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started back the way she had come.
    And discovered that the scene behind her had changed. Now there was an open door leading into an inner chamber. Was this the true inner castle, or another trick? Well, she would find out. She stepped through the door.
    A woman met her. “Well spoken, Debra,” she said. “I am Wira, the Good Magician’s daughter-in-law. I will take you to see his wife, the Gorgon.”
    “The Gorgon! The one whose face turns people to stone?”
    “She wears a veil,” Wira assured her. “Please, this is important.”
    It could also be another trick. But there seemed to be no harm in playing along for the moment. “I came to see the Good Magician, not to socialize.”
    “This is business,” Wira assured her. “This way, please.”
    The woman led her to what appeared to be the castle kitchen. There was a woodstove that somehow wasn’t burning itself up, an icebox whose ice somehow was not melting, and a table with appetizers. It looked rather mundane despite the magic of the equipment.
    A tall veiled woman with extremely odd hair stood by the table. In fact her hair looked snaky. “Mother Gorgon, this is Debra, the querent,” Wira said.
    “I’m not queer!” Debra snapped.
    The Gorgon smiled under her veil. “Naturally not, dear. That’s querent as in a query, normally magical in nature. It’s a technical term we find useful. No offense is implied.”
    “Oh.” Debra found herself blushing. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. If there is any embarrassment to be had, it is ours rather than yours. I will explain in a moment.” She gestured to the table. “Have some refreshments, Debra. You must be hungry.”
    Actually, she was; she hadn’t eaten since raiding a pie plant in the morning before approaching the castle. But she remained cautious, because there was something about this situation that didn’t quite jibe. “I don’t know what to take. What do you recommend?”
    “Well, there’s boot rear, which is good though you will get a kick out of it.” The Gorgon took up a paper cup brimming with brownish liquid.
    Actually Debra knew about boot rear, having encountered it before. It was clearly a pun on root beer, with a magical quality. She accepted the cup and took a sip. Sure enough, she got lightly booted in the rear. Some drinks made a person dizzy; this one, as the Gorgon said, had a kick to it.
    “And biscuits with monster cheese,” the Gorgon continued, proffering one. “Monsters have the very best taste in cheese.”
    Debra nibbled at it. Again the woman was right: this was excellent cheese. Soon she was eating and drinking freely, rather enjoying the boots to her bottom. Boot rear was an acquired taste, and she was acquiring it. But she was also comfortable with the amitea and the punwheel cookies. Wira sat at the table with them, silent.
    “Normally Magician Humfrey grants a querent an Answer, and requires her to perform a year’s Service, or equivalent,” the Gorgon said as Debra ate. “But we have a crisis that requires a different mode this time.”
    “Something happened to the Good Magician?” Debra asked, alarmed.
    “Not directly. His Book of Answers got scrambled, and he is deeply embroiled in putting it back in order. Until he accomplishes that, it is useless. So he will be unable to give you your Answer at present.”
    “You mean I went through all this nonsense for nothing?” Debra demanded.
    “We hope not,” the Gorgon said. “We may have an alternative.”
    “But nobody has answers as good as the Good Magician’s,” Debra protested. “Even if they don’t seem relevant at first.”
    “Dear, I know exactly what you mean,” the Gorgon said. “Some time back I was smitten with Humfrey, and I came to ask him whether he would marry me. Do you know, he made me serve a year’s Service keeping his castle before he gave me his answer?”
    “He what?” Debra asked, almost choking on a piece of monsterella cheese.
    “But you see, it did make sense.