neetha Napew - The Time Of The Transferance

The notion of having an attic in a tree was a radical one. But, he’d argued with Clothahump, if one can have a cellar, why not an attic? The wizard had shrugged and complied. After all, it was a wedding present and one could expand dimensionally upwards as easily as down. It proved a convenient place to store unpacked wedding gifts, extra furniture, household supplies, and those items which one has no use for but which are obviously so useful they cannot be thrown away. Counted among the latter was a grotesque stone sculpture which had been a present from one of Clothahump’s friends, a whole collection of arms and armor which Talea cooed over and refused to part with despite Jon-Tom’s insistence that they were going to live a normal, peaceful life, and one five-foot-tall, bedraggled, foulmouthed, perpetually hungry otter.

Jon-Tom blinked as wood dust drifted down from the ceiling. “I don’t think Mudge is ready to leave.”

“You don’t make it a question,” she snapped. “You make it an order.”

“But Mudge is my friend. We’ve been through a lot, the two of us, and because he helped me out this last trip I feel like I owe him something.”

“Any old debts between you have long since been squared. Don’t you remember what he said after our wedding? That he’d only stay on here for a few days. That he just wanted a place to kick up his heels and relax for a week. That was months ago, Jon-Tom. He’s been freeloading ever since, putting his feet up on my best furniture, tracking mud in every time he goes swimming in the river—and to top it off he stinks and he has rotten table manners.”

“All otters have rotten table manners,” Jon-Tom mumbled, aware it was a feeble defense. “They’re not what you’d call a disciplined bunch.”

“Disciplined my ass! The lot of them are crazier than a coterie of cuckoos. I thought maybe Mudge would quiet down after you and I got married, but he’s worse than ever. I don’t know how many times I’ve caught him trying to peek at me while I’m taking my bath.”

“You ought to feel flattered. Usually Mudge won’t waste a glance on anything without fur.”

“You think so, do you? He’s got you flummoxed too, then, because I happen to know that among the many diseases he’s infected with is terminal satyriasis. That otter will screw anything that moves and probably a few things that don’t. Sometimes I think he prefers the latter because whatever he’s glommed onto can’t run away.”

“Come on, Talea. Mudge wouldn’t lay a paw on you.”

“He doesn’t have to. All he has to do is look at a female, but I don’t expect you to understand that. Anyway,” she said, raising her voice and not caring if the rest of the Bellwoods overheard, much less the sole occupant of the attic above, “I want him out of my house; fur, claws, filthy teeth and all. You’ve the perfect excuse for it now. Tell him you’re off on another journey and you need him to serve as guide and companion. Isn’t that what you always told him?” She wore a deliciously predatory smile now. “A perfect reason to drag him off with you—and dump him somewhere.”

“Talea, I just can’t “

She spun on her heel and marched over to the other armoire, began rummaging through the contents. Underwear and clothing went flying as she dug. “Where the hell did I put that sword?”

“Talea, we don’t want to do anything foolish.”

“Foolish?” She spoke without looking back at him. “You get that rat out of here in one piece or I’ll have him out in sections. Ah.” She removed her old sword from the bottom drawer, managing to look thoroughly incongruous standing there in the phosphorescent nightgown hefting a shaft of unyielding steel in her right hand. She was as adept with it, he knew, as any soldier.

He leaned back against the wall as he watched her head for the door. “Don’t you think,” he said softly, “that if you’re going to fight that a little more substantial armor would be in order?”

She glanced down at her nearly naked self, suddenly conscious that she was not exactly dressed for traditional battle.

“Don’t worry.” He walked over to where she stood fuming silently and gently removed the sword from her hand, laid it aside. “I promise I’ll take Mudge along, if that’s what you want. He could use the exercise anyway. His current condition is partly your fault. None of us suspected that in addition to knowing how to use a sword and bow and arrows and pike and knives and fighting staff and battle-axe and mace that you could handle a cook pot and stove equally well. He’s gotten fat on your cooking, as have I. As soon as I assure him there’s no danger involved this time and that I’ll be paying all expenses he’ll be eager to come along. That’s Mudge, always raring to visit new places and explore new lands and cities.”

“Sure he is. He might find a whorehouse he hasn’t visited before. You promise you’ll take him with you?”

“I promise.” She put her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes against him. There was nothing between his body and hers save a nightgown and bathrobe, and those hardly counted.

“In that case, why are we standing here wasting the rest of the night talking when we could be over there not talking?” She nodded toward the disheveled bed.

He swallowed. “Don’t you think maybe I ought to start packing as long as we’re already awake?”

She tugged him gently in the direction of the sheets. “You need some rest before starting on such a long journey. I’ll help you pack. The first thing we need to find is your staff, and I know right where it is.”

III

He had in mind to make an early start, but it was mid-morning before Talea finally let him crawl out of the bed. The pale brown sheets were all twisted around her as she lay sprawled in the middle of the mattress, watching him as he dressed. She looked like a vanilla swirl in the middle of a chocolate sundae.

“Maybe I could put off leaving for another week or two.”

She laughed at that as she sat up, shaking out covers and her shoulder length red hair. “I don’t think so. Another night’s ‘rest’ and neither one of us will be able to walk.”

He slipped on his boots, shaky as he balanced first on one leg, then the other. “You know where my old backpack is?” She nodded. “Give me one change of clothing, plenty of dried jerky for noshing on between towns, and anything else you think I’ll find useful. That and my staff, and I’ll have Mudge ready to go by the time you have everything packed.”

“Pity you can’t leave your staff here.”

“Sorry. I might need it on the trip.” He ducked the pillow she threw at him. “What’s left of the duar’s already packaged for the trek. You can tie it to the top of my pack.” He tested one boot, then the other. “I feel naked going off like this, without that instrument resting against my ribs.”

She put her head down on the remaining pillow. “I wish you weren’t going, Jonny-Tom. But since you are, I’m going to think every day what a safe, relaxing time you’ll be having. You’ll make the best possible ship connections and you’ll be back here weeks early.” She rolled her eyes ceilingward. “Just don’t forget to put out the garbage when you leave.”

He made a face as he left the room.

The spiral staircase was located just oif the parlor. As he climbed toward the attic he went over what he was going to say to Mudge. Getting the otter out of the house was going to be harder than pulling a tooth.

“Mudge?” He raised the trap door and peered into the room. “Mudge, you awake yet?” No reply. The sharply slanted roof forced him to stay in the center of the chamber. It was filled with piles of gifts, many of which had been forced on him by the grateful citizens of Ospenspri, the city he and Clothahump had recently rescued from the deleterious effects of the wandering perambulator. Most remained unopened. A single porthole allowed sunlight to enter from outside.