what magic was real, and what false?
The serpent hissed and gaped its jaws so widely that its mouth became as tall as the centaur. Its sinuous tongue snaked out to wrap around Chester's sword arm, immobilizing it, but Chester shifted his weapon to his other hand, and efficiently lopped off the tongue. The serpent made a hissing howl of agony and snapped its mouth closed, the tusks clanging against each other. Chester took a moment to unwrap the segment of tongue from his arm, then resumed slashing at the nose. He was holding his own.
The dragon arrived. It zoomed in at the Good Magician. Humfrey might be captive to the madness, but he was not a fool. His hand dived into his jacket and came out with a vial. But so swift was the dragon's onslaught that there was no time to open the container. Instead, Humfrey flipped it into the opening mouth. The dragon snapped at it automatically. The vial crunched under its bite. Vapor exploded, expanding into a cloud that jetted out between the dragon's teeth and coalesced about its head. But it did not form into anything else-no demon, no smoke screen, not even a sandwich. It just clung there in hardening gobs.
'What is it?' Bink cried. 'Did the vial misfire?'
'I had to grab randomly,' Humfrey replied. 'It's-I believe it is foaming insulation.'
'Slavering what?'
'Foaming insulation. It foams up, then hardens in place to keep things warm-or cold.'
Bink shook his head. The Magician was mad all right
How could anything act to keep things hot or cold? It either had to be like fire, heating, or like ice, cooling. And why would anyone bother with such magic?
The dragon, however, was not taking it with equanimity. It flexed in midair, and shook its head violently from side to side, trying to rid itself of the clinging stuff. It chewed and gulped, seeking to eliminate the foam. 'I wouldn't do that, if I were you,' Humfrey told it.
The dragon ignored him. It roared. Then it huffed and puffed, working up a head of fire in its belly. It looped about, its flapping wings throwing off chunks of hardened foam. Then it oriented on the Magician and blasted out its terrible fire.
Only a thin jet of flame emerged. Then, surprisingly, the dragon's body began inflating. It swelled up like a balloon, until only the legs, tail, wing tips and snout projected from the ball.
'What-?' Bink asked, amazed.
'The insulation hardens in place immediately in the presence of heat,' Humfrey explained. 'Thus the dragon's own fire had solidified it. Unfortunately that particular type of insulation is also-'
The dragon exploded. Stars shot out in every direction, scorching the jungle foliage below, zooming by Bink to the side, and making a fine display above.
'-explosively flammable when ignited,' Humfrey finished.
They watched the upward-flying stars rise to their heights, then explode in multicolored displays of sparks. The whole night sky became briefly brighter.
'I tried to warn that dragon,' Humfrey said without sympathy. 'One simply does not apply open flame to flammable insulation.'
Bink, privately, hardly blamed the dragon for misunderstanding that caution. He would have made the same mistake as the dragon had. If his talent permitted it. But this did impress on him one thing: should he (perish the thought!) ever have a serious disagreement with the Good Magician, he would have to watch out for those magic bottles! There was no telling what might come out of them.
Now a monster found Bink. It was the hydra. It had no wings, and could not have used the stairs because they were blocked by the serpent The hydra seemed to have descended by hanging from a thread-but no such thread was visible.
Bink swung at the monster with his sword. He was in excellent form; he caught the nearest of the seven heads cleanly, just behind the horns, and it flew off. Gore spouted out of the neck with such force that the jet separated into two channels. If this was all it took to beat this monster, Bink would have no trouble!
The two jets coagulated in midair, forming into twin lumps still attached to the neck. As more gore emerged, it splashed over these lumps, hardening, enlarging them. Excrescences developed, and the color darkened, until-
The lumps became two new heads! Each was smaller than the original, but just as vicious. Bink had only succeeded in doubling the menace he faced.
This was a problem. If each head he cut off converted into two, the longer and better he fought, the worse off he would be! Yet if he did not fight well, he would soon be consumed in seven-no, eight chunks. 'Catch, Bink!' Chester called, throwing something. Bink didn't appreciate the interruption to his concentration, but grabbed for it anyway. In the dark his sweeping fingers merely batted it aside. In the moment it touched him, his sanity returned. He saw himself on a branch of the tree, pointing his sword at-
But then the reverse-spell wood bounced out of range, and the madness resumed its grip on nun. He saw the chunk fly toward the hydra-and one of the heads reached out to gulp it down.
In that instant Bink suffered a rapid continuation of his prior line of thought. What would spell- reversal do inside an imaginary monster? If the hydra form were wholly a product of Bink's distorted perception-his madness, which he shared with his friends-it should be nullified-no, the wood had to be near him, to nullity the monsters he perceived. But since his friends saw the monsters too, and the wood could not be near them all at once-it had to be that the wood would not affect the monster, unless that monster had objective reality. Even then, the wood would not affect the form of the hydra, but only its talent-if the hydra had a talent. Most magical creatures did not have magic talents; their magic consisted of their very existence. So-nothing should happen.
The hydra screamed from all its eight mouths. Abruptly it dropped to the ground. It landed heavily and lay still, its stars fading out
Bink watched it, openmouthed. The hydra had not changed form-it had suffered destruction. What
