neetha Napew - The Time Of The Transferance

“We all have hidden talents, Mudge.” Talea was cleaning off the stove as she spoke. Clothahump’s tree-expanding spell hadn’t provided for a separate dining area so the rough-hewn table was located in the middle of the kitchen.

“That we do,” the otter agreed contentedly. “Wot might you suppose mine would be?”

“I think you’d make a fine salesman,” she replied, wiping her hands with a damp rag. “You’ve always been as fast with your tongue as with your feet.”

“Crikey, that’s wot all the ladies tell me. But, says I, why haul a lot o’ goods around the country to sell when ‘tis easier and cleaner to relieve folks o’ their coin without burdenin’ them with shoddy goods in return?”

“Something called morals.” Jon-Tom was finishing the last of his lunch.

The otter’s brows drew together. “Morals, morals—let me see now. I’m sure I’ve ‘card that word somewhere before, lad, but at the moment its meanin’ escapes me. Some sort o’ fruit or somethin’, ain’t it? Grows up north somewheres?” Jon-Tom could only shake his head ruefully.

Mudge slipped out of his chair and stretched. “ Tis been a wonderfully relaxing few days, it has, but I know when I’ve overstayed me welcome. No, you needn’t try to talk me out o’ leavin’.” He put up a restraining paw despite the fact that his hosts were not exactly imploring him to change his mind. “Far be it from me to strain a friend’s largess. I can see that ‘tis time for old Mudge to be movin’ on. They say the opportunities for ungainful employment in Malderpot are ‘ot just now. I think I’ll mosey on up that way and check out the scenery, so to speak.”

Jon-Tom put his fork aside. “Just a minute. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Forgettin’ somethin’?” The otter mumbled to himself for a moment, then he said brightly, “O’ course. Don’t worry, mate, I’ll see to me kit and me weapons before I takes me leave. Wouldn’t do for old Mudge to go traipsin’ off without ‘is weapons, now would it?”

“Certainly not, considering the length of the journey that lies ahead of us.”

“Us? Long journey? Oh, you mean that brief ocean voyage you were tellin’ me about. I’m sure it’ll do you well, mate. The sea seems to agree with you. When you get back you ‘ave to look me up so you can tell me all about it.”

Jon-Tom’s sense of humor was ebbing rapidly. “You’re forgetting something else. You’re coming with me, remember? You agreed.”

“Piffle. Surely you didn’t take that serious, lad? Now, if your life were in danger or it were a truly serious situation, why, I wouldn’t ‘esitate to tag along to back you up.”

“You don’t think the fact that my duar is shattered is serious?”

Mudge shrugged. “Serious for you maybe; not serious for anybody else. Not my responsibility, it ain’t. As I said, if you were off to save the world....”

“You’d be so eager to come along you’d be tripping over your own feet, I know,” Jon-Tom said evenly. “Now you listen to me, Mudge. You go upstairs and pack your things, but not for Malderpot. We’re leaving for Yarrowl in half an hour.”

“Yarrowl? I ain’t got no business in Yarrowl, mate.” The otter stared back at him out of steely dark eyes. “I might accompany you for a day or so just so’s to make sure you start off on the right road, but then I promise you mate, I’d just kind o’ slip away quiet-like some night in the woods.”

“You never did anything like that before.”

“Me conscience were never clear about it before. Knowin’ this time that I weren’t abandonin’ you to some ‘orrible danger, I wouldn’t have a second thought about it.”

“You’re going to do exactly as Jon-Tom says.” Both of them turned to look at Talea.

“Don’t you o’ all folks go appealin’ to me ethics, redfur.”

“Why would I appeal to the nonexistent?” She walked from the sink to a nearby cabinet that held her household papers, searched through the second drawer until she found several sheets clipped together. As she spoke her eyes traveled down the pages.

“Mudge the otter Expenses Incurred.” The otter gaped at her, then at Jon-Tom, who wore an equally blank expression. “Room and board; three meals a day, sometimes four; evening snacks, transportation to and from Lynchbany; laundry—want me to read you the totals, or should I just go on with the list?”

“Now wait a bloody minute, luv! I’m your bloomin’ friend from years back, I am. Did I charge you for the times I bailed you out o’ damp jails, or protected your arse against a concealed blade? Wot’s all this rot about expenses, then?”

She handed him the papers. “Keep that for your records, if you want. I have a copy.”

Mudge’s eyes ran rapidly down the list. “This is bleedin’ outrageous, is wot it is! Tis not only illegal and immoral, ‘tis outright insultin’. Wot kind o’ friend o’ me youth are you, anyways?”

“A cautious one. That’s one thing you taught me. Of course,” and she smiled sweetly at the furious otter, “we can forget the whole bill.”

“You’re bloody right we can.” He ripped the sheets to shreds and with great dignity deposited them in the middle of the table. “That don’t mean snake-pucky. ‘Tis fit for nothin’ but wipin’ one’s arse.”

“I’m sure you noted that toilet paper was included on the list,” she replied calmly. “On the contrary, that is a perfectly valid contract. Reception of services is sufficient proof of agreement to pay for services received. That’s one thing Jon-Tom taught me.”

“Bloody solicitor,” the otter grumbled, glaring up at Jon-Tom. “I made no such arrangements to pay for anythin’ when I came to stay ‘ere as your guest.”

“The judge won’t know that. Who do you think he’ll believe, Mudge?” She walked over and stroked the fur on the back of his neck. He jerked away, but not very violently. “The honest, respectable wife of a noted local citizen, or a thoroughly disreputable peculator like yourself?”

“Peculator?” The otter turned on Jon-Tom. “Will you listen to this female, mate? You’re ruinin’ ‘er, you are.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He leaned back in his chair. “She doesn’t look particularly ruined to me.”

“Which’ll it be, Mudge?” She looked at her husband. “You were right. This is almost as much fun as carving someone up with a knife.”

“It’s pretty much the same thing where I come from, light of my life.”

Mudge sat down heavily. Talea didn’t let up on him. “Answer me, water rat. Do you ship out or pay up?”

Displaying his unparalleled mastery of the blue funk, the otter stared at the floor for several moments. Finally he squinted up at Jon-Tom. “You promise me this ain’t no ruse? You ain’t tryin’ to trick poor Mudge into takin’ off on another o’ your wild, life threatenin’ trips to the backside o’ hell?”

Jon-Tom solemnly raised his right hand. “I swear we’re only taking a little ocean voyage to get my duar repaired. I don’t anticipate any trouble and I’m not going to go looking for any.”

“Huh,” the otter grunted. He swiveled his head to look at Talea. “Wot ‘appens when we gets back?”

“I tear up all copies of your bill.”

“Bill, that’s a laugh.” He licked his lips and whiskers. “Do I get me room back?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Wot if this don’t turn out to be the picnic Jon-Tom claims it to be?”

“I’ll bury you in the backyard. That far I’ll go. I’ve no objection to having you around so long as I don’t have to feed you, listen to you, or smell you.”

“You always was generous to a fault, luv. Was one o’ the things I liked about you. Almost otterish.” He smiled in spite of himself. It was impossible for Mudge to stay gloomy for long. “Ah well. If one’s to be outfoxed ‘ow better than by the sauciest vixen in the ‘ole Bellwoods.” He rose to confront Jon-Tom. “I’ll be comin’ along then, mate, but I warn you: If you’re tryin’ to pull a fast one I’ll be away from your side faster than a celibate at a doxy’s convention.”