Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 02 - The Hour of the Gate

boatman's order.

"And then."

"And then we pole her out into the middle of the current,

open her stoppers, and sink her. After we've anchored her

securely, of course."

Jon-Tom started to say something, thought better of it.

Since the frog's statement was absurd and since he was

clearly not an idiot, then it must follow that he knew some-

thing Jon-Tom did not. When confronted by an inexplicable

claim, he'd been taught, it was better not to debate until the

supporting evidence was in.

"I still don't understand," said Flor confusedly.

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"You will," Bribbens assured her. "By the way, can you

both swim?"

"Fairly well," said Jon-Tom.

"I don't drown," was Hor's appraisal.

"Good. I hope the other human is likewise trained.

"For the moment you can't do anything except help with

the unloading. Then I suggest you relax and watch."

When the last buoyant object had been removed from the

boat, they took the frog at his word and settled down on the

beach to observe.

Bribbens guided the little vessel out into the river. On

locating a place that suited him (but that looked no different

from anywhere else to Jon-Tom and Hor) he tossed over bow

and stem anchors. Sunlight glistened off the boatman's now

bare green and black back and off the smooth fur of the nude

otter standing next to him.

Both watched as the anchors descended. The boat slowly

swung around before halting about a dozen yards farther

downstream. Bribbens tested the lines to make certain both

anchors were fast on the bottom.

Then he Vanished belowdecks for several minutes. Soon

me boat began to sink. Shortly only the mast was visible

above the surface. Then it too had sunk out of sight. Mudge

swam above the spot where it had gone under, occasionally

dipping his head beneath me surface. The amphibian Bribbens

was as at home in the river's depths as he was on land.

Mudge was almost as comfortable, being a faster swimmer

but unable to extract oxygen from the water.

Soon the otter waved to those remaining on shore. He

shouted something unintelligible. They saw his back arch as

he dived. He repeated the dive-appear-dive-appear sequence

several times. Then Bribbens broke the surface alongside him

and they both swam in to the beach.

They silently took turns convoying the floatable supplies

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THE HOUR OF THE GATE

(carefully packed in watertight skins) out to the center of the

stream, disappearing with them, and then returning for more.

Finally Bribbens stood dripping on the beach. "Good thing

the river doesn't come out of the mountain. Be too cold for

this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" a thoroughly bemused Flor wanted

to know.

"Let's go and you'll find out."

"Go? Go where?"

"Why, to the ship, of course," said Talea. "You don't

know, do you?"

"No one explains things to me. They just look." She was

almost angry.

"It will all be explained in a minute," said Clothahump

patiently.

The boatman held out a watertight sack. "If you'll put

your clothes in here."

"What for?" Flor's gaze narrowed.

Bribbens explained patiently, "So they won't get wet." He

started to turn away. "It's no difference to me. If you want to

spend the journey inside the probably cold mountain in wet

clothing, that's your business. I'm not going to argue with

you."

Jon-Tom was already removing his cape and shirt. Talea

and Caz were doing likewise. Flor gave a little shrug and

began to disrobe while the wizard made sure his plastron

compartments were sealed tight. Physically he was the weakest

of them, but like the boatman, he would have no difficulty

going wherever they were going.

There was one problem, though. It took the form of a black

lump hanging from a large piece of driftwood.

"Absolutely not! Not on your life, and sure as hell not on

mine." Pog folded his wings adamantly around his body and

looked immovable. "I'll wait for ya here."

"We may not return this way," explained Clothahump.

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Alan Dean Foster

"You may not return at all, but dat ain't da point dat's

botherin' me," grumbled the bat.

"Come now." Clothahump had elected to try reason on his

famulus. "I could make you come, you know."

"You can make me do a lot of tings, boss," replied the

bat, "but not you nor anyting else in dis world's going to

drag me into dat river!"

"Come on, Pog." Jon-Tom felt silly standing naked on the

beach arguing with the reluctant bat. "Ror, Talea, Caz, and I

aren't water breathers either. But I trust Clothahump and our

boatman to know what they're about. Surely we're going to

reach air soon. I can't hold my breath any longer man you."

"Water's fit for drinking, not for living in," Pog continued

to insist. "You ain't getting me into dat liquid grave and dat'p

final."

Jon-Tom's expression turned sorrowful. "If that's the wa;»

you feel about it." He'd seen Talea and Mudge sneaking

around to get behind the driftwood. "You might as well wai

here for us, I suppose."

"I beg your pardon?" said the wizard.

Jon-Tom put a hand on the turtle's shell, turned him toward

the river. "It's no use arguing with him, sir. His mind i-;

made up and—"

"Hey? Let me loose! Damn you, Mudge, get off m>

wings! I'll tear your guts out! I'll, I'll...! Let me up!"

"Get his wings down!... Watch those teeth!" Hor and

Jon-Tom rushed to help. The four of them soon had the bat

neatly pinned. Talea located some strong, thin vines and

began wrapping the famulus like a holiday package.

"Sorry to do this, old fellow," said Caz apologetically,

"but we're wasting time. Jon-Tom's right though, you know

I'm probably the worst swimmer of this lot, but I'm willing

to give it a go if Clothahump insists there's no danger."

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THE HOUR OF THE GATE

"Of course not," said the wizard. "Well, very little, in

any case. Bribbens knows precisely how far we must descend."

The boatman stood listening. He eyed the bat distastefully.

"Right. Bring him along, then."

They carried the bound and trussed famulus toward the

water's edge.

"Let me go!" Pog's fear of the river was genuine. "I can't

do it, I tell ya! I'll drown. I'm warning ya all I'll come back

and haunt ya the rest of your damn days!"

"That's your privilege." Talea led the way into the river.

"You'll drown all right," Bribbens told him, "if you don't

do exactly as I say."

"Where are we going, then?" Jon-Tom asked, a little

dazedly.

The frog pointed out and down. "Just swim, man. When

we get to the spot I'll say so. Then you dive ... and swim."

"Straight down?" Jon-Tom kicked, the water smooth and

fresh around him. A little shiver of fear raced down his back.

Clothahump and Bribbens and to a lesser extent Mudge need

have no fear of the water. It was one of their environments.

But what if they were wrong? What if the underwater cave (or

whatever it was they were going down into) lay too deep?

A friendly pat on one shoulder reassured him. " 'Ere now,

why the sunken face, mate? There ain't a bloomin' thing t'

worry about." Mudge smiled around his wet whiskers. " 'Tain't

far down atall, not even for a splay-toed 'uman."

Bribbens halted, bobbing in the warm current. "Ready then?

Just straight down. I've allowed for the carry of the current,

so no need to worry about that."