Free Night Mare by Piers Anthony Page B

time to get recombobulated.
    There might be the answer! All Imbri had to do was make the giants show themselves, then advance on them. Maybe.
    “I’m going to try something risky,” Imbri projected to Chameleon. Her dreamlet showed herself charging directly at a horrendous ghost. “Would you like me to set you down outside the megaliths, where it is safe?”
    Chameleon was frightened but firm. “It’s not safe. The centycore is there. Maybe he’s gotten unstuck from the column. I will stay with you.”
    Good enough. “Now we must provoke the ghost-giants into showing themselves. When they do, you must act terrified.”
    A touch of humor penetrated the woman’s naiveté. “I will.”
    Imbri nerved herself and took a step forward. There was an immediate warning groan. She projected a dream to the vicinity of the sound. “You’re pretty bold, hiding behind big stones,” her dream image said with an expression of contempt. “You wouldn’t scare anyone if you were visible.”
    “Oh, yeah?” the sprig she bad addressed responded. “Look at this, mare!”
    The ghost took form before her. He was the size of a man, but his arms were huge and hairy, and his face was dominated by two upcurving tusks. “Groooaan!” he groaned.
    Chameleon shrieked in presumably simulated terror. But Imbri moved directly toward the ghost.
    The sprig, startled, shrank to the size of a midget. Then, catching itself, it expanded to the size of a giant. “Booooo!” it boooooed, shoving at a ceiling stone. The stone budged, sending down a warning shower of sand. Chameleon screamed again. It seemed she didn’t like sand in her hair.
    But as the mare neared the ghost, the sprig jumped out of the way, avoiding contact. They passed right through, and Imbri knew she and Chameleon had penetrated well in toward the castle.
    There was another invisible groan, from another sprig. Imbri charged it, though another column was crumbling. Her ploy worked; the column crashed the other way, not striking her. The ghosts never pulled columns down upon themselves; thus where the spriggan stood was the safest place to be, despite the scary noises they made. All she had to do was keep charging them, and she would be safe.
    It worked. Columns and ceiling stones tumbled all around her, but Imbri navigated from the groan to groan and threaded the dangerous maze successfully.
    Abruptly they were inside the castle proper.

 
    Chapter 4. Forging the Chain
     
     
    “W ell, hello Chameleon!” the Gorgon said. She was a mature, almost overmature woman, whose impressive proportions were verging on obesity. Life had evidently been too kind to her. Her face was invisible, so that there was no danger from her glance. “And the mare Imbrium, too! Do come in and relax.”
    “We are here to see Good Magician Humfrey,” Chameleon said. “King Trent sent us.”
    “Of course he did, dear,” the Gorgon agreed. “We have been expecting you.”
    Chameleon blinked. “But you tried stop us!”
    “It’s just Humfrey’s way. He’s such a dear, but he does have his little foibles. Those creatures wouldn’t really have hurt you.”
    Imbri snorted. She was not at all sure of that!
    “You both must be hungry,” the Gorgon continued blithely. “We have milk and honey and alfalfa and oats in any combination you two may desire.”
    “Milk and oats,” Chameleon said promptly.
    “Honey and alfalfa,” Imbri projected in a dreamlet.
    “Ah, so it is true!” the Gorgon said, pleased. “You really are a night mare! What a cute way of talking!” She led them to the dining room, where she brought out the promised staples. Chameleon’s oats were cooked over a little magic flame, then served with the milk and a snitch of honey from Imbri’s soaked alfalfa. It was an excellent dinner.
    Then they were ushered into the surly presence of Good Magician Humfrey. He had a tiny, cluttered study upstairs, stuffed with old tomes, multicolored bottles, magic mirrors, and assorted