Spellsinger

by neetha Napew

  to my satisfaction, though I hope more time isn't required. Still, I have to

  admit that you handled yourself well enough inside the Possum. Clumsy, but

  efficient. Size can make up for a helluva lot."

  Clove and pepper, he thought. Each word was snapped off sharply in the air like

  a string of firecrackers.

  She turned distastefully away from his indelicate stare and asked Mudge wth

  disarming candor, "How soon can we be rid of it?" She jerked a thumb in

  Jon-Tom's bemused direction.

  "I'm afraid we can't, m'love. Clothahump 'imself 'as entrusted 'im t' me tender

  care."

  "Clothahump, the wizard of the Tree?" Again she looked curiously at Jon-Tom.

  "Aye. It seems 'e was castin' about for an otherworldly wizard type and 'e came

  up with this chap Jon-Tom instead. As I said, because I 'appened t' be unlucky

  enough to stumble into this manifestation, I've been ordered t' take care of

  'im. At least until 'e can take better care of 'imself." Mudge raised a paw.

  "On penalty o' curses too 'orrible t' explain, luv. But it 'ain't been too bad.

  'E's a good enough lad, if a trifle naive."

  Jon-Tom was beginning to feel a resurgence of the volatility that had set off

  the riot in the Pearl Possum. "Hey now, people, I'm getting a little tired of

  everyone continually running off my list of disabilities."

  "Shut up and do as you're told," said the woman.

  "Fuck you, sister," he spat back angrily. "How'd you like your backside the same

  color as your hair?"

  Her right hand suddenly sported a sixth finger. The knife gleamed in the dim

  light. It was no longer than her middle finger but twice as broad and displayed

  an unusual double blade.

  "And how'd you like to sing about three octaves higher?"

  "Please now, Talea." Mudge hurriedly interposed himself between them. "Think of

  me, if naught else. 'E's me responsibility. If any 'arm comes to 'im while 'e's

  in my care, Clothahump'll 'ave me 'ide. As to 'is singin' I've 'ad more than

  enough for one night. That's wot started the trouble in the Possum in the first

  place."

  "More's the pity for you then, Mudge." But the blade disappeared with a twist of

  the wrist, vanishing back inside her right sleeve. "I'll truce on it for you...

  for now."

  "I'm not taking any orders from her," Jon-Tom said belligerently.

  "Now, now, mate." Mudge made placating gestures. "No one's said that you must.

  But you're willin' to accept advice, ain't you? That's what I'm 'ere for, after

  all."

  "That's true," Jon-Tom admitted. But he couldn't keep his eyes off the lethal

  little lady Mudge had called Talea. Her temper had considerably mitigated his

  first feelings toward her. She was no less beautiful for their argument, but it

  had become the beauty of a rose sealed in glass. Delicacy and attractiveness

  were still there, but there was no fragrance, and both were untouchable.

  "That's the second time tonight you've shown concern for me, luv." Mudge looked

  at her uncertainly. "First by 'elpin' us flee that unfortunate altercation back

  in the Pearl Possum and now again by respectin' me wishes and makin' peace with

  the lad. I've never known you t' be so solicitous o' my 'ealth or anyone else's

  exceptin' your precious own. So wot's behind the sudden nursemaidin'?"

  "You're right about the first, Mudge. Most of the time you can find your own way

  to hell for all I care." Her voice finally mellowed, and for the first time she

  sounded vulnerable and human.

  "Truth is that I needed some help, fast. The Pearl Possum was the nearest and

  most likely place in which to find it. You were the first one I saw that I knew,

  and considering what was going on in there I didn't have a whole hell of a lot

  of time to be picky. I do need your help." She looked hesitantly past him at

  Jon-Tom. "And so I guess I have to put up with him, too." She walked over to

  Jon-Tom, looked him over sharply.

  "In truth, he's an impressive physical speciman." Jon-Tom stood a little taller.

  "What I need now are strong backs, not brains." He lost an inch.

  "I knew you were needin' something, dear," said Mudge knowl-edgeably. "I

  couldn't see you givin' yourself over t' philanthropy. Jon-Tom, meet Talea. And

  widdershins likewise."

  "Charmed," said Jon-Tom curtly.

  "Yeah, me too." She paused thoughtfully. "So the old magic bugger-in-the-shell

  was looking around for an other-world wizard and got you instead. I can imagine

  what his reaction must have been."

  "I don't need this." Jon-Tom turned away, spoke almost cheerfully. "I don't need

  this at all. I'll make my own damn way!"

  " 'Old on now, mate," said Mudge desperately. "You think o' me, too. Everyone

  think o' poor old Mudge for a change."

  "When did you ever think of anything else?" snorted Talea.

  "Please, luv. Go easy on the poor lad. 'Tis right that you owe 'im nothing and

  likewise meself. But consider, 'e's a whole new world t' try and cope with, and

  you're not makin' it any easier."

  "What have his problems to do with me?" she replied indifferently, but for a

  change left off adding any additional insults.

  "You said that you needed our help," Jon-Tom reminded her. "And I suppose we owe

  you a favor for helping us out of that mess back there." He jerked a hand back

  toward the now distant restaurant. "Or at least for warning us about the police.

  You can have the use of my back without my affection. At least I can use that

  without running my mouth."

  She almost smiled, flipping away hair from her eyes. The oil lamps set her curls

  on fire. "That's fair enough. We've wasted enough time here, and I suppose I've

  wasted most of it. Follow me...."

  They trailed her down the street. No strollers were out this time on so

  miserable a night. Rain dripped off tile and wood roofs, trickled metallically

  down drainpipes and into gutters. Sometimes they passed a sharper, richer echo

  where dripwater plunged into a collection barrel.

  They'd walked several blocks before she turned into another alleyway. Several

  yards into the narrow passage he began to hear a strange yet somehow familiar

  snuffling noise. It sounded like a drunk hog.

  Almost stumbling over something firm and heavy, he looked down and saw to his

  considerable dismay that it was an arm, badly decomposed and with the fur

  falling from forearm and paw. Nude bone projected like soap from one end.

  Mudge and Talea were just ahead. The otter was bending over and examining

  something on the stones. Jon-Tom hurried to join them.

  Two bodies lay sprawled awkwardly across the damp paving, necklaced by puddles

  of rainwater. One was that of a squirrel he assumed by attire to be female. She

  was richly dressed in a pleated gown puffed up like a cloud by a series of lace

  petticoats. Long ruffled sleeves covered each gray-furred arm. Nearby lay a

  feathered, broad-rimmed hat, torn and broken. She was half a foot shorter than

  Talea and her carefully applied face powder and paint were smeared like mud

  across her cheeks.

  Nearby was a fat furry form that he at first thought might be a small beaver but

  that turned out to be another muskrat. An oddly creased tricorne
red hat still

  rested on the motionless head, though it was tilted over the hidden eyes. A pair

  of cracked pince-nez speeta-cles, much like those worn by Clothahump, reflected

  the still, small pools between the cobblestones. The iridescent blue silk suit

  he wore was rich enough to shine even in the dim light of the alley.

  One boot had come off and lay limply near a naked foot. Its rhine-stone-inlaid

  mate lay up against the far wall. Talea ignored it as she rechecked the body

  with professional speed.

  "Blimey, luv, what's all this now?" Mudge's attention was directed nervously

  back toward the narrow plank of light from the street. "I ain't so sure we want

  to be compromisin' ourselves with business of this disreputable nature."

  "Shit, you're compromised just by standing there." Talea heaved at the thick

  silk jacket. "Not that your reputation would suffer. Who are you lying to,

  Mudge; yourself, me, or him?" and she nodded briefly toward the self-conscious

  Jon-Tom. "You know what the cops will do if they find you standing here flapping

  your whiskers."

  "Now Talea, luv--" he began.

  "I think we've exchanged enough pleasantries, otter. I need you for muscle, not

  platitudes.

  "Now I don't object to an occasional mugging, especially when the apple stands

  around begging to be plucked." She was pulling gold buttons off the comatose

  muskrat's trousers. "But murder's not my style. This fat little twerp decided to

  show off and resist, and I'll be damned if that fuzzy harridan he was with

  didn't try to help him. Between the two of them I didn't have much time to get

  selective with the hilt of my sword. So I bashed him proper and then she just

  sort of fainted."

  Mudge moved over to study the fallen lady. While Jon-Tom I i watched, the otter

  knelt and moved her head. There was a dark stain I on the stones and a matching

  one at the back of the furry skull.

  "This one's still bleedin', you know."

  "I didn't mean to hurt anyone." Talea did not sound particularly contrite. "I

  was just trying to keep them off. I told you, she fainted. What the hell was I

  supposed to do, dive underneath and break her fall?"

  Mudge moved away and performed a similar examination of the muskrat. "Now why

  would you 'ave t' do that, luv, when these gentle rocks 'ave done such a neat

  job of it for you?" he said sardonically. His paws moved over the muskrat's

  face. "Still breathin', the two of 'em. Bloody lucky you are." He looked up at

  her.

  "Right then. What is it you want of us?"

  She finally finished her scavenging, gestured back toward the street. "I've got

  a wagon tied around the corner on Sorbarlio Close. If I'd left it alley-opposite

  it would've blocked traffic and worse, drawn attention to this little drama.

  Besides, it's too wide to fit in the alley entrance.

  "Now, I can't carry that fat little bugger by myself. By the time I could drag

  the two of them to the Close some nosy-body's sure to notice me and ask

  questions I couldn't answer. Even if I got lucky I'm not sure I could heave

  these two bloated pumpkins up into the wagon."

  Mudge nodded sagely. "That's for us, then. Jon-Tom?"

  Jon-Tom's head had finally cleared of smoke and drink, but plenty of confusion

  still remained. Things had happened awfully fast and his thoughts were running

  into one another.

  "I don't know." He was also worriedly watching the street. Foul-fighting police

  might appear at any minute, and what Talea had told Mudge about them being

  guilty by their mere presence at the scene of the crime had a transworldly ring

  of truth to it.

  "I'm not sure this is what Clothahump had in mind when he asked you to educate

  me."

  " 'Tis a fine innocent you are, mate. As you of all people ought t' know, life's

  incidents are dictated by fate and not neat plannin'. We can't stay 'ere

  jabberin' all night, lest some idle patrol stumble on us. If you think the

  copfolk were hard on those poor innocent brawlers, consider wot they're likely

  t' do t' those they think 'ave assaulted respectable citizens. Or be it then so

  much different where you come from?"

  "No," he replied, "I think they'd react about the same as here."

  Mudge had moved to slip an arm around the waist of the unconscious

  squirrelquette, then flipped her with a whistle over his shoulders. "I'll take

  charge o' this one," he said, stumbling.

  "Thought you might," snorted Talea. "Here, let me help." She caught the lady's

  legs just as the overburdened Mudge was about to lose his balance completely,

  the looked back at Jon-Tom.

  "Don't just stand there gawking like a kid at a treepeep nook. Put that great

  gangling self of yours to work."

  Jon-Tom nodded, knelt, and managed to get his arms underneath the snoring,

  bubbling muskrat shape. The creature was as heavy as he appeared, and the weight

  made Jon-Tom stagger. Working the mass around he finally got the rotund burden

  in a fireman's carry.

  "Truth, 'tis muscles the lad 'as, if not yet overmuch common sense," Mudge

  observed. "Does 'e not, lass?"

  "Let's get on with it," she said curtly.

  On reaching the end of the alley they hesitated. Talea studied the street to the

  right while Mudge cautiously checked out the other end. Nothing was visible in

  the nebulous lamplight save cobblestones and lonely clumps of garbage. The night

  mist had thickened somewhat from earlier in the evening and bestowed on the

  fugitives a blessing beyond price.

  Jon-Tom hurried out after them, the globular body of the muskrat bouncing

  slightly on his shoulders. He felt something warm on his cheek. At first he

  thought it was blood, but it turned out to be only saliva dripping from the

  victim's gaping mouth. He pushed the drooling head farther aside and

  concentrated on keeping close enough to the others to insure he wouldn't lose

  track of them in the fog.

  His feet were carrying him along a course of events he seemed powerless to

  alter. As he jogged up the street, he considered his present condition.

  In the short time he'd been in Lynchbany he'd nearly been assaulted by a beggar,

  had taken part in a distressingly violent riot, and was presently serving as an

  accessory to assault, robbery, and possibly murder. He decided firmly that as

  soon as circumstances permitted he would have to make his way back to

  Clothahump's Tree, with or without Mudge's assistance. There he would plead with

  the wizard to try sending him home, no matter the cost. He could not stand

  another day of this.

  But though he did not know it, he was destined to spend rather more time than

  that. Forces far greater than anything he could imagine continued to gather, the

  little sounds his boots made in the street puddles faint echoes of the thunder

  to come....

  VII

  Eventually they turned a corner onto another street. Mudge and Talea heaved the

  motionless form of the squirrelquette onto the back of a low-slung buckboard.

  Clicking sounds like thick wire brushing against glass came to them. They froze,

  waited in damp silence. But the wagon they heard did not turn down their street.

  "Hurry up!"
Talea urged Jon-Tom. She turned and snapped at Mudge, "Quit that and

  let's get out of here."

  Mudge removed his hand from beneath the squirrelquette's dress as Jon-Tom bent

  his head and shoulders to dump the muskrat. That unfortunate landed with a dull

  thump in the wagon. Despite Mudge's insistence that both victims were still

  alive and breathing, the musk-rat felt very dead to the worried Jon-Tom.

  That was now a major concern. He thought he might be able to talk his way out of

  being in the same wagon with a couple of robbery victims, but if either one of

  them died and they were stopped by the police he doubted even Clothahump would

  be able to help him.

  Talea was rapidly pulling a thick blanket of some woven gray material over the

  bodies. Then the three of them were running around to the front seat of the

  wagon.

  There wasn't enough room there for all of them on the down-sized platform. Talea

  had grabbed the reins and Mudge had already mounted alongside her, so Jon-Tom

  had no choice but to vault the wagon rail and sit in the bed behind them.

  " 'Tis best anyway, mate." Mudge smiled sympathetically. "I know the wood's

  'ard, but as big as you are we don't want to draw any more attention than we can

  get away with. Snuggle yourself down low and we won't."

  Talea gave a flip of the reins and shouted a soft "Hup!" and they were on their

  way. Just in time, too. As they rumbled down the street another rider passed

  them close.

  Despite his exhaustion and confusion Jon-Tom's interest was aroused. He barely

  had time for a glance at the mist-shrouded rider.

  A white-faced, leather-clad rabbit was mounted on a slim lizard traveling on all

  fours. The reptile had a long snout with two short tusks protruding upward from

  just back of the nostrils. Its eyes were searchlight bright and yellow with

  black slit pupils.

  The rider sat in a saddle that was securely attached by multiple straps to the

  lizard's neck and belly, the extra ties necessary because of the animal's

  peculiar twisting, side-to-side method of travel. It gave a snakelike appearance

  to the motion. The long tail was curled up in a spiral and fastened to the

  reptilian rear with a decorative silver scroll. Blunt claws appeared to have

  been trimmed close to the quick.

  As he watched them vanish down the street, he thought that the rider must be