Night Mare by Piers Anthony Page A

have to go in and look,” she projected. “Maybe there is some sign of what happened to the Good Magician.”
    “Maybe he moved,” Chameleon suggested.
    They approached the moat. By night Imbri could have hurdled it or trotted across the surface of the water, but now she had to wade and swim, since she did not want to delay unnecessarily.
    The moment her hoof touched the water, a fish swam up. It changed into a naked man before them. “Halt! You can’t pass here!”
    “Oh, dear,” Chameleon said.
    Imbri recognized the type. “You’re a nix,” she projected.
    The man shifted form again, partway, adopting the tail of a fish. “Well, mare!” he said. “What else would you expect to find guarding a moat?”
    “At Castle Roogna there are nice moat monsters,” Chameleon said.
    “I
am
a moat monster!” the nix declared. “And you can’t pass unless you know the password.”
    “Password?” Chameleon was plainly perplexed. So was Imbri. Why should they be allowed to pass it they knew a word, if their merit was not otherwise apparent? This did not seem to make sense.
    Imbri tried to evoke the word from a dream, but the nix was too canny for that. Dreams were aids to communication and often evoked deep feeling, but were not for mind reading.
    “We’ll just have to cross despite him,” Imbri projected privately to Chameleon, with a dream picture of woman and horse forging across the moat while the nix protested helplessly. After all, the creature carried no weapon and was not physically imposing in either its fish or man form. Also, they had the right and the need to cross they were on the King’s business.
    “Yes, we must cross,” Chameleon agreed. She hiked up her skirt so that it would not get wet, though of course Imbri was likely to sink low enough in the water to wet the woman’s legs to the thighs anyway. They were excellent limbs, considering her age. Perhaps even not considering her age. Water would hardly hurt them.
    This was not lost on the nix. He whistled lewdly. “Look at those gams!” he exclaimed.
    “Ignore him,” Imbri said in the dream image, for she saw that the dream girl Chameleon was blushing. It seemed that despite a quarter century of marriage, Chameleon remained fundamentally innocent. That probably accounted for her son’s innocence. Imbri found herself liking the woman even more and felt protective toward her. Chameleon was as esthetic emotionally as she was physically, almost too nice to be true.
    They plunged into the water. “Nix, nix!” the nix cried. “You shall not pass without the word! I will freeze your tracks!” He pointed—and the water abruptly congealed about Imbri’s legs.
    Imbri stopped, perforce. She stood knee-deep in ice! The nix did have power to stop her progress.
    “What do you think of that, nag?” the nix demanded with insolent satisfaction. He was now back in fish form, able to speak that way, too. “No password, no passing. I told you! Did you think the rule was passé?”
    Chameleon fidgeted helplessly, but Imbri struggled to draw one foot and then another from its mooring. Ice splintered as her hooves came free. Soon she stood on the frozen surface and began to walk forward.
    “Nix! Nix!” the sprite cried, back in man form, pointing again with a finlike arm. The ice melted instantly, and Imbri dropped into deeper water with a splash. The nix chortled.
    Well, then she would wade again. One way or another, she would cross this moat
    The nix froze the water again—and again Imbri struggled to the top. He melted it, plunging her down. This was awkward, but the continued to make progress. The nix could not actually stop her.
    Then she reached the deep where she had to swim. The water came almost to the top of her back. Chameleon hiked her skirt up over her waist “Oh, it tickles!” she protested.
    The nix gloated, now faintly resembling a satyr. “Where does it tickle, wench?
I’ll
give you a good tickle, if that’s what you like.” This