neetha Napew - The Paths Of The Perambulator

The wizard nodded. “We must certainly give it our best effort.”

“ ‘Our’ best effort.” Jon-Tom moved to the back of the jeep and began unpacking his duar. Clothahump moved over to put a hand on the young man’s wrist.

“No, my boy. Leave this one to me. The citizens of this poor community have suffered enough.”

Jon-Tom swallowed his hurt. He knew nothing of the mechanism that had devastated Ospenspri, and he’d had many occasions on which to learn the error of false pride. It was time to abide by the turtle’s wish.

The fox watched them intently as Sorbl aided Clothahump in his preparations. A second distorted figure came hobbling over the dirt to join them. It made for Jon-Tom.

He turned to the newcomer as the bent shape drew close. “We’re friends. We’re going to try to help you. But my mentor there needs plenty of room to work his magic and— He stopped in mid-sentence, staring. Despite the hunchback, there was something almost familiar about the oncoming figure. That was absurd, of course, but still, that outline, those eyes, those whiskers . . .

“Don’t tell me to get lost, you ‘airy son of an ape!”

“Mudge?” Jon-Tom couldn’t take his eyes off the figure. It was nearer now, and he could see the speaker more clearly. Bent, duty, undistinguished—and unmistakable. “Mudge, it is you!”

“O’ course it’s me, you bloody oversized naked monkey! ‘Ave you gone blind? Me ‘ead ‘appens to be a mite nearer the ground at the moment, but it ain’t by choice, wot? Me face is still the same, though. So’s yours, I see. As ugly as ever.”

A warm feeling spread throughout Jon-Tom’s body. “Mudge, it’s good to see you again. Even under these circumstances.”

“Circumstances ain’t the ‘alf of it, mate.” The otter nodded toward the jeep. “There’s ‘is sorcerership, senile as ever, and ‘is sot of an apprentice. Would ‘e ‘ave any booze with ‘im, do you know? I could use a good stiff one, if ‘e ain’t drunk all the liquor betwixt ‘ere an’ the southern ocean. I never could understand those people wot drinks to excess.”

“That sounds pretty funny coming from you, Mudge.”

“Why? I never drink to excess, mate. Me body don’t know the meanin’ of the word. I just drink till I’m full. Then I piss it out and start over. So I never reach excess, wot? Tell me, wot are you and ‘is nibs doin’ so far from ‘is tree? I’d think you’d be hunkered down south, warm an’ cozy an’ waiting for winter.”

“Perhaps you’ve noticed something a bit out of the ordinary in the world these past few weeks?”

The otter chuckled, shook his head. “You always did ‘ave the gift of understatement, mate. Aye, you could say that, if you’d call the world goin’ totally mad a bit out o’ the ordinary.”

“How’d you get all the way up here, Mudge? Why are you in the same sorry state as the Ospensprites? Not that your usual state isn’t sorry, but this is different.”

“Just lucky, I guess, mate. Well, I ‘appened to be doin’ some work down in Malderpot—it ain’t such a bad place anymore since they ‘ad that recent change o’ government— and I ‘ad occasion to depart the vicinity in a bit of a ‘urry.”

“Who’d you cheat this time?”

“Wot, me cheat someone, mate? You sting me to the quick, you does.”

“Forget it,” Jon-Tom said dryly. They were both watching the jeep. Clothahump was assembling something out of pieces of wood salvaged from the crude fence enclosing the mud fountain, adding unrecognizable devices from his pack and what looked like a few kitchen utensils.

“ ‘Tis been an interestin’ month for old Mudge,” the otter went on. “Ever since this out-o’-the-ordinary’s took hold of us. You never know wot you’re goin’ to wake up facin’ in the mirror, much less wot you’re liable to find yourself in bed with. Why, there was the night in Okot I was dallyin’ with the most luscious capybara lady you ever set eyes on—you know I like ‘em big, mate.”

“You like anything that walks, talks, and is a member of the opposite sex, Mudge.”

“So I’m enthusiastic instead o’ discriminatin’. Anyways, there we were, just about to consummate the evenin’, when suddenly, right before me very eyes, not to mention beneath me chest, she turns into somethin’ with ‘alf a dozen extra see-alls, two ‘eads, and all the rest o’ the critical body parts badly out o’ place as well. O’ course I looked just about the same, but 1 tell you, mate, the damage to our respective libidos was nothin’ short o’ devastating.”

“I can imagine. Spare me the sordid aftermath.”

“That was the trouble, mate. Weren’t no sordid aftermath. Weren’t much foremath, either.” He sighed with the remembrance. “Anyways, was after that that I ‘ad me little difficulty in Malderpot and decided that wot with winter comin’ on an’ all, it was time for me to ‘ead south again. Fast. But I thought to take some time to linger up ‘ere in be-ooti-ful Ospenspri— and it were beautiful, you can take me word on that, mate.”

“So Clothahump has told me.”

“Right. So I’m doin’ a little sight-seein’, takin’ in the air and the good food and an occasional compliant an’ ‘opefully drunk lady or two, when all of a sudden another one o’ those bleedin’ suddenlike changes comes over me. An’ the ‘hole bloomin’ city and everyone in it as well. Only this time, a couple o’ minutes go by, and then a couple o’ ‘ours, and suddenly we’re realizin’ that the change is ‘ere to stay. First off everyone goes a little crazy, not that I blames ‘em. I went a mite bonkers meself. Then the panic goes away and this permanent depression kind o’ takes ‘old of you. Like wakin’ up one mornin’ to find someone’s stolen your balls while you were asleep.” He jabbed a thumb skyward.

“An” over it all, that bloody stinkin’ black cloud, sneerin’ down at us an’ mockin’ the memories o’ our former lives. Pretty pitiful, mate. So that’s ‘ow I come to be ‘ere talkin’ to you like this, all bent over and stove up like everyone else. I ‘ope ‘is wizardness can do somethin’ about it, because most o’ these folks are just about at the end o’ their rope.”

“If anyone can do anything, Clothahump can,” Jon-Tom replied with pride.

“Aye, if ‘e ‘asn’t forgotten ‘alf o’ wotever spell ‘e’s a mind to try. Two ‘undred years ago I wouldn’t worry, but ‘e ain’t the wizard ‘e used to be, you know.”

“None of us are what we used to be, Mudge.”

The otter spat sideways. “If you’re goin’ to go an’ get profound on me, lad, I’m goin’ to leave. I’ve ‘ad about enough solemn pronouncements this past week to last me a lifetime. Say”—he squinted sharply up at his old friend— “wot brings you up from the wizard’s cozy ‘ome to this cold part o’ the world, anyways?”

“The very thing that’s ruined this town. The same thing that’s causing similar changes all over the world. Unless something’s done to stop it, these perturbations, as Clothahump calls them, will keep getting worse.”

“I see. An’ you and mister Clothyrump aim to try and do something about ‘em? Wot’s behind it, lad? Some kind o’ runaway natural condition?”

“Yes and no. These kinds of changes happen all the time but usually on a much smaller scale and always with far less frequency. The problem is that someone or something is making sure that the cause of all the changes sticks around. Clothahump thinks whoever’s doing it is completely mad.” He nodded in the direction of the mountainous slope with its blighted orchards. “Whoever’s responsible is holed up with the perambulator, the change-inducer, somewhere north of here. That’s where we’re headed.”