Then Bink remembered: Grundy had freed Humfrey and Crombie-in the name of the enemy. The golem was also a creature of the brain coral. Why was he siding with Bink, now?
Two possibilities: first, the coral might have only borrowed the golem, then released him, so that Grundy had reverted to Bink's camp. Yet in that case, the coral could take over the golem again at any time, and Grundy was not to be trusted. In the heat of battle the coral might have forgotten Grundy, but as that battle simplified, that would change. Second, Grundy might remain an agent of the enemy right now. In that case-
But why should the coral try to fool Bink this way? Why not just finish him off without respite? Bink didn't know, but it occurred to him it might be his smartest course to play along, to pretend to be fooled. The enemy might have some weakness Bink hadn't fathomed, and if he could figure it out, using the golem as a clue-
The soldier had not given up. Unable to turn in the air because of his disabled guidance system, Crombie oriented himself on land, got up speed, and took off across the lake again.
"Don't touch me-I'm steeped in poison!" Grundy cried. "I'll spot the eye for you, Bink. You concentrate on-"
Glad for the little ally despite his doubts, Bink did. As the griffin sailed at him, Bink leaped up, making a two-handed strike directly overhead with his sword. Crombie, unable to swerve, took the slash on his good wing. The blade cut through the feathers and muscle and tendon and bone, half-severing the wing.
Crombie fell to the ground-but he was not defeated. He squawked and bounced to his feet, whirling and leaping at Bink, front claw extended. Surprised at the soldier's sheer tenacity, Bink fell away, tripped over an irregularity in the rock, and landed on his back. As the griffin landed on him, beak plunging for his face, Bink shoved his sword violently upward.
This time it was no wing he scored on, but the neck. Blood spurted out, soaking him, burning hot. This had to be a mortal wound-yet still the griffin fought, slashing with three feet, going for Bink's gut.
Bink rolled from under, dragging his sword with him. But it snagged on a bone and was wrenched out of his hand. Instead he threw himself on Crombie's neck from behind, wrapping both arms about the spilling neck, choking it, trying to break it. Until this moment Bink could not have imagined himself killing his friend-but the vision of Chester's demise was burning in his mind, and he had become an almost mindless killer.
Crombie gave a tremendous heave and threw him off. Bink dived in again, grabbing for the legs as Chester had, catching a hind one. Such a tactic could never have worked on the soldier in his human form, for Crombie was an expert hand-to-hand fighter; but he was in animal form, unable to use much of his highly specialized human expertise. To prevent the griffin from reorienting, Bink hauled hard on that leg, putting his head down and dragging the form across the rock.
"Don't look!" Grundy cried. "The eye is ahead of you!"
Could he trust the golem? Surely not-yet it would be foolish to risk looking where the eye might be. Bink closed his eyes, took a new grasp, and with his greatest exertion yet, heaved the griffin over his head and forward. Crombie flew through the air-and didn't land. He was flying again, or trying to! Bink had only helped launch him; no wonder the griffin had not resisted that effort!
"The eye is circling, coming in toward your face!" Grundy cried.
To believe, or not to believe? The first demonstrably false statement the golem made would betray his affiliation. So probably Grundy would stick to the truth as long as he could. Bink could trust him because he was an enemy agent, ironic as that seemed. He kept his eyes closed and shook out his robe. "Where?"
"Arm's length in front of you!" Bink spread the gown, held it in both hands, and leaped. He carried the material across and down. "You got it!" the golem cried. "Wrap it up, throw it in the lake!" And Bink did. He felt the tugging within the gown, and felt the slight mass of the captive eye; the golem had spoken truly. He heard the splash, and cautiously opened one eye. The gown was floating, but it was soaked through; anything caught in it would be finished.
Now he could look about. Crombie had flown only a short distance, and had fallen into a small crevasse; he was now wedged in its base, prevented by his wounds and weakness from rising. But the Magician had remained active. "One step, and I loose the sleeping potion!" he cried.
Bink had had enough. "If you loose it, you will be the first affected!" he said, striding toward Humfrey. "I can hold my breath as long as you can!" His sword was on the floor, where it had dropped from the griffin's wounds. Bink paused to pick it up, wiping some of the blood off against his own clothing, and held it ready. "In any event I doubt it takes effect before I reach you. And if it does, the golem will not be affected. What side will he be on then? He's part real, you know; the coral can never be certain of its control."
The Magician jerked the cork out, refusing to be bluffed. The vapor issued. Bink leaped forward, swinging his sword as the substance coalesced-and struck a small bottle.
A bottle materializing from a bottle? "Oh, no!" Humfrey cried. "That was my supply of smart-pills, lost for this past decade!"
What irony! The Magician had absentmindedly filed his smart-pills inside another bottle, and without them had been unable to figure out where he had put them. Now, by a permutation of the war of talents, they had shown up-at the wrong time.
Bink touched the Magician's chest with the point of his sword. "You don't need any smart-pill to know what will happen if you do not yield to me now."
Humfrey sighed. "It seems I underestimated you, Bink. I never supposed you could beat the griffin."
Bink hoped never to have to try it again! If Crombie hadn't already been tired and wounded-but no sense worrying about what might have been. "You serve an enemy master. I can not trust you. Yield, and I will require one service of you, then force you back into the bottle until my quest is complete. Otherwise I must slay you, so as to render your brain coral helpless." Was this a bluff? He did not want to kill the Magician, but if the battle renewed "Choose!"
Humfrey paused, evidently in communion with some other mind. "Goblins can't come; too bright, and besides, they hate the coral. No other resources in range. Can't counter your check." He paused again. Bink realized the term "check" related to the Mundane game King Trent sometimes played, called chess; a check was a direct personal threat. An apt term.
"The coral is without honor," Humfrey continued. "But I am not. I thought my prior offer to you was valid; I did not know the griffin would attack you then."
"I would like to believe you," Bink said, his anger abating but not his caution. "I dare not. I can only give you my word about my intent."
"Your word is better than mine, in this circumstance. I accept your terms."
Bink lowered the sword, but did not put it away. "And what of the golem?" he demanded. "Whose side is he on?"
"He-is one of us, as you surmised. You tricked me into acknowledging that by my reaction a moment ago. You are very clever in the clutch, Bink."
"Forget the flattery! Why was Grundy helping me?"
"The coral told me to," the golem answered.
"It doesn't make sense for the coral to fight itself! If you'd fought on Crombie's side, he might have beaten me!"
"And he might still have lost," Humfrey said. "The coral, too, had seriously underestimated you, Bink. It thought that once it canceled out your talent-which remains horribly strong and devious, forcing constant attention-you could readily be overcome by physical means. Instead you fought with increasing savagery and skill as the pressure mounted. What had seemed a near-certainty became dubious. Thus the chance of the coral prevailing by force diminished, while the chance of prevailing by reason increased."