neetha Napew - Spellsinger

mutual congratulations.

They then took their leave, the General to his staff meeting, Eejakrat to his

quarters to ponder a possible impossible mental intrusion into Cugluch, and

Kesylict to arrange the mundane matters of mealtimes and official appointments

for the following day.

The Minister had good reason to ponder the Empress' words concerning the

notorious cleverness of the soft ones. By such similar adroitness had he

retained his head upon his neck, even to agreeing with the others that the time

to move had arrived. Privately he thought Eejakrat should be given all the time

he wished. Kesylict had read the forbidden records, knew the litany of failure

of past battles with the soft ones. So while he was as ignorant of the

complexities of the Manifestation as any of the Royal Council, he knew that in

Eejakrat's manipulation of it lay the Plated Folk's hopes for final victory over

their ancient enemies, and not in General Mordeesha's boasts of superior

military strength.

Alone, Skrritch pulled a second call cord. A servitor appeared with a tall,

narrow-spouted drinking vessel. The Empress washed down the remnants of the

recent toast, then turned and stared once more out the window.

Thickening mist obscured even the ramparts of the Keep. The city of Cugluch and

its milling thousands were blotted out as though they did not exist. Day turned

toward night as the mist and fog grew darker, indicating the down passage of the

sun.

Mordeesha and his fellow generals had been chafing at the bit for several laying

periods. She had held off as long as possible in order to give Eejakrat still

more time to study his Manifestation. But knowing the wizard, such study could

go on forever.

The elastic of patience had been broken now. Soon the word would spread

throughout the Greendowns that the war had begun.

For an instant she thought again of the disturbing dream. Perhaps it had been no

more than a daymare. Even empresses were subjeet to strain. Eejakrat did not

seem overly concerned about it, so there was no reason for it to continue to

trouble her thoughts.

There were promotions and demotions to be bestowed, executions to order,

punishments to decide, and rewards to be handed out. Tomorrow's court schedule,

so ably organized by the prosaic Kesylict, was quite full.

Such everyday activities seemed superfluous, now that the first steps toward

final victory had been initiated. She savored the thought. Of all the emperors

and empresses of the far-flung Empire she would be the first to stride

possessively through the gentle lands of the soft ones, the first to bring back

plunder and thousands of slaves from the other side of the world.

And after that, what might she not accomplish? Even Eejakrat had voiced thoughts

about the possibilities the Manifestation might create. Such possibilities

extended beyond the bounds of a single world.

She turned on her side and leaned back against a hundred glowing red rubies and

crimson cushions. Her ambition was as boundless as the universe, as far-reaching

as Eejakrat's magic. She could hardly wait for the war to begin. Glory would

accrue to her and to Cugluch. With the wizard's assistance why should she not

become Empress of the Universe, supreme ruler of as yet unknown beyonds and

their inhabitants?

Yes, she would have the exquisite pleasure of presiding over destruction and

conquest instead of records and stupid, fawning, peaceful citizens. Cugluch was

on the march, as it should be. Only this tune it would swell and grow instead of

sputtering to an ignominious halt!

The hallucination faded until it was only an amusing and insignificant

memory....

XV

Jon-Tom was split down the middle. Half of him was cool and damp from the early

morning mist. The other side was warm and dry, almost hot with the weight

leaning against it.

He opened his eyes with that first lethargic movement of awakening and saw a

white-and-black-clad form snuggled close against his own. Flor's long black hair

lay draped over his shoulder. Her head was nestled in the crook of his left arm.

Instead of moving and waking her, he used the time to study that perfect, silent

face. She looked so different, so childlike in sleep. Further to his left

slumbered the silent shape of the wizard.

With his head and limbs retracted Clothahump was a boulderish form near a clump

of bushes. Jon-Tom started to look back down at his sleeper when he became aware

of movement just behind him. Startled, he reached automatically for his war

staff.

"Rest easy, Jon-Tom." The voice was less reassuring than the words it spoke.

Talea moved down beside him, staring morosely at the recumbent couple. "If I

murder you, Jon-Tom, it won't ever be in your sleep." She stepped lithely over

them both and trotted over to Clothahump.

She bent and rapped unceremoniously on the shell. "Wake up, wizard!"

A head soon appeared, followed by a pair of arms. One hand held a pair of

spectacles which were promptly secured before the turtle's eyes. Then the legs

appeared. After resting a moment on all fours, the wizard pushed back into a

squat, then stood.

"I am not accustomed," he began huffily, "to being awakened in so brusque a

fashion, young lady. If I were of less understanding a mind..."

"Save it," she said, "for him." She pointed to the unsteady shape of Pog. The

sleepy bat was fluttering awkwardly over to attend to his master's early morning

needs. He'd been sleeping in the branches of the great oak overhead.

"What's da matter?" he asked tiredly. "What's all da uproar? Can't ya let a

person sleep?"

"C'mon," Talea said curtly, "everybody up." She looked back at Jon-Tom, and he

wondered at something he thought he saw in her gaze. "Well," she asked him, "are

you two going to join this little session or aren't you? Or do you intend to

spend the rest of your life practicing to be a pillow?"

"I might," he shot back, challenging her stare and not moving. She looked away.

"What's the trouble, anyway? Why the sudden fanaticism for an early start? I've

never noticed you passing up any chance for a little extra sleep."

"Ordinarily I'd still be asleep, Jon-Tom," she replied, "but what made me wake

up wasn't too much sleep but the lack of something else. Isn't it obvious to any

of you yet?" She spread both hands and turned a half circle. "Where's Mudge?"

Jon-Tom eased Flor off his shoulder. She blinked sleepily and then, becoming

aware of her position, slid to one side. Her cat stretch made it difficult for

him to concentrate on the problem at hand.

"Mudge is gone," he told her as he rose, trying to work the kinks out of

shoulders and legs.

"So da fuzzy little bugger up and split." Pog used the tip of one wing to clean

an ear, grimacing as he did so. "Don't surprise me none. He as much as said he

was gonna do it first chance he got."

"I thought better of him." Jon-Tom looked disappointedly at the surrounding

woods.

Talea laughed. "Then you're a bigger fool than you seem. Don't you realize, the

only thing that kept him with us this far was wizardry threats." She jabbed a

thumb toward Clothahump.

"I am most upset," said the wizard quietly. "Despite his unfortunate

predilection for illegal activities, I rather liked that otter." Jon-Tom watched

the turtle's expression change. "Well, I cannot bring him back, but I can fix

him, where he is. I'll put a seekstealth on him."