Castle Roogna by Piers Anthony Page A

That we were salamanders, burning hot, about to burn it down?"
           "Wouldn't work. It might be scared-but all it would do would be to fire off a volley of needles, to kill the salamander before the creature could get close."
           "Hm, yes. But what about something that wasn't threatening, but was still sort of dangerous? A fireman, maybe, just passing through with flame on low."
           Grundy considered. "That just might work. But if it failed-"
           "Doom," Dor finished. "We'd be pincushions."
           Both looked back at the moat. The triton was watching them alertly. "Pincushions either way," Grundy said. "I sure wish we were heroes, instead of golems and boys. We're not cut out for this sort of thing."
           "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