whose flag is the Seahorse flying?"
She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered. The odd black flag flared to life in a sudden wind and she dropped her hand in shock. "That's...that's Horace Deadeyes' flag!" The figure of a man's face with black circles for eyes was clearly visible. Her expression changed from shock to anger. "Why that little...he's brought the entire navy over from Scabb Island--where it's really needed--and he's claimed my ship!"
"He wouldn't have time to bring the navy over in a week," Guybrush pointed out. "They must have been coming over to see what happened with..Governor Marley."
"..Governor Threepwood," she corrected softly. "Right, that must be it. But I'm still getting my ship back."
The Seahorse and the two others docked, while the others formed a blockade across the mouth of the bay. A chill ran down his spine when he realized that they were placed there so that nothing could leave the island. And Chariset, with her feminine intuition, was looking a bit worried as well. When Horace--in a Captain's coat, no less--came striding up the docks flanked by two large officers and an armed guard, she seemed to have changed her mind about demanding the Seahorse back.
"Guybrush..I have a bad feeling about this.."
Get yourselves out of sight, said his instincts. "Quick, into the back room. We'll hide until we know what's going on." They ducked through the doorway, staying low, and pressed their ears against the dividing wall.
The men must have chosen the barber shop at their first port-of-call, since not long after they heard heavy boots tramping on the floor. They heard a sharp snap as some sort of poster was dramatically unrolled.
"We're looking for this woman," said a male voice imperiously. It could only be Deadeyes. "Have you seen her?"
"Nice looking lass," commented Haggis' voice. "But we haven' seen anyone like that around here."
"Are you sure? Look closer.." More bootsteps. "I have five thousand pieces of eight that'll make it worth your while..."
"Ye can keep yer money..we haven't seen 'er," replied Haggis stoutly. "But just out of curiosity, what'd the lass do?"
The male voice took on a 'well, if you want to play it that way' tone. "She's a renegade Captain and a traitor to the Governor's navy. She subverted over half of my crew to join her in a pirate ship and seek out an occult sorcerer." Guybrush glanced at Chari and saw her turning white as she realized that they meant her.
Another voice. "We believe she may have been responsible for the disappearance and presumed death of the Governor and her husband. We have orders to arrest her and bring her to trial on Phatt Island."
Deadeyes again. "Now..for six thousand pieces of eight...do you know where we might find this woman?"
"Six thousand.."he heard Bill murmur. Beside him, Chari tensed.
"I'm sorry..we haven't seen 'er." Haggis' tone was final.
The bootsteps receded, and she sank against the wall, looking wild-eyed and desperate. His heart went out to her.
"Chari, we'll have to run, get out to the ship and make a run for it.."
"..what about the barbers? We can't just leave them."
"They'll be safe. You can't stay here. Governor Phatt won't let you live.."
"..there's got to be some other way, Guybrush.."
"You'll only get yourself arrested. If Bill doesn't, Kenny'll turn you in..."
A sigh. "Okay, let's do it.."
They fled
into the jungle like common criminals, packing their luggage on their backs,
running for their lives. Behind them, somewhere back in town, a red-headed
boy was saying "I'll tell you..if you'll buy some of my watermelon.."
A week passed at sea, then two. It was obvious to Guybrush that being branded a criminal and a traitor was taking its toll on his sister, despite the fact that her crew were taking to their new status as "outlaws" with amusement and high spirits. She told him that it was more than just the loss of her good name, that she'd never suspected Horace would betray her and that it bothered her to so completely misjudge someone. But he knew that the loss of her reputation did bother her, whatever she said, since she'd worked at being a good Captain almost as long as he'd worked at being a pirate. He privately swore that he and Elaine, when all of this was over, would clear her name of Deadeyes' false charges.
At last, however, they finally saw their destination, and she completely forgot her purple funk momentarily at their first sight of Myth Island. Mouths (and one bone jaw) were dropping open all over the ship as their owners took in the elegant diamond-shaped island with a sloping, graceful hill in its center, and, most of all, the glistening white Greek temple that stood prominently on its west slope. With its white pillars and triangular roof, it looked like an ornate hair ornament for the flowing green tresses of the island.
They circled the island on the temple side, admiring the huge garden that surrounded it, but unfortunately the only port was on the other side of the island. There they found another small town that reminded him faintly of Puerto Pollo, with more brilliantly white-washed walls and colorful tile roofs. The streets were white cobblestone and spotlessly clean.
"You have no idea how bright this looks compared to Sable Island," spoke up Nic for the entire crew.
The island was divided lengthwise down the diamond shape into two unequal halves by the hill. The town and its small grove of outbuildings and cemetery occupied one half, while the temple and its garden had the other. On a low spit of land extending outward from the foremost point of the diamond was a stubby lighthouse. Upon docking the Sea Cucumber, they saw a wide avenue running directly into town from the harbor, lined with small shops and a small café.
Fees were paid and the ship was locked up tight, then Chariset, who was still acting Captain, dismissed her restless crew for a few days shore leave. One or two of them offered to take Murray along with them (inexplicably, they liked the demonic skull), but he elected to remain with Guybrush and Chariset.
"So where to?" he asked as she settled Murray comfortably under one arm.
"The temple," she said immediately, as he'd thought she might. Chari seemed more at ease than she had in some time, perhaps because she had also needed to be doing something, or perhaps because adventuring was becoming more familiar to her. She even laughed when people did double-takes at the demonic skull she was carrying through a crowded town--once or twice they flinched away with wide-eyes and whispered nervously to their companions as Murray scowled frighteningly at them. He was enjoying himself too. Guybrush was just relieved that he had abandoned (for now) his obsession for revenge. Even the long climb over Myth Island's hill was bearable (the view was worth all the effort it took). Something about the flowering hedges and the temple with the blue sea as a backdrop was indescribably beautiful and he and Chariset frequently stumbled as they forgot to watch their footing.
The main path into the complex was guarded by a gate set in the hedge-wall, and a short, plump little man in a toga who was evidently trying to hide his baldness with a laurel wreath blocked their way with a spear. "Ah, students.." he muttered with minimal enthusiasm. "Welcome to New Athens," he said in a louder voice but without much warmth. "Do you come to seek instruction in the arts, or do you merely wish to worship?"
"We seek the Mask of Medusa" spoke up Chari from behind Guybrush. The man's eyes narrowed as she approached, and he realized that the man must be somewhat near-sighted.
"I'm sorry, we are not accepting women as students at this time," monotoned the man. Or ever, his tone implied. "Not after that last one. And I have no idea what..mask you're talking about." He dismissed her entirely as unworthy of his attention. "And as for you, if you wish to join our community, you must be properly attired," he scolded Guybrush.
Chariset was frowning darkly. "But what's proper attire?" asked the pirate.
"A toga. Come back in a proper Greek toga and then we'll talk."
A toga? Where in the world was he going to find a toga?? His dismay must have been plain to see, because it actually seemed to lighten his sister's mood. The sentry had already returned to whatever mystical contemplation he'd been drowning in.
"I have
an idea about that," she said, smiling mysteriously. "Let's go see what
we can find in town."
"What do you suppose he meant by "that last one"?" she asked as they meandered back into town on a paved trail. The route took them past the small cemetery and into town the back way, but it was easier on their legs than the trail over the hill.
"Some other woman student, I guess," he replied absent-mindedly, more concerned over how to get a toga.
"I wonder if she's still in town.." mused Chari. "It sounded like he was trying to avoid the whole mask topic..."
"..mmhmm.."
"..maybe she'd know something about it."
"Can't hurt to look," he agreed, heading for that wide avenue of shops leading from the docks.
The shops all had wide signboards hanging above or near their doors, generally just pictures depicting what was for sale there. One or two were general merchandise, one was a bakery with a neighboring butcher's shop, two were inns, and the rest appeared to be moreso. He was just about to suggest that they split up and investigate individually when a tiny shop at the end of the block caught his eye. A paintbrush and palette were depicted on the signboard, but underneath them was "Myth Island Painting and Supplies" in graceful blue letters. By unspoken agreement, they both turned and walked over to investigate.
Inside was just as tiny as the outside--a desk that seemed to be proportioned for a child stood against one wall, complete with an equally small chair. The windows were so small that Guybrush felt certain he could put them in his pockets with room to spare (okay, he could put most things in his pockets with room to spare, but you get the point). And the ceiling was so low that he felt a touch claustrophobic. A small, arched doorway, half-blocked by a curtain, led into another small room that appeared to contain an equally small kitchen. On the desk sat a small placard that named the proprietor as "Hollander C. Feed."
"Reminds me of that dollhouse of yours," Chariset commented.
"That was your dollhouse, Setti."
"Then why were you always the one playing with it, Guyber?"
This had degenerated into the war of the childhood nicknames. "Technically, it's yours."
She never missed a beat. "Practically, it's yours."
Hands on hips. "And do you know what'll happen to my reputation as a mighty pirate if that gets out?"
She crossed her arms across her chest and arched an eyebrow. "Oh, unlike the wonders it does to mine when you tell everyone I played with dolls."
"At least--"
That was as far as their argument got, because a female voice interrupted them. "I'm sorry...I'll be with you in a minute."
Guybrush and Chariset grinned a truce at each other and surveyed the room. The small walls were covered with small paintings, painted ceramic figures on shelves, and, covering one whole side, masks. They were mostly wooden or (shudder) porcelain, with bright painted surfaces and occasionally bits of glass for eyes. It was obvious that Hollander plied her trade from right here in the front room, since the desk was cluttered with paints, brushes, and sketches.
Then Hollander herself appeared, and Guybrush caught himself staring. She was a petite redhead, standing perhaps half as tall as Chariset, with close-cut hair and dark eyes. But more than that, she bore a startling resemblance to..
"Wally!" The tiny woman stopped short, startled, and Guybrush regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry, but you look just like someone I know."
She recovered her composure. "A cartographer, right? Wally B. Feed? Used to have a shop on Scabb Island...that is, until that Threepwood got ahold of him." Hollander spat out the name like a curse, and Chari shot him a look that said "What did you do?" "I'm Holly, by the way. What's your name?"
"Uhh.." he looked at his sister in mute appeal.
She stepped in and saved him. "I'm Chariset, and this is my brother Guybrush." He held his breath, but that didn't seem to register with Holly. "What do you know about New Athens?"
"Ha! What do you want to know about them?" Holly was apparently a person of strong opinions. "They're a reclusive, exclusive lot of free-booters. Have nothing to do with them."
"Then you wouldn't know..how to enroll at their school?"ventured Guybrush, trying to do his part.
That hit home. "I know plenty about that school. It's not worth your time" said Holly bitterly.
"We've been there," said Chari gently. "They weren't exactly...reasonable."
The girl snorted. "I'll bet."
"But they have something we need," she continued. "If only we could find someone who'd been inside and could give us some help."
Holly seemed to be of a helpful sort. "I was there...once."
"What happened?" asked Guybrush sympathetically.
"There was an accident.." Holly looked down. "A special artifact got broken. A mask that was sacred to them."
Guybrush drew in a sharp breath, disappointed. Next to him, Chari did the same. Holly blinked at them in confusion. "What?"
"I think that mask was what we were looking for," admitted Chariset finally. "We're looking for an object called the Mask of Medusa."
"That was it, then," the redhead nodded, looking bleak. "There's nothing left of it but the two eye-stones.
"Then how am I going to destroy LeChuck and save Elaine?" Guybrush blurted out, feeling despair creeping up on him.
That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Several emotions came together in Holly's eyes, then she sprang up and backed away as though she'd seen a ghost, almost literally unable to speak. "Good God!" she cried finally. "You're that Guybrush?!!" He opened his mouth to explain, but she had a wild look on her face--scanning the room for a weapon, she finally seized a sharp awl and advanced on him with it. "Get out! Get out!!" She lunged forward on her short legs, wielding the awl with deadly intent. "You murderer!" she snarled. "Where's my brother now? I suppose you came for me now, too." Guybrush, who was no fool, was backing towards the door, but she continued to advance on him. She swiped empty air twice with the wicked little point as twice he narrowly evaded her.
Then suddenly Chariset interposed herself between his fierce little attacker and himself, sword drawn. "Stop," she said, voice hard. "We are not your enemy."
"Like hell!" Holly's voice was shrill as she stabbed at Chari, but his sister parried the wild attacks with ease. Panting, she finally subsided, though she continued to glare with unabated fury.
"Listen to me. Guybrush is not the one who kidnaped your brother. The Zombie Pirate LeChuck came after him and Wally just happened to be in the way. My brother never meant for it to happen. He put himself in danger trying to rescue your brother and he nearly succeeded."
"He left him there to die!"
"He had no choice. But Wally would never have been there in the first place if LeChuck hadn't kidnaped him."
"He would never have been kidnaped if it hadn't been for you, Threepwood, and those four map pieces," Holly continued with venom in Guybrush's direction.
Chariset sighed. "Perhaps so," she admitted. "But Guybrush didn't know he was putting Wally in danger. LeChuck most certainly did know, and he kidnaped your brother a second time when he managed to escape from his ship."
Holly's eyes widened at that. "I didn't know that part.." she mumbled.
"LeChuck's hurt us all," she concluded. "But if you'll help us, Holly, Guybrush and I will challenge LeChuck, and this time we'll beat him, once and for all. And while we're at it, we're going to free everyone that LeChuck's captured, including Wally."
She had spoken with enough fierce enthusiasm in her voice to win Holly over. "Okay. But he stays outside."
"That seems only fair," she agreed, and Guybrush took himself out the door, pausing just outside so he could listen in.
"What do you know about the Mask of Medusa?" he asked softly. Chari relayed the question.
"It's just a mask," came the reply. "The real power is in the two gems that go in its eyes."
"And those gems are still all right, after the accident?"
"Sure. They just need a new mask. But after the accident, the elders won't let me try again. They don't trust me."
"Suppose we got the jewels somehow. Could you make a new mask and set them in place?" suggested Guybrush.
Holly laughed. "Sure, I guess. But you wouldn't be able to get them. The elders have set them in an idol of Athena and they worship her...they'll never part with them."
"Can you make us a mask for them?" asked Chariset.
"I've got a blank mask-form that should work, but it's unpainted. And I don't have time to work on it myself--you'll have to paint it on your own."
"I have a better idea," Guybrush put it. "I'll go to the temple and see about borrowing the stones for a while," a snort from Holly punctuated that, "while Chari stays here and paints the mask."
His sister nodded. "I can paint decently well, and we can pay you for the mask and supplies. And even if Guybrush doesn't get the jewels, we'll still pay you. Sound fair enough?"
That was acceptable. "Now what do I do about a toga?" mused Guybrush.
To his surprise, Holly chipped in. "I have a whole lot of thin canvas for painting--you can borrow that. You'll just need something to tie it with."
"And there's some cord in the Sea Cucumber that no one's using. Why don't you take Murray and see what you can come up with?" suggested his sister.
The demonic
skull had been so quiet that Guybrush had forgotten he was there. "Okay,
we'll see what we can do," he promised, and left the two girls to their
work.
About half and hour later, Murray impatiently paced (well, rolled) back and forth on the deck, waiting for Guybrush to emerge from the Captain's cabin where he'd hidden himself. "Are you done yet?" he asked for the tenth time.
"Almost, Murray," answered Guybrush for the eighth time. "I feel so naked in this thing!"
Then the door opened, and the mighty be-toga'd pirate emerged, walking stiffly and looking quite ridiculous. If Murray hadn't already been dead, he'd have died of laughter.
"All right, all right, Murray," said Guybrush irritably after the third straight minute of laughter.
"Heheha..oh, I'm sorry.. But if you could only see yourself..." he dissolved again into demonic hilarity.
Guybrush in a toga was really something that had to be seen to be believed, but essentially he was all long, skinny limbs and knobby joints surrounded by a wadded-up mass of white cloth. After a while, Murray got enough control of himself to call out helpful instructions. A tug here, a readjustment of the belt there, and Guybrush began to look a little more noble and a little less comical.
"I don't think Grecians wear earrings," the skull hinted. Guybrush looked rebellious but gave in and removed the small gold ring from his left ear. "And that ponytail has got to go."
"I'm not cutting off my ponytail," came the adamant reply.
"Take it out, then."
"Murray..you don't know what you're asking."
"Trust me on this. They're not going to take a kid in a ponytail seriously."
Guybrush gave a long-suffering sigh. "Okay...but you'll be sorry." He reached back and untied the small black cord binding up his long hair. It remained in place for a moment, then a gust of wind caught it and fluffed the entire mass into a yellow halo around his face. Murray fought to keep from laughing, whilst the mighty pirate simply looked much-abused.
"Come
on, then," he growled, taking the skull under his arm and walking, a skinny,
barefoot, comic-figure with a yellow mane, through the heart of town, wondering
if revenge was really worth it.
Apparently the gatekeeper was more used to seeing men in outdated white robes carrying skulls, since he admitted them without a challenge. Guybrush threaded his way through several rows of hedges, stepping on the occasional thorn ("Ah, papapisshu!"), but finally he was able to set his sore feet down on the cool marble of the temple floor itself. He walked through a double-row colonnade of columns like a small forest of white trees, each casting a long shadow into the darker room within. They were several times taller than he was, and so large that he would never have been able to encircle them with his arms. He was beginning to feel very small indeed.
The temple's interior was a long, rectangular room, echoingly large and empty. It was encircled by more of the colossal columns on three sides, but the fourth was solid. More columns formed two long, open rows down a central aisle to the altar at the far end. They echoed back the unfamiliar rustle of his garments in sibilant whispers as he walked towards the fourth wall.
The exterior of the temple had been carved in beautiful bas reliefs wherever there was a flat surface, but inside there was no statuary at all except for the lovely goddess facing him in front of the fourth wall. She was proportioned so realistically that he was very close to her before he realized that she stood almost twice as tall as he did. She was posed with both hands held out before her, as though offering a gift to the worshiper, but she also wore armor and held a spear between her side and her right arm. A shield was leaning against her left leg.
Her hands were the most interesting part about her, and not merely because they were exceptionally graceful and lovely hands. Resting on the ring finger of each was a blue gem, large enough even on those hands to look like fitting jewelry. Once again Guybrush was reminded of Elaine, and he swallowed hard.
"Lovely.." Murray said softly. Guybrush wondered what appealed to a demonic, undead skull. Personally, he pondered who might have been the human model for this exceptionally striking statue.
"You like her? You come to worship her?"
The grating voice broke into his thoughts like a stone into water, scattering everything. But the man who had interrupted his musings was just as outstanding as Athena, in a different fashion. For one, he had an impressively long white beard, for two, he wore his toga cut very, very short.
"Herman Toothrot?" Guybrush could hardly believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Philosophy knows no bounds, my son. The wings of learning bore me here to enlighten new generations."
He was trying to sound mysterious but was failing altogether. At the moment, though, he was familiar company. "I thought you were still teaching Eastern mysticism on Dinky Island."
"Naw. Left there when the water got too cold to surf." He showed yellow teeth in a brief grin. "And no one since you has been able to answer my coan."
Huh? "Oh..right...what color is the tree?"
"It's discouraging when no one gets enlightened." Herman's pale blue eyes seemed to be looking in two different directions at once, and they blinked so rarely that Guybrush's own eyes were beginning to water in sympathy. "Well, I'm going now."
"Wait!" He put a hand out to try to hold the old man back, but he was already gone.
"Strange character," commented Murray.
"You have no idea.."
"The answer is 'all colors,' by the way."
"You've heard it before?" This was a side of the skull he'd never seen before.
"Once, yes. But here comes your friend again." Herman was indeed making his barelegged shuffle across the floor towards them.
"Herman, I need to borrow those two stones," Guybrush said before the man could get away again. A few other white-clad figures within earshot perked up.
The eccentric (not to say insane) philosopher looked at him with the closest expression to reason he had ever seen. "Do not mess with the sacred, my boy!" He shook a bony finger at them. "You can have them only when you replace kind with kind!"
"So what does that mean, exactly?" persisted Guybrush.
Herman continued to look serious. "Those stones have the power of the gods behind them. The people here worship them. If you can find them something else to worship, then you can have the stones."
Quite a small crowd was forming around them now--the familiar free-thinker confronting the kid with the skull--but no one stepped in on either side. They seemed to be waiting for the next shot in this verbal volley.
Perhaps a dozen thoughts flickered through Guybrush's mind at that point, but the only one that stuck was I wonder how Murray would like being a god. Without consulting his evil companion, he held him aloft like something holy and intoned grandly "Then behold Him. Murray. The emissary of Death himself!"
The emissary of Death himself currently had a completely blank and startled look on his face, but showmanship took over. "Yes! I come from the hellish blackness of Hades itself! I can read your souls. I know your futures! Come and serve me, and perhaps I will ask my Master to spare your lives for another year."
The expressions on the crowd before Guybrush were really quite amusing--some backed away, some sank to their knees, and a few turned gray and looked like they might be about to faint. But one or two looked skeptical, Herman among them.
"There is nothing in your pitiful mortal world that I cannot answer," Murray declared. Being undead, Guybrush reflected, this was probably true. "Ask me anything!"
"If a tree falls in the woods--" began Toothrot.
"--all colors!" the skull finished.
Several of the younger students actually trembled when they saw their teacher stop and stare at the skull in wide-eyed respect. "What do you wish of us?" asked one timidly.
"I must have the place of honor in your temple," the skull began. "You must serve me and bring me whatever I desire." There were humble nods all around. "And you must grant to my servant whatever he asks of you."
And thus it was that, a few minutes later, Murray sat cradled in the hands of the Athena statue, holding court. The mighty pirate stood next to him, reverently holding the two sacred stones in his hands.
"'My servant'?" whispered Guybrush.
"Hey, it was the best I could come up with."
"Is all this power going to go to your head?" This was a point he hadn't considered before he made Murray a god. He was beginning to wish he had, now.
"Mwahahahaha." Strangely, however, that was reassuring--the skull had been behaving himself so well lately that he had almost lost his endearingly evil side.
"Well,
don't take over the whole Caribbean,"Guybrush cautioned and took his leave
of the newly-crowned emissary of Death. Halfway back to town, he realized
that he was going to miss Murray's company.
Holly almost literally fell off her chair when he re-appeared (back in proper piratey garb) with the blue stones. "That's...how...how did you do that?"
Ah, such an opportunity to tell a good story--and he didn't have time to do it justice. "I made a friend a god and they gave me the stones in exchange." Holly looked blank but finally just nodded and accepted it, while Chari's expression promised a lively conversation once they were safely alone aboard the ship. "Anyway, here they are. Is the mask finished?"
"I think so--the varnish was drying a few minutes ago." Chariset experimentally touched a small wooden object on the table before her; once she was satisfied that it was dry, she picked it up. It was a woman's face, half-black, half-light cream, with a stylized sun-circle in the center of her forehead and very red painted lips. Her eyes were outlined Egyptian fashion--black on the cream side, cream on the black side.
"Is that how it's supposed to look?" queried Guybrush.
"The actual design doesn't matter, so long as it's painted," Holly informed him. "And so long as the stones are there, of course."
Guybrush turned over the two gems to Wally's sister, who set them into place with a jeweler's precision. She gave the mask an experimental shake to be sure they would stay, then handed the thing to him. "There ya go. Kick his zombie butt."
"We will," replied Chariset with feeling.
"Wait a minute...how does this mask work?" They really had no clue how to use the thing.
"Oh, right." Apparently Holly had forgotten to mention this. "Just look through the eyes at whatever you want to stone."
Chariset and Guybrush exchanged looks, then he raised the mask to his face and directed his gaze on a small plant near the door. Everything looked blue through the jewels, but there was a distinct sparkle around the thing. Holly and Chari gasped and he looked up at them quickly (remembering to take the mask off just in time). The plant was solid stone.
"It works!" he said unnecessarily, just as Holly said "Oh, thanks! That was my favorite plant!"
"Wait a second," put in his sister. She removed her heavy necklace--the Necromancer's amulet that had saved his life--and touched it to a stone leaf for a moment. There was a faint flicker and the plant was restored. "Good to know it can be reversed," she said quietly. "But let's not use it on any people unless we have to."
"Except LeChuck," he said, tucking it carefully into his sash."
"Except LeChuck," she agreed. "And thank you for all your help, Holly."
"Look,
you're okay, Chari. But don't think that just because I helped you,
I like you, Threepwood." Apparently Guybrush wasn't worthy of a
first name. "And if you ever come back here again, you better do it with
my brother in tow," finished the red-haired girl darkly, turning her back
on the both of them in a clear dismissal.
"Whew!" said Chari once they were out of the shop and out of hearing. "Heaven..or Hell..help LeChuck if she ever decides to go after him personally."
"That's our job," he reminded her. "And speaking of that, it's time."
Chari, stout-hearted though she was, looked a bit nervous. But all she said was, "We've got a chance to get rid of evil. We'd be fools not to do it."
"Are you afraid?"
"Yes, a little." She sighed. "But I'm still going to do it."
"I think that's how we all feel about adventures. You'll get used to it eventually."
She shook her head, and he had the feeling that he'd missed the point, but she wouldn't say anything more. "What happened to Murray?"
That startled a chuckle out of him. "He's being worshiped as a god in New Athens," he told her.
Her eyes widened. "He never did do anything halfway, did he?"
"Heh...no."
"Well, in that case, let's call in the men and get out of here," she declared boldly, hands on hips.
Guybrush played along. "To LeChuck's fortress!" He gestured grandly.
"To Monkey Island!" Then she paused. "Guybrush...do we know how to get to Monkey Island?"
"I do. But you have to promise to come wake me up after we get there."
"What?!"
It would take far too long to explain. "You'll see. Right now we need to do some shopping. How much gunpowder d'you suppose we have?"
He rather
enjoyed her puzzled silence as they headed for the nearest grocery store.