Bink had to nod yes again. What a damning statement.
Humfrey shook his head. 'It's easy to be sorry after a mistake has been made. Yet when I knew him, before his exile, he was not a man without compassion. Still, I doubt he can ever rest until he achieves his ambition-and while he remains alive and in Xanth, we can never be certain he won't. It is a difficult case. There will have to be a meticulous investigation of the facts.'
Such an investigation would be the death of Trent. The old King would be determined to abolish this major threat to his declining power.
'And Trent knows what is likely to happen to him when the authorities get there, if they catch him?' Trent surely did. Bink nodded yes again. 'And you-do you want him dead?' Bink shook his head vehemently, no. 'Or exiled again?'
Bink had to think a moment. Then he shook his head again.
'Of course; you need him to transform you back into human form. That perhaps gives him some bargaining leverage. They might spare his life in exchange for such services. But after that, it seems likely to be exile for him-or blindness.'
Blindness! But then Bink comprehended the horrible logic of it. Blind, Trent could not transform anyone; he had to see his subjects. But what a terrible fate.
'I see you don't like that notion either. Yet there are harsh realities to weigh.' Humfrey pondered. 'It will be difficult enough to save your life, since you also are an illegal immigrant. But perhaps I have a wrinkle.' He frowned. 'I'm really sorry to see Trent get into this scrape; he's a truly great Magician, and we've always gotten along, not interfering in each other's business. But the welfare of Xanth comes first.' He smiled briefly. 'After my fee, of course.'
Bink didn't see much humor in it.
'Well, it will soon be out of our hands, fortunately. What will be will be.'
After that he was silent. Bink watched the clouds, real ones this time; they loomed up larger and darker as the rug flew northward. Now the carpet was over the Gap, making Bink feel less secure despite his wings; it was a long way down. When the rug passed through a cloud, it dipped alarmingly; it seemed there were internal downdrafts. But Humfrey rode with seeming equanimity, eyes closed, deep in thought.
It got worse. The carpet, possessing no intelligence, zoomed straight for its preprogrammed destination, not trying to avoid the cloud banks. The clouds formed into towering mountains and awesomely deep valleys, and the drafts got worse. No illusion, this building storm; though it lacked the colors and menacing swirls of Iris's illusion-cloud, in its somber way it was just as threatening.
Then the rug dropped through the fog and came out below. There was the North Village!
The windows of the King's palace were draped in black. 'I think it has happened,' Humfrey remarked as they landed before the palace gate.
A village Elder came out to meet them. 'Magician!' he cried. 'We were about to send for you. The King is dead!'
'Well, you'd better choose his successor, then,' Humfrey said acidly.
'There is no one-except you,' the Elder replied.
'Lamebrain! That's no recommendation,' Humfrey snapped. 'What would I want with the throne? It's a big boring job that would seriously interfere with my studies.'
The Elder stood his ground. 'Unless you can show us another qualified Magician, the law requires that you accept.'
'Well, the law can go-' Humfrey paused. 'We have more pressing business. Who is caretaker during the interim?''
'Roland. He is seeing to the funeral.'
Bink jumped. His father! But he knew immediately that his father would be scrupulous in avoiding any possible conflict of interest; better not even to tell him Bink was back in Xanth.
Humfrey glanced at Bink, seeming to have the same notion. 'Well, I think I know just the sucker for the job,' the Good Magician said. 'But he has a certain technical problem to surmount first.'
Bink suffered an exceedingly uncomfortable shiver of premonition. Not me! he tried to say, but still could not speak. I'm no Magician, really. I know nothing of kingship. All I want to do is save Chameleon. And let Trent get away, too.
'But first we have to settle a couple of other matters,' Humfrey continued. 'The Evil Magician Trent, the transformer, is back in Xanth, and a girl is dying. If we move fast, we may catch them both before it is too late.'
'Trent!' The Elder was shocked. 'What a time for him to show up.' He ran into the palace.
Very soon they had assembled a war party. The village travel-conjurer was given the precise location, and he started popping people through.
First to go was Roland himself. With luck he would catch the Evil Magician by surprise and stun him in place, nullifying his magic. Then the others could proceed safely. Next the Good Magician went, with his vial of healing water, to save Chameleon-if she still lived.
Bink realized that if this plan was successful, Trent would never have another chance to transform anyone. If they unknowingly executed the Evil Magician before Bink was transformed, he would remain forever a phoenix. Chameleon would be alone, although well. And his father would be responsible. Was there no way out of this predicament?
Well, the plan might fail. Trent could transform Roland and Humfrey. Then Bink himself might recover his human form, but Chameleon would die. That was no good either. Maybe Trent would have escaped before Roland arrived. Then Chameleon would be cured, and Trent would survive-but Bink would remain a bird.
