"Indubitably."
"And you know it already? What it is?"
"I do."
"Then-" But the centaur paused. "I might figure it out for myself, if it was so easy for you to do. Why should I pay you for it?"
"Why, indeed," the Magician agreed.
"But if I don't figure it out, and if Bink gets in trouble because he meets a dragon when I'm not there-"
"I would love to let you stew indefinitely in your dilemma," Humfrey said. "But I am in a hurry and Bink needs a ride, so I'll cut it short. Undertake the service I require, in advance of my Answer. If you fail to solve your talent yourself, I will tell you at the termination of the quest-or any prior time you so request If you do solve it yourself, I will provide a second Answer to whatever other question you may ask. Thus you will in effect have two Answers for the price of one."
Chester considered momentarily. "Done," he agreed. "I like adventure anyway."
The Magician turned to Crombie. "Now you are directly in the King's service, so are committed for the duration. He has given you a fine form, but it lacks intelligible speech. I believe it would be better for you to be more communicative. Accordingly, meet another of my fee-servitors: Grundy the Golem." A miniature man-figure appeared, his whole height hardly the span of an ordinary man's hand. He seemed to have been formed from bits of string and clay and wood and other refuse, but he was animate.
The griffin looked at the golem with a certain surprised contempt. One bite of that eagle's beak could sever all four appendages from the figure. "Squawk!" Crombie remarked.
"Same to you, birdbeak," the golem said without special emphasis, as if he didn't really care.
"Grundy's talent is translation," the Magician explained. "I shall assign him to render the soldier's griffin-speech into human speech, so we can better understand him. He already understands us, as so many animals do, so no reverse translation is required. The golem is small enough for any of us to carry without strain, so his transportation will be no problem. Bink will ride the centaur, and I will ride the griffin. That way we shall make expeditious progress." And so, efficiently, it was arranged. The quest for the source of the magic of Xanth had begun.
Chapter 5
Golem Heights
They stood outside the castle, across the moat, watching while the Magician mothballed his residence. The ouroboros and other creatures under fee had been granted leaves of absence and were already gone. Humfrey fumbled in his clothing, showing a large heavy belt containing many pockets, and drew from this belt a closed vial or narrow bottle. He applied his thumbs to its cork until it popped free.
Smoke swirled out, looming high into the sky. Then it coalesced into the largest moth Bink had ever imagined, with a wingspan that cast the entire castle into shadow. The creature flew up over the castle and dropped a ball. As the ball fell near the highest turret it exploded. Gray-white streamers shot out in a huge sphere, drifting down to touch every part of the castle. Then they drew in tight, and suddenly the whole edifice was sheathed in a silky net, and looked like a giant tent. A cold, bitter odor emanated from it, smelling vaguely disinfectant.
"There," Humfrey said with grudging satisfaction. 'That'll keep a hundred years, if it has to."
"A hundred years!" Chester exclaimed. "Is that how long you figure this mission will take?"
"Come on, come on, we're wasting time," the Good Magician grumped.
Bink, astride the centaur, looked across at the griffin. "What he means, Crombie, is that we need to know the direction of the source of magic. The mission should be accomplished in a few days, with your help."
The griffin squawked irately. "Well, why didn't the old fool say so?" the golem translated promptly. He shared the griffin's back with the Magician, as the two together massed barely half what Bink did.
"Well spoken, soldier," Chester muttered low.
Crombie whirled, almost throwing off his riders. "That way," Grundy said, pointing-around in a continuing circle, his tiny arm settling nowhere.
"Oh, no," Chester muttered. "His talent's on the blink again."
"It is not malfunctioning," Humfrey snapped. "You asked the wrong question."
Bink's brow furrowed. "We had some trouble that way before. What is the right question?"
"It's your job to pursue this quest," Humfrey said. "I must conserve my information for emergencies." And he settled down comfortably amid the feathers of the griffin's back and closed his eyes.
The Good Magician remained his taciturn self. He was out of the habit of helping anyone without his fee, even when he himself might benefit from such help. Now Bink was on the spot again; he had to figure out how to make Crombie's talent work-while the Magician snoozed.
Before, in the nickelpede cleft, Crombie had fouled up because there had been no single direction for escape. Was that the case now-no single source for magic? If so, that would be very hard to locate. But the cynosure of this group was on him; he had to perform, and in a hurry. It was evident that the Good Magician had done him no particular favor by leaving the leadership of the quest to Bink. "Where is the most direct route to the source of magic?"
This time the griffin's wing pointed down at an angle.
So that was why there was no horizontal direction; the source was not across, but down. Yet that was not much help. They couldn't dig down very far, very fast. They would have to get a person whose talent was magic-tunneling, and that would mean delay and awkwardness. This group was already larger than Bink had anticipated. Better to find a natural route.
"Where is there an access to this source, from the surface?" Bink asked.
The wing began to vibrate back and forth. "The nearest one!" Bink amended hastily. The wing stabilized, pointing roughly south.
"The heart of the unexplored wilderness," Chester said. "I should have known. Maybe I should take my Answer now and quit."
Crombie squawked. "Birdbeak says if you take your stupid Answer now, you can't quit, horserear."
Chester swelled up angrily. "Birdbeak said that? You tell him for me he has bird droppings for brains, and-"
"Easy," Bink cautioned the centaur. "Crombie needs no translation for your words."
"Actually he called you an ass," Grundy said helpfully. "I assume he meant your rear end, which is about as asinine as-"
The griffin squawked again. "Oops, my error," the golem said. "He referred to your front end."
"Listen, birdbrain!" Chester shouted. "I don't need your ignorant opinion! Why don't you take it and stuff it-"
But Crombie was squawking at the sametime. The two faced off aggressively. The centaur was bigger and more muscular than the griffin, but the griffin was probably the more deadly fighter, for he had the mind of a trained human soldier in the body of a natural combat creature.
"Squawk!" Bink screamed. "I mean, stop! The golem is just making trouble. Obviously the word Crombie used was 'centaur.' Isn't that so, Crombie?"
Crombie squawked affirmatively. "Spoilsport," Grundy muttered, speaking for himself. "Just when it was getting interesting."
"Never mind that," Bink said. "Do you admit I was correct, Golem?"
A centaur is an ass-front and rear," Grundy said sullenly. "It depends on whether you are defining it intellectually or physically."