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    Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

    Page 26
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      clearance.

      They trotted down the long hall and turned left.

      Cherjal had provided them with what was generally

      known of the Quommate's floor plan, but no one

      was certain of the location of the residential rooms

      where Markus was likely to have his headquarters.

      They'd have to find that themselves.

      Everything went smoothly until Sasswise leaped

      into the air grabbing at her backside. When she

      came down she started haranguing the innocent Norgil.

      "Will you watch wot you're doin' with that damn

      sword!"

      "Now, look 'ere, m'lady, I'm just keepin' it 'andy in

      case we're attacked... if you don't mind." Norgil ges-

      tured with the stubby but sharp offender. "Why

      don't you give a body a little room to move about?'*

      "Move about? I'll give you room to move about,

      you fat slob. I'll move you...!"

      "Quiet!" Memaw said sharply. "Be quiet, you twol"

      Already too late, Jon-Tom saw despairingly. A pair

      of halberd-wielding foxes had crossed their path a

      safe distance down the corridor. The noise brought

      them back to investigate. Now they were staring

      straight at the tightly packed clutch of invaders.

      "You there, where did you come from?" one

      demanded to know.

      "Cur's cockles!" Memaw muttered. She glanced

      right, then left, and led them up a side corridor. Not

      knowing what else to do, Jon-Tom followed. Shouts

      and yells rang out behind them.

      "So much for the element o* surprise," groused

      Mudge.

      THE MOMENT OF TOE MAGJCUN 233

      "It'll be all right," Quoriy assured him. "You'll see.

      We'll lose that pair of fools quick enough."

      Mudge skidded to a stop. "Righty-ho, but wot

      about this new lot o* fools?"

      A whole platoon of soldiers had appeared in the

      hall directly ahead and were now charging toward

      them. The platoon was an interesting mix of species,

      varying in size from armed rats and mice to two

      great cats and one ape.

      "Listen," Jon-Tom said innocently, "can't we talk

      about this?" The ape stabbed at him and he jumped

      aside, bringing down his staff on the other's spear.

      Instead of listening to reason, the ape reversed his

      weapon and tried to shove the butt end through

      Jon-Tom's teeth.

      He ducked and the blow passed over his head. A

      swipe with the ramwood took the ape's legs out from

      under him. The sound of fighting was deafening in

      the narrow corridor. The otters found themselves at

      a disadvantage in such confines, where they couldn't

      make use of their quickness. But the guards' rein-

      forcements couldn't get at their quarry and kept

      bunching up against each other in the corridors.

      Superior numbers couldn't be brought to bear against

      the invaders, but neither could they escape.

      Jen-Tom saw Mudge cut a tendon in a vizcacha's

      leg, saw blood spun, and watched as the stripe-faced

      soldier went down, too stunned to scream. Then

      something whacked him on the back of his neck and

      he staggered. He whirled, hunting for his assailant,

      and saw nothing but stars before his eyes.

      The stars grew brighter as he was hit again. He

      blinked and shook his head. As he did so he leaned

      slightly backward, and saw his attacker. An armored

      possum hung by its tail from one of the rafters. Iron

      weights were strapped to its waist and it was taking

      its time picking out targets among the otters below.

      Alaa Dean Foster

      234

      Nobody could reach him and Mudge was too busy

      defending himself with his sword to unlimber his

      bow.

      The possum wasn't used to fighting someone as

      tall as a human, however. Jon-Tom tried to knock

      the dangling fighter loose with his ramwood staff but

      couldn't quite reach him. For its part, the possum

      decided to stop playing around. The next iron ball it

      selected was lined with short, sharp spikes. It strug-

      gled to draw a bead on Jon-Tom as he bobbed and

      dodged below.

      Jon-Tom thumbed the concealed switch set in the

      staff, and the ramwood lengthened by six inches of

      sharp steel. A sudden jab pierced the possum's throat.

      It looked very surprised, hung for a moment longer

      from the ceiling, and then dropped like a stone.

      The otters fought well, but no matter how many

      they cut down, there were always more soldiers to

      take the places of the fallen. By now the whole

      complex must be alerted, Jon-Tom thought grimly.

      Still, it was Memaw who finally called a halt to the

      fighting when she saw the twisted form of poor

      Norgil lying limp against the marble. The otter had

      taken half a dozen sword thrusts and his life was

      leaking out on the floor. Already blood made the

      footing treacherous. That would take away the otters'

      one advantage: their quickness.

      So Memaw put up her sword and said, "Enough.

      We surrender."

      "Surrender? Wot's that mean, surrender?" said

      Quorly, panting hard. Her fine clothing had been

      shredded by sword cuts but otherwise she appeared

      unharmed.

      "No, Memaw's right, she is." Knorckle tossed his

      sword aside. "Better to gather strength and wits in

      jail than to perish here."

      The guards moved among them, collecting knives

      THE aSOMSHT OF THK MAQSCWI

      236

      and scimitars and searching briskly for any concealed

      weapons. Jon-Tom prayed they might leave him his

      duar, but they confiscated it also, along with his

      backpack.

      When this was done, a massively muscled jaguar

      shoved his way to the fore. His leather armor was

      streaked with sword cuts.

      "Explain this outrageous intrusion," he growled.

      ~ Jen-Torn stepped forward and growled right back

      at him. "Outrageous is the word for it. Here we

      arrive on time for our appointment and instead of

      receiving a courteous greeting, we are brutally attacked.

      What kind of troops do you station in here, anyways?

      . Cutthroats and murderers!"

      The jaguar's eyes narrowed and he stroked his

      -„ chin. "An appointment, you say. With whom?"

      "Markus the Ineluctable," Jon-Tom told him

      defiantly. "And is he going to be pissed when he

      / clears how we've been treated."

      "Markus, you say?" The officer pushed his helmet

      back off his ears. He looked tired. "Next I expect

      you're going to tell me that this is all a misunder-

      standing and that it'll easily be straightened out as

      soon as I take you to the advisor?"

      "~ "Of course." Jen-Torn replied easily.

      The jaguar seemed to consider. "The master is

      sleeping and would not wish to be disturbed. This

      casts something of a shadow over your story, tall

      man. It may be that the appointment you seek will be

      "' with the Chamber of Official Torments... but that is

      not for rne to decide. The G
    reat Markus will do

      ;. that"

      "Fine with us. If you'll just take us to him, I

      imagine he forgot all about our visit tonight. He'll

      straighten this out fast." Jon-Tom glared at the sol-

      ^ diers bunched together behind the officer. "When

      ^ he learns what's happened, heads will roll."

      Aim Dean Foster

      336

      "I prefer to bounce them myself," said'the jaguar

      evenly. "As a point of interest, some bounce nicely

      for a while, while others just go smash. I wonder

      which yours would do." '

      Jen-Torn went slightly weak in the knees, but didn't

      let k show. "Why not ask Markus?"

      "Why not, indeed?" replied the officer surprisingly.

      "As I said, only he will know the truth of your words.

      If you'll be so kind as to follow me?" He gestured

      with a paw.

      "That's more like it." Jon-Tom strode confidently

      past the jaguar, continuing to glare at the guards.

      They descended several levels until the air began

      to grow thick and moist. They were below lake level,

      and moisture seeped relentlessly through ancient

      stonework.

      "Markus the Ineluctable lives down here?" he asked

      their guide.

      "No," rumbled the jaguar. "As I told you, he sleeps

      and would not wish to be disturbed. I will notify him

      of your arrival. As he's expecting you, I'm sure he'll

      be right down. Meanwhile, I thought you would

      enjoy explaining yourselves to the leading members

      of our government, who are at this moment awaiting

      your presence in their new conference chamber."

      "We've heard that some members of the Quorum

      weren't getting along too well with their new advisor."

      "Is that so? A vicious, unfounded rumor. So much

      gossip in the city marketplaces these days. You really

      shouldn't pay attention to such idle chatter. Ah, the

      Quorum doorman. You there!" he roared at a doz-

      ing javelina. "Visitors for the Quorum!"

      Tusks flashing in the dim torchlight, the javelina

      roused himself and led them forward. Jon-Tom balked

      at the sight of the iron grille, but there was nothing

      to be done about it now. They were herded toward

      the open cell.

      THE MOUKHT OF TBK UAOICSAS

      237

      "There you go. Enjoy your conference," the officer

      said smoothly as the cursing, complaining otters were

      shoved through the opening. The javelina locked it

      from the outside.

      Jon-Tom glared through the bars. "You're a real

      smart-ass, aren't you, fuzz-brain?"

      "My, my, such language from those who are friends

      of the Great Markus," the jaguar said mockingly. "I

      will inform him of your arrival. Meanwhile, do make

      yourselves comfortable. I must see to the prepara-

      tions for your evening meal. Swill is served in a

      couple of hours." He turned and stalked off toward

      the stairway, laughing uproariously at his subtle wit.

      His soldiers clustered tightly around him.

      Turning, the otters found themselves sharing the

      cell with half a dozen surprised and rudely awakened

      elders. Here were those members of the Quorum

      who'd refused to countenance Markus's bid for

      power... and one other. The robed salamander

      stepped forward and introduced himself.

      "I greet you, fellow sufferers. I am Opiode the Sly,

      former chief advisor in matters arcane and mystic to

      the legitimate Quorum of Quasequa and now chief

      advisor in those same arts to the deposed Quorum of

      Quasequa."

      Jon-Tom wasn't ready for conversation with Opiode

      or anyone else. Failing to Find an empty comer, he

      sat down in the center of the floor.

      "My fault, dragging all of you into this. I should've

      come by myself."

      "Let's not 'ave none o' that, Jonny-Tom," said

      Quorly.

      "Right." Drortch put a consoling paw on his shoul-

      der. "You didn't 'ave no choice in the matter. You

      couldn't 'ave made us stay behind if you'd tried."

      "Right... that's so... better believe it..." agreed a

      chorus of otterish voices.

      Alan Dean Porter

      238

      "'Ow come nobody ever asks me wot I wants to

      do?" Mudge found a section of empty floor to sulk

      on.

      Memaw laid a maternal paw on Jon-Tom's head.

      "Norgil's time had come, that's all, my friend. Per-

      haps time for all of us. We have no regrets."

      "But 1 do, damn it! You shouldn't be here with

      me"

      "Damn right, mate," snapped Mudge. Memaw

      wagged a warning Finger in his direction.

      "Now, Mudge -.."

      "Don't 'Mudge' me, water-elder," the otter snapped

      back. "I've earned the right to 'ave me say, I 'ave.

      You've only 'ad to deal with this spellsingin' shit'ead

      for a few days. Me, I've 'ad to put up with 'is sorceral

      muddlin's for months. All I want is to live an ordi-

      nary life. An ordinary life, mind. And 'e keeps

      yankin' me off to join 'im on 'is bloody bloomin'

      bleedin' inexplicable quests and wotever. Well, I'm

      sick of it." He spat the words in Jon-Tom's direction.

      "You 'ear me, mate? Sick of it!"

      Quorly stared at him in disbelief. "Mudge! I'm

      surprised at you."

      " 'Ell, luv, I'm surprised at me, too. Surprised I'm

      'ere, but not surprised at 'ow this 'as turned out.

      Twas only a matter o' time, it were. That senile old

      turtle went and spun the wheel o* fate one time too

      many, and now the odds 'ave finally caught up with

      us. Only thing that's surprised me is that I've sur-

      vived 'is rotten company as long as I 'ave." He turned

      bis back on them all.

      "Turtle?" The elderly salamander wiped at his face.

      "Can it be that you are the help the great Clothahump

      has sent to us?'^

      "Not us," Memaw corrected him. "We are son of

      along for the swim." She indicated jon-Tom. "You

      need to talk to the young gentleman."

      239

      THE MOMBJVT Of THE MACTCIAJT

      Opiode turned an amphibious eye on the uncom-

      fortable Jon-Tom while one'of the deposed Quorum

      members voiced the thought that was in all their

      minds.

      "Just him? Him, and the noisy otter? They're our

      salvation? They are the strength Clothahump sends

      to us?"

      "I fear it may be so." Opiode hesitated as he spoke

      to Jon-Tom. "Unless you and the otter are simply the

      advance scouts. That's it, isn't it? Clothahump and

      his mystic army are encamped not far away, awaiting

      your report, aren't they?"

      Jon-Tom sighed as he turned to face the advisor.

      "Sorry. I'm afraid we're it. Me, Mudge, and our

      recently acquired friends. We're your help, and we

      haven't done a very good job of it so far. My plan

      was for us to slip in here quiet-like so that I could

      have a face-to-face meeting with Markus before any-

      one got excited. We didn't quite manage it"

      "Now, there's a snappy news bulletin," Mudge


      muttered from his corner.

      'An interesting stratagem," Opiode murmured, "but

      what good would it have done had you succeeded?

      You would still have ended up down here with the

      rest of us who oppose his bid for absolute power."

      Jon-Tom tried to summon up some of his battered

      confidence. "Not necessarily. If he didn't listen to

      reason, I was prepared to fight him. I'm a spellsinger,

      and a pretty good one."

      Opiode slumped. "A spellsinger? Is that all?"

      "Hey, now, wait a minute. I've accomplished some

      pretty impressive things with my spellsinging"

      "You do not understand. I do not mean to impugn

      your modest talents. But you must know that I am a

      wizard of no small stature, yet I was unable to

      counter the magic of this Markus. It is as unpredict-

      able and peculiar as it is effective. No mere spellsinger,

      Aim Deaa Porter

      240

      however voluble, can hope to deal with that." The

      salamander strained to see behind Jon-Tom.

      "Besides which, you have no instrument to accom-

      pany you."

      "They confiscated it along with our weapons and

      supplies."

      "It does not matter," said Newmadeen sadly. "It's

      obvious this one wouldn't stand a chance against

      Markus anyway."

      "I'd hoped to find a little more support here,"

      Jon-Tom told them. He was starting to get a little

      peeved by all the criticism. "None of you have any

      idea of my capabilities. You don't know what I can

      do."

      "Perhaps." The elderly squirrel who spoke was

      clad in rags. The bandage around his forehead indi-

      cated he hadn't accepted his deposition and subse-

      quent incarceration gracefully. Several pieces of his

      tail were missing.

      "But we do know what you can't do, and that's get

      in to see Markus. No one sees him anymore except

      his closest associates—Kindore and Asmouelie and

      the other traitors- And that dim-witted mountain of

      a bodyguard of his, Prugg."

      "I have to see him. We have to meet. It's the only

      way to resolve things."

      "Things will be resolved soon enough, as soon as

      he has consolidated his power," said the squirrel,

      whose name was Selryndi. "Markus will resolve his

      embarrassments by having them skewered, weighted,

      and dumped in a deep part of the lakes." He looked

      bitter. "We are at fault. We ought never to have

      allowed him to compete for the post of advisor."

      "It was the law," said Opiode.

      "Aye, but you warned us against him afterward

     


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