now," he told the exhausted Jon-Tom. "He's worn
out."
"But what was it all about?" the man asked. "What was
the purpose of the trance?"
"Won't know till he wakes up. Got ta do it naturally.
Dere's nothin' ta do but wait."
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Jon-Tom eyed the comatose form uncertainly. "Are you
sure he'll come out of it?"
Pog shrugged. "Always has before. He better. He owes
me...."
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XII
Once there were inquiring words at the curtain and Jon-
Tom had to go outside to explain them away. Time passed,
the distant music faded. He slept.
A great armored spider was treading ponderously after
him, all weaving palps and dripping fangs. Run as he might
he could not outdistance it. Gradually his legs gave out, his
wind failed him. The monster was upon him, leering down at
his helpless, pinioned body. The fangs descended but not into
his chest. Instead, they were picking off his fingers, one at a
time.
"Now you can't play music anymore," it rumbled at him.
"Now you'll have to go to law school... aha ha ha!"
A hand was shaking him. "Da master's awake, Jon-Tom
friend."
Jon-Tom straightened himself. He'd been asleep on the
floor, leaning back against the chamber wall. Clothahump
was sitting up on the creaking wicker bed, rubbing his lower
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jaw. He donned his spectacles, then noticed Jon-Tom. His
gaze went from the man to his assistant and back again.
"I now know the source," he told them brightly, "of the
new evil obtained by the Plated Folk. I know now from
whence comes the threat!"
Jon-Tom got to his feet, dusted at himself, and looked
anxiously at the wizard. "Well, what is it?"
"I do not know."
"But you just said... ?"
"Yes, yes, but I do know and yet I don't." The wizard
sounded very tired. "It is a mind. A wonderfully wise mind.
An intelligence of a reach and depth I have never before
encountered, filled with knowledge I cannot fathom. It con-
tains mysteries I do not pretend to understand, but that it is
dangerous and powerful is self-evident."
"That seems clear enough," said Jon-Tom. "What kind of
creature is it? Whose head is it inside?"
"Ah, that is the part I do not know." There was worry and
amazement in Clothahump's voice. "I've never run across a
mind like it. One thing I was able to tell, I think." He
glanced up at the tall human. "It's dead."
Pog hesitated, then said, "But if it's dead, how can it help
da Plated Folk?"
"I know, I know," Clothahump grumbled sullenly, "it
makes no sense. Am I expected to be instantly conversant
with all the mysteries of the Universe!"
"Sorry," said Jon-Tom. "Pog and I only hoped that—"
"Forget it, my boy." The wizard leaned back against the
black wall and waved a weary hand at him. "I learned no
more than I'd hoped to, and hope remains where knowledge
is scarce." He shook his head sadly.
"A mind of such power and ability, yet nonetheless as dead
as the rock of this chamber. Of that I am certain. And yet
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Eejakrat of the Plated Polk has found a means by which he
can make use of that power."
"A zombie," muttered Jon-Tom.
"I do not know the term," said Clothahump, "but I accept
it. I will accept anything that explains this awful contradic-
tion. Sometimes, my boy, knowledge can be more confusing
than mere ignorance. Surely the universe holds still greater
though no more dangerous contradictions than this inventive,
cold mind." He reached a decision.
"Now that I am sensitized to this mind, I am confident we
can locate it. We must find out whose it is and destroy him or
her, for I had no sense of whether the possessor is male or
female."
"But we can't do dat, Master," Pog argued, "because as
you say dis brain is under da control of da great sorcerer
Eejakrat, and Eejakrat stays in Cugluch."
"Capital city of the Plated Folk," Clothahump reminded
Jon-Tom.
"Dat's right enough. So it's obvious dat we can't.. .we
can't..." The words came to a halt as Pog's eyes grew wide
as a lemur's. "No, Master!" he muttered, his voice filled
with dread. "We can't. We can't possibly!"
"On the contrary, famulus, it is quite possible that we can.
Of course, I shall first discuss it with the rest of our
companions."
"Discuss what?" Jon-Tom was afraid he already knew the
answer.
"Why, traveling into Cugluch to find this evil and obliter-
ate it, my boy. What else could a civilized being do?"
"What else indeed." Jon-Tom had resigned himself to
going. Could this Cugluch be worse than the Earth's Throat?
Pog seemed to think so, but then Pog was terrified of his own
shadow.
Clothahump's strength had returned. He slid off the bed,
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started for the doorway. "We must consult the rest of our
party."
"They may not all be in a condition to understand,"
Jon-Tom warned him. "We have generous hosts, you know."
"A night of harmless pleasure is good for the soul now and
then, my boy. Though it should never descend to unconscious-
ness. I am pleased to see that you have retained control of
yourself."
"So far," said Jon-Tom fervently, "but after what you've
just proposed, I may change my mind."
"It will not be so bad," said the wizard, clapping him on
the waist as they swung aside the concealing curtain and
moved out into the tunnel. "There will be some danger, but
we have survived that several times over."
"Yeah, but it's not like an innoculation," Jon-Tom muttered.
"We haven't become immune. We keep taking risks and
sooner or later they've got to catch up with us." He ducked to
avoid a low section of iron ceiling.
"We shall do our best, my boy, to see that it is later."
Pog remained behind, hanging quietly from the oil lamp in
the now empty room. He considered remaining behind
permanently. The Ironclouders would shelter him, he was
sure.
That would mean no transformation, of course. All that
he'd suffered at the wizard's hands, and mouth, would
have been for naught. Also, as the only arboreal of the
group, he knew how they depended on him for reconnaisance
and such.
Besides, better death than life cursed by unrequited love.
He let free of the lamp, dipped in the air, and soared oin
into the tunnel after the two wizards.
There was the anticipated debate and argument the nexl
morning. One by one, as before, the various members of the
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little group were won over by Clothahump's assurances,
obstinacy, and veiled threats.
Their course decided, it was time to ascertain the position
taken during the night by the inhabitants of Ironcloud. Five of
the great owls faced Ihe travelers on the plateau below the
cave city. Two were homed, two pale bam, and one a tiny
hoot, who was smaller than Pog but equal in dignity to his
massive feathered brothers. With them were five lemurs. The
sun was not yet up.
"We do not doubt your seriousness nor the truth you tell,"
Tolafay was saying, "nor the worth of your mission, but still
we doubted whether it was worth breaking a rule of hundreds
of years of noninvolvement in the arguments of others." He
gestured at Ananthos.
"Yet we share such feelings with the inhabitants of the
Scuttleteau and they have nonetheless agreed to help you. So
we will help, too." Murmurs of agreement came from his
companions.
"That's settled, then," said a satisfied Clothahump. "You
will be valuable allies in the coming war and—"
"A moment, please." One of the lemurs stepped forward.
He had a high, stiff collar and light vest above billowing
pantaloons of bright yellow. "We did not say that we'd be
your allies. We said we'd help.
"You asked us to give the Weavers permission to travel
through our country and to provide a route southward through
the mountains so they can reach the Swordsward and then
make their way to the Jo-Troom Gate you speak of. That's
what we'll do. We'll also try and find you a way to the
Greendowns. But we won't fight."
"But I thought—" Jon-Tom began.
"No!" snapped one of the other owls. "Absolutely no. We
simply can't do any more for yooooo. Don't ask it of us."
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"But surely—" A restraining hand touched Talea and she
quieted.
"It is more than we'd hoped for, friends. It will suffice."
Clothahump turned to face Ananthos. "We have the allies we
came to find."
"so you do," said the spider at last, "provided the army
can be assembled in time to make the march."
"I can only hope that it does," the wizard told him
solemnly, "because the fate of several worlds may depend on
it."
"Not Ironctoud," said another of the owls smugly. "Ironcloud
is impregnable to assault by land or air."
"So it is," agreed Caz casually, "but not by magic."
"We'll take our chances," said Tolafay firmly.
"Then there's nothing more to be said." Clothahump
nodded.
Wordlessly the Ironclouders departed, owl and primate
soaring to join their brethren high in the night sky. Great
wings and glowing eyes shone as the night hunters returned in
twos and threes to their black home. They filled the air
between earth and moon.
Another pair lifted from the plateau, heading for interior
darkness and a good, warm day's sleep. Jon-Tom could
only hope those homes would be as invulnerable as their
inhabitants believed from the eventual attacks of the Plated
Polk.
The last of the lemurs stared at them curiously while her
companion owl kicked impatiently at the ground. The sun had
peeked over the eastern crags and those great eyes were
three-quarters closed in half sleep.
"There's one tiling I'd like to know. How do you warmlanders
expect to penetrate Cugluch?"
"Disguise," Clothahump told her confidently.
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"You do not look much like Plated Folk," replied the
lemur doubtfully.
Clothahump shook a finger at her, spoke knowingly. "The
greatest disguise is assurance. We will be protected because
no Plated One would believe our presence. And where
assurance operates, magic is not far behind."
The lemur shrugged. "I think you are all fools, brave
fools, and soon-to-be-dead fools. But we will show the
Weavers the path they require and you the path to your
Deaths." She looked upward. "Your guides come."
.Two owls descended to join them. One motioned to the
waiting Ananthos. The Weaver trembled slightly as he made
his farewells.
"we shall meet at the gate," he told them. "that is, if I
survive this journey, i am not afraid of heights, but I have
never been in a high place where i could not break a fall by
attaching silk to some solid object, you cannot spin from a
cloud."
He climbed on the owl's back, waved legs at them. The
owl took a few steps, flapping mighty wings, and then soared
into the air of morning. He wore dark shades to protect him
from the sunlight.
They watched until the wings became a black line on the
horizon. Then the pair faded even from Caz's view.
The small hoot owl stood muttering to herself nearby. Her
kilt was black, purple, and yellow. "I'm Imanooo," she
informed them brusquely. "Let's get on with this. I'll point
you the way for two days, but that's all. Then you're on
your own."
The remaining lemur mounted his saddle. "I still think
you're all fools, but," he smiled broadly, "many a brave fool
has succeeded where a cautious genius has failed. Fly well."
He saluted with an arm wave as he and his friend rose
skyward.
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Alone in their cold-weather garb, the travelers watched
until the last pairing vanished into the hematite. Then Imanooo
rose and started off to the south, and they followed.
The path where there was no path carried them steadily
lower. The unvarying downhill hike was a welcome change
from the tortuous march to Ironcloud. The day after Imanooo
left them they began to discard their heavy clothing. Soon
they were down among trees and bushes, and snow was only
a fading memory.
Jon-Tom slowed his pace to stay alongside Clothahump.
The wizard was in excellent spirits and showed no ill effects
from the past weeks of marching.
"Sir?"
"Yes, my boy?" Eyes looked up at him through the thick
glasses. Abruptly Jon-Tom felt uncomfortable. It had seemed
so simple a while ago when he'd thought of it, a mere
question. Now it fought to hide in his throat.
"Well, sir," he finally got out, "among my people there's
a certain mental condition."
"Go on, boy."
"It has a common name. It's called a death wish."
"That's interesting," said Clothahump thoughtfully. "I
presume it refers to someone who wishes to die."
Jon-Tom nodded. ' 'Sometimes the person isn't aware of it
himself and it has to be pointed out to him by another. Even
then he may not believe it."
They walked on a while longer before he added, "Sir, no
disrespect intended, but do you think you might have a death
wish?"
"On the contrary, my boy," replied the wizard, apparently
not offended in the least, "I have a life wish. I'm only putting
myself into danger to preserve life for others. That hardly
"I know, sir, but it seems to me that you've taken us from
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one danger to another only to take successively bigger risks.
In other words, the more we survive, the more you seem to
want to chance death."
"A valid contention based solely on the evidence and your
personal interpretation of it," said Clothahump. "You ignore
one thing: I wish to survive and live as much as any of you."
"Can you be certain of that, sir? After all, you've already
lived more than twice a normal human lifetime, a much fuller
life than any of the rest of us." He gestured at the others.
"Would it pain you so much to die?"
"I follow your reasoning, my boy. You're saying that I am
willing to risk death because I've already had a reasonable
life and therefore have less than you to lose."
Jon-Tom didn't reply.
"My boy, you haven't lived long enough to understand
life. Believe me, it is more precious to me now because I
have less of it. I guard every day jealously because I know it
may be my last. I don't have less to lose than you: I have
more to lose."
"I just wanted to be sure, sir."
"Of what? The reasons for my decisions? You can be, boy.
They are founded upon a single motivation: the need to
prevent the Plated Masses from annihilating civilization.
Even if I did want to die, I would not do so until I had
expended every bit of energy in my body to prevent that
conflagration from destroying the warmlands. I might kill
myself if I suffered from the aberration you suggest, but only
after I'd saved everyone else."
"That's good to hear, sir." Jon-Tom felt considerably
relieved.
"There is one thing that has been troubling me a little,
however."
"What's that, sir?"
"Well, it's most peculiar." The wizard looked up at him.
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"But you see, I'm not at all certain that I remember the
formula for preparing our disguises."
Jon-Tom hesitated, frowned. "Surely we can't enter Cugluch
without them, sir?"
"Of course not," agreed Clothahump cheerfully. "I sug-
gest therefore that you consider some appropriate spellsongs.
You have seen one of the Plated Folk. That is what we must
endeavor to look like."
"I don't know if..."
"Try, my boy," said the wizard in a more serious tone,
"for if you cannot think of anything and I cannot remember
the formula, then I fear we will be forced to give up this
Spellsinger 02 - The Hour of the Gate Page 21