Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  Wrounipai was overhead, and the surface, Jon-Tom

  estimated, was a good sixty feet out of reach. He

  couldn't be certain. He wasn't used to judging the

  depth of water from below.

  He turned back to the wall. "I think it's some kind

  of secretion."

  "You mean, somebody went and spit it up.''"

  "In so many words, yes." He waved his hand at the

  ceiling of the dome. "This is all organic, not manu-

  factured."

  A recent memory made him stare down at the

  otter again.

  "You said this was somebody's home.'*

  "Oi, that 1 did." Mudge led him across the cham-

  ber and had him look out the other side of their

  prison.

  The dome rested on a gentle slope which fell off

  sharply just beyond the structure's outer edge- A

  profusion of similar buildings occupied the lake bot-

  tom another fifty feet further down. Their architec-

  ture was unfamiliar. All were simple in design and

  THE MOUKHT Or THE MAGJCMW

  177

  devoid of visible ornamentation. Shapes moved slowly

  through and among them.

  Jon-Tom recognized a few of the shapes, and the

  small hairs on the back of his neck stiffened as some

  of -the most unpleasant moments of his life came

  back to him in a rush.

  "1 told you, you wouldn't like it," Mudge murmured.

  Jon-Tom moved as close to the wall of the dome as

  he could without making contact with the sticky

  material and stared into the depths. Despite the dim

  light there was no mistaking the identity of their

  captors.

  Plated Folk.

  XI

  They didn't belong here, in these warm, tranquil

  waters so far from their stinking home in the distant

  Greendowns. The Plated Folk were the builders of

  the implacable insect civilization which he and

  Clothahump had helped to defeat at the battle of the

  Jo-Troom Gate not so very long ago. This wasn't the

  Greendowns, and Clothahump had said nothing about

  the possibility of encountering any of them on the

  way to Quasequa.

  Therefore Clothahump himself knew nothing of

  their presence here. That was a disquieting thought.

  It meant that in all likelihood, neither did anyone

  else in the warmlands.

  "This is crazy. What are they doing so far from

  their homeland? A colony of them wouldn't be toler-

  ated by the locals."

  "I agree, mate. Any self-respectin' warmlanders

  would run the 'ard-shelled bastards all the way back

  to that cesspool they call *ome. If they knew they

  were settlin' in to stay in their own backyards, that is.

  But think about it: this 'ere's pretty empty country,

  and these oversized cockroaches are all underwater-

  dwellers. Ain't nobody goin' to raise the alarm over a

  bunch o' invaders they can't see."

  178

  TBK MOMENT OF THE MAGICIAN

  179

  "It's hard to believe that they haven't been seen by

  a few hunting parties out from Quasequa or some

  other town."

  "Maybe they have been seen, mate." Mudge's words

  wexe short and clipped. "Maybe them that sees *em

  ends up down 'ere like us, and maybe they never gets

  'ome to tell anyone else about wot they've seen."

  Silently, they turned back to the wall and stared

  out into the poisoned waters. Jon-Tom saw waterboat-

  men paddling along on their backs, their eyes cast

  forever downward. Dragonfly nymphs were nursed

  along- by water tigers, and water beetles of every

  imaginable shape and size swooped gracefully above

  the buildings of the colony.

  If it was a colony. They had no proof of that yet.

  "You think they have any contact with the capital

  of the empire at Cugluch, or could this be an isolated,

  independent community?"

  Mudge scratched at his whiskers. "1 couldn't say

  for sure, mate, but while you were lyin' there 'alf-

  dead, a couple of 'em came in to check on us and did

  somethin' that doesn't make me feel any too confi-

  dent about our future."

  "What's that?"

  "They took your duar."

  That was bad, Jon-Tom mused, very bad. "Maybe,"

  he suggested lamely, "they were just curious about

  it."

  "Right," agreed Mudge sardonically, "They're just

  a bunch o' bug-eyed music lovers and they likes to

  collect instruments. Maybe they'll also want you to

  play a solo for 'em later, but I wouldn't count on it.

  T^sey spent too much time examinin' it and starin' at

  you and whisperin'."

  "What are our chances of breaking out of here?"

  Jon-lbm stared up at the faint, twitching point of

  light that was the distant sun.

  Alan Dean Foster

  180

  "This bloody wall's as solid as iron, mate. There's

  only the one way in and out, and 1 don't think we'll

  be makin' a swim for it anytime soon." He drew

  Jon-Tom over to the pool of water that was visible just

  inside one section of wall. "See, I don't think we'd get

  very far."

  Drifting just below and outside the entrance to the

  dome was a terrifying marine form. The giant water

  bug was at least eight feet in length. It hovered in

  place like an armored submersible, displaying open

  mandibles big enough to snap off an arm or leg

  with a single bite.

  Jon-Tom nodded to himself. "So we don't take any

  casual baths." He looked past the guard. Something

  much smaller was moving toward them through the

  water. He found himself backing away. "What's that?"

  Mudge didn't budge. "Air delivery."

  The three-foot-long beetle had hind legs twice the

  length of its body, each covered with dense, flexible

  hairs. Upon reaching the entrance to the dome it

  pivoted in the water until its hind end was facing the

  opening. Between its back legs was a thin sicken

  envelope full of air. It backed toward the entrance

  and kicked once.

  The silk envelope split. There was a giant btup,

  water sloshed over Jon-Tom's feet and then receded,

  and a sudden wash of fresh air hit him like a spring

  breeze. The beetle swam away.

  "They do that regular," Mudge informed him,

  "which is why the air in 'ere ain't gone sour on us

  yet."

  "That's thoughtful of them."

  Mudge turned and began nervously pacing the

  hard-packed floor. "Wish I could say the same for

  the rest o' their manners. I ain't so sure I'd prefer

  not to suffocate." After completing half a dozen

  THE MOMENT or THE MAGICIAN 181

  circumnavigations of the dome, he stopped in front

  of the entryway again.

  "Now I know I'm faster than that big bastard, if I

  could just get past 'im." He let the thought trail off.

  "Trouble is, I'd probably do it in pieces."

  Jon-Tom moved back to the reed mat and sat

  down. "I never saw them hit us."

  "Neither did 1,
mate, until it was too late." He

  pointed toward the giant water bug floating placidly

  outside their prison. "That hunk of armored vomit

  came up underneath us., and dumped us in. His

  smaller relations were waidn' to drag us down 'ere."

  He looked over at his cOan&anion.

  "When theyspdumped l|s |n this 'alf bubble, your

  face was all sw^ll up like ayifiird's bladder. I thought

  y^a.were a golfer for sure-CTBey did a little dance on

  ytyur;j)ack an<^ pumped atx'i-tt 'alf a gallon o' water

  otit o^ou, th^n gave up an^Uleft- After a couple of

  ' groanirf, ^en fell asleep. I wiped

  face and figured I might as well

  woke up. That was yesterday."

  I- "I figured I must've been out

  happened to our raft and supplies?"

  Hsr the lake .bottom," Mudge told

  u|e^idn't see fit to salvage. They've

  feapoitt iff'a little dry storage area over

  the ^ter from ruinin' 'cm. Exhibit A

  :utiongyd wliger."

  ftiinutes^

  |he droo

  lurait and

  l-^ii

  forawtflJ

  '^Scattg

  him sadly.

  got ^11 oui

  there, to k

  for the pr

  Jen-Tom

  separated f

  smaller, air-

  ons and personal be

  terminate number o

  nt toJIwyalf Nfext to then- prison and

  >, it by omy a; foot of water/was a much

  ff^ d®n»e. Il^was cramh^ckwith weap-

  gings scavenged from an inde-

  similarly unlucky travelers to

  this part of the Wrounipai. The most recent acquisi-

  tions were clearly visible atop a wooden hamper: his

  ramwood staff and sword; Mudge's longbow and arrows

  and short sword; some of their food stock; and atop

  Alan Dean Foster

  182

  everything else, dry and apparently undamaged, his

  precious duar. If not for the intervening water and

  walls he might have reached out and grabbed it.

  "Mudge, if we could just get ahotd of my duac..."

  "Then you'd charm 'em all with your sweet songs.

  mate. Unfortunately, there's only one way out o' 'ere,

  and 1 ain't about to try it unless that mobile butcher

  shop out there swims off to take a crap or somethin',

  Uh-oh." He started backing toward the far wall.

  Jon-Tom looked around nervously. "What'is it,

  what's wrong?"

  "Company."

  Jon-Tom hurried to join him.

  One by one, a trio of Plated Folk entered the

  chamber. Spend the majority of their lives beneath

  the water they might, but they still had to go up to

  the surface from time to time to breathe. Their

  bodies concealed lungs, not gills. So they built air

  chambers to live in, like the imprisoning dome.

  Two of them looked like twins- They wore some

  kind of thin, unrusted metal armor. Jon-lbm thought

  it might have been tarnished copper, but he wasn't

  certain. Each was about four feet in height.

  The third was a tall, reedy character who looked

  something like a hydrotropic walking stick but really

  resembled no insect Jon-Tom had ever seen before

  on this world or his own. It wore no armor and,

  unlike its two stocky companions, carried no weapons.

  Instead, in one set of pincers it held several thin

  sheets of metal thick with engraving.

  This sickly seven-footer bent to confer with its

  aides. Together they appeared to discuss the con-

  tents of the metal sheets. Then it straightened to its

  full height and pointed an accusatory finger in Jon-

  Tom's direction.

  "There is no question. He is the one."

  "Is the one!" his two shadows declared loudly.

  THB MOMENT or TVS MAOSCIAM 183

  "Is the one what?" Jon-Tom asked innocently.

  **The music wizard who called forth the fire horse

  and slew the Empress Skrritch at theJo-Troom Gate.

  You are he,"

  Jon-Tom burst out laughing. "I'm who? Look, friend,

  I never heard of the Jo-Troom Gate or the Empress

  Skrritch or any of what you're talking about. My

  companion here and I are wanderers in this land.

  We're just a little while out from Quasequa, having

  ourselves a bit of vacation. I swear I don't know what

  the devil you're talking about!"

  "But you do know about lying. That much is

  evident," murmured the tall speaker, "because you

  do it so forcefully. You are the wizard. There is no

  point in denying it."

  "But I do deny it. Forcefully, as you put it."

  The pair of shorter insects moved toward him,

  drawing their short, curved swords. Barbs protruded

  from the sicklelike cutting edges.

  They lumbered past him and one put a sword

  against Mudge's throat. The otter made no effort to

  dodge. There was nowhere to hide.

  The fixed chitin could not convey much in the

  way of expression, but the speaker's meaning was

  dear to Jon-Tom nonetheless. "Do you deny it still?"

  Jon-Tom swallowed. "Maybe I did participate in

  the battle for the Gate, but so did half the inhabit-

  ants of the warmlands."

  The sword pressed tight against Mudge's Adam's

  apple, trimming some of the hair from his neck.

  *And 1 have some faint recollection of perhaps possi-

  bly maybe participating in some small way in the

  casting of some minor spell," Jon-Tom added hastily.

  The hooked scimitar withdrew and the otter

  breathed again.

  "That is better," said the speaker.

  "No need to take it so personal," Jon-Tom said,

  Alan Dean Foster

  184

  but the speaker ignored him, spoke instead to his

  two aides.

  "This is a great day for this outpost of Empire. A

  memorable day." The aides resheathed their swords.

  Their chitin was a rich maroon color, black under-

  neath and marked by thick black vertical stripes

  across the vestigial wing cases. The speaker was

  yellow and black, with white spots on his cases.

  "There will be decorations for all, and the war coun-

  cil will be pleased. The Empress herself will com-

  mend us."

  "The Empress?" Jon-Tom blurted it out. There-

  seemed no harm, since they were certain of his

  identity. "I thought Skrritch was slain during the

  battle, as you just said."

  "So she was. 1 refer to the Empress Isstrag, now

  reigning. She will preside over your deaths. A small

  measure of revenge will be gained for the destruc-

  tion you wrought at the Gate. I shall turn you over to

  the Dissembling Masters myself. Our land-dwelling

  cousins will be most delighted."

  "Your cousins? Then you didn't participate in the

  battle?"

  "Distance precluded our lending aid to our cous-

  ins in the Greendowns, and in any case the battle was

  waged upon the land. We could have been of litde

  help. We regretted our exclusion. Now you have pro-

  vided us with a means to make up for it."

 
; "If you didn't join in the fight, then you've got

  nothing against us, and we've got nothing against

  you," Jon-Tom argued desperately. "Why not let us

  go on our way? We've no quarrel with the inhabit-

  ants of Cugluch."

  "Ah, but they have a lingering quarrel with you,

  wizard. Your dismemberment will bring much honor

  on our isolated community. All will gain in prestige.

  THE MOMENT OF TEE BSAGICUN

  185

  You must be kept alive and well for your delivery to

  the Masters"

  "Look, guv'nor," said Mudge, "I know I don't 'ave

  a 'ole lot o' leverage 'ere, but if you're bound and

  determined to deliver us to this new Empress and 'er

  private torturers, 'ow about turnin' us in dead?"

  The speaker shook his head. "That would mitigate

  the delight of the royal court."

  "Aw, gee, that'd be a shame, wouldn't it?" said

  Mudge saracastically.

  The speaker missed it. "It speaks well of you that

  z you should take such an attitude. That is commend-

  ^ able in a servant."

  -s,

  "Servant! Who's a bloomin' servant!" Mudge's

  outrage, like Jon-Tom's earlier disclaimer, was ignored.

  "Perhaps the Empress will even allow this unwor-

  thy one to be present at the entertainment you will

  provide."

  "Yeah, I'll wave good-bye to you," Mudge muttered

  - sullenly.

  "If not, there will still be ample glory in delivering

  you up into her presence."

  "I'm curious about one thing," Jon-Tom said. "How

  did you know who we were?" He indicated the stor-

  age chamber outside the main dome. "You've obvi-

  ously murdered dozens of travelers."

  "Trespassers in our waters." Bulbous compound

  eyes focused on Jon-Tom. "As to the matter of identi-

  fying you, you underestimate yourself, man." The

  speaker's voice was hoarse, a rasping sound, due at

  least in part to the long, thin tube of a mouth from

  which his words emerged.

  "Did you think we are so disorganized as to not

  lake care to pass among ourselves descriptions of our

  greatest enemies? Do you think we would let them

  pass unnoticed among us? Great generals and great

  wizards among the warmlanders are well known to

  Alan Dean Potter

  186

  us. You should be proud to be among the notable,

  pleased that you should be so quickly recognized in

  a land so far from the place where you did battle "

  Somehow Jon-Tom didn't feel flattered.'"If you

  know that I'm a great wizard, then you must. also

  know that I ask these questions only to gratify my

  curiosity before we leave this place."