"You are thinking too small," Iris said, leaning forward earnestly and inhaling deeply. Bink felt the flush rising along his neck. Sabrina seemed very far away-and she would never have dressed like this, anyway.
"I told you-I have to go to the Good Magician Humfrey to find my magic--or be exiled. I don't really think I have any magic, so--"
"I could arrange for you to stay, regardless," she said, nudging closer.
She was definitely making a play for him. But why would such an intelligent, talented woman be interested in a nobody like him? Bink mopped his nose again. A nobody with a cold. Her appearance might be greatly enhanced by illusion, but mind and talent were obviously genuine. She should have no need of him-for anything.
"You could perform magic that everyone would see," she continued in that dismayingly persuasive way of hers, nudging up against him. She certainly felt real-most provocatively so. "I could fashion an illusion of performance that no one could penetrate." He wished she hadn't said that while touching him so intimately. "I can do my magic from a distance, too, so there would be no way to tell I was involved. But that is the least of it. I can bring you wealth and power and comfort-all genuine, nonillusive. I can give you beauty and love. All that you might desire as a citizen of Xanth--"
Bink grew more suspicious. What was she leading up to? "I have a fianc e-"
"Even that," Iris agreed. "I am not a jealous woman. You could have her as a concubine, provided you were circumspect."
"As a concubine!" Bink exploded.
She was unshaken. "Because you would be married to me."
Bink stared at her, aghast. "Why should you want to marry a man with no magic?"
"So I could be Queen of Xanth," she said evenly.
"Queen of Xanth! You'd have to marry the King."
"Precisely."
"But-"
"One of the quaint, archaic laws and customs of Xanth is that the nominal ruler must be male. Thus some perfectly capable magical females have been eliminated from consideration. Now the present King is old, senile, and without heir; it is time for a Queen. But first there must be a new King. That King could be you."
"Me! I have no knowledge of governing."
"Yes. You would naturally leave the dull details of government to me."
Now at last it was coming clear. Iris wanted power. All she needed was a suitable figurehead, to get herself installed. One sufficiently talentless and naive to be readily managed. So he would never get delusions of actually being King. If he cooperated with her, he would be dependent on her. But it was a fair offer. It provided a viable alternative to exile, regardless of the state of his own magic.
This was the first time he had seen his magic infirmity as a potential asset. Iris did not want an independent man or legitimate citizen; she would have no lasting hold on that kind of person. She needed a magic cripple like him-because without her he would be nothing, not even a citizen.
That diminished the romantic aspect considerably. Reality always did seem to be less enticing than illusion. Yet his alternative was to plunge back into the wilderness on a mission he suspected was futile. His luck was already considerably overextended; his chances of even making it as far as the castle of the Magician Humfrey were not ideal, since he now had to trek through the fringe of the central wilderness. He would be a fool not to accept the offer of the Sorceress.
Iris was watching him intently. As he looked back at her, her gown flickered, becoming transparent. Illusion or not, it was a breathtaking sight. And what difference did it make if the flesh only seemed real? He had no doubt now of what she was offering on the immediate, personal level. She would be glad to prove how good she could make it, as she had with the meal. Because she needed his willing cooperation.
Really, it made sense. He could have citizenship and Sabrina, since obviously the Sorceress Queen would never betray that aspect...
Sabrina. How would she feel about the arrangement? He knew. She would not buy it. Not for anything, not for an instant. Sabrina was very straitlaced about certain things, very proper in the forms.
"No," he said aloud.
Iris's gown snapped opaque. "No?" Suddenly she sounded like Wynne, when he had told that idiot gift she could not accompany him.
"I don't want to be King."
Now Iris's voice was controlled, soft. "You don't think I can do it?"
"I rather think you can. But it's not my sort of thing."
"What is your sort of thing, Bink?"
"I just want to be on my way."
"You want to be on your way," she repeated, with great control. "Why?"
"My fianc e wouldn't like it if I-"
"She wouldn't like it!" Iris was working up a substantial head of steam, like the Gap dragon. "What does she offer you that I cannot better a hundredfold?"
"Well, self-respect, for one thing," Bink said. "She wants me for myself, not to use me."
"Nonsense. All women are the same inside. They differ only in appearance and talent. They all use men."
