neetha Napew - The Time Of The Transferance

“What do you make of it?’’ Jon-Tom asked his companions.

“From the way that ‘orse is runnin’ back and forth and nudgin’ at those posts I’d say e’d rather pass on tonight’s supper,” said Mudge. “But there’s one thing that don’t make no sense.”

Jon-Tom found himself nodding in agreement. Indeed, you’d have to be blind not to have noticed it already. For while the walls of the corral curved inward and were topped with sharp things, the enclosure remained open to the sky. The nervous fluttering of the stallion’s wings showed they were not broken or otherwise visibly damaged. Therefore the inexplicable question remained.

If he was in the kind of danger he appeared to be in, why didn’t he simply spread those powerful appendages and fly away?

XI

“That black collar they’ve got on him must be some kind of ceremonial harness.” Weegee was as puzzled by the apparent dichotomy of the stallion’s imprisonment as the rest of them. “Even if it was solid lead I don’t see it weighing him down enough to prevent him from taking off. He’s a big, strong animal.”

“Make no sense for sure,” Cautious agreed.

‘ Tis all to our advantage.” Mudge pointed to a long outrigger with a sturdy mast set in the center. “Look at that beauty. If we can make off with ‘er we’ll ‘ave ourselves a leisurely cruise to Chejiji in no time. This is goin’ to be a cakewalk. While they’re ‘avin’ themselves their barbecue me an Weegee will swim across an* slip that pretty from its moorin’s. We can do this stream underwater easy.”

Jon-Tom made no effort to hide his shock. “Mudge, we can’t just run off and let them cannibalize a beautiful animal like that.”

“Who says?” He nodded toward Weegee. “That’s my idea o’ a beautiful animal, not somethin’ with hooves instead o’ toes.”

“But what about the commonality of intelligence among the warm blooded? Have you forgotten that one of our best friends on our previous journey was a quadruped?”

“I ain’t forgot old Dormas. Who could? But she ain’t set for the banquet tonight and I don’t know that winged stallion from nothin’. Just because ‘e’s got wings don’t make Mm anythin’ special.”

Cautious looked upset. “It ain’t right. Ain’t right that those who can speak an’ think should try eat each other.”

“ ‘Ow do you know that ‘orse can speak an’ think? Maybe ‘e’s a dumb throwback. Sure as ‘ell’s somethin’ wrong with ‘im. Otherwise why don’t ‘e up and fly away? Maybe ‘e’s livin’ out a deathwish.”

Jon-Tom watched the stallion as he endlessly paced the interior of his prison. “We could fly to Chejiji a lot faster than we could sail there. You’re right, Weegee, about his size. A flying percheron. He’s big enough to carry all of us.”

“I don’t like bein’ off the ground, mate. I get airsick, I do, if I ‘ave to climb to the top o’ a small tree. You’re pissin* into the wind anyways. ‘E’s in there and we ain’t. Tonight we ‘elp ourselves to a boat and slip out o’ ‘ere an’ tomorrow mornin’ we’ll be out on the open sea. Worst you’ll ‘ave out o’ this is a bad dream or two.”

“Logically you’re right, Mudge. Emotionally you’re all wrong.”

The otter found this amusing. “Now there’s a switch, wot?”

“How about this, then? Suppose we cross the stream and free him while the villagers are busy preparing for their feast.”

“ ‘Ow about we tie an’ gag you an’ dump you in the boat, and untie you when you’ve come back to your senses.”

“I’m going in after him. Are either of you with me?”

The otters exchanged a glance. Weegee dropped her eyes and said nothing. Disappointed, Jon-Tom looked to the last member of their little party.

“What about you, Cautious?”

“Just my name, that. I go with you, man.” He looked back toward the village and the corral. “This not right for sure.”

“You’re both out o’ your bleedin’ minds. Jon-Tom, you ask too much this time, you do.”

Jon-Tom pleaded with his friend. “It won’t be dangerous. Cautious and I will sneak up there when no one’s watching and cut the ropes securing several of those corral posts. Then we’ll run him out of there. Meanwhile you and Weegee can be stealing a boat. We’ll meet you where the stream flows into the lagoon. Cautious and I and maybe the stallion will swim back to join you. We’ll all be out to sea before anyone in there realizes that their main course has departed for parts unknown.”

“That’s fine, mate. You write it down. We’ll make copies to pass out to them cannibals in there just so’s they know for sure ‘ow they’re supposed to play their bloomin’ parts.”

They waited until the sun fell behind the palms. Mudge watched as Jon-Tom and Cautious started across the stream.

“You better make it downstream on time, mate. I ain’t ‘angin’ around waitin* on you. Not this time. You ‘ear me?” But Jon-Tom’s ears’were full of water and he didn’t hear. Or maybe he did hear but chose not to reply.

“Bloody idiots. I tried to warn “em.”

Weegee put a paw on his shoulder. “They’ll make it. Don’t worry.”

“Worry? Why the ‘ell should I worry about them? They’ve got plenty o’ time. We’ve got plenty o’ time.” He turned to embrace her but she pushed him away.

“Not to be distracted we don’t. Let’s go get that boat.”

She trotted toward the water. Grumbling, Mudge followed.

A single drum kept up an unvarying, monotonous rhythm that imbedded itself in Jon-Tom’s consciousness. He would hear it in his dreams for days thereafter, he knew—assuming this improvised rescue attempt came off successfully. With Cautious leading they picked their way through the reeds, dripping wet from having swum the stream. It was a warm evening and Jon-Tom felt refreshed instead of chilled. More than ever he knew they were doing the right thing.

They stopped behind a hut, crouching low. “See anything?”

“Most people over making preparations for big fire,” the raccoon whispered. “Here I don’t see anything and nobody. We go quick now.”

They raced across a small open area and found themselves standing next to the corral. The stallion saw them, glanced anxiously back over a shoulder, and trotted toward them. His voice was deep and resonant.

“Who are you, where’d you come from?”

“Friends.” Jon-Tom tried to see past the horse. “How’d you come to be in this fix?” Cautious was already using a knife on the thick ropes which held the corral posts together.

“I was traveling to visit friends. A terrible storm struck one night and the small craft I was traveling on foundered. I fear many of my shipboard companions were not strong swimmers. There were high waves and then rocks. I washed ashore alone and came this way looking for help. Instead I found these terrible people.”

Cautious had freed one of the posts. Jon-Tom helped the raccoon tie it down quietly.

“You’d better hurry.” The stallion was looking toward the fire pit. “My name is Teyva, by the way. Hurry or they will eat you as well. This is a terrible land.”

“Depend which part you live in.” Cautious strained against the knife.

“Why don’t you just fly out of here?” Jon-Tom indicated the black leather collar. “Surely that doesn’t weigh that much.”

The stallion glanced down at the ring around his neck. “No, it’s not heavy. I think the meaning is more ceremonial than anything else. This is what they place on the people they plan to eat. The fence is too high for me to jump.”

“I didn’t say jump, I said fly. Why don’t you fly away?”

Teyva looked at the ground and his voice fell. “I can’t.”