Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  tainer it was peaceful, silent, warm. He fought against

  falling asleep: that was what they wanted him to do,

  so he stubbornly resisted doing it.

  The speaker was nearby, giving orders. Jon-Tom

  was lifted into the air, and thin straps were passed

  over and around his container. He could tell he was

  being moved only because he could see movement

  TUB MOMENT or THE MAOICIAM 195

  through the transparent material. He could feel

  nothing.

  Then he was falling. The coffin had slipped, or

  been dropped. There was a rush of new activity

  around nim, but the cause of it remained foreign to

  his senses. His vision was starting to blur from the

  effects of the Ruze's toxin. Soon he would be asleep

  despite his best efforts to stay awake-

  Staring straight upward he thought he could make

  out a vast dark shape coming toward him. It was

  blocking out the sunlight. For an instant it appeared

  to linger near the apex of the dome, and then the

  dome came apart. It did not crack or split like glass

  or plastic. It simply imploded.

  An explosive influx of water sent his coffin spinning,

  along with the bodies of his captors. With his

  perception already distorted, it was impossible to tell

  which direction he was tumbling-

  He was alone, a pebble in a bottle, a tiny human

  marble being bounced between floor and walls. Some-

  thing had shattered the dome. That much he was

  certain of. He wanted to cry out as the water spun

  him in circles, but his tongue and vocal cords were

  paralyzed now. It didn't matter. There was no one to

  hear him.

  The wall collapsed, and the swirling currents threw

  him outside the broken enclosure. The angry waters

  quieted. It was peaceful outside the boundaries of

  the ruined dome, though stirred-up sediments clouded

  the pristine water of the lake. Or was the darkness

  only in his mind?

  It seemed as though he was falling now, still tum-

  bling over and over, bouncing down the side of the

  underwater hill on which his prison had been

  constructed. He fell slowly because of the water and

  because of the air within his coffin. The latter was

  already beginning to smell stale. When he started to

  Aian Dean Foster

  196

  black out, he suspected it was due not to the afteref-

  fects of the injection he'd received but to the deple-

  tion of his small air supply.

  In his drugged fashion he was elated. He would

  not have to suffer repealed visits from the Ruze, nor

  some slow and painful dismemberment in distant

  Cugluch. He was going to die here and now. He

  would have smiled if his paralysis had permitted it.

  The Plated Folk were going to be cheated of their

  ceremonial revenge.

  Then the darkness came to him, and he welcomed

  it.

  XII

  After an eternity it occurred to him that the tem-

  perature around him was rising. Not so surprising in

  death, perhaps, but it did surprise him that he could

  sense the change.

  He tried to open his eyes. The muscles protested.

  It was as though he were not completely dead. He

  tingled all over, an excruciating sensation.

  Since his eyes weren't functioning, he tried to

  move his lips. They worked, but fitfully. He forced

  them to. He badly wanted a swallow of air.

  When he finally managed that complicated series

  of movements, he tried to scream. The air went

  down his throat and into his lungs like a chunk of

  raw liver. The next swallow was easier, however.

  Long-dormant glands generated saliva, and this helped

  even more.

  Possibly he was not dead. He argued the point

  with the rest of his body, which insisted he was. He

  had drowned or suffocated or both, but he certainly

  wasn't alive.

  Exhibit A for the defense: he could breathe. The

  prosecution faltered in its argument, and then the

  case for his demise was in tatters. Nothing like intro-

  ducing a surprise piece of evidence at the critical

  197

  Alan Dean Foster

  198

  moment, he mused. But now he would have to prove

  to the court that he was capable of consciousness.

  First witness for the defense to the stand. I

  call... sight! Open one lid and swear on your optic

  nerve. Do you solemnly swear to see, to perceive, to

  provide a view of the world arould this not-quite-

  corpse? I do.

  Someone was staring down at him, a fuzzy moon

  of a face. It wore an anxious expression. There was a

  black nose; a lot of brown fur; bright concerned

  eyes; and whiskers that twitched.

  "Madge," he mumbled. Someone had filled his

  mouth with glue.

  The face broke out in a scintillating smile and

  looked away from him. "Now, ain't that interestin'. 'E

  thinks I'm 'is friend."

  A calming, reassuring, confident voice. Only prob-

  lem was, it didn't belong to Mudge. It was too

  high-pitched.

  Jon-Tom put a hand to one ear, deU|

  was able to do so, and did some plumt

  fed that he

  "Take it easy, man," the voice ^tt^ "V

  so good." "<1

  in't look

  "That's appropriate," he mumbled. Str^ftgth was

  flowing back into him along with consciousness. "I

  don't feel so good either."

  The otter leaning over him was definitely not

  Mudge. In place of the familiar green felt cap and

  feather, this stranger wore a leather beret decorated

  with glass buttons- The face was slimmer than Mudge's,

  1|a, features more delicate. Instead of a simple vest it

  ^^^a comptex assortment of straps and metal rings.

  iJO'^^fean that he cottldn't see. Changing his line of

  sight.y^yeL ha^ meapt raising himself up on his

  elbowg^^life^tin^eel he was ready for that yet.

  "Hi/^ic^^^ler^.'Me name's Quorly. You're

  cute. Mu8it&-(Sd me you were cute, but not very

  "•» '-_ •» '

  THE MOMBJTT OF THK MAOSCWI

  199

  bright. I thought a spellsmger was supposed to be

  bright."

  Maybe it was the curled eyelashes, Jon-Tom told

  himself. Or the streaks of paint above the eyes

  themselves. Makeup? Or war paint? He couldn't decide.

  Another otterish face hove into view and smiled

  hesitantly down at him. Still not Mudge. This one

  was too wide, almost pudgy. Somehow the idea of a

  fat otter seemed like a contradiction in terms, but

  there was no denying the new arrival's species, or

  corpulence. He wore a wide, floppy chapeau that

  drooped over his eyes. ^

  "This is Norgil," said Quorly. s.

  "Hiyal" The new arrival frowned over atthe female.

  Female. Quorly was a she, Jon-Tom Decided. So

  the face paint was makeup, then..0r tpaybe it was

  makeup and war paint. With 'otters, according to

  what Mud
ge had told him, you <3^uld never be sure.

  "Think 'e can 'ear us?" NorgUFAsked*

  "I can..." Jon-Tom was startlftd b^'the croaking

  sound that issued from his throaJS H^ JEried again. "I

  can... hear you. Who are you?" ^ |k }

  "See?" Quorly beamed down at Sy^ as she spoke

  to her companion. "He's alive. ThatJtfUdge chap was

  right. He's just a little slow." She, s^^ tb Jon-Tom.

  "I just told you. I'm Quorly, and vyi^^ Norgil." She

  looked to her left and gestured, "^gtos^'you feel up

  to it I'll introduce you to MemaWj^p^ph, Frangel,

  Sasswize, Drortch, Knorckle, VVi.ipp.j^^iiLzasaraiig-

  elik... but you can call him V^^Sfi'S1

  The names all ran together ii?^^-im's brain.

  He'd have to try and sort them <^|^^f'-

  At the moment, all his energies ^^fe^ncentrated

  on the difficult task of sitting up.
  that, he settled for turning over on Ins left side. This

  operation he accomplished with some success, save

  for throwing up effusively and compelling his two

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  200

  attendants to jump clear. Despite his bulk, Norgil

  proved himself as agile as any otter, moving with a

  kind of high-speed waddle.

  *"E's alive, all right," said Norgil disgustedly.

  They were on an island, Jon-Tom knew. He could

  tell it was an island because he could see the water of

  the Wrounipai off in the distance. Of the Plated Folk

  there was no sign-

  He glanced past his feel and was rewarded with a

  view of lean-tos, more elaborate temporary shelters,

  and a couple of crackling fires. Two unfamiliar,

  outrageously attired otters were broiling several huge

  fish on a long spit over the larger of the two blazes.

  Several others were sliding spitted, cleaned fish on

  long poles and setting them out to dry in the sun.

  "We're a 'unting party," Quorly informed him.

  " Tis a lot easier to make a good 'aul when there's a

  bunch o* you all workin' together. 'Tis also more fun.

  We do right well. Usually don't come this far north,

  but 'tis been a long time since anyone tried to tap this

  district, so we thought we'd give 'er a looksee. Lucky

  damn good thing for your arse that we did."

  Another shape was approaching- Norgil moved

  aside to give the newcomer room. And at last, a

  familiar face and voice.

  "Top o* the mornin' to you, mate!" Mudge pushed

  his cap back on his forehead, gave Jen-Tom a quick

  once-over, and put an affectionate arm around Quoriy's

  waist. She leaned back into him, grinning.

  No wonder Mudge was smiling so broadly, Jon-

  Tom mused. It had been a while since he'd been with

  any of his own kind. He struggled to smile back.

  "Hello, Mudge."

  " *0w you feelin', mate?"

  "Like a reused tortilla: pounded fiat on both sides "

  "Don't know wot that be. but you look beat-up for

  sure. 'Ad a bad moment or two down there" He

  THE MOMENT OF THE MAGICIAN 201

  nodded to his right- "Couldn't find you nowheres.

  Old Memaw spotted the box they'd stuck you in

  slidin' down the side o' the embankment. If she

  'adn*t o' seen you when she did, ii'd been too late for

  you by ftie time we'd o' found it."

  Jon-Tom noddec^ "I believe I'd like to try sitting up

  now."

  "Think you're up to it, mate?"

  "No, but I'm going to try anyway."

  Strong, short arms helped support him. For a

  minute he thought he was going to throw up again.

  His friends looked alarmed and he hastened to reas-

  sure them.

  "No, I'm belter now, it's okay. It's the aftereffects

  of the shit they shot into me. My insides are still on a

  roller coaster."

  "Wot's that?" Quorly asked.

  "See? I told you 'e were a strange one, even for a

  'uman," said Mudge-

  She looked sideways at Jon-Tom. "Yes, but *e is

  cute"

  "Don't you go gettin' any funny ideas, luv. Besides,

  *e 'as funny ideas 'imself." Mudge nodded at Jon-

  Tbm. " 'As a phobia or somethin' about stickin' to 'is

  own kind. Don't care much for variety."

  "Oh." Quorly looked solemn, then shrugged. "Well,

  'is business is 'is business."

  Jen-Tom paid little attention to this casual dissec-

  tion of his sexual preferences and tried to massage

  some feeling back into his cheeks and forehead.

  "What happened? How did you get away?"

  "Well, mate, after you fell asleep last night, I

  stayed awake rackin* me brain and tryin* to think o'

  somethin'. Tis easy to think in the darkness, and it

  were damn dark down there once the sun went

  Awn. Some o' them creepy-crawlies 'ad their own

  glow lights, but they didn't come up around our

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  202

  jail. Don't need much light when you're used to

  gettin' around by feelin' the vibrations in the water.

  "Anyways, I was fresh out of clever notions when

  our delivery bug with the 'airy 'ind legs showed up to

  make 'is regular air drop. That's when it 'it me,

  mate. The only thing comin' into our cell regular

  and unquestioned was air, and the only thing takin'

  its own sweet time leavin' was the bug that brought

  it.

  "So I gets this idea in me noggin, see, and I kind

  of roll over toward the exit like I'm movin' in me

  sleep. The next time delivery bug comes back and

  dumps 'is air I'm restin' quiet as an undertaker right

  close to the water, and I just sort o' rolls out behind

  'im when 'e leaves. Didn't even try to swim, just let

  meself float up behind 'im so as not to upset our

  'ammer-'anded guard with any undue movements.

  'E never even turned to 'ave a look, I'm 'appy to say-

  The big 'ard-shelled ugly bastard.

  "Delivery bug never even knew I was 'auntin' 'is

  'eels. Too busy with *is bloody job, I expect. Anyways,

  I went up like a bubble, not movin', until we got near

  the surface. Then 1 just let meself drift along like an

  old log. After I'd floated for a while, I started

  swimmin* real slow-like, ready to break all records

  for the ten-leaguer if anythin' showed up behind me.

  Nothin' did. Got away clean. Didn't really start movin'

  till I was sure I was away safe and unnoticed. Then,

  well, you never saw anythin* move through the water

  that fast, mate."

  "I was thrilled you escaped, Mudge, but I never

  expected you to come back after me."

  Mudge looked a little embarrassed, didn't look a(

  his friend directly. "Well now, mate, to be perfectly

  practical about it, I found meself thinkin' that there

  weren't a whole lot I could 'ave done for you all by

  meself, so I kind of bid you a tearful 'ail and farewell

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  203

  and it were nice knowin' you and struck off back

  northward in a big curve. 'Adn't gone too far when I

  got 'ungry and found a deep pool full
o' Fish. After

  that little swim I was more than a mite starved.

  "Wot 'appened was I got meself good and tangled

  up in this big net. Thought those bleedin' bugs 'ad

  some'ow followed me and caught me all over again.

  Wasn't so much scared as angry with meself.

  "Come to find out when I were dragged into the

  daylight again that it weren't our old bulgy-eyed

  buddies at all that 'ad caught me, but a swell lot o'

  distant cousins." He patted Quorly on the derriere

  and she giggled.

  An extraordinary sound- Jon-Tom had never heard

  an otter giggle before.

  "You should 'ave 'eard 'im as we were untanglin'

  'im from our net," she told Jon-Tom. " 'Im all tied up

  in there with our fish and water reeds and bait and

  all. Wot a mouth!"

  "I'm just the expressive type is all, luv." He turned

  back to Jon-Tbm. "Anyways, findin* meself among

  this 'ealthy bunch o' the clan forced me into one 'ell

  o* a battle with me conscience, mate. I couldn't decide

  wot to do. So I decided to leave it up to them as to

  whether to take the risk o' goin' back and tryin' to

  spring you from the chitinous jaws o' death, as it

  were. And wouldn't you know that every one o' the

  bloomin* fools opted to do the dumb thing and go

  back?" Mudge shook his head sadly. "You've been

  rescued by a lot o' certifiable crazies, mate."

  "I am grateful," Jon-Tom said with feeling, "for

  your collective stupidity."

  Quorly blinked at Mudge. "Wot did 'e say?"

  "Don't pay 'im no mind, luv. 'E just talks like that

  sometimes- 'E don't mean nothin' by it. See, 'e were

  studyin' to be a solicitor and 'e can't 'elp 'imsetf. It's

  kind o' like a disease o' the mouth,"

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  904

  She eyed Jon-Tom appraisingly. "I thought you

  were a spellsinger."

  "That too," Jon-Tom told her.

  Mudge leaned close and whispered. "'E's a bit

  confused about everything, see?" The otter rapped

  the side of his head.

  "Oh." Quorly looked properly sympathetic.

  Jon-Tom endured everything in silence, partly be-

  cause he was used to Mudge and his brand of humor

  and partly because he was too happy to be alive and

  safe to quibble about being subjected to a little casual

  abuse.

  "How did you finally get me out of there?" He

  rubbed at his forehead. "All I remember is some-

  thing dark and wide blotting out the light and then

  the dome breaking."

  Mudge managed the difficult task of strutting while