The picture that formed this time was that of a foot, a paw-a monkey's paw.
Bink looked at it for some time, trying to figure out its meaning, but it eluded him. The mirror must have gotten confused and thrown in an irrelevant image. 'What is my talent?' he asked at last. And the mirror cracked.
'What are you doing?' Humfrey demanded behind him.
Bink jumped guiltily. 'I-seem to have broken your mirror,' he said. 'I was just-'
'You were just asking stupidly direct questions of an instrument designed for subtlety,' Humfrey said angrily. 'Did you actually think the mirror could reveal what the demon Beauregard balked at?'
'I'm sorry,' Bink said lamely.
'You're a lot more trouble than you're worth. But you are also a challenge. Let's get on with it.' The Magician made his gesture and incantation again, restoring the truth spell 'What is your-'
There was a crash. The glass had fallen out of the cracked mirror. 'I wasn't asking you!' Humfrey yelled at it. He returned to Bink. 'What-'
There was a shudder. The castle shook 'Earthquake!' the Magician exclaimed. 'Everything happens at once.'
He crossed the room and peered out an embrasure. 'No, it's only the invisible giant passing by.'
Humfrey returned once more to Bink. This time he squinted at him, hard. 'It's not coincidence. Something is preventing you-or anything else-from giving that answer. Some very powerful, unidentified magic. Magician-caliber enchantment. I had thought there were only three persons of that rank alive today, but it seems there is a fourth.'
'Three?'
'Humfrey, Iris, Trent. But none of these have magic of this type.'
'Trent! The Evil Magician?'
'Perhaps you call him evil. I never found him so. We were friends, in our fashion. There is a kind of camaraderie at our level-'
'But he was exiled twenty years ago.'
Humfrey looked slantwise at Bink. 'You equate exile with death? He resides in Mundania. My information does not extend beyond the Shield, but I am sure he survives. He is an exceptional man. But without magic now.'
'Oh.' Bink had equated exile with death, emotionally. This was a good reminder; there was life beyond the Shield. He still did not want to go there, but at least it diminished the specter.
'Though it galls me exceedingly, I dare not push the question further. I am not properly protected against interference magic.'
'But why would anyone try to prevent me from knowing my own talent?' Bink asked, bewildered.
'Oh, you know it. You just can't tell it-even to yourself. The knowledge is buried deep inside you. And there, it seems, it is going to remain. I simply am not prepared to take the risk involved for a mere one-year service; I'd almost certainly take a loss on that contract.'
'But why would a Magician-I mean, I'm nobody! How could it benefit anybody else to stop me from-'
'It might not be a person at all, but a thing placing a geis on you. A geis of ignorance.'
'But why?'
Humfrey grimaced. 'Lad, you grow repetitive. Your talent could represent some threat to some powerful special interest. As a silver sword is a threat to a dragon, even though it may not be near that dragon. So that entity protects itself by blocking off your knowledge of your talent.'
'But-'
'If we knew that, we'd know your talent,' Humfrey snapped, answering the unformed question.
Still Bink persisted. 'How can I demonstrate my talent, then, so I can stay in Xanth?'
'You do seem to have a problem,' Humfrey remarked, as if it were of only academic importance. He shrugged. 'I'd answer if I could, but I can't. There is of course no charge for my service, since I was unable to complete it. I will send a note with you. Perhaps the King will allow you to remain after all. I believe the bylaws specify that each citizen shall be possessed of magic, not that he actually has to demonstrate it in public. On occasion the demonstration is suspended. I remember one young man who was able to change the color of his urine at will, for example. An affidavit was accepted in lieu of public display.'
Failure seemed to have mellowed the Magician considerably. He served Bink a pleasant meal of brown bread and milk-from his private breadfruit orchard and deerfly stable, respectively-and chatted almost sociably. 'So many people come here and waste their questions,' he confided. 'The trick is not necessarily to find the answer, but to find the correct question. Yours is the first real challenge I've had in years. The last one was-let me think-the amaranth. This farmer wanted to know how to develop a really superior plant for greens and grain, so he could feed his family better, and bring in a little income for the comforts of life. I located the magic amaranth for him, and now its use has spread all over Xanth, and beyond it too, for all I know. It is possible to make bread from it that is almost indistinguishable from the real thing.' The Magician pulled out a drawer and brought out a special loaf. 'See, this has no stem; it was baked, not budded.' He broke off a chunk for Bink, who was glad to accept it. 'Now that was the kind of question to ask. The answer benefited the whole country of Xanth as well as the individual. Too many desires are of the monkey's-paw variety, in contrast.'
'The monkey's paw!' Bink exclaimed. 'When I asked the magic mirror, it showed me-'
