So now the test of his mettle was upon him. How could he solve the riddle of the balked talent? Obviously straight direction was not the answer to the question of out. Yet Crombie's talent was directional. He asked where something was, and it snowed the direction. If direction were not the answer in this case, what was--and how could Crombie identify it?
Maybe he could use Crombie's talent to find out "Crombie," he called around the dragon's body. "Where is something that will get us out of here?"
The griffin obligingly went through his routine, to no avail.
"It's no good," Chester grumbled. "His talent's soured. Not that it ever was much good. Now if I had a talent--"
Crombie squawked, and the tone was such that it was obvious that the centaur had been treated to a rich discourse on prospective orifices available for shoving such a talent. Chester's ears reddened.
"That's what you're along to find out," Bink reminded him. "Right now, Crombie's all we have. I think there's a key, if I can only find it in time." He paused to skewer another nickelpede. The things died slowly, but they didn't attack after skewering. They couldn't; their companions gobbled them up immediately. Soon it would not be possible to concentrate on anything but nickelpedes! "Crombie, where is something that will show us how to get out of here?"
"You just asked that," Chester grumbled.
"No, I modified the language slightly. Showing is not the same as--" He stopped to watch the griffin. For a moment it seemed Crombie's talent was working, but then his wing wavered back and forth and gave up.
"Still, we must be getting warm," Bink said with false hope. "Crombie, where is there something that will stop the nickelpedes?"
Crombie's wing pointed straight up.
"Sure," Chester said, disgusted. "The sun. But it's going behind a cloud."
"At least it proves his talent is working."
They came to another fork. "Crombie, which fork will bring us fastest to something that will help us?" Bink asked.
The wing pointed firmly to the right "Hey, it actually worked!" Chester exclaimed mockingly. "Unless he's faking it."
Crombie let out another vile-sounding squawk, almost enough in itself to scorch a few nickelpedes.
But now the cloud covered the sun, sinking the entire cleft in awful shadow. The nickelpedes moved in with a multiple clicking of satisfaction and anticipation and garden-variety greed. "Dragon, take the right fork!" Bink cried. "Blast it out ahead of you, and run. Use up your last reserves of fire if you have to. We're on to something good." He hoped.
The dragon responded by shooting out a searing bolt of flame that illuminated the passage far ahead. Again the nickelpedes squeaked as they died. The dragon galloped over their smoking corpses, carrying Bink and Chester and Crombie along. But it was tiring.
Something sparkled in the dim passage ahead. Bink inhaled hope--but quickly realized it was only a will-o'-the-wisp. No help there!
No help? Suddenly Bink remembered something. "That's it!" he cried. "Dragon, follow that wisp!"
The dragon obeyed, despite Chester's incredulous neigh. It snorted no more flame, for its furnace was almost exhausted, but it could still run at a respectable pace. The wisp dodged about, as wisps had always done, always just at the verge of perception. Wisps were born teases. The dragon lumbered through fork after fork, quite lost--and suddenly emerged into a dry riverbed.
"We're out!" Bink cried, hardly believing it himself. But not yet safe; the nickelpedes were boiling out of the chasm.
Bink and Chester scrambled away from the dragon and up and out of the gully, and found themselves in the ashes of an old burn. Crombie spread his wings and launched into the sky with a squawk of pure relief. The nickelpedes did not follow even the dragon; they could not scuttle well through ashes, and might get caught by returning sunlight The party was safe.
The dragon collapsed, panting, in a cloud of ashes. Bink walked around to its snout "Dragon, we had a good fight, and you were winning. We fled, and you pursued, and we all got caught in the cleft. We made a truce to escape, and you honored it well and so did we. By working together we saved all our lives. Now I would rather have you as a friend than an enemy. Will you accept friendship with the three of us before we part?"
The dragon looked at him. Finally, slowly, it inclined its nose slightly forward in an affirmative nod.
"Until we meet again--good hunting," Bink said. "Here, we can help you a little. Crombie, where is the nearest good dragon-prey--something even a tired dragon can nab?"
Crombie spun in the air and flung out a wing as he fell. It pointed north--and now they heard the thrashing of something large, probably caught in a noose-loop bush. Something fat and foolish, who would die a slow death in the loops if not dispatched more mercifully by the scorch of a dragon.
"Good hunting," Bink repeated, patting the dragon on its lukewarm copper nose and turning away. The dragon started north.
"What was the point in that?" Chester asked in a low tone. "We have no need of a dragon's friendship."
"I wanted it amicable, here," Bink said. "This is a very special place, where peace should exist among all creatures of Xanth."
"Are you crazy? This is a burnout!"
"I'll show you," Bink said. "We'll follow that wisp."
The will-o'-the wisp was still present, hovering not quite close enough to overtake. "Look, Bink," Chester protested. "We lucked out on that wisp--but we dare not follow it any farther. It'll lead us into destruction."
"Not this one," Bink said, following it After a moment Chester shrugged, gave a what-can-you-do? kick with his hind hooves, and followed. Crombie glided down to join them.
Soon the wisp stopped at a glowstone marking a grave. As they approached, the stone lit up with the words HERMAN THE HERMIT.
"Uncle Herman!" Chester exclaimed. "You mean this is the place he--?"
"The place he saved Xanth from the wiggles," Bink said. "By summoning many creatures with his wisps, then setting a salamander-fire to burn the wiggles out. He gave his noble life in that effort, and died a hero. I knew the wisp would lead us here, once I recognized the burnout, because you are his kind and kin and the wisps honor his memory. Crombie's talent located the wisp, and the wisp--"
"Uncle Herman, hero," Chester said, his face twisting into an unfamiliar expression. The belligerent centaur was unused to the gentle emotions of reverence and respect. Almost, it seemed there was a forlorn melody played by a flute, enhancing the mood.
Bink and Crombie withdrew, leaving Chester to his contemplation in privacy. Bink tripped over a pile of dirt that hadn't been there a moment ago and almost fell headlong; that was the only sour note.
Chapter 4
Magician's Castle
Magician Humfrey's castle was the same as ever. It stood tall and slender, with stout outer ramparts and a high inner tower topped by embrasures and parapets and similar accouterments normal to castles. It was smaller than Bink remembered, but he knew it had not changed. Perhaps the problem was that his memory of the interior made it larger than his memory of the exterior. With magic, it was possible that the inside really was larger than the outside.
The magic access routes had been changed, however, and the hippocampus or water-horse was gone from the moat, its time of service expired. There was surely another creature standing guard inside, in lieu of the manticora Bink had known: the one at the Anniversary party. Even monsters had to give a year of their lives as fee for the Good Magician's Answers, and they normally performed as guardians of the castle. Humfrey did not appreciate casual intrusions.
As they came to the moat, the nature of the new guardian became apparent Monster? Monsters! The water teemed with serpentine loops, some white, some black, sliding past each other interminably.
"But where are the heads, the tails?" Chester inquired, perplexed. "All I see are coils."
The three of them stood by the moat, pondering. What could a whole fleet of sea serpents have wanted to ask the Good Magician, needing his
Answer so badly that all were willing to pay the fee? How had they gotten here? It seemed it was not for Bink and his friends to know.
Fortunately, this was not a hazard he had to brave.
Bink was on the King's business, and would be admitted to the castle as soon as he made his presence known. "Magician Humfrey!" he called.
There was no response from the castle. Doubtless the Good Magician was buried in a good book of magic, oblivious to outside proceedings. "Magician, it is Bink, on a mission for the King!" he called again.
Still no response. "The old gnome must be hard of hearing," Chester muttered. "Let me try." He cupped his hands before his mouth and bellowed: "MAGICIAN: COMPANY!"
The bellow echoed and re-echoed from the battlements, but the castle was silent "He should be at home," Bink said. "He never goes anywhere. Still, we can check. Crombie, where is the Good Magician?"
The griffin went through his act and pointed--directly toward the castle. "Must be beyond it," Chester said. "If your talent's not on the blink again."
Crombie squawked, his fine hackle-feathers rising again. He stood on his hind feet and made boxing motions with his front feet, challenging the centaur to fight Chester seemed quite ready to oblige.
"No, no!" Bink cried, diving between them. "We don't want to make a bad impression!"
"Hell, I wanted to make a good impression--on his feathery face," Chester grumbled.
Bink knew he had to separate the two combative creatures. "Go around to the other side of the castle and get another fix on the Magician," he told Crombie.
"Triangulate," Chester said.
Triangulate? Bink, accustomed to his friend's surly manner, had forgotten how educated centaurs were. Triangulation was a magical means of locating something without going there directly. Chester had a good mind and a lot of background information, when he cared to let it show.
The griffin decided that the word was not, after all, a scatological insult, and flew to one side of the castle and pointed again. Toward the castle. No question about it: the Magician was home.
"Better fly in and notify him we're here," Bink said. "We don't want to mess with those moat-monsters."
Crombie took off again. There was a small landing area between the moat and the castle, but no opening in the wall, so the griffin mounted to the high turrets. But there seemed to be no entry there for a creature of that size, so after circling the tower twice the griffin flew back.
"I remember now," Bink said. "The windows are barred. A small bird can get through, but not a griffin. We'll just have to brave the moat after all."
"We're here on the King's business!" Chester exclaimed angrily. His unhandsome face was excellent for scowling. "We don't have to run the gauntlet!"
Bink was piqued himself. But he knew he could make it through, because of his talent. "It is my responsibility. I'll see if I can navigate the castle obstacles and get his attention, then he'll let you in."
"We won't let you brave that moat alone!" Chester protested, and Crombie squawked agreement. These two might have their rivalry, but they knew their ultimate loyalty.
This was awkward. They had no magical protection. "I'd really rather do it alone," Bink said. "I am smaller than you, and more likely to slip through. If I fall in the moat, you can lasso me and haul me out, quickly. But I could never haul you out, if--"
"Got a point," Chester admitted grudgingly. "Crombie can fly across the water, but we already know he can't get in. Too bad he's not strong enough to fly with you,"
Crombie started to bridle again, but Bink cut in quickly. "He could carry your rope to me, in an emergency. I really think it is best this way. You can help me most by figuring out what type of monsters are in that moat. Is there anything in the centaur's lexicon about headless serpents?"
"Some--but the coils don't match the pattern. They look more like pieces of a--" Chester broke off, staring. "It is! It's an ouroboros!"
"An ouroboros?" Bink repeated blankly. "What's that--a fleet of sea monsters?"
"It is all one monster, a water dragon, clutching its own tail between its teeth. Half of it white, half black. The symbolism is--"
"But there are a score or more segments, all over the moat! Some are in toward the castle, and some out near the edge. Look--there's three lined up parallel. They can't be pieces of the same monster!"
"Yes they can," Chester said wisely. "The ouroboros loops entirely around the castle--"
"But that would account for only a single-file line of--"
"Loops several times, and its head plunges below its own coils to catch the tail, A little like a mobius strip. So--"
"A what?"
"Never mind. That's specialized magic. Take my word: that thing in the moat is all one monster--and it can't bite because it won't let go of its tail. So if you're good at balancing, you can walk along it to the castle."
"But no segment shows above the water more than five feet! I'd fall in, if I tried to jump from segment to segment!"
"Don't jump," Chester said with unusual patience, for him. "Walk. Even coiled several times around the loop, the thing is too long for the moat, so it has to make vertical convolutions. These can never straighten out; as soon as one subsides, another must rise, and this happens in a progressive undulation. That's how the ouroboros moves, in this restricted locale. So you need never get wet; just follow one stage of the thing to the end."
"This makes no sense to me!" Bink said. "You're speaking in Centaurese. Can't you simplify?"
"Just jump aboard the nearest loop and stay there," Chester advised. "You'll understand it once you do it."
"You have more confidence in me than I do," Bink said dubiously. "I hope you know what I'm doing."
"I trusted you to get us out of the nickelpede crevice Crombie got us into," Chester said. "Now you trust me to get you across that moat. It isn't as if you've never ridden a monster before."
"Squawk!" Crombie cried, pointing a wing at the centaur. Bink smiled; he had been riding the centaur. Score one for the soldier.
"Just don't fall off," Chester continued evenly. "You'd get crushed by the coils."
"Um," Bink agreed, sobering. Even with his talent backing him up, he didn't like this. Walking the back of a moving sea monster? Why not walk the wings of a flying roc, while he was at it!
He cast his gaze about, as he tended to do when he sought some escape from what he knew he could not escape--and spotted another mound of earth. Angrily he marched a few paces and stepped on it, pressing it down.
But when a convenient loop offered, Bink jumped across to it, windmilling his arms in the fashion of a mill-tree to regain his balance. The segment of monster sank somewhat beneath his weight, then stabilized pneumatically. Though glistening with moisture, the white skin was not slippery. Good; maybe this walk was possible after all!
The flesh rippled. The section in front of him subsided into the water. "Turn about!" Chester called from the bank. "Stay with it!"
Bink turned, windmilling again. There, behind/before him, the loop was extending. He stepped along it, hurrying as the water lapped at his heels. This was like a magic highway, opening out ahead of him, closing behind him. Maybe that was the basic principle of such one-way paths; they were really the backs of monsters! Yet though the serpent seemed to be moving toward Bink's rear, the loop stayed in place, or drifted slightly forward. So he was walking fairly swiftly, to make rather slow progress. "I'll never get across this way," he complained. "I'm not even walking toward the castle."
"You'll get there," Chester called. "Keep your feet going."
Bink kept walking, and the centaur and griffin moved slowly around the moat to keep pace. Suddenly a loop developed between him and his friends. "Hey, I've crossed to an inner loop--and I never left this one!" Bink exclaimed.
"You are spiraling inward," Chester explained. "There is no other way to go. When you get to the inner bank, jump off."
Bink continued, rather enjoying it now that he had his sea legs and
understood the mechanism. There was no way he could avoid reaching the other shore, so long as he kept his place here. Yet what an ingenious puzzle it was; could he have solved it without Chester's help?
Abruptly the segment narrowed. He was coming to the end of the tail! Then the head of the ouroboros came in sight, its teeth firmly clamped to the tail. Suddenly nervous again, Bink had no alternative but to tread on that head. Suppose it decided to let go the tail, just this once, and take him in instead? The big dragon eyes stared briefly at him, sending a chill through his body.
Then the head was past, continuing its undulation into the water, and Bink was treading the massive neck, broad as a highway after the slender tail. Apparently this dragon, serpent, or whatever was independent of air; it could keep its head submerged indefinitely. Yet how did it eat, if it never let go of its tail? It couldn't be eating itself, could it? Maybe that had been its Question for the Magician: how could it let go of its tail, so it could consume the idiots who walked along its length? No, if it had the answer to that, it would have gobbled up Bink as he passed. "Jump, Bink!" Chester called. Oops--had the serpent changed its mind, let go, and come to gobble? Bink looked back, but saw nothing special. Then he looked ahead--and discovered that the body was twisting down and under the adjacent leg of the spiral. No more highway! He leaped to shore as his footing ended.
Now he was at the outer rampart of the castle. He looked for the great doorway he had encountered on his first approach to this castle, back before Trent was King--and found a waterfall.
A waterfall? How had that gotten here? He traced It upward and saw a ledge; the water issued from somewhere out of sight, to course down over the frame of the door.
Was there an aperture behind the sheet of water? Bink did not relish getting wet here, after traversing the whole moat dry, but he would have to look. He removed his clothing and set it aside, so that it would not get soaked, then nudged cautiously into the waterfall.