neetha Napew - Spellsinger

reason to think better of me. I've probably given you more ammunition than you

need. The trouble I caused back at Thieves' Hall is a good example. I'm sorry

about things like that, but I can only learn by experience, and if some of those

experiences don't work out very well there's not a whole hell of a lot I can do

about it.

"I mean you no harm, Talea. I'd like to be more than just allies. I want to be

friends. If that's going to come about then I need a little more understanding

and a lot less sarcasm from you. How about it?"

He relaxed in his saddle, more than a little surprised at his lengthy speech.

Talea just stared at him while the snake slid down into a meadow alive with

green and pink glass butterflies and sunflowers blinking their cyclopean amber

eyes.

"I thought we were already friends, Jon-Tom. If I seem to have been brusque with

you it was from frustration and impatience, not from dislike."

"Then you do like me?" He couldn't repress a hopeful grin.

She almost smiled back. "If you prove as quick with your new-found magic as you

are with your words, then we will be safe indeed." She turned away, and as she

did so he caught a glimpse of an expression midway between amusement and genuine

interest. He couldn't be certain it reflected either, for Talea's true feelings

could be as not-there as the gneechees.

So he said nothing further, let the brief exchange pass. It was enough that he

now felt better about their relationship, even if it was no more than an

assurance she was not openly hostile to him. At the same time he discovered a

surefire way for pushing thoughts of the gneechees completely from his mind. All

he had to do was concentrate on the gentle, subtle rolling action of Talea's

derriere on the smoothly undulating snake-saddle....

Another day done. Another day of roots, nuts, berries, and the reptilian meat

which proved considerably tenderer and sweeter than he had any right to expect.

Skillful hunter and braggart that Mudge was, they now had lizard venison or

snake fillet at every meal.

Another day done and a familiar glade came into view. The massive, ancient oak

in its center seemed not to have shed a singie leaf since last he saw it.

They dismounted tiredly. Talea secured the riding snake so that it could move

around in a modest circle. It would not do, she explained, simply to turn it out

to hunt, since without constant attention a L'borean riding snake could revert

rapidly to the wild.

"Shit, you back again?" griped the black-winged shape that opened the Tree door.

"You're either not very bright, man, or else just downright dumb." He looked

appreciatively past Mudge and Jon-Tom. "Now who's dat? Nice lookin' dame."

"My name is Talea. And that's enough for you, slave."

"Slave? Who's a slave? I'll show ya who's a slave!"

"Easy now, Pog old chap." Mudge had moved forward to block the bat's egress by

waving short arms. "She's a friend, even if her tongue be a bit tart at times.

Just tell Clothahump that we're back." He cast a cautioning glance at Jon-Tom.

"We've 'ad some bad luck, we 'ave, that's necessitated us returnin' a mite

early."

"Bet you did," said the bat expectantly, "or ya wouldn't be here now. I bet ya

fouled up real good. It gonna be interesting ta see the old bugger turn ya into

a human." His gaze dropped. "You'll make a funnier lookin' one than normal, wid

dose legs."

"Now is that any way t' greet a friend, Pog? Don't say such 'orrible things or

you'll 'ave me befoulin' me pants and embarrassin' meself in front o' the lady.

We did nothin' we couldn't avoid. Isn't that the truth, lad?" He looked

concernedly back at Jon-Tom.

It took a moment of internal wrestling to go along with the statement. Maybe

Mudge was something less than the most altruistic of teachers, but he'd tried.

The otter was the closest time he had in this world to a real friend, barring

development of his relationship with Talea. Though he had to admit honestly to

himself that if things ever got really tough he was not sure he could depend on

the otter, and certainly not on Talea.

However, there was no point in detailing any of those feelings to Pog. "Yeah. We

had a rough time of it in Lynchbany. And we have other reasons for coming back

to see His Wizardness."

"Well, all right. Come on in. Damn fools... I suppose your presence will make

more work for me again." He flapped on ahead, grumbling steadily in his usual

broken-engine tone.

Jon-Tom stayed a step back of Mudge and the bat. "Be careful about what you say,

Talea. This Clothahump's the one who brought me here, remember. He's a very

powerful wizard and although I found him to be concerned and even kindly, he's

obsessed with this crisis he dreams about, and I've seen him come near to frying

that bat."

"Don't worry," she replied with a tight smile. "I know who he is, and what he

is. He's a borderline senile who ought to have enough sense to retract into his

shell and stay there. Do you think I'm an ignorant country sodder? I follow

current rumors and talemongerings. I know who's in power and who's doing what,

and to whom. That's how I know he's responsible for the mess he's made of your

life, Jon-Tom." She frowned at him.

"You're the weirdest sorcerer I've ever encountered or heard tell of, except

maybe for this Clothahump. In that respect it's a good match, and I can see how

in his searching he seized on you." The comparison startled Jon-Tom. He hadn't

considered that he and the turtle might have personal affinities, or that they

might be responsible for his presence here.

"That's okay," he replied readily. "You're the most interesting mugger I've ever

run into."

"Better not do it on a dark street or you're liable to find out just how

interesting I am," she said warningly.

"Really? I've never done it on a dark street, and I would like to find out how

interesting you are."

She started to snap out a reply, looked uncertain, and then accelerated. "Oh,

come on." There was exasperation in her voice and just possibly something else.

"You're a funny one, Jon-Tom. I'm never quite sure about you."

And you, he thought as he watched her hurry on ahead of him, are maybe not as

hopeless as I once thought.

It was quite astonishing, he thought as he followed her, how the sight of a

beautiful figure teasingly wrapped in snug clothes could shove aside all worries

about such picayune matters as survival. Base animal nature, he mused.

But if he was going to survive in this world, he would have to revert to basics.

Wasn't that just what Clothahump and, in different ways, Mudge had both told

him? Maybe by keeping his thoughts focused on those basics he could keep a

firmer grip on his sanity.

All assuming that Talea didn't change her mind as fast as she seemed able to and

didn't decide to shove a sword through his belly. That thought cooled his ardor,

if not his long-term interest.

Slowing, he found himself standing close to her in the central chamber of the

tree. Her perfume was in his nose, her presence a constant comfort in alien

surroundings. Yes, they would have to remain friends, if naught else. She was

too familiar, too human for him to abandon that.

Pog directed them out of the central room and into a work area he and Mudge

hadn't visited before. The bat hovered nearby while all four watched in silence

as the wizard Clothahump fumbled awkwardly among bottles and vials.