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

He climbed out and Jon-Tom followed him.

Their captors backed off a bit, intimidated by

Jon-Tbm's unexpected size, and allowed them to

march over the causeway to retrieve their clothes-

Eyes turned among the rest of the victors as the

peculiar pair passed among them. High-pitched que-

ries followed their progress.

"Where'd you find these?"

"Down in one of the pools."

"What were they doing there, you suppose?"

"Spying, I wager."

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85

"A good place to spy from, if that was their

intention."

"Mighty big human, isn't it?"

"Doesn't look so tough to me."

This steady exchange between the four captors

and their colleagues continued until a cluster of

older prairie dogs clad in real armor approached.

The newcomers were led by one white-furred old-

ster who was taller than Mudge, His helmet was of

brass, with holes cut on top for ears and curved slats

to protect the bulging cheeks.

"I'm General Pocknet," he said in a curious but

no-nonsense tone. "You two don't belong hereabouts."

Jon-Tom wasn't about to argue with him. "We're

travelers, just passing through on our way south."

"South?" The general frowned. "There's nothing

to the south of the hills."

"The city-state of Quasequa," Jon-Tom told him

helpfully.

"Never heard of the place," replied Pocknet, shak-

ing his head. His jowls and whiskers quivered.

"Still, that's where we're headed." He nodded to-

ward the bloodstained causeway. "Looks like your

troops won."

"We won this day, yes."

"Glad to hear it."

"Don't try and ingratiate yourself with me, man.

We have settled our differences with the Wittens for

another month. Then we must Fight again to see

who retains possession of the springs."

Mudge was frowning as he tried to understand.

"Let me get this straight now, guv. You lot 'ave this

same little argument regular-like every month?"

"Naturally," said the officer behind Pocknet.

"You two honestly don't know what is happening

here, do you?" said Pocknet. Man and otter shook

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86

their heads in unison. Pocknet gestured across the

water.

"Over there is my home, the land of Fault." He

turned and pointed up the hill pimpled with the

bodies of the Wittens. "Beyond this rise lies the

territory of Witten, our hereditary enemy. We fight

the good fight on the first day of every month.".

"For fun?" asked Jon-Tom hesitandy.

"A typically human conceit. Of course not for fun.

We fight for control of this." He indicated the valley

of hot springs with a sweep of one hand.

"Wot do you want with a bunch o' boilin' water?"

Mudge wondered.

The general eyed him distastefully. "Civilized folk

know what to do with heat- It cooks our food, cleans

our clothing, pleases us in many ways. Whoever

controls the bridge controls the Mulmun, and who-

ever controls the Mulmun controls the springs."

"Uh, pardon our ignorance," said jon-Tom, "but

what's the Mulmun?"

The general was shaking his head. "It's true; you

two are ignorant, unsophisticated travelers, aren't

you?"

"That's us, your generalship." agreed Mudge readily.

"Just a couple of innocent dolts bumbling our way

southward."

"That remains to be determined. You've said where

you are going. Where do you come from?"

"From the north, from across the Tailaroam. The

forest known as the Bellwoods," Jon-Tom told him.

"That would explain your evident ignorance of

civilized matters," the general agreed. "But I suspect

this pretense of innocence is nothing more than a

clever ruse. Obviously you were spying for the Wittens."

A circle of spears closed in tight around Jon-Tom

and Mudge.

"Hey, let's 'old on a minim 'ere, guv'nor! We were

THE MOMENT OF THE BSAOICSAW

87

just 'aving ourselves a spot o' bath is all, wot? Didn't

know shit about this Wittens-mittens-Smault business,

we didn't!" One of the encircling soldiers touched

him with a spear, and Mudge turned to glare angrily

at him. "Poke me with that again, short whiskers,

and I'll put it where the sun don't shine."

A senior officer leaned forward to whisper in the

general's ear. "Your pardon, sir, but their stupidity

appears genuine to me. I honesdy believe they have

no idea what the Mulmun is."

"Hmmph. Well..." General Pocknet nibbled one

curling whisker and squinted at the two strangers.

"You are an odd pair, no denying it. Too odd even

for the Wittens to employ, perhaps."

"Oddest pair you ever set your bloomin* eyes on,

guv," Mudge assured him readily.

"I may have erred in calling you spies. Yes, you

happened to be bathing in the springs, purely out of

ignorance of reality, only to find yourselves caught in

the middle of a battle."

Jon-Tom let out a sigh of relief as the spears

withdrew slightly. "That, sir, is just about the size of

it."

The general waved the spears aside completely.

"Let them have their weapons." He moved to stand

close to Jon-Tom, staring up at the much taller

human. "Since you are not our enemies, I guess you

have to be our guests."

"General, sir, if it's all the same to you, we'd just as

soon... umph!" He grabbed himself and looked an-

grily at Mudge, who'd quickly elbowed him in the

ribs. Mudge beckoned him close, and Jon-Tom

restrained himself long enough to hear the otter out.

"Listen to me close, mate. I know these tunnel-

dwellers, I do. They can be real touchy about 'avin'

their 'ospitality turned down."

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88

"Oh. all right." He stood, still rubbing his side. "So

we're your guests. What does that entail?"

"A good meal and friendly chatter," the general

told him. "You can tell us of where you're from and

where you're going." He turned and barked orders,

His troops began to regroup and to fall back across

the causeway. The general and his senior staff flanked

the visitors, Pocknet striding along briskly with both

paws clasped behind his back. An armor-bearer walked

behind him, carrying the general's helmet and sword.

"Tell me now, how comes an otter and a man to be

traveling together in our country?"

"Let's save that for dessert," Jon-Tom told him. "If

you don't mind, I have a couple of questions of my

own." Mudge was making shushing sounds in his

direction. Jon-Tom ignored him.

"Can't you share the hot springs with the Wittens?"

The general smiled up at him. "You are a dumb

stranger, so I will excuse the affront. You see," he

said, as if explaining to a child, "there is but the one

Mulmun, the symbol of the springs. That is what we

fight for control of. Whoever possesses the Mulmun

has the right to control the springs."

"But isn't there enough here for both communities?

Can't you share?"

"Why share," replied the general, favoring him

with an odd look, "when one can have it all?"

"Because it makes more sense than slaughtering

your neighbors."

"But we like slaughtering our neighbors, and our

neighbors feel exactly the same way about us," said

the general easily.

"How do you know sharing wouldn't be better?

Have you ever tried sharing?"

"Absurd notion. We could never trust the Wittens.

Wouldn't dare to try. The minute our backs were

turned, they'd cut our throats and take control of

THE MOMBHT OF THE MAOJCIAW