'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!'
