neetha Napew - The Paths Of The Perambulator

“Poor Braglob,” Jon-Tom murmured. “May he finally find contentment and happiness within himself.”

“ ‘Appiness ‘e may find.” Mudge scratched at one ear.

“But contentment? Not bloody likely. I never saw a contented wolverine. Those folks are always upset about somethin’. Even when they’re makin’ love, they’re yellin’ and screamin’ at one another. Fortunately there ain’t many of ‘em around. Probably because they don’t get along any better in bed than they do in society.”

Jon-Tom turned to face Clothahump. The wizard was leaning against a log on the opposite side of the campfire. His eyes were half shut, and he appeared to be contemplating the night sky, a broad sweep of stars and constellations very different from those Jon-Tom had grown up with.

“What do you think happened to the perambulator, sir?”

“What?” The turtle glanced over at his young charge. “Went on its way, of course. Across the cosmos. Out of this universe and into another. I was just thinking: What if one could be controlled across such distances and brought back? What might we learn of reality? What images might we gaze upon, what mysteries might we solve?” He sighed deeply.

“That is a burden you will suffer under yourself one of these days, my boy. The pain of not knowing, the ache of ignorance, the compulsion to know what lies on the far side of the hill, while realizing that no matter how much you learn, there will always be another hill to surmount. That is the curse on a seeker of knowledge, the curse of never being satisfied.

“When I was very young and apprenticed to the famous sorcerer Jogachord, I would ask him new questions constantly until finally, tired of being pestered, he would say to me, ‘Does there have to be an answer for everything?’ And I would reply in utmost earnest, ‘Yes!’ Then he would smile at me and say, ‘Apprentice, with that attitude you will go far—provided no one kills you first.’ “

“The curse o’ never bein’ satisfied? I suffer from that meself,” Mudge declared. “Only, it don’t involve idiocies like ‘too much knowledge’.”

“We all know what it involves, Mudge,” said Talea dryly. “You don’t have to burden us with the details.”

The otter looked hurt. “Now, ‘ow do you know wot I was goin’ to say, luv?”

“Because given the slightest opportunity, you always talk about the same thing, water rat. You have a one-track mind.”

“Aye, but wot a pleasant track it is, especially when it leads to—”

“Mudge,” Jon-Tom said exasperatedly.

The otter put up both paws defensively. “All right, mate. I can see that you lot don’t share me favorite topic o’ conversation. You’ll just ‘ave to suffer along for the rest o’ the evenin’ without ‘earin’ about me glorious exploits concernin’—oop, forgot. I ain’t supposed to talk about that.”

A sudden thought made Jon-Tom sit up straight. “Hey, if Colin can see into tomorrow, I wonder if he can predict if I’ll ever get home or not?”

Clothahump shrugged as best he could without shoulders. “Anything is possible, my boy. It might be worthwhile to find out.”

“It’d be a damned sight more than worthwhile.” He let his gaze wander around the campsite. Dormas was sleeping soundly off to one side. Talea lay curled up next to him, her face a portrait of false innocence, the outline of her body a delicious sine curve against the ground. Mudge sat nearby, his paws behind his head and his cap pulled down over his eyes.

But where was their rune-reader? Come to think of it, where was Sorbl? He rose, nervously surveyed the encroaching night, and murmured to Clothahump. “Braglob? You think he’s been tracking us after all?”

“No, no, my boy. It is most unlikely. In any case, he would have been detected by now. The wolverine scent is a strong one, and there are sensitive noses among us.” He climbed to his feet and joined Jon-Tom hi scanning the forest. “But your concern is not misplaced. I, too, wonder where our friend and my apprentice have taken themselves. Sorbl! You good-for-nothing famulus, where are you?”

Jon-Tom cupped his hands to his mouth. “Colin! Colin, answer us!”

“Now wot? I can’t talk about love an’ now I can’t sleep.” The otter jumped up. “The people I get mixed up with!”

They spread out but didn’t have to search far. The two missing members of their party lay beneath the great spreading branches of a cocklegreen tree. They were singing softly to each other of their contentment and of life’s disappointments. The almost-empty bottle that Sorbl was clutching in one flexible wingtip provided an explanation both for their disappearance as well as the impromptu concert.

Clothahump wrenched it from his apprentice’s grasp and held it upside down. A few golden drops tumbled from the mouth. He shook it at the thoroughly inebriated owl.

“You useless bag of feathers, we accomplished what we set out to do! You were supposed to stop drinking. That was our agreement. Whatever was left was to be conserved for medicinal purposes only!”

“Thash whet”—the owl swallowed and appeared to having some difficulty speaking—”thash whet it was ushed for, Mashter.” He promptly fell over backward. “You don’t have to hit me, Mashter.”

“Disgusting.” Clothahump threw the empty bottle into the bushes. “And that wants to become a wizard.” He turned and marched angrily back toward the camp.

“I’ll say ‘tis disgustin’. It bloody well stinks.” Mudge leaned close to me owl’s face. “Why didn’t you come and get me if you were goin’ to ‘ave yourselves a bleedin’ party?”

“Didn’t—didn’t want to dishturb you.”

“And, besides,” Colin said, his words grave and slow, “there really wasn’t enough for three.”

Mudge glared over at the koala. “An’ you call yourself a friend?” He rose and stalked off in the wizard’s wake, leaving Jon-Tom alone with the two revelers. He rose and walked over to kneel next to the koala.

“Colin?”

“Who?”

“Hey, that’s my line,” chortled Sorbl. He and Colin started cackling hysterically.

Jon-Tom waited a minute or two before putting a hand on the koala’s shoulder and shaking him. “Colin, listen to me. This is serious. I need to know if you can read my future. I need to find out if I’ll ever be able to go home again, back to my own world.”

“Well, I might be able to,” the koala replied with enforced solemnity. “I just might. Except for one thing.”

“What one thing?” A hand came down on his shoulder, and he looked up into Talea’s moonlit face. She was smiling down hopefully at him.

Colin raised himself up until his lips were close to Jon-Tom’s ear. “I can’t read runes tonight.”

“You can’t? But you’ve read them at night before.”

“I know. But I can’t read them tonight.”

“Why not?”

The koala put a thick finger to his lips, leaned close again. “Because Mudge and I threw them in that river we passed this afternoon.” His face contorted, and he and Sorbl fell to laughing uncontrollably again.

Jon-Tom gaped at him. “You did what!”

“Threw ‘em in the river. Never did much care for rune-reading, anyways. Folks always bothering you, asking you the damnedest things, never leaving you alone. The hell with it. I’m going home and into my brother-in-law’s eucalyptus-leaf pressing business, like my sister always wanted me to. That’s a nice, sensible, respectable occupation.”

“You couldn’t have waited one more day, could you?” He sat heavily back on his heels. “I don’t suppose you can read the future without runes?”

“What d’you think I am, some kind of magician?” The koala was rapidly falling asleep.