Crombie squawked. 'There's no fool like a horse-reared fool,' the golem said.
'That's for sure,' Chester agreed, now in a good mood. 'Just don't tell Cherie.'
'Cherie?' the siren asked, frowning.
'My filly. The prettiest thing in Xanth. She's back home, tending our foal. His name is Chet.'
She assimilated that. 'How nice,' she said, disgruntled. 'I'd better see to your fodder now, and stall space.'
Bink smiled privately. Chester wasn't such a fool after all!
They had a modest repast of fish and sea cucumber, and bedded down in a pile of soft dry sponges. Bink stretched out his feet-and banged into another pile of dirt. This time he was too tired to stomp it flat, so he ignored it.
The siren, having given up on the centaur, nestled down in the dark beside Bink. 'Say,' he said, remembering. 'We have to give service for hospitality!'
Crombie squawked. 'You give service, noodle-brain,' Grundy said. 'You're closest to her.'
'Service?' the siren inquired, nudging him.
Bink found himself blushing furiously in the dark. Damn Crombie's innuendo! 'Uh, nothing,' he said, and pretended to fall suddenly asleep. Very soon it was no pretense.
In the morning they bade farewell to the siren after taking the time to break up some wood for her cooking fire-a service she appreciated, as she was not much for that sort of thing. They set about braving her sister. 'The rest of you must be blindfolded,' Humfrey decided. 'I will use the mirror.'
So he could view the gorgon indirectly, of course. That was the only way to look at such creatures; everyone knew that. Yet why did a mirror work? The image in the glass should be as horrendous as the original.
'Polarization,' the Magician explained without being asked. 'The magic of partial images.'
That didn't clarify things much. But a more important question remained. 'What do we do, to stop the-' Bink did not want to use the word 'kill' in the presence of the innocent siren. Getting close to the gorgon was one thing; dispatching her while blindfolded was another.
'We shall see,' Humfrey said. They submitted to blindfolding, including the golem. Then they formed a chain to follow the Good Magician, who walked backward on the path between the islands, using the mirror to see ahead. In this case he was not utilizing its magic, but merely the ordinary reflection: the natural magic all mirrors possessed.
It was strange and uncomfortable, crossing the water sightlessly. How awful it would be, to lose forever the power of seeing! What magic was better than the natural senses of life?
Bink's feet felt hard land. 'You stand here, facing out,' Humfrey told them. 'Just in case. I will deal with the gorgon.'
Still nervous, Bink obeyed. He felt tempted to rip off the blindfold, turn about, and look at the gorgon-but not strongly tempted. Once he had stood atop a tall mountain and suffered an urge to throw himself off it, similarly; it was as if there were a death urge in him along with the life urge. Perhaps the urge to adventure was drawn from the same wellspring. 'Gorgon,' Humfrey said.
Right behind Bink, she answered. 'I am she. Welcome to my isle.' Her voice was dulcet; she sounded even more attractive than her sister. 'Why do you not look at me?'
'Your glance would turn me into stone,' Humfrey said bluntly.
'Am I not beautiful? Who else has locks as serpentine as mine?' she asked plaintively, and Bink heard the faint hissing of the snakes. He wondered what it would be like to kiss the gorgon, with those snake-hairs twining around their two faces. The notion was both alarming and tempting. Yet what was the gorgon except the literal personification of the promise and threat embodied in every woman?
'You are beautiful,' Humfrey agreed gravely. She must be beautiful indeed, Bink thought, for the Good Magician did not waste compliments. Oh, for a single look! 'Where are the other men who came to you?'
'They went away,' she said sadly.
'Where did they go?'
'There,' she said, and Bink assumed she was pointing. 'Beyond those rocks.'
Humfrey moved over to investigate. 'These are statues,' he said, unsurprised. 'Statues of men, exquisitely realistic. Carved, as it were, from life.'
'Yes,' she agreed brightly. 'They look just like the men who came to me.'
'Does that not suggest anything to you?'
'The men left the gifts behind, pictures of themselves, sculptures. But I would rather have had the men stay with me. I have no use for stones.'
She didn't realize what she had done! She thought these were mere images offered as remembrances. Maybe she refused to realize the truth, blocking it out from her consciousness, pretending she was an ordinary girl. She refused to believe in her own magic. What a fateful delusion!
Yet, Bink thought, wasn't this too typical of the thought processes of females? What one among them chose to recognize the mischief her sex worked among men!
But that was Crombie's contention, therefore probably an exaggeration. There might be a little siren and a little gorgon in every girl, but not a lot. There was hardly any in Chameleon.
'If more men come,' Humfrey continued with unusual gentleness, 'they will only leave more statues. This is not good.'
