"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 sh
ould--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.