It was too bad, really, Bink had to agree. She seemed like such a nice girl, burdened with such a terrible curse. Magic was not always kind! The Magician had nullified the curse, but it was disconcerting to look into that vacuum in lieu of her face.
Crombie walked around the island, studying the statues. Some were of centaurs, and some of griffins. "Squawk!"
"Look at the damage the bitch has done! She must have petrified hundreds of innocent males. What good is it to nullify her now? It is like closing the house door after the man has escaped." He was evidently thinking more like a griffin, now. That was a danger of prolonged transformation.
"Yes, we shall have to do something about the statues," Humfrey agreed. "But I have expended enough of my valuable magic. Too much, in fact Crombie, point out where the solution to this problem lies."
The griffin whirled and pointed. Down.
"Hm. Now point out the source of magic, again."
Crombie did. The result was the same. "So I supposed," Humfrey said. "Our quest has more than informational significance."
Another factor fell into place for Bink. This whole escapade with the tangle tree and the devastating sisters had seemed like a diversion from the quest and a serious threat to Bink's welfare, yet his talent had permitted it. Now he saw that his experience related to the quest. Still, it should not have been necessary to expose himself to these dangers in order to reach the source of magic. Something other than his talent must be operating.
He remembered the mound of earth, last night. Did that relate? He really could not fathom how, yet he distrusted coincidental occurrences unless they derived from his talent If an enemy were-The Good Magician brought out his mirror again. "Get me the Queen," he said into it.
"The Queen?" Bink asked, surprised.
The mirror fogged, then showed the face of Queen Iris. "About time you called in, Humfrey," she said. "How come you're dawdling there on the gorgon's isle, instead of pursuing your fool quest?"
Crombie squawked angrily. "Don't translate that!" Humfrey snapped at the golem. Then, to the Sorceress: "It is Bink's quest, not mine. We have nullified siren and gorgon, and are proceeding toward the source of magic. Notify the King."
Iris made a minor gesture of unconcern. "When I get around to it, midget" she said.
The visage of King Trent appeared in the mirror behind her. Abruptly she assumed the aspect of a Sweet Young Thing, complete with long braids. "Which will be very soon, Good Magician," she amended hastily. Trent waved jovially and tugged on a braid as the mirror went blank.
"How can she talk on the mirror?" Bink inquired. "It shows silent pictures for everyone else."
"She is mistress of illusion," Humfrey explained.
"Mistress of the King, you mean," Crombie squawked.
"We only think we're hearing her," Humfrey continued. He put away the mirror. "And the King only thinks he can yank at an illusory braid. But illusion has its uses, in whatever capacity."
"I'd like the illusion of reality," the golem said wistfully.
Humfrey returned his attention to the gorgon. "We shall return in due course. I suggest you go comfort your sister, meanwhile. She has lost her dulcimer."
"I will, I will!" the gorgon cried. "Farewell, handsome Sorcerer!" She flung her arms around Humfrey and planted an invisible kiss on his mouth while the snakes snapped at his ears and hissed up a storm. "Hurry back! I have so much love stored up-"
"Um. Just so," the Magician agreed, embarrassed. He brought up a finger to snap away one serpent-hair that was gnawing too vigorously on his earlobe.
The magic path ended at the gorgon's isle, so it was necessary to swim back. They used Crombie's talent to locate a safe route across, avoiding lake monsters; then Bink mounted Chester and Humfrey rode the griffin. It was now midmorning, and the return to the magic-dust village was easy and swift. Hostile magic had not yet had time to move in to replace the prior charm of the path.
The tangle tree was a charred stump. The villagers had really done the job, destroying a long-term enemy. But the village itself was now quiet, with black drapes in the windows; it was in mourning for the last party of males to be lost to the siren.
How suddenly that changed, as those males marched in! "You survived!" Trolla cried, tears of untrollish joy streaming down her horrible face. "We tried to follow you, but could not hear the siren and could not trace the path in the dark. In the morning we knew it was too late, and we had wounded to attend to-"
"We have nullified the siren-and her sister, the gorgon," Bink said. "No more men will go that way. But the men who went before-"
"They are all dead; we know."
"No. They are stone. There may be a way to reverse the spell and restore them. If we are successful in our quest-"
"Come, we must celebrate!" Trolla cried. "We shall give you such a party-"
Bink knew the answer to that. "Uh, no thanks. You are very kind, but all we want to do now is get on with our quest. We seek the ultimate source of magic-the source of your magic dust, underground."
"There is no way down there," Trolla said. "It wells up in a solid shaft-"
"Yes. So we will seek elsewhere. If any avenue of access exists, from another direction-"
Disappointed, Trolla accepted the situation with grace. "Which way do you go?"
"That way," Bink said, indicating the direction Crombie had pointed for the resumption of their quest.
"But that's into the heart of the Region of Madness!"
Bink smiled. "Perhaps our access is through madness, then."
"The route past the tangle tree is open now. You could go out that way, and loop about to avoid the madness-"
Bink shook his head in negation, knowing that had that been the best way, Crombie would have indicated it.
"You males are so unreasonable! At least wait a few days. We will stop lofting the magic dust into the air, and the effect will diminish. Then you may traverse the region less hazardously."
"No. We have decided to push on." Bink feared that a few days' relaxation in this village of eager females would be as ruinous as continued dalliance with the siren and gorgon. They had to move on.
"Then we shall provide a guide. She can warn you of the immediate traps, and it is barely possible you will survive until clear of the worst of it. You are already half mad, after all."
"Yes," Bink agreed with a wry smile. "We are males." Neither sex understood the other; that was yet another aspect of the magic of Xanth. He rather liked this tame female troll; apparently almost any monster could be worthwhile once it was possible to know it personally.
The guide turned out to be a very pretty female griffin. "Squawk!" Crombie protested. "Awk! Awk!" she replied archly. "Don't saddle us with a chick like that!" Grundy translated happily. "Who are you calling a chick? I'm a lioness!"
"You're a nuisance!"
"And you're a bore!"
"Female!"
"Male!"
"Uh, that's enough translation, Grundy," Bink said. "They're down to ultimate insults." He turned to Trolla. 'Thank you for the guide. We'll be on our way now."
All the females of the village lined up to wave goodbye. It was a sad but necessary parting.
The wilderness of Xanth soon abolished sentimentality. The trees were extremely large here, closing in to form a dense jungle. This was the downwind region of the magic dust, as Trolla had warned; magic flourished here. Monstrous pincushions grew at the lowest level, stabbing anyone who passed too near, living stalagmites projected between the cushions, their stony points glistening with moisture that fell on them from above. Oil slicks twined wherever suitable depressions were available. The oil was more slippery than anything else, and at the same time more tenacious. "Those tanker trees shouldn't flush their wastes on the surface," Chester muttered. "They should bury it, the way civilized creatures do."