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start. She approached the fire and put her front feet forward, trying to ignite the rope that hobbled her. But the blaze was too fierce; she could not get close enough to burn the rope without burning herself.
    She turned about and tried to scrape dirt onto the blaze with a hind hoof. But the ground was too solid; she could not get a good gouge. She seemed helpless.
    Then a shape appeared. Some large animal was stomping beyond the wall of the pen, out of the firelight. A dragon, come to take advantage of a horse who could only hobble along?
    She sent an exploratory dreamlet. “Who are you?”
    “Is it safe?” an equine thought came in the dream.
    It was the day horse! Imbri quelled her surprise and pleasure at his presence and projected another dreamlet. “Stay clear, stallion! The Horseman is looking for you!”
    “I—know,” the horse replied slowly. She wasn’t certain whether it was dullness or caution that made him seem less than smart. She understood that Mundane animals were not terrifically intelligent, and the Horseman had said as much.
    “He wants to catch you and ride you again,” she sent, making her dream image resemble a centaur, so as to seem more equine while retaining the ability to speak clearly. Of course horses had their own language, but overt neighing and other sounds might wake up the henchman.
    “I—hide,” the day horse replied, beginning to catch on to this mode of dialogue. He stepped up to the fence and looked over, his head bright in the firelight.
    “Well, go hide now, because if that henchman wakes—”
    “You—greet me,” he said in the dream, awkwardly. “I run. You—caught by man. My fault. I came—free you.”
    Imbri was moved. She had pictured him in the dream as a white centaur, and he seemed to like the form. She had made sure it was a very muscular and handsome centaur, knowing that males tended to be vain about their appearance. Males of any species were foolish in a number of respects. But what would Xanth be like without them?
    “I can’t get away as long as that fire burns,” her dream filly image said. “I had hoped there would be a rainstorm, but—”
    “Rainstorm?”
    “Water, to douse the fire,” she explained. Sure enough, he was the strong, handsome, amiable, stupid type. Fortunately, stallions didn’t need brains; they were attractive as they were.
    “Douse fire!” he said, understanding. “Make water.” He jumped over the pen wall, landing with such a thump that Imbri had to jam a dream of an earthquake at the sleeping henchman to prevent him from being alarmed. Of course he was alarmed, but then she modified the dream to show that the earthquake had been weak and brief, and had cracked open the ground in front of him to reveal a treasure chest filled with whatever it was he most desired. The henchman quickly opened the chest, and out sprang a lovely nude nymph. He would remain asleep for a long time!
    The day horse walked over to the burning logs, angled his body, and urinated on the flames. Clouds of steamy smoke flared up as the fire hissed angrily. It certainly did not appreciate this treatment!
    The new noise disturbed the henchman despite his dream. He started to awaken. This time Imbri sent a mean dream at him, showing the merest suggestion of a basilisk the size of a horse, swinging around to glare at the man. The Mundane immediately squinched his eyes tightly closed; he knew what happened when one traded gazes with a bask! He did not want to wake and see the monster. Imbri let him drift off again, returning to his treasure-chest nymph; Imbri was as relieved as he to see him sleep.
    In a moment the fire had sizzled down enough to let the shadows reach out to Imbri. She phased through her hobbles and the wall of the pen. The day horse leaped to follow her.
    They ran through the forest. “Come with me to Castle Roogna!” Imbri projected, her filly image smiling gladly and swishing her black tail in friendly fashion.
    But the day horse