Daddy paying your way through school, paying for
your car and your dates?^
As a matter of fact, Jon-Tom had been holding
down two part-time jobs to help pay his tuition, but
Marfcus wouldn't allow him a chance to get a word in
edgewise.
"Not me. When I was twelve I was hauling crates
of vegetables to make enough money to buy shoes.
Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash; all that shit.
You think I ever saw any of that money?" He shook
his head angrily. "My old man took it away from me
to buy booze with so he and my mother could go out
and get drunk every Saturday night.
"If you dropped one of those crates and it busted,
it came out of your salary. When the fresh stuff came
in from the truck farms in central and south Jersey,
the college boys used to come in from town to buy
for the supermarket chains. One time I was watching
one of the women who sometimes came in with
them. Real slick broad, long legs and everything.
"Anyway, 1 had a whole crate of tomatoes on my
back and 1 dropped it. Busted all over. Some of it
got on this buyer's shoes, and they made me clean it
up right there in front of everybody. All the other
guys just laughed at me.
"I've never forgotten that, kid. Never thought I'd
have a chance to do anything about it, until now."
"That wasn't me," Jon-Tom told him as calmly as
he could, "I wasn't there. 1 probably hadn't even
been born yet."
"So what's the difference? You intellectual schmucks
are all the same. Think you know belter than every-
body else. I'm giving you a better chance than your
kind gave me. I'm giving you a chance to fight your
way out."
Alan Dean Foster
260
Prugg smiled thinly and let out a grunt that rolled
through the room like thunder.
"At least let me have my instrument."
"Why, so you can work some magic maybe? Do a
disappearing act? Huh-uh, kid, not a chance. This is
my roll and I'm playing it for all it's worth. I'm
keeping these dice unless fate jerks them out of my
hands. I'm going for the whole ball of wax this time,
and I don't need any wise punks from back home
trying to muscle in on my territory. Tell you what I
will do, though. I'll tell Prugg to go easy on you.
Maybe he won't kill you. Maybe." Then he was looking
toward the door as though Jon-Tom had ceased to
exist as a human being.
"Hey, Thornrack! Get in here."
The jaguar who had conveyed j on-Tom from the
cell appeared. "Yes, Master?"
"Take this punk back downstairs and toss him in
with his friends, but don't hurt him. I want him in
one piece for later."
"Yes, Master." Thornrack entered the room and
put a powerful paw on Jon-Tom's shoulder. "Let's
go, man."
Markus's jeering followed Jon-Tom as he was led
from the chamber. "What's wrong, kid? No snide
remarks? No snappy comeback? I thought your kind
had an answer for everything. Don't you? Don't
you!"
The door slammed tight behind them, but as they
rejoined the waiting escort and started out of the
tower, Jon-Tom thought he could still hear Markus
the Ineluctable ranting and raving furiously behind
him.
He wasn't feeling very optimistic as they led him
back down into the bowels of the Quorumate, down
below the water line and into the dungeons again.
Somehow he had to regain possession of his duar.
Tax. MOMENT or THE MAOICSAM 261
The only way to unseat the two-bit dictator that Markle
Kratzmeier had turned into was with magic.
Certainly without the duar he wouldn't stand a
chance against the bear-mountain named Prugg.
"Open it up," the jaguar said to thejavelina turnkey.
Jon-Tom saw his companions lined up against the
bars. Clearly they read the expression on his face,
because there was no cheering. Only Opiode eyed
him with something approaching interest as the grille
was opened and he was shoved unceremoniously
inside. The grate closed with a metallic clang which
echoed through the darkness.
Guards and turnkey retreated up the stairs, chat-
ting conversationally. As soon as they were gone, the
otters crowded around him.
"Well, mate, 'ow'd it go?"
"What did you learn?" Opiode asked curiously.
"He's from my world, all right, but I resent having
to admit it. I didn't actually see him work any magic,
but I don't doubt that he can. His living quarters were
full of evidence."
"He proved his abilities to me in person," Opiode
said softly.
"Well, wot do *e want?" Mudge asked.
"The same thing every other tin-pot would-be
emperor wants: everything. He's a dangerous, homi-
cidal^ frightened, thoroughgoing bastard, and that's
giving him the benefit of the doubt. Oh, he did
make one show of magnanimity. He said that if I
could outfight his bodyguard, 1 might get my duar
back."
"Prugg." Domurmur nodded knowingly. "I like you,
man, but I'd put my wagering money on your
opponent."
"So would I," said Jon-Tom grimly. "I've got about
as much chance of beating him as I do of getting
Thornrack to let us escape. Less, probably." He glanced
Al&n Dean Foster
262
down at Mudge. "Remember the bouncer at Ma-
dame Lorsha's in Timswitty? This one makes him look
like a cub."
Mudge's whiskers twitched. "That don't sound none
too promisin', mate."
"It isn't." He paused. Something had been trou-
bling him since he'd reentered the cell, but he'd been
too busy telling of his meeting with Markus to focus
on it. Now he did, and it gave him a start. "Hey, I
think I can feel a—"
Three pairs of furry paws slapped over his mouth
and most of the rest of his face, muffling him
completely. Memaw stepped close, put her fingers to
her lips. Jon-Tom nodded slowly and the paws were
withdrawn.
Taking his hand in her paw, she quietly drew him
toward the darkest corner of the cell. The rest of the
otters moved aside to let them through. There was a
small twist and bend in the far corner where the cell
curved around to follow the contours of the outer
wall- It was there that Jon-Tom saw the source of the
thing thai had bothered him since he'd rejoined his
companions.
A steady breeze.
It rose from a section of floor where the paving
had been removed. The hole was rapidly being en-
larged by the otters' best diggers. A pile of cracked
and broken rock was stacked neatly against the far
wall. Memaw pointed at it.
"Rotten, from age and the dampness. Quoriy smelled
the air coming in and we traced it back here to the
floor. We managed to
break the old stones away."
She leaned forward and whispered anxiously. "How
is it coming, my friends?"
Knorckle looked up at them. His face was smeared
with wet dirt and pulverized rock. "There's somethin'
THE MOMENT or TUE MAGICIAN 263
else down 'ere, all right, mum. It ain't solid and it
ain't water."
"Don't smell none too good," opined Mudge. He'd
moved up to stand nex? to Jon-Tom, who reflected
on the fact that the otter's shifts in mood were as fast
as his tingere. "But 'tis air. Where's she comin' from?"
He leaned'over and tried to see into the hole. Flying
paws and dirt made it difficult.
"Maybe a way out," murmured Memaw, hardly
daring to hope.
Selryndi had walked over to watch. The squirrel
drew his tattered cloak tightly around him, sniffed.
"Can't be. This is the lowest level of the Quorumate."
"Not necessarily, my friends." Those who weren't
digging turned to look at Opiode, whose expression
for the First time reflected his nickname- That in
itself gave Jon-Tom cause to hope- "There are.,.
stories." His wise, shining eyes roved over the ancient
masonry. "The Quorumate Complex is the largest
structure in Quasequa, and the oldest. It is said that
as it was built, the Lake of Sorrowful Pearls rose
around it, so that the dungeon we are now imprisoned
in once stood above the water line.
be still older levels farther below."
The digging crews worked in relays while the rest
kept a careful watch on the stairway. Their energy
and determination was wondrous to behold, except
when someone got in someone else's way. Then
Memaw would have to step in and break up the
fight. These were always brief and harmless, but
they cost precious minutes. There was no telling
when the turnkey or Thornrack might return and
decide to make a cursory inspection of their cell.
Jon-Tom didn't much care what lay below the
broken, sodden stones. Anything would be better
than having to face Markus's bodyguard in combat.
Alan Dean Foster
264
"She's wide enough now." Frangel wiped his paws
on his shorts. "Who's first down the bung-'ole?"
"I'll go," said Memaw. Sasswise pushed her aside.
"No you don't, mum. Beauty before brains."
"That's what 1 said, my dear," countered Memaw,
shoving back.
While the two of them argued, Ftutzasarangelik
(but you can call him Flutz) jumped between them
and disappeared through the gap in the floor. The
soft thump of his landing was heard clearly by those
waiting anxiously above.
"It's not too bad," he whispered up at them. "I'm
in some kind of tunnel. There's a little water runnin'
along the bottom, and I can 'ear it drippin' down the
wails in a couple o' places, but she seems solid
enough."
"How big is it?" Memaw called to him.
"Not very. Old drainage tunnel, I thinks. I *ave to
bend to clear the ceiling."
Jon-Tom went cold. He'd always been a little
claustrophobic and had trouble enough in local build-
ings with low ceilings. If Flutz had to bend, that
meant he'd have to go on hands and knees, or
crab-walk. This through a narrow tunnel full of
water, below the level of the lake beyond, toward an
unknown destination.
And the tunnel might get smaller as they went,
closing in around them tighter and tighter, pressing
against his sides as well as his legs until...
A hand nudged him. "Hey, mate, are you all
right?" There was genuine concern on Mudge's face.
"You look a mite green."
Jon-Tom took several long, measured breaths. "I'm
okay. Let's go."
Quorly followed Flutz, then Sasswise, then Frangel.
Selryndi was next in line and pulled up short, eyeing
the dark hole uneasily.
THE MOMENT OF THK MAGICIAN
26,5
"Let's not be hasty. We don't know what's down
there."
"But we do know what. is up here," said Opiode,
stepping around him. The salamander's tail twitched
as he spoke. "Slow starvation and continued humili-
ation, or worse."
"Easy for you to say, wizard. You are as much at
home underwater as a fish." He gestured at the
otters. "To a certain extent, so are these industrious
visitors. But the rest of us are strictly dry-land air-
breathers. What if the water should rise to the ceiling?"
"What if the sun should fail to rise tomorrow?"
said Opiode. "Remain here if you wish, and give our
apologies to Markus the Ineluctable. The rest of us
have an appointment with freedom." He turned and
plunged through the opening, displaying an agility
that belied his age.
Old Trendavi followed him, the pangolin's scales
barely clearing the gap. The rest of the Quorum
followed until only Selryndi remained.
Jon-Tom dropped through the hole and looked up
at him. "I'm as much of a drylander as you are,
Selryndi. If I can stand it, so can you."
The squirrel stood staring down at the tall young
human. Then he muttered something under his
breath, tucked his tail up against his back, and jumped.
The rest of the otters brought up the rear. They
took care to replace the floor as best they could. Any
delay in discovering the hole would help to confuse
pursuers-
Once the gap had been reseated, it was pitch-black
inside the tunnel. Jon-Tom found he could still walk
it was better than trying to crawl through the shallow,
cold water that ran along the bottom of the tunnel.
[, Still, he kept knocking his head against the ceiling,
Aim Dean Foster
280
which fortunately had been worn smooth over the
years.
It was anything but a pleasant hike- He kept
bumping into furry bodies ahead and others stum-
bled into him from behind. Their only link and only
guides were touch, smell, and anxious whispers.
They walked for what seemed like miles in the
darkness before Frangel's voice echoed down the
tunnel. "There's a branching up 'ere. Which way?"
"From which direction does the air flow most
strongly?" Memaw inquired.
"From the left, mum, but the ceiling there is a bit
lower." Jon-Tom cursed softly.
"Ignore it, mate," said Mudge from just in front of
him. "You can 'andle it."
"I'll have to. If I go back to that cell, I'll have to go
two falls out of three with a two-ton rug."
"Move on!" Mudge shouted toward the front of the
line. "We're all okay back "ere."
They pushed ahead until Frangel called another
halt. "There's water comin' in 'ere pretty good,"
The tine shuffled slightly and Jon-Tom could hea
r
the otters scratching around.
"Stone's loose," Memaw announced evenly. "We
could probably break through. If the lake didn't
come in too fast we could get out this way."
"Maybe you could," said Selryndi, "but what about
the rest of us? We don't know how long we'd have to
hold our breath."
"Is not the chance of freedom better than the sure
death that awaits us all back in our prison?" Opiode
asked him.
"Easy for you to say, gill-wizard."
"Memaw," Jon-Tom broke in, "does the tunnel go
on?"
"Yes."
"Then I think we should keep going. Maybe we'll
THE MOMENT Of THE MAGICIAN
267
find a better place. If not, we can stilt come back and
try to break through here."
"My thoughts are the same, young man," she
replied. "We are not abandoning anyone." A chorus
of ayes rose from the rest of the otters and the line
started forward once again.
As he stumbled past the place Frangel had found,
cold water spurted over Jon-Tom's legs. The take lay
just beyond that feeble wall, ready to break in at any
" moment. If it gave way white they were further up
. -the tunnel...
He forced himself to concentrate on the path ahead.
They seemed to be walking in a wide curve back
toward the left, though the darkness had him
completely disoriented. It didn't seem to bother the
otters, though. He wondered if they would eventual-
ly arrive back at their starting point beneath the cell.
Better the lake should break in.
Then Frangel's voice from up ahead, "It's opening
up!"
Moments later they emerged from the tunnel into
a vast open bowl- Jon-Tom's back protested as he
straightened up. At first the big chamber seemed as
dark as the tunnel, but as his eyes adjusted he found
he was just able to make out dim outlines in the
darkness.
The source of illumination was weak with distance:
a tiny circle of light far above them.
"A well o' some kind," Quorly suggested, "inside
the bloomin' Quorumate. That sound familiar to any
o' you blokes?"
The Quorum members put their heads together
and considered. None of them had taken much of
an interest in the architecture of the rambling collec-
tion of structures they ruled from. Only Opiode had
any ideas.
"In less civilized times condemned criminals were
Alan Dean Foster
268
rumored to have been thrown into such pits. It may