"The longer we stand here, the more scared I get," Dor agreed. "So let's get on with it before I start crying," he added, and wished he hadn't phrased it quite that way.
Grundy looked at the needle-cactus again. "When I was really a golem, a little thing like a needier couldn't hurt me. I wasn't real. I felt no pain. But now-I'm too scared to know what to say."
"I'll say it. It's my quest, after all; you don't have to participate. I don't know why you're risking yourself here anyway."
"Because I care, you twit!"
Which had to be true. "Okay. You just translate what I say into cactus talk." Dor nerved himself again and walked slowly toward the vegetable monster.
"Say something! Say something!" Grundy cried, as needles oriented on them visibly, ready to fly off their handles.
"I am a fireman," Dor said uncertainly. "I-I am made of fire. Anything that touches me gets burned to a crisp. This is my firedog, Grundy the growler. I am just taking my hot dog for a walk, just passing through, chewing idly on a firecracker. I love crackers!"
Grundy made a running series of scrapes and whistles, as of wind blowing through erect cactus needles. The needier seemed to be listening; there was an alert quiver about its needles now. Could this possibly work?
"We are merely passing through," Dor continued. "We aren't looking for trouble. We don't like to burn off needles unless we really have to, because they scorch and pop and smell real bad." He saw some needles wilt as Grundy translated. The message was getting through! "We have nothing against cactuses, so long as they keep their place. Some cactuses are very nice. Some of Grundy's best friends are cactuses; he likes to-" Dor paused. What would a firedog do with a compatible cactus? Water it down, of course-with a stream of fire. That wouldn't go over very well, here. "Uh, he likes to sniff their flowers as he dogtrots by. We only get upset if any needles happen to get in our way. When we get upset, we get very hot. Very very hot. In fact we just get all burned up." He decided not to overdo it, lest he lose credibility. "But we aren't too hot right now because we know no nice cactus would try to stick us. So we won't have to burn off any inconvenient needles."
The cactus seemed to withdraw into itself, giving them room to pass without touching. His ploy was working! "My, these firecrackers are good. Would you like a cracker, cactus?" He held out one hand.
The cactus gave a little keen of apprehension, much as the tangler had when Crunch the ogre growled at it. The needles shied away. Then Dor was past it, penetrating into the alcove passage. But he was still within range of the needier, so he kept talking. After all, if the thing caught on to his ruse, it would be a very angry cactus.
"Sure was nice meeting you, cactus. You're a real sharp creature. Not like the one I encountered the other day, who tried to put a needle in my back. I fear I lost my temper. Tempering takes a lot of heat. I fired up like a wounded salamander, and I went back and hugged that poor cactus until all its needles burst into flame. The scorch marks are still on it, but I'm happy to say that it will probably survive. Lucky it was a wet day, raining in fact, so my heat only cooked its outer layers some instead of setting the whole thing on fire. I'm sorry I did that; I really think that needle in the back was an accident. Something that just slipped out. I just can't help myself when I get hot."
He rounded the curve in the passage, so that he was no longer in view of the needier. Then he leaned against the wall, feeling faint.
Grundy's translation came to an end. "You're the best liar I've ever seen," he said admiringly.
"I'm the scaredest liar you've ever seen!"
"Well, I guess it takes practice. But you did well; I could hardly keep up with those whoppers! But I knew if I cracked a smile, I'd really get needled."
Dor pondered the implications. He had indeed achieved his victory by lying. Was that the way it should be? He doubted it. He made a mental resolution: no more lying. Not unless absolutely necessary. If a thing could not be accomplished honestly, probably it wasn't worth accomplishing at all.
"I never realized what a coward I was," Dor said, changing the subject slightly. "I'll never grow up."
"I'm a coward too," Grundy said consolingly. "I've never been so scared since I turned real."
"One more challenge to handle-the worst one. I wish I were man-sized and man-couraged!"
"Me too," the golem agreed.
The passage terminated in a conventional door with a conventional door latch. "Here we come, ready or not," Dor muttered.
"You're not ready," the door replied.
Dor ignored it. He worked the latch and opened the door.
There was a small room paneled in bird-of-paradise feathers. A woman of extraordinary perfection stood watching them. She wore a low-cut gown, jeweled sandals, a comprehensive kerchief, and an imported pair of Mundane dark glasses. "Welcome, guests," she breathed, in such a way that Dor's gaze was attracted to the site of breathing, right where the gown was cut lowest yet fullest.
"Uh, thanks," Dor said, nonplused. This was the worst hazard of all? He needed no adult-male vision to see that it was a hazard few men would balk at.
"There's something about her-I don't like this," Grundy whispered in his ear. "I know her from somewhere-"
"Here, let me have a look at you," the woman said, lifting her hand to her glasses. Dor's glance was drawn away from her torso to her face. Her hair began to move under her kerchief, as if separately alive.
Grundy stiffened. "Close your eyes!" he cried. "I recognize her now. Those serpent locks-that's the gorgon!"
Dor's eyes snapped closed. He barged ahead, trying to get out of the room before any accident caused him to take an involuntary look. He knew what the gorgon was; her glance turned men to stone. If they met that glance with their own.
His blindly moving feet tripped over a step, and Dor fell headlong. He threw his arms up to shield his face, but did not open his eyes. He landed jarringly and lay there, eyelids still tightly screwed down.
There was the swish of long skirts coming near. "Get up, young man," the gorgon said. Her voice was deceptively soft.
"No!" Dor cried. "I don't want to turn to stone!"
"You won't turn to stone. The hurdles are over; you have won your way into the castle of the Good Magician Humfrey. No one will harm you here."
"Go away!" he said. "I won't look at you!"
She sighed, very femininely. "Golem, you look at me. Then you can reassure your friend."
"I don't want to be stone either!" Grundy protested. "I had too much trouble getting real to throw it away now. I saw what happened to all those men your sister the siren lured to your island."
"And you also saw how the Good Magician nullified me. There is no threat now."
"That's right! He-but how do I know the spell's still on? It's been a long time since-"
"Take this mirror and look at me through the reflection first," she said. "Then you will know."
"I can't handle a big mirror! I'm only inches tall, only a-oh, what's the use! Dor, I'm going to look at her. If I turn to stone, you'll know she can't be trusted."
"Grundy, don't-"
"I already have," the golem said, relieved. "It's all right, Dor, you can look."
Grundy had never deceived him. Dor clenched his teeth and cracked open an eye, seeing the lighted room and the gorgon's nearest foot. It was a very pretty foot, with fluorescently tinted toenails, topped by a shapely ankle. Funny how he had never noticed ankles before! He got to his hands and knees, his eyes traveling cautiously up her marvelously molded legs until the view was cut off by the hem of her gown. It was a shapely gown, too, slightly translucent so that the suggestion of her legs continued on up to-but enough of this stalling. He forced his reluctant eyes to travel all the way up past her contours until they approached her head.