The Source of Magic (35 page)

“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 friend—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. “He’ll 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 sup 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.

“T
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—