But at that moment his outlook changed. Abruptly the stars were mere stars, and the stairs-were the branches of a latticework tree. Above him the others were near its summit, about to step onto the thinning twigs that could not support their weight. Crombie was already supporting much of his mass by flapping his wings, and Chester-
Bink shook his head in amazement. A centaur, climbing a tree!
Then the fish buzzed out of range, and the madness returned. Bink was on the translucent stairway again, climbing toward the glowing constellations. "It's crazy, I know!" he cried. "But I can't help myself. I have to go on up!"
The golem guided his fish in close again, "You can't throw it off even when you know it's doom?"
"It's mad!" Bink agreed, suffering a measure of sanity as the wood passed near again. "But true! But don't worry about me-I'll survive. Go get Chester off that branch before he kills himself!"
"Right!" Grundy agreed. He spurred his mount and buzzed upward. Bink resumed his climb, cursing himself for his foolishness.
The fish disappeared in the night. Only the caged star-that Bink now knew was nothing more than a glowberry-showed Grundy's location. That light moved up near the centaur.
"Good grief, golem!" Chester exclaimed. "What the horsefeathers am I doing in a tree?"
Bink could not hear Grundy's side of the conversation, but could guess its nature. After a moment Chester started backing down the stairway steps.
"Hey, oaf!" the Magician cried. "Get your ass's rear out of my face!"
"Go down," the centaur cried. "This is no stair, it's a tree. We're climbing to our doom."
"It's information. Let me by!"
"It's madness! Grundy, take your wood to him."
The light descended. "Great galloping gizzards!" Humfrey cried. "It is a tree! We've got to get down!"
But now the centaur was climbing again. "I haven't finished my business with that constellation centaur," he said.
"You equine fool!" Humfrey exclaimed. "Desist!"
The fish zoomed down toward Bink. "I can't handle them both," Grundy cried. "I've only got the single piece of wood, and there are four of you."
"The griffin can fly; hell be all right for now," Bink said. "The stair-I mean the tree-is narrow. Give Chester the wood; no one can pass him. Then you search for more wood."
"I had already thought of that," the golem said. The fish zoomed off. In a moment Chester reversed his course again. The Good Magician cursed in most un-Magician like vernacular, but was forced to retreat in the face of the centaur's rear. Soon they were right above Bink-and he too cursed as his ascent was balked
The constellations, seeing the retreat, exploded in rage. The sky centaur cried silently. At his summons, the other monsters of the heavens gathered: the dragon, the hydra, the serpent, the winged horse, the giant, and in the river the whale.
The madness remained upon him, but Bink no longer wanted to climb the stairway. The monsters were converging, clustering about the top of the stair-spiral. The serpent was starting down, its sinuous body coiling along the spiral, while the winged ones flew down. Bink was not certain whether they were real or illusion or something in between-but remembering the arrow-strike at the dogwood tree, he was disinclined to gamble. "We've got to get under cover!" he cried.
But Crombie, highest on the stair and unaffected by the spell-wood, flew up to do battle with the winged horse. "Squawk!" he cried.
"Neigh!" the horse replied.
Grundy buzzed by on his steed. "Oooh, what they said!"
Wings spread, griffin and horse faced off, claws swiping, hooves striking. Contact was made, but Bink couldn't tell from the whirling, flapping silhouettes which creature was prevailing.
Then the serpent arrived. Chester could not use his bow effectively, since no arrow would travel a spiral path, so he waited with his sword. Bink wondered what the centaur saw, since he had the wood and so perceived reality-or something. Probably it was not a serpent, but an equivalent threat. Meanwhile Bink had to interpret it as he saw it.
As the huge snake-head came close, the centaur bellowed a warning and struck it across the nose. Blade met fang. The serpent's teeth were large, reflecting starlight, and they gleamed with what might be poison. There were two projecting ones, and they moved with the precision of a fencer. Chester was compelled to retreat, since he had only one sword.
Then Chester took a cue from the winged horse, and used his front hooves. He bashed the serpent on the nose, one-two, one-two, while dazzling it with the sword. His front feet did not have the power of his rear ones, but his hooves had sharp fighting edges and a cumulative impact that could splinter bark from a tree, or scales from a serpent
What would happen, Bink wondered, if the wood were to touch the serpent? Would it give the serpent a different view of reality? Would the centaur then seem to be something else? How could anyone be sure what magic was real, and what false?
The serpent hissed and gaped its jaws so widely that its mouth became as tall as the centaur. Its sinuous tongue snaked out to wrap around Chester's sword arm, immobilizing it, but Chester shifted his weapon to his other hand, and efficiently lopped off the tongue. The serpent made a hissing howl of agony and snapped its mouth closed, the tusks clanging against each other. Chester took a moment to unwrap the segment of tongue from his arm, then resumed slashing at the nose. He was holding his own.
The dragon arrived. It zoomed in at the Good Magician. Humfrey might be captive to the madness, but he was not a fool. His hand dived into his jacket and came out with a vial. But so swift was the dragon's onslaught that there was no time to open the container. Instead, Humfrey flipped it into the opening mouth. The dragon snapped at it automatically. The vial crunched under its bite. Vapor exploded, expanding into a cloud that jetted out between the dragon's teeth and coalesced about its head. But it did not form into anything else-no demon, no smoke screen, not even a sandwich. It just clung there in hardening gobs.
"What is it?" Bink cried. "Did the vial misfire?"
"I had to grab randomly," Humfrey replied. "It's-I believe it is foaming insulation."
"Slavering what?"
"Foaming insulation. It foams up, then hardens in place to keep things warm-or cold."
Bink shook his head. The Magician was mad all right
How could anything act to keep things hot or cold? It either had to be like fire, heating, or like ice, cooling. And why would anyone bother with such magic?
The dragon, however, was not taking it with equanimity. It flexed in midair, and shook its head violently from side to side, trying to rid itself of the clinging stuff. It chewed and gulped, seeking to eliminate the foam. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Humfrey told it.
The dragon ignored him. It roared. Then it huffed and puffed, working up a head of fire in its belly. It looped about, its flapping wings throwing off chunks of hardened foam. Then it oriented on the Magician and blasted out its terrible fire.
Only a thin jet of flame emerged. Then, surprisingly, the dragon's body began inflating. It swelled up like a balloon, until only the legs, tail, wing tips and snout projected from the ball.
"What-?" Bink asked, amazed.
"The insulation hardens in place immediately in the presence of heat," Humfrey explained. "Thus the dragon's own fire had solidified it. Unfortunately that particular type of insulation is also-"