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

complete change of heart and was all but pushing

Jon-lbm out the door.

"No reason to wake 'is nibs," the otter told him,

smiling reassuringly. "Let the poor bugger 'ave 'is

rest."

"Tell me about this game called artimum. I've

heard of it before but I don't really know how—"

"Now don't you start, mate. Tell you about it when

we're well on our way. Wouldn't want anyone else to

get the wrong idea about old Mudge, would you?

Besides, there's more interestin' tales I've yet to tell

you. Did I mention yesterday about the vixen in

Tenwattle who... ?"

The rain slid offJon-Tom's waterproof iridescent

lizard-skin cape, which he kept well over his head,

while Mudge merely placed his felt cap in his pack to

protect it. Other than that he ignored the rain, for

otters are as comfortable soaking wet as they are

bone dry.

Heavier drops rang some of the bell leaves which

gave this country its name, but for the most pan the

trees were quiet. A tendaria rested on a nearby

76

THE MOMEHT OF TBB MAGICIAN 77

branch. The blue-and-puce flying amphibian sat with

its mouth agape and head back as it collected rainwa-

ter in the flexible sac attached to its lower jaw. It

would carry the fresh water back to the clay-sealed

nest it had made in the trunk of some hollow tree

and add it to the growing basin therein. In time the

female of the species would lay her eggs in the nest.

The young flying amphibians would eventually hatch

and mature in the protected pool, remaining there

until they were old enough to fly and breathe air.

"Really, Mudge, don't you think it's about time you

gave some thought to altering your life-style?"

"And wot's wrong with me life-style?"

"For one thing, you couldn't exactly call it productive.

You're a sharp guy, Mudge. Yet you choose to spend

your life as a wastrel."

"I calls it freedom, mate. And it's a challenge

walkin' the fine line between the legal and the

debatable, leavin' it to everyone else to guess which

side o' the line you're on, on any particular day." He

winked broadly. "Of course, the trick o' such livin* is

to 'ave one foot on each side o' the line at all limes,

and to be able to dance back and forth without

gettin' caught on the one side or the other. Never a

dull moment."

"I know it's an exciting way to live, but it doesn't

seem to have much of a future to it. I'll bet you don't

even have enough put aside to pay for a decent

funeral."

"Funeral? Hell, mate, I know them that spends

their 'ole lives worryin' about 'ow they're goin' to be

buried. The goal o' their life is death. 'Ardly seems

worth livin' at all. Might as well slit your throat and

miss out on all the worryin'."

"Go ahead and make light of it, but there'll be no

one to cry at your funeral. No pallbearers, no

Alan Dean Foster

78

mourners. Or do you think your thieving acquain-

tances will take the trouble to show up?"

Mudge shrugged. "I don't worry about it none,

but 1 do know there'll be at least one there to weep

for me passin'."

"Yeah, who?"

"Why, you, mate," and the otter grinned up at him

so infectiously that jon-Tom had to turn away lest

Mudge see his own smile-

"Maybe, just maybe, but I still think you could do

more with your life."

"Plannin' takes all the surprise out o' life, mate.

Me, I'd rather take it as it 'its me, even if it some-

times *its kind o' 'ard."

They marched on, arguing about life and mean-

ings and directions. Mudge cited chapter and verse

from personal experience—always frenetic, often foul,

but never dull. jon-Tom countered with quotes from

everyone from B. F. Skinner to Woody Alien. None of

his arguments had the slightest impact on the free-

living otter.

They passed the glade where the footprints of

M'nemaxa still showed as deep depressions in solid

granite; passed through dense, familiar woods; and

finally emerged on the banks of the river Tailaroam.

Westward the great river tumbled and churned on

its way toward the distant Glittergeist Sea, while far

off to the east lay the impressive range of mountains

known as Zaryt's Teeth, which gave birth to the

Tailaroam's tributaries.

Their immediate concern was the broad section of

fast-running river directly in front of them. It flowed

from east to west, and their course led due south.

"How do we get across?"

"As for me, mate," Mudge told him, "I'd as soon

swim it in a couple of minutes- I'd enjoy it more than

these past days' trek." He glanced around, searching

THB MOMEMT OF THE MAWCUN

79

the shoreline. "If we can find a nice dry log, I'll give

you a push across. Wouldn't want 'is nosyness to

think I weren't takin' good care o* you."

They hunted for and found a suitable log. Jon-

Tom sat astride the fallen tree with his long legs

stretched out in front of him, clinging to the otter's

clothing and his own belongings while struggling to

balance himself as Mudge pushed out into the river.

Fortunately, the otter's sense of equilibrium was bet-

ter developed than his own. Every time it looked like

he was about to tip over, Mudge adjusted from

behind. They arrived on the opposite shore of the

Tailaroam without Jon-Tom's getting his toes wet.

Mudge climbed onto the sandy bank, shook him-

self off, and then lay down in the sun until his slick

fur was completely dry. As soon as he'd dressed, they

started south along a well-trod and easy-to-follow

trail.

Soon they found themselves in the Lower Dugga-

kurra Hills, a landscape of rounded boulders worn

smooth by the action of wind and rain. Thick brush

thrived in pockets of dark soil between the rocks.

Already they were starting to leave behind the larger

conifers that dominated the expanse of forest called

the Bellwoods, and the tall tropical hardwoods of the

lake region would not put in an appearance for some

time yet.

Jon-Tom took his time breaking camp the follow-

ing morning, quenching the embers of their camp-

fire and scattering the ashes. Time was important,

but he didn't want to arrive in Quasequa too exhausted

to think.

The trail had grown more and more obscure the

deeper they'd penetrated into the rocky terrain, so

he wasn't surprised to see the confused expression

on the otter's face when Mudge returned from scout-

ing the path ahead.

Alan Dean Foster

80

Or was there more there this morning than just

confusion? He rose,-kicked the last splinters of smok-

ing wood apart, and brushed dust from his hands.

"Something wrong? If it's the trail -.."

" Tisn't that, guv. It's... well, you'd better come

and 'ave a looksee for yourself."

"A looksee at what?"

Mudge said evenly, "I think the ground ahead's on

fire."

Jon-Tom swallowed his ready retort as he saw that

the otter was in dead earnest. Hurriedly he slipped

into his backpack and followed his companion

southward. Mudge underscored the seriousness of

his claim by not talking as they marched.

Sure enough, as they topped a small pass between

the boulders, Jon-Tom could see vapor rising off to

the left. It was only after they'd hiked another mile

that he could be certain it wasn't smoke-

Mudge could see the difference, too. "Sorry, mate-

1 turned back to camp before comin' this far. That