neetha Napew - Spellsinger

Jon-Tom can conjure up an equally efficient form of water travel."

"Conjure up?" The query came from Flores Quintera, and she looked sideways at

Jon-Tom. "You mean, like magic?"

"Yes, like magic." He endeavored to stand a little straighter as he held out the

duar. "Clothahump was casting about for an otherworldly magician to assist him

with his troubles and he got me. It turns out that my singing, coupled with my

playing of this instrument, coupled with something--I don't know what--gives me

the ability to work magic here."

"That's very impressive," she said in a voice that lit a fire high above his

boots.

"Yes, it would be, except that it's kind of a shotgun effect. I fire off a song

and never manage to hit exactly what I'm aiming at. I was trying for an old

Dodge Charger and instead materialized the grandfather of all pythons. It turned

out to be tamed to riding, though." He smiled at her. "No need to worry about

it."

"I'm not worried," she replied excitedly. "I love snakes. Where is it? It's

really big enough to ride?" She was heading for the door at a respectable jog.

Mudge was whispering to him. "Now you'll 'ave to do better than that, mate.

That's no ordinary maiden you've brought t' yourself. Now if I were you..."

But Jon-Tom didn't hear the rest because he was hurrying after her. Clothahump

watched them, frowning.

"I must make ready. Pog!" the wizard yelled.

"Here, Master." The bat moved tiredly to hover over the workbench, knowing what

would be expected of him. Together they began assembling several large piles of

potions and powders: a traveling sorcerer's work kit.

"Now 'ow did we get ourselves roped into this, luv?"

Talea looked across at the otter. "Don't trouble your furry noggin about it.

We're committed. You agreed yourself."

"Yes, yes," he said softly, looking back to see if Clothahump was paying them

any attention. He was not. "But it were only to keep the old bugger-nut from

puttin' a spell on me. Then I'd never 'ave a chance to slip away when the proper

time comes."

"It's better that we go," she told him. "I've been thinking, Mudge. If a wizard

as great as Clothahump says that the danger is so great, then we must help fight

it if we can."

"I don't think you follow me thoughts, luv. This wizard Clothahump, 'e's a

brilliant one, all right. But 'e 'as lapses, if you know wot I mean." He tapped

his head with one furry fist.

"You're saying he's senile."

"Not all the time, no. But 'e is two 'undred and ought odd years old. Even for a

wizard o' the hard-shell, that's gettin' on a bit, wot? I'm a thinkin' 'e's

overexaggeratin' this 'ere Plated danger."

"Sorry, Mudge, I don't agree with you. I've seen and heard enough to convince me

he's more sane than senile. Besides," she added with a disdainful air, "he was

right in that we have no immediate prospects. In fact, it would do us good to

get out of this area for a while. He'll pay us to do that. So we're doing right

if he's mad and right if he's not."

Mudge looked resigned. "Maybe so, luv. Maybe so. Though I wish 'e'd been a bit

more specific in spellin' out just wot 'e meant by 'worth our while.'"

"What do you mean?"

"Sorcerers 'ave the use o' words that you and I ain't privy to, luv. So it

stands t' reason they could be more subtle when it comes t' the employin' o'

more familiar ones."

"Mudge! Are you saying he lied to us?"

"No. 'E couldn't do that, not and keep 'is wizardry powers. But there be direct

truth and then there be spiral truth, as me sainted mother used t' tell me."

"You had a mother?"

He took a playful swipe at her with a paw and she stepped lithely out of reach.

"I always did think a lot o' you, luv. If you only 'ad a bit more body fur, at

least on your chest, say."

"No thanks." She edged toward the door. "We'd better go see how the others are

making out."

They started down the hallway. "I'm not worried much about the giantess," Mudge

was saying, "but our friend Jon-Tom still displays pangs o' loneliness. I worry

that the appearance o' the girl from 'is 'ome may do him more 'arm than good,

seein' as how besotted 'e is on her."

"Besotted?" Talea studied the walls. "You think so?"

They had almost reached the doorway. " 'Tis in the lad's voice, in 'is manner

and look. I've dodged traps that were better 'idden. But I don't think 'e'll

'ave much luck with this one. She's cheery enough, but I 'ave a 'unch 'er true

love's reserved for 'er new sword. She strikes me a proper mate for a wolverine,

not our Jon-Tom."

"I don't think he's besotted," Talea murmured. "A boyish attraction, certainly."

"And that be somethin' else. 'E may act boyish, but in a fight 'e's all right.

Remember 'is magic, and they also say that those who can draw the gneechees in

the numbers 'e can may 'ave greater powers locked within 'em than even they can

imagine."

"He's already admitted he doesn't know much about his own magical capabilities,"

she replied. "I don't think they're so much greater than what we've seen."

"We're likely to find out on this bug-brained journey."

The riding snake would have carried the extra load with ease, but they had only

four saddles. They were fashioned of the finest hides and specially worked in

far-off Malderpot by the warmland's most skilled leatherworkers.

"Two of us will have to double up," said Clothahump, voicing the obvious as the

last of their baggage was seeured to the snake's lengthy back. "At least Pog

does not present a problem."

"Thank the Design!" agreed the bat, fluttering overhead and adjusting his body

and back pouches. "It going to be hard enough ta slow down ta keep up wid ya."

"Jon-Tom and Flor must have saddles to themselves," the wizard pointed out,

"they being simultaneously the largest and least experienced of us. Perhaps the

two of you... ?" He gestured at Talea and Mudge.

"Oh no." She shook her head negatively. "I'm not riding with him." Mudge looked

hurt.

"In that case," Clothahump bowed as best he could, considering his short legs

and weighty front, "you may join me."

"Fine."

"Cor, now, Talea me luv...."

"Get to your own saddle, you mange-mouthed mucker. D'you honestly think I'd let

you sit that close to me?"

"Talea sweets, you 'ave poor Mudge all wrong."

"Sure I do." She mounted the lead saddle, spoke down to Clothahump. "You can

ride behind me. I trust your hands, and we've a shell between us."

"I can assure you, my dear," said the wizard, sounding slightly offended, "that

I have no intentions in the slightest of..."

"Yeah, that's what they all say." She slipped both boots into her stirrups. "But

come on and get aboard."

Clothahump struggled with the high seat, puffing alarmingly. His short legs and

great weight rendered mounting all but impossible. Jon-Tom moved forward and got

his arms and shoulders beneath the considerable bulk. It was against

Clothahump's principles (not to mention his ego) to use magic to lift himself

into the saddle. With Jon-Tom pushing and Talea pulling he managed to make it

with a minimum of lost pride.

When they were all seated Talea tugged lightly back on the reins. Having slept

all night and morning as was the habit of its kind, the snake came awake slowly.

She let the reins hang loose and the snake started to move forward.

A laugh of surprise and delight came from the third saddle, where Flores

Quintera sat. She was clearly enjoying the new sensation provided by an