neetha Napew - Spellsinger

bets, or simply stared curiously. A ferret on the far side rolled a seven,

moaned. Next to him was a mole wearing immensely thick dark glasses and a peaked

derby. He dumped an eight, then a six, then a seven, and finally a losing three.

The dice came around to Jon-Tom. He tossed them into the circle. Two fours and a

two. Then a ten. The dice went to the fisher on his right. He rolled a ten.

Cries went up from the crowd, which pushed and shoved discourteously at the

circle of players. Jon-Tom rolled a six. Back to the fisher, who looked

confident. Over went the three dice, came up showing a one, a two, and a three.

The fisher kicked dirt into the circle. The shouts were ear-shaking.

Jon-Tom had won again.

He spoke as he turned. "There you go, friend. It's time to..." He stopped. There

was no sign of the rabbit.

Only a smartly dressed howler monkey nearby had noted the disappearance of

Jon-Tom's advisor. "The tall fella? White with gray patches?" Jon-Tom nodded,

and the simian gestured vaguely back down a main passage.

"He went off that way a while ago. So little golden ground squirrel came up to

him... delicate little bit of fluff she was... and he went off with her."

"But I can't..."

A hand touched his shoulder. He turned, found himself staring across into

aluminum-like eyes, glistening and penetrating. "I have not done it with many

humans, man. I understand some of you are fond of strange practices." The voice

was low, husky, and not altogether uninterested. "Is that true also with you?"

"Listen, I don't think you understand."

"Try me."

"No, no... that's not what I meant. I mean..." He was more flustered than at any

tune since they'd entered the hall. "It's just that I can't, I don't want you.

Go back there." He waved across the circle. "Go back to him."

"Just what the hell are you implying, man?" Her eyes flashed and she stepped

back.

The fox was suddenly standing next to her, angry at something other than his

losing. "Something wrong with Wurreel? Do you think I need your charity?"

"No, it's not that at all." He slowly climbed to his feet, kept a firm grip on

the staff. Around him the crowd was murmuring in an unfriendly manner. The looks

he was receiving were no longer benign.

"Please," he told the bitch, "just go back to your master here, or friend, or

whatever."

The fox moved nearer, jabbed a clawed finger in Jon-Tom's stomach. "Just what

kind of fellow are you? Do you think I don't pay my debts? Do you think I'd

renege on my obligations?"

"Screw your obligations, Mossul," said the wolf haughtily, "What about my

honor?" Her tone and gaze were now anything but interested. "See how he looks at

me, with disgust. I am insulted."

That brought a nasty series of cries from the crowd. "Shame, shame! ...down with

him!"

"It's not that. I just... don't want you."

She made an inarticulate growl, hit him in the chest with a fist. "That does

it!" She looked around at the shifting circle of spectators. "Is there a male

here who will defend my reputation? I demand satisfaction... of this kind if not

the other!"

"Your reputation..." Jon-Tom was becoming badly tongue-tied. "I didn't insult...

what about him?" He pointed at the fox. "He was the one selling you."

"Loaning, not selling," countered the fox with dignity. "And it was mutually

agreed upon."

"That's right. I'd do anything for Mossul. Except be insulted, like this, in

public." She put an affectionate arm around the fox's silk-clad shoulders.

"Turn him out, turn him out!" came the rising shouts.

"Wot's 'appening 'ere, mate. I leave you alone for a bit and you manage t' upset

the 'ol 'all." Mudge was at Jon-Tom's back and Talea nearby.

"I don't understand," Jon-Tom protested. "I've been winning all day."

"That's good."

"And I just won that," and he indicated the she-wolf, "for a couple of nights."

"That's very good. So what's your problem, mate?"

"I don't want her. Don't you understand? It's not that she's unattractive or

anything." The subject of that appraisal growled menacingly. "It's just that...

I can't do it, Mudge. I'm not prejudiced. But something inside me just...

can't."

"Easy now, mate. I understand." The otter sounded sympathetic. "Tis part o' your

strange customs, no doubt, and you're the loser for it."

"Well, tell them that. Tell them where I'm from. Explain to them that I'm..."

Mudge put a hand momentarily over Jon-Tom's mouth. "Hush, lad. If they think

that you're from some other land, no matter 'ow alien, you won't longer 'ave

their protection. As it be, they think you're a local footpad like Talea and

meself." His eyes noted the weight dragging down the hem of Jon-Tom's cape. "And

judgin' from wot you've won from some 'ere, they'd be more than 'appy to see you

made fair game. You wouldn't last twenty seconds." He pulled at an arm. "Come on

now. Quiet and confident's the words, while they're still arguin' wot t' do."

They were bumped and even spat upon, but Mudge and Talea managed to hustle their

thoroughly confused friend out of the gambling chamber, through the tunnels, and

back out the iron door that sealed off the hall from the outside world.

It was mid-morning outside. Jon-Tom suddenly realized how exhausted he was. He

must have played through the night. That explained why he hadn't seen Talea or

Mudge. They'd been sleeping. But it was time-deceptive inside Thieves' Hall,

where the lamps burned round the clock, much in keeping with the activities of

the members.

"Why didn't you go with her?" Talea sounded bitter. "Now look at us! Forced out

of the one refuge where we'd be impregnable." She stalked on ahead, searching

the nearby corral for their team and wagon.

"I suppose I should have lost." He and Mudge had to hurry to keep pace with her.

"That would have made you happy, wouldn't it?"

"It would be better than this," she snapped back. "Where do we go now? When

you're turned out of Thieves' Hall, there's no place else to run to, and we

haven't been in hiding near long enough. We'll still be fresh in the minds of

citizens and police, if anyone noticed us. Damn it all!" She jumped the fence,

kicked at the flank of an innocent riding lizard. It hissed and scuttled out of

her way.

"It's too bad you weren't around, Mudge. You could have played that last round

for me."

"It don't work that way, mate. You 'ad t' play it out yourself, from what I

'eard. 'Tis a pity your peculiar customs forced you t' insult that lovely lady's

honor. You refused 'er. I couldn't 'ave substituted meself for you thatawise,

much willin' as I would've been."

Jon-Tom stared morosely at the ground, "I can't believe she was trading herself

willingly like that."

"Blimey lad, 'tis bloody ignorant you be about women. She did it for love of 'er

fox-chap. Couldn't you see that? And so when you refused 'er, you insulted 'im

as well. You don't know much about the leanin's o' ladies, do you?"

"That's ridiculous. Of course I..." He looked away. "No. No, not a great deal,

Mudge. My energies have been pretty much focused on intellectual pursuits.

That's one reason why I wanted to be a musician so badly. Musicians don't seem

to have to worry about women."

"There not be much pleasure in ignorance, mate. You're a damn-sight better off

understandin' the whys and wherefores o' what's goin' on." He nodded ahead.

"Now 'ave a look at dear Talea there. Don't tell me you don't find 'er