He bent his head again-and heard a rustle, too close. He jumped up, drew his knife, moved a few paces, and through the trees sighted an incredible thing. Two creatures were locked in combat: a griffin and a unicorn. One was male, the other female, and they were-they were not fighting, they-Bink retreated, profoundly embarrassed. They were two different species! How could they!
Disgusted, he returned to the spring. Now he noted the recent tracks of the creatures: both unicorn and griffin had come to drink here, probably within the hour. Maybe they had crossed the invisible bridge, as he had, and seen the spring, so conveniently located. So the water could hardly be poisoned-Suddenly he caught on. This was a love spring. Anyone who drank of this water would become compellingly enamored of the first creature he encountered thereafter, and-He glanced over at the griffin and unicorn. They were still at it, insatiably.
Bink backed away from the spring. If he had drunk from it-He shuddered. He was no longer remotely thirsty. "Aw, go take a drink," the harpy fluted.
Bink swept up a rock and hurled it at her. She squawked and fluttered higher, laughing coarsely. One of her droppings just missed him. There was nothing more hateful than a harpy.
Well, the Good Magician had warned him that the path home was not entirely free of problems. This spring must be one of the details Humfrey hadn't thought important enough for specific mention. Once Bink was back on the trail along which he had originally come, the hazards would be familiar, such as the peace pines-How would he get through them? He needed an enemy to travel with, and he had none.
Then he had a bright idea. "Hey you-birdbrain!" he called up into the foliage. "Stay away from me, or I'll stuff your tail down your filthy throat!"
The harpy responded with a withering torrent of abuse. What a vocabulary she had! Bink threw another rock at her. "I'm warning you-don't follow me," he cried.
"I'll follow you to the edge of the Shield itself," she screeched. "You'll never get rid of me."
Bink smiled privately. Now he had a suitable companion.
He hiked on, dodging the occasional droppings the harpy hurled at him, hoping her fury would carry her through the pines. After that-well, first things first.
Soon the path merged with the one he had taken south. Curious, he sighted along the main path both ways; it was visible north and south. He looked back the way he had just come-and there was only deep forest. He took a step back along where he knew he had passed-and found himself knee-deep in glow-briers. The weeds sparkled as they snagged on his legs, and only by maneuvering with extreme caution did he manage to extricate himself without getting scratched. The harpy laughed so hard she almost fell from her perch.
There was simply no path here, this direction. But the moment he faced about again, there it was, leading cleanly through the briers to join the main route. Ah, well-why did he even bother to question such things? Magic was magic; it had no rationale except its own. Everyone knew that. Everyone except himself, at times.
He hiked all day, passing the brook where to drink was to become a fish-"Have a drink, harpy!"-but she already knew of the enchantment, and reviled him with double fury; the peace pines- "Have a nap, harpy!"; and the trench with the nickelpedes-"I'll fetch you something to eat, harpy!'-but actually he used the repellent the Good Magician had provided, and never even saw a nickelpede.
At last he stopped at a farmhouse in the centaur territory for the night. The harpy finally gave up her chase; she dared not come within range of a centaur bow. These were older centaurs, unaggressive, interested in the news of the day. They listened avidly to the narration of his experiences across the chasm and considered this to suffice for his room and board. Their grandchild colt was staying with them, a happy-go-lucky prancing tyke of barely twenty-five years--Bink's age, but equivalent to a quarter that in human terms. Bink played with him and did handstands for him; that was a trick no centaur could do, and the colt was fascinated.
Next day he traveled north again, and there was no sign of the harpy. What a relief; he would almost have preferred to risk the peace pines alone. His ears felt indelibly soiled after the day of her expletives. He passed through the remainder of the centaur area without encountering anyone. As evening approached, he reached the North Village.
"Hey! The Spell-less Wonder is back," Zink cried. A hole appeared at Bink's feet, causing him to stumble involuntarily. Zink would have made a wonderful companion for the pines. Bink ignored the other holes and proceeded toward his house. He was back, all right. Why had he bothered to hurry?
