Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

'imself a sorcerer."

Clothahump ignored this tirade and continued to

slurp daintily at his meal.

"Don't give me that crap, matel You and 'im *ave

always been in league with one another against me.

Don't try to deny it! 'Tis been that way all along."

Jon-Tom continued to suck on the Finger his friend

had attempted to amputate, spoke quietly. "He was

just supposed to find you and send you a message."

He turned to face the wizard. "You were just sup-

posed to send him a message."

Clothahump considered, the spoon halfway to his

mouth. "I did send a message, my boy, and you were

correct in your concerns. He was quite a distance

away, in a town near Kreshfarm-in-the-Geegs."

"It weren't far enough!" Mudge howled. He tried

to sit down, but the enveloping ropes prevented the

maneuver, and he had to settle for leaning up against

the threads. "Seems it'll never be far enough to get

me away from you two arseholes! It won't stop me

from tryin', though. I'll never stop tryin'l" He glared

accusingly at Jen-Tom.

"Why, mate? I thought after that little sea voyage I

*elped you out with we were even up."

Jen-Tom found himself unable to meet the otter's

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68

gaze. "We were... as far as that particular trip was

concerned. Unfortunately, something new has come

up." He tried to smile. "You know how highly I value

your company and assistance."

"And you want good old 'appy-go-lucky Mudge

along to 'old your bleedin* 'and, right? Or maybe to

push you along in your pram?"

When Jon-Tom didn't reply, the otter turned his

attention back to the kitchen table. "Untie me, you

disgustin' ball of reptilian corruption, or when I get

out of 'ere, I swears I'll shove you in on yourself and

cement up all the openin's!"

"Now, now." Clothahump dabbed delicately at his

mouth with a linen napkin. "Let us remember who

we are talking to."

"Oh, I know who I'm talkin' to, all right. The

world's master meddler. I don't care anymore, you

see? So I can say wotever I want. Turn me into a

snake, turn me into a worm, even turn me into a

bloody 'uman. See if I care. Because you've gone too

far this time, the two of you, and I've 'ad it! I'm not

goin' anywhere." He nodded in Jon-Tom's direction.

"Especially not with 'im. Not across any oceans, not

into any fights, not to the local market to buy chestnuts.

Nowhere, nohow, no way!"

Jon-Tom switched to rubbing his bitten finger.

"Ever hear of Quasequa, Mudge?"

The otter frowned down at him. "Qua wot?"

"Quasequa. It lies far to the south of the Bellwoods.

Exquisite country, a beautiful tropical city built out

on a vast lake. The kind of place an otter, it seems to

me, would find downright paradisaical."

"Charming, friendly inhabitants;' Clothahump added

without glancing up from his meal, "who know how

to make a stranger feel at home. Especially, I am

told, the ladies."

TBS MOMENT OF TJXE MAGfCUUr

69

Mudge seemed to waver, but only for an instant-

Then his determination returned.

"Oh, no, you ain't goin' to smooth-talk me into it

again. Not this time. I know 'ow you two operate, I

does." He nodded again toward Jon-Tom. "This one's

*alf solicitor and 'alf devil. Between the two of you,

you could sell ice to polar bears- No, I'll 'ave none of

it this time. Do what you want to me."

Jon-Tom approached the cage, his best profes-

sional smile fairly lighting up the dim kitchen. He

was careful, however, not to get within biting dis-

tance of his best friend.

"Aw, c'mon, Mudge. One more time. For old times*

sake. Be a friend." The otter didn't reply, stared

stolidly at the far wall.

"I know you're upset right now, and I can under-

stand why. I sympathize, really. I meant it when I

said I had nothing to do with bringing you here like

this. I was going to come out and meet you, but

Clothahump decided that it was important to try and

save time, I guess, so he brought you here this way

without telling me of his plans."

*Time. Let me tell you somethin' about time, mate.

Do you 'ave any idea where I was when 'is sorcerership

there yanked me out of reality and into nothingness?

Do you 'ave any idea what five minutes in Chaos is

like?"

"There are somewhat smoother methods of generat-

ing the transition," Clothahump murmured, "but

they take too much time."

"Do they now? Time, wot? I'll tell you about time."

A wistful expression came over his face. "There I

was, sittin* in Shorvan's Gambling Palace in down-

town Toothrust... which is a good place for a gam-

bling chap like meself to be... 'oldin* twelve of a

kind. Twelve of a kind!" He almost broke out sobbing,

but managed to restrain himself.

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70

"And the pot... there was enough gold in that pot,

me friends, to set me up for three, four years o*

comfort. So I'm gettin' ready to make me play, see,

because I know wot the score is and that the one

chap with a chance to stop me 'as to be bluffin'

because 'e ain't 'oldin' diddly-squat in 'is paws. This

bum's a foxie with no moxie, see? I can read 'is

bloomin' whiskers, and I know I've got 'im beat, I

know I dol So I push in all me chips, a great

galumphin' pile won at great labor and pain, and

wot do you think 'appens to me and me twelve of a

kind, eh? Wot?" Jon-Tom said nothing.

"I'm jerked bodily into Unfamiliar Chaos, which

ain't no garden spot, I can tell you, and then finds

meself bound up like a B&D 'oliday gift in this

bloody cage so's that tuft o' blotchy, moth-eaten

feathers over there can tell me that I've been sum-

moned hence because you, mate, needs me 'elp on

one of your forthcomin' suicidal excursions."

Jon-Tom glared at Ctothahump, who appeared

not in the least distressed. "You did say, my boy, that

you wanted his company on this journey. If anything,

I expressed a dissenting opinion."

"I said that I wanted his help, his willing help."

"Best not to waste time," the turtle harrumphed,

"debating semantics."

"If you don't want to waste time," Jon-Tom said,

**why not send us to Quasequa tlie same way you

brought him here?"

"It's not quite that simple, my boy. Bringing and

sending are quite different things. The spells are

more complex than you can imagine. Bringing takes

enough out of you, and 1 am not at all adept, I

confess, at sending. If I were better at either, I'd

bring this Markus person here. That would simplify

everything, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, 1 cannot do

TUB MOUKKT OF THE SS.AOIC3AM

71

that. I was only able to manage this recall because of

your strong association with this creature and—"

"Who're you callin' a 'creature,' you fat-brained..."

Mudge hesitated, latched onto a new thought. "Wait

a minim. Who's this 'Markus' you're talkin' about?"

"Someone I have to talk to," Jon-Tom explained.

"In beautiful Quasequa."

"Ain't nowheres as beautiful as a gamin' room with

a big pot o* gold lyin' in it waitin' for the takin'.

Twelve of a kind. The draw o' me life." He looked

back to Clothahump again. "The least you could've

done, your sorcerership, was to 'ave brung me 'ere

first-class instead of economy."

"I am not one to indulge in frivolous, unnecessary

expense."

"Right, guv, and I'm sure you travels steerage