That last little dig at the girl's stupid phase annoyed him. "Go jump in the Gap," Bink said.
The figure changed back to Iris-beautiful. It faced Chameleon. "I don't know you, my dear, but it would be a shame to see you fed to a dragon."
"A dragon!" Chameleon cried, frightened.
"That is the customary penalty for violating exile. When I notify the authorities, and they put their magic-spotters on you three and verify your status-"
"Leave her alone!" Bink said sharply.
Iris ignored him. "Now if you could only persuade your friend to cooperate," she continued to Chameleon, "you could escape that horrible fate-those dragons really like to chew on pretty limbs-and be beautiful all the time." Iris had claimed not to know Chameleon, but she had evidently figured things out. "I can make you seem as lovely in your off phase as you are right now."
"You can?" Chameleon asked, excited.
"The deceptions of the Sorceress are apt," Trent murmured to Bink, obviously with double meaning.
"The truth is not in her," Bink murmured back. "Only illusion."
"A woman is as a woman seems," Iris told Chameleon. "If she looks lovely to the eye and feels lovely to the touch, she is lovely. That is all men care about."
"Don't listen to her," Bink said. "The Sorceress just wants to use you."
"Correction," Iris said. "I want to use you, Bink. I bear no malice to your girlfriend-so long as you cooperate with me. I am not a jealous woman. All I want is power."
"No!" Bink cried.
Chameleon, following his lead uncertainly, echoed: "No."
"Now you, Magician Trent," Iris said. "I have not been watching you long, but you seem to be a man of your word, at least when it suits your convenience. I could make you a formidable Queen-or I can have the palace guards on the way to kill you in five minutes."
"I would transform the guards," Trent said.
"From longbow range? Perhaps," she said, raising a fair eyebrow skeptically. "But I doubt you could be King after such an incident. The whole land of Xanth would be out to kill you. You might transform a great number-but when would you sleep?"
Telling blow! The Evil Magician had been caught before when he slept. If he were exposed before he could surround himself with loyal troops, he would not be able to survive.
But why should that bother Bink? If the Sorceress betrayed the Evil Magician, Xanth would be secure-through no action of Bink's. His own hands would be clean. He would have betrayed neither his country nor his companion. He should simply stay out of it.
"Well, I might transform animals or people into my own likeness," Trent Said. "It would then be very hard for the patriots to know whom to kill."
"Wouldn't work," Iris said. "No imitation will fool a magic-spotter, once it fixes on its subject."
Trent considered. "Yes, it would be very difficult for me to prevail in such circumstance. Considering this, I believe I should accept your offer, Sorceress. There are some details to work out, of course-"
"You can't!" Bink cried, shocked.
Trent gazed at him, affecting mild perplexity. "It seems reasonable to me, Bink. I desire to be King; Iris desires to be Queen. There is power enough to share, that way. Perhaps we could define spheres of influence. It would be a marriage of pure convenience-but I have no present interest in any other kind of liaison."
"Well, now," Iris said, smiling victoriously.
"Well nothing!" Bink cried, conscious that his prior decision to stay clear of this matter was being abrogated. "You're both traitors to Xanth. I won't permit it."
"You won't permit it!" Iris laughed indelicately. "Who the hell do you think you are, you spell-less twerp?"
Obviously, her true attitude toward him had come out now that she had found another avenue for her ambition.
"Do not treat him lightly," Trent told her. "Bink is a Magician, in his fashion."
Bink felt a sudden, well-nigh overwhelming flood of gratitude for this word of support. He fought it off, knowing he could not afford to permit flattery or insult to sway him from what he knew was right. The Evil Magician could spin a web of illusion with mere words that rivaled anything the Sorceress could do with magic. "I'm no Magician; I'm just loyal to Xanth. To the proper King."
"To the senile has-been who exiled you?" Iris demanded. "He can't even raise a dust devil any more. He's sick now; he'll soon be dead anyway. That's why the time to act is now. The throne must go to a Magician."
"To a good Magician!" Bink retorted. "Not to an evil transformer, or a power-hungry, sluttish mistress " He paused, tempted to end it there, but knew that wouldn't be entirely honest. "Of illusion."
"You dare address me thus?" Iris screamed, sounding much like a harpy. She was so angry that her image wavered into smoke. "Trent, change him into a stinkbug and step on him."
Trent shook his head, suppressing a smile. He obviously had no emotional attachment to the Sorceress, and shared a masculine appreciation for the insulting pause Bink had made. Iris had, just now, shown them all how ready she was to sell her illusion-enhanced body for power. "We operate under truce."
"Truce? Nonsense!" Her smoke now became a column of fire, signifying her righteous wrath. "You don't need him any more. Get rid of him."
Again, Bink saw how she would have treated him after he had helped her achieve power and she no longer needed him.
Trent was adamant. "If I were to break my word to him, Iris, how could you trust my word to you?"
That sobered her-and impressed Bink. There was a subtle but highly significant difference between these two magic-workers. Trent was a man, in the finest sense of the word.
Iris was hardly pleased. "I thought your truce was only until you got out of the wilderness."
"The wilderness is not defined solely by the jungle," Trent muttered.
"What?" she demanded.
"That truce would be worthless if I abridged its spirit thus suddenly," Trent said. "Bink and Chameleon and I will part company, and with luck we shall not meet again."
The man was being more than fair, and Bink knew he should accept the situation and depart-now. Instead, his stubbornness drove him toward disaster. "No," he said. "I can't just go away while you two plot to conquer Xanth."
"Now, Bink;" Trent said reasonably. "I never deceived you about my ultimate objective. We always knew our purposes were divergent. Our truce covered only our interpersonal relation during the period of mutual hazard, not our long-range plans. I have pledges to fulfil, to my Mundane army, to Castle Roogna, and now to the Sorceress Iris. I am sorry you disapprove, for I want your approval very much, but the conquest of Xanth is and always was my mission. Now I ask you to part from me with what grace you can muster, for I have high respect for your motive, even though I feel the larger situation places you in error."
Again Bink felt the devastating allure of Trent's golden tongue. He could find no flaw in the reasoning. He had no chance to overcome the Magician magically, and was probably outclassed intellectually. But morally-he had to be right. "Your respect means nothing if you have no respect for the traditions and laws of Xanth."
"A most telling response, Bink. I do have respect for these things-yet the system seems to have gone astray, and must be corrected, lest disaster overtake us all."