The Source of Magic (31 page)

Time passed. Jewel placed diamonds, opals, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, jades, and many garnets in the rocks along the river, and sprinkled pearls in the water for the oysters to find “Oysters just love pearls,” she explained. “They just gobble them up.” She sang as she worked, alternating with
Chester’s flute, while Bink’s attention roved from her to the water and back again. He could, indeed, have encountered a worse subject for the potion to fix on!

Then the river opened out into another lake. “This is the abode of the demons, who are able to drink and use the tainted water,” Jewel cautioned them. “The demons know me, but the two of you will have to obtain a permit to pass through their territory. They don’t like trespassers.”

Bink felt Chester’s motion behind him, as of hand touching bow and sword. They had had trouble with fiends; they didn’t need trouble with demons!

The cavern walls became carved to resemble stone buildings, with squared-off corners and alleys between: very like a city. Bink had never actually seen a city, except in pictures; the early settlers of Xanth had made cities, but with the decline in population these had disappeared.

Bink and Chester dismounted and walked beside the worm, here on the street. Soon a magic wagon rolled up. It resembled a monster-drawn coach, but lacked the monster. The wheels were fat bouncy donuts of rubber, and the body seemed to be metal. A purring emanated from the interior. There was probably a little monster inside, pedaling the wheels.

“Where’s the fire?” the demon demanded from the coach. He was blue, and the top of his head was round and flat like a saucer.

“Right here, Blue Steel,” Jewel said, clapping one hand to her bosom. “Will you issue a ticket for my friends? They’re looking for the source of magic.”

“The source of magic!” another voice exclaimed. There were, Bink now saw, two demons in the vehicle; the second was of coppery hue. “That’s a matter for the Chief!”

“All right, Copper,” Jewel agreed. She evidently knew these demons well enough to banter with them. Bink suffered a sharp green pang of jealousy.

Jewel guided them to a building marked
PRECINCT STATION
and parked the worm. “I must remain with the diggle to sing him a song,” she said. “You go in and see the Chief; I will wait.”

Now Bink was afraid she would not wait, that she would take this opportunity to leave them, to betray them to the demons. That way she would be safe from pursuit, either vengeful or romantic. But he had to trust her. After all, he loved her.

The demon inside sat at a broad desk, poring over a book. He glanced up as they entered. “Ah, yes—we were fated to meet again,” he said.

“Beauregard!” Bink exclaimed, amazed.

“I’ll issue the permits, of course,” the demon said. “You were the specific instrument of my release, according to the rules of the game, and I feel an undemonly obligation. But allow me to entertain you properly, as you entertained me at the ogre’s domicile. There is much you must be advised of before you pursue your quest further.”

“Uh, there’s a nymph waiting outside—” Bink said.

Beauregard shook his head. “You do seem to be jinxed; Bink. First you lose the bottle, then your heart. But never fear, we’ll include the nymph in the party. We shall entertain the diggle at our motor pool; he will enjoy the swim. We know Jewel well; in fact, you could hardly have been more fortunate in your misfortune.”

In due course Jewel joined them for supper. It was hard to believe that dawn had been at the fringe of the Region of Madness, in a tree, and breakfast had been at the lake castle of the fiends, lunch with the nymph, and supper here—all in the same day. Down here under the ground day had less meaning; still, it had been an eventful period.

The demon’s meal was similar to the nymph’s, only it was fashioned from minute magic creatures called yeast and bacteria. Bink wondered whether there were frontteria too, but didn’t ask. Some of the food was like squash, which had been squashed only minutes before; some resembled roast haunch of medium-long pig. Dessert was the frozen eye of a scream bird. Genuine eye scream was a rare delicacy, and so was this yellow flavored imitation.

“I sampled the eye of a smilk once,” Chester said. “But it was not as good as this.”

“You have good taste,” Beauregard said.

“Oh, no! Centaur eyes have inferior flavor,” Chester said quickly.

“You are too modest.” But the demon smiled reassuringly. “Screams have more fat than smilks, so their eyes provide more flavor, as you recognized.”

After the repast they retired to Beauregard’s den, where a tame firedrake blazed merrily. “Now we shall provide you excellent accommodations for the night,” the demon said. “We shall not interfere in any way with your quest. However—”

“What is it you know, that we don’t?” Bink asked anxiously.

“I know the nature of demons,” Beauregard said.

“Oh, we don’t plan to bother you here! We’re going on to—”

“Bear with me, Bink.” Beauregard brought out a fancy little bottle, uttered an obscure word, and made a mystic gesture. The cork popped out, vapor issued forth, and formed into—Good Magician Humfrey.

Amazed, Bink could only ask: “But where is Crombie?”

“Back in the bottle,” Humfrey said shortly. “It would help if you recovered your fumble promptly.”

“But if Beauregard can rescue you—”

“I have not rescued him,” the demon said. “I have conjured him. He must now do my bidding.”

“Just as you once did
his
bidding!” Bink said.

“Correct. It all depends on who is confined, and who possesses the controlling magic. The Magician has dabbled in demonology; he is now subject to our humanology.”

“But does that mean—”

“No, I shall not abuse the situation. My interest is in research, not ironies. I merely make this demonstration to convince you that there is more to magic than you may have supposed, and that the possible consequences of your quest may be more extensive than you would care to risk.”

“I already know something is trying to stop me,” Bink said.

“Yes. It is some kind of demon—and that is the problem. Most demons have no more magic than most humans do, but the demons of the depths are something else. They are to ordinary
demons like me as Magicians are to ordinary people like you. It is not wise to venture into their demesnes.”

“You’re a demon,” Chester said suspiciously. “Why are you telling us this?”

“Because he’s a good demon,” Jewel said. “He helps people.”

“Because I care about the welfare of Xanth,” Beauregard said. “If I were convinced Xanth would be better off without people, I would work toward that end. But though I have had doubt on occasion, so far I believe the species of man is a net benefit.” He looked at the Magician. “Even gnomes like him.”

Humfrey merely stood there. “Why don’t you set him free, then?” Bink asked, not wholly trusting the demon.

“I can not free him. Only the holder of his container can do that.”

“But here he is! You summoned him from your bottle!”

“My magic has granted me a temporary lease on his service. I can only evoke him briefly, and can not keep him. If I had
his
bottle, then I could control him, since he was so foolish as to confine himself in that manner. That is why you must recover that bottle, before—”

“Before it breaks!” Bink said.

“It will never break. It is an enchanted bottle; I know, for I occupied it, and made sure it was secure. No, the danger is that your enemy will recover it first.”

Bink was appalled. “The enemy!”

“For then that enemy would control the Magician, and all Humfrey’s power would be at the enemy’s service. In that event, Humfrey’s chances of surviving would be poor—almost as poor as yours.”

“I must get that bottle!” Bink cried. “If only I knew where it is!”

“That is the service I require,” Beauregard said. “Magician, inform Bink of your precise location, so he can rescue you.”

“Latitude twenty-eight degrees northwest, longitude one hundred and—”

“Not that way, simpleton!” Beauregard interrupted. “Tell it so he can use it!”

“Er, yes,” Humfrey agreed. “Perhaps we’d better put Crombie on.”

“Do it,” the demon snapped.

The griffin appeared beside the Magician. “Say, yes,” Bink said eagerly. “If we have him point out your direction from here, I mean our direction from there, we can reverse it to reach you.”

“Won’t work,” Beauregard said. But Crombie was already whirling. His wing came to rest pointing directly at Bink.

“Fine,” Bink said. “We’ll go that way.”

“Try walking across the den,” Beauregard said. “Griffin, hold that point.”

Perplexed, Bink walked. Crombie didn’t move, but his pointing wing continued aiming at Bink. “It’s just a picture!” Bink explained. “No matter how you look at it, it looks right at you.”

“Precisely,” the demon agreed. “This conjuration is in a certain respect an image. The same aspect appears regardless of the orientation of the viewer. To orient on the conjuration is useless; it is the original we require.”

“Easily solved, demon,” Humfrey snapped. “Crombie, point out the direction of our bottle as viewed from the locale of the conjuration.”

How simple! The conjuration was
here
, so this would give the proper direction to
there
. But would it work?

The griffin whirled and pointed again. This time the wing aimed away from Bink, and downward.

“That is the way you must go,” Beauregard said gravely. “Now before I banish the image, have you any other questions?”

“I do,” Chester said. “About my talent—”

Beauregard smiled. “Very clever, centaur. I think you have the mind of a demon! It is indeed possible, in this situation, for you to obtain the information you seek without incurring the Magician’s normal fee, if your ethics permit such exploitation.”

“No,” Chester said. “I’m not trying to cheat! Magician, I
know my talent now. But I’ve already served part of the fee, and am stuck for the rest.”

Humfrey smiled. “I never specified the Question I would Answer. Pick another Question for the fee. That was part of the agreement.”

“Say, good,” Chester said, like a colt with sudden access to the farthest and greenest pasture. He pondered briefly. “Cherie—I’d sure like to know
her
talent, if she has one. A magical one, I mean. Her and her less-magical-than-thou attitude—”

“She has a talent,” Humfrey said. “Do you wish the Answer now?”

“No. I might figure it out myself, again.”

The Magician spread his hands. “As you prefer. However, we are not insured against accidents of fate. If you don’t solve it, and Bink doesn’t find my bottle before the enemy does, I may be forced to renege. Do you care to take that risk?”

“What do you mean, before the enemy does?” Bink demanded. “How close is the enemy to—”

“That is what we were discussing before,” Beauregard said. “It seems the Magician can not be protected from his own information-talent. He is correct: that bottle has been carried very close to the region your enemy inhabits, and it is very likely that the enemy is aware of that. Thus this is not a routine search for the bottle, but a race against active opposition.”

“But what is the nature of the enemy?” Bink demanded.

“Begone, Magician,” Beauregard said. Humfrey and Crombie converted into smoke and swirled into the bottle. “I can not answer that Question directly, other than to remind you that the enemy must be some sort of demon. Therefore I spare myself the embarrassment of confessing my ignorance in the presence of my human counterpart in research. Professional rivalry, you might say.”

“I don’t care about professional rivalry!” Bink retorted. “The Good Magician and Crombie are my friends. I’ve got to save them!”

“You’re loyal,” Jewel said admiringly.

“The thing you must understand,” Beauregard continued, “is
that as you approach the source of magic, the magic of the immediate environment becomes stronger, in a function resembling a logarithmic progression. Therefore—”

“I don’t understand that,” Bink said. “What have logs to do with it? Is the enemy a tree?”

“He means the magic gets stronger faster as you get closer,” Chester explained. Centaurs had excellent mathematical comprehension.

“Precisely” the demon agreed. “Thus we demons, being more proximate to the source, tend to be more magical than you creatures at the fringe. But in the immediate vicinity of the source, the magic is far stronger than we can fathom. Therefore I can not identify your specific enemy or describe his magic—but it is likely that it is stronger magic than you have encountered before.”

“I’ve met pretty strong magic,” Bink said dubiously.

“Yes, I know. And you have extremely strong magic yourself. But this—well, though I have never been able to fathom the precise nature of your talent, therefore my prior remark about you being an ordinary individual, empirical data suggest that it relates to your personal welfare. But at the source—”

“Suddenly I understand,” Bink said. “Where I’m going, the magic is stronger than mine.”

“Just so. Thus you will be vulnerable in a manner you have not been before. Your own magic suffers enhancement as you proceed, but only in a geometric ratio. Therefore it can not—”

“He means the enemy magic gets stronger faster than our magic,” Chester said. “So we’re losing power proportionately.”

“Precisely,” the demon agreed. “The nature of the curves suggests that the differential will not become gross until you are extremely close to the source, so you may not be much inconvenienced by it, or even aware of it. Still—”

“So if I continue,” Bink said slowly, “I’ll come up against an enemy who is stronger than I am.”

“Correct. Because the strength of the magic field of Xanth varies inversely with distance, on both an individual and environmental basis—”

“What about the magic dust?” Chester demanded.

“That does indeed enhance magic in its vicinity” Beauregard agreed. “But it is not the major avenue for the distribution of magic. The dust is basically convective, while most magic is conductive. Were that village to close down its operations, the magic of Xanth would continue only slightly abated.”