The Source of Magic

Bink knew he had been lucky-and that this was genuine luck, not his talent at work. But the problem with such luck was that it played no favorites; the next break could go against him. He had to wrap this up before such a break occurred.

But the Magician had had lime to rummage among more vials. He was looking for something, having trouble locating it amid the jumble. But each failure left him fewer vials to choose from, and a correspondingly greater chance of success. As Bink turned on him again, a set of long winter underwear formed, and several tattered comic books, and a wooden stepladder, a stink bomb, and a gross of magic writing quills. Bink had to laugh.

"Bink-watch out!" Chester cried.

"It's only a lady's evening gown," Bink said, glancing at the next offering. "No harm in it."

"Behind it is an evil eye!" Chester cried.

Trouble! That was what Humfrey had been searching for! Bink grabbed the gown, using it as a shield against the nemesis beyond.

A beam of light shot out, passed him-and scored on the centaur. Half-stunned, Chester reeled-and the griffin dived in for the kill. His beak stabbed at Chester's blinded eyes, forcing the centaur to prance backward.

"No!" Bink screamed.

Again, too late. Bink realized that he must have leaned on his talent a long time, so that his reactions to chance happenings were slow. Chester's rear hooves stepped off the ledge. The centaur gave a great neighing cry of dismay and tumbled rear first into the evil water of the lake.

The water closed murkily over Chester's head. Without further sound or struggle, the centaur disappeared below. Bink's friend and ally was gone.

There was no time for remorse. Humfrey had found another vial. "I have you now, Bink! This one contains sleeping potion!" he cried, holding it up.

Bink did not dare charge him, because the evil eye still hovered between them, balked only by the evening gown Bink held as a feeble shield. He could see the eye's outline vaguely through the filmy cloth, and had to maneuver constantly to avoid any direct visual contact with it. Yet that sleeping potion would not be stopped by mere cloth!

"Yield, Bink!" Humfrey cried. "Your ally is gone, my ally hovers behind you, the eye holds you in check, and the sleeping potion can reach you where you stand. Yield, and the coral grants you your life!"

Bink hesitated-and felt the swish of air as the griffin flew at him from behind. Bink whirled, seeing the nymph standing nearby, petrified with terror, and he knew that even as the brain coral made the offer of clemency with one mouth, it was betraying that offer with action.

Until this point Bink had been fighting a necessary if undesired battle. Now, abruptly, he was angry. His friend gone, himself betrayed-what reason had he now to stay his hand? "Look, then, at the evil eye!" Bink cried at Crombie, whipping away the gown as he faced away from the menace. Instantly Crombie turned his head away, refusing to look. Bink, still in his rage, charged the griffin with his sword.

Now it was claw and beak against sword-with neither party daring to glance toward the Magician. Bink waved the bright gown as a distraction while he sliced at the griffin's head, then wrapped the material about his left arm as a protection against the claws. Crombie could attack only with his left front leg; his tattered wings did not provide sufficient leverage for close maneuvering, so he had to stand on his hind legs. Still, he had the deadly body of a griffin, and the combat-trained mind of a soldier, and he was as clever and ferocious an enemy as Bink had ever faced. Crombie knew Bink, was long familiar with his mannerisms, and was himself a more competent swordsman than Bink. In fact, Crombie had been Bink's instructor. Though as a griffin he carried no sword, there was no maneuver Bink could make that Crombie did not know and could not counter. In short, Bink found himself overmatched.

But his anger sustained him. He attacked the griffin determinedly, slicing at legs and head, stabbing at the body, forcing his opponent to face the evil eye. He swung the gown to entangle Crombie's good wing, then screamed terribly and launched his shoulder into Crombie's bright breast. Bink was as massive as the griffin; his crudely hurtling weight bore Crombie back toward the deadly water. But it was useless; just as Bink thought he had gained the advantage, Crombie slid sidewise and let Bink stumble toward the water alone.

Bink tried to brake, and almost succeeded. He teetered on the brink. And saw-the golem Grundy, astride the still-floating bottle, now quite near the shore. "Fish me out, Bink!" the golem cried. "The poison can't hurt me, but I'm beginning to dissolve. Look out!"

At the warning, Bink dropped flat, his face landing bare inches from the water. Crombie passed over him, having missed his push, spreading his wings to sail out over the dark lake. Grundy scooped one tiny hand through the water, splashing a few drops up to splatter the griffin's tail-and immediately that tail drooped. The water was deadly, all right!

Crombie made a valiant effort, flapping so vigorously that he rose up out of range of the splashing.

Then he glided to the far side of the lake and crash-landed, unable to control his flight well because of the defeathered wing and stunned tail. Bink used the respite to extend his sword to the golem, who grabbed the point and let himself be towed to shore.

Then Bink remembered: Grundy had freed Humfrey and Crombie-in the name of the enemy. The golem was also a creature of the brain coral. Why was he siding with Bink, now?

Two possibilities: first, the coral might have only borrowed the golem, then released him, so that Grundy had reverted to Bink's camp. Yet in that case, the coral could take over the golem again at any time, and Grundy was not to be trusted. In the heat of battle the coral might have forgotten Grundy, but as that battle simplified, that would change. Second, Grundy might remain an agent of the enemy right now. In that case-

But why should the coral try to fool Bink this way? Why not just finish him off without respite? Bink didn't know, but it occurred to him it might be his smartest course to play along, to pretend to be fooled. The enemy might have some weakness Bink hadn't fathomed, and if he could figure it out, using the golem as a clue-

The soldier had not given up. Unable to turn in the air because of his disabled guidance system, Crombie oriented himself on land, got up speed, and took off across the lake again.

"Don't touch me-I'm steeped in poison!" Grundy cried. "I'll spot the eye for you, Bink. You concentrate on-"

Glad for the little ally despite his doubts, Bink did. As the griffin sailed at him, Bink leaped up, making a two-handed strike directly overhead with his sword. Crombie, unable to swerve, took the slash on his good wing. The blade cut through the feathers and muscle and tendon and bone, half-severing the wing.

Crombie fell to the ground-but he was not defeated. He squawked and bounced to his feet, whirling and leaping at Bink, front claw extended. Surprised at the soldier's sheer tenacity, Bink fell away, tripped over an irregularity in the rock, and landed on his back. As the griffin landed on him, beak plunging for his face, Bink shoved his sword violently upward.

This time it was no wing he scored on, but the neck. Blood spurted out, soaking him, burning hot. This had to be a mortal wound-yet still the griffin fought, slashing with three feet, going for Bink's gut.

Bink rolled from under, dragging his sword with him. But it snagged on a bone and was wrenched out of his hand. Instead he threw himself on Crombie's neck from behind, wrapping both arms about the spilling neck, choking it, trying to break it. Until this moment Bink could not have imagined himself killing his friend-but the vision of Chester's demise was burning in his mind, and he had become an almost mindless killer.

Crombie gave a tremendous heave and threw him off. Bink dived in again, grabbing for the legs as Chester had, catching a hind one. Such a tactic could never have worked on the soldier in his human form, for Crombie was an expert hand-to-hand fighter; but he was in animal form, unable to use much of his highly specialized human expertise. To prevent the griffin from reorienting, Bink hauled hard on that leg, putting his head down and dragging the form across the rock.

"Don't look!" Grundy cried. "The eye is ahead of you!"

Could he trust the golem? Surely not-yet it would be foolish to risk looking where the eye might be. Bink closed his eyes, took a new grasp, and with his greatest exertion yet, heaved the griffin over his head and forward. Crombie flew through the air-and didn't land. He was flying again, or trying to! Bink had only helped launch him; no wonder the griffin had not resisted that effort!

"The eye is circling, coming in toward your face!" Grundy cried.

To believe, or not to believe? The first demonstrably false statement the golem made would betray his affiliation. So probably Grundy would stick to the truth as long as he could. Bink could trust him because he was an enemy agent, ironic as that seemed. He kept his eyes closed and shook out his robe. "Where?"

"Arm's length in front of you!" Bink spread the gown, held it in both hands, and leaped. He carried the material across and down. "You got it!" the golem cried. "Wrap it up, throw it in the lake!" And Bink did. He felt the tugging within the gown, and felt the slight mass of the captive eye; the golem had spoken truly. He heard the splash, and cautiously opened one eye. The gown was floating, but it was soaked through; anything caught in it would be finished.

Now he could look about. Crombie had flown only a short distance, and had fallen into a small crevasse; he was now wedged in its base, prevented by his wounds and weakness from rising. But the Magician had remained active. "One step, and I loose the sleeping potion!" he cried.

Bink had had enough. "If you loose it, you will be the first affected!" he said, striding toward Humfrey. "I can hold my breath as long as you can!" His sword was on the floor, where it had dropped from the griffin's wounds. Bink paused to pick it up, wiping some of the blood off against his own clothing, and held it ready. "In any event I doubt it takes effect before I reach you. And if it does, the golem will not be affected. What side will he be on then? He's part real, you know; the coral can never be certain of its control."

The Magician jerked the cork out, refusing to be bluffed. The vapor issued. Bink leaped forward, swinging his sword as the substance coalesced-and struck a small bottle.

A bottle materializing from a bottle? "Oh, no!" Humfrey cried. "That was my supply of smart-pills, lost for this past decade!"

What irony! The Magician had absentmindedly filed his smart-pills inside another bottle, and without them had been unable to figure out where he had put them. Now, by a permutation of the war of talents, they had shown up-at the wrong time.

Bink touched the Magician's chest with the point of his sword. "You don't need any smart-pill to know what will happen if you do not yield to me now."

Humfrey sighed. "It seems I underestimated you, Bink. I never supposed you could beat the griffin."

Bink hoped never to have to try it again! If Crombie hadn't already been tired and wounded-but no sense worrying about what might have been. "You serve an enemy master. I can not trust you. Yield, and I will require one service of you, then force you back into the bottle until my quest is complete. Otherwise I must slay you, so as to render your brain coral helpless." Was this a bluff? He did not want to kill the Magician, but if the battle renewed…"Choose!"

Humfrey paused, evidently in communion with some other mind. "Goblins can't come; too bright, and besides, they hate the coral. No other resources in range. Can't counter your check." He paused again. Bink realized the term "check" related to the Mundane game King Trent sometimes played, called chess; a check was a direct personal threat. An apt term.

"The coral is without honor," Humfrey continued. "But I am not. I thought my prior offer to you was valid; I did not know the griffin would attack you then."

"I would like to believe you," Bink said, his anger abating but not his caution. "I dare not. I can only give you my word about my intent."

"Your word is better than mine, in this circumstance. I accept your terms."

Bink lowered the sword, but did not put it away. "And what of the golem?" he demanded. "Whose side is he on?"

"He-is one of us, as you surmised. You tricked me into acknowledging that by my reaction a moment ago. You are very clever in the clutch, Bink."

"Forget the flattery! Why was Grundy helping me?"

"The coral told me to," the golem answered.

"It doesn't make sense for the coral to fight itself! If you'd fought on Crombie's side, he might have beaten me!"

"And he might still have lost," Humfrey said. "The coral, too, had seriously underestimated you, Bink. It thought that once it canceled out your talent-which remains horribly strong and devious, forcing constant attention-you could readily be overcome by physical means. Instead you fought with increasing savagery and skill as the pressure mounted. What had seemed a near-certainty became dubious. Thus the chance of the coral prevailing by force diminished, while the chance of prevailing by reason increased."

"Reason!" Bink exclaimed incredulously.

"Accordingly, the coral delegated the golem to be your Mend-the coral's agent in your camp. Then if you won the physical battle, and I were dead, you would be prepared to listen to this friend."

"Well, I'm not prepared," Bink said. "I never trusted Grundy's change of sides, and would have thrown him back into the lake the moment he betrayed me. At the moment I have more important business. Find the vial containing the healing elixir. I know that has not yet been opened."

The Magician squatted, picking through the remaining vials. "This one."

"Jewel!" Bink snapped.

Timidly the nymph stepped toward him. "I'm afraid of you when you're like this, Bink."

And she had been afraid during the battle. He could have used her help when the evil eye was stalking him, instead of having to rely on the extremely questionable aid of the golem. She was an all-too-typical nymph in this respect, incapable of decisive action in a crisis. Chameleon had been otherwise, even in her stupidest phase; she had acted to save him from harm, even sacrificing herself. He loved them both-but he would stay with Chameleon.

"Take this vial and sprinkle a drop on the griffin," he directed her.

She was startled. "But-"

"Crombie may be controlled by the enemy, and because of that he did a horrible thing, but he is my friend. I'm going to cure him, and have the Magician put him back in the bottle, along with himself, until this is over."

"Oh." She took the vial and headed for the broken griffin. Bink nudged the Magician forward with the point of his sword, and they followed Jewel more slowly. Humfrey had told Bink he had won, but Bink knew it was not over yet. Not until the Magician and griffin and golem were back in the bottle, and Bink had control of that bottle. And the coral would do its best to keep them out of that bottle.

Jewel paused at the brink of the crevice, looking down. Her free hand went to her mouth in a very feminine gesture that Bink found oddly touching. No, not oddly; he loved her, therefore he reacted in a special manner even to her minor mannerisms. But intellectually he knew better. "He's all blood!" she protested.

"I can't take my attention from the Magician," Bink said, and added mentally: or the golem. "If that vial does not contain the healing elixir, I shall slay him instantly." Bold words, bolstering his waning drive. "You have to apply it. We need that griffin to point out the location of the antidote to the love potion."

"I-yes, of course," she said faintly. She fumbled at the cork. "He's-there's so much gore-where do I-?"

Crombie roused himself partially. His eagle head rotated weakly on the slashed neck, causing another gout of blood to escape. "Squawk!"

"He says don't do it," Grundy translated. "Hell only have to kill you."

Bink angled his sword so that the blade reflected a glint of nova-starlight into the griffin's glazing eyes. The sunflower had been brighter, but now was fading; its harvest time was approaching. "I don't expect honor in a creature of the enemy, or gratitude for a favor rendered," he said grimly. "I have made a truce of sorts with the brain coral, and I enforce it with this sword. Crombie will obey me implicitly-or the Magician dies. Doubt me if you will."

How could they fail to doubt him, when he doubted himself? Yet if violence broke out again, he would not simply let the coral take over.

Crombie turned his tortured gaze on Humfrey. "What Bink says is true," the Magician said. "He has defeated us, and now requires service in exchange for our lives. The coral accedes. Perform his service, and suffer confinement in the bottle-or I will die and you will have to fight him again."

The griffin squawked once more, weakly. "What is the service?" Grundy translated.

"You know what it is!" Bink said. "To point out the nearest, safest love-reversal magic." Were they stalling, waiting for the sunflower to fade all the way so the goblins could come?

Another squawk. Then the noble head fell to the floor. "He agrees, but he's too weak to point," Grundy said.

"We don't really need the antidote…" Jewel said.

"Get on with it," Bink grated. He had deep cuts where the griffin's claws had raked his body, and he was desperately tired, now that the violent part of the action had abated. He had to wrap this up before he collapsed. "Sprinkle him!"

Jewel finally got the bottle open. Precious fluid sprayed out, splattering her, the rocks, and the griffin. One drop struck the golem, who was suddenly cured of his partially dissolved state. But none of it landed on Bink, with what irony only the coral knew for sure.

Crombie lifted his body free of the crevice. Bright and beautiful again, he spread his wings, turning to orient on Bink. Bink's muscles tensed painfully; he held the Magician hostage, but if the griffin attacked now-

Jewel jumped between Bink and Crombie. "Don't you dare!" she cried at the griffin. There was the odor of burning paper.

For a long moment Crombie looked at her, his colorful wings partially extended, beating slowly back and forth. She was such a slip of a girl, armed only with the bottle of elixir; there was no way she could balk the magnificent animal. Indeed, her body trembled with her nervousness; one squawk and she would collapse in tears.

Yet she had made the gesture, Bink realized. This was an extraordinary act for a true nymph. She had tried to stand up for what she believed in. Could he condemn her because her courage was no greater than her strength?

Then Crombie rotated, extended one wing fully, and pointed. Toward the lake.

Bink sighed. "Conjure him into the bottle," he told the Magician. "Do it right the first time. If you try to conjure me, you're dead."

There was a delay while Jewel fetched the bottle from the edge of the lake, where it still floated. She had to scoop it up carefully, not letting the moisture touch her skin, then dry it off and set it within range of the Magician.

Humfrey performed his incantation. The griffin dissolved into vapor and siphoned into the bottle. Belatedly it occurred to Bink that Humfrey could have done the same to Bink, anytime during their battle-had he thought of it. The loss of those smart-pills must really have hurt! Yet it was hard to think of the obvious, when being stalked by a sword. And-the best bottle, the demon's residential one, had not been available, then.

"Now your turn," Bink told the Magician, "Into the same bottle-you and the golem."

"The coral is reconsidering," Humfrey said. "It believes that if you knew the full story, you would agree with the coral's viewpoint. Will you listen?"

"More likely the coral is stalling until more of its minions can arrive," Bink said, thinking again of the goblins. They might not get along well with the brain coral, but if some kind of deal were made

"But it knows the location and nature of the source of magic!" Humfrey said. "Listen, and it will guide you there."

"Guide me there first, then I will listen!"

"Agreed."

"Agreed?"

"We trust you, Bink."

"I don't trust you. But all right-I'll make the deal. I hope I'm not making a fatal mistake. Show me the source of magic-and not with any one-word riddle I can't understand-then tell me why the brain coral has tried so hard to stop me from getting there."

"First, I suggest you imbibe a drop of the healing elixir yourself," the Magician said.

Startled, Jewel turned. "Oh, Bink-you should have been the first to have it!"

"No," Bink said. "It might have been the sleeping potion."

Humfrey nodded. "Had I attempted to betray you, it would have shown when the griffin was treated," he said. "You maneuvered to guard against betrayal most efficiently. I must say, even with your talent canceled out, you have managed very well. You are far removed from the stripling you once were."

"Aren't we all," Bink growled, hand still on sword.

Jewel sprinkled a drop of elixir on him. Instantly his wounds healed, and he was strong again. But his suspicion of the Good Magician did not ease.

Chapter 12

Demon Xanth

"On his way," Humfrey said. Bink kept his sword drawn as he followed the Magician. Jewel walked silently behind him, carrying the golem.

"Incidentally," Humfrey said. "Crombie was not deceiving you. The antidote you seek does lie in the direction of the lake-but beyond it The coral could enable you to obtain it-if things work out."

"I have no interest in bribes from the enemy," Bink said curtly.

"You don't?" Jewel asked. "You don't want the antidote?"

"Sorry-I didn't mean I intended to renege," Bink told her. "It's a matter of principle. I can't let the enemy subvert me, even though I do not wish to burden you with my love any longer than-"

"It's no burden, Bink," she said. "I never saw anything so brave as-"

"But since the antidote is evidently out of reach, there is no point in keeping you. I'm sorry I inconvenienced you for nothing. You are free to go, now."

She caught at his arm. Bink automatically moved his sword out of the way. "Bink, I-"

Bink yielded to his desire at last and kissed her. To his surprise, she returned the kiss emphatically. The scent of yellow roses surrounded them. Then he pushed her gently away. "Take good care of yourself, nymph. This sort of adventure is not for you. I would like to believe that you are safe and happy with your gems and your job, always."

"Bink, I can't go."

"You have to go! Here there is only horror and danger, and I have no right to subject you to it. You must depart without discovering the source of magic, so that you will have no enemy."

Now she smelled of pine trees on a hot day, all pungent and fresh and mildly intoxicating. The elixir had cured her hoarseness, too, and had erased the no-sleep shadows under her eyes. She was as lovely as she had been the moment he first saw her. "You have no right to send me away, either," she said.

Humfrey moved. Bink's sword leaped up warningly. Jewel backed off, frightened again.

"Have no concern," the Magician said. "We approach the source of magic."

Bink, wary, hardly dared believe it. "I see nothing special."

"See this rock?" Humfrey asked, pointing. "It is the magic rock, slowly moving up, leaking through to the surface after hundreds of years, squeezing through a fault in the regular strata. Above, it becomes magic dust. Part of the natural or magical conversion of the land's crust." He pointed down. "Below-is where it becomes charged. The source of magic."

"Yes-but how is it charged with magic?" Bink demanded. "Why has the coral so adamantly opposed my approach?"

"You will soon know." The Magician showed the way to a natural, curving tunnel-ramp that led down. "Feel the intensifying strength of magic, here? The most minor talent looms like that of a Magician-but all talents are largely nullified by the ambience. It is as if magic does not exist, paradoxically, because it can not be differentiated properly."

Bink could not make much sense of that. He continued on down, alert for further betrayal, conscious of the pressure of magic all about him. If a lightning bug made its little spark here, there would be a blast sufficient to blow the top off a mountain! They were certainly approaching the source-but was this also a trap?

The ramp debouched into an enormous cave, whose far wall was carved into the shape of a giant demon face. "The Demon Xanth, the source of magic," Humfrey said simply.

"This statue, this mere mask?" Bink asked incredulously. "What joke is this?"

"Hardly a joke, Bink. Without this Demon, our land would be just like Mundania. A land without magic."

"And this is all you have to show me? How do you expect me to believe it?"

"I don't expect that You have to listen to the rationale. Only then can you grasp the immense significance of what you see-and appreciate the incalculable peril your presence here means to our society."

Bink shook his head with resignation. "I said I'd listen. I'll listen. But I don't guarantee to believe your story."

"You can not fail to believe," Humfrey said. "But whether you accept-that is the gamble. The information comes in this manner: we shall walk about this chamber, intercepting a few of the magic vortexes of the Demon's thoughts. Then we will understand."

"I don't want any more magic experience!" Bink protested. "All I want to know is the nature of the source."

"You shall, you shall!" Humfrey said. "Just walk with me, that is all. There is no other way." He stepped forward.

Still suspicious, Bink paced him, for he did not want to let the Magician get beyond the immediate reach of his sword.

Suddenly he felt giddy; it was as if he were falling, but his feet were firm. He paused, bracing himself against he knew not what. Another siege of madness? If that were the trap-

He saw stars. Not the paltry motes of the normal night sky, but monstrous and monstrously strange balls of flaming yet unburning substance, of gas more dense than rock, and tides without water. They were so far apart that a dragon could not have flown from one to another in its lifetime, and so numerous that a man could not count them all in his lifetime, yet all were visible at once. Between these magically huge-small, distant-close unbelievable certainties flew the omnipotent Demons, touching a small (enormous) star here to make it flicker, a large (tiny) one there to make it glow red, and upon occasion puffing one into the blinding flash of a nova. The realm of the stars was the Demons' playground.

The vision faded. Bink looked dazedly around at the cave, and the tremendous, still face of the Demon. "You stepped out of that particular thought-vortex," Humfrey explained. "Each one is extremely narrow, though deep."

"Uh, yes," Bink agreed. He took another step-and faced a lovely she-Demon, with eyes as deep as the vortex of the fiends and hair that spread out like the tail of a comet. She was not precisely female, for the Demons had no reproduction and therefore no sex unless they wanted it for entertainment; they were eternal. They had always existed, and always would exist, as long as there was any point in existence. But for variety at times they played with variations of sex and assumed the aspect of male, female, itmale, hemale, shemale, neutermale and anonymale. At the moment she was close enough to a category to be viewed as such, and it was not a he category.

"____________________ť" she said, formulating a concept so vastly spacious as to fail to register upon Bink's comprehension. Yet her portent was so significant it moved him profoundly. He felt a sudden compelling urgency to-but such a thing would have been inexpressibly obscene in human terms, had it been possible or even conceivable. She was not, after all, closest in category to female.

Bink emerged from the thought eddy and saw Jewel standing transfixed, meshed in a different current. Her lips were parted, her bosom heaving. What was she experiencing? Bink suffered a quadruple-level reaction: horror that she should be subjected to any thought as crudely and sophisticatedly compelling as the one he had just experienced, for she was an innocent nymph; jealousy that she should react so raptly to something other than himself, especially if it were as suggestive a notion as the one he had absorbed; guilt about feeling that way about a nymph he could not really have, though he would not have wished the concept on the one he did have; and intense curiosity. Suppose an itmale made an offer-oh, horrible! Yet so tempting, too.

But Humfrey was moving, and Bink had to move too. He stepped into an eternal memory, so long that it resembled a magic highway extending into infinity both ways. The line-of-sight-though sight was not precisely the sense employed-to the past disappeared into a far-far distant flash. The Demon universe had begun in an explosion, and ended in another, and the whole of time and matter was the mere hiatus between these bangs-which two bangs were in turn only aspects of the same one. Obviously this was a completely alien universe from Bink's own! Yet, in the throes of this flux of relevant meaninglessness, it became believable. A super-magic framework for the super-magical Demons!

Bink emerged from the Thought "But what do the Demons have to do with the source of the magic of Xanth?" he demanded plaintively.

Then he entered a new flux-a complex one. If we cooperate, we can enlarge our A's, the pseudo-female Demon communicated seductively. At least, this was as much as Bink could grasp of her import, that had levels and resonances and symbolisms as myriad as the stars, and as intense and diffuse and confusing. My formula is E(A/R}th, yours X(A/N)th. Our A's match.

Ah, yes. It was a good offer, considering the situation, since their remaining elements differed, making them noncompetitive.

Not on your existence, another protested. Enlarge our E, not our A. It was D(E/A)th, who stood to be diminished by the enlarging A.

Enlarge both D and E, another suggested. It was D(E/P)th. D(E/A)th agreed instantly, and so did E(A/R)th, for she would benefit to a certain degree too. But this left X(A/N)th out.

Reduce our N, T(E/N)th recommended, and this appealed to X(A/N)th. But T(E/N)th was also dealing with the E-raisers, and that gave T(E/N)th disproportionate gain for the contract. All deals fell through for no benefit.

Bink emerged, his comprehension struggling. The names were formulae? The letters were values? What was going on?

"Ah, you have seen it," Humfrey said. "The Demons have no names, only point-scores. Variable inputs are substituted, affecting the numeric values-though they are not really numbers, but degrees of concept, with gravity and charm and luminosity and other dimensions we can hardly grasp. The running score is paramount."

That explanation only furthered the mystery. "The Demon Xanth is only a score in a game?"

"The Demon whose scoring formula is X(A/N)th-three variables and a class-exponent, as nearly as we can understand it," the Magician said. "The rules of the game are beyond our comprehension, but we do see their scores changing."

"I don't care about a score!" Bink cried. "What's the point?"

"What's the point in life?" Humfrey asked in return.

"To-to grow, to improve, to do something useful," Bink said. "Not to play games with concepts."

"You see it that way because you are a man, not a Demon. These entities are incapable of growth or improvement."

"But what about all their numbers, their enlargements of velocity, of viscosity-"

"Oh, I thought you understood," the Magician said. "Those are not expansions of Demon intellect or power, but of status. Demons don't grow; they are already all-powerful. There is nothing that any of them could conceive of, that each could not possess. Nothing any one of them could not accomplish. So they can't improve or do anything useful by our definition, for they are already absolute. Thus there is no inherent denial, no challenge."

"No challenge? Doesn't that get boring?"

"In a billion years it gets a billion times more boring," the Magician agreed.

"So the Demons play games?" Bink asked incredulously.

"What better way to pass time and recover interest in existence? Since they have no actual limitations, they accept voluntary ones. The excitement of the artificial challenge replaces the boredom of reality."

"Well, maybe," Bink said doubtfully. "But what has this to do with us?"

"The Demon X(A/N)th is paying a game penalty for failing to complete a formula-application within the round," Humfrey said. "He has to remain in inertia in isolation until released."

Bink stood still, so as not to intercept any more thoughts. "I don't see any chains to hold him. As for being alone-there are lots of creatures here."

"No chains could hold him, since he is omnipotent. He plays the game by its rules. And of course we don't count as company. Nothing in all the Land of Xanth does. We're vermin, not Demons."

"But-but-" Bink grabbed for meaning, and could not hold it. "You said this Demon was the source of magic!"

"I did indeed. The Demon X(A/N)th has been confined here over a thousand years. From his body has leaked a trace amount of magic, infusing the surrounding material. Hardly enough for him to notice-just a natural emanation of his presence, much as our own bodies give off heat."

Bink found this as fantastic as the Demon's vortex-Thoughts. "A thousand years? Leakage of magic?"

"In that time even a small leak can amount to a fair amount-at least it might seem so to vermin," the Magician assured him. "All the magic of the Land of Xanth derives from this effect-and all of it together would not make up a single letter of the Demon's formula."

"But even if all this is so-why did the brain coral try to prevent me from learning this?"

"The coral has nothing against you personally, Bink. I think it rather respects your determination. It is against anybody learning the truth. Because anyone who encounters the Demon X(A/N)th might be tempted to release him."

"How could a mere vermin-I mean, person release such an entity? You said the Demon only remains by choice."

Humfrey shook his head. "What is choice, to an omnipotent? He remains here at the dictate of the game. That is quite a different matter."

"But he only plays the game for entertainment! He can quit anytime!"

"The game is valid only so long as its rules are honored. After investing over a thousand years in this aspect of it, and being so close to success within the rules, why should he abridge it now?"

Bink shook his head. "This makes little sense to me! I would not torture myself in such fashion!" Yet a thread of doubt tugged at the corner of his mind. He was torturing himself about the nymph Jewel, honoring the human convention of his marriage to Chameleon. That, to a Demon, might seem nonsensical.

Humfrey merely looked at him, understanding some of what was passing through his mind.

"Very well," Bink said, returning to the main point. "The coral did not want me to know about the Demon, because I might release him. How could I release an all-powerful creature who does not want to be released?"

"Oh, X(A/N)th wants to be released, I am sure. It is merely necessary that protocol be followed. You could do it simply by addressing the Demon and saying 'Xanth, I free you!' Anybody can do it, except the Demon himself."

"But we don't count, on its terms! We're nothings, vermin!"

"I did not create the rules, I only interpret them, through the comprehension gleaned over centuries by the brain coral," the Magician said, spreading his hands, "Obviously our interpretation is inadequate. But I conjecture that just as we two might make a bet on whether a given mote of dust might settle nearer me or you, the Demons bet on whether vermin will say certain words on certain occasions. It does lend a certain entertaining randomness to the proceedings."

"With all that power, why doesn't Xanth cause one of us to do it, then?"

"That would be the same thing as doing it himself. It would constitute cheating. By the rules of the game, he is bound to remain without influencing any other creature on his behalf, much as we would not permit each other to blow on that mote of dust. It is not a matter of power, but of convention. The Demon knows everything that is going on here, including this conversation between us, but the moment he interferes, he forfeits the point. So he watches and waits, doing nothing."

"Except thinking," Bink said, feeling nervous about the scrutiny of the Demon. If Xanth were reading Bink's thoughts while Bink was reading Xanth's thoughts, especially in the case of that shemale memory…ouch!

"Thinking is permissible. It is another inherent function, like his colossal magic. He has not sought to influence us by his Thoughts; we have intercepted them on our own initiative. The coral, being closest to the Demon for this millennium, has intercepted more of X(A/N)th's magic and Thought than any other native creature, so understands him less imperfectly than any other vermin. Thus the brain coral has become the guardian of the Demon."

"And jealously prevents anyone else from achieving similar magic or information!" Bink exclaimed.

"No. It has been a necessary and tedious chore that the coral would gladly have given up centuries ago. The coral's dearest wish is to inhabit a mortal body, to live and love and hate and reproduce and die as we do. But it can not, lest the Demon be released. The coral has the longevity of the Demon, without his power. It is an unenviable situation."

"You mean the Demon Xanth would have been freed hundreds of years ago, but for the interference of the coral?"

"True," the Magician said.

"Of all the nerve! And the Demon tolerates this?"

"The Demon tolerates this, lest he forfeit the point."

"Well, I consider this an egregious violation of the Demon's civil rights, and I'm going to correct that right now!" Bink exclaimed with righteous wrath. But he hesitated. "What does the coral gain by keeping the Demon chained?"

"I don't know for certain, but I can conjecture," Humfrey said. "It is not for itself it does this, but to maintain the status quo. Think, Bink: what would be the consequence of the Demon's release?"

Bink thought. "I suppose he would just return to his game."

"And what of us?"

"Well, the brain coral might be in trouble. I know I would be upset if someone had balked me for centuries! But the coral must have known the risk before it meddled."

"It did. The Demon lacks human emotion. He accepts the coral's interference as part of the natural hazard of the game; he will not seek revenge. Still, there could be a consequence."

"If Xanth lacks human emotion," Bink said slowly, "what would stop him from carelessly destroying us all? It would be one dispassionate, even sensible way of ensuring that he would not be trapped here again."

"Now you are beginning to comprehend the coral's concern," Humfrey said. "Our lives may hang in the balance. Even if the Demon ignores us, and merely goes his way, there will surely be a consequence."

"I should think so," Bink agreed. "If Xanth is the source of all magic in our land-" He interrupted himself, appalled. "It could mean the end of magic! We would become-"

"Exactly. Like Mundania," Humfrey concluded. "Perhaps it would not happen right away; it might take a while for the accumulated magic of a thousand years to fade. Or the loss might be instantaneous and absolute. We just don't know. But surely there would be a disaster of greater or lesser magnitude. Now at last you understand the burden the coral has borne alone. The coral has saved our land from a fate worse than destruction."

"But maybe the Demon wouldn't go," Bink said. "Maybe he likes it here-"

"Would you care to gamble your way of life on that assumption?"

"No!"

"Do you still condemn the coral for opposing you?"

"No, I suppose I would have done the same, in its place."

"Then you will depart without freeing the Demon?"

"I'm not sure," Bink said. "I agreed to listen to the coral's rationale; I have done so. But I must decide for myself what is right"

"There is a question, when the whole of our Land's welfare is at stake?"

"Yes. The Demon's welfare is also at stake."

"But all this is just a game to X(A/N)th. It is life to us."

"Yes," Bink agreed noncommittally. The Magician saw that argument was useless. "This is the great gamble we did not wish to take-the gamble of the outcome of an individual crisis of conscience. It rests in your hands. The future of our society."

Bink knew this was true. Nothing Humfrey or the brain coral might try could affect him before he uttered the words to free the Demon. He could ponder a second or an hour or a year, as he chose, free of duress. He did not want to make a mistake.

"Grundy," Bink said, and the golem ran up to him, not affected by the Thought vortices. "Do you wish to free the Demon Xanth?"

"I can't make decisions like that," Grundy protested. "I'm only clay and string, a creature of magic."

"Like the Demon himself," Bink said. "You're non-human, not quite alive. You might be construed as a miniature Demon. I thought you might have an insight."

Grundy paced the cave floor seriously. "My job is translation. I may not experience the emotion you do, but I have an awful clear notion of the Demon. He is like me, as a dragon is to a nickelpede. I can tell you this: he is without conscience or compassion. He plays his game rigorously by its rules, but if you free him you will have no thanks from him and no reward. In fact, that would be cheating on his part, to proffer you any advantage for your service to him, for that might influence you. But even if reward were legitimate, he wouldn't do it. He'd as soon step on you as smell you."

"He is like you," Bink repeated. "As you were before you began to change. Now you are halfway real. You care-somewhat."

"I am now an imperfect golem. Xanth is a perfect Demon. For me, humanization is a step up; for him it would be a fall from grace. He is not your kind."

"Yet I am not concerned with kind or thanks, but with justice," Bink said. "Is it right that the demon be freed?"

"By his logic, you would be an utter fool to free him."

The Good Magician, standing apart, nodded agreement.

"Jewel," Bink said.

The nymph looked up, smelling of old bones. "The Demon frightens me worse than anything," she said. "His magic-with the blink of one eye, he could click us all out of existence."

"You would not free him, then?"

"Oh, Bink-I never would." She hesitated prettily. "I know you took the potion, so this is unfair-but I'm so afraid of what that Demon might do, I'd do anything for you if only you didn't free him."

Again the Good Magician nodded. Nymphs were fairly simple, direct creatures, unfettered by complex overlays of conscience or social strategy. A real woman might feel the same way Jewel did, but she would express herself with far more subtlety, proffering a superficially convincing rationale. The nymph had named her price.

So the logical and the emotional advisers both warned against releasing the Demon X(A/N)th. Yet Bink remained uncertain. Something about this huge, super-magical, game-playing entity-

And he had it. Honor. Within the Demon's framework, the Demon was honorable. He never breached the code of the game-not in its slightest detail, though there were none of his kind present to observe, and had not been for a thousand years. Integrity beyond human capacity. Was he to be penalized for this?

"I respect you," Bink said at last to Humfrey. "And I respect the motive of the brain coral." He turned to the golem. "I think you ought to have your chance to achieve full reality." And to the nymph: "And I love you, Jewel." He paused, "But I would have respect for nothing, and love for nothing, if I did not respect and love justice. If I let personal attachments and desires prevail over my basic integrity of purpose, I would lose my claim to distinction as a moral creature. I must do what I think is right."

The others did not respond. They only looked at him.

"The problem is," Bink continued after a moment, "I'm not certain what is right. The rationale of the Demon Xanth is so complex, and the consequence of the loss of magic to our world is so great-where is right and wrong?" He paused again. "I wish I had Chester here to share his emotion and reason with me."

"You can recover the centaur," Humfrey said. "The waters of the coral lake do not kill, they preserve. He is suspended in brine, unable to escape, but alive. The coral can not release him; that brine preserves it similarly. But you, if you save the magic of our land, you can draw on the phenomenal power of this region and draw him forth."

"You offer another temptation of personal attachment," Bink said. "I can not let it influence me!" For now he realized that he had not yet won the battle against the brain coral. He had prevailed physically, but intellectually the issue remained in doubt. How could he be sure the decision he made was his own?

Then he had a bright notion. "Argue the other case, Magician! Tell me why I should free the Demon."

Startled, Humfrey demurred. "You should not free the Demon!"

"So you believe. So the coral believes. I can not tell whether that belief is really yours, or merely a function of the will of your master. So now you argue the opposite case, and I'll argue the case for leaving him chained. Maybe that way the truth will emerge."

"You are something of a demon yourself," Humfrey muttered.

"Now I submit that these friends of mine are more important than an impersonal Demon," Bink said. "I don't know what's right for X(A/N)th, but I do know that my friends deserve the best. How can I justify betraying them by freeing the Demon?"

Humfrey looked as if he had swallowed the evil eye, but he came back gamely enough. "It is not a question of betrayal, Bink. None of these creatures would ever have experienced magic, if it had not been for the presence of the Demon. Now his period of incarceration has been fulfilled, and he must be released. To do otherwise would be to betray your role in the Demon's game."

"I have no obligation to the Demon's game!" Bink retorted, getting into the feel of it. "Pure chance brought me here!"

"That is the role. That you, as a sapient creature uninfluenced by the Demon's will, come by your own initiative or accident of chance to free him. You fought against us all to achieve this point of decision, and won; are you going to throw it all away now?"

"Yes-if that is best"

"How can you presume to know what is best for an entity like X(A/N)th? Free him and let him forge his own destiny."

"At the expense of my friends, my land, and my love?"

"Justice is absolute; you can not weigh personal factors against it."

"Justice is not absolute! It depends on the situation. When there is right and wrong on both sides of the scale, the preponderance-"

"You can not weigh rights and wrongs on a scale, Bink," Humfrey said, becoming passionate in his role as Demon's Advocate. Now Bink was sure it was the Good Magician speaking, not the brain coral. The enemy had had to free Humfrey, at least to this extent, to allow him to play this game of the moment. The Magician's mind and emotion had not been erased, and that was part of what Bink had needed to know. "Right and wrong are not to be found in things or histories, and can not be properly defined in either human or Demon terms. They are merely aspects of viewpoint. The question is whether the Demon should be allowed to pursue his quest in his own fashion."

"He is pursuing it in his own fashion," Bink said. "If I don't free him, that's according to the rules of his game, too. I have no obligation!"

"The Demon's honor compels him to obey a stricture no man would tolerate," Humfrey said. "It is not surprising that your own honor is inferior to that perfect standard."

Bink felt as if he had been smashed by a forest-blasting curse. The Magician was a devastating in-fighter, even in a cause he opposed! Except that this could be the Magician's real position, that the coral was forced to allow him to argue. "My honor compels me to follow the code of my kind, imperfect as that may be."

Humfrey spread his hands. "I can not debate that. The only real war between good and evil is within the soul of yourself-whoever you are. If you are a man, you must act as a man."

"Yes!" Bink agreed. "And my code says-" He paused, amazed and mortified. "It says I can not let a living, feeling creature suffer because of my inaction. It doesn't matter that the Demon would not free me, were our positions reversed; I am not a Demon, and shall not act like one. It only matters that a man does not stand by and allow a wrong he perceives to continue. Not when he can so readily correct it."

"Oh, Bink!" Jewel cried, smelling of myrrh. "Don't do it!"

He looked at her again, so lovely even in her apprehension, yet so fallible. Chameleon would have endorsed his decision, not because she wished to please him, but because she was a human being who believed, as he did, in doing the right thing. Yet though Jewel, like all nymphs, lacked an overriding social conscience, she was as good a person as her state permitted. "I love you, Jewel. I know this is just another thing the coral did to stop me, but-well, if I hadn't taken that potion, and if I weren't already married, it would have been awfully easy to love you anyway. I don't suppose it makes you feel any better to know that I am also risking my wife, and my unborn baby, and my parents, and all else I hold dear. But I must do what I must do."

"You utter fool!" Grundy exclaimed. "If I were real, I'd snatch up the nymph and to hell with the Demon. You'll get no reward from X(A/N)th!"

"I know," Bink said. "I'll get no thanks from anyone.

Then he addressed the huge demon face. "I free you, Xanth," he said.

Chapter 13

Magic Loss

Instantly the Demon burst loose. The seeping magic of X(A/N)th immediate environment was as nothing compared to the full magic of his release. There was a blinding effulgence, a deafening noise, and an explosion that threw Bink across the cavern. He crashed jarringly into a wall. As his senses cleared be perceived the collapse of the cavern in slow-motion sight and sound. Huge stones crunched to the floor and shattered into sand. All the world seemed to be collapsing into the space left by the Demon, This was a demise Bink had not anticipated: not willful destruction by X(A/N)th, not the tedium of loss of magic, but careless extinction in the wake of the Demon's departure. It was true: the Demon didn't care.

Now, as the dust clouded in to choke him and the only light was from the sparks of colliding rocks, Bink wondered: what had he done? Why hadn't he heeded the brain coral's warning, and left the Demon alone? Why hadn't he yielded to his love for Jewel, and-

Even in the ongoing carnage, while expecting momentary conclusion of his life, this made him pause in surprise. Love? Not so! He was out of love with Jewel!

That meant the magic really was gone. The love potion had been nullified. His talent would no longer protect him. The Land of Xanth was now one with Mundania.

Bink closed his eyes and cried. There was a great deal of dust in the air that needed washing out of his eyes, and he was wrackingly afraid, but it was more than that. He was crying for Xanth. He had destroyed the uniqueness of the world he knew; even if he survived this cave-in, how could he live with that?

He did not know how the society he had belonged to would react. What would happen to the dragons and tangle trees and zombies? How could the people live, without magic? It was as if the entire population had abruptly been exiled to the drear realm of no-talents.

The action abated. Bink found himself grimed with rock powder, bruised, but with limbs and sword intact Miraculously, he had survived.

Had anyone else? He peered through the rubble. Dun light descended from a hole far above, evidently the Demon's route of departure. X(A/N)th must simply have shot up and out, forging his path heedlessly through the rock. What power!

"Magician! Jewel!" Bink cried, but there was no answer. The fall of stone had been so complete that only his own section remained even partially clear. His talent must have saved him, just before it faded. He could not depend on it any more, however; it was evident that spells had been the first magic to go.

He stepped out over the rubble. More dust swirled up; it coated everything. Bink realized that though he thought he had been aware of the whole process of the Demon's departure, he could actually have been unconscious for some time. So much dust had settled! Yet he had no bruise on his head, and no headache. Yet again, the physical and magical explosion of the Demon's release could account for many incongruous effects.

"Magician!" he called again, knowing it was futile. He, Bink, had survived-but his friends had lacked his critical protection at the key moment. Somewhere beneath this slope of stone

He spied a glint, a wan reflection, only a glimmer between two dusky rocks. He pried them apart, and there it was: the bottle containing Crombie. Strewn across it was a bit of rag. Bink picked up the bottle, letting the cloth fall-and saw that it was what remained of Grundy the golem. The little man-figure had owed its animation to magic; now he was just a limp wad of material.

Bink closed his eyes again, experiencing another chill seizure of grief. He had done what he had felt was right-but he had not truly reckoned the consequence. Fine points of morality were intangible; life and death were tangible. By what right had he condemned these creatures to death? Was it moral for him to slay them in the name of his morality?

He put the cloth in his pocket along with the bottle. Evidently the golem's last act had been to grab the bottle, protecting it with his body. That had been effective, and so Grundy had given up his life for that of the griffin he served. He had cared, and therefore achieved his reality-just in time to have it dashed by circumstance. Where was the morality in that?

Startled by another thought, Bink drew out the bottle again. Was Crombie still in there? In what form? With magic gone, he could be dead-unless some magic remained corked in the bottle-

Better not open it! Whatever lingering chance Crombie had, resided in that bottle. If he were loosed and the magic dissipated into the air-would Crombie emerge as a man again, or a griffin, or a bottle-sized compressed mass? Bink had just gambled enormously, freeing the Demon; he was not about to gamble similarly with the life of his friend. He repocketed the bottle.

How drear it was, this depth of the hole. Alone with a bottle, and a defunct golem and his own mortification. The ethical principle on which he had based his decision was opaque to him now. The Demon Xanth had lain prisoner for over a thousand years. He could have lain for another century or so without harm, couldn't he?

Bink discovered he was not at the bottom of the hole, after all. The rubble opened into a deeper hole, and at the bottom was dark water. The lake! But the level had lowered drastically; now the dank gray convolutions of a formerly submerged structure lay dimly revealed. The brain coral! It, too, was dead; it could not exist without the potent magic of the Demon.

"I fear you were right, Coral," Bink said sadly.

"You let me through, and I destroyed you. You and our world."

He smelled smoke-not the clean fresh odor of a healthy blaze, but the smoldering foulness of incompletely burning vegetation. Evidently the Demon's departure had ignited some brush, assuming there was brush down here underground. The intense magic must have done it, leaving behind a real fire. It probably would not burn far, here deep in the ground, but it certainly was stinking up the place.

Then he heard a delicate groan. Surely not the coral! He scrambled toward the sound-and found Jewel wedged In a vertical crevice, bleeding from a gash on the head, but definitely alive. Hastily he drew her out, half-carrying her to a brighter place. He propped her up against a rock and patted her face with his fingertips, trying to bring her to consciousness. She stirred. "Don't wake me, Bink. Let me die in peace."

"I've killed everyone else," he said sullenly. "At least you will be able to-"

"To return to my job? I can't do it without magic." There was something strange about her. Bink concentrated and it came: "You don't smell!"

"It was magic," she said. She sighed. "If I'm alive, I'm alive, I suppose. But I really do wish you'd let me die."

"Let you die! I wouldn't do that! I-" She glanced up at him cannily. Even through the blood-caked dust on her face, she was lovely. "The magic is gone. You don't love me any more."

"Still, I owe it to you to get you home," Bink said. He looked up, trying to decide on the most feasible route, and did not see her enigmatic reaction.

They checked through the rubble a little longer, but could not find the Magician. Bink was relieved, in a fashion; now he could hope that Humfrey had survived, and had departed before him.

Bink peered up at the Demon's exit. "We'll never make it up there," he said glumly. "Too much of it is sheer cliff."

"I know a way," Jewel said. "It will be difficult, without the diggle, but there are natural passages-oh!" She broke off suddenly.

There was a monster barring the way. It resembled a dragon, but lacked wings and fire. It was more like a very large serpent with legs.

"That's a tunnel dragon-I think," Jewel said. "But something's missing."

"The magic," Bink said. "It's changing into a mundane creature-and it doesn't understand."

"You mean I'll change into a mundane woman?" she inquired, not entirely displeased.

"I believe so. There really is not much difference between a nymph and a-"

"They usually don't bother people," she continued uneasily. Before Bink could react, she added: "They're very shy dragons."

Oh. A nymphly nonsequitur. Bink kept his hand near his sword. "This is an unusual occasion."

Sure enough, the legged serpent charged, jaws gaping wide. Though it was small for a land dragon, since it was adapted to squeeze through narrow passages, it was still a formidable creature. Its head was larger than Bink's, and its body sinuously powerful. In the conditions of this cavern, Bink could not swing his sword freely, so he held it out ahead of him.

The serpent snapped at the blade-a foolish thing to do, since the charmed blade would likely cut its jaw in two. The teeth closed on it-and the blade was yanked out of Bink's hand.

Then he remembered: without magic, the sword's charm was gone. He had to make it work by himself-completely.

The serpent flung the sword aside and opened its jaws again. There was blood on its lower lip; the blade had done some minor damage. But now Bink faced the monster barehanded.

The head struck forward. Bink danced backward. But as the strike missed, and the head dropped low, Bink struck the serpent on the top of the head with his fist. The thing hissed in furious amazement as its chin-less chin bashed into the floor. But Bink's foot was already on its neck, crushing it down. The serpent's legs scraped across the stone as it tried to free itself. But Bink had it pinned.

"My sword!" he cried. Jewel hastily picked it up and extended it point-first toward him. Bink was already grabbing for it before he noticed, and then almost lost his balance and his captive as he aborted his grab. "Other way!" he snapped.

"Oh." It had not occurred to her that he would need to take hold of the handle. She was a complete innocent about weapons. She took it gingerly by the blade and poked the hilt in his direction.

But as he took it, the serpent wrenched free. Bink jumped back, his sword ready.

The thing had had enough. It backed away-an awkward maneuver when slithering-then dived into a side-hole. "You're so brave!" Jewel said.

"I was stupid to let it disarm me," he said gruffly. He was not at all proud of the encounter; it had been fraught with clumsiness, not at all elegant. Just a stupid, indecisive brawl. "Let's get on before I make a worse mistake. I brought you out of your home, and I'll get you back there safely before I leave you. It's only right."

"Only right," she repeated faintly. "Something wrong?"

"What am I going to do without magic?" she flared. "Nothing will work!"

Bink considered. "You're right. I have wrecked your livelihood. I'd better take you to the surface with me." She brightened, then dulled. "No, that wouldn't work."

"It's all right. I told you the potion has no effect now. I don't love you; I won't be bothering you. You can settle in one of the villages, or maybe work in the King's palace. It won't be much without magic, but it has to be better than this." He made a gesture, indicating the dismal caverns.

"I wonder," she murmured.

They continued. Jewel did know the labyrinth of the caverns fairly well, once they were out of the Demon's depths, and brought them steadily if circuitously upward. Beyond the immediate region of the Demon's vacancy there had not been much damage. But everywhere the magic was gone, and the creatures were crazed. Rats tried to zap him with their rodent magic, and failed, and resorted to teeth. They were no more used to naked teeth as weapons than Bink was to using an uncharmed sword, so the sides were fair. He drove them back with slashing sweeps of his sword. There might be no magic in the blade, but the edge remained sharp and it could hurt and kill.

Still, it took a lot of energy to swing that sword, and his arm grew tired. There had been another charm to make the sword lighter and more responsive to direction, without making it self-willed like the one that had attacked Bink in the gardens of Castle Roogna. The rats crowded closer, staying just out of range and coming in to nip at his heels when he climbed. Jewel was no better off; she lacked even a knife of her own. and had to borrow Bink's knife to defend herself. A monster could be killed but these smaller creatures seemed inexhaustible. They weren't nickelpedes, fortunately, but they were reminiscent of them.

"The way-it'll will be dark in places," Jewel said. "I hadn't thought-without magic there's no glow, no magic light. I'm afraid of the dark."

There had been some residual glow, but it was fading. Bink looked at the rats, so close. "With reason," he said. "We have to see what we're fighting." He felt naked without his talent, though it only protected him against magic-a protection that was irrelevant now. For practical purposes his situation was unchanged, since no magic threatened him. Not now or ever again. "Fire-we need fire for light. Torches-if we can make torches-"

"I know where some fire stones are!" Jewel said. But she reconsidered immediately. "Only I don't think they are working, without magic."

"Do you know where there's dry grass-I mean straw-something we could twist up tight and burn? And-but I don't know how the Mundanes make fire, so-"

"I know where there's magic fire-" She broke off. Oh, this is awful! No magic-" She looked as if about to cry. As Bink knew, real sternness of character was not to be found in nymphs. They seemed to have been fashioned by magic to accommodate man's casual dreams, not his serious ones.

Yet he had cried, too, when he first grasped the immensity of what he had done. How much of his perception of the nature of nymphs was human-chauvinistic?

"I know," Bink cried, surprising himself. "There was something burning-I smelled it before. If we went there-picked up some of whatever's burning-"

"Great!" she agreed, with a flash of nymph-enthusiasm. Or female enthusiasm, he corrected his impression mentally.

They soon found it by following their noses: the remains of a magic garden the goblins must have tended, now sere and brown. The dead foliage was smoldering, and the smoke formed layers in the upper reaches of the garden cave. The goblins, of course, were far removed from this region; they had been so afraid of the fire that they had not even tried to put it out.

Bink and Jewel gathered what seemed like the best material, forming it into an irregular rope, and lit the end. The thing guttered and flared and went out in a cloud of awful-smelling smoke. But after several tries they got it working better; it was enough to have it smolder until they needed an open flame, which they could blow up anytime. Jewel carried it; it gave her a feeling of security she sorely needed, and Bink had to have his hands free for fighting.

Now the worst of the enemies were the goblins, who evidently resented the intrusion into their garden. There had been no direct evidence of them before-but of course they had been on the diggle, with protective magic and much light. In the absence of light the goblins grew bolder. They seemed to have been bred from men and rats. Now that the magic was gone, the man-aspect was diminishing and the rat-aspect was becoming more pronounced. Bink realized that this was evident mostly in their habits; physically they still resembled brutish little men, with big soft feet and small hard heads.

The difficulty with the goblins was that they had the intelligence of men and the scruples of rodents. They slunk just out of sight, but they were not cowards. It was simply that no one, three, or six of them could stand up to Bink's sword, and there was not room for a greater number of them to approach him at one time. So they stayed clear-without giving up.

"I think they know I freed the Demon," Bink muttered. "They're out for revenge. I don't blame them."

"You did what you believed was right!" Jewel flared.

He put his arm about her slender waist. "And you are doing what you believe is right, helping me reach the surface-even though we both know I was wrong. I have destroyed the magic of Xanth."

"No, you weren't wrong," she said. "You had empathy for the Demon, and-"

He squeezed her. "Thank you for saying that. Do you mind if I-" He stopped. "I forgot! I'm not in love with you any more!"

"I don't mind anyway," she said.

But he let her go, embarrassed. There was an evil cackle of laughter from a goblin, Bink stooped to pick up a stone to hurl at the creature, but of course it missed.

Bink armed himself with a number of rocks, and hurled one every time he saw a goblin. Soon he got remarkably accurate, and the goblins gave him a wider berth. Stones had a special magic that had nothing to do with real magic; they were hard and sharp and plentiful, and Bink had a much better arm than any goblin possessed. Still, they did not give up. Beauregard's warning had been accurate: Bink had not encountered goblins as brave and tenacious as these before.

Bink wanted to rest, for he was tired, but dared not. If he rested, he might sleep, and that could be disaster. Of course he could have Jewel watch while he slept-but she was after all only a nymph-rather, a young woman, and he was afraid the goblins would overwhelm her in such a situation. Her fate in goblin hands would probably be worse than his.

He glanced at her covertly. This rough trek was taking its toll. Her hair had lost its original sparkle and hung in lusterless straggles. She reminded him somewhat of Chameleon-but not in her beauty phase. They dragged on, and made progress. Near the surface the ascent became more difficult. "There's not much communication with the topworld," Jewel gasped. "This is the best route-but how you climb it without wings or a rope I don't know."

Bink didn't know either. If this had been a convenient route, Crombie's talent would have pointed it out on the way in. The day sky was visible through a crack in the ground above-but the walls sloped in from the broader cavern-space below, and they were slick with moisture. Impossible to climb, without magic.

"We can't stay here long," Jewel said worriedly. 'There's a tangle tree near the exit, and its roots can get ornery." She stopped short, startled. "I'm still doing it! Without magic-"

That was why Crombie's talent hadn't pointed this way, he realized. A tangler! But the bad magic was gone with the good. "Let's go!" he cried.

He found the tangle roots and ripped them out of the rock, and severed them where they would not come free. Quickly he knotted them into a strong if ragged rope. Tangle roots were strong; they were made for holding struggling prey fast. No question: this rope would hold his weight!

"But how can we get it up there?" Jewel asked anxiously.

"There's a major tangle root-trunk crossing at the narrowest section," Bink said. "See, right up there." He pointed.

She looked. "I never noticed! I must have been here half a dozen times before, teasing the tangler and wondering what the world above was like. I was supposed to be planting gems…" Her nymphly confession trailed off. "You certainly are observant."

"You certainly are complimentary. Don't worry; you will get to see the surface world this time. I won't leave you until you're safe on the surface and in good hands. Maybe at the magic-dust village."

She looked away, not answering. He glanced at her, peering through the smoke of the smoldering weed rope she held, concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

She looked back at him with sudden decision. "Bink, you remember when we first met?"

He laughed. "How could I forget! You were so beautiful, and I was so grimy-almost as grimy as we both are now! And I had just taken the-" He shrugged, not wanting to get into the embarrassing matter of the love potion again. "You know, I'm almost sad that's over. You're an awfully nice nymph, and without your help-"

"You loved me then, and I didn't love you," she said. "You were devious, and I was simple. You lured me in close, then grabbed me and kissed me."

Bink fidgeted. "I'm sorry, Jewel. I-it won't happen again."

"That's what you think," she said, and flung her arms about him and planted a passionate kiss on his half-open mouth. Dirty as she was, it was still a remarkable experience; almost he felt the tug of the love potion again. He had loved her before without knowing her; now he knew her and understood her nymphly limitations and respected her for trying so hard to overcome them, and he liked her more than was entirely proper. A genuine affection had been developing beneath the artificial love, and that affection remained. What would Chameleon think, if she saw this embrace?

Jewel released him. "Turnabout's fair play," she said. "I am more complex than I was a few hours ago, and you are simpler. Now get on up your rope."

What did she mean by that? Bemused, Bink weighted the rope with a solid rock and lofted it up toward the root-trunk. It fell short, because of the weight of the rope. He tried again, harder, but the rope was still too heavy. It dragged steadily, its weight becoming greater as the rock got higher. Finally he made a wad out of the rope and hurled the mass of it up; this time it got there-and fell back, having failed to pass over the root. But he was making progress, and after several more tries he got it over. The rock fell down, hauling the rope after it. It snagged before the rock came down within reach, but several jerks on the other end of the rope freed it. Bink knotted the ends together, forming a complete loop of rope that could not come loose.

"I can climb this first, then you can sit in the loop and I'll haul you up," he said. He knew there was no chance of her climbing by herself; her arms were too delicate. "Blow the torch up high, so the goblins won't come too close."

She nodded. Bink took a few deep breaths, feeling his worn system revving up in anticipation of this final effort. Then he took hold and began to climb the rope.

It started out better than he had feared, but soon got worse. His arms tired quickly, since they had been none too fresh to begin with. He clamped his legs about the rope, hanging on, to give his arms a rest, but they recovered reluctantly. Oh for some healing elixir! Still, Jewel was waiting, and so were the rats and goblins; he could not afford to delay too long. Excruciatingly he dragged himself up with smaller and smaller wrenches. His breath rasped, his head felt light, and his arms seemed to turn into waterlogged wood just beyond the elbows, but he kept moving.

So suddenly it seemed a miracle, he was at the top. Maybe his mind had simply gone a bit dead too, cutting out the agony of the continuing effort, and revived when he arrived. He clung to the big root, which was somewhat furry: the better to grip its prey, perhaps, He had never, before this adventure, anticipated gladly embracing a tangle tree!

He swung a leg over, missed, and felt himself falling. It was almost a relief, this relaxation! But the rope was still there, and he wrapped himself about it and hung, panting. So little to go, so hard to do!

There was a knot up near the apex. Bink braced his feet against it and used his relatively fresh leg muscles to push him up, and somehow scrambled around the root. Now he perceived that rough bark underlay the fur on top, making it good for clinging to, good for scrambling. He clung and scrambled, and finally inched over to the top of it and lay there, panting weakly, too worn out even to feel proper relief.

"Bink!" Jewel cried from below. "Are you all right?"

That roused him. His labor was far from over! "I should be asking you that! Are the rats staying back? Can you get in the seat, to come up?" He didn't know how he would pull up her weight in his present state, but he couldn't tell her that.

"I'm not all right. I'm not coming up."

"Jewel! Get up the rope! The rats can't reach you there, if you pull the end up after you!"

"It's not the rats, Bink. I've lived down here all my life; I can handle the rats and even the goblins, as long as I have my light It's you. You are a handsome man."

"Me? I don't understand!" But he was beginning to. She was not referring to his present appearance, which was homelier than Chester's face. (Oh, noble centaur-in what state was be now?) The signs had been there; he had merely refused to interpret them.

"When you took the potion, you remained an honest person," Jewel called. "You were strong, stronger than any nymph could be. You never used the potion as an excuse to betray your quest or your friends. I respected and envied that quality in you, and tried to use it as a model. The only exception was that one kiss you stole, so I stole it back. I love you, Bink, and now-"

"But you never drank that potion!" he protested. "And even if you had, now that the magic is gone-"

"I never drank that potion," she agreed. "Therefore the loss of magic could not take my love away. Growth was forced upon me, driving out my nymphly innocence. Now I can perceive reality, and I know there can be no antidote but time, for me. I can not go with you."

"But you have no life down there!" Bink cried, appalled. His love for her had been magic; hers for him was real. She loved better than he had. Her nymph-hood was, indeed, behind her. "There must be some way to work it out-"

"There is, and I am utilizing it. When I saw how you sacrificed me when the spell was on you, I knew there could be no hope at all when it was off. It is ironic that my love bloomed only when you gave me up, because you gave me up. Because you were true to your principles and your prior commitment. Now I shall be true to mine. Farewell, Bink!"

"No!" he cried. "Come out of there! There has to be some better way-"

But the rope was sliding and bumping over the root. She had untied it at the bottom part of the loop and was drawing it free. He grabbed for it, too late. The end passed over the root and dropped into the darkness.

"Jewel!" he cried. "Don't do this! I don't love you, but I do like you. I-" But that was a dead end. She was right: even when he had loved her, he had known he could not have her. That was unchanged.

There was no answer from below. The nymph had done the honorable thing, and gone her way alone, freeing him. Exactly as he would have done, in that circumstance.

There was nothing he could do now but go home. "Farewell, Jewel!" he called, hoping she would hear. "You may not have my love, but you do have my respect. You are a woman now."

He rested, listening, but heard nothing more from her. Finally he got off the root and looked about. He was in a deep cleft that he now recognized as a section of the Gap, the great chasm that cleft the Land of Xanth in twain. The tree was anchored in the bottom, but reached up toward the top, and a branch extended over the rim. In the absence of magic, the tree was safe to climb. In fact, the terrain would hold few direct threats for him now. He could proceed directly to the King's palace, arriving there within a day.

He spied some inert bugs. They were lying in a patch of sunlight, their pincers twitching. Bink felt compassion, and nudged them gently toward the nearest shadow with one foot. Poor little things!

Then he recognized them. These were nickelpedes, shorn of their magic! What a fall they had taken!

But when he swung himself from the last tentacle of the tangler and reached the surface, he discovered it to be unfamiliar. This crevice ran north-south, not east-west, unless the loss of magic had somehow turned the sun around. It had to be a different chasm, not the Gap. He was lost after all.

Now that he thought about it, he doubted he could have come as far north as the Gap. So he was probably somewhere south of it, and south of the palace. His best bet was to travel north until he encountered the Gap, or some other familiar landmark.

The trek was more difficult than he had anticipated. There was no hostile magic, true-but there was also no beneficial magic. The nature of the landscape had changed fundamentally, becoming mundane. There were no flying fruits, no shoe-trees or jean-bushes to replace his ragged apparel, no watermelons to drink from. He had to find ordinary food and water, and hardly knew what to look for. The animals, stunned by their loss of magic, avoided him; they weren't smart enough to realize that he, too, had been shorn of magic. That was a blessing.

It was late afternoon. How many hours or days he had spent below he could not be sure, but here in the sight of the sun he would be able to keep track again. He would have to spend the night in the forest. It seemed safe enough; he could climb a tree.

He looked for a good one. Many of the trees of this forest seemed dead; perhaps they were merely dormant, in this new winter of the absence of magic. It might take months or years for the full ravages of that winter to become known. Some trees flourished; they must be the mundane varieties, freed from the competition of magic. Would he be better off in a healthy mundane tree, or a defunct magical one?

Bink shivered. It was getting chill, and he could find no blanket bushes. However, it was not merely temperature that affected him. He was tired and lonely and full of remorse for what he had done. Tomorrow he would have to face his friends at the palace and tell them-

But surely they would already have guessed his guilt. It was not confession that bothered him, but punishment. Jewel had been wise to avoid him; he had no future at home.

There seemed to be a certain vague familiarity about this region. There were trails through the brush like those of ant lions, and brambles, and regions of odoriferous plants-

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "Where we intersected the magic highway to the magic-dust village!"

He peered up through the languishing foliage. There it was-a walkway fashioned from logs and vines, suspended from the stoutest trees. It made no loops in air, but of course it wasn't magic now.

He climbed aboard the lowest loop and walked along it. The thing seemed dangerously insecure, sagging beneath his weight and swinging sidewise alarmingly, but it held. In due course it brought him to the village.

He had feared a scene of gloom. Instead, the entire village seemed to be celebrating. Another great bonfire was blazing, and men and women of all types were dancing around it.

Men? How had they gotten here? This was a village of women! Could it be another Wave of conquest from Mundania, with the brutish men reveling in this village of helpless women?

Yet there seemed to be no threat. The men were happy, of course-but so were the women. Bink walked on into the village, looking for Trolla, its leader.

A man spied him as he stepped off the hanging walk. "Hello, friend!" the man called. "Welcome home! Who's your widow?"

"Widow?" Bink asked blankly.

"Your woman-before the gorgon got you. She'll be overjoyed to have you back."

The gorgon! Suddenly Bink understood. "You're the stone men! Freed by the loss of magic!"

"And you weren't?" The man laughed. "You'd better come see the head man, then."

"Trolla," Bink said. "If she's still here-"

"Who's looking for Trolla?" someone demanded. It was a huge, ugly troll. Well, an average troll; they were all huge and ugly.

Bink's hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. "I only want to talk with her."

"'Sokay," the troll said genially. He cupped his mouth with his hands. "Bitch, get over here!"

A dozen young women glanced his way, startled, thinking he meant them. Bink covered a smile. "Uh, the gorgon," he said. "What happened to her?"

"Oh, we were going to string her up, after we, you know…" the troll said. "She was a good-looking slut, except for those snaky tangles in her hair. But she jumped into the lake, and before we realized there weren't any more monsters in it, she was too far off to catch. Last we saw she was headed north."

North. Toward Magician Humfrey's castle. Bink was glad she had escaped, but knew she would not find Humfrey at home. That was another aspect of the tragedy Bink had wrought.

Trolla, responsive to the summons, was arriving. "Bink!" she exclaimed. "You made it!"

"I made it," he agreed gravely. "I abolished magic from the Land of Xanth. I converted it to Mundania. Now I return home to pay the penalty."

"The penalty!" the troll cried. "You freed us all! You're a hero!"

This was an aspect Bink hadn't considered. "Then you aren't angry at the loss of magic?"

"Angry?" Trolla cried. "Angry that my husband is back, good enough to eat?" She hugged the troll to her in an embrace that would have cracked normal ribs. He was well able to sustain this, though he seemed momentarily uneasy about something.

A female griffin glided up. "Awk?" she inquired. "And here's the one who guided you, released from the midas-spell," Trolla said. "Where is your handsome griffin?"

Bink thought it best not to tell about the bottle. "He is…confined. He was actually a transformed man. He spoke well of the lady griffin, but he…sends his regrets."

The griffiness turned away, disappointed. Apparently she did not have a male of her own. Perhaps she would find a male of her kind soon-though with the alteration of form that was slowly taking place in such magical creatures, Bink wondered whether that male would be more like an eagle or more like a lion. Or would the present griffins retain their shapes, while their offspring would be eagles and lions? Suppose Crombie emerged from the bottle, but retained his griffin form; would he then find this griffiness worthwhile? If so, what would their offspring be? The loss of magic posed as many questions as the presence of magic!

"Come, we shall feed you royally tonight, and you shall tell us the whole story!" Trolla said.

"I, uh, I'm pretty tired," Bink demurred. "I'd rather not tell the story. My friend the Good Magician-is missing, and so is the centaur, and the memories-"

"Yes, you need distraction," Trolla agreed. "We do have a few leftover females, daughters of older villagers. They are very lonely at the moment, and-"

"Uh, no thanks, please," Bink said quickly. He had broken too many hearts already! "Just some food, and a place to spend the night, if there's room-"

"We're short of room; our population has just doubled. But the girls will tend to you. It will give them something to do. They'll be glad to share their rooms." Bink was too tired to protest further. But as it turned out, the "girls" were an assortment of fairies and lady elves who paid him flattering attention, but were not really interested in him as a man. They made a game out of feeding him odds and ends, each one putting her morsel in his mouth with her own little hands, twittering merrily. They wouldn't let him have a plate; everything had to be trotted in from another room, piecemeal. Then he lay in a bed made out of thirty small colored pillows, while the fairies flitted around, the breeze from their gossamer wings fanning him. They could no longer fly, of course, and soon their wings would fall off as they reverted to mundane forms, but at the moment they were cute. He went to sleep counting the creatures that leaped merrily over him in the course of their game of follow-the-leader.

But in the morning he had to face reality again: the bleak journey home. He was glad his quest had done at least this little bit of good; perhaps his talent had planned it this way, before being nullified by the loss of magic, so as to provide him with a good, safe place for this night. But as for the rest of Xanth-what hope remained for it?

The griffiness accompanied him for a distance, guiding him again, and in a surprisingly brief time he was up to the dead forest: halfway familiar territory. It was no longer so different from the rest of the wilderness. He thanked her, wished her well, and continued on alone, northward.

The loneliness closed in about him. The lack of magic was so pervasive and depressing! All the little amenities he was accustomed to were gone. There were no blue toads sitting on their squat vegetable stools, no Indian pipes wafting their sweet smoke aloft. No trees moved their branches out of his way, or cast avoidance-spells on him. Everything was hopelessly Mundane. He felt tired again, and not merely from the march. Was life really worthwhile, without magic?

Well, Chameleon would be locked in her "normal" phase, the one he liked best: neither pretty nor smart, but rather nice overall. Yes, he could live with that for some time before it got dull, assuming that he was allowed to-

He paused. He heard a clip-clop, as of hooves on a beaten path. An enemy? He hardly cared; it was company.

"Hallooo!" he cried.

"Yes?" It was a woman's voice. He charged toward it

There, standing on a beaten path, was a lady centaur. She was not especially pretty; her flanks were dull, her tail tangled with burrs (naturally a lady would not be able to curse them off), and her human torso and face, though obviously feminine, were not well proportioned. A colt followed her, and he was not only unhandsome, he was downright homely, except for his sleek hindquarters. In fact he resembled-"Chester!" Bink exclaimed. "That's Chester's colt!"

"Why, you're Bink," the filly said. Now he recognized her: Cherie, Chester's mate. Yet she was in no way the beauty he had ridden before. What had happened?

But he had enough sense to express himself obliquely. "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in the centaur village until-" But that was a trap, too, for Chester would never return.

"I'm trotting to the palace to find out what is responsible for the miracle," she said. "Do you realize that obscenity has been banished from Xanth?"

Bink remembered: Cherie considered magic obscene, at least when it manifested in centaurs. She tolerated it as a necessary evil in others, for she regarded herself as a liberal-minded filly, but preferred to discuss it only clinically.

Well, he had the detail on it! He was glad that at least one person liked the change. "I'm afraid I'm responsible."

"You abolished magic?" she asked, startled.

"It's a long story," Bink said. "And a painful one. I don't expect others to accept it as well as you will."

"Get on my back," she said. "You travel too slow. I'll take you in to the palace, and you can tell me the whole story. I'm dying to know!"

She might be dying literally, when she learned the truth about Chester. But he had to tell her. Bink mounted and hung on as she broke into a trot. He had anticipated a daylong march, but now this would be unnecessary; she would get them to the palace before dark.

He told her the story. He found himself going into more detail than strictly necessary, and realized this was because he dreaded the denouncement-where Chester had fought his dreadful battle and lost. True, he might have won, had the evil eye intended for Bink not stunned him-but that would be scant comfort to her. Cherie was a widow-and he had to be the one to tell her.

His narrative was interrupted by a bellow. A dragon hove into view-but it was a miserable monster. The once-bright scales had faded into mottled gray. When it snorted fire, only dust emerged. The thing was already looking gaunt and ill; it depended on magic for its hunting.

Nevertheless, the dragon charged, intent on consuming centaur, rider, and colt. Bink drew his sword, and Cherie skittered lightly on her feet, ready to kick. Even a bedraggled dragon of this size was a terror.

Then Bink saw a scar on the dragon's neck. "Say-don't I know you?" he exclaimed.

The dragon paused. Then it lifted its head in a signal of recognition.

"Chester and Crombie and I met this dragon and made a truce," Bink said. "We fought the nickelpedes together."

"The nickelpedes are harmless now," Cherie said. "Their pincers have lost their-" She pursed her lips distastefully. "Their magic. I trotted right down inside the Gap and stepped on them and they couldn't hurt me."

Bink knew. "Dragon, magic is gone from Xanth," Bink told it. "You'll have to learn to hunt and fight without your fire. In time you will change into your dominant mundane component, or your offspring will. I think that would be a large snake. I'm sorry."

The dragon stared at him in horror. Then it whipped about and half-galloped, half-slithered off.

"I'm sorry too," Cherie said. "I realize now that Xanth isn't really Xanth, without magic. Spells do have their place. Creatures like that-magic is natural to them." This was a considerable concession, for her.

Bink resumed his narrative. He could stall no longer, so nerved himself and said what he had to. "So I have Crombie here in the bottle," he concluded. And waited, aware of the awful tenseness in her body.

"But Chester and Humfrey-"

"Remain below," he said. "Because I freed the Demon."

"But you don't know they are dead," she said, her body still so tense that riding her was uncomfortable. "They can be found, brought back-"

"I don't know how," Bink said glumly. He didn't like this at all.

"Humfrey's probably just lost; that's why you couldn't find his body. Dazed by the collapse. Without his informational magic he could be confused for a goblin. And Chester-he's too ornery to-to-he's not dead, he's just pickled. You said that was a preservative lake-"

"So I did," Bink agreed. "I-but it was drained, so that I could see the convolutions of the brain coral."

"It wasn't drained all the way! He's down there, deep below, I know it, like the griffin in the bottle. We can find him, revive him-"

Bink shook his head. "Not without magic."

She bucked him off. Bink flew through the air, saw the ground coming at his head, knew that his talent would do nothing-and landed in Cherie's arms. She had leaped to catch him at the last moment "Sorry, Bink. It's just that obscenity bothers me. Centaurs don't…" She righted him and set him on his feet, never completing her statement. She might not be beautiful now, but she had the centaur strength.

Strength, not beauty. She had been a magnificently breasted creature, in the time of magic; now she remained ample, but she sagged somewhat, as most human or humanoid females of similar measurement did. Her face had been delightfully pert; now it was plain. What could account for the sudden change-except the loss of magic?

"Let me get this straight," Bink said. "You feel all magic is obscene-"

"Not all magic, Bink. For some of you it seems to be natural-but you're only human. For a centaur it is a different matter. We're civilized."

"Suppose centaurs had magic too?"

Her face shaped into controlled disgust. "We had better be on our way before it gets too late. There is a fair distance yet to cover."

"Like Herman the hermit, Chester's uncle," Bink persisted. "He could summon will-o'-the-wisps."

"He was exiled from our society," she said. Her expression had a surly quality that reminded him of Chester.

"Suppose other centaurs had magic-?"

"Bink, why are you being so offensive? Do you want me to have to leave you here in the wilderness?" She beckoned to her colt, who came quickly to her side.

"Suppose you yourself had a magic talent?" Bink asked. "Would you still consider it obscene?"

"That does it!" she snorted. "I will not endure such obnoxious behavior, even from a human. Come, Chet." And she started off.

"Damn it, filly, listen to me!" Bink cried. "You know why Chester came on my quest? Because he wanted to discover his own magic talent. If you deny magic in centaurs, you deny him-because he does have magic, good magic, that-"

She spun about, raising her forehooves to strike him down. A filly she might be, but she could kill him with a single blow.

Bink danced back. "Good magic," he repeated. "Not anything stupid, like turning green leaves purple, or negative, like giving people hotfeet. He plays a magic flute, a silver flute, the most lovely music I ever heard. Deep inside he's an awfully pretty person, but he's suppressed it because-"

"I'm going to stomp you absolutely flat!" she neighed, smashing at him with both forefeet "You have no right even to suggest-"

But he was cool, now, while she was half-blinded by rage. He avoided her strikes as he would those of a savage unicorn, without ever turning his back or retreating more than he had to. He could have stabbed her six times with his sword, but never drew it This debate was all academic now, since magic was gone from Xanth, but he was perversely determined that she should admit the truth. "And you, Cherie-you have magic too. You make yourself look the way you want to look, you enhance yourself. It's a type of illusion, restricted to-"

She struck at him with both forefeet at once, in a perfect fury. He was affronting her deepest sensitivities, telling her that she herself was obscene. But he was ready, anticipating her reactions, avoiding them. His voice was his sword, and he intended to score with it. He had had too much of delusion, his own especially; he would wipe the whole slate clean. In a way, it was himself he was attacking: his shame at what he had done to Xanth when he freed the Demon. "I challenge you," he cried. "Look at yourself in a lake. See the difference. Your magic is gone!"

Even in her fury, she realized she was not getting anywhere. "All right I'll look!" she cried. "Then I'll kick you to the moon!"

As it happened, they had passed a small pond recently. They returned to it in silence, Bink already starting to be sorry for what he was doing to her, and the lady centaur looked at herself. She was certain what she would find, yet honest enough to have her certainty disrupted by the fact. "Oh, no!" she cried, shocked. "I'm homely, I'm hideous, I'm uglier than Chester!"

"No, you're beautiful-with magic," Bink insisted, wanting to make up for the revelation he had forced on her. "Because magic is natural to you, as it is to me. You have no more reason to oppose it than you do any other natural function, like eating or breeding or-"

"Get away from me!" she screamed. "You monster, you-" In another fit of fury she stamped her hoof in the pond, making a splash. But the water only settled back, as water did, and the ripples quieted, and the image returned with devastating import.

"Listen, Cherie!" Bink cried. "You pointed out that Chester can be rescued. I'm just building on that. I don't dare open Crombie's bottle because the process requires magic, and there is none. Chester must stay in the lake for the same reason, in suspended animation. We need magic. It doesn't matter whether we like it. Without it, Chester is dead. We can't get anywhere as long as you-"

With extreme reluctance, she nodded agreement. "I thought nothing would make me tolerate obscenity. But for Chester I would do anything. Even-" She gulped, and twitched her tail. "Even magic. But-"

"We need a new quest!" Bink said with sudden inspiration as he washed himself in the pond. "A quest to restore magic to the Land of Xanth! Maybe if we all work together, humans and centaurs and all Xanth's creatures, we can find another Demon-" But he petered out, realizing the futility of the notion. How could they summon X(A/N)th or E(A/R)th or any other super-magical entity? The Demons had no interest in this realm.

"Yes," Cherie agreed, finding hope as Bink lost it. "Maybe the King will know how to go about it. Get on my back; I'm going to gallop."

Bink remounted her, and she took off. She did not have the sheer power Chester had, but Bink had to cling to her slender waist to stay on as she zoomed through the forest.

"And with magic, I'll be beautiful again…" she murmured into the wind, wistfully.

Bink, tired, nodded sleepily as Cherie charged on through the desolate wilderness. Then he was almost pitched off as she braked.

They faced a huge shaggy pair of creatures. "Make way, you monsters!" Cherie cried without rancor. They were, after all, monsters. "This is a public easement; you can't block it!"

"We not block it, centaur lass," one monster said. "You give way to let we pass."

"Crunch the Ogre!" Bink exclaimed. "What are you doing so far from home?"

"You know this monster?" Cherie asked Bink.

"I certainly do! What's more, now I can understand him without translation!"

The ogre, who now resembled a brute of a man, peered at Bink from beneath his low skull. "You man we met, the one on quest? Me on gooeymoon with she loved best"

"Gooeymoon?" Cherie murmured.

"Oh, so that's Sleeping Beauty!" Bink said, contemplating the ogress. She was as ugly a creature as he cared to imagine. Yet beneath her hair, which resembled a mop just used to wipe up vomit, and her baggy coarse dress, she seemed to have rather more delicate contours than one might expect in an ogress. Then he remembered: she was no true ogress, but an actress, playing a part in one of the fiend's productions. She could probably look beautiful if she tried. Why, then, was she not trying? "Uh, one question-"

The female, no dummy, caught his gist before he got it out. "True, me once have other face," she told Bink. "Me glad get out of that rat race. Me find man better than any fiend; me like it best, by he be queened."

So the prima donna had found a husband worthy of her attention! After meeting the fiends, Bink found himself in agreement with her choice. She was maintaining the ogress guise, which was in any event merely a physical reflection of her normal personality, while teaching Crunch to speak more intelligibly. One savvy lady fiend, there! "Uh, congratulations," Bink said. Aside, he explained to Cherie. "They married on our advice. Humfrey and Crombie and Chester and the golem and I. Except that Humfrey was asleep. It was quite a story."

"I'm sure," Cherie agreed dubiously.

"Yes, me bash he good," the fair she-ogre said. "He head like wood."

"Ogres are very passionate," Bink murmured.

Cherie, after her initial surprise, was quick to catch on. "How do you keep his love?" she inquired with a certain female mischief. "Doesn't he like to go out adventuring?"

Bink realized she was thinking of Chester, perhaps unconsciously.

"Me let he go, me never say no," the ogress said, full of the wisdom of her sex. "When he come back, me give he crack." She struck the ogre with a horrendous backhand wallop by way of example. Just as well, for Bink had been about to misunderstand the reference. "Make he feel like beast, then give he feast,"

Crunch's face contorted into a smile of agreement. He was obviously well satisfied. And probably better off, Bink thought, than he might have been with a natural ogress, who would have taken his nature for granted. Whatever faults the actress might have, she certainly knew how to handle her male.

"Does the loss of magic interfere with your lifestyle?" Bink inquired. Both ogres looked at him blankly.

"They never noticed!" Cherie exclaimed. "There's true love for you!"

The ogre couple went on its way, and Cherie resumed her run. But she was thoughtful. "Bink, just as a rhetorical example-does a male really like to feel like a beast?"

"Yes, sometimes," Bink agreed, thinking of Chameleon. When she was in her stupid-beautiful phase, she seemed to live only to please him, and he felt extremely manly. But when she was in her smart-ugly phase, she turned him off with her wit as well as her appearance. In that respect she was smarter when she was stupid than when she was smart. Of course now all that was over; she would stay always in her "normal" phase, avoiding the extremes. She would never turn him off-or on.

"And a centaur-if he felt like a real stallion at home-"

"Yes. Males need to feel wanted and needed and dominant, even when they aren't. Especially at home. That ogress knows what she's doing."

"So it seems," Cherie agreed. "She's a complete fake, a mere actress, yet he's so happy he'd do anything for her. But lady centaurs can act too, when they have reason…" Then she was silent as she ran.

Chapter 14

Paradox Wish

Bink, nodding again, was suddenly jolted awake. Cherie was braking so hard he was being crushed against her human back. He threw his arms about her waist, hanging on, careful not to grab too high. "What-?"

"I almost forgot. I haven't nursed Chet in hours,"

"Chet?" Bink repeated dazedly. Oh, the foal.

She signaled to her young one, who promptly came up to nurse. Bink hastily excused himself for another kind of call of nature. Centaurs were not sensitive about natural functions; in fact they could and did perform some of them on the run. Humans were more squeamish, at least in public. It made him realize one reason why Cherie did not seem as lovely now: her breasts were enlarged to the point of ponderosity, so that she could nurse her foal. Little centaurs required a great deal of milk, especially when they had to run as much as this one did.

After a decent interval Bink cautiously returned. The foal was still nursing, but Cherie spied Bink. "Oh, don't be so damned human," she snapped. "What do you think I'm doing-magic?"

Bink had to laugh, embarrassed. She had a point; he had no more occasion to let his squeamishness interfere with business than she did. His definitions of what might be obscene made no more sense than hers. He came forward, albeit diffidently. It occurred to him that centaurs were well adapted to their functions; had Cherie had an udder like a horse, the foal would have had a difficult time. He was an upright little chap, whose human section did not bend down like the neck of a horse.

"We're going the wrong way," Cherie exclaimed.

Oh, no! "You strayed from the path? We're lost?"

"We're on the path. But we should not be going toward Castle Roogna. Nobody there can help."

"But the King-"

"The King is just an ordinary man, now. What can he do?"

Bink sighed. He had just assumed King Trent would have some sort of answer, but Cherie was right "What can anyone do without-" He was trying to spare her the use of the obscene word, though he knew this was foolish.

"Nursing Chet started me thinking," she said, giving the foal a loving pat on the head. "Here is my foal, Chester's colt, a representative of the dominant species of Xanth. What am I doing running away from Chester? Chet needs a real stud to teach him the facts of life. I could never forgive myself, if-"

"But you're not running away!" Bink protested. "We're going to the King, to find out what to do in the absence of-how we can-"

"Oh, go ahead, say it!" she exclaimed angrily. "Magic! You have shown me in your blundering human way that it is necessary and integral to our way of life, including my own private personal life, damn you. Now I'm taking the rationale further. We can't just go home and commiserate with former Magicians; we have to do something. Now, Immediately, before it's too late."

"It's already too late," Bink said. "The Demon is gone."

"But maybe he hasn't gone far. Maybe he forgot something, and will return to fetch it, and we can trap him-"

"No, that wouldn't be right. I meant it when I freed him, even though I don't like the result of that freedom."

"You have integrity, Bink, inconvenient as it sometimes is. Maybe we can call him back, talk to him, persuade him to give us back a few spells-"

Bink shook his head. "No, nothing we can do will influence the Demon Xanth. He doesn't care at all about our welfare. If you had met him, you'd know."

She turned her head to face him. "Maybe I'd better meet him, then."

"How can I get it through your equine brain!" Bink cried, exasperated. "I told you he's gone!"

"All the same, I want to see where he was. There might be something left. Something you missed. No offense, Bink, but you are only human. If there were some way we could-"

"There is no way!" Bink cried. Chester had been stubborn enough, but this filly-!

"Listen, Bink. You rubbed my nose in the fact of my need of magic. Now I'm rubbing yours in the fact of your need to do something, instead of just giving in. You may tell yourself you're going to fetch help, but actually you're just running away. The solution to our problem is at the prison of the Demon, not at the King's palace. Maybe we'll fail-but we do have to go back there and try." And she started back the way they had come. "You've been there; show me the way."

Involuntarily, he ran along beside her, very much like the foal. "To the cave of the Demon?" he asked incredulously. "There are goblins and demagicked dragons and-"

"To hell with all that obscenity!" she neighed. "Who knows what is happening to Chester now?"

There it was: her ultimate loyalty to her mate. Now that he thought of it that way, his own attitude seemed inferior. Maybe his humanity did make him imperfect. Why hadn't he stayed at least long enough to locate his friend? Because he had been afraid of what he might find. He had, indeed, been running away!

Maybe Chester could be hauled out of the brine and saved without the aid of magic. Maybe Good Magician Humfrey yet survived. A small chance, certainly-but so long as there was any chance at all, Bink was derelict in his duty to his friends by not making every possible effort to find them. He had the sick certainty that they were dead, but even that confirmation would be better than his hiding from the truth.

He climbed back aboard Cherie, and she launched herself onward. They made amazingly good progress. Soon they had passed the place where they had encountered each other, and were galloping across the terrain in the direction Bink indicated. A centaur could really move-but even so, it was almost as if there were some magic enchantment facilitating their progress. That was an illusion, of course, and not a magical one. It was just that Cherie was now goaded by her eagerness to rescue her stallion, foolish as that ambition might be. Bink directed her to the tangle-tree cleft, bypassing the magic-dust village.

As they galloped up, it seemed to Bink that the tangler quivered. That had to be a trick of the fading light, since without magic the monster was impotent.

Cherie drew up to the branch that overlapped the rim of the chasm. "Climbing down a tangle tree-I find that hard to-" She broke off. "Bink, it moved! I saw it!"

"The wind," Bink cried with abrupt illumination. "It rustles the tendrils!"

"Of course!" she agreed, relieved. "For a moment I almost thought-but I knew it wasn't so."

Bink peered down into the crevasse, and spied the crack in its base where the tree's big root crossed. He really did not want to go down there again, but didn't want to admit it. "I-uh-I can swing down on a vine. But you-"

"I can swing down too," she said. "That's why centaurs have strong arms and good chest muscles; we have greater weight to support. Come, Chet." She grasped a large tentacle and stepped off the brink.

Sure enough, she was able to let herself down, hand under hand, with her front legs acting as brakes. Her posterior swung grandly around in a descending spiral until she reached the base. The colt followed her example, though with such difficulty that she hastened to catch him at the base. Embarrassed by their examples, Bink swung down himself. He should have led the way, instead of letting fillies and foals do it!

At the base of the tree, gazing down into the looming black hole that was the aperture to the underworld, Bink had further misgivings. "This descent is worse; I don't think Chet can make it. And how could you climb up again? It nearly killed me getting to the top, and your weight-no offense-"

"Chester could climb it," Cherie said confidently. "Then he could haul the rest of us up."

Bink visualized the muscles of Chester's human torso, and remembered the colossal power of the centaur. Only a monster like the ogre had more strength of arm. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible, especially if they set up a double rope so the rest of them could haul on the other end and help Chester lift himself. But that presumed they would actually find and rescue Chester. If they failed, Cherie herself would be lost, for Bink could never haul her up. He might handle the foal, but that was the limit

Cherie was already testing tangler tentacles for strength. She had faith that banished doubt, and Bink envied her that. He had always thought of Chester as the ornery one, but now he understood that the true strength of the family lay in Cherie. Chester was mere magic putty in her hands-oops, obscene concept!-and so also, it seemed, was Bink. He did not want to return to the horrors of the depths, to battle uselessly against the half-goblins and snake-dragons in the dark. But he knew he would do it, because Cherie was going to rescue her poor dead stallion, or else.

"This one's good," she announced, tugging at a particularly long, stout tentacle that dangled from the very top of the tree. "Bink, you climb up and sever it with your knife."

"Uh, yeah, sure," he said with imperfect enthusiasm. Then he was ashamed of himself. If he was going to do this thing, at least he should do it with some spirit! "Yes, of course." And he started to climb the dread trunk.

He experienced a strange uplift and exhilaration. It was as if a burden had been lifted from his body. In a moment he realized what it was: conscience. Now that he had made his decision, and knew it was right even if suicidal, he was at peace with his conscience, and it was wonderful. This was what Cherie had experienced, which had made her almost fly through the wilderness, her strength expanded. Even without magic, there was magic in a person's attitude.

He reached the point where the tentacles sprouted like grotesque hairs from the apex of the trunk, braced himself with his legs looped about it, and slashed into the base of the selected tentacle. And felt a shudder in the tree reminiscent of the one made by the tangler Crombie had attacked so long ago.

No! he reminded himself immediately. It was not magic. The tree was still alive, it had merely lost its magic and become as Mundane trees. It might feel the pain of the cut, and react, but would not be able to move its tentacles about consciously.

He severed the tentacle and watched it drop. Then he cut a second and a third, to be sure they had enough.

Yet the tree was still shuddering as he descended, and the hanging tentacles seemed to be quivering more than might reasonably be accounted for by the wind. Would it be possible for a tangler to revive without magic? No; it must be the effect of his climbing, shaking the trunk, sending ripples through the vines.

They tied the first tentacle to the root, knotting it with difficulty because of its diameter, and dangled it down. It seemed to swing freely, marvelously limber, so they hauled it back up. With some care they knotted another tentacle to its end, extending its effective length. This time they heard the thump as it struck the rock below.

"I'll go first," Bink said. "Then I'll stand guard with my sword while you lower Chet. There are goblins-uh, have we anything for a light? We need fire to scare away the-"

Cherie gave him a straight stare. "If you were a goblin, would you mess with a centaur foal?" She tapped one forefoot meaningfully.

Bink remembered how he had foiled her attack, not long ago, when he forced her to face the obscene concept. But he was twice the height of a goblin, and armed with a sword, and familiar with centaurs. Most important, he had known that whatever Cherie's rage of the moment, she was his friend, and would not really hurt him. No goblin had any such assurance-and a centaur filly protecting her young would be a terror. "I would not mess with a centaur foal even if I were a dragon," he said.

"I can see in the dark a little when I have to," she continued. "I can hear the echoes of my hooves, so I'll know the approximate contours to the caves. We'll get there."

Without another word Bink leaned down, grasped the tentacle rope, and swung himself into the hole. He handed himself into the depths rapidly, feeling much stronger than he had during the ascent. With surprising suddenness he was past the knot and at the floor. He peered up at the wan illumination above. "Okay-I'm down!"

The rope writhed up as Cherie hauled it. Centaurs had excellent balance for this sort of thing, since they could plant four feet on the ground and devote the full strength of their arms to the task. Soon Chet came swinging down, the rope looped about his middle while he held on lightly with his hands. In all this time he had spoken no word and made no demand or complaint; Bink was sure that would change drastically as Chet matured. Bink untied the little fellow at the base and gave him a pat on the back. "Chets fine!" he called.

Now it was Cherie's turn. She had made it into the crevasse all right, but this was a narrower, darker, longer haul, with a less secure rope, and Bink was privately worried. "Stand clear, in case I should-swing," she called. Bink knew she had almost said "fall." She was well aware of the hazard, but she had courage.

She swung down without event, handing herself along until she neared the floor. Then the narrowing tentacle snapped, dropping her the last few feet. But she landed squarely, unhurt. Bink relaxed. "All right, Bink," she said immediately. "Get on my back and tell me where to go."

Silently Bink went to mount her-and in that silence he heard something. "Something's moving!" he snapped, surprised to discover how nervous he was. "Where's Chet?"

"Right here beside me," she said.

They listened-and now it was plain. A scraping, rustling sound off to the side and up. Definitely not any of them. Yet it didn't sound like goblins, either.

Then Bink saw a snakelike thing writhing between them and the hole, silhouetted by the light. "A tangler root-it's moving!" he exclaimed.

"We must have jarred it loose from the earth," she said. "It's own weight is pulling it free, and its shape makes it twist as it drops."

"Yes." But Bink was uncertain. That looked too much like conscious motion. Could the tangler be animating again? If so, there would be no escape this way!

They started along the cavern trail. Bink found he remembered it fairly well, even in the dark-and he found he could see a little. Maybe some glow remained. Actually, it seemed to get brighter as his eyes adjusted.

"The glow-it's returning," Cherie said.

"I thought it was my imagination," Bink agreed. "Maybe there is some residual magic down here."

They moved on, more rapidly. Bink couldn't help wondering: if the tangler was coming back to life, and the glow was getting brighter, could that mean that magic was returning? The implications were-

Suddenly the passage debouched into-a palace chamber so large he could not readily compass it with his gaze. Jewels sparkled on every side, hanging brilliantly in air. A fountain of scintillating water spread out upside down, its droplets falling back toward the ceiling. Streamers of colored paper formed whirls and whorls that traveled as if by their own volition, tilting sidewise or curling into spirals, only to straighten out again. On every side were fresh wonders, too many to assimilate; in all it was a display of the most phenomenal magic Bink had seen.

There had been no cave like this in this region before! Cherie looked around, as startled as he. "Is-could this be the work of your Demon Xanth?"

As she spoke the name, the Demon X(A/N)th materialized. He sat in a throne of solid diamond. His glowing eye fixed on Bink, who still bestrode Cherie, while the foal pressed closely to her side.

"You are the one I want," X(A/N)th exclaimed. "You stupid nonentity who threw yourself and your whole culture into peril, for no likely gain to either. Such idiocy deserves the penalty it brings."

Bink, awed, nevertheless tried to defend himself. "Why did you return, then? What do you want with me?"

"They have changed the nomenclature system," X(A/N)th replied. "They are into differentials now. I shall have to study that system for an eon or two, lest I apply it with gaucherie, so I am returning to this familiar place for the moment."

"An eon-moment?" Bink asked incredulously.

"Approximately. I brought you here to ensure that my privacy will be preserved. Every entity of this world that knows of me must be abolished."

"Abolished?" Bink asked, stunned.

"Nothing personal," the Demon assured him. "I really don't care about your existence one way or the other. But if my presence is known, other vermin may seek me out-and I want to be left alone. So I must abolish you and the others who are aware of me, preserving my secret. Most of you have already been eliminated; only you and the nymph remain."

"Leave Jewel out of it," Bink pleaded. "She's innocent; she only came because of me. She doesn't deserve-"

"This filly and her foal are innocent too," the Demon pointed out. "This has no relevance."

Cherie turned to face Bink. Her human torso twisted in the supple manner he remembered of old, and her beauty was back to its original splendor. Magic became her, without doubt! "You freed this thing-and this is his attitude? Why doesn't he go elsewhere, where none of us can find him?"

"He's leaked a lot of magic here," Bink said. "It is quiescent without him, but so long as magical creatures like dragons and centaurs remain, we know it hasn't departed entirely. The whole of the Land of Xanth is steeped with it, and this must be more comfortable for him. Like a well-worn shoe, instead of one fresh from the shoe-tree that chafes. The Demon is not of our kind; he has no gratitude. I knew that when I freed him."

"There will be a brief delay before I terminate you," the Demon said. "Make yourselves comfortable."

Despite his immediate peril, Bink was curious. "Why the delay?"

"The nymph has hidden herself, and I do not choose to expend magic wastefully in an effort to locate her."

"But you are omnipotent; waste should have no meaning to you!"

"True-I am omnipotent. But there is proportion in all things. It bothers my sensitivities to use more magic than a given situation warrants. Therefore I am minimizing the effort here. I have amplified your persona. She loves you-I do not pretend to know the meaning of that term-and will come to you here, believing you to be in a danger she can ameliorate. Then I can conveniently abolish you all."

So the return of magic to the Land of Xanth meant the end for Bink and his friends. Yet the rest of Xanth profited, so it was not a total loss. Still-

"I don't suppose you would be satisfied if we simply promised not to reveal your presence, or took a forget-potion?"

"No good," a voice said from Bink's pocket. It was Grundy the golem, back in form with the restoration of magic. He climbed out to perch on Bink's shoulder. "You could never keep such a promise. Magic would have the truth out of you in a moment. Even if you took a forget-potion, it would be neutralized, then the information would be exposed,"

"A truth spell," Cherie agreed. "I should have trusted my original judgment. Magic is a curse."

Bink refused to give up. "Maybe we should reverse it," he told the Demon. "Spread the word to all the land that you are down here, and will destroy anyone who intrudes-"

"You'd encourage ninety-nine nuts to rise to the challenge," Cherie pointed out. "The Demon would be constantly annoyed, and have to waste his magic destroying them one by one."

The Demon looked at her approvingly. "You have an equine rear, but a sapient head," he remarked.

"Centaurs do," she agreed.

"And what do you think of me?"

"You are the absolute epitome of obscenity."

Bink froze, but the Demon laughed. The sound blasted out deafeningly. The magically ornate palace shattered about him, filling the air with debris, but none of it touched them.

"Know something?" Grundy remarked. "He's changing-like me."

"Changing-like you," Bink repeated. "Of course! While his magic was leaking out, infusing the whole Land of Xanth, some of our culture was seeping in, making him a little bit like us. That's why he feels comfortable here. That's why he can laugh. He does have some crude feelings."

Cherie was right on it. "Which means he might respond to a feeling challenge. Can you come up with one?"

"I can try," Bink said. Then, as the Demon's mirth subsided, he said: "Demon, I know a way to protect your privacy. We have a shieldstone, formerly used to protect the whole Land of Xanth from intrusion by outsiders. We valued our privacy as much as you value yours. Nothing living can pass through that shield. All I need to do is tell our King Trent about you, and he will set up the shield to prevent anyone from coming down here. The shield worked for us for over a century; it will work for you too. Then it won't matter who knows about you; every fool who tries to reach you will die, automatically."

The Demon considered. "The notion appeals. But the human mind and motivation are largely foreign to me. How can I be sure your King will honor your request?"

"I know he will," Bink said. "He's a good man, an honest one, and a savvy politician. He will immediately appreciate the need to protect your privacy, and will act on it."

"How sure of that are you?" the Demon asked.

"I'd stake my life on it."

"Your life is insignificant compared to my convenience," the Demon said without humor.

"But my talent is significant in human terms," Bink argued. "It will act in my interest by encouraging the King to-"

"Your talent is nothing to me. I could reverse it by a simple snap of my fingers." The Demon snapped his fingers with a sound like the detonation of a cherry bomb. Bink felt a horribly disquieting internal wrench, "However, your challenge intrigues me. There is a certain element of chance involved that can not occur when I myself undertake a challenge. Therefore I must indulge myself to a certain extent vicariously. You say you shall stake your life on your ability to preserve my privacy. This is really no collateral, since your life is already forfeit, but I'll accept it Shall we gamble?"

"Yes," Bink agreed. "If that's what it takes to save my friends. I'll undertake any-"

"Bink, I don't like this," Cherie said.

"Here is the testing laboratory," the Demon said, indicating a huge pit that appeared as he gestured. Around it were spaced half a dozen doorways. The walls were vertical stone, too high and slick to climb. "And here is the intruder." A monster appeared in the center, a minotaur, with the head and tail and hooves of a bull and the body of a powerful man. "If he escapes this chamber alive, he will intrude on my privacy. You will stop him if you can."

"Done!" Bink cried. He jumped down into the arena, drawing his sword.

The minotaur surveyed him coolly. The return of magic had invigorated Bink, making him feel strong again-and he had never been a physical weakling. The muscles of his arms showed through the tattered shirt, and his body was balanced and responsive. His sword moved with smooth proficiency, buoyed by its magic, and the charmed blade gleamed. The monster decided to pass up the pleasure of this quarrel. It spun on one hoof and walked toward the exit farthest from Bink.

Bink pursued it. "Turn about and fight like a monster!" he cried, unwilling to cut it down from behind.

Instead the creature broke into a run. But Bink's momentum carried him forward faster, and he caught the minotaur before it reached the exit. He hauled on its tail, causing the thing to crash into a wall. Bink put his sword to its throat. "Yield!" he cried.

The minotaur shivered-and became a monster bug, with tremendous pincers, stinger, and mandibles. Bink, startled, stepped back. He was fighting a magic monster-one that could change its form at will! This was going to be a much more formidable challenge than he had, in his naivete, supposed.

What a fool he had been to hold back his sword, expecting this thing to yield! Surely its life, like his own, would be forfeit if it lost. He had to kill it in a hurry, before it killed him-or got away, which amounted to the same thing.

Even while he realized this, the bug was skittering toward the exit. Bink leaped after it, his sword swinging. But the bug had eye-stalks that looked back at him-in fact, it was now a giant slug, sliding along on a trail of slime. Bink's sword swished over its head harmlessly.

He could, however, move faster than a slug, even a large one. Bink jumped over it and reached the exit first, barring the way. He took careful aim and made a two-handed strike at the slug's head, to slice it lengthwise. But his blade clanged off the shell of a snail. The monster had changed again, to the nearest variant that would protect it. Either it was hard-pressed, or it lacked imagination.

Bink gave it no chance to think. He thrust directly into the opening of the shell. This time he scored-on the substance of a big green jellyfish. His blade sliced through it and emerged from the far side, dripping, without really hurting the blob. He carried his stroke on up and out and shook the blade off, disgusted. How could he kill a mass of jelly that sealed up after his cut?

He sniffed. Now he recognized the odor of the thing: lime. Lime-flavored jelly. Was it edible? Could he destroy the monster by eating it?

But as he pondered, the monster changed into a purple vulture the size of a man, Bink leaped for it, trying to slay it before it flew up beyond his reach-and skidded on the remaining patch of lime goo. What a disastrous coincidence!

Coincidence? No-this was his talent operating-in reverse. The Demon had negligently switched it. Now seeming coincidence would always work against Bink, instead of for him. He was his own worst enemy.

Still, he had done all right for himself when his talent had been largely canceled out by the brain coral's magic. What be needed to do now was to minimize the element coincidence played in this battle. His talent never revealed itself openly, so was restricted, awaiting its chance to operate. Everything he did should be so carefully planned that it left virtually nothing to chance. That way, chance could not operate against him.

The bird did not fly. It ran toward the center of the arena. Bink scrambled to his feet and pursued, watching his step. Here was a pebble that he might have tripped over; there was another spot of grease. His prior slip in the jelly had been mainly carelessness. He could minimize that. But why didn't the bird simply fly, while Bink was being so careful of his motions? Probably because the monster was not a Magician. Each form it assumed was about the same mass, and landbound. A good talent, but not an extraordinary one. There were definite limits. King Trent could change a fly into a hephalumph, or a worm into a flying dragon; size and function were of no account. But this monster only changed its form, not its abilities. Good!

Bink stalked the vulture, alert for any move it might make toward the exit. To flee him it would have to turn its back, and then he would strike it down. No element of chance involved there, so no way for his reversed talent to intercede. Bink's early life, when he had not known about his talent, had prepared him for operating without it. His recent adventures, when it had been either neutralized or eliminated entirely, had served as a refresher course. The monster would have to stand and fight, rather than depending on Bink to foul up.

Suddenly it was a man-a burly, tousle-haired brute in tattered clothing, carrying a gleaming sword. The man looked as if he knew his business; in fact he looked familiar.

In fact-it was a replica of Bink himself! The monster was getting smart, fighting sword with sword. "Fair enough!" Bink said, and launched his attack.

As he had guessed, the monster was no swordsman. He might look like Bink, but he couldn't fight the way Bink could! This battle would soon be over!

Bink made a feint, then engaged the other's sword and knocked it out of the monster's hand. He backed the monster up against the wall, ready for the finish. "Bink!" a woman cried in despair. Bink recognized that voice. It was Jewel! Drawn by the spell the Demon had made, she had arrived just at the wrong moment. It had to be the machination of his reversed talent, interfering just in time to save his enemy from destruction. Unless he acted immediately-

"Bink!" she cried again, jumping down into the arena and throwing herself between him and the monster. She smelled of a summer storm. "Why didn't you stay out of the caverns, where you would be safe?" Then she stopped, amazed. "You're both Bink!"

"No, he's the monster," the monster said before Bink spoke. "He's trying to kill an unarmed man!"

"For shame!" Jewel flashed, facing Bink. The storm had become a hurricane, with the odors of sleet and dust and crushed brick, windborne. "Begone, monster!"

"Let's get out of here," the monster said to her, taking her by the arm and walking toward an exit.

"Of all the nerve!" Cherie cried from above. "Get that fool nymph out of there!"

But Jewel stayed with the cunning monster, escorting him toward safety-and a disaster she could not imagine. Bink stood frozen, unable to bring himself to act against Jewel.

"Bink, she'll die too, if you let him go!" Cherie screamed.

That nerved him. Bink launched himself at the pair, catching them each about the waist and hauling them down. He intended to separate them, stab the monster, and explain to Jewel later.

But when he righted himself, he discovered that he had a nymph on each arm. The monster now resembled Jewel-and Bink couldn't tell them apart.

He jumped to his feet, sword ready. "Jewel, identify yourself!" he shouted. The monster could hardly have been smart enough to think of this on its own; Bink's talent had probably decreed such a fortuitous choice of appearances. Bink had not given it any opportunity to catch him in an accident, so it had acted on the monster instead. Coincidence took many forms.

"Me!" the two nymphs cried together, getting to their feet.

Oh, no! They sounded alike, too. "Jewel, I'm fighting a change-shape monster," he cried to them both. "If I don't kill him, he'll kill me. One way or another. I've got to know which one he is." Assuming the monster was male. Bink had to assume that, because he didn't want to kill a female.

"Him!" both nymphs cried, pointing at each other. The scent of skunk cabbage filled the air. Both backed away from each other, and from him.

Worse and worse! Now his talent had the bit in its teeth, determined not to let him prevail. Yet he had to kill the monster, and to spare Jewel. He could not afford to choose randomly.

The nymphs were heading for different exits. Already it was too late to catch both. Upon his choice rested the fate of himself and all his friends-and his infernal talent would surely make him choose wrongly. No matter which one he chose, it would be the wrong one. Somehow. Yet to make no choice would also spell doom.

Bink realized that the only way he could be sure of salvaging anything was to kill them both. The monster, and the nymph-woman who loved him. Appalling decision!

Unless he could somehow trick the monster into revealing itself. (Call it IT: that would be easy to kill!)

"You are the monster!" he cried, and charged the nymph on the right, swinging his sword.

She flicked a glance over her shoulder, saw him, and screamed in mortal terror. And the smell of dragon's breath, the essence of terror, was strong.

Bink completed his swing, avoiding her as she cowered, and hurled his sword at the second nymph, who was almost at the other exit. The one he had decided was really the monster.

But the near-nymph, in her terror, threw up her hands defensively. One hand brushed Bink's sword arm, just as he threw the weapon, fouling his aim. His talent again, using his friend to balk his attack on his enemy!

Yet it was not over. The monster, seeing the approaching blade, leaped to the side-right into the miss thrown sword. The blade struck the chest and plunged through, such was the force of Bink's throw and the charm of the weapon. Transfixed, the monster fell. Two bad lucks had canceled each other out!

Bink, meanwhile, crashed into Jewel, bearing her to the floor. "Sorry," he said. "I had to do it, to make sure-"

"That's quite all right," she said, struggling to get up. Bink got to his own feet and took her by the elbow, helping her. But his eyes were on the dead or dying monster. What was its natural form?

The monster didn't change. It still looked exactly like Jewel, with full bosom, slender waist, healthy hips, ideal legs, and sparkling hair-and blood washing out around the embedded sword. Strange. If the monster was mortally injured, why didn't it revert to form? If it were not, why didn't it scramble up and out the exit?

Jewel drew away from him. "Let me go clean up, Bink," she said. At the moment she smelled of nothing.

Of nothing? "Make a smell," Bink said, grabbing her arm again.

"Bink, let me go!" she cried, pulling toward the exit.

"Make a smell!" he growled, twisting her arm behind her back.

Suddenly he held a tangle tree. Its vines twisted to grab him, but they lacked the strength of a real tangler, even a dwarf species. Bink clamped both his arms about the tree, squeezing the tentacles in against the trunk, hard.

The tree became a squat sea serpent. Bink hunched his head down and continued squeezing. The serpent became a two-headed wolf whose jaws snapped at Bink's ears. He squeezed harder; he could afford to lose an ear in order to win the battle. The wolf became a giant tiger lily, snarling horrendously, but Bink was crushing its stem.

Finally it got smart. It changed into a needle cactus. The needles stabbed into Bink's arms and face-but he did not let go. The pain was terrible, but he knew that if he gave the monster any leeway at all it would change into something he couldn't catch, or his talent would arrange some coincidental break for it. Also, he was angry: because of this creature, he had cut down an innocent nymph, whose only fault was loving him. He had assumed that jinxes had canceled out when his mis-thrown sword cut her down, but that had not been the case. What an awful force his talent could be! His hands and face were bleeding, and a needle was poking into one eye, but Bink squeezed that cactus-torso with the passion of sheer hate until it squirted white fluid.

The thing dissolved into foul-smelling goo. Bink could no longer hold on; there was nothing to grasp. But he tore at the stuff with his hands, flinging gobs of it across the arena, and stomped the main mass flat. Could the monster survive dismemberment, even in this stage?

"Enough," the Demon said, "You have beaten it." He gestured negligently, and abruptly Bink was fit and clean again, without injury-and somehow he knew his talent was back to normal. The Demon had been testing him, not his talent. He had won-but at what cost?

He ran to Jewel-the real Jewel-reminded of the time Chameleon had been similarly wounded. But the Evil Magician had done that, while this time Bink himself had done it. "You desire her?" the Demon asked. "Take her along." And Jewel was whole and lovely, smelling of gardenias, just as if she had been dunked in healing elixir. "Oh, Bink!" she said-and fled the arena.

"Let her go," Cherie said wisely. "Only time can heal the wound that doesn't show."

"But I can't let her think I meant to-"

"She knows you didn't mean to hurt her, Bink. Or she will know, when she thinks it out at leisure. But she also knows that she has no future with you. She is a creature of the caverns; the openness of the surface world would terrify her. Even if you weren't married, she could not leave her home for you. Now that you're safe, she has to go."

Bink stared the way Jewel had gone. "I wish there were something I could do."

"You can leave her alone," Cherie said firmly. "She must make her own life."

"Good horse sense," Grundy the golem agreed.

"I will permit you to perform the agreed task in your fashion," the Demon said to Bink. "I hold no regard for you or your welfare, but I do honor the conditions of a wager. All I want from your society is that it not intrude on my private demesnes. If it does, I might be moved to do something you would be sorry for-such as cauterizing the entire surface of the planet with a single sheet of fire. Now have I conveyed my directive in a form your puny intellect can comprehend?"

Bink did not regard his intellect as puny, compared to that of the Demon. The creature was omnipotent, not omniscient: all-powerful, not all-knowing. But it would not be politic to remark on that at the moment. Bink had no doubt that the Demon could and would obliterate all life in the Land of Xanth, if irritated. Thus it was in Bink's personal interest to keep the Demon happy, and to see that no other idiots like him intruded. So his talent would extend itself toward that end-as X(A/N)th surely was aware. "Yes."

Then Bink had a bright flash. "But it would be easier to ensure your privacy if there were no loose ends, like lost Magicians or pickled centaurs-"

Cherie perked up alertly. "Bink, you're a genius!"

"This Magician?" Xanth inquired. He reached up through the ceiling and brought down a gruesome skeleton. "I can reanimate him for you-"

Bink, after his initial shock, saw that this skeleton was much larger than any Humfrey could have worn. "Uh, not that one," he said, relieved. "Smaller, like a-a gnome. And alive."

"Oh, that one," X(A/N)th said. He reached through a wall and brought back Good Magician Humfrey, disheveled but intact.

"About time you got to me," Humfrey grumped. "I was running out of air, under that rubble."

Now the Demon reached down through the floor. He brought back Chester, encased in a glistening envelope of lake water. As he set the centaur down, the envelope burst; the water evaporated, and Chester looked around.

"So you went swimming without me!" Cherie said severely. "Here I stay home tending your colt while you gad about-"

Chester scowled. "I gad about because you spend all your time with the colt!"

"Uh, there's no need-" Bink interposed.

"Stay out of this," she murmured to him with a wink. Then, to Chester, she flared: "Because he is just like you! I can't keep you from risking your fool tail on stupid, dangerous adventures, you big dumb oaf, but at least I have him to remind me of-"

"If you paid more attention to me, I'd stay home more!" he retorted.

"Well, I'll pay more attention to you now, horse-head," she said, kissing him as the arena dissolved and a more cozy room formed about them. "I need you."

"You do?" he asked, gratified. "What for?"

"For making another foal, you ass! One that looks just like me, that you can take out for runs-"

"Yeah," he agreed with sudden illumination. "How about getting started right now!" Then he looked about, remembering where he was, and actually blushed. The golem smirked. "Uh, in due course."

"And you can run some with Chet, too," she continued. "So you can help him find his talent." There was no hint of the discomfort she must have suffered getting the word out.

Chester stared at her. "His-you mean you-"

"Oh, come on, Chester," she snapped. "You're wrong ten times a day. Can't I be wrong once in my life? I can't say I like it, but since magic seems to be part of the centaur's heritage, I'll simply have to live with it. Magic does have its uses; after all, it brought you back." She paused, glancing at him sidelong. "In fact, I might even be amenable to a little flute music,"

Startled, Chester looked at her, then at Bink, realizing that someone had blabbed. "Perhaps that can be arranged-in decent privacy. After all, we are centaurs."

"You're such a beast," she said, flicking her tail at him. Bink covered a smile. When Cherie learned a lesson, she learned it well!

"Which seems to cover that situation sufficiently, tedious as it has been," the Demon said. "Now if you are all quite ready to depart, never to return-"

Yet Bink was not quite satisfied. He did not trust this sudden generosity on the part of the Demon. "You're really satisfied to be forever walled off from our society?"

"You can not wall me off," the Demon pointed out. "I am the source of magic. You will only wall you off. I will watch and participate anytime I choose-which will probably be never, as your society is of little interest to me. Once you depart, I forget you."

"You ought at least to thank Bink for freeing you," Cherie said.

"I thank him by sparing his ridiculous life," X(A/N)th said, and if Bink hadn't known better he might have thought the Demon was nettled.

"He earned his life!" she retorted. "You owe him more than that!"

Bink tried to caution her. "Don't aggravate him," he murmured. "He can blink us all into nothingness-"

"Without even blinking," the Demon agreed. One eyelid twitched as if about to blink.

"Well, Bink could have left you to rot for another thousand years, without blinking himself," she cried heedlessly. "But he didn't Because he has what you will never understand: humanity!"

"Filly, you intrigue me," X(A/N)th murmured. "It is true I am omnipotent, not omniscient-but I believe I could comprehend human motive if I concentrated on it."

"I dare you!" she cried.

Even Chester grew nervous at this. "What are you trying to do, Cherie?" he asked her. "Do you want us all extinguished?"

The Demon glanced at Grundy. "Half-thing, is there substance to her challenge?"

"What's in it for me?" the golem demanded.

The Demon lifted one finger. Light coalesced about Grundy. "That."

The light seemed to draw into the golem-and lo, Grundy was no longer a thing of clay and string. He stood on living legs, and had a living face. He was now an elf.

"I-I'm real!" he cried. Then, seeing the Demon's gaze upon him, he remembered the question. "Yes, there is substance! It's part of being a feeling creature. You have to laugh, to cry, to experience sorrow and gratitude and-and it's the most wonderful thing-"

"Then I shall cogitate on it," the Demon said. "In a century or so, when I have worked out my revised nomenclature." He returned to Cherie. "Would one gift satisfy you, feeling filly?"

"I don't need anything," she said. "I already have Chester. Bink is the one."

"Then I grant Bink one wish."

"No, that's not it! You have to show you understand by giving him something nice that he would not have thought of himself."

"Ah, another challenge," the Demon said. He pondered. Then he reached out and lifted Cherie in one hand. Bink and Chester jumped with alarm, but it was not a hostile move. "Would this suffice?" The Demon put her to his mouth. Again Bink and Chester jumped, but the Demon was only whispering, his mouth so large that the whisper shook her whole body. Yet the words were inaudible to the others.

Cherie perked up. "Why yes, that would suffice! You do understand!" she exclaimed.

"Merely interpolation from observed gestures of his kind." The Demon set her down, then nicked another finger. A little globe appeared in air, sailing toward Bink, who caught it. It seemed to be a solid bubble. "That is your wish-the one you must choose for yourself," the Demon said. "Hold the sphere before you and utter your wish, and anything within the realm of magic will be yours."

Bink held up the globe. "I wish that the men who were restored from stone by the absence of magic, so they could return to the village of magic dust, will remain restored now that magic is back," he said. "And that the lady griffin will not turn back to gold. And that all the things killed by the loss of magic, like the brain coral-"

The Demon made a minor gesture of impatience. "As you see, the bubble did not burst. That means your wish does not qualify, for two reasons. First, it is not a selfish one; you gain nothing for yourself by it. Second, those stone and gold spells can only be restored by reapplication of their inputs; once interrupted, they are gone. None of those people have returned to stone or gold, and none of the similar spells in your land have been reinstated. Only magic life has been restored, such as that of the golem and the coral The other spells are like fire: they burn continuously once started, but once doused remain out. Do not waste my attention on such redundancy; your wish must go for a selfish purpose."

"Oh," Bink said, taken aback. "I can't think of any wish of that kind."

"It was a generous notion, though," Cherie murmured to him.

The Demon waved his hand. "You must carry the wish until it is expended. Enough; I become bored with this trivia."

And the party stood in the forest that Bink and Cherie and the colt had left It was as if the Demon had never been-except for the sphere. And Bink's friends, restored. And the reviving magic of the forest. Even Cherie seemed satisfied with that magic, now, Bink shook his head and pocketed the wish-globe. All he wanted to do now was to get home to Chameleon, and he needed no special magic for that

"I'll carry Bink, as usual," Chester said. "Cherie, you carry the Magician-" He paused. "Crombie! We forgot the loud-beaked griffin!"

Bink felt in his pocket. "No, I have him here in the bottle. I can release him now-"

"No, let him stew there a while longer," Chester decided. Evidently he had not quite forgiven the soldier for the savage fight the two had had.

"Maybe that's best," Cherie agreed. "He was in a life-and-death struggle when he was confined. He might come out fighting,"

"Let him come!" Chester said belligerently.

"I think it would be better to wait," Bink said. "Just in case."

It was dusk, but they moved on rapidly. The monsters of the night seemed to hold no terror, after their adventure. Bink knew he could use his stored wish to get them out of trouble if he had to. Or he could release Crombie and let him handle it. Most of the more dangerous wilderness entities were still recovering from the shock of the temporary loss of magic, and were not aggressive.

Chester had a problem, however. "I have paid the fee for an Answer," he reminded the Good Magician. "But I found my talent by myself. Now I could ask about Cherie's talent-"

"But I already know it," Cherie said, coloring slightly at this confession of near-obscenity. "Don't waste your Question on that!"

"You know your talent?" Chester repeated, startled. "What-"

"I'll tell you another time," she said modestly.

"But that leaves me without a wish-I mean without an Answer," he said. "I paid for it with my life, but don't know what to ask."

"No problem," Humfrey said. "I could tell you what to ask."

"You could?" Then Chester saw the trap. "But that would use it up! I mean, your telling me the Question would use up the Answer-and then I wouldn't have the Answer to my Question!"

"That does seem to present a problem," Humfrey agreed. "You might elect to pay another fee-"

"Not by the hair of your handsome tail!" Cherie cried. "No more adventures away from home!"

"Already my freedom is slipping away," Chester muttered, not really displeased.

Bink listened glumly. He was glad to be getting home, but still felt guilt about what had happened to Jewel. He had a wish-but he knew he could not simply wish Jewel out of love with him. Her love was real, not magical, and could not be abolished magically. Also, how would Chameleon react to this matter? He would have to tell her

They galloped up to the palace as night became complete. The grounds were illuminated by shining luna moths whose fluttering green radiance gave the palace an unearthly beauty.

Queen Iris was evidently alert, for three moons rose to brighten the palace as they entered, and there was a fanfare from invisible trumpets. They were promptly ushered to the library, the King's favorite room.

Without ceremony, Bink told his story. King Trent listened without interrupting. As Bink concluded, he nodded. "I shall make arrangements to set the shield as you suggested," the King said at last. "I think we will not publicize the presence of the Demon, but we shall see that no one intrudes on him,"

"I knew you would see it that way," Bink said, relieved. "I-I had no idea there would be such a consequence to my quest. It must have been terrible here, without magic."

"Oh, I had no trouble," the King said. "I spent twenty years in Mundania, remember. I still have a number of little unmagic mannerisms about me. But Iris was verging on a nervous breakdown, and the rest of the kingdom was not much better off. Still, I believe the net effect was beneficial; citizens really appreciate their magic, now."

"I suppose so," Bink agreed. "I never realized how important magic was, until I saw Xanth without it. But here in our group we're left with distressing magical loose ends. Chester has a surplus Answer, and I have a wish I can't use, and Crombie is confined-"

"Ah, yes," the King agreed. "We'd better reconstitute him now."

Bink uncorked the bottle, releasing Crombie. The griffin coalesced. "Squawk!" he proclaimed.

"About time," Grundy translated.

King Trent looked at the griffin-and it became a man. "Well," Crombie said, patting himself to make certain of his condition. "You didn't need to leave me bottled up. I could hear what was going on, all the time." He turned to Chester. "And you, you hoof-headed hulk-I only fought you because the coral controlled me. You didn't have to be scared of me once that was settled."

Chester swelled up. "Scared of you! You featherbrained punk-"

"Anytime you want to try it again, horsetail-"

"That will suffice," the King said gently, and both shut up, albeit with imperfect grace.

King Trent smiled, returning his attention to Bink. "Sometimes you miss the obvious, Bink. Let Chester give his Answer to you."

"To me? But it's his-"

"Sure, you can have it," Chester said. "I don't need it"

"But I already have a wish I can't use, and-"

"Now you use Chester's Question to ask the Good Magician what to do with your wish," the King said.

Bink turned to Humfrey. The man was snoring quietly in a comfortable chair. There was an awkward pause.

Grundy went up and jogged the Magician's ankle. "Get with it, midge."

Humfrey woke with a small start. "Give it to Crombie," the Magician said before Bink opened his mouth, and lapsed back into sleep.

"What?" Chester demanded. "The Answer I sweated for only brings a free wish to this bird?"

Bink marveled himself, but handed the wish-bubble to Crombie. "May I ask what you mean to use it for?"

Crombie fidgeted a moment, an unusual performance for him. "Uh, Bink, you remember that nymph, the one who-"

"Jewel," Bink agreed. "I dread trying to explain about her to-"

"Well, I-uh, you see, I had this fragment of the magic mirror in the bottle, and I used it to check on Sabrina, and-"

"I fear consistency was never her strong suit," the King interposed. "I don't believe you two were right for each other anyway."

"What about her?" Bink asked, perplexed.

"She was two-timing me," Crombie said, scowling. "Right when she had me on the verge-but the other guy is married, so she was going to let on the kid was mine, and-I knew I couldn't trust a woman!"

So Sabrina had deserted Crombie, as she had deserted Bink himself, before he knew Chameleon. Yet she connived to marry Crombie anyway-and it had been fated that he would have to marry her unless he married someone else first "I'm sorry," Bink said. "But I think it would be best simply to let her go. No sense wasting a wish for vengeance."

"No, that's not what I had in mind," Crombie assured him. "I wouldn't trust any woman now. But I think I could love a nymph-"

"Jewel?" Bink asked, amazed.

"I don't expect you to believe this," Crombie said seriously. "I don't really believe it myself. But a soldier has to face realities. I lost the battle before it started. There I was, lying in that cleft where you had slain me, Bink. I don't blame you for that; it was a hell of a good fight, but I was really hurting. Suddenly she came, smelling of pine needles and gardenias, bringing the healing elixir. I never saw anything so sweet in my life. She was weak and hesitant, just like a nymph. No threat to any man, least of all a soldier. No competition. The kind of female I could really get along with. And the way she stood by you-" Crombie shook his head. "That's why I went back in the bottle, after pointing out the antidote for you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt that nymph, and killing you would have torn her up. And if you got the antidote, you'd get out of love with her, which was how I wanted you. She's lovely and loyal. But since she still loves you-"

"That's hopeless," Bink said. "I'll never see her again, and even if I did-" He shrugged. "There can be nothing between us."

"Right. So if you don't mind, I'll just take this wish and wish her to drink some of that love potion-and to see me next thing. Then she'll feel about me the way you felt about her. Only I'll be available, seeing as I have to marry someone anyway."

And Crombie was a dashing soldier and a handsome man. Inevitably the love the potion started would become real. The hurt Jewel felt for what Bink had done to her, striking her down with his sword, would make the transition easier. Except-"But you like to travel about," Chester said before Bink could formulate the same objection. "She lives below, planting precious stones. That's her job; she wouldn't leave it"

"So we'll separate-and rejoin," Crombie said. "I'll be seeing her part-time, not all the time. That's the way I like it. I'm a soldier."

And that, neatly, solved Bink's problem. "What about me?" Grundy demanded. "Without birdbeak, I have no job. I'm real, now; I can't just disappear."

"There is occasional need for translation around this court," the King said, "We shall find employment for you." He glanced about "That about suffices for tonight. Quarters have been arranged for all of you, here at the palace." With that he ushered them out. Bink was last to go. "I-I'm sorry I caused all this trouble," he said. "The Good Magician tried to warn me, and so did Beauregard the demon, but I wouldn't listen. Just because I wanted to know the source of magic-"

"Have no concern, Bink," the King said with a reassuring smile. "I was aware that there was an element of risk when I sent you-but I was as curious about the source of magic as you, and I felt that it was best to have the discovery made by you, protected by your talent I knew your talent would see you through."

"But my talent was lost when the magic went, and-"

"Was it, Bink? Didn't it strike you that the Demon's return was unusually fortuitous?"

"Well, he wanted a private place to-"

"Which he could have arranged anywhere in the universe. What really brought him back? I submit that it was your talent, still looking out for your long-range interests. Your marriage was in trouble, so your magic indulged in an extraordinary convolution to set it straight."

"I-I can't believe my talent could operate to affect the origin of magic itself!" Bink protested.

"I have no such difficulty. The process is called feedback, and it can and does reflect profoundly on the origin. Life itself may be regarded as a feedback process. But even if that were not the case, your talent could have anticipated the chain of events, and established a course that would inevitably bring magic back to the Land of Xanth, much as an arrow shot into the air inevitably returns-"

"Uh, when we fought the constellations, Chester's arrows didn't-"

The King shook his head. "Forgive an inept analogy. I shall not bore you further with my Mundane perspective. I am satisfied with the result of your quest, and you should be satisfied too. I suspect that had any other person released the Demon, X(A/N)th would never have returned to our realm. At this point the matter is academic. We shall have to find another occupation for you, but there is no rush. Go home to your wife and son."

"Son?"

"Oh, did I forget to inform you? As of dusk you became the father of a Magician-class baby, my likely successor to the throne-in due course. I suggest that infant's talent is the Demon's selected gift to you, and perhaps another reason your own talent put you through this adventure."

"What talent does the baby have?" Bink asked, feeling giddy. His son-an overt Magician at birth!

"Oh, I wouldn't spoil the surprise by telling you! Go home and see for yourself!" King Trent clapped him heartily on the shoulder. "Your home life will never be dull again!"

Bink found himself on his way. Talents never repeated in the Land of Xanth, except maybe among fiends, so his son could not be a transformer like the King or a storm master like the prior King, or a magic-adapter like King Roogna who had built Castle Roogna, or an illusionist like Queen Iris. What could it be, that showed so early?

As he approached the cabin at the edge of the palace estate, and smelled the faint residual odor of cheese from the cottage, Bink's thoughts turned to Chameleon. It had been only a week since he had left her, but it seemed like a year. She would be in her normal phase now, ordinary in appearance and intelligence: his favorite. Their mutual worry about the prospects of their baby was over; the boy was not variable like her, or seemingly without talent like him. His love for her had been tested most severely, by the love potion and availability of a most desirable alternative. What a relief to have Crombie going after Jewel…though that could be another action of his talent. At any rate, now Bink knew how much he loved Chameleon. He might never have realized, had he not had this adventure. So the King was right; he-

Someone emerged from the cabin. She cast a triple shadow in the light of the three moons, and she was beautiful. He ran to meet her with an exclamation of joy, grabbed her and-discovered it was not Chameleon.

"Millie!" he exclaimed, turning her hastily loose. She had phenomenal sex appeal, but all he wanted was Chameleon. "Millie the ghost! What are you doing here?"

"Taking care of your wife," Millie said. "And your son. I think I'm going to like being a nursemaid again. Especially to so important a person."

"Important?" Bink asked blankly.

"He talks to things!" she blurted enthusiastically. I mean, he goo-goos at them, and they answer back. His crib sang him a lullaby, his pillow quacked like a duck, a rock warned me not to trip over it so I wouldn't drop the Magician-"

"Communication with the inanimate!" Bink breathed, seeing the significance of it. "He'll never get lost, because every rock will give him directions. He'll never be hungry, because a lake will tell him the best place to fish, or a tree-no, not a tree, that's alive-some rock will tell him where to find fruit. He'll be able to learn more news than the Good Magician Humfrey, and without consorting with demons! Though some of my best friends are demons, like Beauregard…No one will be able to betray him, because the very walls will tell him about any plots. He-"

A grim shape loomed out of the dark, dripping clods of earth, Bink gripped his sword.

"Oh, no, it's all right!" Millie cried. "That's only Jonathan!"

"That's no man-that's a zombie!" Bink protested.

"He's an old friend of mine," she said. "I knew him back when Castle Roogna was new. Now that I'm alive again, he feels responsible for my welfare."

"Oh." Bink sensed a story there-but at the moment he only wanted to see his wife and son. "Was he the zombie I met-?"

"In the garden," she agreed. "He got lost in the Queen's maze, the night of the anniversary party. Then he came to me, inside, and got pickled. It took quite a spell to undo that! Now we're looking for a spell to make him alive again, too, so we can-" She blushed delicately. Obviously the zombie had been more than a friend, in life. Millie had displayed an embarrassing interest in Bink himself, during that party, but it seemed the appearance of the zombie ended that. Another loose end Bink's talent had neatly tied up.

"When my son gets older we can have him ask about that," Bink said. "There must be some rock, somewhere, that knows where a spell to restore zombies would be."

"Oh, yes!" Millie cried ecstatically. "Oh, thank you!"

Bink faced the zombie, but did not offer to shake hands. "I think you were another omen for me, Jonathan. When I met you the first time, it signaled death with all its horrors: the death of magic. But through that death I found a kind of rebirth-and so will you."

Bink turned to the door of the cottage, ready to join his family.

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