how to make Crombie's talent work-while the Magician snoozed.
Before, in the nickelpede cleft, Crombie had fouled up because there had been no single direction for escape. Was that the case now-no single source for magic? If so, that would be very hard to locate. But the cynosure of this group was on him; he had to perform, and in a hurry. It was evident that the Good Magician had done him no particular favor by leaving the leadership of the quest to Bink. 'Where is the most direct route to the source of magic?'
This time the griffin's wing pointed down at an angle.
So that was why there was no horizontal direction; the source was not across, but down. Yet that was not much help. They couldn't dig down very far, very fast. They would have to get a person whose talent was magic-tunneling, and that would mean delay and awkwardness. This group was already larger than Bink had anticipated. Better to find a natural route.
'Where is there an access to this source, from the surface?' Bink asked.
The wing began to vibrate back and forth. 'The nearest one!' Bink amended hastily. The wing stabilized, pointing roughly south.
'The heart of the unexplored wilderness,' Chester said. 'I should have known. Maybe I should take my Answer now and quit.'
Crombie squawked. 'Birdbeak says if you take your stupid Answer now, you can't quit, horserear.'
Chester swelled up angrily. 'Birdbeak said that? You tell him for me he has bird droppings for brains, and-'
'Easy,' Bink cautioned the centaur. 'Crombie needs no translation for your words.'
'Actually he called you an ass,' Grundy said helpfully. 'I assume he meant your rear end, which is about as asinine as-'
The griffin squawked again. 'Oops, my error,' the golem said. 'He referred to your front end.'
'Listen, birdbrain!' Chester shouted. 'I don't need your ignorant opinion! Why don't you take it and stuff it-'
But Crombie was squawking at the sametime. The two faced off aggressively. The centaur was bigger and more muscular than the griffin, but the griffin was probably the more deadly fighter, for he had the mind of a trained human soldier in the body of a natural combat creature.
'Squawk!' Bink screamed. 'I mean, stop! The golem is just making trouble. Obviously the word Crombie used was 'centaur.' Isn't that so, Crombie?'
Crombie squawked affirmatively. 'Spoilsport,' Grundy muttered, speaking for himself. 'Just when it was getting interesting.'
'Never mind that,' Bink said. 'Do you admit I was correct, Golem?'
A centaur is an ass-front and rear,' Grundy said sullenly. 'It depends on whether you are defining it intellectually or physically.'
'I think I will squeeze your big loud mouth into a small silent ball,' Chester said, reaching for the golem.
'You can't do that, muleface!' Grundy protested. I'm on the dwarf's business!'
Chester paused, seeing the Good Magician stir. 'Whose business?'
'This midget's business!' Grundy said, gesturing back at Humfrey with a single stiffened finger.
Chester looked at Humfrey, feigning perplexity. 'Sir, how is it you accept such insults from a creature who works for you?'
'Oops,' the golem muttered, discovering the trap. 'I thought he was asleep.'
'The golem has no personal reality,' Humfrey said. 'Therefore his words carry no personal onus. One might as well get angry at a lump of clay.'
'That's telling him, imp,' Grundy agreed. But he seemed chastened.
'Let's get on with our quest,' Bink suggested as the Good Magician closed his eyes again. Privately he wondered how it was that an unreal construct, the golem, could be in fee to the Magician. Grundy must have asked a Question, and had an Answer-but what could have motivated this magical entity to seek such information?
Then Bink had a minor inspiration as they trekked south. 'Crombie, someone or something has been trying to eliminate me. I think that's why the dragon came after us. Can you point out where that enemy is?'
'Squawk!' Crombie agreed. He whirled, and the Good Magician wobbled on his back but did not wake up. When the wing stabilized, it pointed-the same direction as it had for the source of magic.
'It seems,' Chester said gravely, 'that it is your mission your enemy opposes. Does that affect your attitude?'
'Yes,' Bink said. 'It makes me twice as determined as before.' Though he remembered that the sword had attacked him before he set out on this quest. Had his enemy anticipated him? That would be grim news indeed, implying more than ordinary strategy or magic. 'Let's get on with it.'
Near the Magician's castle the terrain was fairly quiet, but as they penetrated the wilderness it changed. High brush grew up, obscuring the view, and as they passed it there was a static discharge from the foliage that made hair and fur and feathers and string stand out eerily from their bodies. Overlooking this brush was an antenna, orienting unerringly on the party; Bink had never gotten close enough to one of these things to discover exactly what it was, and did not propose to start now. Why did these antennae watch so closely, yet take no action?
