Then a dust devil swung in toward him. He veered to the side to avoid it, but it veered too. He moved the other way, and it matched him. It was following him!

Well, it couldn't hurt him. "Whaaat doo yooo waaant?" he called in ghost accent, realizing that this was something more than a freak of nature.

The whirling cone was replaced by another ghost. "So you are an intruder!" it said, with no ghostly distortion. "Who are you?"

"I'm Prince Dolph of the human folk," he replied. "Who are you?"

The ghost swirled and became devastatingly female. "Well, now, a living man! This is most intriguing."

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"I am the Demoness Metria," she said. "I have had some limited dealings with your benevolent."

"My what?" he asked blankly.

"Your compassionate, gentle, humane," she said crossly.

"Oh, you mean my kind," he said, catching on.

"Whatever. What are you doing here, Prince?"

"I'm looking for Che Centaur, who was foal-napped by a party unknown." Then it occurred to him that the demons could be responsible. Maybe he had said too much!

"Oh, that," she said, disinterested. "He's not here."

"He isn't?"

"No, the goblins took him. I suppose they want him for food, and to feed the little goblins too."

"Feed the little goblin stew?" Dolph asked, horrified.

"Why else would goblins want horsemeat?" "Horsemeat!" he exclaimed. "He's a winged centaur, a unique species!"

"Well, you don't think they want him for his proclivity, do you?"

"His what?"

"His bent, disposition, inclination, penchant, propensity," she said, annoyed.

Dolph concentrated, and after a bit it came to him. "His mind?"

"Whatever. What would a goblin care about that?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Precisely. So you might as well be on your way."

"Wait a minute, demoness! How can I believe you? Maybe you stole Che, and you're trying to distract me!"

She focused her ghostly eyes on him. "Listen, vacuum-head, if I wanted to distract you, I wouldn't bother with words. I have easier ways."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"How old are you, Prince?"

"Fifteen, going on sixteen. What does that have to do with it?"

"And I'm a hundred and fifteen, going on a decade or two more. I lose count. But my age doesn't matter; it's yours that is critical. Do you know how to summon the stork?"

"No! No one will tell me! Not even my Betrothee."

"Your what?"

"My fiancée, girlfriend, promised, engagée."

"Oh, you mean your prospective ball and chain."

"Whatever. Why do you ask?"

"Because it's more fun to pester innocents. Human folk are pretty dull creatures, but ignorant young men are subject to amusing temptations. Maybe I'll keep you with me for a while, so I can entertain myself. It's been a decade or so since I've toyed with a mortal man."

"Oh? Who was that?"

"I forget. An ogre, I think, only he looked like a man. Aristocrat." "What?"

"Patrician, gentleman, esquire."

"Oh, you mean Esk Ogre!"

"Whatever. Why did you ask?"