Spellsinger: A Spellsinger Adventure (Book One)

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Now I don’t know as that’s exactly …” Mudge’s sentence floundered like a shark in a salt lake as he detected something new and dangerous and very unsenile in the wizard’s expression. “Wot I mean to say, sor, is that naturally that’s good enough for us. The word o’ a great sorcerer like yourself, I mean.” He looked anxiously at Talea. “Ain’t it, luv?”

  “I suppose so,” she said carefully. “But why us? If you’re going to need an honor guard, or body guard, or whatever, why not seek out some more amenable to your crazy notions?”

  Clothahump replied instantly. “Because you two are already here, have already been exposed to my crazy notions, are familiar with the histories of these two,” and he indicated Flor and Jon-Tom, “and because I have no more time to waste with others, if we are to make haste toward distant Polastrindu.”

  “Now, guv’nor,” said Mudge reluctantly, “I’ve agreed I ’ave, and I’ll stick by me word, but Polastrindu? You want that we should go … do you know ’ow far, meaning no disrespect, that be, sor?”

  “Quite precisely, my good otter.”

  “It’d take months!” shouted an exasperated Talea.

  “Yes it would … if we were to travel overland. But I am not so foolish or so young as to consider such a cross-country hike. We must make speed, for while I know what is going to happen I do not know when; consequently I am ignorant of how much time we may have left to prepare. In such circumstances it is best to be stingy with what we may not possess.

  “We shall not trudge overland but instead will make our way up the River Tailaroam.”

  “Up the river?” said Talea, eyebrows raised.

  “There are ways of traveling against the current.”

  “To a certain point, Your Wonderness.” Mudge looked skeptical. “But what ’appens when we reach the rapids o’ Duggakurra? And I’ve ’eard many a tale o’ the dangers the deep parts o’ the river possess.”

  “All obstacles can be surmounted.” Clothahump spoke with confidence if not assurance. “They matter not. Obstacle or no, we must hurry on.”

  “I think I’d rather go by land after all,” said Talea.

  “I am sorry, my dear. Tailaroam’s secrets might be better concealed, but it will be the cleaner and faster route.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You’d be right at home in the water if we had any trouble.”

  “I have not spent more than occasional recreational time in the water for some years, my dear. While I may be physiologically adapted to an aquatic life, my preferences are for breathing and living in air. As just one example, scrolls do not hold up well at all beneath the water.

  “Furthermore, we have now an excellent means for making our way to the river.”

  “The L’borean riding snake.” Talea nodded thoughtfully. “Why not take it all the way to Polastrindu?”

  “Because the river will be as steady and much faster. Perhaps our young friend Jon-Tom can conjure up an equally efficient form of water travel.”

  “Conjure up?” The query came from Flores Quintera, and she looked sideways at Jon-Tom. “You mean, like magic?”

  “Yes, like magic.” He endeavored to stand a little straighter as he held out the duar. “Clothahump was casting about for an otherworldly magician to assist him with his troubles and he got me. It turns out that my singing, coupled with my playing of this instrument, coupled with something—I don’t know what—gives me the ability to work magic here.”

  “That’s very impressive,” she said in a voice that lit a fire high above his boots.

  “Yes, it would be, except that it’s kind of a shotgun effect. I fire off a song and never manage to hit exactly what I’m aiming at. I was trying for an old Dodge Charger and instead materialized the grandfather of all pythons. It turned out to be tamed to riding, though.” He smiled at her. “No need to worry about it.”

  “I’m not worried,” she replied excitedly. “I love snakes. Where is it? It’s really big enough to ride?” She was heading for the door at a respectable jog.

  Mudge was whispering to him. “Now you’ll ’ave to do better than that, mate. That’s no ordinary maiden you’ve brought t’ yourself. Now if I were you …”

  But Jon-Tom didn’t hear the rest because he was hurrying after her. Clothahump watched them, frowning.

  “I must make ready. Pog!” the wizard yelled.

  “Here, Master.” The bat moved tiredly to hover over the workbench, knowing what would be expected of him. Together they began assembling several large piles of potions and powders: a traveling sorcerer’s work kit.

  “Now ’ow did we get ourselves roped into this, luv?”

  Talea looked across at the otter. “Don’t trouble your furry noggin about it. We’re committed. You agreed yourself.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said softly, looking back to see if Clothahump was paying them any attention. He was not. “But it were only to keep the old bugger-nut from puttin’ a spell on me. Then I’d never ’ave a chance to slip away when the proper time comes.”

  “It’s better that we go,” she told him. “I’ve been thinking, Mudge. If a wizard as great as Clothahump says that the danger is so great, then we must help fight it if we can.”

  “I don’t think you follow me thoughts, luv. This wizard Clothahump, ’e’s a brilliant one, all right. But ’e ’as lapses, if you know wot I mean.” He tapped his head with one furry fist.

  “You’re saying he’s senile.”

  “Not all the time, no. But ’e is two ’undred and ought odd years old. Even for a wizard o’ the hard-shell, that’s gettin’ on a bit, wot? I’m a thinkin’ ’e’s overexaggeratin’ this ’ere Plated danger.”

  “Sorry, Mudge, I don’t agree with you. I’ve seen and heard enough to convince me he’s more sane than senile. Besides,” she added with a disdainful air, “he was right in that we have no immediate prospects. In fact, it would do us good to get out of this area for a while. He’ll pay us to do that. So we’re doing right if he’s mad and right if he’s not.”

  Mudge looked resigned. “Maybe so, luv. Maybe so. Though I wish ’e’d been a bit more specific in spellin’ out just wot ’e meant by ‘worth our while.’”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sorcerers ’ave the use o’ words that you and I ain’t privy to, luv. So it stands t’ reason they could be more subtle when it comes t’ the employin’ o’ more familiar ones.”

  “Mudge! Are you saying he lied to us?”

  “No. ’E couldn’t do that, not and keep ’is wizardry powers. But there be direct truth and then there be spiral truth, as me sainted mother used t’ tell me.”

  “You had a mother?”

  He took a playful swipe at her with a paw and she stepped lithely out of reach. “I always did think a lot o’ you, luv. If you only ’ad a bit more body fur, at least on your chest, say.”

  “No thanks.” She edged toward the door. “We’d better go see how the others are making out.”

  They started down the hallway. “I’m not worried much about the giantess,” Mudge was saying, “but our friend Jon-Tom still displays pangs o’ loneliness. I worry that the appearance o’ the girl from ’is ’ome may do him more ’arm than good, seein’ as how besotted ’e is on her.”

  “Besotted?” Talea studied the walls. “You think so?”

  They had almost reached the doorway. “’Tis in the lad’s voice, in ’is manner and look. I’ve dodged traps that were better ’idden. But I don’t think ’e’ll ’ave much luck with this one. She’s cheery enough, but I ’ave a ’unch ’er true love’s reserved for ’er new sword. She strikes me a proper mate for a wolverine, not our Jon-Tom.”

  “I don’t think he’s besotted,” Talea murmured. “A boyish attraction, certainly.”

  “And that be somethin’ else. ’E may act boyish, but in a fight ’e’s all right. Remember ’is magic, and they also say that those who can draw the gneechees in the numbers ’e can may ’ave greater powers locked wi
thin ’em than even they can imagine.”

  “He’s already admitted he doesn’t know much about his own magical capabilities,” she replied. “I don’t think they’re so much greater than what we’ve seen.”

  “We’re likely to find out on this bug-brained journey.”

  The riding snake would have carried the extra load with ease, but they had only four saddles. They were fashioned of the finest hides and specially worked in far-off Malderpot by the warmland’s most skilled leatherworkers.

  “Two of us will have to double up,” said Clothahump, voicing the obvious as the last of their baggage was secured to the snake’s lengthy back. “At least Pog does not present a problem.”

  “Thank the Design!” agreed the bat, fluttering overhead and adjusting his body and back pouches. “It going to be hard enough ta slow down ta keep up wid ya.”

  “Jon-Tom and Flor must have saddles to themselves,” the wizard pointed out, “they being simultaneously the largest and least experienced of us. Perhaps the two of you … ?” He gestured at Talea and Mudge.

  “Oh no.” She shook her head negatively. “I’m not riding with him.” Mudge looked hurt.

  “In that case,” Clothahump bowed as best he could, considering his short legs and weighty front, “you may join me.”

  “Fine.”

  “Cor, now, Talea me luv… .”

  “Get to your own saddle, you mange-mouthed mucker. D’you honestly think I’d let you sit that close to me?”

  “Talea sweets, you ’ave poor Mudge all wrong.”

  “Sure I do.” She mounted the lead saddle, spoke down to Clothahump. “You can ride behind me. I trust your hands, and we’ve a shell between us.”

  “I can assure you, my dear,” said the wizard, sounding slightly offended, “that I have no intentions in the slightest of …”

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” She slipped both boots into her stirrups. “But come on and get aboard.”

  Clothahump struggled with the high seat, puffing alarmingly. His short legs and great weight rendered mounting all but impossible. Jon-Tom moved forward and got his arms and shoulders beneath the considerable bulk. It was against Clothahump’s principles (not to mention his ego) to use magic to lift himself into the saddle. With Jon-Tom pushing and Talea pulling he managed to make it with a minimum of lost pride.

  When they were all seated Talea tugged lightly back on the reins. Having slept all night and morning as was the habit of its kind, the snake came awake slowly. She let the reins hang loose and the snake started to move forward.

  A laugh of surprise and delight came from the third saddle, where Flores Quintera sat. She was clearly enjoying the new sensation provided by an extraordinary means of locomotion. Looking back over her shoulder, she flashed a dazzling smile at Jon-Tom.

  “What a wonderful way to travel! Que magnifìco! You can see everything without having your behind battered.” She faced forward again and placed both hands on the pommel of the saddle.

  “Giddy up!” Her heels kicked girlishly at the scaly sides. The snake did not notice the minuscule tapping on its flanks, but paid attention only to the steering tugs at its sensitive ears.

  “Any particular route you’d like me to follow?” Talea inquired of her fellow saddle-mate.

  “The shortest one to the Tailaroam,” replied Clothahump. “There we will hire passage.”

  “What about building our own raft?”

  “Impossible. Tacking upstream against the current would be difficult. At the Duggakurra rapids it would become impossible. We must engage professionals with the know-how and muscle to fight such obstacles. I think we should turn slightly to the left here, my dear.”

  Talea pulled gently on the reins, and the snake obediently altered its slither. “That’ll take us a day longer, if I remember the land right. It’s been a long time since I’ve been as far south as the river. Too many nasty types hole out there.”

  “I agree it may take us a little longer to reach our goal this way, but by doing so we will pass a certain glade. It is ringed with very old oaks and is a place of ancient power. I am going to risk a dangerous conjuration there. It is the best place for it, and will be our last chance to learn the nature of the special corruption the warmlands will have to face.

  “To do this involves stretching my meager powers to the utmost, so I will require all the magical support the web of Earthforce can supply me. The web is anchored at Yul, at Koal-zin-a-Mec, at Rinamundoh, and at the Glade of Triane.”

  “I’ve never heard of the others.”

  “They lie far around the world and meet at the center of the earth. The affairs of all sentient beings are interwoven in the web, each individual’s destiny tied to its own designated strand. I will stand on one of the four anchors of fate and make the call that I must.”

  “Call? Who are you going to call?”

  But Clothahump’s thoughts seemed to have shifted. “The glade is close enough to the river so that we may leave our riding snake before we reach it and walk the rest of the way.”

  “Why not ride the snake all the way to the river?”

  “You do not understand.” She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. “You will not, until you see the result of what I am to attempt. Such as this,” and he tapped the riding snake’s back with a foot, “is but a dumb creature whose life might not survive even a near confrontation of the sort I have in mind. It is as strong as it is stupid, and in a panic could be the undoing of all of us. So we must leave it a day behind when we give it its freedom.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever you say. But my feet will argue with you.” She urged the snake to a faster pace.

  Several days of pleasant travel passed as they journeyed southward. No predator came near the massive snake, and at night they didn’t even bother to set a watch.

  Flores Quintera was a pleasant companion, but what troubled Jon-Tom was not her dissuasion of his hesitant attempts at intimacy so much as that the excitement of the trip seemed to make her oblivious to anything else.

  “It’s everything I ever dreamed of when I was a little girl.” She spoke to him as they sat around the small cookfïre. The flames danced in her night-eyes, prompting thoughts of obsidian spewing from the hearts of volcanoes.

  “When I was little I wished I was a boy, Jon-Tom,” she told him fervently. “I wanted to be an astronaut, to fly over the poles with Byrd, to sail the unexplored South Pacific with Captain Cook. I wanted to be with the English at Agincourt and with Pizzaro in Peru. Failing a change of gender, I imagined myself Amelia Earhart or Joan of Arc.”

  “You can’t change your sex,” he told her sympathetically, “and you can’t go back in time, but you could have tried for the astronaut training.”

  She shook her head sadly. “It’s not enough to have the ambition, Jon-Tom. You have to have the wherewithal. Los cerebros. I’ve got the guts but not the other.” She looked up at him and smiled crookedly. “Then there is the other thing, the unfortunate drawback, the crippling deformity that I’ve had to suffer with all my life.”

  He stared at her in genuine puzzlement, unable to see the slightest hint of imperfection.

  “I don’t follow you, Flor. You look great to me.”

  “That’s the deformity, Jon-Tom. My lack of one. I’m cursed with beauty. Don’t misunderstand me now,” she added quickly. “I’m not being facetious or boastful. It’s something I’ve just had to try and live with.”

  “We all have our handicaps,” he said, not very sympathetically.

  She rose, paced catlike behind the fire. Talea was stirring the other one nearby. Mudge was humming some ribald ditty about the mouse from Cantatrouse who ran around on her spouse, much to the gruff amusement of Pog. Clothahump was a silent, brooding lump somewhere off in the darkness.

  “You don’t understand, do you? How could you imagine what’s it like to be a beautiful animal? Because that’s how the world sees me, you know. I did the cheerleader thing because I was asked t
o.” She paused, stared across the flames at him. “Do you know what my major is?”

  “Theater Arts, right?”

  “Acting.” She nodded ruefully. “That’s what everyone expected of me. Well it’s easy for me, and it lets me concentrate on the harder work involved in my minor. I didn’t have the math for astrophysics or tensor analysis or any of that, so I’m doing business administration. Between that and the theater arts I’m hoping I can get in on the public relations end of the space program. That’s the only way I ever thought I’d have a chance of getting close to the frontiers. Even so, no one takes me seriously.”

  “I take you seriously,” he murmured.

  She stared at him sharply. “Do you? I’ve heard that before. Can you really see beyond my face and body?”

  “Sure.” He hoped he sounded sincere. “I don’t pretend that I can ignore them.”

  “Nobody can. Nobody!” She threw up her hands in despair. “Professors, fellow students: it’s hell just trying to get through an ordinary class without having to offend someone by turning down their incessant requests for a date. And it’s next to impossible to get any kind of a serious answer out of a professor when he’s staring at your tetas instead of concentrating on your question. You can call it beauty. I call it my special deformity.”

  “Are you saying you’d rather have been born a hunchback? Maybe with no hair and one eye set higher than the other?”

  “No.” Some of the anger left her. “No, of course not. I just could have done with a little less of everything physical, I suppose.”

  “Asi es la vida,” he said quietly.

  “Si, es verdad.” She sat down on the grass again, crossing her legs. “There’s nothing I can do about it. But here”—and she gestured at the dark forest and the huge serpentine shape coiled nearby—“here things are different. Here my height and size are helpful and people, furry or human, seem to accept me as a person instead of a sex object.”

  “Don’t rely on that,” he warned her. “For example our otter friend Mudge seems to have no compunctions whatsoever about crossing interspecies lines. Nor do very many others, from what I’ve seen.”