Piers Anthony - The Source of Magic

They tried it. They located a place where the magic path looped down within reach of the ground, and Crombie whirled and pointed to discover whether there was any danger along this limited-access highway. There was not. They climbed aboard and followed it up high into the trees. The strange thing about it was that the path was always level, no matter how it looped. The forest turned crazy circles about it, however. At times the sun was underfoot, and at times to one side, while the trees assumed varying angles. Bink, curious, reached out to touch the foliage of one tree whose trunk reached up into the ground above; it was solid. Of course he knew that he was the one who was upside down; the path established its own orientation. Looking back, he could see the griffin marching at a different tilt, and knew that to griffin, Magician, and golem the centaur was the tilted one. Intriguing magic, but harmless. So far.

Meanwhile, he enjoyed the convenience and the view. The path led through the forest, generally high above the ground, and this new view of things was refreshing. Slants of sunlight crossed it, and gently hued columns of mist. It was neither man's-eye nor bird's-eye, but an intermediate and unique perspective. The path passed safely above the ant-lion range, yet below the flying-predator range. Bink observed several small flying dragons, a harpy, and a distant roc, but none flew near the path.

The plants, too, were unusually passive. Constrictor tentacles dangled in the vicinity of the path, but never on it, and no branches reached across to block it. Obviously this path was charmed, and that was suspicious; the best paths were almost by definition the worst ones. Bink remembered how easy it had been to penetrate the forest around Castle Roogna, back when it had been derelict, and how hard it had been to escape it. What were they walking into now?

Crombie's talent said there was no danger in the direction the path went-but Crombie's talent could be too literal. To Bink, anything that might delay the completion of his quest was a threat. One simply could not afford to trust strange magic. He'd better ask the Good Magician.

"Of course it's safe, Bink," Humfrey said with irritation. "Do you suppose I would be riding it otherwise?"

Bink hadn't even asked the question yet! The Magician retained his special talent, though his grumpy refusal to use it for the convenience of the party made his company seem at times to be worth little more than that of a harpy. What point was there in having a Magician along, if he never used his magic to facilitate things? Even the Evil Magician had freely pitched in when danger threatened to-

"That is the point, Bink," Humfrey said. "There is no present danger. When the situation changes, I will expend my carefully hoarded magic. You are young, yet; you dissipate your resources heedlessly, and get into scrapes you should have avoided."

Served him right for letting his thoughts flow carelessly! Bink shut up, mentally, and rode on. In due course the path wound down to a pleasant little village, with houses thatched with hay and daubed with colored muds, and neat walkways connecting places of interest.

"Do you notice," Chester said, "there is no magic in the local construction? Only mundane materials."

"That's right," Bink said, surprised. "If we're approaching the source of magic, on a magic path, shouldn't there be more magic rather than less?" He turned to the griffin. "Crombie, are you sure this is-?"

Crombie squawked. "Birdbeak is sure this is the right direction," the golem said. "But the village may be a mere item on the way, not the destination itself."

A grizzled old harpy flapped out to meet the party as it reached the foot of the path. All of them braced for trouble, for harpies were notorious. But this one, though suitably hideous, was clean and unaggressive. "Welcome, travelers," she said without even bothering to insult them. A most restrained harpy!

"Uh, thanks," Bink said. "We're looking for-a place to spend the night. We don't mean any mischief." He had never heard of a harpy acting polite, so remained on guard, hand over sword.

"You shall have it," she agreed. "You are all males?"

"Yes," Bink said uneasily. "We are on a quest for the source of magic. Your village appears to lie near this. We-"

"Five males," the harpy said. "What a bonanza!"

"We're not interested in your females," Chester said with some of his normal belligerence.

Crombie squawked. "Not their minds, anyway," the golem translated.

Chester's lip curled with almost equine facility. Bink had to speak at once, before another quarrel brewed. "We shall be happy to do some chore for you, in return for food and safe lodging overnight. Then tomorrow, if you have information about magic-"

"You will have to discuss that with Trolla," the harpy said. "This way, please." And she flapped off, muttering once more: "Men!" with hideous excitement.

"Then again, you may have a point," Chester murmured to Crombie. "If we have fallen into a nest of harpies…"

"We may be best advised to get on that aerial path and go back the way we came," Bink finished, glancing back.

But the path was gone. They could not escape that way.

Trolla turned out to be-a female troll. She was almost as ugly as the harpy, but she too was amazingly polite. "I realize you are uneasy, you handsome male visitors," Trolla said. "And you have reason to be. But not because of any of the residents of this village. Allow me to serve you supper, while I explain our situation."

Bink exchanged glances with the others. Both centaur and griffin looked distinctly uncomfortable, but the Good Magician seemed to have no concern.

Trolla clapped her horny hands, and several wood-nymphs came in, bearing platters. Their hair was green, their skin brown, their lips and fingernails red: like flowering trees. But their outlines were human; each was a pert, lithe, full-breasted bare beauty. Each eyed Bink and Humfrey with more than casual interest. "Hunger" might be a better term. The food was virtually mundane: vegetables and fruits harvested locally, and small dragon steaks. Milkweed pods provided the liquid; it was good milk, but in no way special.

"You may have noted we have used no magic in the preparation of this meal," Trolla said. "We use as little magic as possible here, because there is more magic here than anywhere else on the surface of Xanth. I realize that may not make much sense to you-"

"Quite sensible," Humfrey said, chomping into another steak.

Trolla focused on him. "You must be a Magician, sir."

"Umph." He seemed to be more interested in his food than in her discussion. Bink knew that was deceptive. Humfrey paid close attention to all things magic.

"If you are-if any of you have strong magic-I must caution you to be extremely careful in exerting it," she said. "Please do not misunderstand; this is no threat. We do not want you to feel at all uncomfortable here. It is simply that all magic-well, permit me to make a small demonstration." She clapped her hands, and a nymph entered, as buxom and bare as the others. "Bring a small firefly," Trolla said.

In a moment the nymph returned with the firefly. It was very small-the kind that generated hardly more than a spark, harmless. It squatted on the table, rather pretty with its folded flame-hued wings and insulated legs. "Now observe what happens when I frighten it," Trolla said.

She rapped the table with a hooflike knuckle. The firefly jumped up, startled, and generated its momentary fire. A burst of light and heat emanated from it, and a ball of smoke roiled up toward the ceiling. A spot on the table a handsbreadth in diameter was charred. The firefly itself had disappeared. "It burned itself up!" Chester exclaimed. "It did not mean to," Trolla said. "This was a normal Xanth firefly, not acclimatized to this region. Here near the source its magic is multiplied a hundredfold. Thus its little spark became a self-immolating fireball. Until you males become acclimatized, I urge you not to practice your magic in this village. We value your presence, and do not wish you to suffer any mishaps."