Bink looked at Humfrey. The Magician was still absorbed in his taxonomy. 'There's a rhinoceros beetle, trying to bull-doze down houses,' Humfrey said. 'Those houseflies aren't going to like that!'
'Sir, it will be dangerous to sleep out here. If your magic can help us pick the best spot-'
'Now they're bringing in carpenter ants to shore up the timbers!'
'Maybe something from one of your bottles, some temporary shelter for the night-' Bink continued.
'But that rhino is too stupid to quit! He-'
'Magician!' Bink snapped, losing patience.
Humfrey glanced up. 'Oh, hello, Bink. Haven't you set up for the night yet?' He glanced down again. 'Look! They've hired an assassin bug! They're going to get rid of that-'
It was useless. The Magician cared more for information than for safety. Humfrey was no leader, which explained why he had been so ready to leave that chore to Bink. So it was up to Bink, again.
'We'll have to make some sort of shelter,' he decided. 'And keep watch in turns.' He paused, considering the problems. How could they make shelter, when every piece of wood, stone, or foliage would be fiercely protective of its rights? This was the untamed wilderness!
Then his roving gaze spied a prospect: the great curving bones of a defunct monster. He couldn't tell what kind of animal it had been in life, but it must have been larger than a dragon. The bones seemed too solid for a roc, and there was no sign of wings, so probably it had been a grown groundborne sphinx. Ten times the height of a man. The only reason sphinxes did not rule the jungle was their rarity, and disinterest in ordinary matters. Dragons were common, while sphinxes were hardly ever encountered. Bink wondered why that was so, and what could kill a sphinx in its prime. Boredom, perhaps. 'Crombie, point out the direction of the closest suitable or adaptable site for our overnight camp,' he said, wishing to verify his notion.
Crombie obliged. He pointed toward the bones. Bink's hunch had been right! He was gratified. 'We'll gather some blanket leaves and spread them over those bones,' he said. 'That will make us a decent shelter, and it can serve as a fort in case of attack. Crombie, point us out the nearest blankets.'
The griffin pointed-right into the quivering ropes of a predator tree. It was not a tangler, but seemed related; it would hardly be safe to go there! 'Well, maybe we can stay on guard better if we can see out,' Bink decided. 'Chester, why don't you stand the first watch. Wake me up the moment you find yourself getting sleepy, then wake Crombie.'
The centaur nodded agreement. He did not inquire about Humfrey's share of the work; obviously the Magician would not be reliable for this.
Chapter 8
Mad Constellations
Bink paused for a call of nature, not of magic-and spied a chunk of wood, so dark and moss-grown that it resembled a rock. Something like that could be useful, in case a monster attacked in the night. The wood seemed to have a nice heft, good for throwing. He squatted to pick it up-and paused, in case it should be enchanted. But his talent would protect him; if the piece were dangerous, he would be unable to touch it
He picked it up, observing the etched grain of it, brown and green and white and altogether intriguing. It was surprisingly hard and heavy, for wood; he wondered whether it would float or sink in water. He felt a tingle in his hand as he held the chunk. There was some quality about it, something magic, strange and potent He felt his talent responding, taking nebulous hold, sizing up this thing, as it had once before when he drank from the spring of life. As before, his magic encompassed that of the other thing, and accepted it without penalty. Bink's talent was of Magician stature; he seldom felt its action directly except when it encountered strong or complex opposing magic. Yet-a chunk of wood?
He carried the chunk back to their temporary camp. 'I don't know what this is, but it seems to be strongly magical. It may be useful!.'
Chester took it 'Wood, unusual, durable. This might have come from a very large, old tree. I don't recognize the species, which makes it remarkable. Maybe you could find some of the bark-'
Crombie squawked. 'Give it here, horseface. I've seen a lot of wood in my day.'
Chester stiffened only slightly. 'By all means, bird-beak.'
Crombie held the chunk in one foreclaw and inspected it closely. 'Squawk.'
'Something odd about this.'
'Yes,' Bink agreed. 'Before you get too involved, will you point out the nearest food for us? We can eat while considering.'
Crombie obligingly whirled and pointed. Bink looked, and saw a large glowing fungus. 'That must be it. I never ate glow before, but your talent's never wrong.' He walked over and reached down to break off a section. The fungus was firm and dry, pale inside, and emitted a pleasant odor.
'Squawk!' Crombie protested to the centaur. 'I'm not through with it.'
'You've had it long enough, buzzard-brain,' Chester said. 'My turn now.'
Bink had to run to break up yet another quarrel. The trouble with fighting creatures was that they tended to fight! He couldn't turn his back on them even to fetch food. 'It's the Magician's turn!' he cried. 'Maybe he can identify it.' He took back the wood and carried it to Humfrey. 'Sir, if you care to classify this rare specimen-'
He had said the magic words. The Magician's attention was attracted. He looked. He blinked. 'That's Blue Agony fungus! Get rid of it!'
