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
Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician Page 11