neetha Napew - The Time Of The Transferance

But before he could commence playing a new figure, taller and more massive than anyvof the other brigands, forced his way through the line. He halted a safe distance from the spellsinger. Half a dozen stilettoes were sheathed in the bandolier that crossed his broad chest. His tail twitched back and forth, back and forth, and only the first half was flesh, fur and blood.

“Greetings, man. I never expected to see you again.”

“Hello, Sasheem. Roseroar sends her regrets.”

“Regrets? What regrets would the tigress leave with me?”

“That she wasn’t able to bid you farewell in person.” The leopard chuckled, quite able to appreciate the bloodthirsty humor inherent in Jon-Tom’s remark. “I’m sure the big lady would have made a coat out of me if she’d had half the chance.” He examined the clearing, the rope dangling empty from the tree, the several sailors lying sprawled on the ground with their lives leaking from their slit throats. “You’d risk your life for a single female?”

“I see no reason to trouble you with my motives, which I doubt you’d understand. You remember me. You remember Roseroar. You should remember the others as well.”

“Ah, the otter with the touchy manner and toilet mouth. One arrives, two depart. A relationship?”

“Weegee was his,” Jon-Tom struggled for the right word, “fiancee.”

Sasheem nodded. “Some sense at last. Not a bad swap; a spiteful and sharp-toothed female for a spellsinger.”

“Who said anything about a swap? I’ll be leaving now.” He took a step backward.

Sasheem kept the distance between them unchanged. “No, I don’t think you will, spellsinger, or you would have gone already.” Sure enough, the sharp-eyed leopard had spotted that which had escaped the notice of his colleagues. “That’s not the same instrument you carried before. I know that a spellsinger must have a certain special instrument else he will be unable to perform his magic. Can it be that you have misplaced both?”

Jon-Tom strummed the suar, smiled thinly at the big cat. “Take another step closer and find out.”

“Careful, mate,” said the lynx on Sasheem’s flank. “Remember how he betwitched us the last time. Maybe he’s just taunting us. Mayhap this stringed snake he holds is as dangerous as the other.”

“If it is, then why is he standing there wasting his time talking to us while his friends put space between them?”

Jon-Tom was staring at him. “ ‘Mate.’ He called you mate. Aren’t you the captain now?”

Sasheem seemed surprised. “Captain, me? Of course I’m not the captain here. I’ve never aspired to captaincy.”

There was a commotion among the brigands in back. Jon-Tom watched as the pirates parted to let someone through.

“No. It can’t be. I saw Roseroar take you apart.”

Recent memory notwithstanding, it was a three-and-a-half-foot tall parrot that hopped out in front of the semicircle of respectful, edgy buccaneers to glare sourly at the dumbfounded spellsinger.

VII

Jon-Tom realized he was not going mad. The parrot was not Corroboc, though the relationship was unmistakeable. Though no expert in the distinguishing characteristics of fowl, there were too many similarities of aspect and posture between this bird and the late pirate commander for coincidence. At the same time the differences were as blatant as the similarities. Corroboc had boasted one false leg and an absent eye while this new arrival was missing neither. He was quite intact save for his left wing, which was splinted and bandaged.

“Captain Kamaulk.” Sasheem favored Jon-Tom with a toothy smile. “Brother to our lamented missing captain and inheritor of his titles and property.”

“Better he should’ve left you alone,” said the parrot, “and I could have stayed with my ledgers. Or did you maybe think my featherbrained fool of a brother ran this business by himself? Because pirating is a business, make no mistake of that. Corroboc was clever with a ship and a sword but not with figures. That end I handled. Now I am forced to manage both. So a mutual acquaintance of yours took him apart, har? We wondered what had happened to him. What a nice surprise that the guilty parties should choose to drop in. It seems we will have vengeance out of this last raid if not much profit. Your death will salve my poor brother’s heart.”

“He didn’t have a heart. Corroboc was the most vicious, evil, sadistic, venal low life it was ever my displeasure to encounter.”

Kamaulk looked pleased. “I’m sure that wherever he is now he’s delighting in your flattery, but it will do you no good. He’s dead and it’s up to me to decide your fate.” He rubbed his beak with his unsplinted wingtip. “What do you suggest, Sasheem?”

“Sell him in Snarken. Money’s better than vengeance. A spellsinger will bring much more on the open market than an ill-tempered lady. A fair trade, I calls it.”

“ If he can be induced to cooperate.”

Jon-Tom listened dazedly to the conversation. He felt like a participant in a bad dream. There couldn’t be two Corrobocs. Nature wouldn’t permit such a dual abomination. Of course, Kamaulk wasn’t the same bird as his brother. Already it was clear that this more bookish of the unholy pair was less impulsive and more stable than his deceased sibling. That didn’t mean he’d hesitate to have him drawn and quartered if he decided it was in the best interest of the “business.”

“You claim he is a spellsinger. I don’t doubt your story, but if that is the case then why hasn’t he turned us all into toads or himself into an eagle?”

“I believe he has lost his instrument of power, sir.” Sasheem nodded toward the silent Jon-Tom. “The device he carries is not the one he used on us when he was a prisoner on your brother’s ship.”

“I don’t like these uncertainties. Figures are always certain. I cannot believe he is confronting us in this fashion without purpose.”

“I see what he up to!” A lanky dingo pointed frantically toward the inlet.

Everyone turned. Kamaulk flapped his wings, settled down on Sasheem’s shoulder. From this high perch he was able to gaze out across the river.

“I’ve never seen a small craft like that,” the leopard commented. “It must belong to the magician.”

“Broken loose from its moorin’s,” suggested one of the other pirates.

“No,” insisted the one who’d raised the alarm, “see, ‘tis all camouflaged like, filled with moss and twigs and such.”

“A diversion, designed to distract us?” The parrot cocked a querulous eye at Jon-Tom who, knowing nothing, said nothing.

“The others are hiding under there,” said the dingo. “The female prisoner and the others who helped her. It has to be.”

“Trying to slip past right under our noses. Be damned. An extra ration of grog for you, Gorswont.” Kamaulk snapped orders. “Oreyt, Tomooto: take down the ship’s boats and we’ll cut them off. They’ve no sail.”

The pirates rushed toward their ship, but not before the parrot instructed a lynx and three others to stay behind to watch Jon-Tom.

“Ware close the spellsinger. If he attacks, defend yourselves and call for aid. If he tries to flee, hamstring him.” Sasheem’s eyes narrowed. “How much power you have left I do not know, man, but we’ll most surely find out when we return with your companions. A little cooperation on your part may be all that keeps me from having your lady friend disemboweled before her lover’s eyes. Remember that.”

Jon-Tom watched as the leopard raced to join the rest of his mates with his captain riding his shoulder. Then his eyes fell as he examined his guards. They held their spears and swords uneasily.