Chorus Skating

by Alan Dean Foster

  Ignoring him, she indicated the ornate ring which jangled on Naike’s wrist. “You have the keys to the other chambers. It will take only moments to free my sisters in isolation.”

  “Maybe,” admitted Pauko, “but a larger party of escapees will be easier to detect.”

  “Already we are seven,” she argued. “What matters a few more?”

  “What indeed,” Naike groused.

  “Do I command you or not?” she snapped.

  Placing his right arm across his chest, the Lieutenant bowed low. “We who serve are here to do your bidding, Highness.”

  “Speak for yourself, guv.” Turning to leave, Mudge found himself held back by a heavy human hand.

  “Mudge, we can’t just abandon them now.”

  “Oi, can’t we, then?” The otter eyed him coolly. “Just watch me.”

  “Going to find your own way out?” Jon-Tom inquired calmly.

  At the door the otter paused with one hand on the handle. Then he turned and waved an angry finger at his friend. “’Ere now, if I didn’t think you’d get your bloody overbearin’ self killed after all these years, I bloody well would take off on me own!”

  “Of course you would.” Jon-Tom suppressed a smile. “I know that I wouldn’t have a chance out there without you to watch over me.”

  “Well, as long as you know that,” said the otter huffily. He stepped aside to let Naike and the Princess pass.

  The rotunda was still deserted save for the two somnolent attendants, who rested upright in their chairs like a pair of soft sculptures. Around them, the compound still slept. Of particular note, no outraged trumpeting reverberated from a distant, isolated corridor.

  Still safe, Jon-Tom assured himself as he wondered how much longer the stupid spell (as it were) would hold.

  The portal next to Aleaukauna’s yielded to another of the ornate keys on Naike’s ring. She pushed past him, whispering urgently into the moonlit interior. From out in the rotunda Jon-Tom could see that the chamber closely resembled the one that had been home and cell to the Princess.

  “Umagi! It’s Aleaukauna. Rouse yourself. From Harakun have come brave ones to free us!”

  “Really?” The voice was quite deep, Jon-Tom thought, but still distinctively feminine. “It’s about time. I wish I could speak as well for my own ineffectual followers.”

  There was a blur of activity within. Then the Princess and Naike stepped back, trailed by a massive shape draped in yellow and black suede.

  Princess Umagi of Tuuro Exalted was a very graceful, very imposing, and very large mountain gorilla. Jon-Tom estimated her weight at between three hundred and four hundred pounds (it was hard to be any more precise because nearly everything was concealed beneath the flowing suede). Resting on massive feet and one set of knuckles, she used her other hand to brush back the tail of the black and silver scarf she had tied around her forehead. A matching, transparent veil masked her face.

  Jon-Tom found himself thinking not about her, but about Manzai. Then he leaned over to whisper to Mudge.

  “Well?”

  “Well, wot, mate?”

  “Aren’t you going to be polite and kiss her hand?”

  “Ain’t sure I could lift it, mate. Why don’t you give it a go?”

  Jon-Tom straightened. “I’ll stick with a simple hello, as always.”

  Princess Umagi hugged Aleaukauna, the mongoose all but vanishing within the expansive simian embrace. “The others?” the she-gorilla inquired.

  Aleaukauna nodded emphatically. “Each in their turn. We’ll leave no one here for our captor to toy with.”

  From the next cell they liberated Quiquell of Opan, a silky anteater fluid of form and tongue. That extraordinary organ bestowed a grateful lick upon each of the rescuers in turn, wrapping entirely around a startled Jon-Tom’s face before the tip eventually touched him on the lips. It was, he reflected somewhat dazedly, a kiss of thanks like no other.

  In contrast, her voice was whispery and barely audible—a reflection of the extremely narrow physiognomy from which it emerged.

  “Half done,” announced Aleaukauna briskly as they moved along.

  Who next? Jon-Tom found himself wondering. Or rather, what next? One of the attendants let out a snuffle and he turned sharply in the sleeping raccoons’ direction. How much longer could the rescuers count on passing unnoticed? It struck him that they were playing their luck for all it was worth.

  From the next chamber they freed Seshenshe of Paressi Glissar, a lynx of fine form and grand manner. She was effusive in her thanks, giving Jon-Tom a nervous moment to admire the whitest, sharpest teeth he had ever seen so near to his own.

  This won’t be a problem, he tried to convince himself as Naike struggled with the lock to the next cell. Everything’s under control.

  Then the Lieutenant shoved aside the barrier to liberate the next princess, and the spellsinger’s control went as shaky as his legs.

  Chapter 9

  ANSIBETTE OF BOROBOS had hair the shade of imperial topaz and eyes of translucent lapis. Six feet tall, she seemed formed from what at first glance appeared to be an unholy amalgam of taffy and marble. There was entirely too much of what she was to be restrained within a single epidermal envelope, yet somehow her body succeeded in sustaining this unprecedented feat of physiological legerdemain.

  She was, if anything, more than human. Her natural grace left him feeling like a beached sturgeon.

  Mudge eyed his friend appraisingly. “Tch—utter loss o’ the critical faculties. Note the vacant expression, the slack jaw, the limp upper limbs.” He jabbed his friend sharply in the ribs.

  Jon-Tom blinked angrily. “What was that for?”

  “Sorry, mate, but you were forgettin’ to breathe.” He rubbed his paws together. “One more to go an’ then we’re out o’ this gilded cesspool. That is, if you can get your legs to work.”

  Princess Ansibette’s voice was a duet for harp and celesta.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you all for your bravery and courage!” Like her royal sisters, she advanced to individually praise her rescuers. Unable to move, Jon-Tom awaited what was to come.

  She took his hand and shook it firmly before moving on to likewise acknowledge Mudge and the others.

  It broke the spell and enabled him to move, though his head threatened to twist completely around atop his shoulders.

  “She’s just another damn spoiled royal,” the otter reminded him. “One more we’ll ’ave to baby-sit until we’re clear o’ this dump.”

  “Right.” Jon-Tom managed to mumble. “Just another ex-prisoner. Or ex-collectible.” It was easier to think about Manzai than about… than about…

  He pressed on, resolutely struggling to keep his eyes to himself.

  “’Onestly.” Mudge murmured his disapproval. “’Umans!”

  “One last chamber, and then all are freed and we can be off.” Aleaukauna did her best to hurry Naike along.

  Her urging was superfluous. Even as she spoke, the Lieutenant was turning the key in the lock. Awakened by all the activity, Pivver of Trenkuhan was already dressed and waiting for them.

  She was smaller than the princesses Ansibette and Umagi, but as tall as Aleaukauna. Perfectly groomed deep brown fur shone from beneath green and gold silks while alert eyes darted from one rescuer to the next. Legs and arms were as short as her tail, but her torso was sinuous and supple.

  She was, in short, an otter, and it was Jon-Tom’s turn to chortle.

  As Aleaukauna started off, Naike was forced to restrain her.

  “Your pardon, Highness, but we cannot flee that direction.”

  “why not?” Quiquell demanded to know.

  “Because there’s a temporarily loopy elephant blocking the way, and he’s shut up behind doors we don’t know how to open,” Jon-Tom explained. “We’ll have to find another way out.”

  “You were fortunate to get this far,” Princess Pivver declared admiringly.

  “Oi, fortunate’s our middle nam
es!” Mudge’s whiskers quivered. The otter was the only creature Jon-Tom had ever met who could strut sitting down.

  Pivver was lovely, he had to admit. For a member of the Lutrinae. As for Mudge, he was floating along a finger’s width or so above the floor. His friend, Mudge. Mudge the Flagrant, Mudge the Lecherous, Mudge the …

  You’re worrying too much, Jon-Tom admonished himself. Pivver was a royal princess. No doubt she knew how to handle rogues, even one who had participated in her rescue and to whom she might feel she owed something. Not that it was any of his business.

  This line of thought caused him to think of Talea, which made him more than a little uncomfortable every time Ansibette of Borobos crossed his line of vision.

  “Then we must try to make our escape through the kitchens.” Aleaukauna started off in the opposite direction, her short legs switching spryly back and forth. “They should be empty of servitors this time of night, and Manzai does not set a guard over his silverware and kettles.”

  Moonlight and the occasional flickering glowbulb lit their way, until they emerged into a room crowded with heavily lacquered tables and chairs. Passing silently past the empty seats, they pushed on into the kitchen itself. Sinks and soup vats glistened in the murky light.

  It was Ansibette who, taking overmuch care in where she placed her feet, neglected to pay equal attention to the rest of herself and banged into a hanging copper strainer, setting it to jangling metallically. Knocked from its hook, it clattered to the hard floor, sounding in the shattered silence like a bolt of metallic lightning.

  Everyone froze, eyes striving to pierce the darkness. Just as Jon-Tom was convinced everything was okay, a voice broke the silence.

  “What’s that? Who’s there?”

  The words were couched in sleepiness and possibly also a touch of alcohol. No one moved, no one breathed.

  But the cursed figure refused to be put off by the unresponsive silence. Stumbling slightly and clutching a half-empty bottle in one hand, the ringtail rose up from behind a large, juice-streaked cutting block and gawked in their direction.

  “I said, who’s there?”

  “Damnation!” Without hesitation Pivver headed straight for the slightly addled but now all too conscious servant. The bulky shadow of Umagi of Tuuro trailed behind.

  A puzzled smile creased the face of the squinting ringtail. “Oh, it’s you, Chamber Number One. And Number Two as well. Say, what are you doing out of your cells unescort—”

  Realization struck before Pivver could.

  “Help, help, escape, someone hel—”

  Pivver hit him low while Umagi slapped an enormous paw over his mouth and snout. An instant later the four soldiers relieved the princesses of any further responsibility. They also relieved the hapless servant of his last breath.

  Not quite in time, unfortunately.

  From the far corners of the complex voices began to call: querulous, sleepy, uncertain, but very definitely awake.

  “That’s torn it,” Mudge cursed.

  “I’m sorry,” mumbled a distraught Ansibette. “I was trying to be careful. Sometimes I just bump into things.”

  Jon-Tom was quick to comfort her. “Forget it. We’ve been incredibly lucky to make it this far without rousing someone.” Even in the near darkness her eyes flashed azure.

  “You’re very understanding.”

  A tremor somewhere between eight and nine on the body’s own seismic scale raced through him. This was a voice sweet enough, he realized, to candy a man’s soul.

  The all but forgotten cloud of chords chimed urgently at his shoulder, as if perceiving that something was amiss. He didn’t need music to urge him on. As for Mudge, the otter looked drugged. Which he was, Jon-Tom knew. The drug’s name was Pivver of Trenku.

  She was either oblivious to his attentions or else aware and ignoring him as she plotted strategy with her fellow royals and the Lieutenant.

  Aleaukauna and Seshenshe led the way down a side corridor as voices continued to grow louder all around them. The buzz of awakening servitors was nothing compared to the alarm they could expect when the body of the unlucky nocturnal imbiber was discovered. By that time they would do well to be far from the complex.

  Aleaukauna indicated a bend in the corridor. “There should be a door here leading to a loading ramp.”

  “There’d better be.” Pauko was puffing hard as he loped along.

  They needn’t have worried. As they rounded the corner, they were greeted by the sight of a large double doorway. This opened into a spacious chamber in which containers large and small were neatly sorted and stacked. At about the same time a muffled roar as of distant surf rose behind them.

  “Someone’s found the body,” Heke announced.

  “They sshouldn’t ssusspect uss immediately.” Seshenshe’s long, tufted ears were turned in the direction of the distant confusion. “After all, we’re ssuppossedly unarmed and locked up.”

  “That will gain us only a little more time. They’ll find your two sleeping attendants soon enough.” Naike was examining the doors. “Locked from the inside!”

  “Tough to get out of,” Karaukul murmured mournfully as he echoed the four-legged gardener.

  Jon-Tom prepared to compose a lock-picking spell, but Mudge roused himself from his self-induced stupor long enough to give the heavy chain and padlock the professional once-over. As it developed, neither of their services were required.

  “Pardon me.” Trailing her fragile silk headband, princess Umagi lumbered daintily on all fours over to the doorway and gripped the restraining chain in both hands. At the same time a shout sounded in the corridor they had just vacated.

  “There they are!”

  “’Ave at the rotters!” Drawing his bow and peering around the corner, Mudge put a feathered shaft in the neck of the first sentry to start toward them. This gave those coming up fast behind reason to hesitate.

  The otter barked back at his companions. “No shilly-shallyin’! I can’t ’old ’em ’ere for long!”

  “Nice shot.” Pivver had slipped up to stand just behind him.

  He beamed irresistibly. “Want to see me stick the next one with one leg crossed?”

  “Don’t stand there gawking at me, you piss-eyed idiot! Pay attention to your work!”

  Well, maybe he was resistible. Setting his jaw, he notched another arrow.

  Expecting to encounter a brace of escaped princesses and finding themselves confronted instead by an arrow-shooting otter, a quartet of halberd-wielding mongooses, and an over-large human hefting a sword longer than any of them, the recently roused guards decided to restrain themselves until reinforcements could arrive. Which, Jon-Tom sensed as he readied himself, could be presently. He yelled back over a shoulder.

  “Umagi… I mean, Your Highness! I don’t advise hanging around here much longer!”

  “Patience, man!” came the reply. It was followed a moment later by several deeply voiced but feminine profanities and then a metallic snapping sound as the chain restricting their egress came apart in the princess’s massive fists. “The way is clear!”

  “Righty-ho, ’tis time to be off.” Lowering his bow, Mudge put an arm around Pivver and hurried to join the others. She did not shake him off. Very tolerant she was, Jon-Tom reflected.

  With the princesses leading the way, the fugitives piled out onto the wooden ramp and down to the narrow road that rapidly disappeared into the surrounding greenery. The moon had gone down and the sun was threatening to put in an appearance at any moment. Behind them, lights were coming on throughout the length and breadth of the complex.

  “We must leave this road and try to conceal ourselves within the swamp,” Naike told Jon-Tom.

  The spellsinger shook his head. “There are too many of us and we’d make too much noise. Their Highnesses don’t have proper clothing or footwear. And pursuers can track us by smell.” He did not need to point out that the party of escapees reeked of expensive perfumes.

  “Where
does this road lead?” Naike inquired of their charges.

  “there is no proper road.” They had to strain to understand Quiquell’s breathy reply. “but south lies mashupro.”

  “Then we have no choice. We must hope to outrun them.”

  For a time they jogged along in silence. Despite the muggy, cloying air, Jon-Tom was surprised at how good he felt. Better than he had in years, if the truth be known. With Pivver at his side, Mudge virtually flowed along nearby, his youthful enthusiasm restored along with his energy. For the moment, at least, the thought of being sliced and diced by Manzai’s minions seemed to concern him not in the slightest.

  Observing the two otters as they strode along chatting in tandem caused Jon-Tom’s attention to shift involuntarily to the princess Ansibette. She ran easily, her long legs giving her an advantage over Umagi, Quiquell, and the others. They were also giving him fits.

  “They’re coming.” Naike tried to decide whether to keep on running or counterattack, thereby hopefully giving the princesses some time in which to put more distance between themselves and their pursuers. He put the question to his troops.

  “What about setting an ambush?” Heke suggested.

  “If we do that, some will still get past us.” The Lieutenant turned to query his charges. “How many servants and soldiers does this Manzai command?”

  “We don’t know,” Pivver told him between breaths. “I can number at least a hundred from memory.”

  “And none of uss armed.” Seshenshe was angry at herself. “We sshould have taken weaponss before departing. Knivess from the kitchen, if nothing elsse.”

  “Belabor yourself not with recriminations,” Naike told her. “We will do what we can.” He slowed and the others with him. “Conceal yourselves as best you are able in these rushes.”

  Ansibette eyed the dense, mucky growth that lined the trail with obvious distaste. “It smells of something dead in there.”

  “That’s the idea.” The Lieutenant turned back toward the now distant complex. “The rest of us will confront them briefly and then retreat into the swamp, making as much noise as we can. Hopefully they will all follow us, leaving you time to flee in relative safety. If fortune smiles on us, we will lose them in the bogs while you find a helpful wagon driver or boatman.” When Aleaukauna tried to speak, Naike forestalled her.