neetha Napew - Spellsinger

pepper, as active as her eyes and her body.

"Thought I'd never get you out of there." She was talking to Mudge. "I tried to

get you separated but," she glanced curiously up at Jon-Tom, "this great

gangling boy was always between us."

"I'd appreciate it," said Jon-Tom politely, "if you wouldn't refer to me as a

'boy'." He stared unblinkingly at her. "You don't look any older than me."

"I'll change my tune," she shot back, "when you've demonstrated the difference

to my satisfaction, though I hope more time isn't required. Still, I have to

admit that you handled yourself well enough inside the Possum. Clumsy, but

efficient. Size can make up for a helluva lot."

Clove and pepper, he thought. Each word was snapped off sharply in the air like

a string of firecrackers.

She turned distastefully away from his indelicate stare and asked Mudge wth

disarming candor, "How soon can we be rid of it?" She jerked a thumb in

Jon-Tom's bemused direction.

"I'm afraid we can't, m'love. Clothahump 'imself 'as entrusted 'im t' me tender

care."

"Clothahump, the wizard of the Tree?" Again she looked curiously at Jon-Tom.

"Aye. It seems 'e was castin' about for an otherworldly wizard type and 'e came

up with this chap Jon-Tom instead. As I said, because I 'appened t' be unlucky

enough to stumble into this manifestation, I've been ordered t' take care of

'im. At least until 'e can take better care of 'imself." Mudge raised a paw.

"On penalty o' curses too 'orrible t' explain, luv. But it 'ain't been too bad.

'E's a good enough lad, if a trifle naive."

Jon-Tom was beginning to feel a resurgence of the volatility that had set off

the riot in the Pearl Possum. "Hey now, people, I'm getting a little tired of

everyone continually running off my list of disabilities."

"Shut up and do as you're told," said the woman.

"Fuck you, sister," he spat back angrily. "How'd you like your backside the same

color as your hair?"

Her right hand suddenly sported a sixth finger. The knife gleamed in the dim

light. It was no longer than her middle finger but twice as broad and displayed

an unusual double blade.

"And how'd you like to sing about three octaves higher?"

"Please now, Talea." Mudge hurriedly interposed himself between them. "Think of

me, if naught else. 'E's me responsibility. If any 'arm comes to 'im while 'e's

in my care, Clothahump'll 'ave me 'ide. As to 'is singin' I've 'ad more than

enough for one night. That's wot started the trouble in the Possum in the first

place."

"More's the pity for you then, Mudge." But the blade disappeared with a twist of

the wrist, vanishing back inside her right sleeve. "I'll truce on it for you...

for now."

"I'm not taking any orders from her," Jon-Tom said belligerently.

"Now, now, mate." Mudge made placating gestures. "No one's said that you must.

But you're willin' to accept advice, ain't you? That's what I'm 'ere for, after

all."

"That's true," Jon-Tom admitted. But he couldn't keep his eyes off the lethal

little lady Mudge had called Talea. Her temper had considerably mitigated his

first feelings toward her. She was no less beautiful for their argument, but it

had become the beauty of a rose sealed in glass. Delicacy and attractiveness

were still there, but there was no fragrance, and both were untouchable.

"That's the second time tonight you've shown concern for me, luv." Mudge looked

at her uncertainly. "First by 'elpin' us flee that unfortunate altercation back

in the Pearl Possum and now again by respectin' me wishes and makin' peace with

the lad. I've never known you t' be so solicitous o' my 'ealth or anyone else's

exceptin' your precious own. So wot's behind the sudden nursemaidin'?"

"You're right about the first, Mudge. Most of the time you can find your own way

to hell for all I care." Her voice finally mellowed, and for the first time she

sounded vulnerable and human.

"Truth is that I needed some help, fast. The Pearl Possum was the nearest and

most likely place in which to find it. You were the first one I saw that I knew,

and considering what was going on in there I didn't have a whole hell of a lot

of time to be picky. I do need your help." She looked hesitantly past him at

Jon-Tom. "And so I guess I have to put up with him, too." She walked over to

Jon-Tom, looked him over sharply.

"In truth, he's an impressive physical speciman." Jon-Tom stood a little taller.

"What I need now are strong backs, not brains." He lost an inch.

"I knew you were needin' something, dear," said Mudge knowl-edgeably. "I

couldn't see you givin' yourself over t' philanthropy. Jon-Tom, meet Talea. And

widdershins likewise."

"Charmed," said Jon-Tom curtly.

"Yeah, me too." She paused thoughtfully. "So the old magic bugger-in-the-shell

was looking around for an other-world wizard and got you instead. I can imagine

what his reaction must have been."

"I don't need this." Jon-Tom turned away, spoke almost cheerfully. "I don't need

this at all. I'll make my own damn way!"

" 'Old on now, mate," said Mudge desperately. "You think o' me, too. Everyone

think o' poor old Mudge for a change."

"When did you ever think of anything else?" snorted Talea.

"Please, luv. Go easy on the poor lad. 'Tis right that you owe 'im nothing and

likewise meself. But consider, 'e's a whole new world t' try and cope with, and

you're not makin' it any easier."

"What have his problems to do with me?" she replied indifferently, but for a

change left off adding any additional insults.

"You said that you needed our help," Jon-Tom reminded her. "And I suppose we owe

you a favor for helping us out of that mess back there." He jerked a hand back

toward the now distant restaurant. "Or at least for warning us about the police.

You can have the use of my back without my affection. At least I can use that

without running my mouth."

She almost smiled, flipping away hair from her eyes. The oil lamps set her curls

on fire. "That's fair enough. We've wasted enough time here, and I suppose I've

wasted most of it. Follow me...."

They trailed her down the street. No strollers were out this time on so

miserable a night. Rain dripped off tile and wood roofs, trickled metallically

down drainpipes and into gutters. Sometimes they passed a sharper, richer echo

where dripwater plunged into a collection barrel.

They'd walked several blocks before she turned into another alleyway. Several

yards into the narrow passage he began to hear a strange yet somehow familiar

snuffling noise. It sounded like a drunk hog.

Almost stumbling over something firm and heavy, he looked down and saw to his

considerable dismay that it was an arm, badly decomposed and with the fur

falling from forearm and paw. Nude bone projected like soap from one end.

Mudge and Talea were just ahead. The otter was bending over and examining

something on the stones. Jon-Tom hurried to join them.

Two bodies lay sprawled awkwardly across the damp paving, necklaced by puddles

of rainwater. One was that of a squirrel he assumed by attire to be female. She

was richly dressed in a pleated gown puffed up like a cloud by a series of lace

petticoats. Long ruffled sleeves covered each gray-furred arm. Nearby lay a

feathered, broad-rimmed hat, torn and broken. She was half a foot shorter than

Talea and her carefully applied face powder and paint were smeared like mud

across her cheeks.

Nearby was a fat furry form that he at first thought might be a small beaver but