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

rumbled. "Show the world what true collective action

can do!"

Whether it was Jon-Tom's music or the dragon's

rhetoric or a combination of both, the geolks started

to line up on the far wall, twisting and curling

against one another.

"Get back, everybody," Mudge warned the onlookers.

"And don't be surprised no matter wot 'appens. Be

ready" He grinned at his friend the spellsinger. "Bugger

me for a blue-eyed bandicoot if I don't think we're

gettin' out o* 'ere!"

Still the geolks continued to gather, until the oppo-

site wall of the well chamber was alive with blinding

light- Jon-Tom had to close his eyes to shut out the

intense glow.

Falameezar roared something about the worker's

imperative at the same time that Jon-Tom and his

duar thundered out the opening words of Quiet

Riot's "Cum On Feel the Noize." The earth trembled

as the huge rope of geolks convulsed. The concus-

sion knocked Jon-Tom off his feet, and even Falameezar

was tossed sideways.

His head rattling, he tried to keep playing, tried to

do it as fluidly as Jimi or Robin Trower or Eddie van

Halen would have. Finally he had to stop because the

dust in his nostrils was choking him.

He opened his eyes to a different kind of light,

The geolks were gone, and so was much of the far

wall. Light washed over the bottom of the well be-

cause the right side of the roof had collapsed. In

place of wall and roof was a pile of rubble that

reached all the way to the main floor above.

Falameezar shoved his way clear of the talus. "Free!

Free from the imperialist neo-colonialist yoke!" He

started pawing up the steep slope. "Where is he, lead

me to him!"

THE MOMENT OF TUB MAGICIAN 291

"Easy, easy, comrade!" Jon-Tom struggled to catch

up to the angry dragon- "If he sees you, he'll only

put you to sleep again."

"No, he will not," said Falameezar decisively. "The

people are awake to reality now, and not4ing can put

them to sleep again." Flame and smoke billowed

from his jaws. ^'I'll reduce the fascist dictator to a

cinder." He started climbing again.

"Don't underestimate him!" Jon-Tom shouted

up at the dragon, but to no avail. Falameezar

wasn't dumb, but he was more than a litde impulsive,

especially when the revolutionary fever was on

him.

Shouts sounded from the floor above, and they

found themselves looking up at Markus's guards.

Their expressions were more than a little fearful as

they stared down into the gaping hole that had

materialized practically under their feet. If that

wasn't enough to send them running, the sight of

Falameezar climbing rapidly toward them finished

the job. The floor cleared with gratifying swift-

ness.

"He'll keep the sohders busy," Jon-Tom muttered,

"but I'll have to handle Markus. Somehow."

"You can do it. mate. You're the only one who

can," Mudge said.

Jon-Tom looked grim. "Maybe I can convince the

geolks to concentrate in his spine. Hell, we'll get him!

I just managed a Marxist earthquake, didn't I?" He

looked past the otter, waved to the others. "All right,

let's go!"

Yelling and barking enthusiastically, the otters

followed him up the slope. Opiode and the Quorum

members trailed at a discreet distance. They were

administrators, not fighters.

Falameezar was searching the intact part of the big

room, hunting for fascists. Occasionally a guard or

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292

two would peer through a doorway, Only to be sent

fleeing by a ferocious blast of flame. Falameezer

launched into a spirited rendition of the "Internation-

ale." He was out of tune and had the words aU wrong,

but Jon-Tom wasn't about to correct him. The scaly

Marxist was having too good a time incinerating

capitalist dupes.

"We've got to Find Markus as fast as possible,

before he can get his wits together. Fatameezar will

keep his guards occupied." He looked at Trendavi,

the deposed premier. "Can you show us the way to

his tower?"

The aged pangolin nodded. "Without fail, my

friends." He led them through a still-standing door.

Occasionally they encountered some of Markus's

guards, but while the otters were usually outanned

and outweighed, they were never intimidated. Guards

broke and ran without Fighting. No doubt word of

the escape was already racing through the Quorumate,

and no solider wanted to risk the chance of encounter-

ing a bunch of hyperkinetic fanatics who might be

backed up by a Fire-breathing, if somewhat verbose,

dragon.

"This way," Trendavi told them, turning to his left.

Then they were outside, on the parapet Jon-Tom

had been marched across not so long ago, racing

toward Markus's sanctuary.

"He has outsmarted himself," Opiode commented

as they slowed. The members of the Quorum were

near collapse from the run, but not. the salamander.

His eyes glittered. "None can approach from three

sides, but by the same token there is only this way

out."

"I'm going in," Jon-Tom told them. "The rest of

you stay behind me"

"I was about to suggest that meself," said Mudge.

They rushed forward. There was no sign of the

TUB MOMEWT Of THE MAGJCIAJf 293

two armed lions who had flanked the entrance when

Jon-Tom had been brought here before.

Actually, now that the final confrontation was at

hand, Jon-Tom wasn't quite sure how to proceed. He

didn't tell his companions that.

Attack. Always keep the opposition off balance.

That was how he'd been taught and that was what he

intended to do- The advice had come, not from a

class on warfare, but on courtroom procedure. Jon-

Tom didn't see why it wouldn't apply as well on the

battleField as in the courtroom.

Each inner door opened at their touch, until they

confronted a door-sized slab that did not. Instead of

moving aside, it leaned forward and growled. Black

leather armor gleamed in the torchlight. Prugg ges-

tured threateningly with his enormous club.

"You stop," the bodyguard growled menacingly.

Frangel tried to dart past the bear. The club

descended with frightening speed and dented the

rock where the otter had been a split-second earlier.

Only Frangel's exceptional quickness saved him. Any-

one slower than an otter would have been smashed

to pulp.

That was the signal for the rest of the band to

charge- Dodging Prugg's lethal swings, they darted

all around him, poking and prodding with their

spears and swords while yelling encouragement to

each other-

"Get 'im!... take 'is bloomin* 'ead off!... kill 'imi... get

the ugly bastard down!"

"Knock 'im over, tear 'is throat out!" a solitary

voice yelled from behind Jon-Tom. The spellsinger

turned, tapped Mudge on the shoulder.

•/ "Kill? Tear his throat out?" he said dangerous-

ly-

Mudge put his paws behind his back and tried to

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294

smile. "1 was just sort o' coverin' our rear, mate.

Don't want to be taken from behind, we don't"

"Guarding our rear, my ass!"

*'0i, that's wot 1 said, weren't it?"

There were times when Jon-Tom could tolerate his

friend's shameless displays ot cowardice. This wasn't

one of them. Not with petite warriors like Sasswise

and Splitch fighting to make a path for him.

Actually, he went a little crazy.

"You rotten, smelly, no-good...!" Reaching down,