Piers Anthony - The Source of Magic

"But the piles of dirt-"

"I had forgotten about that," Chester said. "I should have recognized the castings before. They eject the dirt from their tunnels behind them, and where they touch the surface it forms into a pile. As they tunnel on, the further castings plug up the hole, so there is nothing left except the pile."

"But what do they do?"

"They move about, make piles of earth. That's all."

"But why are they following me? I have nothing to do with squiggles."

"Could be coincidence," Humfrey said. He addressed the mirror. "Is it?"

The mirror's unhappy baby face showed.

"Someone or something is setting the squiggle to spy on us, then," Humfrey said, and the mirror smiled. "The question is, who?"

The mirror turned dark. "The same as the source of magic?" Humfrey demanded. The mirror denied it. "Bink's enemy, then?" And the smiling baby returned.

"Not the same as the fiends of the lake?" Bink asked.

The baby smiled.

"You mean it is the same?"

"Don't confuse the mirror with your illogic," the Magician snapped. "It agreed it was not the same!"

"Uh, yes," Bink said. "Still, if our route takes us past the fiends, we have a problem. With the enemy spying on us all the way, and throwing obstacles in our way, he's sure to excite the fiends into something dire."

"I believe you are correct," Humfrey said. "It may be time for me to expend some more of my magic."

"Glory be!" Chester exclaimed ironically.

"Quiet, horserear!" Humfrey snapped. "Now let me see. Do we have to pass the fiends of the lake to reach our destination?" The mirror smiled.

"And the fiends have curse-magic sufficient to blast forests?"

The mirror agreed.

"What's the most convenient way to pass without trouble?"

The mirror showed a picture of Bink watching a play.

Humfrey looked up. "Can any of you make sense of this?"

Crombie squawked. "Where am I?" Grundy translated.

"Let me rephrase that question," Humfrey said quickly. "Where is Crombie while Bink is watching the play?"

The mirror showed one of the Magician's vials. The griffin went into an angry medley of squawks. "Oh come off it, beakbrain!" the golem said. "You know I can't repeat words like that in public. Not if I want to become real."

"Beakbrain's concern is understandable," Chester said. "Why should he be banished to a bottle? He might never get out."

"I'm supposed to do the translations!" Grundy complained, forgetting his prior reluctance.

Humfrey put away the mirror. "If you won't pay attention to my advice," he informed Crombie, "then do it your own way."

"You temperamental real people are at it again," Grundy said. "The rational thing to do is listen to the advice, consider the alternatives, discuss them, and form a consensus."

"The little imp is making uncommon sense," Chester said.

"Which little imp?" Grundy demanded.

"I suspect," the Magician said grimly, "that the garrulous golem would be best off in a bottle."

"We're fighting again," Bink said. "If the mirror says we can pass the fiends most conveniently' by traveling in bottles, I'd rather gamble on that than on the sort of thing we've just been through."

"You don't have to gamble," Grundy pointed out. "You have to go watch a dumb play."

"I have faith in my mirror," Humfrey said, and the mirror blushed so brightly there was a faint glow through his jacket. "To prove it, I will submit to bottling myself. I believe the one Beauregard used is pleasantly upholstered and huge enough for two. Suppose Crombie and Grundy and I enter that bottle and give it to Bink to carry? Then he can ride Chester to the play."

"I'm willing," Bink said. He wondered privately whether the Good Magician would take all his other bottles with him into the bottle. That seemed a bit paradoxical, but no doubt was possible. "But I don't know exactly where the fiends are, and I'd rather not barge in on them unexpectedly. If we approach carefully, circumspectly, they may be less fiendish."

Crombie pointed to the lake.

"Yes, I know. But where at the lake? At the edge? On an island? I mean, before I innocently walk into a tree-blasting curse-"

Crombie squawked and spread his wings. His proud colors flashed as he flew up and made for the lake.

"Wait, featherbrain!" Chester cried. "They'll see you by air! That will give us all away!" But the griffin ignored him.

They watched Crombie wing handsomely out over the water, his plumage flexing red, blue, and white. "I have to admit the ornery cuss is a beautiful animal," Chester murmured.

Then the griffin folded his wings and plummeted toward the surface of the lake, spinning in the air. "A curse!" Bink cried. "They shot him down with a curse!"

But then the figure straightened out, regained altitude, and winged back. Crombie seemed to be all right.

"What happened?" Bink demanded as the griffin landed. "Was it a curse?"

"Squawk!" Crombie replied. Grundy translated: "What curse? I merely did my turnabout to get a closer fix on the fiends. They reside under the water."

"Under the water!" Bink cried. "How can we go there?"

Humfrey brought out another vial and handed it to Bink. "These pills will do the trick. Take one every two hours while submerged. It will-"

"There's a mound starting!" Chester cried. "A spy!"

Humfrey whipped out yet another vial, uncorked it, and aimed it at the upwelling dirt A jet of vapor shot out, striking the mound. Crystals of ice formed. The mound froze.

"Fire extinguisher," the Magician explained. "Very cold. That squiggle is frozen stiff in its tunnel."

"Let me kill it while I can catch it!" Chester said eagerly.

"Wait!" Bink said. "How long will the freeze last?"

"Only a couple of minutes," Humfrey said. "Then the squiggle will resume activity with no impairment"

"And no memory of the missing minutes?" Bink asked.

"It should not be aware of the lapse. Squiggles aren't very smart."

"Then don't kill it! Get out of its observation. It will be convinced this was a false alarm, that we were never here. It will so report to its master, throwing the enemy off the track."

The Magician's brow lifted. "Very intelligent, Bink. You are thinking more like a leader now. We shall hide in the bottle, and you and Chester can carry it with you. Quickly, before the freeze abates."

The griffin remained uncertain, but acquiesced. The Magician set the vial, performed his incantation, and man, griffin, and golem vanished.

"Grab the bottle, get on my back, hang on!" Chester cried. "Time's almost up!"

Bink snatched up the lone vial remaining, jumped on Chester's back, and hung on. The centaur took off. In a moment his hooves were splashing through the shallow water. "Gimme a pill!" Chester cried.

Bink fumbled out a pill from the bottle, praying he would not spill the works as he bounced around. He popped one into his mouth and handed the other forward to Chester's raised hand. "I hope these work!" he cried.

"That's all we need-another wrong bottle!" Chester exclaimed. "Gobble a foaming insulation pill…"

Bink wished the centaur hadn't thought of that. Insulation, or freezing extinguisher-ouch!

He glanced back. Was it his imagination, or was the dirt mound growing again? Had they gotten away in time? Suppose the squiggle saw their footprints?

Then Chester hit a drop-off, and they plunged underwater. Bink choked involuntarily as the liquid covered his mouth-but the water was just like air to his breathing. In fact, it was like air to his whole body, except for its color. They could breathe!

This experience reminded him of something. In a moment he had it: the Queen's anniversary party! That had been illusory underwater scenery, while this was genuine. Unfortunately, the Queen's version had been prettier. Here things were murky and dull.