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

long black mane while she chatted with the boatman.

Bribbens gestured at the squat shape of Clothahump, who

rested against the railing nearby. "He suggested back at my

cove that it'd be a good idea not to say anything to you."

Jon-Tom and Flor looked questioningly at Clothahump.

"That is so, youngsters." He pointed toward the flowing

silver roof. "From there to here's something of a fall. I

wasn't positive of the distance or of what your mental

reactions to such a peculiar dive might be. I thought it best

not to go into detail. I did not wish to frighten you."

"We wouldn't have been frightened," said Flor firmly.

"That may be so," agreed the wizard, "but there was no

need to take the chance. As you can see we are all here safe

and sound and once more on our way."

A muttered obscenity fell from the form on the right

spreader.

They were interrupted by a loud multiple splashing to

starboard. As they watched, several fish the size of large bass

leaped skyward. Their fins and tails were unusually broad and

powerful.

Two of the leapers fell back, but the third intersected the

flowing sky, got his upper fins into the water, and wiggled its

way out of sight overhead. Several minutes passed, and then

it rained minnows. A huge school of tiny fish came shooting

out of the upper river to disappear in the lower. The two

unsuccessful leapers were waiting for them. They were soon

joined by the descending shape of the stronger jumper.

Jon-Tom had grown dizzy watching the up-and-down pur-

suit. His brain was more confused than his eyes. The new

optical information did not match up with stored information.

"The origin of the name's obvious," he said to the

boatman, "but I still don't understand how it came to be."

Bribbens proceeded to relate the story of the Sloomaz-ayor-

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THE HOUR Or THE GATE

le-WeentIi, of the great witch Wutz and her spilled cauldron

of magic and the effect this had had upon the river forevermore.

When he'd finished the tale Plor shook her head in disbe-

lief. "'Grande, fantastico. A schizoid stream."

"What makes the world go 'round, after all, Flor?" said

Jon-Tom merrily.

"Gravitation and other natural laws."

"I thought it was love."

"As a matter of fact," said Clothahump, inserting himself

into the conversation, "the gravitational properties of love are

well known. I suppose you believe its attractive properties

wholly psychological? Well let me tell you, my boy, that

there are certain formulae which..." and he rambled off into

a learned discussion, half balderdash and half science: which

is to say, fine magic. Jon-Tom and Flor tried to follow, largely

in vain.

Talea leaned on the bow railing, her gaze fixed on the

blackness ahead and around them. The cool wind continued,

ruffling her hair and making her wonder what lay ahead,

concealed by the screen of night.

For days they drifted downstream in darkness; water above,

water below, floating through an aqueous tube toward an

uncertain destination. Jon-Tom was reminded of a corpuscle

in the bloodstream. After all the talk of Zaryt's "Teeth" and

of traveling into the "belly" bf the mountain, he found the

analogy disquieting.

From time to time they would anchor in midstream and

supplement their supplies from the river's ample piscean

population. Occasionally Bribbens and Mudge would make

exploratory forays into the upper river. They would climb the

mast, Mudge helping the less adapted boatman. A small float

attached to an arrow was shot into the underside of the current

overhead. The float was inflated until it held securely. Then

the cord trailing from it would be tied to the mast. Bribbens

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Alan Dean Foster

and the otter would then shinny up it, to disappear into the

liquid ceiling.

With them went small sealed oil lamps fitted with handles.

These provided light in the darkness, a necessity since even

such agile swimmers as the two explorers could become lost

in the deep waters.

On the twelfth day, when the monotony of the trip had

become dangerously settled, Bribbens slid down the line in a

state of uncharacteristic excitement.

"I think we're through," he announced cheerily.

"Through? Through where? Surely not the mountains."

Clothahump frowned. "It could not be. The range is too

massive to be so narrow. And the legends..."

"No, no, sir. Not through the mountains. But the airspace

above the upper river has suddenly expanded from but a few

inches to one many feet high. There is a substantial cave, far

more interesting to look at than this homogeneous tunnel. We

can travel above now, and there's some light as well."

"What kind of light?" Flor wanted to know.

"You'll see."

Preparations were made. Buoyant material did not have to

be dragged or shoved downward this time. Instead, they

simply had to raise it to the upper stream and insert it,

whereupon it would instantly bob to the second surface.

Mudge was waiting to slip a line on such packages and drag

them to shore.

When all their stores had been transferred, the nonaquatics

climbed the mast rope and pushed themselves into the upper

river. It was far easier to ascend than that first uncertain dive

had been.

Jon-Tom broke the surface with wind to spare. He remained

there a while, treading water as he inspected the cavern into

which the river emerged.

The boatman had understated its size in his usual phlegmat-

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THE HOUR Or THE GATE

ic fashion. The cave was enormous. Off to his left Jon-Tom

could see the abrupt cessation of the solid stone wall that had

formed a tight lid on the upper stream for so many days.

Little debris drifted this far on the river, and what few pieces

and bits of wood tumbled by were worn almost smooth from

the continual buffeting against that unyielding overhang.

More amazing were the cavern walls. They appeared to be

coated with millions of tiny lights. He swam lazily toward the

nearby beach, crawled out and selected a towel with which to

dry himself, and moved to inspect the nearest glowing rocks.

The lights were predominantly gold in hue, though a few

odd bursts and patches of red, blue, green, and yellow were

visible. The bioluminescents were lichens and fungi of many

species, ranging from mere colored smears against the rock to

elaborate mushrooms and step fungi. Individually their lumen

output was insignificant, but in the millions they illuminated

the cavern as thoroughly as an evening sun.

He was kneeling to examine a cluster of bright blue

toadstools when a vast rush and burble sounded behind him.

He turned, instinctively expecting to see some unmentionable

river monster rising from the depths. It was only their boat.

The first days on board he'd wondered at the purpose of

great collapsed intestines, carefully scraped and dried, that

lined the little craft's hold. Now he knew. Having been

inflated in turn they'd given the boat sufficient lifting power

to rise like a balloon from the lower river right up to the

surface of its twin.

Now it bobbed uncertainly as Bribbens rushed to open the

valves sealing each inflated stomach before they could lift the

ship from its second surface to the ceiling of the cavern.

Water ran off the decks and out the seacocks. Mudge pumped

furiously to purge the remaining water from the hold.