Jon-Tom why she'd selected it. It was not dissimilar to the baton she was so
accustomed to. The major difference was the pair of spiked steel balls at one
end, lethal rather than entertaining.
"Don't you think," he said uneasily, "it's a mite extreme?"
"Look who's talking. What's the matter, not what you'd like to see?" She turned
on her toes and did a mock curtsey. "Is that more ladylike?"
"Yes. No. I mean..."
She turned and walked over to him, laughing, and put a comforting hand on his
shoulder. It burned him right through his indigo shirt and iridescent green
cape.
"Relax, Jon. Or Jon-Tom, as they call you." She smiled, and his initial
irritation at her appearance melted away. "I'm still the same person. You forget
that you really don't know anything about me. Oh, don't feel bad... few people
ever really do. I'm the same person I ever was, and now I've been given the
chance to enjoy one of my own fantasies. I'm sorry if I don't fulfill yours."
"But the disorientation," he sputtered. "When I first arrived here I was so
confused, so puzzled I could hardly think."
"Well," she said, "I guess I've read a little more of the impossible than you,
or dreamed a little deeper. I feel very much at home, compadre mio." She clipped
the double mace to her link belt, pushed back her cape, and sat down on the
floor. Even that simple motion seemed supernaturally graceful.
"I was explaining to Jon-Tom," Clothahump began, "that the shock or the
combination of the shock of the explosion and the magic we were working finally
showed me the source of the evil that threatens to overwhelm this world. Perhaps
yours as well, young lady," he said to Flor, "if it is not stopped here."
Talea and Mudge listened respectfully, Jon-Tom uncertainly, and Flor anxiously.
Jon-Tom divided his attention between the wizard's words and the girl of his
dreams.
At least, she had been the girl of his dreams. Her instant adaptation to this
strange existence made her seem a different person. Moreover, she seemed to
welcome their incredible situation. It left him feeling very inadequate. How
many days had it taken him to arrive at a mature acceptance of his fate?
The insecurity passed, to be replaced by a burst of anger at the unfairness of
it all, and finally by resignation. Actually, as Mudge had indicated, his
situation could have been much worse. If Flor was (as yet, he thought
yearningly) no more than a friend, she was a damn-sight more interesting to have
around than a fifty-year-old male engineer. And he'd made a friend of Talea as
well.
Decidedly, life could be worse. There was ample time for events to progress in a
pleasant and satisfying fashion. He allowed himself a slight inward smile.
After all, Flor's enthusiastic acceptance of the status quo might be momentary
posturing on her part. If what Clothahump believed turned out to be true things
were going to beeome much worse. They would all have to depend on each other. He
would be around when it was Flor's turn to do some depending. He accepted her as
she was and turned his full attention to Clothahump.
"It is the Plated Folk," the wizard was telling them as he paced slowly back and
forth before a tall rack of containers that had not been shattered. "They are
gathering in all their thousands, in their tens of thousands, for a great
invasion of the warmlands. Legions of them swarm through the Greendowns.
"I saw in an instant great battle-practice fields being constructed on the
plains outside Cugluch. Burrows for an endless horde are being dug in
anticipation of the arrival and massing of still more troops. I saw thousands of
the soulless, mindless workers putting down their work tools and taking up their
arms. They are preparing such an onslaught as the warmlands have never seen. I
saw--"
"I saw a double-jointed margay once, in a bar in Oglagia Towne," broke in Mudge
with astonishing lack of tact. For several minutes he'd been growing more and
more restless. Now his frustration burst out spontaneously. "No disrespect t'
these ominous foretellin's, Your Omnipotentness, but the Plated Folk 'ave
attacked our lands too many times t' count. Tis expected that they're t' try
again, but wot's the fear of it?" Talea's expression indicated that she agreed
with him. "They've always been stopped in the Troom Pass behind the Jo-Troom
their strategy sucks, and what bravery they 'ave is the bravery o' the stupid.
All they ever 'ave ended up doin' is fertili-zin' the plants that grow in the
Pass."
"That's true enough," said Talea. "I don't see that we have anything unusual to
fear, so I don't understand your worry."
The wizard stared patiently at her. "Have you ever fought the Plated Folk? Do
you know the cruelties and abominations of which they are capable?"
Talea leaned back in the chair fashioned from the horns of some unknown creature
and waved the question away with one tiny hand.
"Of course I've never fought 'em. Their last attack was sixty-seven years ago."
"The forty-eighth interregnum," said Clothahump. "I remember it."
"And what were the results?" she asked pointedly.
"After considerable fighting and a great loss of life to both sides, the Plated
Folk armies were driven back into the Greendowns. They have not been heard from
since. Until now."
"Meaning we kicked the shit out of 'em," Mudge paraphrased with satisfaction.
"You have the usual confidence of the untested," Clothahump muttered.
"What about the previous battle, and the one before that, and the thirty-fifth
interregnum, which the histories say was such a Plated fiasco, and all the
battles and fighting back to the beginning of the Gate's foundations?"
"All true," Clothahump admitted. "In all that time they have not so much as
topped the Gate. But I fear this time will be far different. Different from
anything a warmlander can imagine."
Talea leaned forward in the chair. "Why?"
"Because a new element has been introduced into the equation, my dear ignorant
youngling. A profound stress presses dangerously on the fabric of fate. The
balance between the Plated Folk and the warmlander has been seriously altered. I
have sensed this, have felt it, for many months now, though I could not connect
my unease directly to the Plated Ones. Now I have done that, and the nature of
the threat at once becomes clear and thrice magnified.
"Hence my desperate casting for one who could divine and perhaps affect this
alteration. You, Jon-Tom, and now you, my dear," and he nodded toward a watchful
Flores Quintera.
She shook black strands from her face, clasped both arms around her knees as she
stared raptly at him.
"Ahhh, I can't believe it, guv'nor," Mudge said with a disdainful sniff. "The
Plated Folk 'ave never made it t' the top o' the Gate as you say. If they did,
why, we'd annihilate 'em there at our leisure."
"The assurance of the young," murmured Clothahump, but he let the otter have his
say.
" 'Tis only because the warmlander fighters o' the past wanted some
decent
competition that they sallied out from behind the Gate t' meet the Plated Folk
in the Pass, or there'd o' been even more unequal combat than history tells us
of. I'm surprised they keep a-tryin'."
"Oh, they will keep 'a-tryin', my fuzzy friend, until they are completely
obliterated, or we are."
"And you're so sure this great unknown whateveritis that you know nothin' about
'as given those smelly monstrosities an edge they've never 'ad before?"
"I am afraid that is so," said the wizard solemnly. "Yet I am admittedly no more
clear as to the nature of that fresh evil now than I was before. I know only
that it exists, and that it must be prepared for if not destroyed." He shook a
warning finger at Talea.
"And that, my dear, raises the other important advantage the Plated Folk have,
one which must immediately be countered. We of the warmlands are divided and
independent, while the Plated Folk possess a unity of purpose under their
ultimate leader. They have the strength of central organization, which is not
magical in nature but deadly dangerous nonetheless."
"That still hasn't kept them from a thousand years of getting the shit kicked
out of their common unity," she replied, unperturbed.
"True enough, but this time... this time I fear a terrible disaster. A disaster
made worse by the centuries of complacency you have just demonstrated, my dear.
A disaster that threatens to break the boundaries of time and space and spread
to all continuui.
"I fear if this threat is not contained, we face not a losing fight, my friends.
We face Armageddon."
XII
It was silent within the Tree for a while. Finally Talea asked, "What word then
has come out of the Greendowns to you, honorable magician?" Clothahump's warning
had quieted even her usually irrepressible bravado.
"From what I have sensed," he began solemnly, "Skrritch the Eighteenth, Supreme
Ruler of Cugluch, Cokmetch, Cot-a-Kruln, and of all the far reaches and lands of
the Greendowns, Commander of all Plated Folk and heir to their allegiance, has
called upon that allegiance. They have been building their armies for years.
That and this new evil magic they have acquired has convinced them that this
time they cannot fail to conquer. That self-confidence, that terrible feeling of
surety, is what came through to my mind more powerfully than anything else."
"And you learned nothing more about this new magic," said Jon-Tom.
"Only one thing, my boy. That Eejakrat, master sorcerer among the Plated Ones,
is behind it. That is something we could have naturally guessed, for he has been
behind most of the exceptional awfulness that rumor occasionally carries to us
from out of the Greendowns.
"Do not underestimate these opponents set before us, Jon-Tom." He gestured at
the indifferent Talea and Mudge. "Your friends talk like cubs, through no fault
of their own." He moved closer to the two tall humans.
"Let me tell you, the Plated Folk are not like us. They would as soon cut up one
of us to see what's inside as we would a tree. No, I modify that. We would have
more concern and respect for the tree."
"You don't have to go into details," Jon-Tom told him. "I believe you. But what
can we do from here?" He flicked casual fingers across the duar. "This magic
that seems to be in my music is new to me, and I can't control it very well. I
don't know what my limits may be. If you can't do anything, I don't see how an
ignorant novice like myself could."
"Tut, my boy, your approach is different from mine, the magic words you employ
are new and unique. You may be of some use when least you expect it. Both you
and your companion," he indicated the attentive Flor, "are impressive specimens.
There will be times when I may be required to impress the reluctant or the
doubtful."
"We can fight, too," she said readily, eyes sparkling with uncharacteristic
bloodthirstiness in that sensual but childlike face.
"Restrain yourself, my dear," the wizard advised her with a fatherly smile.
"There will likely be ample opportunity for slaughter. But first... you are
quite right, Jon-Tom, in saying that there is little we can do here. We must
begin to mobilize the warmlanders, to assuage their doubts and disbelief. They
must prepare for the coming attack. A letter or two will not convince. Therefore
we must carry the alarm in person."
"The 'ell you say," Mudge sputtered. "I'm not trippin' off t' the ends o' the
earth on some 'alf-cocked crusade."
"Nor am I." Talea rose and let her left hand drop casually to the dagger at her
hip. "We've our own personal business to attend to and care for."
"Children," Clothahump half whispered. Then, more audibly, "What business might
that be? The business of being chased and hunted by the police of the Twelve
Morgray Counties? The business of thievery and petty con schemes? I offer you
instead the chance to embark upon a far grander and nobler business. One that is
vital to the future of not one but two worlds. One in which all who participate
will assuredly go down in the memories of all those who sing songs, for twice
ten thousand years of legend!"
"Sorry," said Talea. "Not interested."
"Nor me, guv'nor," Mudge added.
"Also," said Clothahump with a tired sigh, "I will make it worth your while."
"Cor, now that be more like it, Your Imponderableness." Mudge's attitude changed
radically. "Exactly 'ow worth our whiles did you 'ave in mind?"
"Sufficiently," said the wizard. "You have my word on it."
"Now I don't know as that's exactly..." Mudge's sentence floundered like a shark
in a salt lake as he detected something new and dangerous and very unsenile in
the wizard's expression. "Wot I mean to say, sor, is that naturally that's good
enough for us. The word o' a great sorcerer like yourself, I mean." He looked
anxiously at Talea. "Ain't it, luv?"
"I suppose so," she said carefully. "But why us? If you're going to need an
honor guard, or body guard, or whatever, why not seek out some more amenable to
your crazy notions?"
Clothahump replied instantly. "Because you two are already here, have already
been exposed to my crazy notions, are familiar with the histories of these two,"
and he indicated Flor and Jon-Tom, "and because I have no more time to waste
with others, if we are to make haste toward distant Polastrindu."
"Now, guv'nor," said Mudge reluctantly, "I've agreed I 'ave, and I'll stick by
me word, but Polastrindu? You want that we should go... do you know 'ow far,
meaning no disrespect, that be, sor?"
"Quite precisely, my good otter."
"It'd take months!" shouted an exasperated Talea.
"Yes it would... if we were to travel overland. But I am not so foolish or so
young as to consider such a cross-country hike. We must make speed, for while I
know what is going to happen I do not know when; consequently I am ignorant of
how much time we may have left to prepare. In such circumstances it is best to
be stingy with what we may not possess.
"We shall not trudge overland but instead will make our way up the River
Tailaroam."
"Up the river?" said Talea, eyebrows raised.
"There are ways of traveling against the current."
"To a certain point, Your Wonderness." Mudge looked skeptical. "But what 'appens
when we reach the rapids o' Duggakurra? And I've 'eard many a tale o' the
dangers the deep parts o' the river possess."
"All obstacles can be surmounted." Clothahump spoke with confidence if not
assurance. "They matter not. Obstacle or no, we must hurry on."
"I think I'd rather go by land after all," said Talea.
"I am sorry, my dear. Tailaroam's secrets might be better concealed, but it will
be the cleaner and faster route."
"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "You'd be right at home in the water if we
had any trouble."
"I have not spent more than occasional recreational time in the water for some
years, my dear. While I may be physiologically adapted to an aquatic life, my
preferences are for breathing and living in air. As just one example, scrolls do
not hold up well at all beneath the water.
"Furthermore, we have now an excellent means for making our way to the river."
"The L'borean riding snake." Talea nodded thoughtfully. "Why not take it all the
way to Polastrindu?"
"Because the river will be as steady and much faster. Perhaps our young friend
Jon-Tom can conjure up an equally efficient form of water travel."
"Conjure up?" The query came from Flores Quintera, and she looked sideways at
Jon-Tom. "You mean, like magic?"
"Yes, like magic." He endeavored to stand a little straighter as he held out the
duar. "Clothahump was casting about for an otherworldly magician to assist him
with his troubles and he got me. It turns out that my singing, coupled with my
playing of this instrument, coupled with something--I don't know what--gives me
the ability to work magic here."
"That's very impressive," she said in a voice that lit a fire high above his
boots.
"Yes, it would be, except that it's kind of a shotgun effect. I fire off a song
and never manage to hit exactly what I'm aiming at. I was trying for an old
Dodge Charger and instead materialized the grandfather of all pythons. It turned
out to be tamed to riding, though." He smiled at her. "No need to worry about
it."
"I'm not worried," she replied excitedly. "I love snakes. Where is it? It's