Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician Page 11

  way down to the mattress. The covers came away

  with a yank.

  "Well, shit," he muttered, swinging the torch to

  inspect the rest of the room. No sign of the otter

  sprawled unconscious on the floor. Nor was he asleep

  in the bathroom, or in the hall corridor outside.

  No one bothered him as he stood thinking furiously

  in the passageway. Could the reluctant water rat have

  run out on him this early in their journey? Knowing

  93

  Alan Dean Foster

  94

  Mudge, that kind of desertion couldn't be ruled out.

  Or was he off somewhere within the subterranean

  town, carousing with newfound buddies or gambling

  his shorts away?

  Tough. He should've stayed with his companion.

  Anyway, the otter was a superb tracker. Jon-Tpm was

  willing to bet he could find a vanished friend with

  ease. Let him stay behind if he wanted to and do his

  own explaining. What Jon-Tom had in mind was

  bigger than either of them, something that should

  have been done in this part of the world a long time

  ago. Fortunate chance had given him the opportuni-

  ty to correct a monstrously maintained wrong.

  In the darkness he struggled to retrace his steps.

  Down a hall, and sure enough, there off to the left

  was the dimly lit and now-deserted officers' mess.

  The dishes had been cleared from the long tables.

  Lingering embers still glowed and popped in the

  three fireplaces, sending smoke up to the surface

  world above. Not a soul in sight.

  He tiptoed across the floor between two of the

  tables until he stood before the central fireplace.

  None of the locals could reach the mantel, but it was

  an easy stretch for him. The Mulmun was heavier

  than it looked.

  Back quickly out to the hall, and then he was

  running at a steady pace up an ever-ascending slope,

  the Mulmun tied to his belt and concealed by his

  flapping green cape.

  There were sentries on night duty, a pair of wide-

  eyed and fully awake gophers. They recognized the

  guest.

  "Evemn', sor," said one courteously. "You're bein'

  up kind o' late for a day-dweller."

  Jon-Tom tried to bend to his right to hide the

  bulge at his waist. "Can't sleep."

  TVS MOMENT OF THK SSAOICtAS

  95

  **A sensible attitude," commented the other guard

  approvingly.

  "Thought I'd go for a walk." How convenient, he

  thought, that the voluminous cape also hid his

  backpack. Its presence wouldn't square with a brief

  evening stroll.

  The guards weren't in the least suspicious, however.

  Jen-Tom backed around them, smiling brightly. "Just

  a quick little look around. Got to be back early to

  wake my friend."

  The sentries exchanged a glance. "That's funny,

  sor. Your companion went off toward the springs

  "bout an hour or so ago."

  "What? My friend? Are you sure?"

  "No otters livin' in Faulty" said the first sentry.

  "Had to have been him, right?"

  **I guess so. Yes, it must've been him. That's certain-

  ly interesting. The sly little cuss neglected to mention

  it to me. I will have to remonstrate with him, yes

  indeedy. 1 know. I'll bet he went for a moonlit swim.

  Sure, that's it."

  "He didn't say anything to you?" Suddenly the

  second sentry seemed more than casually curious.

  "That is odd."

  "Oh, no, no, not really," Jon-Tom assured him as

  he continued backing toward the exit, now tantalizingly

  near. "He does things like this all the time."

  "Funny time o' night for a day-dweller to be takin*

  a bath," the guard went on.

  *'You know these water rats." Jon-Tom's smile was

  frozen in place- "So damned unpredictable." He turned

  2nd Jogged out onto the surface, leaving the puzzled

  Sentries conversing noisily behind him-

  Once out of sight he increased his pace to a run.

  Puzzled guards could be dangerous guards, especial-

  ly if their curiosity matched their confusion.

  More important, what the hell was the otter doing

  Alan Dean Foster

  96

  at the springs in the middle of the night, and why

  didn't he see fit to tell his traveling companion about

  his plans for a nocturnal excursion? It didn't make

  any sense, which meant it was perfectly in character

  for Mudge. He paused only briefly to catch his

  breath and rede the awkward burden of the Mulmun.

  It was certainly a lovely night for a swim. The

  moon was high, and pale silver light bathed the

  boulders and rising mist. Of the otter there was no

  sign, and the only sounds came from the bubbling,

  hissing springs.

  Or was there something else? It rose and fell, but

  it didn't sound like water bubbling or steam venting.

  It issued from behind a cluster of granite spires.

  Jon-Tom approached them cautiously- The sounds

  were familiar and yet alien. Invading Wittens, perhaps,

  scouting out the terrain in preparation for next

  month's carnage.

  He peered over the top of the rocks. It was Mudge,

  all right. Only, he wasn't alone. Jon-Tom thought he

  recognized the prairie dog lady who'd been serving

  them during the ceremonial meal. Coquettish little

  sprite. She was being anything but coquettish at the

  moment, however. Mudge was moaning softly and

  she was emitting a rapid sequence of high-pitched

  squeaks and bleats. Some were undoubtedly too high-

  pitched for Jon-Tom's human hearing, but he got

  the idea fast enough. They weren't talking about the

  weather. Matter of fact, they weren't talking at all.

  "Mudge!" he whispered.

  "Wot the bloody 'ell is that?" The otter withdrew,

  only to lose his footing on the round scones and

  stumble head over heels. His paramour scrambled in

  the direction of her clothing.

  The otter's sharp eyes quickly found Jon-Tom

  staring down at him from atop the ring of boulders.

  He let out a tremulous sigh.

  THE MOMENT OF THB MAGJCUJV

  97

  "Bless me bottom, mate, 'tis only you. Wot are you

  tryin' to do. give me 'eart failure?"

  "No" Jon-Tom wondered why he was still whispering.

  The little lady cowered off in a corner. "Get dressed.

  We're getting out of here."

  Mudge shifted rapidly from relieved to startled.

  **Wot, now?" He began gathering up his clothes and

  weapons. "Ain't you got no sensitivity at all, mate?"

  "I'm sorry, 1 didn't know. If you'd bothered to tell

  me your plans for the evening..."

  '.,/ **... You'd've tried to talk me out of 'cm, guv'nor. I

  know you. Wot's the bleedin' 'urry, is wot I wants to

  linow?"

  : "Mudge, I saw these people fight today, brother

  against brother, more or less. I listened to their talk

  Cgnd learned their sordid local history. What we've

  ^fyot
here are a bunch of people so immersed in an

  .ingoing bad habit they haven't the foggiest notion of

  :how to cure themselves of it."

  ; "Your pardon, mate," said the otter as he slipped

  ,;into his shorts, "but wot we 'ave 'ere is a bunch of

  ^people who are perfectly 'appy with their lives just as

  they are."

  "That's because they can't break out of this cycle

  they've slipped into. Mudge, there's plenty of hot

  water in these springs, more than enough to supply

  all the needs of both towns. It's not like they're

  Fighting over a limited resource."

  "Jon-lbm, I'm beginning to think that your brains

  are a limited resource, wot? If they 'aven't been able

  to make a peace stick between them for 'undreds of

  years now, wot makes you think you can suddenly up

  and create one?"

  Jon-lbm grinned at him, fumbled beneath his

  cape. "Because as a third party, there was nothing to

  stop me from taking this."

  98 Alan Dean roater

  The lady inhaled sharply at the sight of the re-

  vered Mulmun.

  "This isn't a symbol of the springs or of communal

  contentment," Jon-Tbm told him in an angry whisper,

  "but of stubbornness and calcification in the body

  politic. Now that we've taken it, they won't have a

  symbol, a totem, to fight for. They'll have to make

  peace."

  The otter said nothing for a long time, just stared

  at his patently insane companion out of wide,

  disbelieving eyes.

  "You pinched their Mulmunk, or whatever the 'ell

  they call the bloody monstrosity. You pinched it."

  "Exactly," Jon-Tom said smugly.

  "Oh, mate, 'ow I do wish you'd talk with poor oF

  Mudge before embarkin' on these pet projects of

  yours."

  "They went this way, sor," said a not-distant-enough

  voice. One of the guards from the entrance to Fault.

  The next voice they heard was also familiar. It

  belonged to General Pocknet.

  And he wasn't alone.

  "Come on!" Jon-Tom turned and raced for the

  causeway that crossed the springs.

  "Later, luv," said Mudge hurriedly, bestowing a

  brief, parting nose-rub on his betrayed lover. Then

  he was flying over the rocks in pursuit of his certifi-

  able companion.

  Armed prairie dogs, some only half-clad, others

  wearing odd bits and pieces of armor, soon appeared

  in their wake. They were squeaking bloodcurdling

  threats and waving swords and spears over their

  heads.

  "Wait, listen!" Jon-Tom held the Mulmun in both

  hands, raised it over his head. "Give me a chance to

  explain!"

  "Shut up, mate!" Mudge snapped, trying to in-

  THE MOMEMT OF THE MAOICUW

  99

  crease his short stride and secure his vest simul-

  taneously. He prayed he wouldn't stumble in his

  hastily donned boots. "You can't talk to this lot"

  "I have tol I'm sure once they hear what I have to

  say, they'll see that I'm only doing this for their

  benefit, so that they and their neighbors can begin to

  five together in peace and harmony."

  "Snakeshit! I'm telling you they won't listen to

  you"

  "They'll have to. I've got the Mulmun"

  "Well, 'tis not just that which I fear disinclines

  them to sweet reasonableness, mate." Mudge looked

  Suddenly uncomfortable. "See, that sweet little

  powderpuff I was dallyin' with back there amongst

  die mists 'appens to be the good general's daughter."

  "Mudge! How could you? After all the hospitality

  they showed us, the food and the room and—"

  "Don't get sanctimonious on me, you naked baboon,"

  Mudge snapped up at him. "You're the one who

  atole their fuckin' symbol. If you'd been decent enough

  to 'ave let me in on your private reformation, maybe

  we wouldn't be in this little fix."

  "And if you'd told me about yours..."

  "You'd 'ave wot, mate? 'Ave concurred in and

  blessed the assignation? Not bloody likclyl Corl" He

  pointed ahead. "Too late, they've gone and cut us

  off. We're finished. That's about right, it is. Me ardor

  gets cooled before me body's t' get boiled."

  "Wait, won't you listen? Listen to me!" Jon-Tom

  waved the Mulmun, prompting a roar of outrage

  from their pursuers.

  , **That*s it, mate," said Mudge sarcastically, "stir 'cm

  up good. We wouldn't want to put 'em in a position

  to grant us mercy or nothin' like that."

  "We're not done for yet. Look!" He nodded ahead.

  "Troops from Witten. Their sentries must have heard

  the noise and sent for reinforcements "

  Alan Dean Foster

  100

  "Snatched from the jaws o* death at the last instant."

  said Mudge, relieved. "You cut it too close for com-

  fort sometimes, mate- We 'ave their bloomin' symbol.

  We'll be treated like 'eroes in Witten, we will.

  Mate... where are you goin'?"

  Jon-Tom had turned right. Instead of running

  toward the succor and safety offered by the Witten

  soldiery, which quickly forced its way across the

  causeway, the spellsinger was racing up a side path

  that led to the top of the highest hill in sight. They

  climbed as they ran, leaping boiling waterfalls and

  mudpots. Wittens and Paultines glared at each other

  in the darkness, but they were too busy to fight one

  another now. Besides, it wasn't the first of the month.

  "Mate, slow down, wot are you doin'?" Mudge was

  trying to comprehend his friend's seemingly wild,

  random flight while keeping an eye on their pursuit.

  "We can't-outrun 'em all. Turn it over to the Wittens

  and we'll be bloomin' 'eroes. Or give it back to the

  ruddy Paultines, but do something with that ceramic

  abomination!"

  "I intend to, Mudge," said Jon-Tom grimly. "That's

  why I stole it. I'm going to use it to show both groups

  the error of their ways."

  "We'll be feelin' the arrows o' their ways in a

  minute. I don't know why they 'aven't tried to bring

  us down already."

  "They're afraid I'll drop the Mulmun," Jon-Tom

  told him-

  "Right." Mudge relaxed a little. "I 'adn't thought o*

  that. That ghastly thing's our insurance, wot?"

  The slope increased just ahead. Water vented from

  a cleft in the modest cliff. Jon-Tom started climbing

  with Mudge right behind him.

  By the time they reached the top the opposing

  soldiery had reached the base. Wittens and Paultines

  eyed one another by the light of their torches, unde-

  THB MOMSJVT Or THE MACUCSAN

  101

  cided how to react to this unprecedented situation.

  Some wanted to fight, but for what? For the first

  time in memory, the all-important Mulmun rested in

  the hands of an outsider.

  "Now, you listen to me, all of you!" Jon-Tom held

  the sculpture over his head. The significance of the

  gesture was not lost on his pursuers.
In an instant,

  he had absolute quiet save for the hiss of water and

  the crackle of torches.

  "I know what this is and what it stands for. So do

  all of you, or rather, you think you do. You believe it

  stands for honor and dignity and victory in battle.

  You're wrong. It doesn't stand for a damn one of

  those things. Where I come from we've had to deal

  with this kind of internecine stupidity a little longer

  than you have, and I think we've learned a few

  things about peace and about the futility of war."

  "Give it back to us!" shouted a voice from the

  crowd of Paultines- It was General Pocknet. "Give it

  back to us and we'll let you depart with your genitals,

  man! As for that one"—and he gestured toward

  Mudge—"him I want!"

  The otter made an obscene gesture in the general's

  direction, concealing himself as he did so behind

  Jon-Tom's bulk.

  "No, give it over to us!" shouted the leader of the

  Wittens. "Give it to us and you can name your

  reward, man. You can wipe out the memory of six

  months of shame for us."

  "I'll win the day for no group," Jon-Tom held the

  Mulmun firmly in one hand and used the other to

  encompass the valley of the springs in a single sweep-

  tog gesture.

  there's enough warmth and water here for all to

  enjoy. There's no need to go through this mad

  bloodletdng once a month. At heart I believe all of

  you are good, but you've been suffering from a

  Alan Dean Foster

  102

  communal illness for a long time, so long that you've

  no idea how to treat it. Well, I do, and I'm going to

  cure the lot of you right now."

  A collective gasp and not a few screams came from

  the mass of fighters gathered at the base of the cliff

  as Jon-Tom drew back his right arm and heaved the

  Mulmun as far out into the night as he could. One of

  the screams came from Mudge.

  Every face turned to follow the Mulmun's descent.

  It seemed to fall in slow motion, turning over several

  times in the moonlight. It landed on an outjutting

  rocky snag in the center of a large hot pool and

  shattered noisily. The pieces disappeared instantly

  beneath the superheated surface.

  "Therel" Jon-Tom put his hands on his hips and

  glared down at them. "See how easy that was? Aren't

  you ail ashamed? Now you can shake hands with

  your neighbors for the First time in years. Do you

  realize what this means? It means that yesterday was

  the last day any of you had to die for the use of the