neetha Napew - Spellsinger

on the earth. It grew and twisted, swollen with the music. Jon-Tom was facing

away from it, preoccupied with his playing.

When Talea's cry finally made him turn the glowing shape had grown considerably.

It was working, he told himself excitedly! The shape was beginning to assume a

roughly cylindrical outline. He hoped the lemon-yellow convertible would

materialize with a full tank of gas (he didn't know any songs about gasoline).

Then they would continue in luxury through the forest in a vehicle the likes of

which this world had never imagined.

He really was a little drunk now. Too much pride can stupefy the brain as

readily as alcohol. He began to improvise stanzas about AM/FM radios, CB's,

racing stripes and mags and slicks. After all, as long as he was conjuring up a

vehicle he might as well do it up right.

Abruptly there was a loud bang, a toy thunderbolt like a thousand capguns all

going off simultaneously. It knocked him back on his butt. The duar flopped

against his stomach.

There was something long and powerful where the contorting yellow cylinder had

been. It did not boast slicks, but of its traction there could be no doubt.

There were no racing stripes and certainly nothing electronic.

The headlights turned to look at him. They were a bright, rich red save for the

black slashes in the centers. A long tongue emerged from the front and flicked

questioningly at his sprawled form.

There was a noise from the "vehicle." He looked frantically over at it, and it

back at him.

In contrast to his evident terror, both Talea and Mudge appeared anything but

cowed. They were inspecting the vehicle casually, admiringly. That gave him the

courage to sit up and take a closer look at his conjuration.

It was sight of the reins that brought understanding. There was no bit in the

enormous snake's mouth. No living thing could control that single mass of muscle

by pulling on its mouth. Instead, the reins were linked to the two ear openings

set just in back of the eyes.

Talea moved around in front of the snake and gathered in the reins. She gave a

short, sharp tug and barked a single word. Twice as thick as Jon-Tom was tall,

the immense reptile turned and docilely dropped its head to the ground. Red eyes

stared blankly straight ahead.

Jon-Tom had climbed to his feet and allowed himself to be pulled along by an

exuberant Mudge. "Come on then, mate. Tis one hellaciously fine wizard you be!

Sorry I am that I made fun o* you."

"Forget it." He shook himself out of his mental stupor, allowed himself to be

led toward the great snake. It was at least forty feet long, though its immense

bulk made it appear shorter. Four saddles were mounted on its back. They were

secured not by straps around the belly as with a horse but by a peculiar suction

arrangement that held the seats tight to the slick scales.

Having calmed down a little, he had to admit that the snake was quite lovely,

clad as it was in alternating bands of red, blue, and bright orange that ran

like tempera around its girth. This then was the "vehicle" his song had ealled

up. The magic had worked, but translated into this world's terms. Apparently his

abilities weren't quite powerful enough for the forces of magic to take his

words literally.

"Is it poisonous?" was the first thing he could think to ask.

Mudge let out his high, chirping otter-laugh, urged Jon-Tom toward one of the

rear saddles. "Cor, you're a funny one, mate." Talea had already taken the lead

position. She was waiting impatiently for her companions to mount up.

" 'Tis a L'borean riding snake, and what pray tell would it need poison for t'

defend itself against? 'Cept one o' its own relatives, and its teeth are plenty

big enough t' 'andle that occasional family chore."

"What the devil does something this size feed on?"

"Oh, other lizards, most. Any o' the large nonintelligent herbivores it can find

in the wild."

"Even so, some of them are tamed for riding?"

Mudge shook his head at the obvious joke. "Now what were you imaginin' these

were for?" He rapped the leather saddle loudly. The stirrups were a bit high for

him, but strong arms pulled him to where he could get his feet into them.

"Climb aboard, then, mate, and ride."

Jon-Tom moved to the last saddle. He got a good grip on the pommel, put his

right boot in the stirrup, and pulled. His left foot dragged against the side of

the creature, which took no notice of the contact. It was like kicking a steel

bar.

He found himself staring past Mudge at the beacon of Talea's hair. She uttered a

low hiss. The snake started forward obediently, and Jon-Tom reached down and

used the curved handle-pommel to steady himself.

The movement was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Not that he'd ever

ridden any animal other than the ponies who once frequented his hometown, but it

still seemed incredibly gentle. He was put in mind of the stride of the lizards

who had pulled their lost wagon; only having no legs, the snake produced an even

smoother ride. Technically, it had no gait at all.

There was no jouncing or bouncing. The snake glided like oil over bumps and

boulders. After a few minutes of vibration-free ride Jon-Tom felt confident in

letting loose of the handle. He relaxed and enjoyed for a change the passing

sights of the forest. It was amazing how relaxed the mind could become when

one's feet no longer hurt.

He made certain the duar was secured across his belly and his fighting staff was

still tight on his back, then settled back to enjoy the ride.

The only thing difficult to get used to was the feeling of not knowing where

they were headed, since the snake's slithering, rippling method of making

progress was quite deceptive. Eventually he learned to keep a close eye on the

reptile's head. It was more like traveling in a tacking sailboat than on a

horse.

Smooth as the ride was, the constant moving from right to left in order to

proceed forward was making him slightly queasy. This was solved when he directed

his attention sideways instead of trying to stare straight ahead.

"I didn't mean to call this monster up, you know," he said to Mudge. "I was

trying for something completely different."

"And what might that 'ave been?" A curious Mudge looked back over his shoulder,

content to let Talea lead now that he'd given her a heading.

"Actually, I was sort of hoping for a Jeep Wagoneer, or maybe a Landcruiser. But

I didn't know any songs--any spells--for them, so I tried to come as close as I

could with what I had."

"I don't know wot the first might be," replied Mudge, meticulously preening his

whiskers and face, "but a 'landcruiser' be wot we 'ave, if not just precisely

the variety you'd 'oped for."

"I guess." Jon-Tom sounded thoughtful. "I suppose it's a good thing I didn't

know any songs about tanks. No telling what we might have ended up with."

Mudge frowned. "Now that's a peculiar thing t' say. Wot would we 'ave needed

with extra water, wot with streams aboundin' throughout this part o' the

Bellwoods?"

Jon-Tom started to explain, decided instead that this was not the time to launch

into a complicated explanation of otherworldly technologies. Mudge and Talea

appeared quite pleased with the snake. There was no reason for him not to be

equally satisfied. Certainly its ride was far smoother than any meehanized

vehicle's would have been.

Idly he ran his fingers over the small strings of the duar. Delicate harplike