“I-I was glad to help. Now I must move on to another sector. But we can visit after the war is done.”

  “Gladly,” Nimbus agreed.

  “Map,” Vinia murmured. It appeared, and she touched SALAMANDERS.

  Her venue changed. Vinia was aware that this sequence did not follow the nickelpede one, but was parallel to it, happening at about the same time. That was part of the marvel of multiple personality.

  “Hello again, Vinia,” her host Sali said, sensing her arrival. “We love it here. The grass grows up really fast and dry, just right for burning.”

  “That’s good. I think the trolls are about to attack. I hope you are ready for them.”

  “We are always ready. We are spaced out across the field, ready to fire up. Bring on the trolls!”

  But Vinia was concerned. The goblins had quickly adjusted to the defense and attacked again, prepared. “Do you have a backup plan; in case anything goes wrong?”

  “We have Fiera Fire Cloud. She has turned out to be a lot of fun.”

  Vinia remembered. Fiera had been a key help in getting the salamanders here. “But her specialty is fire, the same as yours. Suppose the trolls bring, well, water bombs?”

  Sali laughed. “Let them try.”

  Vinia looked at the field. The tall grass was waving in a gentle breeze blowing from left to right across the section. The land terminated in a rising cliff on the left, and a crevasse on the right that dropped to unknown depths, impassable except by birds or flying spells. Vinia would have been nervous about living here, lest she absentmindedly wander and step off the brink. But salamanders could cling to the vertical edge, so were not in danger.

  There, at the brink, was Fiera in her sexy bare human form, dancing with abandon. Evidently, she was entertaining herself while waiting for the attack. She of course had nothing to fear from the gulf, because she was a cloud. Wasn’t she concerned about the imminent invasion? She was supposed to be here to help the salamanders defend Thanx, not to disport herself alone.

  “You’ll see,” Sali said, picking up on her thought.

  There was a sound like a filthy breeze, not at all like the pleasant air current of the field. The trolls appeared, running in unlock step. They spilled out onto the field, resembling inferior ogres: shorter, thinner, weaker, less ugly, and not quite as stupid. That last might make them more dangerous. They carried not clubs, but lighter staffs and sticks. Still, they could be plenty of trouble, being larger than human folk and hungry for the taste of flesh, any flesh, no cooking necessary.

  “Haaa!” one cried, spying Fiera. “A damsel in dis-dress.” An accurate observation, to an extent.

  Vinia turned on the webcam and locked it on the trolls.

  The army advanced, bearing right. The creatures’ ugly eyes were on the seemingly oblivious dancing maiden. Oh, did they have plans for her! This must seem to them like a side benefit to the conquest of territory.

  When the charging line reached the center-right side of the field, the salamanders turned on them together, Sali and Vinia among them. They ran back and forth under the cover of the stems, trailing fire. The field blazed up right beside the trolls, the fire intensifying as it ignited the dry grass. It moved to the right, fanned by the breeze.

  Which was where the trolls were, as they closed in on the fire maiden. “Oh, my!” Vinia said appreciatively. “Fiera assumed a form to attract the brutes to the side of the field where the fire would go.”

  “Yes. We can’t control the wind, so we needed a lure. Fiera is perfect.”

  But the trap wasn’t quite perfect. The trolls smelled the smoke and saw the fire coming. They scrambled back to get clear before it caught them. “Bleep!” Vinia swore.

  Soon they were back, now wearing protective suits. They had evidently had some warning and come prepared. The suits might have been made from imported salamander fire ash so they would not burn. The trolls charged through the burning field to get at the bright damsel. The fire did not stop them.

  Vinia knew that the fire spirit could readily escape them. But that would not stop them from charging on through the blazing field to reach Thanx proper. Bleep again.

  “Keep watching,” Sali said.

  Fiera continued dancing as the trolls converged on her. But just as they were about to grab her, she jumped into the air above their heads and puffed into her natural cloud form. They halted, gazing up, maybe hoping to spy a skirt they could peer under. No such luck: she was all smoke and fog.

  The trolls gave it up as a bad job. They turned toward the far side of the field and resumed their advance. This was surely mischief, just as Vinia feared, as the fire ploy had been nullified. Vinia tried desperately to think of something she could suggest to stop them, but her mind stalled.

  “Don’t be concerned,” Sali said. “We have it covered.” Her confidence seemed foolhardy. Maybe salamanders were blessed with permanent optimism, but that could get them squished in battle.

  Then the burning cloud swooped down close to the leading troll, Fiera able to move contrary to the wind. A jag of lightning struck, just missing the creature’s hideous head. The troll jumped back, alarmed. Another jag shot past his rear, almost singeing it. “Quit that, strumpet!” he yelled angrily.

  That gibe must have annoyed Fiera. The third bolt struck the troll’s right foot. The armor was no protection against this. “OoOoo!” he howled, staggering sideways.

  Right off the cliff. “OoOoo!” sounded again, descending, as he fell.

  It didn’t pay to annoy the fire spirit. Vinia was happy that Fiera was on her side. Their friendship was paying off.

  Fiera moved on to the next armored troll. They were unable to move rapidly because of their heavy fireproof suits and were vulnerable to the fiery lightning.

  The remaining trolls got the message. They retreated in a clumsy mass as the grass fire completed its sweep to the cliff. They might have crossed the hot ashes but would still have been vulnerable to the cloud. Their invasion had ended.

  This battle, too, had been won, thanks to Fiera. Vinia was glad to have recruited her.

  “Great show,” she told Sali. “But I have to move on now. See you when the war is over.”

  “Oh, yes,” the salamander agreed.

  Professor Grossclout appeared. “You succeeded here without my help.”

  “It wasn’t my doing. The salamanders had it well organized, and Fiera Fire Cloud was wonderful.”

  “Your modesty becomes you.”

  Vinia didn’t argue the case. “Map.” It appeared. She touched the section marked GHOSTS.

  She was now with Ghorgeous in the newly haunted house. “Oh, hello, Vinia! We have hardly gotten started here; it still looks almost habitable.”

  “That’s all right. There are dragons to stop.”

  “Of course. We wouldn’t want to miss our date with them. Let’s get out there now.” The ghost zoomed through a wall and out into the morning sky. Again, this was parallel to the other sectors, not following them. It felt a bit like traveling an hour back in time.

  Vinia enjoyed seeing the landscape from this vantage. The ghost passed right through the foliage of a nearby tree without hesitating; solid things were immaterial to her. Vinia couldn’t see the other ghosts, but suspected they were doing the same.

  They were just in time. The dragons were already in the sky, having taken less time to arrive than the land-bound creatures. Air travel was faster. “I hope you have a plan,” Vinia said worriedly. “Dragons are tough to stop, and you don’t even have any solid substance. At least not enough to halt a hurtling creature.”

  “Firmed lips and bottoms won’t be very effective on them,” the ghost agreed. “But overnight we worked out what we feel should be a feasible plan of defense.”

  Vinia hoped they were right. The other sectors had been too chancy for her taste.

  A formidable fire-breathing dragon came right at Ghorgeous, not even seeing her. She expanded to dragon size and shape and became fuzzily visible. It was illusion, but it seemed that was relatively easy to do. Vinia turned on the webcam, let it focus, and locked it on. This battle, like the others, was being filmed for posterity.

  Ghorgeous concentrated, not taking any action. “What are you doing?” Vinia asked, concerned.

  “I am reading what passes for his mind, now that he’s in range. It affects my strategy.”

  The dragon’s mind? Fire breathers weren’t known for their smarts, because the heat of their breathing tended to fry their brains.

  It seemed ironic that Thanx was made from the territory of a dragon yet was anathema to other dragons. The reason was its seeming threat to the masculine dominance of the kingdoms. Maybe they were afraid that their own females might start getting ideas of equality and independence and question the patriarchy.

  Now Ghorgeous clarified her dragon image. It became female and older, formidable rather than beautiful, even in dragon terms. A matriarch?

  The male dragon, coming torchingly close, spread his wings sideways, braking in air. “Mother!” he said, surprised. “But you died a decade ago!”

  Vinia wondered how she could hear and understand the dragon’s words. Then she realized that it was the webcam doing it; it had an audio translator. Marvelous device!

  “My body died, but not my spirit,” Ghorgeous replied in the dragon’s fiery voice. “Now get out of here, you rascal, before I toast your tail to a crisp!”

  Vinia understood that this was what the ghost had read in the dragon’s mind. His formidable dead mother, who must have tanned his hide with fire when he misbehaved as a child. The memory of her remained like a hotly focused sunbeam.

  “But this is our invasion. We’re going to burn out the feminists.”

  The matriarch swelled a size larger. “You what?!”

  “They can’t be allowed to spread their poisonous ideas.”

  The dragoness seemed about to detonate. “Poisonous? My moldering scales! I never taught you that garbage. They are standing up for the civil rights of females. It’s high time. You males have been ruining things for far too long.”

  “But—”

  “I’m a female. Didn’t you notice?”

  “But this is different. These females think they’re equal to males.”

  She huffed up another notch. “Equal? Equal? We’re superior, in everything but size!”

  Still he tried to argue, to the extent his shriveled brain permitted. “But size is all that matters to a dragon.”

  Vinia had to admit he had a point there.

  The matriarch’s horrendous face loomed so large it seemed about to chomp him in two. “GET OUT OF HERE, WRETCH, BEFORE I LOSE MY TEMPER!!” Indeed, her whole head was turning white hot.

  The dragon turned tail and fled.

  Vinia was impressed. It seemed that the dragon could not defy even the spirit of his mother. This was an effective strategy.

  All around, the other dragons were retreating similarly. None of them could withstand the fury of the dragon ladies.

  The ghosts did not let them go alone. They pursued; a host of spectral matriarchs bent on correcting errant offspring. Until they came to the dragon castle, where the females awaited the victorious return of their males.

  The males flew right by them, afraid to stop lest their tails get toasted by the angry dragon spirits. But the matriarchs oriented, each on the proper young female, and contacted them mentally. “Hey, Drowsie!” Ghorgeous called.

  The one addressed straightened up, startled, her tail switching nervously. “Who calls me?”

  “Dropsie Dragoness, the spirit mother of your boyfriend. He tried to attack the neighboring queendom, to destroy feminism. I stopped him, because neighbors must live in peace. But the job is incomplete. You must assert your equality. You females are just as good as the males, in fact better in the ways that count, and it is past time for you to recognize it.”

  “But we never oppose our males,” Drowsie protested.

  “That’s your problem. You must bring them into line so that we dragon spirits don’t have to bestir ourselves again. Make them behave!”

  Drowsie remained doubtful, but Ghorgeous kept after her, and gradually the dragoness saw the merit of her case. She would assert herself as an equal.

  All around them, Vinia saw the other dragons in dialogue with their elders. The case was being made. The males would be tamed.

  Finally, the ghosts departed. The job was done, maybe.

  Vinia turned off the webcam. “Good show,” she said. “You really figured it out.”

  “Well, we don’t want rogue dragons toasting our house once we get it properly haunted. Fire is not good for haunts.”

  Ghorgeous was surely correct. “I must move on,” Vinia said. “But we’ll get together, maybe later in the day, maybe with all my contact friends. Physically.”

  “I am eager to meet them. But I will need a host if you want me to be physical.”

  “Welcome to use my body. You shared yours with me, after all.”

  “I will do that,” the ghost agreed.

  Grossclout appeared. “You did it again.”

  “They did it again. It was beautiful the way they handled those dragons.”

  “Just so.” The Demon faded out.

  Vinia braced herself. The next sector was the one she was most apprehensive about, because she just couldn’t see how slow-moving snails could stop speedy gnomes, no matter how confident of success they might be. This was surely the weakest part of the defense perimeter. But she had to be there, to help if she could. Somehow. Even if it was only to call Grossclout to come rescue the situation.

  “Map.” The map appeared. Vinia touched the section marked SNAILS.

  She was back with Snazzy Snail, she of the lovely shell. “Hello, Vinia!” Snazzy said.

  “Hello, Snazzy. Are you ready for the attack?”

  “More than ready. We’ve been working all night. Those gnasty gnomes will be sorry they ever tried.”

  There was that assurance, again. “That’s good,” Vinia agreed weakly.

  The snail picked up on her doubt. “You lack confidence in us?”

  She didn’t want to lie, but the truth would not be nice. “I, uh, am sure you mean well.”

  “A nice evasion. But we really are prepared. You’ll see.”

  Vinia hoped so. She gazed at the lovely field of florescent fennel. What a pity to have that trampled.

  There was the sound of a bugle: a single gnotable gnote. The gnomes were about to attack. Vinia quailed inwardly, but she turned on the webcam. What would be, would be.

  The gnomes appeared at the edge of the field, in formation, carrying their little swords. Each gnome was about one human foot tall, wearing a pointed cap, with a long white beard. They did not look impressive, but Vinia knew they could walk through deep rock, albeit slowly. Obviously, they felt no need of that here, so were traveling on the surface for the sake of convenience and speed. What was there to stop them?

  They advanced about a quarter of the way into the field, half hidden by the fennel. Then they halted. This was evidently not intentional, because the ones behind the front row collided with them, and there was a jam, then a pileup. What was the matter?

  “Stickum,” Snazzy said.

  Indeed, Vinia saw now that the gnomes’ feet were stuck to the ground. They were struggling to lift them clear, but bands of glue pulled them back. The ones behind tried to circle around them, only to get their own feet similarly anchored. And as the ones farther behind tramped impatiently, their feet also got stuck.

  “We set ourselves in a quadrant,” Snazzy said. “We traversed each little square of it, making sure that there was no way to avoid it. Some is fast-acting stickum; some is slow. The ones in front encountered the fast acting; the ones behind, the slow acting. All are equally stuck. They got well into it before they realized.”

  “But can’t they just walk down into and below the ground, escaping it?”

  “They can walk into the ground, yes, but their feet will still be stuck where they are. They can’t go far.”

  “Suppose they take off their boots?”

  “And put their bare feet on the stickum? They know better than that.”

  Indeed, the gnomes were not stepping out of their boots. They had fallen into the trap but were not making it worse.

  Snazzy and the other snails were ranged by the sides of the field, watching the proceedings. It seemed that their projecting antenna could pick up the sounds and images well enough.

  Now the gnomides, the gnome females, appeared at the edge of the field. They were rather pretty little figures, with pointed feminine hats instead of masculine caps, and colorful dresses. They assessed the situation. Then one brought out a lasso, whirled it around her head, and hurled it at the nearest stuck gnome. The loop settled neatly around his torso, and he gripped it with his hands. Then the gnomide started to pull. She was stronger than she looked; the cord stretched tight. The gnome leaned but did not get free of the stickum. She enlisted friends, and several of them grabbed onto the rope and hauled.

  Slowly the gnome’s boots left the ground as he was pulled sideways. The elastic stickup elongated, stretching and thinning as the gnome was tediously hauled across the field, through the fennel, to the edge, where the gnomides grabbed hold of him. Now he was free to remove his boots. He did so, and they snapped back to where they had been, standing by themselves.

  So the gnomides had done it. They had in the course of half an hour freed the closest soldier. At this rate it would take them several days to free them all, and the last saved gnomes would get hungry and thirsty long before they were rescued.

  “I think we have made our point,” Snazzy said with satisfaction.

  They had indeed. “But suppose they attack again, this time underground?”

  “We buried some stickum too. They’ll have trouble avoiding it. And of course, we’ll be guarding the ground where they would be coming up again, slowly. We’ll be ready to smear stickum all over them. I doubt they’ll try it; it’s not worth the effort.”