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

finally smashed his unquenchable spirit. "It don't make no

bloomin' sense, dam it! I've known that bird off an' on for

years. For 'er t' do somethin' like this t' save 'er own skin, t'

go over t' the likes o' these.. .1 can't believe it, mate. I

can't!"

230

TBE HOUR Or TSK GATE

Jon-Tom tried to erase the memory. That would be easier

than forgetting the pain. It wasn't his head that was hurting.

"I can't believe it either, Mudge."

"Why not, friend?" Bribbens crossed one slick green leg

over the other. "Allegiance is a temporary thing, and expedi-

ency the hallmark of survival."

"Probably what happened," said Caz more gently, "was

that she saw what was going to happen, that we were going to

be overwhelmed, and decided to cast her lot with the Plated

Folk. We know from firsthand experience, do we not, that

there are human allies among them. I can't condemn her for

choosing life over death. You shouldn't either."

Jon-Tom sat quietly, still not believing it despite the Sense

in Caz's words. Talea had been combative, even contemptu-

ous at times, but for her to turn on companions she'd been

through so much with... Yet she'd apparently done just that.

Better face up to facts, Jon boy. "Poor boy, you're goin' t'

die," as the Song lamented.

"What do you suppose they'll do with us?" he asked

Mudge. "Or maybe I'd be better just asking 'how'?"

"I over'eard the soldiers talkin'. I was 'alf conscious when

they carried us down 'ere." Mudge smiled slightly. "Seems

we're t' be the bloody centerpiece at the Empress' evenin'

supper, the old dear. 'Eard the ranks wagerin' on 'ow we was

goin' t' be cooked."

"I sincerely hope they do cook us," Caz said. "I've heard

tales that the Plated Folk prefer their food alive.' \ Flor

shuddered, and Jon-Tom felt sick.

It had all been such a grand adventure, marching off to

save civilization, overcoming horrendous obstacles and terri-

ble difficulties. All to end up not as part of an enduring

legend but a brief meal. He missed the steady confidence of

Clothahump. Even if unable to save them through wizardly

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means, he wished the turtle were present to raise their spirits

with his calm, knowledgeable words.

"Any idea what time it's to be?" The windowless walls

shut out time as well as space.

"No idea." Caz grinned ruefully at him. "You're the

spellsinger. You tell me."

"I've already explained that I can't do anything without the

duar."

"Then you ought to have it, Jon-Tom." The voice came

from the corridor outside the cell. Everyone faced the bars.

Talea stood there, panting heavily. Flor made an inarticu-

late sound and rushed the barrier. Talea stepped back out of

reach.

"Calm yourself, woman. You're acting like a hysterical

cub."

Flor smiled, showing white teeth. "Come a little closer,

sweet friend, and I'll show you how hysterical I can be."

Talea shook her head, looked disgusted. "Save your strength,

and what brains you've got left. We haven't got much time."

She held up a twisted length of wrought iron: the key.

Caz had left his sitting position to move up behind Hor. He

put furry arms around her and wrestled her away from the

bars.

"Use your head, giantess! Can't you see she's come to let

us out?"

"But I thought..." Hor finally took notice of the key and

relaxed.

"You knocked me out." Jon-Tom gripped the bars with

both hands as Talea rumbled with the key and the awkward

lock. "You hit me with a metal bottle."

"I sure did," she snapped. "Somebody had to keep her

wits about her."

"Then you haven't gone over to the Plated Folk?"

232

THE HOUR OF Tsa GATE

"Of course I did. You're not thinking it through. I forgive

you, though."

She was whispering angrily at them, glancing from time to

time back up the corridor. "We know that some humans have

joined them, right? But how could the locals know which

humans in the warmlands are their allies and which are not?

They can't possibly, not without checking with their spies in

Polastrindu and elsewhere.

"When the fighting began I saw we didn't have a chance.

So I grabbed a hunk of iron and started attacking you

alongside the guards. When it was finished they accepted my

story about being sent along to spy on you and keep track of

the expedition. That Eejakrat was suspicious, but he was

willing to accept me for now, until he can check with those

wannland sources. He figured I couldn't do any harm here."

She grinned wickedly.

"His own thoughts are elsewhere. He's too concerned

with how much Clothahump knows to worry about me." She

nodded up the corridor. "This guard's dead, but I don't know

how often they change 'em."

There was a groan and a metallic snap. She pushed and the

door swung inward. "Come on, then."

They rushed out into the corridor. It was narrow and only

slightly better lit than the cell. Several strides further brought

them up before a familiar silhouette.

"Clothahump!" shouted Jon-Tom.

"Master, Master!" Pog fluttered excitedly around the wiz-

ard's head. Clothahump waved irritably at the famulus. His

own attention was fixed on the hall behind him.

"Not now, Pog. We've no time for it."

"Where've they been holding you, sir?" Jon-Tom asked.

Clothahump pointed. "Two cells up from you."

Jon-Tom gaped at him. "You mean you were that close and

, we could've..."

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"Could have what, my boy? Dug through the rocks with

your bare hands and untied and ungagged me? I think not. It

was frustrating, however, to hear you all so close and not be

able to reassure you." His expression darkened. "I am going

to turn that Eejakrat into mousefood!"

"Not today," Talea reminded him.

"Yes, you're quite right, young lady."

Talea led them to a nearby room. In addition to the

expected oil lamps the walls held spears and shields. The

furnishings were Spartan and minimal. A broken insect body

lay sprawled beneath the table. Neatly piled against the far

wall were their possessions: weapons, supplies, and disguises,

including Jon-Tom's duar.

They hurriedly helped one another into the insect suits.

"I'm surprised these weren't shattered beyond repair in the

fight," Jen-Tom muttered, watching while Clothahump fixed

his cracked headpiece.

The wizard finished the polymer spell-repair. "Eejakrat

was fascinated by them. I'm sure he wanted me to go into the

details of the spell. He has similar interests, you know.

Remember the disguised ambassador who talked with you in

Polastrindu."

They stepped quietly back out into the corridor. "Where

are we?" Mudge asked Talea.

"Beneath the palace. Where else?" It was strange to hear

that sharp voice coming from behind the gargoylish face once

again.

"How can we get out?" Pog murmured worriedly.

"We walked in," said Caz thoughtfully. "Why should we

not also walk out?"

"Indeed," said Clothahump. "If we can get out into the

square we should be safe,"

234

XIV

They were several levels below the surface, but under

Talea's guidance they made rapid progress upward.

Once they had to pause to let an enormous beetle pass. He

waddled down the stairs without seeing them. A huge ax was

slung across his back and heavy keys dangled from his belts.

"I don't know if he's the relief for our level or not," Talea