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
G ood 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 paythe 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 blue 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
“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
G ood 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 paythe 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 blue 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
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