The four children heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Puck frowned up at the horse. 'Tell us, then, O Fount' of

Wisdom—how shall four children and an elf do battle with a dragon?"

"Do not forget the unicorn." Fess turned to look at Cordelia's mount. "It is a dragon's natural enemy, according to tradition."

Gregory stared. "Thou dost not mean to say that, because the dragon came, the unicorn appeared to battle it!"

Fess was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. "It is possible. Given the buried powers of the people of Gramarye and the potentialities of the environment—yes. It could have happened as you say."

"But the unicorn could not oppose the dragon by herself!" Cordelia cried. "Surely she is too delicate!"

"Do not underestimate her," Fess advised. "The legends say the unicorn had great strength."

"Yet there's truth in what Cordelia doth say." Geoffrey frowned. "This unicorn knew she stood in need of aid to fight so fearsome a monster—and therefore sought us out."

"But how could she have known of us, if she is but newly come?" Cordelia demanded.

They looked at each other, puzzled. As for Puck and Fess, if they suspected the answer, they kept it to themselves.

Then Magnus shrugged. "However 'twas, she knew of us. Can we not then lend her the aid that she doth seek?"

"We can," Puck said slowly, "but I've some doubt as to our powers. Mayhap all the elves in Gramarye could overwhelm the dragon—but there would be grievous losses. I misdoubt me an we poor few could bring it to defeat—and I'm loathe to try. If one of thou wast hurt, children, thy mother and father would ne'er forgive me. There might yet be elves in Gramarye, but the Puck would not be amongst them!"

Geoffrey scowled. "Surely thou art not afeard!"

"Nay, but I've some small amount of sense."

"He speaks wisely," Fess agreed. "We are too few to overcome such a monster by brute force—and you, children, might well be killed in the attempt. If we are to assist the unicorn and fight the dragon, it must be by trickery."

Cordelia, Magnus, and Geoffrey just stared at each other —but Gregory plumped down cross-legged and closed his eyes.

Geoffrey frowned. "What doth he? 'Tis no time to…"

"Hush!" Magnus held up a hand, palm outward. "Let him be!"

Gregory opened his eyes. " 'Tis his flame. An we put out his fire, he will sleep for an hundred years or more—until one doth give him flame again."

Geoffrey stared.

Magnus asked, carefully, "Whence cometh this knowledge?"

"Why, from Vidor."

"Vidor!" Cordelia stepped over to him, fists on her hips. "Thine imaginary friend? Are we to go to battle with naught but the advice of a dream?"

"He is no dream!" Gregory's face puckered in a scowl. "Vidor is real!"

"Then how is't none but thee ever doth see him?" Geoffrey gibed.

"Why, for that he's not here."

Geoffrey threw up his hands. "He is not here. Ever dost thou tell us he is real—yet he is not here!"

"I've never said he's here!" Gregory insisted. "He cannot be—he's in Tir Chlis!"

His brothers and sister were instantly silent, staring at him. Tir Chlis was the magical land they had all been kidnapped to when Gregory was a baby.

"There was a babe," Magnus said softly, "the son of Lord Kern, the High Warlock of that land;"

"The man who looked so like our Papa," Cordelia agreed, "and whose baby son was the image of our Gregory."

"He yet is," Gregory said helpfully. "He looked into a mirror for me, and I looked out through his eyes. I might have been gazing at myself."

"When Mama was in Tir Chlis, she could hear Gregory's mind." Magnus was watching his littlest brother. "She could hear him when she held Lord Kern's babe."

"Aye," Cordelia breathed, "because Gregory's mind did reach across the emptiness between our world and Tir Chlis, to blend with the babe's."

"It is all impossible," Fess sighed, "but since you children, and your parents, have experienced it, I cannot but acknowledge that it may have happened."

"And if it did, then why should Gregory not have continual conference with this Lord Kern's son?" Puck's gaze didn't waver from Gregory's face. "How sayest thou, O Beast of Cold Iron? Is there no absurd word for this?"

"There is, though it's not absurd," Fess said stiffly. "Lord

Kern's son is Gregory's analog, in an alternate universe."

"And could he indeed advise our Gregory as to dragons— this 'analog'?"

"His name is Vidor!" Gregory cried.

"Yes. Vidor is your analog in Tir Chlis." Fess nodded. "And he could give you information about dragons—if there are dragons in Tir Chlis."

"Oh, there are! Their knights have had to fight them for ever so long!"

The others exchanged glances again. "Ought we to believe it?" Geoffrey asked.

"Certes thou shouldst! Vidor would not fib to me!"

"'Tis difficult to do so, when another hears thy thoughts," Magnus agreed, "and I see no harm in making the attempt."

"No harm!" bawled his baby sitter. "When thou and thy brothers and sister could but serve as kindling for his flame? When this dragon may but roast thee first, and taste thee later? No harm!!?.'"

"Nay," said Magnus, "for how doth one put out a dragon's flame?"

They all looked at one another, at a loss.

Then Fess said, "With water.".

"Aye, certes!" Cordelia beamed. "Thou lads can all make things to disappear, and appear again in different places! Thou canst wisk small boulders inside trees—for I've seen thee do it, for no better reason than to watch them fly apart with great explosions!"

"Thou hast what?" Puck cried, scandalized. Trees were very special to elves.

"'Twas but an idle prank." Magnus couldn't meet Puck's gaze, "A foolish notion, and deeply do I regret it." And how he regretted it—when the treetop fell, it had almost crushed him. "But boulders will not damp a dragon's flame." .

"Nay, but water will, as Fess doth say." Gregory's eyes lit with enthusiasm. "And if we can Whisk boulders about, we can do the same with gobs of water!"

Magnus and Geoffrey looked at each other. Magnus lifted his eyebrows. Geoffrey shrugged, and closed his eyes, tilting his head back.

There was a loud CRACK! and a three-foot shimmering ball appeared right above Cordelia's head. An instant later, it fell apart with a huge splash, drenching her from head to toe.

"Oh! Thou curmudgeon!" she cried, and a glob of soot

flew from the nearest burned-out house to strike Geoffrey right in the face. "Thou shrew!" he shouted, and leaped at Cordelia.

But Magnus jumped in between them, slamming his body against Geoffrey's. The younger boy tumbled to the ground. "Nay!" Big Brother said. "'Tis the dragon we must fight, not one another!"

"But she hath soiled my doublet past believing! Mama will have my hide!"

"Pear not," Magnus assured him, "I'll wash it for thee," and with a CRACK! another globe of water appeared over Geoffrey and, with a SPLOOSH! surged down over him. He floundered to his feet, sputtering in rage, while Cordelia laughed in delight. Geoffrey glared at Magnus, but Big Brother said, "Nay, hold! Ere thou dost bethink thee of any more mischief, consider—thy tunic's cleaned, and thou hast still a dragon to fight."

Geoffrey calmed instantly, and even began to smile again. The thought of a good fight always cheered him up.

They drifted up the rocky hillside, following the dragon's trail. Scorched earth and cracked rocks showed where the monster had passed.

"Is he still so angered, that he must needs blast at all that doth come within his path?" Geoffrey wondered.

Magnus chewed at his lip. "Thou dost bethink thee that he must needs breathe fire out of anger."

"Why, certes," Geoffrey said in surprise. "I would."