"Whoa!" Cimorene cried. "Whoa, you stupid carpet, cut it out"

Again, the carpet froze. Then it dropped again, but this time, instead of bumping, it fell like a stone. Mendanbar got a glimpse of the ground drawing quickly closer, and then he had both hands on the hilt of his sword. He didn't bother to pull it out of the sheath, he just yanked at the power it held and flung it around himself and Cimorene.

Then he shoved with all his might.

Their speed slowed abruptly. The carpet fell away beneath them, rippling angrily, and plopped down on a rocky depression at the foot of a mountain. Mendanbar and Cimorene drifted after it, landing softly in the carpet's center. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath and collecting their wits.

Finally, Mendanbar raised his head and looked warily around. They lay in the middle of a circle of pine trees. "I think we've arrived," he said, sitting up.

"Good," Cimorene said shakily. She sat up, pushing tendrils of hair out of her face, and gave him a crooked smile. "I guess I should have asked Ballimore a few more questions about this carpet before we took it."

"Yes, well, it's too late now." Mendanbar rolled off the carpet and stood up. "How far have we come?"

"A little over halfway, I think. Too far to walk back, not far enough to walk the rest of the way there." She made a face at the teddy bears, which looked innocently back. "We may have to try the carpet again."

"We don't have to try it right away, though," Mendanbar pointed out.

"There's a house over there-you can see the roof through the trees.

Maybe the owner can tell us exactly where we are and the shortest way to get where we're going."

"All right," Cimorene agreed, with a swiftness that made Mendanbar think she was no more eager to get back on the carpet than he was.

"We'll have to bring the carpet with us, though. If you leave magical things lying around, all sorts of dreadful things can happen."

Mendanbar had to admit that she was right, though he wasn't happy about it. They set Ballimore's lunch in the middle of the carpet, then rolled the rug around it, folding the fringe carefully to the inside.

Then Cimorene took the front end and Mendanbar picked up the rear, and they started toward the house.

Weaving through three rows of pine trees, they ducked under the low-hanging branches along the outer edge of the grove and emerged in front of the house. It looked, thought Mendanbar, as if it had been put together by the same person who had built his palace, except that instead of too many towers and staircases, this house had too many windows: square windows, round windows, wide windows, tall windows, skinny windows, diamond windows, tiny windows filled with milky glass, enormous picture windows, windows with stained glass pictures of ladies in sweeping robes and birds with gold feathers, open windows with curtains blowing out of them. The roof was made of red tile and skylights, and the chimney had a square block of clear glass in the front side. Even the door had a window in it, right in the middle at about waist height. With only two floors, there were hardly enough walls to hold all the windows, in spite of the way the building sprawled in all directions.

As they drew near, Mendanbar felt a faint aura of power around the house, hanging in the air like mist. He was about to mention it to Cimorene, when he heard yells and shouts of laughter coming from behind the house.

Suddenly a small blonde girl dashed around the corner and stopped short, staring. A slightly larger boy followed in hot pursuit and barely managed to stop in time to avoid a collision. The blonde child looked at him reproachfully, then turned toward the house and shrieked at the top of her voice, "Herman! Herman, there's people."

"Bah!" A deep, cross voice came carrying through the open window beside the door. "I don't want any people. Tell them to go away."

The little girl obediently turned to Cimorene. "Go away, please," she said, and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

"No, thank you," Cimorene responded. "We want to talk to your parents."

"Haven't got any," said the boy. He tilted his head to one side, as if considering, then took off for the house at a dead run. "Herman, they won't go!" he shouted as he ran. "They want parents. They-" His shouting stopped as he dove headfirst through the open window and vanished inside. One of the upstairs windows scraped open, and two older children poked their heads out. At the same time, three small heads appeared at the corner of the house, gazing timidly at Mendanbar and Cimorene.

Cimorene looked at Mendanbar and set her end of the carpet on the ground. Mendanbar put his end down, too, and stepped forward to stand beside her. The children stared at them without speaking.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" the cross voice shouted. The front door of the house flew open and a dwarf stomped out. He was not much taller than the oldest of the children, but his long black beard and muscular arms showed plainly that he was no child. His hair looked like an upside-down black haystack. He glared angrily at Mendanbar.

"I won't do it!" the dwarf declared before either Mendanbar or Cimorene could say anything. "I don't care if it's family tradition, I don't care if you need the money, I don't care if her mother lied and now you have to convince your council, I don't care if your mother is going to turn her into a toad tomorrow if she doesn't perform. I WILL NOT DO IT AND THAT'S FINAL!"

"That's quite all right," Cimorene said. "We don't want you to. We just want-" "I know what you want," the dwarf said, hopping furiously from one foot to the other. "You want a chance to talk me into it.

Well, you won't get one, missy. You should be ashamed to even consider such a thing!"

"She isn't considering it," Mendanbar said. "We're travelers, and we've just stopped to get some directions."

The dwarf paused in midhop. Balancing on one foot, he peered suspiciously at Mendanbar. One of the children giggled. The dwarf glared in the direction of the sound, then turned back to Mendanbar.

"Directions? What sort of directions?" he asked with evident mistrust.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Princess Cimorene and this is King Mendanbar," Cimorene said, "and we're trying to get to the cave where the dragon Falgorn lives."

"Oh, you're after a dramatic rescue," the dwarf said with relief. "I suppose that's all right. But are you sure you know what you're getting into? Dragons are tough."

"No, no," Cimorene said in the exasperated tone of someone who is very tired of correcting the same mistake over and over. "I'm Chief Cook and Librarian for Kazul, the King of the Dragons, and I'm very happy with my job, and I don't want anyone to rescue me."

The dwarfs eyes narrowed. "Then why are you looking for this other dragon?"

"Because I have an urgent message for Kazul, and she's gone to visit Falgorn," Mendanbar explained.

"Huh." The dwarf hesitated, looking from Cimorene to Mendanbar.

"How do I know this isn't some sort of trick?"

"Why should we want to trick you?" Cimorene asked.

"To get me to spin straw into gold for you, you silly girl," the dwarf said. "That's why everyone comes to see me. And look at the thanks I get: children! Hundreds and hundreds of children! Bah!"

The littlest children giggled and pulled their heads back behind the corner as the dwarf spun around. The blonde girl stared solemnly at him for a moment, then took her thumb out of her mouth, ran forward, and gave the dwarf an enormous hug.

"Thank you, Herman," she told the dumbfounded dwarf. She hugged him again and skipped off, apparently tired of listening.

The dwarf smiled foolishly after her. The expression made him look pleasant and almost handsome. After a moment, the dwarf turned back to Cimorene, and his frown returned.