Bink froze, but the Demon laughed. The sound blasted out deafeningly. The magically ornate palace shattered about him, filling the air with debris, but none of it touched them.
'Know something?' Grundy remarked. 'He's changing-like me.'
'Changing-like you,' Bink repeated. 'Of course! While his magic was leaking out, infusing the whole Land of Xanth, some of our culture was seeping in, making him a little bit like us. That's why he feels comfortable here. That's why he can laugh. He does have some crude feelings.'
Cherie was right on it. 'Which means he might respond to a feeling challenge. Can you come up with one?'
'I can try,' Bink said. Then, as the Demon's mirth subsided, he said: 'Demon, I know a way to protect your privacy. We have a shieldstone, formerly used to protect the whole Land of Xanth from intrusion by outsiders. We valued our privacy as much as you value yours. Nothing living can pass through that shield. All I need to do is tell our King Trent about you, and he will set up the shield to prevent anyone from coming down here. The shield worked for us for over a century; it will work for you too. Then it won't matter who knows about you; every fool who tries to reach you will die, automatically.'
The Demon considered. 'The notion appeals. But the human mind and motivation are largely foreign to me. How can I be sure your King will honor your request?'
'I know he will,' Bink said. 'He's a good man, an honest one, and a savvy politician. He will immediately appreciate the need to protect your privacy, and will act on it.'
'How sure of that are you?' the Demon asked.
'I'd stake my life on it.'
'Your life is insignificant compared to my convenience,' the Demon said without humor.
'But my talent is significant in human terms,' Bink argued. 'It will act in my interest by encouraging the King to-'
'Your talent is nothing to me. I could reverse it by a simple snap of my fingers.' The Demon snapped his fingers with a sound like the detonation of a cherry bomb. Bink felt a horribly disquieting internal wrench, 'However, your challenge intrigues me. There is a certain element of chance involved that can not occur when I myself undertake a challenge. Therefore I must indulge myself to a certain extent vicariously. You say you shall stake your life on your ability to preserve my privacy. This is really no collateral, since your life is already forfeit, but I'll accept it Shall we gamble?'
'Yes,' Bink agreed. 'If that's what it takes to save my friends. I'll undertake any-'
'Bink, I don't like this,' Cherie said.
'Here is the testing laboratory,' the Demon said, indicating a huge pit that appeared as he gestured. Around it were spaced half a dozen doorways. The walls were vertical stone, too high and slick to climb. 'And here is the intruder.' A monster appeared in the center, a minotaur, with the head and tail and hooves of a bull and the body of a powerful man. 'If he escapes this chamber alive, he will intrude on my privacy. You will stop him if you can.'
'Done!' Bink cried. He jumped down into the arena, drawing his sword.
The minotaur surveyed him coolly. The return of magic had invigorated Bink, making him feel strong again-and he had never been a physical weakling. The muscles of his arms showed through the tattered shirt, and his body was balanced and responsive. His sword moved with smooth proficiency, buoyed by its magic, and the charmed blade gleamed. The monster decided to pass up the pleasure of this quarrel. It spun on one hoof and walked toward the exit farthest from Bink.
Bink pursued it. 'Turn about and fight like a monster!' he cried, unwilling to cut it down from behind.
Instead the creature broke into a run. But Bink's momentum carried him forward faster, and he caught the minotaur before it reached the exit. He hauled on its tail, causing the thing to crash into a wall. Bink put his sword to its throat. 'Yield!' he cried.
The minotaur shivered-and became a monster bug, with tremendous pincers, stinger, and mandibles. Bink, startled, stepped back. He was fighting a magic monster-one that could change its form at will! This was going to be a much more formidable challenge than he had, in his naivete, supposed.
What a fool he had been to hold back his sword, expecting this thing to yield! Surely its life, like his own, would be forfeit if it lost. He had to kill it in a hurry, before it killed him-or got away, which amounted to the same thing.
Even while he realized this, the bug was skittering toward the exit. Bink leaped after it, his sword swinging. But the bug had eye-stalks that looked back at him-in fact, it was now a giant slug, sliding along on a trail of slime. Bink's sword swished over its head harmlessly.
He could, however, move faster than a slug, even a large one. Bink jumped over it and reached the exit first, barring the way. He took careful aim and made a two-handed strike at the slug's head, to slice it lengthwise. But his blade clanged off the shell of a snail. The monster had changed again, to the nearest variant that would protect it. Either it was hard-pressed, or it lacked imagination.
Bink gave it no chance to think. He thrust directly into the opening of the shell. This time he scored- on the substance of a big green jellyfish. His blade sliced through it and emerged from the far side, dripping, without really hurting the blob. He carried his stroke on up and out and shook the blade off, disgusted. How could he kill a mass of jelly that sealed up after his cut?
He sniffed. Now he recognized the odor of the thing: lime. Lime-flavored jelly. Was it edible? Could he destroy the monster by eating it?
But as he pondered, the monster changed into a purple vulture the size of a man, Bink leaped for it, trying to slay it before it flew up beyond his reach-and skidded on the remaining patch of lime goo. What a disastrous coincidence!
Coincidence? No-this was his talent operating-in reverse. The Demon had negligently switched it. Now seeming coincidence would always work against Bink, instead of for him. He was his own worst enemy.
Still, he had done all right for himself when his talent had been largely canceled out by the brain
