neetha Napew - Spellsinger

gigantic forefeet rose dripping from the water. Tiny crustaceans scrambled

frantically for cover.

The feet lunged toward Jon-Tom. He felt himself being lifted into the air. From

somewhere behind him Flor was yelling frantically and Mudge was muttering a

dirge.

An enormous forked tongue as startlingly red as the slitted eyes emerged from

the mouth and flicked wetly at Jon-Tom's face.

"Comrade!" the dragon declaimed. Then Jon-Tom was gently deposited back on dry

land.

The dragon was thrashing at the water in ecstasy. "I knew it! I knew that all

the creatures of this world could not exist ignorant of the true way." He was so

happy he blew fire simply from pure joy, though now he carefully directed it

away from his stunned audience.

The otter ran out onto the sand, sidled close to the tall human. "Crikey, mate,

be this more o' your unexpected wizardry?"

"No, Mudge." He wiped dragon spit from his cheeks and neek. It was hot to the

touch. "Just a correct guess. It was sparked by something he'd said to us

earlier. Then it came back to me. What I don't understand is how this bonafide

dragon was transformed into a dedicated Marxist."

"Maziwhich? Wot's that? Some otherworldly magickin', maybe?"

"Some people think so. Others would regard it more as pure superstition. But for

God's sake, don't say anything like that to him or we'll all find ourselves in

the soup, literally."

"Pardon my curiosity," he called to the dragon, "but how did you happen to

stumble on the," he hesitated," 'true way'?"

"It happens on occasion that dragons stumble into interdimensional warps,"

Falameezar told him as he calmed himself down. "We seem prone to such

manifestations. I was suspended in one for days. That is when it was revealed to

me. I have tried to make others see but," he shrugged massive black shoulders,

"what can but one do in a world aswarm with voracious, ravenous capitalists?"

"What indeed?" murmured Jon-Tom.

"Even if one is a dragon. Oh, I try now and then, here on the river. But the

poor abused boatmen simply have no comprehension of the labor theory of value,

and it is quite impossible to engage even the lowliest worker in an honest

socialist dialectic."

"I know the problem," said Jon-Tom sympathetically.

"You do?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, we're all embarked on a journey right now, we seven

comrades, because this land which you say is filled with capitalists is about to

be invaded and overrun by an entire nation of totalitarian capitalists, who wish

to enslave completely the, uh, local workers to a degree the primitive bosses

hereabouts can't begin to match."

"A terrible prospect!" The dragon's gaze turned to the others. "I apologize. I

had no idea I was confronting fellow crusaders of the proletariat."

"Dead right," said Mudge. "You ought t' be ashamed o' yourself, mate." He began

cautiously moving back toward the sand. Clothahump looked at once intrigued and

puzzled, but for the moment the wizard was quite content to let Jon-Tom do the

talking.

"Now then, comrade." The massive black shape folded its forelegs and squinched

down in the sandy shallows. "What can I do to help?"

"Well, as you would say, from each according to his ability to each according to

his need."

"Just so." The dragon spoke in a tone usually employed for the raising of

saints.

"We need to warn the people against the invasion of the bosses. To do so we must

warn the local inhabitants of the most powerful center of government. If we

could get upstream as quickly as possible--"

"Say no more!" He rose majestically on hind legs. A great surge of water nearly

washed away their packs. As the dragon turned, his thick black and purple tail,

lined with rigid bumps and spinal plates, stretched delicately onto the sand.

"Allow me the honor. I will take you wherever you wish, and far more quickly

than any capitalist pig of a boat master could manage. On one condition." The

tail slipped partway back into the river.

Jon-Tom had been about to start up the tail and now hesitated warily. "What's

that?"

"That during the course of our journey we can engage in a decent philosophical

discussion of the true nature of such matters as labor value, the proper use of

capital, and alienation of the worker from his output. This is for my own use. I

need all the ammunition I can muster for conversing with my fellows. Most

dragons are ignorant of the class struggle." He sounded apologetic. "We tend to

be solipsists by nature."

"I can understand that," said Jon-Tom. "I'll be happy to supply whatever

arguments and information I can."

The tail slid back onto the sand. Jon-Tom began the climb up the natural ladder

and glanced back at his companions.

"What are you all waiting for? It's safe. Falameezar's a fellow worker, a

comrade."

The dragon positively beamed.

When they had all mounted and found seats and had secured their baggage, the

dragon moved slowly out into the water. In a few minutes they had reached the

center of the river. Falameezar turned upstream and began to swim steadily and

without apparent effort against the considerable current.

"Tell me now," he said by way of opening conversation, "there is a thing I do

not understand."

"There are things none of us understand," said Jon-Tom. "Just now I'm not too

sure I understand myself."

"You are introspeetive as well as socially conscious. That's nice." The dragon

cleared his throat, and smoke drifted back over the riders.

"According to Marx, the capitalists should long since have been swept away and

the world should now exist in a stateless, classless society. Yet nothing could

be further from the truth."

"For one thing," Jon-Tom began, trying not to sound too much like a tutor, "this

world hasn't yet fully emerged from the feudal stage. But more importantly...

surely you've heard of Rosa Luxemburg's Accumulation of Capital?"

"No." A crimson eye blinked curiously back at him. "Please tell me about it."

Jon-Tom proceeded to do so, with caution and at length.

They had no problems. Falameezar could catch more fish in one snap than the

entire party could in a day's trying, and the dragon was quite willing to share

his catch. Also to cook it.

The assured, easy supply of fresh food led Mudge and Caz to grow exceedingly

lazy. Jon-Tom's biggest worry was not occupying Falameezar but that either of

the two dragon-borne lotus-eaters might let something slip in casual

conversation which would tell the dragon that they were no more Marxists than

they were celibate.

At least they were not merchants or traders. Mudge, Caz, and Talea qualified as

free agents, though Jon-Tom couldn't stretch the definition of their erstwhile

professions far enough to consider them craftsmen. Clothahump could be

considered a philosopher, and Pog was his apprentice. With a little coaching

from Jon-Tom, the turtle was able to acquire a semantic handle on such concepts

as dialectical materialism and thus assist with some of the conversational load.

This was necessary because while Jon-Tom had studied Marxism thoroughly it had

been over three years ago. Details returned reluctantly. Each was challenged by

the curious Falameezar, who had evidently committed to memory every word of both

The Communist Manifesto and Das Kapital.

There was no talk of Lenin or Mao, however, for which Jon-Tom was thankful. Any

time the subject of revolution arose the dragon was apt to wonder if maybe they