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

travelers of the mind as well as the land, for have they not

this very instant convinced us to join with them?"

"we are but independent," Oil replied, "the people of the

iron cloud are paranoid."

"rumor and innuendo spread by unsuccessful traders who

have returned from their land empty-clawed, it is true they are

less than social, but that does not mean they will not listen."

He turned to face Jon-Tom.

"they are much like some of you, friend, like yourself, and

those two there," he pointed to Mudge and Caz, "and that

one above," and he pointed now at Pog.

"They sound most interesting," said Clothahump. "I con-

fess I know nothing of them."

"Are they good fighters?" Flor wondered. "Maybe we can

get more out of them than directions."

"they are great warriors," admitted Ogalugh readily, "but

you speak so facilely of making allies of them. you do not

understand, they are interested in nothing save themselves,

- will support no causes but their own."

"That's just what we were told to expect of the Weavers,"

Jon-Tom said with becoming boldness.

"but we are sensible enough to see advantage and necessi-

ty where they occur," Oil argued back. "the people of the

iron cloud, i am told, are unaffected by events elsewhere.

they are protected by their indifference and their isolation."

"Nothing is safe from the evil the Plated Folk build," said

Clothahump somberly.

"i am already convinced, wizard," she said. "convince

the ironclouders: not me. it will be enough if they can show

our fighters the way through the southern peaks."

"I have some small diplomatic skill," said Clothahump

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immodestly. "I believe we can persuade them to do that, at

least."

"perhaps, you must, or we can be of no help to you and

your peoples, no matter what the plated ones decide to do. we

will march when ready, but if we cannot find a way, we will

be forced to turn back.

"i will send from among the weavers a personal representa-

tive. perhaps the proof that we have joined with you will help

to convince the people of the iron cloud, in any case,

someone will be necessary to come back to report on the

results of your mission, be it successful or not."

"Not to preempt your prerogatives. Oil," said Caz careful-

ly. "but if we might be permitted to choose the repre-

sentative ... ?"

"Sure," said Jon-Tom quickly, turning to face the

Webmistress. "Would it be okay if a river guard named

Ananthos served as your representative?"

"ananthos... i do not know the name. a common river

guard, you say?"

"Yes. He's the one who brought us here."

"a common river guard of uncommon discernment, then.

but still, it should be someone of higher rank."

"Please, Oil," Jon-Tom said, "rank will mean nothing to

these Ironclouders if what you say of their nature is correct.

And Ananthos is familiar with us. We know we can get along

with one another."

"a sound recommendation, i suppose." She sighed and

that whole globular black mass quivered, "it is the common

soldiers who will decide this battle to come, as they do all

such battles, perhaps it is fitting that one of their rank be our

ambassador, as you say, it will likely not matter to the

ironclouders.

"very well. you may have this ananthos. he will go with

you as would one of my own children, uzmentap!"

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THE HOUR Of THE GATE

"yes my lady, yes my lady?" A tiny adult spider scurried

into the chamber, the same one who had admitted them a

little while earlier.

"put out the word to all the ends of the scuttleteau, to the

uppermost flanks of the mountains and the bottoms of the

rivers, to all the believers in the weave and to all who would

defend their webs against the plated folk, that a temporary

alliance has been struck with the people of the warmlands to

help them drive the plated beasts back into their putrid hole of

a homeland once and for all!"

"it shall be done, my lady," said the herald quickly. She

dismissed him with a wave of one leg and he hurried away to

do the bidding.

"we will move as soon as we have word from your

messenger ananthos," she told them. "we will go hopefully

with a known route and will try our best if none such is

available, but i will not send the best of the weave over the

high snows to a cold death."

"We know that," said Clothahump gratefully. "You can't

be expected to sacrifice yourselves to no purpose. But don't

worry. We'll convince these people to show us a way."

Jon-Tom did not think it a judicial time to mention the

possibility that such a path might not exist.

"it is in your claws now. i will have this ananthos found

and will give him my personal instructions and the scarf of

ambassadorial rank. will you require an escort?"

"We've gotten this far on our own," Talea pointed out.

"From what you say these Ironclouders aren't hostile, just

stubborn." She patted the sword at her hip. "We can take

care of ourselves."

"i did not mean to imply otherwise, i will see that you are

well supplied with food and—" She broke off at the twisted

expression on Flor's face, one that was sufficiently intense

and abrupt to transcend interspecies differences, "perhaps

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Alan Dean Foster

you had best see to your own provisioning, at that. list what

you wish and i will see it is provided, i had forgotten for a

moment that you partake of nourishment in a fashion some-

what different from ours."

"Our marital habits are a little different, too." Jon-Tom

glanced significantly toward the bejeweled boudoir.

"so i have heard, honor is a strange thing, sometimes it is

better to die happy and honored than to live miserably and

unrespected. and you do not consider the effects such repeat-

ed matings have on my own mind. a burdensome thing, i am

not permitted a lifetime of happiness but instead short periods

followed by regretful melancholy, tradition must be upheld,

however." She waved a leg magnanimously.

"all that is required will be provided, i only hope that we

have sufficient time to prepare and that we are granted a path

by which to proceed."

"We are most grateful," said Clothahump, bowing slightly.

"You are a Grand Webmistress indeed."

"it is no compliment to say that one can see the truth."

She waved several legs. "good fortune to you, newfound

friends."

The visitors began to file out of the chamber. Jon-Tom go

halfway to the portal, then turned and walked back to her.

"the audience is at an end," Oil told him somewhat less

than politely.

"I'm sorry. But I have to know something. Then I'll leav<

you to your privacy."

Fathomless eyes regarded him quietly, "ask then."

"Why did you single me out to talk with, instead o

Clothahump or Caz or one of the others?"

"why? oh, because of your delightful and inspiring selec

tion of garb. it marks you clearly as a superior being to your

companions, wizardly talents notwithstanding."

Turning, she walked rhythmically back to stand below the

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THE HOUR OF THE GATE

royal bower. Reattaching fresh silk to the dangling cable, she

promptly climbed up and disappeared behind the barrier of

gems and silken embroidery.

Jon-Tom was left to consider his bright black leathern

pants, the matching boots and dark shirt.

It was only much later, as they were departing Gossameringue