He ducked around another corner-and smacked into a needle-cactus. Not a real one, or he would have become a human pincushion; a mock one.

       The cactus reached down with a prickly branch and gripped Bink by the neck. "Clumsy oaf!" it snorted. "Do you wish me to prettify your ugly face in the mud?"

       Bink recognized that voice and that grip. "Chester!" he rasped past the constriction in his neck. "Chester Centaur!"

       "Horseflies!" Chester swore. "You tricked me into giving myself away!" He eased his terrible grip slightly. "But now you'd better tell me who you are, or I might squeeze you like this." He squeezed, and Bink thought his head was going to pop off his body. Where was his talent now?

       "Fink! Fink!" Bink squeaked, trying to pronounce his name when his lips would not quite close. "Stink!"

       "I do not stink!" Chester said, becoming irritated. That made his grip tighten. "Not only are you homely as hell, you're impertinent." Then he did a double take. "Hey-you're wearing my face!"

       Bink had forgotten: he was in costume. The centaur's surprise caused him to relax momentarily, and Bink snatched his opportunity. "I'm Bink! Your friend! In illusion guise!"

       Chester pondered. No centaur was stupid, but this one tended to think with his muscles. "If you're trying to fool me-"

       "Remember Herman the hermit? How I met him in the wilderness, and he saved Xanth from the wiggle swarm with his will-o'-the-wisp magic? The finest centaur of them all!"

       Chester finally put Bink down. "Uncle Herman," be agreed, smiling. The effect was horrendous on the cactus-face. "I guess you're okay. But what are you doing in my form?"

       "The same thing you're doing in cactus form," Bink said, massaging his throat. "Attending the masquerade ball." His neck did not seem to be damaged, so his talent must have let this encounter be.