Bink would have temporized, pretending misunderstanding, trying to delay the inevitable. The Evil Magician was more decisive. "As you require," Trent said. Suddenly his blade was in his hand, flashing in an arc-and the centaur's noble head flew off the body, to land upright on the ground just beyond the flame.
Bink stared, aghast. He had never before witnessed such a cold-blooded killing.
"I thank you," the head said. "You abated the agony most efficiently. Your secret dies with me." The centaur's eyes closed.
Herman the Hermit had really wanted it that way. Trent had judged correctly and acted instantly. Bink himself would have bungled it.
"There was a creature I would have been proud to have taken for a friend," Trent said sadly. "I would have saved him had it been within my power."
Little lights danced in close, centering on that dead head. At first Bink supposed they were sparks, but they did not actually burn. "The will-o'-the-wisps," Trent murmured. "Paying their last respects."
The lights dispersed, taking with them their vague impression of wonders barely glimpsed and joys never quite experienced. The fire consumed the body, then the head, and swept on into an already-burned area. Most of the remaining flame was now in the center of the circle, where the invisible giant no longer thrashed.
Trent raised his voice. "All creatures silent, in respect for Herman the Hermit, wronged by his own kind, who has died in defense of Xanth. And for Bigfoot and all the other noble creatures who perished similarly."
A hush fell on the throng. The silence became utter; not even an insect hummed. One minute, two minutes, three-no sound. It was a fantastic assemblage of monsters pausing with bowed heads in deference to the ones who had labored so valiantly against the common enemy. Bink was profoundly moved; never again would he think of the creatures of the magic wild as mere animals.
At last Trent lifted his eyes again. "Xanth is saved, thanks to Herman-and to you all," he announced "The wiggles are exterminated. Disperse, with our gratitude, and go with pride. There is no more important service you could have performed, and I salute you."
"But some wiggles may have escaped," Bink protested in a whisper.
"No. None escaped. The job was well done."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I heard no zaps during the silence. No wiggle sits still longer than three minutes."
Bink's mouth dropped open. The silence of respect and mourning, sincere as it had been, had also been the verification that the menace had indeed been abated. Bink would never have thought of that himself. How competently Trent had assumed the difficult and demanding chore of leadership, when the centaur died. And without betraying his secret.
The assorted monsters dispersed peaceably, operating under the tacit truce of this effort. Many were wounded, but they bore their pain with the same dignity and courage Herman had, and did not snap at one another. The great land serpent slithered by, and Bink counted half a dozen holes along its length, but it did not pause. The serpent, like the others, had come to do what had to be done-but it would be as dangerous as ever in future encounters.
"Shall we resume our journey?" Trent inquired, glancing for the last time across the flat bare disk of ashes.
"We'd better," Bink said. "I think the fire is dying out now."
Abruptly he was the sphinx again, half as tall as the invisible giant and far more massive. Apparently Trent had decided multiple transformations were safe. Trent and Chameleon boarded, and he retraced the path to their cache of supplies. "And no more comfort breaks," Bink muttered in a boom. Someone chuckled.
Chapter 15.
Duel
They crested a forest ridge-and abruptly the wilderness ended. The blue fields of a bluejean plantation spread out before them: civilization.
Trent and Chameleon dismounted. Bink had trudged all night, tirelessly, sleeping while his great legs worked by themselves. Nothing had bothered the party; even the fiercest things of the wilderness had some caution. Now it was mid-morning, a fine clear day. He felt good.
Suddenly he was a man again-and he still felt good. "I guess this is where we part company at last," he said.
"I'm sorry we could not agree on more things," Trent said, putting out his hand. "But I think separation will abate those differences. It has been a pleasure to know you both."
Bink took the hand and shook it, feeling oddly sad. "I suppose by definition and talent you are the Evil Magician-but you helped save Xanth from the wiggles, and in person you have been a friend. I can not approve your designs, but " He shrugged. "Fare-well, Magician."
"Same here," Chameleon said, flashing Trent a breathtaking smile that more than made up for the inelegance of her speech.
"Well, isn't this cozy?" a voice said.
All three whirled defensively-but there was nothing to see. Nothing but the ripening jeans on their green vines, and the forbidding fringe of the jungle.
Then a swirl of smoke formed, thickening rapidly. "A genie," Chameleon said.
But now Bink recognized the forming shape. "No such luck," he said. "That's the Sorceress Iris, mistress of illusion."
"Thank you for the elegant introduction, Bink," the now-solid-seeming woman said. She stood among the jeans, ravishing in a low-cut gown-but Bink felt no temptation now. Chameleon, at the full flush of her beauty, had a natural if magical allure that the Sorceress could not duplicate by her artifice.
"So this is Iris," Trent said. "I knew of her before I left Xanth, since she is of my generation, but we never actually met. She is certainly skilled at her talent."
"It happened I had no hankering for transformation,'' Iris said, giving him an arch glance. "You left quite a trail of toads and trees and bugs and things. I thought you had been exiled."
"Times change, Iris. Didn't you observe us in the wilderness?''
"As a matter of fact, I didn't. That jungle is a dreary place, with quite a number of counter-illusion spells, and I had no idea you were back in Xanth. I don't believe anyone knows, not even Humfrey. It was the huge sphinx that attracted my attention, but I could not be sure you were involved until I saw you transform it into Bink. I knew he had been exiled recently, so something was definitely amiss. How did you pass the Shield?"
"Times change," Trent repeated enigmatically.
"Yes they do," she said, nettled at being put off. She looked at each of them in turn. Bink had not realized she could project her illusions so effectively, so far afield, or perceive things from such distances. The ramifications of the powers of Magicians and Sorceresses were amazing. "Now shall we get down to business?"
"Business?" Bink asked blankly.
"Don't be naive," Trent muttered. "The bitch means blackmail."
So it was strong magic opposing strong magic. Maybe they would cancel each other out, and Xanth would be safe after all. Bink had not anticipated this.
Iris looked at him. "Are you sure you won't reconsider my prior offer, Bink?" she inquired. "I could arrange things so that your exile would be revoked. You could still be King. The time is ripe. And if you really prefer the innocent look in women-" Suddenly another Chameleon stood before him, as beautiful as the real one. "Anything you desire, Bink-and with a mind, too."