"So who cares if Fatso gets mad?" Dug yelled. "It's about time someone called a wimp a wimp! He couldn't work up a decent blow down here. He's just a stupid washout."

The mist along the slope pulled itself into a furiously swilling cloud. Jags of lightning shot out from it. The baleful face of Fracto formed, staring down.

Jenny screamed. "The Gap Dragon!'*

"No, that's c.r.a.pto, the least of clouds. You can tell by his vacuous expression."

"I mean down on the ground. There!" She pointed.

Dug looked. Indeed it was the dragon. A serpentine, six-legged creature, with a long mouthful of teeth, puffing steam.

Dug stood his ground. "Don't worry," he shouted. "Framto wouldn't dare wet on the Gap Dragon, so the p.o.o.py cloud can't get at us."

Sherlock opened his mouth as if about to address an idiot. Then there was a little flash above his head, that wasn't lightning. He had caught on to what Dug was doing. "Yeah," he agreed. "Clouds are notorious cowards."

Fracto exploded. Pieces of cloud flew everywhere, each with the same furious face of the original. Toothpick-sized jags of lightning flew out from them, sticking into the ground. One mini-jag struck the charging dragon on the trail.

The dragon whirled, unhurt but stung by the barb. He sent a sizzling stream of steam at the main remaining body of the cloud. Unfortunately the hot vapor only gave the thing a jolt of extra energy. The central blob expanded rapidly, incorporating the surrounding cloudlets. More lightning flashed. Suddenly Fracto was formidable.

"Aw, it's all flash and no snow," Dug called. "The thing's too hot to make snow anyway."

The boiling cloud turned gray. Then snow began to fly. In a moment mere was a blizzard, obscuring the dragon.

Dug grabbed the hands of the others. Silently he led them back to Roberta Sled, still amidst the pillow bush. They grabbed pillows to protect themselves from the sudden cold.

They heard the dragon casting about, searching for them. But the blizzard made visibility almost zero. As long as they were silent, they could not be found except by accident.

Sherlock squeezed Dug's hand appreciatively. The ploy had worked, and was hiding them from the dragon.

But Dug knew that this was only part of it. Before long the cloud would storm himself out, and the snow would melt, and the dragon would be waiting for them. So they had to act while the storm remained. In silence. Which meant that he couldn't explain the rest of his plan to the others; he would have to show them by action.

He tied pillows to his body by knotting their corners together. He got rope from his pack and strung it out so the others could hang on to it, not losing him. Then he set out across the floor of the Gap. He knew which way to go, because the sled pointed that way. If he veered a bit to the side, it didn't matter; he would find the wall soon enough.

He heard the dragon moving, still searching. There was a hiss as steam seared out to melt the snow, but more kept falling, as Fracto proved himself. The skirling snow blotted out both vision and smell. Dug angled his walk to steer well clear of the creature. Any little mistake could bring the steam, and then the dragon, and it would be over. If this weren't a fantasy game, he would have been almost too frightened to act. As it was, he was nervous enough.

Suddenly the wall loomed ahead. Good! He got down and silently scooped up a double handful of snow. He formed it into a ball, then rolled the ball, picking up more snow. When the ball was as large as he could conveniently handle, he rolled it to the base of the wall and left it there. Then he started another.

The others caught on. They made s...o...b..a.l.l.s of their own, and rolled them big and added them to the first one. The pile grew rapidly, and expanded into a ramp, which they quietly packed firm. Then they rolled b.a.l.l.s up it, to make it higher, wedging them into place and filling in the crevices with more snow.

By the time the storm began to ease, the ramp extended all the way up to the first ledge in the wall, well, above their heads. They rolled b.a.l.l.s up to that ledge, forming a second, smaller ramp extending from that ledge to a higher one. Dug wasn't sure that the second ledge led where they needed to go, but there was no way to find out except to get there and see.

The snow stopped falling. The mist cleared up.

There was a snort. The dragon spied them!

"Get up to the ledge!" Dug cried.

They scrambled, leaving their last s...o...b..a.l.l.s behind.

The dragon whomped toward them. But now there was a thick layer of snow on the ground, interfering with his navigation. He spun to the side and rolled tail over snoot. That gave the three of them time to make it to the ledge.

The dragon righted himself and blew out a thick stream of steam. The snow shrank nervously away from it. The dragon walked slowly toward the wall, melting snow before him. It was impressive.

Then Sherlock realized something. "The ramp! He can use it too!"

Oops! "We must knock it away, quickly," Dug said.

He and Sherlock sat on the edge of the ledge and kicked at the ramp, while Jenny hauled in the loose rope and coiled it. But the ramp was packed solid now, and gave way reluctantly. "We built too well," Sherlock said.

The dragon reached the base of the ramp. His steam melted the packed snow. He paused, considering. He was not all that stupid, it turned out. He aimed his steam upward, and started mounting the ramp.

Dug got out his club and whammed at the snow. But this too was ineffective, because he didn't dare swing hard enough to do real damage, for fear of hitting Sherlock. "Stand back," he cried. "I'll bash this out."

Sherlock got out of the way. Dug braced himself and swung a huge swing. The club bashed into the snow, caught-and jerked out of his hands.

"Oh, no!" Dug cried, diving for it. He got his hands on it, but overbalanced, falling onto the ramp himself. He scrambled to get back, but couldn't; instead he toppled off the ramp. He grabbed at it, but succeeded only in breaking his fall somewhat. He landed on his feet beside the ramp, holding the club.

Now he was in for it! One moment of carelessness had dumped him into the worst possible situation. He was pretty sure he couldn't fight the dragon; it would steam him before he got close enough to do any damage.

But maybe the dragon was too dull to realize what had happened. Maybe the creature would keep climbing the ramp and- And what? Gobble up the other two people?

"Hey, steamsnoot!" Dug cried, waving his weapon.

The dragon spied him. He pondered again. Then he got smoothly off the ramp and advanced on Dug. He was not so dull as not to realize that the morsel on the ground was easier to nab than the two on the ledge.

Dug ran. In a moment he heard the dragon whomping after him. But again the snow interfered, and the dragon got fouled up in his own torso. It seemed that it required a delicate balance to whomp, and the snow prevented this. That gave Dug slightly more of a chance than otherwise.

Dug ran in a circle, pursued by the dragon, who had to melt a path ahead of him. Even so, he wasn't exactly slow. Dug looped back to the ramp and charged up it.

But the dragon whipped back on his tail, much faster. He had a cleared area where he had been. As Dug tried to cross to the ledge, the dragon whomped. His foresection sailed right up and came down across the ramp. His weight and ma.s.s knocked out a section of it.

Dug slid to a stop, almost falling on the dragon's back. The monster was already bringing his head sinuously back, ready to chomp him. Could he smite that snoot with his club? He lifted it in both hands-and the dragon sent a waft of steam and almost boiled him where he stood. Had he not still been protected by pillows, he could have been finished right then. Dug had to reverse and run back off the ramp.

Now the ramp was out, and he was trapped on the floor of the chasm. The dragon was getting steadily more savvy.

Well, could he fight after all? It seemed ridiculous to have the club and never even try to use it. If he timed the blasts of steam, so as to dodge them, then struck from the side- He stood his ground as the dragon closed on him. He watched for the steam. The dragon inhaled, started to exhale, and Dug threw himself to the side.

But his foot slipped in the slushy snow, and he fell on his face. The blast of steam pa.s.sed just over his back. The snow melted around him.

Dug scrambled up. He plunged to the side, trying to get into position for a strike. But the dragon's snoot was tracking him, and the dragon's torso was inhaling. Could he strike before the dragon's breath reversed and cooked him?

He tried. But the dragon's head dodged to the side and fired another hiss of steam at Dug's feet. Dug leaped clear, and the steam melted the snow where he had stood. He landed on his back in the snow, his club waving helplessly. Some hero he was turning out to be!

As he scrambled back to his feet, he saw that there was a hole in the ground where the snow had melted. It was just about big enough for a man to fall into. He was lucky he hadn't stepped there when it was covered by the snow.

He tried once more to bring his weapon into play. But this time the dragon's tail whipped around and stung his hand. He dropped the club and retreated, his hand smarting. He was having one close call after another!

It was no good trying to fight the dragon. He just wasn't cut out for it. He really didn't know how to use the club and was as likely to hurt himself as the enemy. He was probably better off without it. But the dragon was better coordinated than he was; he couldn't outmaneuver him. What could he do to escape?

Dug turned around and ran directly away from the dragon. But the dragon whomped after him with distressing vigor. Dug tried to dodge again, and slipped again. He sat up-and there was the dragon's snoot, right before his face.

The dragon's mouth slowly opened. Dug realized that he was done for. He had blundered all the way, made a thorough a.s.s of himself, and now would be dispatched. He was disgusted. Why hadn't he used his brain to figure out some effective strategy, instead of just scrambling aimlessly through the snow?

His brain. Suddenly, in this seemingly hopeless situation, it was perking onto high. This was the game. There was always a way through. Maybe several ways. That hole in the ground-he might have crawled into that and escaped the dragon. Of course there might have been danger down there, like biting insects, ferocious rats or goblins. Maybe it was an escape he could have used if he had chosen Goody Goblin as Companion; Goody would have related to the other goblins and gotten him through. If he had taken Horace Centaur as Companion, he might have ridden away from the dragon; he doubted that whomping could match the speed of a gallop. If he had stayed with Grundy, the golem might have talked with the plants down here and gotten information where there was a secret pa.s.sage through the wall or something. Marrow Bones the walking skeleton might have-well, he wasn't sure what Marrow might have done but there was surely something. But he wasn't with any of those; he was with Jenny Elf, whose little cat had been unable to find a way out, and in any event, he was now stuck here alone. So there might be many ways out, but he had managed to avoid them all and make his situation worse. Because after provoking Fracto into hiding them with the blizzard, he had stopped using his mind and just slogged ahead physically.

He saw now that the dragon knew it was the game. Those near misses with the steam had been intentional. Maybe getting confused by the blizzard had been an act too. In real life he would have been chomped immediately. The dragon had been giving him a chance to get away, if he only had me wit to figure it out. Now the dragon was pausing, giving him one more chance. He had to take it.

He reached into his pocket and found the Germ of an Idea. He didn't need to put it to his forehead. He knew what to do with it in this punnish realm. "Dragon, beware!" he cried. "I've got a germ. If you chomp me, you'll get it"

The dragon hesitated. So it did understand his words! And it was cautious about a germ. Few predators cared to eat diseased prey. Probably the dragon knew it wasn't that kind of germ, but by the law of the pun he had to accept it. Dug had finally used his brain and found a way.

"Go ahead," he said, playing it for what it was worth as he got up. "Chomp me. Gobble up the germ. Maybe it won't hurt you." For sure it wouldn't hurt the dragon!

The dragon closed his mouth, considering. Then a thought percolated through. He aimed his snoot and inhaled. He was going to cook the prey, getting rid of the germ that way.

But now Dug was on his feet. He put them into gear and ran for the wall.

A jet of steam singed the snow beside him. Another close miss. "Thanks, dragon-breath!" Dug muttered. But he knew the dragon wouldn't miss too many more times; there were limits even to the game. He had to make good his escape now, or it would surely be never.

He touched the germ to his forehead as he ran. The idea came to him. "Jenny!" he called. "Let down the rope for me! Anchor it."

Jenny threw down one end of the rope, while Sherlock tied the other end to a crag. Dug reached it, grabbed it, and hauled up his legs just as another bolt of steam splashed against the wall where they had been. He handed himself up the rope, walking the wall with his feet. Rappelling, it was called, or something. And the dragon was letting him do it. Because it was an approved way to escape. Obviously in real life the dragon could have dispatched him instantly, but the game required that the Player be given every chance. It had surely been the same with the roc in the tall ha.s.sle tree forest. And the censor-ship. All he had to do was to learn to play the game right.

He made it to the ledge and heaved himself over. Just in time; his arms were starting to cramp from the unaccustomed exertion. No matter that this was just a game, and he wasn't really here, and his real body was sitting mesmerized by the stupid screen. He was into the spirit and sensation of it, and he felt what he was supposed to feel. Which at the moment was mostly joy, because now he understood what he needed to, to get wherever he was going. He had made the sensible decision to part company with Nada Naga, getting rid of a foolish distraction. Now he had made the decision to play the game right. After almost losing track and getting skunked.

He stood on the ledge and peered down at the dragon. The dragon peered up at him. Then the dragon winked.

But one thing nagged Dug's mind. He had been clumsy, even after making allowances. He had fallen almost right under the dragon's snoot. At that point he had made what should have been a fatal mistake, and paid the price for it Com-Pewter had shown no mercy on him when he lost the riddle contest. Why had the dragon been so much more generous?

He reviewed it in his mind, suspecting that there was some key element he had missed. Key elements were important here. They could apply to more than one situation, as had been the case with the germ. He wanted to fathom this one.

He had fallen down while trying to bash out the ramp, so the dragon could not reach the ledge. So then he was on the ground, and the dragon was mounting the ramp. The dragon was about to gobble up the two people trapped on the ledge. So Dug had cried out, attracting the dragon's attention to himself.

And there it was. He had, in the heat of the moment, acted selflessly. He had put himself in peril, to save his companions. No matter that the dragon wasn't really after them, because one was the Companion and the other was just a fellow traveler. Dug had done a generous thing. He must have earned a bonus point, and because of it the dragon had let him go, after a reasonable show.

Now he understood. So now he winked back at the dragon.

After which he turned around. "Let's see where we can go from here," he said. "I'm sure there's some way up. What does Sammy say?"

The little cat bounded up the snow steps the two had made, to the higher ledge. He knew where to go-now that they were past the dragon. The Companion could help, but the Player had to handle the main challenge. Okay.

And what would be the next challenge? He could find out "Jenny, what will we find south of the Gap Chasm?" he asked the elf girl as they followed the upper ledge to a hole in die cliff that now appeared.

"I'm not sure of the details, but I know there's quick sand and slow sand there," she said. "And the Gn.o.body Gnomes, and the Cow Boys and the Knock-Kneed Knights."

"Now, why do I have the feeling that those are not ordinary gnomes, or young men who herd cows?" Dug inquired rhetorically.

"The Cow Boys are bull-headed," she agreed. "And the Knights are empty. And there's also Com-Pewter somewhere in there."

Pewter! This was the one he had been waiting for. The rematch. Jenny Elf didn't realize that he had already encountered the evil machine, and had a score to settle. He should have known that his path would lead him there, because he could not win the game without nullifying whatever had balked him before.

So now he knew his next major challenge. This time he intended to be prepared. "Pewter," he murmured, "I'm going to kick your metal b.u.t.t!"

Then he focused on their climb out of the chasm, because he had learned better than to ignore the details of the moment. Sammy Cat was leading the way, but there could still be complications. They were now in a wormlike tunnel wending upward, festooned with spider webbing. But the worm would have had to be the size of the diggle. Well, maybe it had been a diggle, who forgot to phase out when traveling, so left a hole in the ground. Just so long as it led them back to ground level.

Meanwhile, he would keep an eye out for anything that might enable him to handle Pewter. So that he could continue playing the game, and remain in Xanth.

Chapter 12: MERCI.

Kim walked east along the Gap Chasm. The snow was already melting; it seemed that the evil cloud could blow up a snowstorm, but couldn't actually cool me land. That was just as well; Fracto had caused too much misery already.

"I guess we'd better fill you in on what we were up to before we met," Kim said to Nada Naga. "Jenny and I encountered the ogres of the Ogre Fen, then ran afoul of Fracto and got washed into the Water Wing, where Cyrus rescued us. On the way out I found Bubbles." She patted the dog. "Cyrus is looking for a wife."

Nada glanced sidelong at Cyrus. "So I garnered. He wouldn't happen to be a prince, would he?"

"No, I'm just a regular merman," Cyrus said. "Why?"

"I have been looking for a husband," she said candidly. "But I would prefer to have a prince."

"I would not do for you anyway, because I must marry either a mermaid or a fish. I would prefer the mermaid."

"I am not surprised. The naga sometimes must marry either full human folk, or full serpent folk, but we prefer our own kind. However, we also marry to cement liaisons with other species. But this is done only between princes and princesses."

"But your brother Naldo married Mela Merwoman," Kim said. "She wasn't a princess, was she?"

"My brother Prince Naldo has an eye for the ladies," she replied evenly. "He happened to catch a glimpse of Mela's panties, and decided to marry her. Mela fills her panties very well, considering her age."

"She's young?" Cyrus asked.

"No, old. But she retains her youthful proportions, which are generous. My brother noticed." She shrugged. "Males have never been much for following the rules. Our father was annoyed, until he met the merwoman. Then he concluded that this was a warranted exception to our policy."

"Sounds like s.e.xism to me," Kim muttered.

"Her proportions are surely not more generous than your own," Cyrus said diplomatically.

"Oh, I believe they are! You have to understand that merwomen are not quite the same as mermaids; they are better endowed. I think it is because the sea is colder than the lakes and rivers. Perhaps the salt has something to do with it" She glanced again at him. "Have you ever swum in salt, Cyrus?"

"Never. But I shall be happy to give it a try.**

"I understand that the merfolk of the sea and the merfolk of the lakes are incompatible, for that reason," Nada said. "But that is only hearsay."

Kim heard something. "Is that a storm, down inside the Gap Chasm?" she asked.