neetha Napew - The Paths Of The Perambulator

Jon-Tom put a restraining hand on the otter’s wrist. “No. Let’s see what Colin can do first.”

“Wot, an’ wait while ‘e entertains ‘im at our expense? Better to ‘ave a go now while we’ve ‘alf a chance to surprise ‘im.”

“I said wait.”

The otter whispered something particularly vile, and Jon-Tom bridled, but he knew Mudge wouldn’t attack on his own. Being the first into a fray was not the otter’s idea of sensible strategy. So he fumed and kept his hand off his weapon.

For his part, Jon-Tom wondered what their best move would be should Colin’s reading fail to assuage the wolverine’s fury. Certainly he was big enough and fast enough to block the corridor he was occupying. Not even Sorbl would be able to slip past, for the roof was within reach of the wolverine’s weapon.

“My future, then, and be quick about it,” Braglob demanded, gesturing threateningly with the ax.

“You want this done right; it can’t be rushed. First the ground must be prepared.” Colin leaned forward and began smoothing the dust away from the polished stone beneath. “Everything must be just so, or the casting will be useless.” Using the dust and dirt he’d gathered, he drew an ellipse on the floor. “Perfection in preparation is the key to a successful reading.” He added several arcane symbols in the center of the ellipse. “See here. By concentrating the runes on this spot we’ll have the best look at your immediate future.”

Braglob leaned forward interestedly to study the symbols. “I have practiced the art, but I do not recognize these.”

“They’re not uncommon. It’s just hard to delineate them properly when all you have to form them with is dirt and dust.”

Braglob leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the symbols. “You are right. I believe I do recognize them.”

“That’s good, because it’s almost time to cast.” So saying, he grabbed the neck of the sack tightly with both hands and, with a swiftness even Mudge would have been hard-pressed to match, brought it down in a sweeping arc to land with a loud whomp on top of the wolverine’s skull. Previously Jon-Tom had only considered their metaphysical weight.

Braglob’s lower jaw dropped. Colin clobbered him with the bag of bone and stone a second time, and the wolverine keeled over to land chin first in the center of the circle as the sack exploded, sending the contents flying.

Mudge ran forward, bent to examine their opponent’s face. “Out cold. Well struck, mate. That’s what I calls predictin’ the future.”

“Yes, I thought a saw a period of extended rest in store for our combative friend here. It’s not easy to read the runes through the leather.” He eyed the shattered sack dolefully. “This will be hard to replace.”

“I’ll pay for the sewin’,” said Mudge grandly. “Wot say we leave ‘ere and find ourselves the nearest seamstress? Preferably one with talented ‘ands.” He gave the koala a hand in recovering the scattered runes.

“Should we finish him once and for all?” Dormas gave Jon-Tom’s ramwood staff a nudge. He didn’t like the idea of killing an unconscious opponent, but he looked to Clothahump for advice.

To his considerable relief the wizard agreed with his feelings. “My own prediction is that he will sleep for the rest of the day. This I base on my own reading of clever Colin’s runes.” There was a hint of a twinkle in the turtle’s eye. “When he recovers, he will be mad again, only it will be a different and far less threatening kind of mad. If he is guilty of anything, it is of acting like one of his own kind. I know wolverines. Braglob will not come after us. They have short memories as well as short tempers, and this one has a great deal of reality to catch up with. When he comes ‘round, he will have other things on his mind. Besides which, his species has no taste for an extended hunt and we will be well on our way.

“No, I think our misguided friend will be more interested in returning to his home and settling scores with his old tormentors rather than with us. Besides which, I am opposed to any unnecessary killing.”

Mudge had tired of hunting for bits of bone and wood and had been listening silently to the wizard’s declamation. Now he could no longer restrain himself.

“Unnecessary killin’? This oversized cowflop tries to destroy the whole world and then us in particular, an’ you say snuffin’ ‘im would amount to unnecessary killin’? Me, I never saw a killin’ so necessary!”

“You heard Clothahump,” Jon-Tom warned his friend. “There’ll be no bloodshed here.”

“Oh, who am I to argue with ‘Is Sorcerership’s ethics? I ain’t no grand master of magic. I’m just a simple gambler, I am. I just like to cover me bets right is all, especially when it’s me life that’s been pushed into the pot. ‘No unnecessary killing.’ If I’ve ‘card that once, I’ve ‘eard it a thousand times from the both of you twits. I’m sick of it, you lot! Don’t you understand that there ain’t no such thing as an unnecessary killin’? It defines itself, it does. I calls it takin’ out insurance, is wot I calls it.”

“Dormas, are you ready?” The hinny nodded. “Sorbl?” The owl landed atop the pile of supplies and responded with an agreeable hoot. “Let’s go, then.” He and Clothahump led them up the hallway, past the wolverine’s unconscious form.

“Oh, yes, let’s go, by all means,” Mudge grumbled as he shoved both paws into the pockets of his shorts and stomped off in their wake. “Nobody wants me advice, anyway.” His grousing echoed through the corridor as they retraced their steps to the world outside.

Jon-Tom forced himself to sound casual as he spoke to Talea. “You’ll come back to Lynchbany with us, won’t you?” He held his breath while awaiting her reply.

She said nothing for several minutes, staring straight ahead and looking solemn, but finally could contain the smile she’d been holding back no longer. “Of course, I’m coming with you, you silly spellsinger. Where else would I go in this bleak and barren country?”

He swallowed. “Maybe—maybe you’ll stick around a little longer this time? Not,” he added hastily, “that I’m trying to put any kind of restraints on you or anything. I know how much you value your independence.”

Her smile seemed to shove the clouds back to the moun-taintops as they emerged from the hallway onto the trail outside. “You know, Jon-Tom, anything can get old. Anything can become boring. Even independence.”

He had composed a lengthy and carefully considered reply when he caught Clothahump grinning at him. He understood what the wizard was trying to tell him immediately. There were times when be talked too much and ended up talking himself into a predicament from which he couldn’t extricate himself and in which he need not have foundered in the first place. So he just nodded down at Talea while adopting his most mature and farsighted expression.

“I understand.”

She appeared to find this the ideal response because she rose on tiptoes, grabbed him firmly around the neck, and bent him forcefully to her. He held the kiss until his back began to hurt.

Finally he straightened, caught his breath, and turned to regard the poorly constructed fortress in which they’d encountered so much wonder and danger. His ears still rang faintly from the force of the perambulator’s departure. It was a sight and sound he would never forget, a memory he would be able to call upon during times of darkness to rejuvenate and inspire his spirits. It had been his good fortune to look upon the majesty of the universe.

Hell, he’d jammed with it.

They made excellent progress as travelers always do when they are on their way home, and camped that evening on the far side of the mountain pass.