Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  clearance.

  They trotted down the long hall and turned left.

  Cherjal had provided them with what was generally

  known of the Quommate's floor plan, but no one

  was certain of the location of the residential rooms

  where Markus was likely to have his headquarters.

  They'd have to find that themselves.

  Everything went smoothly until Sasswise leaped

  into the air grabbing at her backside. When she

  came down she started haranguing the innocent Norgil.

  "Will you watch wot you're doin' with that damn

  sword!"

  "Now, look 'ere, m'lady, I'm just keepin' it 'andy in

  case we're attacked... if you don't mind." Norgil ges-

  tured with the stubby but sharp offender. "Why

  don't you give a body a little room to move about?'*

  "Move about? I'll give you room to move about,

  you fat slob. I'll move you...!"

  "Quiet!" Memaw said sharply. "Be quiet, you twol"

  Already too late, Jon-Tom saw despairingly. A pair

  of halberd-wielding foxes had crossed their path a

  safe distance down the corridor. The noise brought

  them back to investigate. Now they were staring

  straight at the tightly packed clutch of invaders.

  "You there, where did you come from?" one

  demanded to know.

  "Cur's cockles!" Memaw muttered. She glanced

  right, then left, and led them up a side corridor. Not

  knowing what else to do, Jon-Tom followed. Shouts

  and yells rang out behind them.

  "So much for the element o* surprise," groused

  Mudge.

  THE MOMENT OF TOE MAGJCUN 233

  "It'll be all right," Quoriy assured him. "You'll see.

  We'll lose that pair of fools quick enough."

  Mudge skidded to a stop. "Righty-ho, but wot

  about this new lot o* fools?"

  A whole platoon of soldiers had appeared in the

  hall directly ahead and were now charging toward

  them. The platoon was an interesting mix of species,

  varying in size from armed rats and mice to two

  great cats and one ape.

  "Listen," Jon-Tom said innocently, "can't we talk

  about this?" The ape stabbed at him and he jumped

  aside, bringing down his staff on the other's spear.

  Instead of listening to reason, the ape reversed his

  weapon and tried to shove the butt end through

  Jon-Tom's teeth.

  He ducked and the blow passed over his head. A

  swipe with the ramwood took the ape's legs out from

  under him. The sound of fighting was deafening in

  the narrow corridor. The otters found themselves at

  a disadvantage in such confines, where they couldn't

  make use of their quickness. But the guards' rein-

  forcements couldn't get at their quarry and kept

  bunching up against each other in the corridors.

  Superior numbers couldn't be brought to bear against

  the invaders, but neither could they escape.

  Jen-Tom saw Mudge cut a tendon in a vizcacha's

  leg, saw blood spun, and watched as the stripe-faced

  soldier went down, too stunned to scream. Then

  something whacked him on the back of his neck and

  he staggered. He whirled, hunting for his assailant,

  and saw nothing but stars before his eyes.

  The stars grew brighter as he was hit again. He

  blinked and shook his head. As he did so he leaned

  slightly backward, and saw his attacker. An armored

  possum hung by its tail from one of the rafters. Iron

  weights were strapped to its waist and it was taking

  its time picking out targets among the otters below.

  Alaa Dean Foster

  234

  Nobody could reach him and Mudge was too busy

  defending himself with his sword to unlimber his

  bow.

  The possum wasn't used to fighting someone as

  tall as a human, however. Jon-Tom tried to knock

  the dangling fighter loose with his ramwood staff but

  couldn't quite reach him. For its part, the possum

  decided to stop playing around. The next iron ball it

  selected was lined with short, sharp spikes. It strug-

  gled to draw a bead on Jon-Tom as he bobbed and

  dodged below.

  Jon-Tom thumbed the concealed switch set in the

  staff, and the ramwood lengthened by six inches of

  sharp steel. A sudden jab pierced the possum's throat.

  It looked very surprised, hung for a moment longer

  from the ceiling, and then dropped like a stone.

  The otters fought well, but no matter how many

  they cut down, there were always more soldiers to

  take the places of the fallen. By now the whole

  complex must be alerted, Jon-Tom thought grimly.

  Still, it was Memaw who finally called a halt to the

  fighting when she saw the twisted form of poor

  Norgil lying limp against the marble. The otter had

  taken half a dozen sword thrusts and his life was

  leaking out on the floor. Already blood made the

  footing treacherous. That would take away the otters'

  one advantage: their quickness.

  So Memaw put up her sword and said, "Enough.

  We surrender."

  "Surrender? Wot's that mean, surrender?" said

  Quorly, panting hard. Her fine clothing had been

  shredded by sword cuts but otherwise she appeared

  unharmed.

  "No, Memaw's right, she is." Knorckle tossed his

  sword aside. "Better to gather strength and wits in

  jail than to perish here."

  The guards moved among them, collecting knives

  THE aSOMSHT OF THK MAQSCWI

  236

  and scimitars and searching briskly for any concealed

  weapons. Jon-Tom prayed they might leave him his

  duar, but they confiscated it also, along with his

  backpack.

  When this was done, a massively muscled jaguar

  shoved his way to the fore. His leather armor was

  streaked with sword cuts.

  "Explain this outrageous intrusion," he growled.

  ~ Jen-Torn stepped forward and growled right back

  at him. "Outrageous is the word for it. Here we

  arrive on time for our appointment and instead of

  receiving a courteous greeting, we are brutally attacked.

  What kind of troops do you station in here, anyways?

  . Cutthroats and murderers!"

  The jaguar's eyes narrowed and he stroked his

  -„ chin. "An appointment, you say. With whom?"

  "Markus the Ineluctable," Jon-Tom told him

  defiantly. "And is he going to be pissed when he

  / clears how we've been treated."

  "Markus, you say?" The officer pushed his helmet

  back off his ears. He looked tired. "Next I expect

  you're going to tell me that this is all a misunder-

  standing and that it'll easily be straightened out as

  soon as I take you to the advisor?"

  "~ "Of course." Jen-Torn replied easily.

  The jaguar seemed to consider. "The master is

  sleeping and would not wish to be disturbed. This

  casts something of a shadow over your story, tall

  man. It may be that the appointment you seek will be

  "' with the Chamber of Official Torments... but that is

  not for rne to decide. The G
reat Markus will do

  ;. that"

  "Fine with us. If you'll just take us to him, I

  imagine he forgot all about our visit tonight. He'll

  straighten this out fast." Jon-Tom glared at the sol-

  ^ diers bunched together behind the officer. "When

  ^ he learns what's happened, heads will roll."

  Aim Dean Foster

  336

  "I prefer to bounce them myself," said'the jaguar

  evenly. "As a point of interest, some bounce nicely

  for a while, while others just go smash. I wonder

  which yours would do." '

  Jen-Torn went slightly weak in the knees, but didn't

  let k show. "Why not ask Markus?"

  "Why not, indeed?" replied the officer surprisingly.

  "As I said, only he will know the truth of your words.

  If you'll be so kind as to follow me?" He gestured

  with a paw.

  "That's more like it." Jon-Tom strode confidently

  past the jaguar, continuing to glare at the guards.

  They descended several levels until the air began

  to grow thick and moist. They were below lake level,

  and moisture seeped relentlessly through ancient

  stonework.

  "Markus the Ineluctable lives down here?" he asked

  their guide.

  "No," rumbled the jaguar. "As I told you, he sleeps

  and would not wish to be disturbed. I will notify him

  of your arrival. As he's expecting you, I'm sure he'll

  be right down. Meanwhile, I thought you would

  enjoy explaining yourselves to the leading members

  of our government, who are at this moment awaiting

  your presence in their new conference chamber."

  "We've heard that some members of the Quorum

  weren't getting along too well with their new advisor."

  "Is that so? A vicious, unfounded rumor. So much

  gossip in the city marketplaces these days. You really

  shouldn't pay attention to such idle chatter. Ah, the

  Quorum doorman. You there!" he roared at a doz-

  ing javelina. "Visitors for the Quorum!"

  Tusks flashing in the dim torchlight, the javelina

  roused himself and led them forward. Jon-Tom balked

  at the sight of the iron grille, but there was nothing

  to be done about it now. They were herded toward

  the open cell.

  THE MOUKHT OF TBK UAOICSAS

  237

  "There you go. Enjoy your conference," the officer

  said smoothly as the cursing, complaining otters were

  shoved through the opening. The javelina locked it

  from the outside.

  Jon-Tom glared through the bars. "You're a real

  smart-ass, aren't you, fuzz-brain?"

  "My, my, such language from those who are friends

  of the Great Markus," the jaguar said mockingly. "I

  will inform him of your arrival. Meanwhile, do make

  yourselves comfortable. I must see to the prepara-

  tions for your evening meal. Swill is served in a

  couple of hours." He turned and stalked off toward

  the stairway, laughing uproariously at his subtle wit.

  His soldiers clustered tightly around him.

  Turning, the otters found themselves sharing the

  cell with half a dozen surprised and rudely awakened

  elders. Here were those members of the Quorum

  who'd refused to countenance Markus's bid for

  power... and one other. The robed salamander

  stepped forward and introduced himself.

  "I greet you, fellow sufferers. I am Opiode the Sly,

  former chief advisor in matters arcane and mystic to

  the legitimate Quorum of Quasequa and now chief

  advisor in those same arts to the deposed Quorum of

  Quasequa."

  Jon-Tom wasn't ready for conversation with Opiode

  or anyone else. Failing to Find an empty comer, he

  sat down in the center of the floor.

  "My fault, dragging all of you into this. I should've

  come by myself."

  "Let's not 'ave none o' that, Jonny-Tom," said

  Quorly.

  "Right." Drortch put a consoling paw on his shoul-

  der. "You didn't 'ave no choice in the matter. You

  couldn't 'ave made us stay behind if you'd tried."

  "Right... that's so... better believe it..." agreed a

  chorus of otterish voices.

  Alan Dean Porter

  238

  "'Ow come nobody ever asks me wot I wants to

  do?" Mudge found a section of empty floor to sulk

  on.

  Memaw laid a maternal paw on Jon-Tom's head.

  "Norgil's time had come, that's all, my friend. Per-

  haps time for all of us. We have no regrets."

  "But 1 do, damn it! You shouldn't be here with

  me"

  "Damn right, mate," snapped Mudge. Memaw

  wagged a warning Finger in his direction.

  "Now, Mudge -.."

  "Don't 'Mudge' me, water-elder," the otter snapped

  back. "I've earned the right to 'ave me say, I 'ave.

  You've only 'ad to deal with this spellsingin' shit'ead

  for a few days. Me, I've 'ad to put up with 'is sorceral

  muddlin's for months. All I want is to live an ordi-

  nary life. An ordinary life, mind. And 'e keeps

  yankin' me off to join 'im on 'is bloody bloomin'

  bleedin' inexplicable quests and wotever. Well, I'm

  sick of it." He spat the words in Jon-Tom's direction.

  "You 'ear me, mate? Sick of it!"

  Quorly stared at him in disbelief. "Mudge! I'm

  surprised at you."

  " 'Ell, luv, I'm surprised at me, too. Surprised I'm

  'ere, but not surprised at 'ow this 'as turned out.

  Twas only a matter o' time, it were. That senile old

  turtle went and spun the wheel o* fate one time too

  many, and now the odds 'ave finally caught up with

  us. Only thing that's surprised me is that I've sur-

  vived 'is rotten company as long as I 'ave." He turned

  bis back on them all.

  "Turtle?" The elderly salamander wiped at his face.

  "Can it be that you are the help the great Clothahump

  has sent to us?'^

  "Not us," Memaw corrected him. "We are son of

  along for the swim." She indicated jon-Tom. "You

  need to talk to the young gentleman."

  239

  THE MOMBJVT Of THE MACTCIAJT

  Opiode turned an amphibious eye on the uncom-

  fortable Jon-Tom while one'of the deposed Quorum

  members voiced the thought that was in all their

  minds.

  "Just him? Him, and the noisy otter? They're our

  salvation? They are the strength Clothahump sends

  to us?"

  "I fear it may be so." Opiode hesitated as he spoke

  to Jon-Tom. "Unless you and the otter are simply the

  advance scouts. That's it, isn't it? Clothahump and

  his mystic army are encamped not far away, awaiting

  your report, aren't they?"

  Jon-Tom sighed as he turned to face the advisor.

  "Sorry. I'm afraid we're it. Me, Mudge, and our

  recently acquired friends. We're your help, and we

  haven't done a very good job of it so far. My plan

  was for us to slip in here quiet-like so that I could

  have a face-to-face meeting with Markus before any-

  one got excited. We didn't quite manage it"

  "Now, there's a snappy news bulletin," Mudge
r />   muttered from his corner.

  'An interesting stratagem," Opiode murmured, "but

  what good would it have done had you succeeded?

  You would still have ended up down here with the

  rest of us who oppose his bid for absolute power."

  Jon-Tom tried to summon up some of his battered

  confidence. "Not necessarily. If he didn't listen to

  reason, I was prepared to fight him. I'm a spellsinger,

  and a pretty good one."

  Opiode slumped. "A spellsinger? Is that all?"

  "Hey, now, wait a minute. I've accomplished some

  pretty impressive things with my spellsinging"

  "You do not understand. I do not mean to impugn

  your modest talents. But you must know that I am a

  wizard of no small stature, yet I was unable to

  counter the magic of this Markus. It is as unpredict-

  able and peculiar as it is effective. No mere spellsinger,

  Aim Deaa Porter

  240

  however voluble, can hope to deal with that." The

  salamander strained to see behind Jon-Tom.

  "Besides which, you have no instrument to accom-

  pany you."

  "They confiscated it along with our weapons and

  supplies."

  "It does not matter," said Newmadeen sadly. "It's

  obvious this one wouldn't stand a chance against

  Markus anyway."

  "I'd hoped to find a little more support here,"

  Jon-Tom told them. He was starting to get a little

  peeved by all the criticism. "None of you have any

  idea of my capabilities. You don't know what I can

  do."

  "Perhaps." The elderly squirrel who spoke was

  clad in rags. The bandage around his forehead indi-

  cated he hadn't accepted his deposition and subse-

  quent incarceration gracefully. Several pieces of his

  tail were missing.

  "But we do know what you can't do, and that's get

  in to see Markus. No one sees him anymore except

  his closest associates—Kindore and Asmouelie and

  the other traitors- And that dim-witted mountain of

  a bodyguard of his, Prugg."

  "I have to see him. We have to meet. It's the only

  way to resolve things."

  "Things will be resolved soon enough, as soon as

  he has consolidated his power," said the squirrel,

  whose name was Selryndi. "Markus will resolve his

  embarrassments by having them skewered, weighted,

  and dumped in a deep part of the lakes." He looked

  bitter. "We are at fault. We ought never to have

  allowed him to compete for the post of advisor."

  "It was the law," said Opiode.

  "Aye, but you warned us against him afterward