tainer it was peaceful, silent, warm. He fought against
falling asleep: that was what they wanted him to do,
so he stubbornly resisted doing it.
The speaker was nearby, giving orders. Jon-Tom
was lifted into the air, and thin straps were passed
over and around his container. He could tell he was
being moved only because he could see movement
TUB MOMENT or THE MAOICIAM 195
through the transparent material. He could feel
nothing.
Then he was falling. The coffin had slipped, or
been dropped. There was a rush of new activity
around nim, but the cause of it remained foreign to
his senses. His vision was starting to blur from the
effects of the Ruze's toxin. Soon he would be asleep
despite his best efforts to stay awake-
Staring straight upward he thought he could make
out a vast dark shape coming toward him. It was
blocking out the sunlight. For an instant it appeared
to linger near the apex of the dome, and then the
dome came apart. It did not crack or split like glass
or plastic. It simply imploded.
An explosive influx of water sent his coffin spinning,
along with the bodies of his captors. With his
perception already distorted, it was impossible to tell
which direction he was tumbling-
He was alone, a pebble in a bottle, a tiny human
marble being bounced between floor and walls. Some-
thing had shattered the dome. That much he was
certain of. He wanted to cry out as the water spun
him in circles, but his tongue and vocal cords were
paralyzed now. It didn't matter. There was no one to
hear him.
The wall collapsed, and the swirling currents threw
him outside the broken enclosure. The angry waters
quieted. It was peaceful outside the boundaries of
the ruined dome, though stirred-up sediments clouded
the pristine water of the lake. Or was the darkness
only in his mind?
It seemed as though he was falling now, still tum-
bling over and over, bouncing down the side of the
underwater hill on which his prison had been
constructed. He fell slowly because of the water and
because of the air within his coffin. The latter was
already beginning to smell stale. When he started to
Aian Dean Foster
196
black out, he suspected it was due not to the afteref-
fects of the injection he'd received but to the deple-
tion of his small air supply.
In his drugged fashion he was elated. He would
not have to suffer repealed visits from the Ruze, nor
some slow and painful dismemberment in distant
Cugluch. He was going to die here and now. He
would have smiled if his paralysis had permitted it.
The Plated Folk were going to be cheated of their
ceremonial revenge.
Then the darkness came to him, and he welcomed
it.
XII
After an eternity it occurred to him that the tem-
perature around him was rising. Not so surprising in
death, perhaps, but it did surprise him that he could
sense the change.
He tried to open his eyes. The muscles protested.
It was as though he were not completely dead. He
tingled all over, an excruciating sensation.
Since his eyes weren't functioning, he tried to
move his lips. They worked, but fitfully. He forced
them to. He badly wanted a swallow of air.
When he finally managed that complicated series
of movements, he tried to scream. The air went
down his throat and into his lungs like a chunk of
raw liver. The next swallow was easier, however.
Long-dormant glands generated saliva, and this helped
even more.
Possibly he was not dead. He argued the point
with the rest of his body, which insisted he was. He
had drowned or suffocated or both, but he certainly
wasn't alive.
Exhibit A for the defense: he could breathe. The
prosecution faltered in its argument, and then the
case for his demise was in tatters. Nothing like intro-
ducing a surprise piece of evidence at the critical
197
Alan Dean Foster
198
moment, he mused. But now he would have to prove
to the court that he was capable of consciousness.
First witness for the defense to the stand. I
call... sight! Open one lid and swear on your optic
nerve. Do you solemnly swear to see, to perceive, to
provide a view of the world arould this not-quite-
corpse? I do.
Someone was staring down at him, a fuzzy moon
of a face. It wore an anxious expression. There was a
black nose; a lot of brown fur; bright concerned
eyes; and whiskers that twitched.
"Madge," he mumbled. Someone had filled his
mouth with glue.
The face broke out in a scintillating smile and
looked away from him. "Now, ain't that interestin'. 'E
thinks I'm 'is friend."
A calming, reassuring, confident voice. Only prob-
lem was, it didn't belong to Mudge. It was too
high-pitched.
Jon-Tom put a hand to one ear, deU|
was able to do so, and did some plumt
fed that he
"Take it easy, man," the voice ^tt^ "V
so good." "<1
in't look
"That's appropriate," he mumbled. Str^ftgth was
flowing back into him along with consciousness. "I
don't feel so good either."
The otter leaning over him was definitely not
Mudge. In place of the familiar green felt cap and
feather, this stranger wore a leather beret decorated
with glass buttons- The face was slimmer than Mudge's,
1|a, features more delicate. Instead of a simple vest it
^^^a comptex assortment of straps and metal rings.
iJO'^^fean that he cottldn't see. Changing his line of
sight.y^yeL ha^ meapt raising himself up on his
elbowg^^life^tin^eel he was ready for that yet.
"Hi/^ic^^^ler^.'Me name's Quorly. You're
cute. Mu8it&-(Sd me you were cute, but not very
"•» '-_ •» '
THE MOMBJTT OF THK MAOSCWI
199
bright. I thought a spellsmger was supposed to be
bright."
Maybe it was the curled eyelashes, Jon-Tom told
himself. Or the streaks of paint above the eyes
themselves. Makeup? Or war paint? He couldn't decide.
Another otterish face hove into view and smiled
hesitantly down at him. Still not Mudge. This one
was too wide, almost pudgy. Somehow the idea of a
fat otter seemed like a contradiction in terms, but
there was no denying the new arrival's species, or
corpulence. He wore a wide, floppy chapeau that
drooped over his eyes. ^
"This is Norgil," said Quorly. s.
"Hiyal" The new arrival frowned over atthe female.
Female. Quorly was a she, Jon-Tom Decided. So
the face paint was makeup, then..0r tpaybe it was
makeup and war paint. With 'otters, according to
what Mud
ge had told him, you <3^uld never be sure.
"Think 'e can 'ear us?" NorgUFAsked*
"I can..." Jon-Tom was startlftd b^'the croaking
sound that issued from his throaJS H^ JEried again. "I
can... hear you. Who are you?" ^ |k }
"See?" Quorly beamed down at Sy^ as she spoke
to her companion. "He's alive. ThatJtfUdge chap was
right. He's just a little slow." She, s^^ tb Jon-Tom.
"I just told you. I'm Quorly, and vyi^^ Norgil." She
looked to her left and gestured, "^gtos^'you feel up
to it I'll introduce you to MemaWj^p^ph, Frangel,
Sasswize, Drortch, Knorckle, VVi.ipp.j^^iiLzasaraiig-
elik... but you can call him V^^Sfi'S1
The names all ran together ii?^^-im's brain.
He'd have to try and sort them <^|^^f'-
At the moment, all his energies ^^fe^ncentrated
on the difficult task of sitting up. <l}iea he failed at
that, he settled for turning over on Ins left side. This
operation he accomplished with some success, save
for throwing up effusively and compelling his two
Alafi Dean Foster
200
attendants to jump clear. Despite his bulk, Norgil
proved himself as agile as any otter, moving with a
kind of high-speed waddle.
*"E's alive, all right," said Norgil disgustedly.
They were on an island, Jon-Tom knew. He could
tell it was an island because he could see the water of
the Wrounipai off in the distance. Of the Plated Folk
there was no sign-
He glanced past his feel and was rewarded with a
view of lean-tos, more elaborate temporary shelters,
and a couple of crackling fires. Two unfamiliar,
outrageously attired otters were broiling several huge
fish on a long spit over the larger of the two blazes.
Several others were sliding spitted, cleaned fish on
long poles and setting them out to dry in the sun.
"We're a 'unting party," Quorly informed him.
" Tis a lot easier to make a good 'aul when there's a
bunch o* you all workin' together. 'Tis also more fun.
We do right well. Usually don't come this far north,
but 'tis been a long time since anyone tried to tap this
district, so we thought we'd give 'er a looksee. Lucky
damn good thing for your arse that we did."
Another shape was approaching- Norgil moved
aside to give the newcomer room. And at last, a
familiar face and voice.
"Top o* the mornin' to you, mate!" Mudge pushed
his cap back on his forehead, gave Jen-Tom a quick
once-over, and put an affectionate arm around Quoriy's
waist. She leaned back into him, grinning.
No wonder Mudge was smiling so broadly, Jon-
Tom mused. It had been a while since he'd been with
any of his own kind. He struggled to smile back.
"Hello, Mudge."
" *0w you feelin', mate?"
"Like a reused tortilla: pounded fiat on both sides "
"Don't know wot that be. but you look beat-up for
sure. 'Ad a bad moment or two down there" He
THE MOMENT OF THE MAGICIAN 201
nodded to his right- "Couldn't find you nowheres.
Old Memaw spotted the box they'd stuck you in
slidin' down the side o' the embankment. If she
'adn*t o' seen you when she did, ii'd been too late for
you by ftie time we'd o' found it."
Jon-Tom noddec^ "I believe I'd like to try sitting up
now."
"Think you're up to it, mate?"
"No, but I'm going to try anyway."
Strong, short arms helped support him. For a
minute he thought he was going to throw up again.
His friends looked alarmed and he hastened to reas-
sure them.
"No, I'm belter now, it's okay. It's the aftereffects
of the shit they shot into me. My insides are still on a
roller coaster."
"Wot's that?" Quorly asked.
"See? I told you 'e were a strange one, even for a
'uman," said Mudge-
She looked sideways at Jon-Tom. "Yes, but *e is
cute"
"Don't you go gettin' any funny ideas, luv. Besides,
*e 'as funny ideas 'imself." Mudge nodded at Jon-
Tbm. " 'As a phobia or somethin' about stickin' to 'is
own kind. Don't care much for variety."
"Oh." Quorly looked solemn, then shrugged. "Well,
'is business is 'is business."
Jen-Tom paid little attention to this casual dissec-
tion of his sexual preferences and tried to massage
some feeling back into his cheeks and forehead.
"What happened? How did you get away?"
"Well, mate, after you fell asleep last night, I
stayed awake rackin* me brain and tryin* to think o'
somethin'. Tis easy to think in the darkness, and it
were damn dark down there once the sun went
Awn. Some o' them creepy-crawlies 'ad their own
glow lights, but they didn't come up around our
Alan Dean Poster
202
jail. Don't need much light when you're used to
gettin' around by feelin' the vibrations in the water.
"Anyways, I was fresh out of clever notions when
our delivery bug with the 'airy 'ind legs showed up to
make 'is regular air drop. That's when it 'it me,
mate. The only thing comin' into our cell regular
and unquestioned was air, and the only thing takin'
its own sweet time leavin' was the bug that brought
it.
"So I gets this idea in me noggin, see, and I kind
of roll over toward the exit like I'm movin' in me
dumps 'is air I'm restin' quiet as an undertaker right
close to the water, and I just sort o' rolls out behind
'im when 'e leaves. Didn't even try to swim, just let
meself float up behind 'im so as not to upset our
'ammer-'anded guard with any undue movements.
'E never even turned to 'ave a look, I'm 'appy to say-
The big 'ard-shelled ugly bastard.
"Delivery bug never even knew I was 'auntin' 'is
'eels. Too busy with *is bloody job, I expect. Anyways,
I went up like a bubble, not movin', until we got near
the surface. Then 1 just let meself drift along like an
old log. After I'd floated for a while, I started
swimmin* real slow-like, ready to break all records
for the ten-leaguer if anythin' showed up behind me.
Nothin' did. Got away clean. Didn't really start movin'
till I was sure I was away safe and unnoticed. Then,
well, you never saw anythin* move through the water
that fast, mate."
"I was thrilled you escaped, Mudge, but I never
expected you to come back after me."
Mudge looked a little embarrassed, didn't look a(
his friend directly. "Well now, mate, to be perfectly
practical about it, I found meself thinkin' that there
weren't a whole lot I could 'ave done for you all by
meself, so I kind of bid you a tearful 'ail and farewell
THE MOMBNT OF THE MAGICIAN
203
and it were nice knowin' you and struck off back
northward in a big curve. 'Adn't gone too far when I
got 'ungry and found a deep pool full
o' Fish. After
that little swim I was more than a mite starved.
"Wot 'appened was I got meself good and tangled
up in this big net. Thought those bleedin' bugs 'ad
some'ow followed me and caught me all over again.
Wasn't so much scared as angry with meself.
"Come to find out when I were dragged into the
daylight again that it weren't our old bulgy-eyed
buddies at all that 'ad caught me, but a swell lot o'
distant cousins." He patted Quorly on the derriere
and she giggled.
An extraordinary sound- Jon-Tom had never heard
an otter giggle before.
"You should 'ave 'eard 'im as we were untanglin'
'im from our net," she told Jon-Tom. " 'Im all tied up
in there with our fish and water reeds and bait and
all. Wot a mouth!"
"I'm just the expressive type is all, luv." He turned
back to Jon-Tbm. "Anyways, findin* meself among
this 'ealthy bunch o' the clan forced me into one 'ell
o* a battle with me conscience, mate. I couldn't decide
wot to do. So I decided to leave it up to them as to
whether to take the risk o' goin' back and tryin' to
spring you from the chitinous jaws o' death, as it
were. And wouldn't you know that every one o' the
bloomin* fools opted to do the dumb thing and go
back?" Mudge shook his head sadly. "You've been
rescued by a lot o' certifiable crazies, mate."
"I am grateful," Jon-Tom said with feeling, "for
your collective stupidity."
Quorly blinked at Mudge. "Wot did 'e say?"
"Don't pay 'im no mind, luv. 'E just talks like that
sometimes- 'E don't mean nothin' by it. See, 'e were
studyin' to be a solicitor and 'e can't 'elp 'imsetf. It's
kind o' like a disease o' the mouth,"
Alan Dean foster
904
She eyed Jon-Tom appraisingly. "I thought you
were a spellsinger."
"That too," Jon-Tom told her.
Mudge leaned close and whispered. "'E's a bit
confused about everything, see?" The otter rapped
the side of his head.
"Oh." Quorly looked properly sympathetic.
Jon-Tom endured everything in silence, partly be-
cause he was used to Mudge and his brand of humor
and partly because he was too happy to be alive and
safe to quibble about being subjected to a little casual
abuse.
"How did you finally get me out of there?" He
rubbed at his forehead. "All I remember is some-
thing dark and wide blotting out the light and then
the dome breaking."
Mudge managed the difficult task of strutting while