Trolla showed them to a large central building fashioned of mundane stone. Inside, it was one huge gravel pit, where small female elves, gnomes, and fairies dug and scraped out sand with their little picks and scoops. They loaded it into wheeled wagons drawn by female centaurs, a manticora, and a small sphinx. Bink's skin prickled when he approached the sand; strong magic was associated with it, no doubt of that! Yet this was the first time he had encountered indeterminate magic. That sand performed no magic of its own, and cast no spells; it merely was magic, waiting for direction. Bink was not quite sure he could believe that.
The sand was hauled to another structure, where three huge hephalumphs tramped it constantly into dust. The hephalumphs were animals, normally wild creatures of the wilderness, but these were evidently tame and well cared for, and seemed happy. Then a captive roc-bird blew the dust into the air, employing great sweeps of her monstrous wings. So powerful was this forced draft that small tornadoes formed in the turbulence.
"The Technicolor hailstorms!" Bink exclaimed. "Fallout from this operation!"
"Exactly," Trolla agreed. "We try to feed the dust high into the sky so that it will ride the upper currents all over Xanth before it falls, but localized storms bring it down prematurely. The region immediately downwind of us is untenable for intelligent life; the concentration of airborne dust disrupts the local ecology and leads to madness. Thus there are risks associated with our operation-but we must continue. We should be pleased if you males would remain here, encouraging our females-but we know you must flee before the siren calls. Unfortunately our access route is one-way; we have been too busy recently to construct a departure ramp. You can escape only through the Region of Madness. Yet this is preferable to the siren. We shall help you all we can, but-"
"Not until we render our service," Bink said. "We have assorted talents, and should be able to handle this." But privately he was uneasy; he found it hard to believe that they should prevail where all other men had failed. And he wondered again why the source of the magic of Xanth had remained unknown all these centuries, if the people of this village had known about it all along. Maybe the fact that no one ever seemed to leave this village and live-or maybe the magic dust fogged up other magic, so that things like magic mirrors could not focus on this area. There were probably a lot of secrets in the Land of Xanth that remained to be discovered
"We shall have a gathering this evening," Trolla said. "Some of our younger girls have never seen a male, and deserve this chance. You will meet everyone, and we shall plan how we can best help you to escape the siren. So far, no way has been found to block off her sound from the males, though we females can not hear it. We can, with your permission, confine you in cages so that you can not respond to-"
"No!" Bink and Chester said together, and Crombie squawked.
"You are true males, always ready for a challenge," Trolla said with sad approval. "In any event, we would have to let you out sometime, and then the siren would get you, so cages are no solution. We need to be rid of the siren!" Her face, for a moment, assumed the aspect of savage hate that was normal to trolls. But then she softened. "I will show you to your lodging, and call for you again, at dusk. Please be courteous to our villagers; your presence here is a considerable event, and the girls are untrained in social decorum."
When they were alone, Bink addressed the Magician. "Something is funny here. Will you use your magic to fathom the true situation?"
"Do I have to do everything?" Humfrey grumped.
"Listen, you dwarfish gnome!" Chester snapped. "We've been working our tails off, while you just loaf along."
Humfrey was unruffled. "Anytime you wish to have your payment for your efforts-"
Bink decided he had better intercede, though he had considerable sympathy for the centaur's position. He had not realized there would be so many problems in leadership! "We seem to be at our objective, the source of magic. But it has been too easy, and the villagers are too accommodating. Only you can tell us whether we have in fact completed our quest, or whether we have walked into a man-consuming trap. Surely this is the occasion to employ your magic, if you would be so generous."
Oh, all right," Humfrey said ungraciously. "You don't deserve it after the way you loosed Beauregard, but I'll still take a look."
The Magician drew out a mirror. "Mirror, mirror in my hand, are you the finest in the land?"
The mirror clouded, turning deep red. "Oh, stop blushing!" Humfrey snapped. "I was only testing."
Bink remembered a mirror like this. It answered only in pictures, and somewhat circuitously; a too-direct question about a too-delicate matter could crack it up.
"Are you aware of the source of the magic of Xanth?" the Magician asked.
A picture of a baby appeared, smiling. That evidently meant "Yes."
"Can you tell me the location of that source?" Aside to the others he murmured: "This is the crucial point. At home, the mirror never could reveal this information, but here with stronger magic-"
The baby smiled again. Humfrey echoed that smile, anticipating victory. "Will you tell me that location?"
Again the cherubic smile. Bink felt his pulse pounding. He realized the Magician was approaching the subject with extreme caution. The mirror took each question literally, and did not volunteer anything; this circuitous approach insured that the mirror would not be overwhelmed by too abrupt a challenge. "Please show that location on your screen." The mirror went dark.
"Oops," Bink murmured. "Is it broken?"
The mirror brightened. A crying baby appeared. "It tells you no," Humfrey snapped. "Kindly allow me to continue my investigation." He returned to the mirror. "Are you showing me a scene of underground?"
The baby smiled.
"In short, you verify that the source of magic is not in this village we are presently sitting in?" A big question mark appeared. "You are saying the source of magic is in this village?" the Good Magician asked sharply.
The question mark returned. "Hm, a problem of resolution here," Humfrey muttered. "The mirror can't choose between truths. Anybody have another approach?"
"It's a matter of perspective," Chester said. "If the magic dust is the source, there may be more than one cache of it. More likely, a channel of it, welling up from the depths. Thus the source has a multiple definition, depending on whether you are thinking of the source on the surface, or the source of the source."
"Now there is a creature with a disciplined mind," Humfrey said approvingly. "If only he would discipline it more often instead of quarreling with the soldier." He faced the mirror. "Is the centaur's analysis correct?"
The baby smiled.
"Now," the Magician continued. "Are you aware of the motivation of these villagers?" When he received the smile, he asked: "Do they mean well by us?" The smile confirmed it. Bink felt relief. "And Trolla spoke the truth about the curse of the siren?" Another smile.
Humfrey looked up. "Now it gets difficult," he said, seeming pleased. Bink realized that this man, too, enjoyed a challenge. The magic ability the Good Magician had held in reserve was now being used, and it was good magic. "So far we have merely been confirming what we already knew. Now we must venture into the unknown." He returned to the mirror. "Are you able to tell us how to deal with the villagers' problem?"