'It would. The image derives from a Mundane story. They thought it was fiction. But here in Xanth there is magic like that.'
'But what??'
'Do you want to invest a year's service after all?'
'Uh, no, not for that.' Bink concentrated on chewing the new bread. It was tougher than true bread.
'Then have it free. It simply means a type of magic that brings you more grief than good, though it grants what you technically ask. Magic you are better off without.'
Was Bink better off not knowing his talent? That was what the mirror had seemed to tell him. Yet how could exile, which would deprive him of it entirely, be better than knowledge? 'Do many people come with questions, stupid or otherwise?'
'Not so many now that I built this castle and hid it. Only the really determined find their way here now. Like you.'
'How did you build it?' So long as the Magician was talking
'The centaurs built it. I told them how to rid themselves of a local pest, and they served me for a year. They are very skilled craftscreatures, and did a fine job. Periodically I foul up the routes here, applying spells of misdirection, so as not to be pestered by casual querists; it's a good location.'
'The monsters!' Bink exclaimed. 'The hippocampus, the manticora-they're serving their year's service, discouraging idle questioners?'
'Of course. Do you think they'd stay here for the mere pleasure of it?'
Bink wondered. He remembered the unholy glee with which the seahorse had flung itself about. Still, it would naturally prefer the open sea to a mere moat.
He had finished the bread. It had been almost as good as real bread. 'With your powers of information, you could-why, you could be King.'
Humfrey laughed, and there was nothing whining or bitter about it. 'Who in his right mind would want to be King? It's a tedious, strenuous job. I am not a disciplinarian, but a scholar. Most of my labor is in making my magic safe and specific, refining it for greater applicability. Much remains to be done, and I am getting old. I can't waste time with diversions. Let those who wish the crown take it.'
Disconcerted, Bink cast about for someone who wanted to rule Xanth. 'The Sorceress Iris-'
'The trouble with dealing in illusion,' Humfrey said seriously, 'is that one begins to be deluded oneself. Iris doesn't need power half so much as she needs a good man.'
Even Bink could see the truth in that 'But why doesn't she marry?'
'She's a Sorceress, a good one. She has powers you have not yet glimpsed. She requires a man she can respect-one who has stronger magic than she does. In all Xanth, only I have more magic than she-and I'm of another generation, really too old for her, even if I had any interest in marriage. And of course we would be a mismatch, for our talents are opposite. I deal in truth, she in illusion. I know too much, she imagines too much. So she conspires with lesser talents, convincing herself that it can somehow work out' He shook his head. 'It is too bad, really. With the King fading, and no Heir Apparent, and this alternate requirement that the crown go only to a full Magician, it is entirely possible that the throne will be subject to her machinations. Not every young man has your integrity or loyalty to Xanth.'
Bink felt a chill. Humfrey knew about Iris's offer, about their encounter. The Magician did not merely answer questions for a fee, he kept track of what was going on in Xanth. But he did not, it seemed, bother to interfere. He just watched. Maybe he investigated the background of specific seekers while the seahorse, wall, and manticora delayed them, so that by the time one won through, Humfrey was ready. Maybe he saved the information, in case someone came to ask 'What is the greatest danger facing Xanth?', whereupon he could collect his fee for answering.
'If the King dies, will you take the crown?' Bink asked. 'As you said, it will have to go to a powerful Magician, and for the good of Xanth-'
'You pose a question almost as awkward as the one that brought you here,' the Good Magician said ruefully. 'I do have a certain modicum of patriotism, but I also have a policy against interfering with the natural scheme of things. There is some substance to the concept of the monkey's paw; magic does have its price. I suppose if there were absolutely no alternative I would accept the crown-but first I would search most diligently for some superior Magician to assume the chore. We have not had a top talent appear in a generation; one is overdue.' He gazed speculatively at Bink, 'There seems to be magic of that caliber associated with you-but we cannot harness it if we cannot define it. So I doubt you are the heir to the throne.'
Bink exploded with incredulous, embarrassed laughter. 'Me? You insult the throne.'
'No, there are qualities in you that would honor the throne-if you only had identified, controllable magic. The Sorceress may have chosen better than she knew, or intended. But evidently there is countermagic that balks you-though I am not sure the source of that countermagic would make a good King either. It is a strange matter, most intriguing.'
Bink was tempted by the notion of being a potent Magician, becoming King, and ruling Xanth. Oddly, it quickly turned him off. He knew, deep inside, that he lacked the qualities required, despite Humfrey's remarks. This was not merely a matter of magic, but of basic life style and ambition. He could never sentence a man to death or exile, however justified that sentence might be, or lead an army into battle, or spend all day deciding the altercations of citizens. The sheer responsibility would soon weigh him down. 'You're right. No sensible person would want to be King. All I want is to marry Sabrina and settle down.'
'You are a most sensible lad. Stay the night, and on the morrow I will show you a direct route home, with protections against the hazards on the way.'
'Nickelpede repellent?' Bink asked hopefully, remembering the trenches Cherie the centaur had hurdled.
'Precisely. You will still have to keep your wits about you; no route is safe for a stupid man. But two days' travel on foot will suffice.'
