The Source of Magic (36 page)

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.

“_________,” 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 meaning-lessness, 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
, 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.”