The Time Of The Transferance

by neetha Napew

  “I—I can’t.” The guard’s lips were twitching. “Sasheem would have my tongue out if I left my post,”

  “But you’re not leaving your post. Your job is to keep an eye on us, isn’t it? Those useless neuters are securely tied. So am I for that matter. Why, I wouldn’t be able to keep you from doing just any old thing you might want to do. And you will be keeping an eye on me, won’t you? Along with other things?”

  The guard turned, studied Jon-Tom, Mudge and Cautious. “One of them might get loose.”

  “Why don’t you tie their necks together?” Weegee suggested brightly. “That way if they try to run off they’ll just choke each other. If they trip and fall two of them will break the third one’s neck—not that that’d be any loss. Besides, we’ll just be a few feet over there.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “What could a little weak thing like me do, all tied up like this?”

  The temptation was too much for the guard. Drawing a length of heavy rope from his belt he quickly secured the three males neck to neck, so tightly the hemp burned into Jon-Tom’s skin. Then he lifted Weegee under her arms and dragged her off into the bushes. Mudge rolled over to face Jon-Tom.

  “Let’s ‘ave a chat, mate.”

  “About what?” Jon-Tom was looking past him into the underbrush where the guard had taken Weegee.

  “Anything you want,” the otter said tightly, “but let’s talk.”

  So they talked, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from the bushes until Weegee reappeared. She ran bent over and low and though her wrists were still bound behind her, she made short work of their bonds with her sharp teeth. Her clothing was more disheveled than ever.

  “How’d you get away from him?” Jon-Tom asked the question because Mudge couldn’t.

  “I waited and let him do as he pleased, whispering sweet sillinesses into his ears and moaning and whistling, and when he was about done I kissed him as hard as I could and kicked his nuts up into his throat, that’s how. Then I picked up a rock I’d selected earlier with my feet—he forgot that we otters are very agile with our feet—and I hit him in the head. Many times. Until he stopped moving. I don’t think he’ll move again.”

  Cautious was the last to be untied. As Mudge and Jon-Tom were helping him slip free of his bonds, Weegee vanished back among the bushes only to return a moment later with the guard’s knife and spear.

  “We’ve got to get our backpacks and stuff.” Jon-Tom rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into them. “We’ve at least got to get the sack my duar’s in.”

  “How much is me life worth to you, mate?”

  “Mudge, you know I can’t leave that behind.”

  “Some’ow I knew you’d say somethin’ like that.” The otter sighed. “Wait over there.” He pointed toward a clump of small trees. Not the bushes where Weegee had been dragged.

  They did as he bid, waiting for what seemed like an hour but was only a few minutes. Jon-Tom was about to suggest going after him when he reappeared, moving silently through the darkness, his own pack on his back and Jon-Tom’s trailing along behind him. Jon-Tom winced every time the sack containing the pieces of duar bounced off the ground.

  “Couldn’t you have been a little more careful with that?” He grabbed the backpack’s straps and swung it onto his shoulders.

  “Do tell? You ought to be grateful I risked me life to sneak back for that lousy sack o’ kindlin’.”

  “I am, because you’re the only one I know who could have done it.”

  “Oh, well, since you put it that way. I expect I am. Anyone else would ‘ave woken the lot of them.”

  At about that time a shout rose from the pirate encampment, followed by a couple of sleepy queries.

  “Would have, eh?” Weegee smacked him across the snout. Mudge slapped her back and Jon-Tom and Cautious had to forcibly separate the two lovers.

  “Ain’t got time for this, you bet,” Cautious chided them. Jon-Tom was trying to peer into the woods as the alarm spread slowly through the brigands’ camp.

  “Which way? Toward the beach?”

  “I doen know the beach. I know the woods.” The raccoon pointed southward. “We go that way.”

  At first the cries and shouts of the pirates faded behind them, but soon they gained in strength.

  “Following for sure.” Mudge scampered alongside Jon-Tom. “I ‘ave this uncomfortable feelin’ they won’t be so quick to give up on us this time. We’ve embarrassed ‘em once too often.”

  “I agree.” Jon-Tom ducked a low-hanging branch, felt the wood scrape the top of his scalp. “I’m afraid Sasheem will prevail.”

  “They won’t take us alive.” Weegee kicked a bush aside. “Think we can outrun “em?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced skyward worriedly. “I wonder if Kamaulk’s wing is healed enough for him to fly. I didn’t notice any other avians in the crew.”

  “Lucky break.” Mudge leaped a rivulet. “Be ‘ard put to spot us at night through these trees anyway.”

  At times the pirate’s cries would drift away, only to return stronger than ever as one of their number picked up the tracks of the escapees. Once they splashed down a shallow stream and temporarily lost their pursuers completely, only to have them eventually pick up the trail yet again. Cautious tried every trick he knew, but the pirates persisted. This time they wouldn’t tuck their tails between their legs and give up. And if they couldn’t shake them at night, Jon-Tom knew, they’d have twice the trouble losing them in the daytime.

  He was tired already. His heart pounded against his ribs and his legs felt like silly putty. Even Mudge and Weegee were showing signs of exhaustion. Not even an otter can run forever.

  Suddenly Jon-Tom stopped, nearly stumbling. Mudge crashed into him from behind and wheezed angrily up at his friend.

  “Wot’s the matter with you, mate? Come on, we’ve got to keep movin’.”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  “We ain’t got many minutes.”

  Jon-Tom ignored this as he moved curiously to his left. Mudge looked back into the woods, then at his companion.

  “Are you daft, lad? Wot is it you’re ‘untin’ for?”

  “Don’t you feel it?”

  “Feel wot?”

  “Something our friends are likely to overlook.” He was pushing leaves and branches aside now, let out an exclamation of satisfaction when he found what he was looking for.

  A cool, slightly damp breeze emerged from beneath a rocky ledge.

  “There’s got to be a cave down there. Pretty big one, too, judging from the strength of the wind coming out. Maybe we can’t lose them up here, but I think they’ll be less likely to come looking for us below, even if they’re lucky enough to find this opening.” He started scanning the forest floor. “Find something we can make torches out of.”

  There was plenty of dried moss. Wrapped around branches, these made serviceable faggots.

  “How do we light them?” Weegee had already searched her clothing. “I don’t have any flints with me. Can you sing a fire spell?”

  “No, but I’ve got these.” He fumbled in his pack. Sure enough, he had four matches left of the box he’d been carrying when Clothahump had first yanked him into this world. Saying a silent prayer, he struck the first alight. He was greatly relieved when the moss on the first torch caught instantly.

  Weegee was wide-eyed. “If not magic, what do you call that?”

  “Matches. I’ll explain later.” He touched the lit torch to the others. “Come on. If I fit, everyone’ll fit.”

  Cautious stepped in front of him. “My eyes are better in the dark than anyone else’s here, you bet. I go first. You follow, Jon-Tom, stay close to my tail. Maybe if I fall in big hole, you got something to grab. If not, I warn you before I bounce.” He grinned, clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned and ducked lithely beneath the ledge. Jon-Tom followed as Mudge and Weegee brought up the rear.

  The cave sloped steadil
y downward, a claustrophobic tube. Jon-Tom began to wonder if this had been such a bright idea. His palms were rubbing raw on the slick, unyielding limestone.

  Without warning the ceiling rose and everyone was able to stand. Torches revealed a graveled path leading steadily onward.

  Weegee surveyed the dark tunnel ahead. “Isn’t this far enough? I’m not very fond of deep places.”

  “Are you fond o’ bein’ slowly skinned alive?” Mudge nodded back the way they’d come. “If they do find the openin’ they’re liable to hear our voices or see the light from these torches. The farther we go the safer we’ll be.”

  Cautious had advanced several yards in front of his companions. “Opens up more, I think.”

  “Let’s go on.” Jon-Tom followed the raccoon. He’d always liked caves.

  Roughly a hundred feet beneath the forested surface the floor of the tunnel leveled out and their torches illuminated a subterranean world of baroque loveliness. Except for rock that had fallen from the ceiling the surface they were walking on was smooth and firm, having been scoured clean ages ago by a now vanished underground river. Water dripped from stalactites into shallow rimstone pools.

  “A live cave.” Jon-Tom held his torch close to one pristine limestone soda straw. “Still growing.”

  “Strange places, caves. Tis better to stay out of ‘em.” Mudge was studying the floor, looking for tracks. “One never knows wot sort o’ evil spirits lurk in their depths. O’ course in this case, we already know the nature o’ the evil spirits lurkin’ about above.”

  The torches were holding out well, burning slowly and steadily, and the extensive winding chamber showed no sign of diminishing in size. Jon-Tom allowed Cautious to lead on. The farther they got from Sasheem and Kamaulk and the rest of their murderous ilk the safer he’d feel. Eventually they’d find a convenient stopping place, extinguish all of their torches, and rest.

  Unless they discovered the entrance to the cavern the pirates would have to give up. Not even Sasheem and Kamaulk’s exhortations could keep the crew roaming a trackless forest for days on end. Even if they did discover the cavity beneath the ledge they probably wouldn’t enter, since the brigands tended to be more superstitious even than Mudge. Eventually the practical Kamaulk would have to admit he’d been outwitted again. His crew would mollify him by assuring him it was no crime to be fooled by a magician.

  The beauty surrounding them tended to take their minds off their distant pursuers. A cluster of stalagmites rose fifteen feet from the floor, gleaming beneath their coats of pure white calcite. Frozen flowstone waves clung like draperies from the walls and gave off charming musical tones when Mudge tapped them with his claws. Iron oxide stained several draperies, giving them the appearance of huge slabs of bacon. Miniature travertine dams held back the drip water.

  Long thin stalactites called soda straws hung from the ceiling, each with its bead of lime-saturated water dangling from the tip. One chamber was filled with helictites, twisted stalagtites that grew every which way in defiance of gravity. There were cave pearls and fried eggs and a whole phantasmagoria of wondrous speleotherms to admire. Jon-Tom identified stalactites and stalagmites that had grown together over the eons to form columns, tiny pale troglodytes that had to be cave crickets, long snaky wires....

  Long snaky wires?

  Hands shaking, he bent over and held his torch close to the motionless cable. The insulation was frayed and disintegrating but there was no mistaking what it was.

  Weegee leaned over his shoulder, her musk strong in the still air of the cavern. “What the devil is it?” Ignoring her, he began tracing the cable along the ground. She looked over at Mudge. “What’s wrong? Why doesn’t he answer?”

  Mudge bent low over the frayed cable, plucked a bit of torn insulation and smelled of it. His eyes were on his tall friend’s back. “I’ve an idea. ‘Tis insane, but no more insane than many things e an I ‘ave encountered in our travels together. Whether it bodes good or ill only the fates can say, those interferin’ blabbermouths.”

  Jon-Tom was examining the narrow cleft in the wall from which the cable emerged. By turning sideways he could just squeeze through. Several minutes passed before his companions were drawn by a shout from beyond. Clothahump couldn’t have followed, but Cautious and the two otters slipped easily through the gap.

  They came out in another decorated chamber seemingly no different from the one they had left. The cable continued to snake along the floor until it terminated in a square metal box. Another cable in somewhat better condition emerged from the other side of the container. Jon-Tom was studying it closely as his three companions gathered around.

  “What is it?” Cautious inquired.

  By way of reply Jon-Tom flipped open the box’s lid. A large plastic switch stared back at him. Hardly daring to hope, he turned it to the right. The primitive wiring not only still worked, it was connected to an as yet undiscovered power source. Mudge and Weegee jumped involuntarily as powerful argon lamps came to life and illuminated much of the chamber in which they stood. Cautious made protective signs in front of his body.

  “No jokes this time, mate. Where ‘ave you brought us?”

  “I don’t know. I sure as hell don’t know, Mudge.”

  Quickly overcoming his initial surprise, Cautious had wandered over to stare at one of the high intensity lamps. “Strongest glow-bulb spell I ever see.”

  “Don’t touch it,” Jon-Tom warned him. “They look old and I bet they get real hot real quick. This whole setup’s at least forty or fifty years old.”

  “So where do we go from ‘ere, mate?”

  “One of two ways, Mudge. Either we go back the way we came or we follow the cable and lights the other way and see if they lead to a dream come true.”

  “I’d rather they led to a decent eatin’ place, but I think I’d settle for a dream come true. I sure as ‘ell ain’t going back up yet. Weegee?”

  “If you trust Jon-Tom that much, how can I do less?”

  “Doen make no much difference to me,” added Cautious. “You lead now, tall man.”

  The cables led to another switch box, and another, and a fourth. Since the limits of the power supply had to be finite, Jon-Tom turned off the lights behind them each time he turned on the next set ahead. As old as the system was he didn’t think it would take much to overload it.

  Once the roof dropped, and they all had to bend to clear the ceiling. When it lifted so they could stand again the cavern had become another tunnel similar to the one they had descended but with one important addition. Concrete steps spiraled upward directly ahead of them.

  “Wot’s up there, mate? Or rather, wot do you think is up there?”

  “Not our piratical friends. As to anything else, I’m afraid to guess’.”

  “If we’re not to come out in the forest we left,” said Weegee, “where are we to come out, Jon-Tom?”

  “The mind boggles.” He started climbing.

  The steps wound their way up a narrow chute which had been artificially enlarged. As they neared the top they could smell warm air. A roof had been built over the hole. Several of the crossbeams had long since fallen in. The entrance to the cave below was either infrequently used or infrequently maintained.

  When they got to the top of the stairs they found themselves surrounded by stone walls. A double door of heavy planks sealed the exit and was secured by a fat padlock. Jon-Tom bent to examine it but was gently nudged aside.

  “Are you forgettin’ in whose company you’re travelin’?”

  Using a knife and another small tool from his pack, it took Mudge about two minutes to pick the lock. The doors were shoved aside.

  They found themselves standing atop a grassy knoll surrounded by trees very different from those they had left behind. There was no sign of the sandy-soiled cypress, pine and hardwood forest. The earth underfoot was thick with crumbled limestone, shale and clay. As for the trees, Jon-Tom recognized live oak right away. It took him longer to figure
out that their neighbors were mesquite.

  Off to their right stood a single building devoid of life. Climbing a few dozen yards the other way put them atop the highest part of the hill. From this vantage point they should have been able to see over the forest to the distant shore of the Glittergeist. There was no sea to be seen; only mile upon square mile of dense forest broken by a single wide, paved trail.

  As they stood and stared, a bulky monster came chugging down the trail. It roared twice.

  “Wot the bloody ‘ell is that?” Mudge stammered. ‘ Tis horrible to look upon.” Weegee turned her face to Jon-Tom. “Where have you brought us, spellsinger?”

  The monster was the size of several elephants. It had eighteen legs, all of them round, and as it thundered southward Jon-Tom could just make out the legend inscribed on its flank.PIGGLY WIGGLY

  Dumbfounded, he watched the eighteen-wheeler until it vanished into the woods. Fingers tugged insistently on his sleeve. “Out with it, mate. You know where we are, don’t you?”

  Jon-Tom didn’t reply, continued to gaze dazedly at the highway. Mudge turned away from him.

  “E’s bloody well out of it for now, ‘e is.”

  “There’s a sign of some son.” Weegee waddled over to the wooden square that topped a post marking the end of a dirt road. She couldn’t make out the alien hieroglyphics on the other side but Jon-Tom could. Mudge dragged his friend over. The sight of the familiar lettering shocked him back to reality.

  “It says, ‘Welcome to the Cave-With-No-Name’” and underneath, in smaller letters, “ ‘San Antonio - 64 Miles’.” ‘ ‘San At-nonio’?” Mudge’s brows drew together and his whiskers twitched. The sun was beginning to set over the eastern horizon. At least that were unchanged from the real world, he reflected. “I know Jarrow and I know Lynchbany an’ Polastrindu an’ half a ‘undred other cities, but I ain’t never ‘card o’ no San At-nonio.”

  “I didn’t think Hell would have quite so many trees.” Weegee was examining a pair of acorns.