path crosses it, because that’s where I know a way down into it. I’ll have to clear it with Stanley Steamer, the Gap Dragon, so he doesn’t steam any of us.”
Picka knew that was a good precaution, because though fire dragons were impressive, Stanley’s steam could quickly cook a living person.
They organized, then headed northwest toward the crossing. Soon they encountered a small furry creature heaving rocks around. It ignored them, and didn’t seem to be dangerous. “What is it?” Joy’nt asked.
“I can’t tell,” Dawn said. “It’s not alive. But it’s acting like a woodchuck.”
“Don’t woodchucks chuck wood?”
“Yes. So this must be a rockchuck.”
The creature glanced at her and nodded. Then it returned to chucking rocks.
“How much rock could a rockchuck chuck, if a rockchuck could chuck stone?” The voice came from one of the chucked rocks.
“Could chuck what?” Dawn asked.
“Boulder, pebble, gravel, sand—”
“Rock?”
“Whatever,” the rock agreed irritably.
“So nice to meet you again, Metria,” Dawn said with feigned niceness.
The rock expanded into a cloud of swirling smoke, which in turn formed into a sultry, shapely female demon form. “How did you know it was me?”
“It was a lucky guess.”
Metria frowned. “People get suspiciously lucky around me.” She glanced around. “Who are your friends, and what are you up to?”
“These are Picka and Joy’nt Bone, and the erstwhile Baldwin Family pets Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange. We’re on a quest for Pundora’s Box.”
“Oh, the Good Magician stuck you with that chore? Lotsa luck, Princess.”
“We may need it,” Dawn agreed. “I don’t suppose you would like to help?”
“Me? I’m almost never helpful. It’s against my principles.”
“You won’t make an exception? We’re having a real problem.”
“No exception.” Metria puffed into bad-smelling smoke and dissipated like a used pun.
“I have heard of Metria,” Picka said. “She’s always mischief. Why were you so polite to her?”
“Because she prefers to do the opposite of what you want. It’s called reverse psychology.”
“So you really wanted her to go away?”
“I did. We’re going to have enough trouble locating and recruiting Granola, without Metria putting in her three cents.”
“How many cents?” he asked.
“Four, five, six, seven, eight—”
“Two?” Joy’nt asked.
“Whatever,” Dawn said crossly. Then they all laughed.
“I heard that,” Metria said, reappearing. “You are up to something interesting, after all.”
“Oh, bleep!” Dawn swore. “I forget that you can never be sure a demoness is really gone. My worse.”
“Your what?” Metria asked.
“Worst, awful, mistake, error, miscue—”
“Bad?”
“Whatever!”
Even the demoness had to laugh this time.
“So I suppose now we are stuck with you,” Dawn said.
“I’m not sure,” Metria said thoughtfully. “I can’t tell whether you are pretending to be mad to be sure I’ll stay, or whether you really want me to go, as you said before. You might have known I was still listening.”
“True,” Dawn agreed.
Metria eyed her. “You are being most annoying.”
“It must be awful to have someone else emulate your specialty.”
The demoness puffed into momentary flame. “That does it. I’ll stay until I’m sure I’m wanted. Then I’ll go.”
“You will have a long stay, then,” Dawn said.
“Bleep you! You’re as bad as your sister.”
“I am not!” Dawn retorted. “I’m worse than my sister.”
Picka had no idea how much of this was serious. Dawn was no slouch with intellectual fencing. “Why don’t we just ignore her?” he suggested.
“Ignore me?” Metria demanded. “You can’t ignore me!”
Picka ignored her.
She puffed into smoke, then reformed as a skeleton with marvelously nice bones. “Ignore this!” she said, presenting her shapely pelvis for a kick.
Picka tried, but couldn’t keep his
Picka knew that was a good precaution, because though fire dragons were impressive, Stanley’s steam could quickly cook a living person.
They organized, then headed northwest toward the crossing. Soon they encountered a small furry creature heaving rocks around. It ignored them, and didn’t seem to be dangerous. “What is it?” Joy’nt asked.
“I can’t tell,” Dawn said. “It’s not alive. But it’s acting like a woodchuck.”
“Don’t woodchucks chuck wood?”
“Yes. So this must be a rockchuck.”
The creature glanced at her and nodded. Then it returned to chucking rocks.
“How much rock could a rockchuck chuck, if a rockchuck could chuck stone?” The voice came from one of the chucked rocks.
“Could chuck what?” Dawn asked.
“Boulder, pebble, gravel, sand—”
“Rock?”
“Whatever,” the rock agreed irritably.
“So nice to meet you again, Metria,” Dawn said with feigned niceness.
The rock expanded into a cloud of swirling smoke, which in turn formed into a sultry, shapely female demon form. “How did you know it was me?”
“It was a lucky guess.”
Metria frowned. “People get suspiciously lucky around me.” She glanced around. “Who are your friends, and what are you up to?”
“These are Picka and Joy’nt Bone, and the erstwhile Baldwin Family pets Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange. We’re on a quest for Pundora’s Box.”
“Oh, the Good Magician stuck you with that chore? Lotsa luck, Princess.”
“We may need it,” Dawn agreed. “I don’t suppose you would like to help?”
“Me? I’m almost never helpful. It’s against my principles.”
“You won’t make an exception? We’re having a real problem.”
“No exception.” Metria puffed into bad-smelling smoke and dissipated like a used pun.
“I have heard of Metria,” Picka said. “She’s always mischief. Why were you so polite to her?”
“Because she prefers to do the opposite of what you want. It’s called reverse psychology.”
“So you really wanted her to go away?”
“I did. We’re going to have enough trouble locating and recruiting Granola, without Metria putting in her three cents.”
“How many cents?” he asked.
“Four, five, six, seven, eight—”
“Two?” Joy’nt asked.
“Whatever,” Dawn said crossly. Then they all laughed.
“I heard that,” Metria said, reappearing. “You are up to something interesting, after all.”
“Oh, bleep!” Dawn swore. “I forget that you can never be sure a demoness is really gone. My worse.”
“Your what?” Metria asked.
“Worst, awful, mistake, error, miscue—”
“Bad?”
“Whatever!”
Even the demoness had to laugh this time.
“So I suppose now we are stuck with you,” Dawn said.
“I’m not sure,” Metria said thoughtfully. “I can’t tell whether you are pretending to be mad to be sure I’ll stay, or whether you really want me to go, as you said before. You might have known I was still listening.”
“True,” Dawn agreed.
Metria eyed her. “You are being most annoying.”
“It must be awful to have someone else emulate your specialty.”
The demoness puffed into momentary flame. “That does it. I’ll stay until I’m sure I’m wanted. Then I’ll go.”
“You will have a long stay, then,” Dawn said.
“Bleep you! You’re as bad as your sister.”
“I am not!” Dawn retorted. “I’m worse than my sister.”
Picka had no idea how much of this was serious. Dawn was no slouch with intellectual fencing. “Why don’t we just ignore her?” he suggested.
“Ignore me?” Metria demanded. “You can’t ignore me!”
Picka ignored her.
She puffed into smoke, then reformed as a skeleton with marvelously nice bones. “Ignore this!” she said, presenting her shapely pelvis for a kick.
Picka tried, but couldn’t keep his
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