Dream a Little Dream by Piers Anthony

worm through a side tunnel, with Snort illuminatingthe walls. The smell was not as bad as it had been because his nose was now numb to the odor, but the fumes still stung his eyes.
    Soon they arrived at a great domed chamber. The room was absolutely huge. It was lit by a tiny dot of daylight, high in the ceiling of the dome. In its very center was a tall pedestal made of a silvery material, probably dreamstone. On that elevation coiled a huge worm. It was twice as large and twice as ugly as the ones they had seen thus far, and it had two gleaming red eyes. It wore a silver bowl, upside down, on its head. It was obviously the king.
    “Approach me, you foul nothings,” the worm called down. He spoke plainly, with no slurring accent. Rank evidently had its privilege.
    Uncertain what the king intended, the three did as they were told, which was probably the best course.
    “My guard informs me that you have among you a Creator. Is this so?”
    Nola stepped forward, nervously. Mich could see that she was terrified.
    “Yes, Your Highness!” Nola thought how literal that address was as she looked way up at him. “I am Nola.” She had to speak loudly in order to be heard.
    “You?” the worm roared. “You are such a pitiful creature! Hardly even worth notice and yet you claim high status! How can that be?” He looked at her more closely. “I see you wear a Creator’s stigma around your neck. From whom did you steal it, cretin?”
    Nola fingered the cross around her neck; she had forgotten that it was there. “I am what I am, sir! I was told I am a Creator. I am here to help save Kafka from the Fren.” She was slightly offended.
    “You?” he roared again. He laughed so hard that he loosened his coiled body and his hind end dropped over the side. “You? Protect Kafka from the Fren?”

    “That is what I said,” Nola said, quirking her lips and crossing her arms. Her fear was turning to annoyance.
    “Look, you pitiful excuse for a humanoid, the Fren are far too powerful for the like of you. They would overwhelm your pitiful group in the blink of an eye! I do not believe you are a Creator. You are nothing to me.” He blinked his red orbs.
    The worm who had escorted them to the chamber was coming forward and sticking out his tongue. He wrapped it about Nola’s arm and pulled on it.
    “Wait!” Nola screamed. “I am! I am a Creator! If you kill me, many people will die, and if Kafka falls, so will you!”
    This gave the worm king pause for thought. He certainly did not want the blame to fall on him if Kafka was destroyed. The guard released her.
    “All right, then. Prove your status,” the king said, re-coiling his fallen tail.
    Nola looked at Mich, who just shrugged his shoulders. “How?” she asked.
    The king’s snout wrinkled. “Guard, bring Prince Chitie.”
    The guard worm left the chamber through a side tunnel and after a few moments was back, carrying a large iron cage. Inside the cage was a small, crumpled animal. It was black and looked like a deformed man. The guard put the cage down in front of Nola.
    “This is my son, Prince Chitie. He was ensorcelled by Reility. He can no longer burrow and is therefore not fit to be heir to the throne. He is my only son and must take kingship. If he does not, my bloodline will end.” The worm king looked almost sad as he blinked his red eyes. “If you are a Creator, you can change him back. If you do not, you will be promptly sprinkled with rot elixir so you can be consumed.”
    Mich, unable to control his anger further, stepped beneath theworm and shook his angry fist. “You can’t do this, you pile of refuse! I am Prince Michael, son of King Edward! I command you to release us at once, or face the consequences!”
    The worm king looked down. “You are in no position to command me or anyone else, twerp. I care snot for your human king. Below the surface, I rule.” An eye swiveled to cover Nola. “Now, comply or die.”
    Nola rested her hand on Mich’s