Spellsinger

by neetha Napew

  trying to beat each other to death.

  "Bugger me for a fag ferret!" Mudge was shouting gleefully. "Imagine seein' you

  'ere!" He turned, panting, to find his friends staring dumbfoundedly at him."

  'Ere now, you chaps don't know who this be, do you?" He whacked the rabbit on

  the back once more. "Introduce yourself, you vagrant winter coat!"

  The rabbit removed his monocle carefully and cleaned it with a dry sleeve. "I am

  Caspar di Lorca di l'Omollia di los Enansas Giterxos. However," and he slipped

  the now sparkling eyepiece back in place, "you may all call me Caz."

  He frowned as he examined his silk stockings and pants. "You must please excuse

  my dreadful appearance, but circumstances compelled that I exit hastily and by

  unexpected aquatic route from my most recent method of conveyance."

  "Good riddance ta 'em," snorted Pog, giving the horizon the finger.

  "Ah, the aerial disruption that facilitated my departure." The rabbit watched as

  Pog tested his repaired wing. "It was because of your arrival that I was able to

  take leave so unbloodily, my airborne friend. Though I had little time for

  extraneous observation I saw the disgusting manner in which you were treated. It

  was rather like my own situation."

  Clothahump had little time for individual tales of woe, no matter how nicely

  embroidered. "Talea said that we would treat you fairly, stranger. So we shall.

  I must tell you immediately that I am a wizard and that," he pointed at Jon-Tom,

  "is an otherworldly wizard. With two wizards confronting you, you dare not lie.

  Now then, be good enough to tell us exactly why you jumped off that boat and why

  several members of its crew chased you into the water themselves?"

  "Surely the sad details of my unfortunate situation would only bore you, wizened

  sir."

  "Try me." Clothahump wagged a warning finger at the rabbit. "And remember what I

  said about telling the truth."

  Caz looked around. He was cut off from the rest of the shore. Two humans of

  enormous size towered expectantly over him. If the turtle was no wizard, he was

  clearly convinced he was one.

  "Best do as 'Is Smartship says, mate," Mudge told him." 'E's a true wizard as 'e

  says. Besides," the otter hunkered down on his haunches against a smooth section

  of sand, "I'm curious meself."

  "There's not much to relate." Caz moved over to their smoking camp fire and

  continued to dry himself. "It was in the nature of a childish dispute over a

  game of chance."

  "That sounds about right." Talea grinned tightly. "They did throw you overboard,

  then?"

  The rabbit smiled slightly, turned, and shoved his tail end toward the fire.

  "Sadly, they would not have been content with that. I fear they had somewhat

  more lethal designs on my person. I was forced to fend them off until your

  friend with the wings momentarily distracted them, thus enabling me to enter the

  river intact. Though I first tried my best to reason with them."

  "Yeah," said Pog from nearby, "I saw how ya was reasoning wid dem." He flapped

  experimentally, rose a few feet into the air. "Dey reasoned ya all over da

  ship!"

  "Ignorant peddlars of trash and quasi-pirates," said Caz huffily. He studied his

  sodden lacework in evident distress. "I fear they have caused me to ruin my

  attire."

  "What did they catch you cheating at," asked Flor casually, "cards?"

  "I beg your pardon, vision of heaven, but that is an accusation so vile I cannot

  believe it fell from the lips of one so magnificent as to constitute a monument

  to every standard of beauty in the universe."

  "It fell," she told him.

  "I never cheat at cards. I have no need to, being something of an expert at

  their manipulation."

  "Which means they caught you cheating at dice," Talea said assuredly.

  "I fear so. My expertise with the bones does not match my skill at cards."

  Talea laughed. "Meaning it's a damnsight harder to hide a die up your sleeve

  than a card. No wonder your shirt boasts so much lace."

  The rabbit looked hurt, ran fingers through the fur on his forehead and then up

  one ear. "I had hoped to find refuge. Instead I am subject to constant

  ridicule."

  "Truth, you mean."

  Caz readied another reply, but Flor interrupted him. "Never you mind. We're all

  busy showing each other how tough we can be. We'll just have to make sure not to

  gamble with you."

  "Where such loveliness is present, I never gamble," he informed her. Flor looked

  nonplussed.

  "Well, you're well out o' it, mate," observed Mudge. "From the look o' you,

  squelchy as a fish or not, you've done right well since the last we met."

  "I recall that encounter clearly." Now the rabbit was cleaning his buckled

  shoes. "If I remember correctly, that was also an occasion that demanded a hasty

  departure."

  High otter-laugh whistled over the water. "I'll never forget it, guv. The look

  on that poor banker clerk's face when 'e found out 'ow 'e'd been duked!" Their

  voices blended as they reminisced.

  Talea listened for a few minutes, then walked to the water's edge. Flor was

  sitting there, watching the two furry friends converse.

  "Otherworlder," Talea began, "that Caz had a certain look in his eye when he was

  talking to you. I know his type. Fast talk, fast action, fast departure. You

  watch yourself."

  Flor looked up, then stood. She shaded the comparatively diminutive Talea.

  "Thanks for the advice, but I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself.

  Comprende?"

  "Size and wise don't necessarily go together," the redhead said. "I was just

  giving you fair warning."

  "Thanks for your concern."

  "Just remember one thing about him." Talea nodded toward the chattering Caz.

  "He'll probably screw anything that walks and likely a few things that don't.

  Old Mudge is a talker, but this one's a doer. You can tell."

  "I'm sure I can rely on your experienced judgment," replied Flor evenly. She

  moved away before Talea could ask exactly what the last comment meant.

  "That is my recent history," the rabbit was saying. He examined the otter's

  companions. "What then are you bound to, old friend? This does not appear to me

  to be a typical robber band, though if such is their wont I daresay they would

  be efficient at it. Those are two of the biggest humans I've ever seen. And the

  turtle called the man an 'otherworldly' wizard."

  "I don't wonder at your wonderin', mate," said Mudge. " 'Tis all part o' the

  strangest tale ever a 'alf-senile wizard wove. I'd give me left incisor if I'd

  never o' become involved with this bunch." His voice had dropped to a whisper.

  "Now don't you go botherin' yourself about it. You can't 'elp me. You get on

  your way afore 'is 'ard-shelled and 'ard-'eaded wizardship there conscripts you

  also. 'E's a no-nonsense sorcerer 'e is, and 'e's dragged us all off on some

  bloody crusade to save the world. Don't think o' doubtin' 'is magic, for 'e's

  the real article, 'e is, not some carnival fakir. The tall 'uman man with the

  slightly stupid expression, 'im I still ain't figured out. 'E seems as naive

  sometimes as a squallin' cub, but I've seen with me own ey
es the magic 'e can

  work. 'E's a spellsinger."

  "What about the tall human woman. Is she a sorceress?"

  "Not that she's shown so far," said Mudge thoughtfully. "I don't think she is.

  Sure is built, though."

  "Ah, my friend, you have no appreciation for the arts of higher learning. Even

  in our brief exchange I could tell that she is of a noble order of initiates on

  whom high intellectual honors are bestowed."

  "Like I said," reiterated the otter, "she sure is built."

  Caz shook his head dolefully. "Will you never lift your thoughts from the

  gutter, friend Mudge?"

  "I like it in the gutter," was the response. " 'Tis warm and friendly down

  there, and you meet up with all manner o' interestin' folk. What's 'appened t'

  me since I made the mistake o' temporarily comin' out o' the gutter is that I

  was stuck as wet-nurse t' the lad, and now I've got meself sort o' swept along a

  course I can't change or swim out of. As I've said afore, mate, the company is

  nice but the situation sucks. Shssh, be quiet, an' watch your words. 'Ere 'e

  comes now."

  Clothahump had waddled over to them. Now he looked sorrow-ingly down at Mudge.

  "My dear otter," he said, peering over his spectacles, "do you never stop to

  consider that one who is capable of calling up elemental forces from halfway

  across the universe is also quite able to hear what is being said only a few

  yards behind him?"

  Mudge looked startled. "You 'eard everythin', then?"

  "Most everything. Oh, don't look like a frightened infant. I'm not going to

  punish you for expressing in private an opinion you've made no secret of in

  public." The otter relaxed slightly.

  "I didn't imagine you might 'ave a 'earin' spell set on yourself, Your

  Niceness."

  "I didn't," explained the wizard. "I simply have very good hearing. A

  compensation perhaps for my weak eyesight." He regarded the watchful Caz. "You,

  sir, you have heard what our mutual friend thinks. Allow me to explain further,

  and then see if you think our 'crusade' is so insane."

  He proceeded to give the rabbit a rundown on both their purpose and progress.

  When he'd finished, Caz looked genuinely concerned. "But of course if what you

  say is imminent, then I must join your company."

  "Wot?" Mudge looked stunned, and his whiskers twitched uncontrollably.

  "That's damn decent of you," said Jon-Tom. "We can use all the help we can get."

  "It simply seems to me," said the rabbit slowly, "that if the sorcerer here is

  correct, and I have no reason to doubt him, then the world as we know it will be

  destroyed unless we do our best to help prevent the coming catastrophe. That

  strikes me as quite an excellent cause to commit oneself to. Yes, I shall be

  honored to join your little expedition and give what assistance I may."

  "You're daft!" Mudge shook his head in despair. "Downright balmy. The water's

  seeped into your brain."

  "Idiot," was all Pog said, confirming Mudge's assessment of Caz's action. But

  there were congratulations and thanks from Clothahump and the two otherworldly

  humans.

  Even Talea ventured a grudging kind of admiration. "Not many people around

  who'll do the honorable thing these days."

  "That's true of at least one other world, too," added Flor tentatively.

  "It is sad, but honor is a dying attribute." Caz put a paw over his heart. "I

  can but do my slight best to help restore it."

  "We're certainly glad to have you with us." Clothahump was clearly overwhelmed

  by this first voluntary offer to help. "Do you have a sword or something?"

  "Alas," said the rabbit, spreading his paws, "I have nothing but what you see.

  If I can procure a weapon I will naturally carry it, though I have found that my

  most efficient methods of disarming an opponent involve the employment of facile

  words and not sharp points."

  "We need sword arms, not big mouths," grumbled Talea.

  "There are times, head and heart of fire, when a large mouth can smother the

  best attack an antagonist can mount. Do not be so quick to disparage that which

  you do not possess."

  "Now look here, are you calling me dumb, you fuzz-faced son of... !"

  Clothahump stepped between them. "I will not tolerate fighting among allies.

  Save your fury for the Plated Folk, who will absorb all you can muster." He

  suddenly looked very tired.

  "Please, no more insult-mongering. Not direct," and he glared at Talea, "or

  veiled," and he gianced over his shell at Caz.

  "I shall endeavor to control an acid tongue," said the rabbit dutifully.

  "I'll keep my mouth shut if he does the same," Talea muttered.

  "Good. Now I suggest we all relax and enjoy the midday meal. Have you eaten

  recently, sir?"

  The rabbit shook his head. "I fear I had to depart before lunch. This has not

  been my day for timing."

  "Then we will eat, and wait...."

  XVI

  But no other vessel appeared while they ate. Nor all the rest of that day or the

  morning of the next.

  "In truth, we passed much commerce moving downstream toward the Glittergeist,"

  Caz informed them, "but practically none save ourselves moving in the other

  direction. The winds are capricious this time of year. Not many shipowners are

  willing to pay the expense of poling a cargo all the way up the Tailaroam. Good

  polers are too expensive. They make profit most uncertain.

  "We shall be fortunate to see another ship moving upstream, and even if we

  should, there's no guarantee they'd have room aboard for so many passengers. My

  vessel was quite crowded and I was the only noncrewmember aboard." He spat

  delicately at the sand. "A distinction I should have avoided."

  Clothahump sighed. He struggled to his feet and trundled to the water's edge.

  After a long stare at the surface, he nodded and told them, "This part of the

  Tailaroam is wide and deep. It should be full of docile but fast-swimming

  salamanders. They will be safer and cheaper than any ship." He cleared his

  throat. "I will call several from the deeps to carry us."

  He raised short arms over the gently lapping water, opened his mouth, and looked

  very confused. "At least, I believe I will. That spell..." He began searching

  the drawers in his plastron. "Salamanders... salamanders... Pog!"

  The bat appeared, hovered in front of him. "Don't ask me, boss. I don't know

  where ya put it, either. I don't tink I ever remember hearin' about it. When was

  da last time ya had ta use it? Maybe ya can goose me memory if not your own."

  The wizard looked thoughtful. "Let me see... oh yes, it was about a hundred

  years ago, I think."

  Pog shook his head. "Sorry, Master. I wasn't around."

  "Damn it," Clothahump muttered in frustration, still sorting through his shell,

  "it has to be in here someplace."

  Jon-Tom turned his attention to the water. Everyone's attention was on the

  wizard. He swung the duar around from his back, experimented with the strings.

  Notes floated like Christmas ornaments over the surface.

  "Allow me, sir," he said importantly, watching out of the corner of an eye to

  see if Flor was paying attention.

  "What, again?"

  He waded
ankle-deep out into the water. It swirled expectantly about his boots.

  "Why not? Didn't I do well the last tune we needed transportation?" Yes, Flor

  was definitely watching him now.

  "You did well indeed, boy, but by accident."

  "Not entirely accident. We needed transportation, I called for it, we got it.

  The outlines were a little different, that's all. I should have more control

  over it this time."

  "Well... if you think you're ready." Clothahump sounded uncertain.

  "Ready as I can be."

  "Then you know a proper salamander song?"

  "Uh... not exactly. Maybe if you'd describe one."

  "We should need six of them," the turtle began. "Pog has his own transportation.

  Salamanders are about twelve feet long, including tail. They have shiny gray

  bodies tending to white on their bellies, and their backs and sides are covered

  with red and yellow splotches. They have small but sharp teeth, long claws on

  webbed feet, and are dangerous only when threatened. If you can induce them up,

  I can put a control spell on them that will allow us to manage them all the way

  to Polastrindu." He added under his breath, "Know that stupid thing's around

  here somewhere."

  "Twelve feet long, gray to white with red and yellow spots, claws and teeth but

  dangerous only when threatened," Jon-Tom muttered. He was stalling for time,

  aware of everyone's eyes on him. "Let's see... something by Simon and Garfunkle

  maybe? No, that's not right. Zepplin, Queen, Boston... damn. There was a song by

  the Moody Blues... no, that's not right."

  Flor leaned close to Talea. "What's he doing?"

  "Preparing the proper spellsong, I suppose."

  "He sounds confused to me."

  "Wizards often sound confused. It's necessary to the making of magic."

  Flor looked doubtful. "If you say so."

  Eventually Jon-Tom reached the conclusion that he'd have to play something or

  admit defeat. That he would not do, not with Flor watching him. He fiddled with

  the mass and tremble controls, ran fingers over both sets of strings, strumming

  the larger and plucking at the smaller. No doubt he'd have been better off

  asking Clothahump for help, but the fear of self-failure pushed him to try.

  Besides, what could go wrong? If he conjured up fish instead of salamanders they

  might not be on their way any sooner, but at least they would eat well while