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but she was too courteous to do that.
Cathryn stood and recalled her blanket. The wisps of cloud funneled into her hands, and the ground was
clear again.
Imbri continued her determined trek. "It is getting close," she said.
"That's good," Cathryn said, because as they walked she was looking more like seven than eight. It was
clear that she would be unable to go beyond her limit.
They crested a hill, and looked down on an enormous castle. It had no moat, and evidently didn't need
one, because the bashed and splintered state of the trees around it showed it to be the home of an ogre.
What else, here in ogre country?
"It's in there," Imbri said. "The one who knows where the dear horn is."
"I don't think there's anything in there but the ogre," Cathryn said. "I don't think it's a good idea to go
in."
"But if he's the one who knows, we'll have to ask him," Forrest said.
"Ogres eat other folk, and crunch their bones," Cathryn reminded him, shivering. As a child she lacked
courage.
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"But that's temporary, here, isn't it?" Imbri asked. "Because all folk are just spirits, so can't be truly
killed or destroyed?"
"Yes. But it's awful getting crunched. It hurts. And if he crunches you, you'll be gone from that region.
You can never return to where you died, any more than you can go beyond your regions of delivery or
ending."
"You mean folk can die here?" Forrest asked, alarmed.
"Not exactly. We can die, but it is limited."
"How can death be limited?"
"Limited to the region where the death occurs. That means that though a person reconstitutes, he can
never return to that spot, or ever come close to it. The limit is about six months on a side, From and To,
and equivalent distances north and south."
Both Forrest and Imbri were perplexed. "But why can't a person just go there anyway?" Imbri asked.
"He just can't. It no longer exists for him. He can see the limit, but can't cross it."
"You mean it exists, only he can't go there?" Forrest asked. "Others can go, but not the one who died
there?"
"Yes."
They pondered that a moment. Then Forrest had another question: "Suppose I get killed by the ogre, so I
can't go back there, but then the ogre comes out here? Beyond the six month range? Could I have at him
again?"
"Yes. When two folk fight, and one kills the other, he has to be careful when he leaves that area, because
the other may be lurking for him, to kill him back. Sometimes two enemies leave a whole series of holes
in each other's existences, making things difficult. So as a general rule, folk try not to kill or be killed,
because it's such a nuisance."
"What about dragons or ogres?"
"That's another matter. They are so dull that they don't worry about such complications. Dragons don't
kill their own, and don't care about others. If an ogre crunches you once, he'll do it again. It isn't easy to
talk to an ogre; they're too stupid. I think maybe this a bad idea."
"But if we don't talk to him, we can't find out where the dear horn is," Forrest said. "Then we won't be
able to complete our service to you, and you won't be able to help us find faun country."
"That is true," she agreed sadly.
Forrest pondered. "It occurs to me that this is like one of the Good Magician's Challenges. We just have
to figure out the way through."
"But we have no guarantee that there is a way through," Imbri said. "This isn't a carefully crafted test.
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This is real."
"Still, even real challenges often have solutions." He gazed at the castle. "Maybe animal psychology will
help. What is the basic nature of ogres?"
"Everyone knows that," Cathryn said. "They are the strongest, ugliest, and stupidest creatures around."
He nodded. "That's my understanding. I hear they even have contests in those categories. But I also hear
that they're not bad folk, when you get to know them."
"Who would want to get to know an ogre?" Cathryn inquired.
"We would," Imbri said. "So we can ask him where the dear horn is."
"Oh, that's right; I forgot. I don't have much memory at this age."
But Forrest was working on his notion. "Ogres have pride, don't they? Suppose we challenged him to an
ugly contest?"
"But we couldn't possibly win that," Cathryn said. "None of us is even remotely uglier than the
handsomest ogre."
"So we would lose," Forrest said.
"Yes. Instantly. Then he would crunch us."
But Imbri was catching on. "Would he crunch folk he had just bested, and who admitted it? Who maybe
even praised his superior ugliness?"
Cathryn stared at her. "What a notion! You mean his ogre pride in victory would make him generous?"
Forrest nodded. "Yes. We could rally make him proud."
Imbri remained doubtful. "But if it doesn't work, we get crunched."
Forrest nodded. "So I guess I'd better go in alone."
Both fillies reacted. "We didn't say that," Imbri protested.
"No, we didn't," Cathryn agreed.
"But it's my idea, and there's no sense in having two or three of us get crunched, when one will do."
The two exchanged a generous glance. "We're not sure this is best," Imbri said.
"Consider it this way: if I get crunched, you will still be here to try it, if you wish to, perhaps with more
success. If it works for me, then I can ask the ogre to let the two of you in. So you don't need to take the
risk either way, unless you decide to."
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"I hate to say it," Cathryn said. "But he's making sense."
"Fauns are more sensible than I thought," Imbri agreed.
"And have more courage than I thought."
"Well, we don't just chase nymphs, you know," Forrest said, embarrassed. "Now, how can I make
myself ugly?"
"Why even try?" Imbri asked. "Just challenge him, and lose. He won't know the difference."
He nodded. "I'll do it." He squared himself, and marched on toward the castle.
"Wait!" Imbri called. "If you get crunched, where will you reconstitute?"
He paused. "How far is half a year?"
Cathryn considered. "Back about where we emerged from the comic strip."
"Then I'll form there, just this side of it."
"All right," Imbri said. "But be careful, Forrest."
He laughed. "If I was careful, I wouldn't walk into an ogre's den."
He resumed his march.
The castle loomed larger and uglier as he approached it. It was huge and squat, with dull thatch for the
roof, and mildew on the stone walls. The big front door was well over twice his own height, made of
ironwood.
He came to a stop before the door. Entry was a daunting prospect, but he raised one fist and knocked on
the wood iron.
There was no response. So he knocked harder. Still nothing. He realized that the ogre probably couldn't
hear him. For one thing, there was a constant rumbling or crashing from within the castle, as if
something huge and violent were bashing down walls.
He looked around and saw a big bell. On it was printed the word WEATHER. Beside it was a solid
metal bar. So he picked up the bar, hefted it high, and swung it at the bell-weather.
There was a loud gong, followed by a crack of thunder. A storm cloud formed over the bell, shooting
out bolts of lightning. The lightning struck the bell, adding to the sound. Then a bucket of rain dropped
from the cloud and doused the bell. The sound faded, and the cloud evaporated.
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