Chorus Skating

by Alan Dean Foster

  Mudge closed his eyes, pulled his feathered cap down over his face, and crossed his hands over his middle. “Oi, why ain’t I surprised?”

  “Then that is your honor,” Jon-Tom commented thoughtfully. The chords tickled his right ear and he brushed away the impatient music.

  “Yes.”

  “Actually,” Karaukul muttered softly, “we were sort of volunteered.” He did not sound especially ennobled.

  “There was a lottery to decide which of us in the royal service would be so honored,” the Lieutenant explained.

  “I bet,” Mudge murmured knowingly.

  “We will rescue the Princess.” But there was more determination and assurance in the Lieutenant’s voice than in his face.

  “This Manzai,” said Jon-Tom. “Is he holed up in some kind of fort, or walled compound, or something?”

  “We know nothing of his abode, or what may be his household strength. He is a shadowy figure in this part of the world, and we are far from Mashupro. The citizens of that worthy community prefer the coast to the pestilences and dangers of the interior, for which one cannot blame them.” The Lieutenant stood tall. “We will press on, to glory or death.”

  “That’s wot they always say.” Mudge scrunched back against his log.

  Unable to ignore the otter’s gibes any longer, the indignant Naike glared in his direction. “At least our cause is noble. Something which, from the look and sound of you, is alien to your personality.”

  “They ain’t very edible, are noble causes.” Unperturbed, the otter peered out from beneath the brim of his cap. “I find ’em damn hard to digest, an’ not particularly nutritious.”

  Naike let out a snort that was more of a squeak. “I would expect that from an otter, a tribe noted for its narcissism and laziness. I’ve yet to encounter one with half the fortitude and determination of a mongoose.”

  Eyes flashing, Mudge sat up quickly. “Is that so? That’s interestin’, comin’ from someone with a striped behind. I’ll ’ave you know that—”

  “Not now, Mudge,” said Jon-Tom irritably.

  The officer was willing to drop it. “I do not have time to squander in frivolous argument.”

  “Princess, eh?” Mudge switched mental gears easily. Visions of a lissome mongoose beauty swathed in silks and ever so grateful to her rescuers pirouetted through his brain. Because of their official position, the noble soldiers of Harakun would doubtless be constrained from accepting anything more than her formal thanks, while he would be under no such restrictions. Thrilled by her rescue and anxious, perhaps even desperate to show her gratitude to someone, the beauteous Aleaukauna would have no one to devote herself to but himself.

  Under those conditions it would be highly impolite to do anything other than render what assistance he could.

  “I expect it ’tis a bit o’ a noble enterprise. Under such circumstances we’d be glad to ’elp out… in the background, o’ course,” he added hastily. “We wouldn’t want to divert any o’ the glory from those on whom it ought properly to fall.”

  Jon-Tom’s brows rose. “That’s what I was going to say. Mudge, this isn’t like you.”

  The otter adopted a hurt mien. “Wot, can’t me own noble instincts come to the fore every now an’ again?”

  “Sure. It’s just that over the years I don’t seem to recall ever encountering any.”

  “You always were a bit shortsighted, mate.” Mudge indicated the rosy miasma drifting lazily behind his friend. “Wot about the bloomin’ beatitudes?”

  “You know,” murmured Naike, “I was going to ask you about that.”

  “Yes, what sort of mischief is that?” Heke wanted to know.

  Jon-Tom waved his fingers at the notes, which responded by chiming softly. “A lost piece of music. At least, that’s what we think it is. For some reason it wants us to follow it.”

  “Not necessarily a noble quest,” commented Naike speculatively, “but surely an unselfish one.” He reached toward the cloud, which drew back from his fingers, ringing softly. The mongoose eyed Jon-Tom with new respect.

  “Perhaps you are in truth what you say you are. A spellsinger, or any sort of sorcerer, would be a most useful ally. We are grateful for any assistance you can render us.”

  At last! Jon-Tom thought. Something to test their long-dormant abilities. Rescuing a kidnapped princess was a cause both difficult and worthy. It was more than he’d hoped for when they’d first set out to trail the beckoning music.

  “We’ll do what we can.” Once more he extended a hand. The officer shook it, his own paw covered in short beige fuzz.

  Behind them, the three soldiers were evaluating their new allies.

  “You think the human’s telling the truth?” Heke wondered aloud. “About being a magician, I mean?”

  “I expect we’ll find out.” Pauko stirred the pot. “Most surely that’s a strange instrument he carries.”

  “At least they can both fight,” declared Karaukul. “Though in a tight place I don’t think I’d want that otter guarding my back.”

  “They strike me as a little old for this,” Heke observed.

  Karaukul shrugged. “Ofttimes experience is a fair tradeoff for speed and strength, but that they have as well. Did you see how smoothly they fought together?”

  Pauko squeaked softly. “I expect we’ll find out more about that, too.” He tasted of the stew and sighed. “I wish we had a little cumin, and some cardamom as well.”

  Karaukul passed him a small wooden cylinder. “Use some salt. And remember, if that doesn’t do it, there’s always more salt.” Pauko essayed a friendly nip in his companion’s direction.

  Naike regarded the tall human. “For our mission to succeed we will need to employ stealth as well as daring. In that the aid of a spellsinger could prove more valuable than any sword.”

  “Like I said, I’ll do what I can.” Jon-Tom reached back for the duar. “If you’re still unsure, I could give a little demonstra—” A hand forestalled him.

  “That’s all right, mate.” Mudge had risen like lightning from his resting place. “I’m sure there’ll be opportunity soon enough to show your skills.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” To the otter’s great relief, his friend passed on the notion.

  “How wondrous are the consequences of a chance meeting. As you’ve agreed to share our destiny, so too must you partake of our poor hospitality. Come and eat.”

  While they dined on Pauko’s surprisingly adept stew, Jon-Tom regaled the soldiers with stories of his and Mudge’s exploits. In return, the mongooses gave freely of what they had learned and experienced on the long, arduous journey in search of their Princess, as well as describing the beauties of their homeland.

  Chapter 7

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING the rescue expedition, its number strengthened by two, broke camp and struck out in what the mongooses had been told by a nervous trapper was the approximate direction of Manzai’s dwelling. Humming briskly, Mudge trailed along in the rear, working to convince himself that the potential rewards of this little digression would somehow far exceed the actual risks he might have to take.

  He stuck protectively close to Jon-Tom. The soldiers thought the attention the otter paid to his friend’s back admirable. What they didn’t know was that Mudge chose to keep close because Jon-Tom’s bulk would be first to catch any arrows or bolts or spears hurled from ambush.

  Since they had no way of knowing when they might stumble into their destination, or what might lie between it and them, no one spoke above a whisper. At that, there was little in the way of casual conversation. Every man, mongoose, and otter was concerned with what lay directly ahead as well as in the immediate vicinity. Any abrupt movement within the dense green morass through which they were advancing was looked upon with suspicion, any sudden sound a cause for caution.

  It was while pondering the possible edibility of a bright green and black lizard that it suddenly struck Mudge with great force that something truly horri
ble had happened to him over the years. Something more devastating and awful than he ever could have imagined, worse even than having his fur start to fall out. It hit him like a physical shock, leaving him terrified and wondering how he was ever going to be able to handle it. The force of the realization threatened to strike him dumb.

  In spite of his strenuous and ongoing attempts at prevention, despite his best efforts down through the years to see that it never happened, in spite of iron determination, it seemed that he had developed a conscience.

  “Mudge, all of a sudden you look awful.” There was real concern in Jon-Tom’s voice. “Are you all right?”

  The otter braced a palm against a tree. “I… I’ll be okay, mate. I think.” He smiled wanly. “Got a little dizzy for a minim, there. Somethin’ I swallowed.”

  Don’t give in, he urged himself. You can fight this ’orrible development. ’Tain’t irrevocable, it ain’t. Feeling better, he straightened and resumed walking. Why, it weren’t nothin’ more than a crab clamped on a toe! Shake it off, fling it from you!

  But try as he would, it clung to him like a leech, bedeviling his thoughts and causing him to worry more about the Princess’s fate than his own. It was a revolting development that left him nauseous and reeling, until he finally vowed to deal with the emergency at hand and take care of the other later, in more amenable surroundings.

  “Seems to me,” he propounded much later that day, after hours of trekking through trailless wilderness, “that we’re a long ways from anyplace.” Bent back by Karaukul, a branch whipped toward his face. He dodged it by the simple expedient of bending the upper half of his body sideways. “You bottle-brush tails sure you know where you’re ’eadin’?”

  Heke was closest. “We have been tracking the Princess Aleaukauna for months. Of all who were sent in search of her, only we have been able to follow her this far. Have some confidence, river-runner.”

  With his short sword Pauko was slashing methodically at the dank, clinging vegetation. “Are you in a rush, otter? Would you like to approach this Manzai’s abode by the main path, where he is most likely to have posted any scouts and outriders?”

  “D’you think I’m completely ignorant in these matters?”

  “Of course not,” put in Lieutenant Naike from up ahead. “Perhaps only a little out of practice.”

  The otter’s gaze narrowed. “That comment wouldn’t be a reference to me age, would it?”

  “Keep your voice down.” Jon-Tom bent slightly to clear an overhanging branch without having to push on it and rustle the leaves.

  “Why? They bloody well like to talk so much, they can bleedin’ sure listen to wot I ’ave to say.”

  “And I’m sure they will.” His tall friend resorted to placating motions. “But not right now. I can see something that might be a structure up ahead.”

  That silenced the otter. A little ways on, the vegetation thinned slightly and he could see as clearly as the others.

  Surrounded by flawlessly manicured grounds, the sprawling complex of single-storied buildings crowned a gentle bulge in the earth. There were flowers and rock gardens, bubbling fountains and diminutive waterfalls. Meticulously laid paths of colored pebbles and ground stone lay like flattened snakes amid the cube grass. The residence radiated a peace and contentment that seemed wholly out of keeping with Manzai’s ferocious reputation.

  Of course, he reminded himself, all the open space would also allow anyone inside the buildings a sweeping view in every direction.

  Fanciful coils of purple topiary flanked a pair of entrances, while freshwater mother-of-pearl flashed from shuttered window screens. The many roofs were fashioned of sunheart tiles and were sharply peaked to cope with the tropical downpours the region doubtless experienced on a regular basis. There was nothing resembling a wall, a moat, or camouflaged barrier of any kind. Only the comparative absence of windows suggested even a slight concern for internal security.

  To all outward intents and appearances a casual visitor could step onto any of the various pathways and stroll right up to the main entrance before being challenged. Even then one would have to knock or ring a hidden bell, because there were no guards or other attendants visible, either.

  The gentle slope of the hill masked the size of the complex. Covered hallways connected the numerous structures. Several of these were large, but hardly ostentatious. There were no elaborate woodcarvings, no flash use of gold or other precious metals. For a suspect warlord, Manzai presented a face to the world that could only be called subdued, if not positively serene.

  Surely the pacific aspect of the domicile’s exterior must belie the true nature of those who dwelled within, Jon-Tom told himself. Having expected to encounter spike-topped parapets and towers notched with arrow ports, he was more than a little taken aback.

  From within the dense undergrowth they watched silently for an hour without observing a single guard or patrol.

  “You sure we’ve got the right place?” he finally whispered to Lieutenant Naike.

  “It fits all the descriptions that were given us.” The mongoose’s voice was a sibilant murmur. “Poisonous snakes frequently come cloaked in appealing colors.” Jon-Tom could seen his lean muscles rippling beneath the soft fur. “Somewhere within, the Princess Aleaukauna is a prisoner. It matters not whether she wears chains of gold or brass.”

  “How to free her.” Karaukul loomed over his companions, though he was still a good foot shorter than Jon-Tom. “I have to say, sir, that if this is truly a fortress, it is the most innocent in appearance I have ever seen.”

  “Indeed,” the Lieutenant admitted. “Hard though I’ve searched, I have seen nothing to challenge an approach.”

  “That’s when you ’ave to be ten times as bleedin’ careful.”

  Everyone turned to look in Mudge’s direction. “Innocence is the cleverest defense of all.”

  Heke frowned as he studied the complex. “What defense? I see no defense of any kind.”

  The otter barked softly. “Which is doubtless just wot those inside want any unannounced visitors who might be inclined toward a little mischief-makin’ to think.” He waved at the interlinked structures. “Why, this ’ole setup practically invites attack.

  “Now, I’ll wager you lot know your business, which means you know how to span a moat or ladder a wall, avoid a pit-drop or tunnel under a rampart. Specified solutions for specific fortifications. But this dump is slippery, it ’tis. Like a lass I once knew, you can’t get a grip on ’er. No, no, me lads. The less danger you see, the more you ’ave to watch out for.”

  Naike turned a thoughtful gaze on Jon-Tom. “What think you, spellsinger?”

  “I think that in matters like this,” Jon-Tom replied readily, “it’s a good idea to trust Mudge’s instincts. He’s been in more scrapes than any live person I know.”

  “Better always,” the otter added, “to be cowardly and cautious and alive than brave an’ bold an’ dead.”

  “Honestly spoken,” Pauko avowed.

  Mudge squinted at the mongoose. “You can say that for seconds, dirt-digger. Ask yourself who your Princess would rather ’ave rescuin’ ’er: a live coward or a dead ’ero.”

  “Then we must prove ourselves equally wily.” Naike regarded the otter. “What would you suggest?”

  Mudge was taken aback by the soldier’s deference. “Wot, me? You want my advice? And ’ere I was thinkin’ you were against consultin’ with ’istorical relics like meself.”

  “Put a lid on it, Mudge,” Jon-Tom instructed his companion.

  “Now, mate, let me enjoy this a little, wot?”

  “I have no time to waste on sarcasm.” Naike turned away from the otter.

  “Take ’er easy there, guv.” Mudge hastened to make peace with the officer. “Now then—just because there ain’t no fortifications visible on the outside don’t mean the inside’s all embossed wall coverin’s an’ thick-weave carpets. Since we don’t ’ave a clue as to the true nature o’ the interior,
an’ since your informants don’t seem to ’ave been particularly ’elpful on that little matter, we need to lay our ’ands on someone who knows what we needs to know.”

  Heke glanced back toward the complex. “Abduct someone? But there are no guards patrolling whom we could take.”

  Mudge nodded agreeably. “Clever, wot? You can’t extract information from nobody, can you?” He slapped at an overhanging vine. “But someone’s got to keep this creepin’ green gook at bay. That cube grass don’t trim itself an’ these branches don’t die back out o’ deference to the local aesthetics.”

  “Your meaning is clear.” Naike contemplated their next move. “We must curb our impatience … and wait.”

  Jon-Tom shifted the bulk of the duar against his back. “It’s taken you months to get this far. You can hold off a little longer.”

  The Lieutenant nodded in agreement. “Where would be a good spot to place ourselves, do you think?”

  “As completely out o’ sight o’ the majority o’ the buildings as possible,” Mudge volunteered helpfully.

  Slinking back into the swamp, they worked their way around to the north side of the complex as quietly as possible.

  There they spent a fitful afternoon and night, sleeping in shifts so that there was always someone keeping an eye on the buildings. It was only after they had concluded a dry and (despite Pauko’s best efforts) uninspiring breakfast that a wooden panel in the rear of the nearest structure slid aside and, for the first time, a figure showed itself. It wore a simple, embroidered cloak. Though it employed neither tools nor magic, it made rapid progress at trimming down the cube lawn and removing unsightly weeds.

  “A goat,” observed Karaukul.

  “Why not a goat?” The Lieutenant pressed close to his fellow soldiers. “Who better to trim the grasses?”

  “But why only one?” Jon-Tom wondered as he watched the ungulate operate.

  “We only see one,” Mudge responded. “For all we knows there may be ’alf a dozen others workin’ the far reaches o’ the landscapin’. But one’ll do us.”