the fly, dipped a finger into his cooling pudding, brought out a creamy glob and put it gingerly to his mouth. It was delicious. 'This is the best food I ever ate!' he exclaimed, amazed.
'You say that, Bink. You think it stink,' Crunch growled, flattered.
Crombie squawked as he sampled his bowl. 'You may stink; this is great,' the golem translated.
Crunch, highly pleased by the double compliment, served himself a glob by dumping a bubbling fistful directly into his gaping maw. He licked off his fingers, then took another glob. As the others finished their helpings, the ogre served them more with the same hand. No one saw fit to protest; after all, what magic germs could survive that heat?
After the repast, they settled on the straw for the evening. The others seemed satisfied to sleep, but Bink was bothered by something. In a moment he identified it: 'Crunch, among our kind we offer some return service for hospitality. What can we do for you to repay this fine meal and lodging?'
'Say, that's right,' Chester agreed. 'You need some wood chopped or something?'
'That no good. Have plenty wood,' the ogre grunted. He smashed one fist down on a log, and it splintered into quivering fragments. He obviously needed no help there.
Crombie squawked. 'Birdbeak says he can point out where anything is. What do you want, stoneface?'
'Want sleep, you creep,' Crunch mumbled.
'Not until we do you some service,' Bink insisted.
'Take heed, no need!' Crunch closed one fist on a handful of straw, squeezed, and when he let go the straw had fused into one spindly stick. The ogre used this to pick at his gross teeth.
Chester argued caution for once. 'We can't force a service on him he doesn't want.'
'Maybe he doesn't know he wants it,' Bink said. 'We must honor the code.'
'You sure are a stubborn lout,' Grundy said, for once speaking for himself. 'Why stir up trouble?'
'It's a matter of principle,' Bink said uncertainly. 'Crombie, can you point out where the thing Crunch desires is?'
The griffin squawked affirmatively, spun about, stirred up the straw, and pointed. At the Good Magician Humfrey, nodding in the corner, one piece of straw straddling his head.
'Forget it,' Humfrey snapped sleepily. 'I am not available for consumption.'
'But he's a vegetarian!' Bink reminded him. 'It can't be that he wants to eat you. Maybe he wants to ask you a Question.'
'Not for one measly night's lodging! He'd have to serve me for a year.'
'Me have no question, no suggestion,' the ogre grunted.
'It does seem we're forcing something unwanted on our host,' Chester said, surprisingly diplomatic. That log-twisting and straw-squeezing and wood-splintering had evidently impressed the centaur profoundly. The ogre was clearly the strongest creature this party had encountered.
'There is something Crunch wants, even if he doesn't know it himself,' Bink said. 'It is our duty to locate it for him.' No one argued, though he was sure they all wished he would drop the subject. 'Crombie, maybe it isn't the Magician he wants, but something on the Magician. Exactly where did you point?'
Crombie squawked with tired resignation. He pointed again. Bink lined up his own finger, tracing the point. 'There!' he said. 'Something in his crotch.' Then he paused, abashed. 'Uh, his jacket, maybe.'
But the Magician, tired, had fallen asleep. His only answer was a snore.
'Oh, come on!' Grundy said. 'I'll check it out.' And he scrambled up on the Magician, climbing inside his jacket.
'I don't think-' Bink began, startled by this audacity.
'That's your problem,' the golem said from inside the jacket. 'It must be-this.' He emerged, clasping a vial in both arms. For him it was a heavy weight.
'That's the demon-bottle!' Chester said. 'Don't fool with-'
But Grundy was already prying out the cork.
Bink dived for him, but as usual was too late. The cork was not ornery this time; it popped off cleanly as Bink grabbed the bottle.
'Now you've done it!' Chester exclaimed. 'If Humfrey wakes-'
Bink was left holding the bottle as the demon coalesced, unbound by any magic inscription or incantation. 'Some-some-somebody make a-a-' Bink stammered.
Beauregard firmed, standing with a huge tome tucked under one arm. He peered at Bink beneath his spectacles. 'A pentacle?' the demon finished. 'I think not.'
'What have I done?' Bink moaned.
Beauregard waved negligently with his free hand. 'You have done nothing, Bink. It was the foolish golem.'
'But I set him in motion!'
'Perhaps. But do not be concerned. Rather consider yourself as the instrument of fate. Know that neither the bottle nor the pentacle constrained me; I but honored these conventions to please the Magician, to
