The Source of Magic (45 page)

“That’s hopeless,” Bink said. “I’ll never see her again, and even if I did—” He shrugged. “There can be nothing between us.”

“Right. So if you don’t mind, I’ll just take this wish and wish her to drink some of that love potion—and to see me next thing. Then she’ll feel about me the way you felt about her. Only I’ll be available, seeing as I have to marry someone anyway.”

And Crombie was a dashing soldier and a handsome man. Inevitably the love the potion started would become real. The hurt Jewel felt for what Bink had done to her, striking her down with his sword, would make the transition easier. Except—

“But you like to travel about,” Chester said before Bink could formulate the same objection. “She lives below, planting precious stones. That’s her job; she wouldn’t leave it.”

“So we’ll separate—and rejoin,” Crombie said. “I’ll be seeing her part-time, not all the time. That’s the way I like it. I’m a soldier.”

And that, neatly, solved Bink’s problem.

“What about me?” Grundy demanded. “Without birdbeak, I have no job. I’m real, now; I can’t just disappear.”

“There is occasional need for translation around this court,” the King said. “We shall find employment for you.” He glanced about. “That about suffices for tonight. Quarters have been arranged for all of you, here at the palace.” With that he ushered them out.

Bink was last to go. “I—I’m sorry I caused all this trouble,” he said. “The Good Magician tried to warn me, and so did Beauregard the demon, but I wouldn’t listen. Just because I wanted to know the source of magic—”

“Have no concern, Bink,” the King said with a reassuring smile. “I was aware that there was an element of risk when I sent you—but I was as curious about the source of magic as you, and I felt that it was best to have the discovery made by you, protected by your talent. I knew your talent would see you through.”

“But my talent was lost when the magic went, and—”

“Was it, Bink? Didn’t it strike you that the Demon’s return was unusually fortuitous?”

“Well, he wanted a private place to—”

“Which he could have arranged anywhere in the universe. What
really
brought him back? I submit that it was your talent, still looking out for your long-range interests. Your marriage was in trouble, so your magic indulged in an extraordinary convolution to set it straight.”

“I—I can’t believe my talent could operate to affect the origin of magic itself!” Bink protested.

“I have no such difficulty. The process is called feedback, and it can and does reflect profoundly on the origin. Life itself may be regarded as a feedback process. But even if that were
not the case, your talent could have anticipated the chain of events, and established a course that would inevitably bring magic back to the Land of Xanth, much as an arrow shot into the air inevitably returns—”

“Uh, when we fought the constellations, Chester’s arrows didn’t—”

The King shook his head. “Forgive an inept analogy. I shall not bore you further with my Mundane perspective. I am satisfied with the result of your quest, and you should be satisfied too. I suspect that had any other person released the Demon, X(A/N)
^th
would never have returned to our realm. At this point the matter is academic. We shall have to find another occupation for you, but there is no rush. Go home to your wife and son.”

“Son?”

“Oh, did I forget to inform you? As of dusk you became the father of a Magician-class baby, my likely successor to the throne—in due course. I suggest that infant’s talent is the Demon’s selected gift to you, and perhaps another reason your own talent put you through this adventure.”

“What talent does the baby have?” Bink asked, feeling giddy. His son—an overt Magician at birth!

“Oh, I wouldn’t spoil the surprise by telling you! Go home and see for yourself!” King Trent clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Your home life will never be dull again!”

Bink found himself on his way. Talents never repeated in the Land of Xanth, except maybe among fiends, so his son could not be a transformer like the King or a storm master like the prior King, or a magic-adapter like King Roogna who had built Castle Roogna, or an illusionist like Queen Iris. What could it be, that showed so early?

As he approached the cabin at the edge of the palace estate, and smelled the faint residual odor of cheese from the cottage, Bink’s thoughts turned to Chameleon. It had been only a week since he had left her, but it seemed like a year. She would be in her normal phase now, ordinary in appearance and intelligence: his favorite. Their mutual worry about the prospects of their baby was over; the boy was not variable like her, or seemingly
without talent like him. His love for her had been tested most severely, by the love potion and availability of a most desirable alternative. What a relief to have Crombie going after Jewel … though that could be another action of his talent. At any rate, now Bink knew how much he loved Chameleon. He might never have realized, had he not had this adventure. So the King was right; he—

Someone emerged from the cabin. She cast a triple shadow in the light of the three moons, and she was beautiful. He ran to meet her with an exclamation of joy, grabbed her and—discovered it was not Chameleon.

“Millie!” he exclaimed, turning her hastily loose. She had phenomenal sex appeal, but all he wanted was Chameleon. “Millie the ghost! What are you doing here?”

“Taking care of your wife,” Millie said. “And your son. I think I’m going to like being a nursemaid again. Especially to so important a person.”

“Important?” Bink asked blankly.

“He talks to things!” she blurted enthusiastically. “I mean, he goo-goos at them, and they answer back. His crib sang him a lullaby, his pillow quacked like a duck, a rock warned me not to trip over it so I wouldn’t drop the Magician—”

“Communication with the inanimate!” Bink breathed, seeing the significance of it. “He’ll never get lost, because every rock will give him directions. He’ll never be hungry, because a lake will tell him the best place to fish, or a tree—no, not a tree, that’s alive—some rock will tell him where to find fruit. He’ll be able to learn more news than the Good Magician Humfrey, and without consorting with demons! Though some of my best friends are demons, like Beauregard … No one will be able to betray him, because the very walls will tell him about any plots. He—”

A grim shape loomed out of the dark, dripping clods of earth. Bink gripped his sword.

“Oh, no, it’s all right!” Millie cried. “That’s only Jonathan!”

“That’s no man—that’s a zombie!” Bink protested.

“He’s an old friend of mine,” she said. “I knew him back
when Castle Roogna was new. Now that I’m alive again, he feels responsible for my welfare.”

“Oh.” Bink sensed a story there—but at the moment he only wanted to see his wife and son. “Was he the zombie I met—?”

“In the garden,” she agreed. “He got lost in the Queen’s maze, the night of the anniversary party. Then he came to me, inside, and got pickled. It took quite a spell to undo that! Now we’re looking for a spell to make him alive again, too, so we can—” She blushed delicately. Obviously the zombie had been more than a friend, in life. Millie had displayed an embarrassing interest in Bink himself, during that party, but it seemed the appearance of the zombie ended that. Another loose end Bulk’s talent had neatly tied up.

“When my son gets older we can have him ask about that,” Bink said. “There must be some rock, somewhere, that knows where a spell to restore zombies would be.”

“Oh, yes!” Millie cried ecstatically. “Oh, thank you!”

Bink faced the zombie, but did not offer to shake hands. “I think you were another omen for me, Jonathan. When I met you the first time, it signaled death with all its horrors: the death of magic. But through that death I found a kind of rebirth—and so will you.”

Bink turned to the door of the cottage, ready to join his family.