the smoke. Chet, with four feet, balanced on the shifting surface fairly handily, but Smash, Irene, and Dor had trouble. Finally they scrambled on hands and feet, getting from the hot lower smoke to the cooler higher smoke.
This was less dense, but the footing remained adequate.
The surface was spongy, to Dor’s sensation, like a soft balloon that was constantly changing its shape. The smoke seemed solid to their soles and palms, but it remained gaseous in nature, with its own whorls and eddies. They could not stand still on it. Dor had to keep shifting his weight to maintain balance. It was a challenge-and became fun.
Now the sea monster arrived. She sniffed the beach, then followed her nose up to the smoke and the creatures on it. The wind was extending the smoke on an almost level course at this elevation, not quite beyond reach of the monster. The creature spied Irene up there, did a double take, then snapped at the girl-who screamed and jumped off the smoke.
For an instant Dor saw her there in midair, as if she were frozen, her shriek descending with her. He knew he could not reach her or help her. The fool girl!
Then a loop of rope snagged her and drew her back to the smoke.
Chet had saved his rope, the one used to draw Dor up from the hole, and now had used it to rescue Irene from her folly. Dor’s heart dropped back into place.
The sea monster, deprived of her morsel, emitted an angry honk and lunged again. But this time Irene had the wit to scramble away, and the huge snout bit into the smoke and passed through it harmlessly. The teeth made an audible clash as they closed on nothing.
However, the passage of the monster’s head through the smoke disturbed the column, and Dor and Smash were caught on the side nearer the fire. They could not rejoin the others until the column mended itself.
Now the monster concentrated on the two of them, since they were closest to the ground. They could not move off the smoke, so she had a good shot at them. Her huge ugly snout oriented on Dor and lunged forward.
Dor had had enough of monsters. He danced aside and whipped out his magic sword. The weapon moved dazzlingly in his hand, slicing through the soft tissue of the monster’s left nostril. The creature honked with pain and rage.
“Oooo, that’s not ladylike!” Grundy called from upsmoke.
“Depends on the lady,” Irene remarked.
Now the sea monster opened her ponderous and mottled jaws and advanced agape. Dor had to retreat, for the mouth was too big for him to handle; it could take him in with one chomp. The monsters of the ocean grew larger than those of the lakes!
But, stepping back, he stumbled over a fresh roil of smoke and sat down hard-on nothing solid. His seat passed right through, and he had to snatch madly with both hands to save himself. He was caught as if in a tub, supported only by his feet and hands.
The monster hissed in glee and moved in to take him in, bottomfirst. But Smash stepped into her mouth, hamfists bashing into the giant teeth with loud clashing sounds, knocking chips from them.
Startled, the monster paused, mouth still open. The ogre stomped on her tongue and jumped back to the smoke.
By the time Dor had regained his feet, the monster had retreated, and Smash was bellowing some rhyming imprecation at her. But the monster was not one of the shy little creatures of the inland lakes that gobbled careless swimmers; she was a denizen of the larger puddle. She had been balked, not defeated; she was really angry now.
The monster honked. “I have not yet begun to bite!” Grundy translated. She cast about for some better way to get at the smokeborn morsels-and spied the fire on the beach.
The monster was not stupid for her kind. The tiny wheels rotated almost visibly in her huge ugly head as she contemplated the blaze.
Then she dropped her head down, gathered herself, and with her flippers swept a huge wash of water onto the beach.
The fire hissed and sent up a violent protest of steam, then ignominiously capitulated and died. The smoke stopped billowing up.
Dor and his friends were left standing on dissipating smoke. Soon they would be left with no visible means of support.
The remaining cloud of smoke coalesced somewhat as it shrank.
Dor and Smash rejoined the other three. Now all were balancing on a diffusing mass; soon they would fall into the ocean, where the sea monster slavered eagerly.
“Well, do something!” Irene screamed at Dor.
Dor’s performance under pressure had been spotty. Now his brain percolated more efficiently. “We must make more smoke,” he said. “Irene, do you have any more flammable plants in your bag?”
“Just some torchflowers,” she replied. “I lost so many good seeds to the eclectic eel! But where can I grow them? They need solid ground.”
“Smear magic salve on the roots,” Dor told her. “Let a torch grow in this smoke.”
Her mouth opened in a cute of surprise. “That just might work!” She took out a seed, smeared it in the salve Dor held out, and ordered it to grow.
It worked. The torch developed and matured, guttering into flame and smoke. The wind carried the smoke west in a thin, dark brown stream.
Irene looked at it with dismay. “I expected it to spread out more. It will take a balancing act to walk on that!”
“In addition to which,” Chet said, “the smoke in which the torch is rooted is rapidly dwindling. When it falls into the ocean-“
“We’ll have to root it in its own smoke,” Dor said. “Then it will never fall.”
“Can’t,” she protested. “The smoke won’t curl down, and anyway it’s always moving; the thing would go into a tailspin.”
“It also smacks of paradox,” Chet said. “This is a problematical concept when magic is involved; nevertheless-“
“Better do something,” Grundy warned. “That sea monster’s waiting open-mouthed beneath this cloud.”
“Have you another torch-seed?” Dor asked.
“Yes, one more,” Irene said. “But I don’t see-“
“Grow it in smoke from this one. Then we’ll play leapfrog.”
“Are you sure that makes sense?”
“No.”
She proceeded. Soon the second torch was blazing, rooted in the smoke of the first, and its own trail of smoke ran above and parallel to the first. “But we still can’t balance on those thin lines,” Chet said.
“Yes, we can. Put one foot on each.”
Dubiously, Chet tried it. It worked; he was able to brace against the two columns, careful not to fall between them, and walk slowly forward. Irene followed, more awkwardly, for the twin columns were at slightly different elevations and varied in separation.
There was a honking chuckle from below. Irene colored. “That monster is looking up my skirt!” she exclaimed, furious.
“Don’t worry,” Grundy said. “It’s a female monster.”
“You can be sure your legs are the first it will chomp if it gets the chance,” Dor snapped. He had little patience with her vanity at this moment.
Smash went out on the columns next, balancing easily; the ogre was not nearly as clumsy as he looked.
“Go on, Grundy,” Dor said. “I’ll move the first torch.”
“How can you move it?” the golem demanded. “You can’t balance on one column.”
“I’ll manage somehow,” Dor said, though this was a complication he hadn’t worked out. Once the first torch was moved, there would be no smoke from it for him to walk on.
“You’re so busy trying to be a hero, you’re going to wind up monster food,” Grundy said. “Where is Xanth, if
