neetha Napew - Son Of Spellsinger

Jon-Tom rose, shaking out his cape behind him. “It’s late. I’d better be getting back.”

No need to linger to overhear final farewells, Buncan knew. Turning in the darkness, he felt carefully along the wall as he retraced his steps. Soon he was back at the front door, which yielded silently to his touch. Out in the glade then, and moments later safely back among the friendly shadows of the silent Bellwoods. Heading home with the hope that Talea hadn’t checked his room in his absence. Even if she had, he’d prepared an elaborate and, he hoped, convincing excuse. In the event of total disbelief, the last thing she would suspect was that he’d been off spying on his father and Clothahump.

His head was awhirl with what he’d just overheard. Too much to contain, it spilled over into ancillary hopes and dreams, washing reality aside. Not to mention common sense.

It was news he had to share with others, and soon.

CHAPTER 6

“So this Garglemouth—”

“Gragelouth,” Buncan corrected him.

“So ‘e were a merchant from far away, an’ a sloth.” Squill dug his feet into the squishy sand of the riverbank. “Wot was ‘e, besides slothful?”

They were on the beach which struck out into the current on an upper bend of the Shortstub. Vest and pants bundled nearby, Neena cavorted in the water, a sliver of brown sleekness arcing through the silver. Like any other non-otter, Buncan could only look on enviously.

“Experienced and well-traveled,” he told Squill.

“Wealthy?”

“Hard to say. Sloths as a general rule aren’t very forthcoming.”

“Don’t see many in the Bellwoods.”

“This one had a wagon and pair.”

“Came a long way, ‘e did, to harangue mister hardshell.” Squill evicted a small freshwater crab with a toe, watched it scurry for the water. “This ‘ere Grand Veritable ‘e were prattlin’ about. Sounds special.”

“Clothahump doesn’t think it exists.”

Locating a nice palm-sized rock, Squill aimed and attempted to hit his sister the next tune she broke the surface. She dodged the missile with ease. “Accordin’ to wot you’re tellin’ me, mate, of beak-face spent a lot ‘o time listenin’. Wot do that tell you?”

“That Clothahump is kind to strangers.”

“Tell me another! The old bugger’s a grump.”

Buncan skipped a smooth stone of his own across the placid surface. He was stronger than Squill, but not as quick. “Then we’re left to consider the alternative, which is that mere was some substance to what the trader was saying.”

“Never been to the northwest,” Squill murmured thoughtfully. “Never been anywheres, really.”

Neena had emerged from the water and was shaking herself dry, her dark-brown fur glistening with droplets. “So Clothahump’s not gonna check this story out?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Buncan told her. “He let this Gragelouth spend the night. I’m sure he’s already left.”

“Wot about Jon-Tom?” She dug moss from behind one ear.

Buncan regarded the river. “Dad’s become . . . settled. You know what Talea would think about him going off on some crazy quest. Or how Weegee would give it to Mudge if he tried the same.”

“Old people,” groused Squill.

“Better not let Mudge ‘ear you say that,” Neena warned him as she methodically dried her whiskers.

“Squill’s more than half right.” Buncan chucked another rock into the water. “They’ve all gotten tired and lazy, forgotten what adventure’s all about. They’ve become too much a part of the community.”

“Well, I ain’t part o’ no community.” Squill rose and adjusted the angle of his cap’s feathers. “Me, I says we go after this ‘ere Gragelouth and check out ‘is story for ourselves. An’ if ‘e’s lyin’, we’ll be able to bring back proof o’ it.”

“Right,” agreed his sister. “Maybe ‘e were just tryin’ to extort some money from ol’ drawer-guts. Or free “elp.”

“Clothahump doesn’t hand out free samples,” Buncan murmured.

“Sure, ‘e ain’t dumb,” Squill agreed, nodding. “Just lazy.”

“I wonder how far to the northwest this Grand Veritable thing is supposed to lie,” Buncan said.

“Don’t matter. We got lots o’ time.” Squill moved nearer. “You said ‘e were near L’bor when he found that dyin’ mercenary. Did ‘e mention if ‘e were ‘eaded back up that way?”

Buncan tried to remember. “He may have said something along those lines.”

“We know where L’bor is.” Neena was slipping into her shorts. “We could find our way. This slant-eyed bloke came to Clodiahump lookin’ for ‘elp, did ‘e?”

“That’s right.” Buncan also stood, brushing at the seat of his pants.

“Well, then?” she murmured. The otters exchanged a glance. “Wot are we ‘angin’ around ‘ere for?”

“D’you mink he’d take us with him?”

“Cor,” she replied, batting her eyelashes at her tall human friend, “ ‘e’s a bleedin’ merchant! ‘E don’t know nothin’ about sorceral matters. If its spellsingin’ ‘elp ‘e wants, it’s spellsingin’ ‘elp we’ll ofifer ‘im.”

“Let’s get after ‘im.” Squill was already heading for the trees. “The farther off ‘e gets, the ‘aider it’ll be for us to catch up with ‘im. We’ll try the main north-south roads first.”

“What, leave right now?” Buncan hurried to catch up to the excited otter. “Without telling our parents?”

“Wot, you want their bloomin’ approval?” Neena came op behind him and pinched him on the butt. “We got our clothes, our weapons, your duar. We’re bloody well ready for anythin’. We can spellsing a privacy cocoon around us, keep Jon-Tom from spellsingin’ us out. That’s all we need to worry about. Besides, they’re used to us skippin’ off for a few days at a tune, campin’ in the woods. They won’t even look for us for a while.”

“The more distance we can make before they do,” Squill pointed out, “the ‘aider it’ll be for them to interfere.”

“If this Grugletooth—” Neena began.

“Gragelouth,” Buncan patiently corrected her.

“If ‘e turns out to be nothin’ more than some country extortionist, we’ll be right back anyways. Clothahump’ll be grateful for the confirmation.”

“Always wanted to see L’bor,” Squill murmured.

“What’ll we do for money?” Buncan wanted to know.

“We’ll live by our wits, mate. That’s wot Mudge always said ‘e did.”

“Your dad’s an inveterate liar.”

“I know. It’s one o’ ‘is most endearin’ traits. Come on.”

“You said this sloth ‘ad a team o’ two an’ a wagon. If it’s much o’ a team ‘e might be movin’ fast.” Neena was bursting with confidence and energy. “No matter. We’ll catch up with ‘im some’ow.”

Discreet queries revealed that the merchant had indeed passed through Lynchbany that very morning and had been observed heading north out of the town. That meant he was already a day ahead of mem.

“We ain’t gonna catch a wagon on foot,” Squill pointed out. “Bloody ‘ell! I was ‘oping ‘e’d ‘ole up ‘ere in town for a while.”

“We’ll ‘ave to find transportation.” His sister was nodding in agreement.

“How? We have hardly any money,” Buncan pointed out.

A twinkle showed in Neena’s gaze. “I’m the daughter o’ the inimitable Kludge, an’ Squill ‘ere, sad to say, is me brother. We’ve spent all our lives listenin’ to Mudge’s stories. You don’t do that an’ not pick up a smidgee o’ practical information ‘ere an’ there.”

Buncan glanced nervously up and down the busy street on which they stood conversing. “This is awfully close to home. Just being here makes it hard to stay inconspicuous.”