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

"Mudge." He moved quietly toward the otter's bed.

"Let's go, move it. We're getting out of here. We're

going to help these people whether they like it or

not. Mudge?"

He put out a hand, feeling for the otter's shoulder

in the dim light provided by the torch. It went all the

way down to the mattress. The covers came away

with a yank.

"Well, shit," he muttered, swinging the torch to

inspect the rest of the room. No sign of the otter

sprawled unconscious on the floor. Nor was he asleep

in the bathroom, or in the hall corridor outside.

No one bothered him as he stood thinking furiously

in the passageway. Could the reluctant water rat have

run out on him this early in their journey? Knowing

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Mudge, that kind of desertion couldn't be ruled out.

Or was he off somewhere within the subterranean

town, carousing with newfound buddies or gambling

his shorts away?

Tough. He should've stayed with his companion.

Anyway, the otter was a superb tracker. Jon-Tpm was

willing to bet he could find a vanished friend with

ease. Let him stay behind if he wanted to and do his

own explaining. What Jon-Tom had in mind was

bigger than either of them, something that should

have been done in this part of the world a long time

ago. Fortunate chance had given him the opportuni-

ty to correct a monstrously maintained wrong.

In the darkness he struggled to retrace his steps.

Down a hall, and sure enough, there off to the left

was the dimly lit and now-deserted officers' mess.

The dishes had been cleared from the long tables.

Lingering embers still glowed and popped in the

three fireplaces, sending smoke up to the surface

world above. Not a soul in sight.

He tiptoed across the floor between two of the

tables until he stood before the central fireplace.

None of the locals could reach the mantel, but it was

an easy stretch for him. The Mulmun was heavier

than it looked.

Back quickly out to the hall, and then he was

running at a steady pace up an ever-ascending slope,

the Mulmun tied to his belt and concealed by his

flapping green cape.

There were sentries on night duty, a pair of wide-

eyed and fully awake gophers. They recognized the

guest.

"Evemn', sor," said one courteously. "You're bein'

up kind o' late for a day-dweller."

Jon-Tom tried to bend to his right to hide the

bulge at his waist. "Can't sleep."

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**A sensible attitude," commented the other guard

approvingly.

"Thought I'd go for a walk." How convenient, he

thought, that the voluminous cape also hid his

backpack. Its presence wouldn't square with a brief

evening stroll.

The guards weren't in the least suspicious, however.

Jen-Tom backed around them, smiling brightly. "Just

a quick little look around. Got to be back early to

wake my friend."

The sentries exchanged a glance. "That's funny,

sor. Your companion went off toward the springs

"bout an hour or so ago."

"What? My friend? Are you sure?"

"No otters livin' in Faulty" said the first sentry.

"Had to have been him, right?"

**I guess so. Yes, it must've been him. That's certain-

ly interesting. The sly little cuss neglected to mention

it to me. I will have to remonstrate with him, yes

indeedy. 1 know. I'll bet he went for a moonlit swim.

Sure, that's it."

"He didn't say anything to you?" Suddenly the

second sentry seemed more than casually curious.

"That is odd."

"Oh, no, no, not really," Jon-Tom assured him as

he continued backing toward the exit, now tantalizingly

near. "He does things like this all the time."

"Funny time o' night for a day-dweller to be takin*

a bath," the guard went on.

*'You know these water rats." Jon-Tom's smile was

frozen in place- "So damned unpredictable." He turned

2nd Jogged out onto the surface, leaving the puzzled

Sentries conversing noisily behind him-

Once out of sight he increased his pace to a run.

Puzzled guards could be dangerous guards, especial-

ly if their curiosity matched their confusion.

More important, what the hell was the otter doing

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at the springs in the middle of the night, and why

didn't he see fit to tell his traveling companion about

his plans for a nocturnal excursion? It didn't make

any sense, which meant it was perfectly in character

for Mudge. He paused only briefly to catch his

breath and rede the awkward burden of the Mulmun.

It was certainly a lovely night for a swim. The

moon was high, and pale silver light bathed the

boulders and rising mist. Of the otter there was no

sign, and the only sounds came from the bubbling,

hissing springs.

Or was there something else? It rose and fell, but

it didn't sound like water bubbling or steam venting.

It issued from behind a cluster of granite spires.

Jon-Tom approached them cautiously- The sounds

were familiar and yet alien. Invading Wittens, perhaps,

scouting out the terrain in preparation for next

month's carnage.

He peered over the top of the rocks. It was Mudge,

all right. Only, he wasn't alone. Jon-Tom thought he

recognized the prairie dog lady who'd been serving

them during the ceremonial meal. Coquettish little

sprite. She was being anything but coquettish at the

moment, however. Mudge was moaning softly and

she was emitting a rapid sequence of high-pitched

squeaks and bleats. Some were undoubtedly too high-

pitched for Jon-Tom's human hearing, but he got

the idea fast enough. They weren't talking about the

weather. Matter of fact, they weren't talking at all.

"Mudge!" he whispered.

"Wot the bloody 'ell is that?" The otter withdrew,

only to lose his footing on the round scones and

stumble head over heels. His paramour scrambled in

the direction of her clothing.

The otter's sharp eyes quickly found Jon-Tom

staring down at him from atop the ring of boulders.

He let out a tremulous sigh.

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97

"Bless me bottom, mate, 'tis only you. Wot are you

tryin' to do. give me 'eart failure?"

"No" Jon-Tom wondered why he was still whispering.

The little lady cowered off in a corner. "Get dressed.

We're getting out of here."

Mudge shifted rapidly from relieved to startled.

**Wot, now?" He began gathering up his clothes and

weapons. "Ain't you got no sensitivity at all, mate?"

"I'm sorry, 1 didn't know. If you'd bothered to tell

me your plans for the evening..."

'.,/ **... You'd've tried to talk me out of 'cm, guv'nor. I

know you. Wot's the bleedin' 'urry, is wot I wants to

linow?"

: "Mudge, I saw these people fight today, brother

against brother, more or less. I listened to their talk

Cgnd learned their sordid local history. What we've

^fyot here are a bunch of people so immersed in an

.ingoing bad habit they haven't the foggiest notion of

:\how to cure themselves of it."

; "Your pardon, mate," said the otter as he slipped

,;into his shorts, "but wot we 'ave 'ere is a bunch of

^people who are perfectly 'appy with their lives just as

they are."

"That's because they can't break out of this cycle

they've slipped into. Mudge, there's plenty of hot

water in these springs, more than enough to supply

all the needs of both towns. It's not like they're

Fighting over a limited resource."