neetha Napew - Spellsinger

glamor, he'd come to associate with Polastrindu.

Flor's expression twisted in disgust. "Surely it's not this bad in the city."

"I sure hope not." Talea sniffed once, tried to close down her sense of smell.

"It is said that the larger the town, the dirtier the habits of its citizens."

Caz trod lightly on the filthy paving lest it sully the supple leather of his

enormous shoes. "This derives from the concentration of the inhabitants on the

making of money. Fastidiousness follows financial independence, not hard work."

One narrow stone arch bridged an open trench. As they crossed, the stench nearly

knocked Flor unconscious. Jon-Tom and Caz had to help her across. Once past she

was able to stand by herself and inhale deep drafts of only partly tainted air.

"Mierda, what a smell!"

"It should be less overwhelming once we are inside the city gate." Clothahump

did not sound particularly apologetic. "There we will be away from the main

sewer outfalls."

A rattling warning fell on them as Pog dipped close. "Master, soldiers come from

da gate. Maybe dat overfly patrol wasn't so indifferent as it seemed. Maybe we

in for some trouble."

Clothahump waved him away as one might a large housefly. "Very good, Pog, but

you worry overmuch. I will deal with them."

It was a well armed if motley-looking knot of soldiers that soon came into view,

marching toward them. Between twenty and thirty, Jon-Tom guessed. He slipped his

club-staff from its lacings and leaned on it expectantly. Other hands drifted in

the vicinity of sheathed swords. Mudge made a show of inspecting his bow.

The troop was led by a heavily armored beaver, a thickset individual with a

no-nonsense gleam in his eyes. Catching sight of the column, sailors and

stevedores scattered for cover. While at first they had ignored the newcomers,

they now shied from them as if they carried plague.

Boots, sandals, and naked feet generated a small rumble of retreat as other

onlookers scurried for safety. Ten soldiers detached themselves with forced

casualness from the main body. They quick-marched to the left to get behind the

newcomers and cut off any possible retreat.

"That doesn't look promising." Jon-Tom's grip tightened on the staff as he

watched the maneuver.

"Easy, my friend." The imperturbable Caz stepped forward. "I will handle this."

"They would not dare to attack us," said an outraged Clothahump. "I am an

emissary to the Council of Wizards and as such my person is inviolable and

sacred."

"Don't tell me, good sir," said Caz, gesturing at the nearing troops. "Tell

them."

Now the walls had become menacing instead of beautiful. Their stone towers cast

threatening shadows over the travelers. From ships and other places of

concealment the mutterings of watchful sailors and merchants could be heard.

Finally the main body of soldiers drew up in a crescent facing them. Their

leader stepped forward, pushed his helmet back on his furry forehead with a

muscular paw, and studied them curiously. In addition to his chain mail, helmet,

and thicker steel plates protecting particularly vulnerable places there was an

unusual moon-shaped iron plate strapped to the thick, broad tail. It was studded

with sharp spikes and would make a devastating weapon if it came to

close-quarter fighting.

"Well," he said, speaking with a distinct lisp, "what have we here? Two gianth,

a tough-looking little female"--Talea spat at the ground--"a dithreputable otter

type, a fop, and an elderly gentleman of the amphibian perthuathion."

"Good sir." Caz bowed slightly. "We are travelers from downriver on a mission

that is of great importance to Polastrindu and the world."

"Thath motht interethting. Whom do you reprethent?"

"By and large we represent ourselves for now, primarily in the person of the

great wizard Clothahump," and he gestured toward the impatient turtle. "He

carries information vital to our survival that he must present to the city

council."

The beaver was casually twirling an ugly skull-splitter of a mace, indifferent

to where the spike-studded ball might land.

"Thath all very nice, but it remainth that you're not citithenth of thith city

or county. At leatht, I athum you are not. Unleth of courth you can produth your

identity chith."

"Identity chits?"

"Everyone who liveth in the county or thity of Polathrindu hath an identity

chith."

"Well, since we don't come from the county or city of Polastrindu, as you've

just been informed, obviously we don't have any such thing," Jon-Tom said in

exasperation.

"That doth not nethetherily follow," said the beaver. "We get many vithitoth.

They all have properly thtamped identity chith. To be freely admitted to the

thity all you have to do ith apply for and rethieve your proper chith." He

smiled around enormous teeth. "I will be happy to provide you with thom."

Jon-Tom relaxed a little. "Good. We'll need theven."

"You very funny, big man. Thinth you have thuch a good thenth of humor, for your

party it will cotht only"--the beaver performed some silent cogitation--"theven

hundred silver pietheth."

"Seven hundred...!" Clothahump sputtered all over the pavement. "That's

extortion! Outright robbery! I am insulted. I, the great and wise and knowing

Clothahump, have not been so outraged in a hundred years!"

"I believe that our leader," said Caz quietly, "is somewhat disinclined to pay.

Now if you will just convey word of our arrival to your superiors, I am sure

that when they know why we have come--"

"They won't hear why you have come," broke in the beaver, "until you pay up. And

if you don't pay up, they won't hear why you were overcome." He grinned again.

His huge teeth were badly stained by some dark brown liquid. "Actually, ith

eighty silver pietheth per party for identity cardth, but my men and I have to

make a living of thom kind, don't we? A tholdierth pay ith pretty poor."

There were angry murmurs of agreement from the troops standing behind him.

"We will depart peacefully then," said Caz.

"I don't think tho," said the beaver. The ten soldiers who had detached

themselves earlier now moved in tightly behind the travelers, blocking their

path. "I don't want you going around to the other gateth."

Flor whispered to Mudge, "Are all your cities so hospitable?"

Mudge shrugged. "Where there's wealth, luv, there's corruption. There's a lot of

wealth in Polastrindu, wot?" He eyed the soldiers nervously.

Some of them were already fingering swords and clubs in anticipation of a little

corrective head-bashing. They looked healthy and well fed, if not especially

hygienic.

" 'Ere now, your wizardship, why don't we just pay up? These blokes look as

though they'd rather 'ave themselves a good massacre than anythin' else. If we

wait much longer we won't 'ave ourselves much o' a choice."

"I will not pay." Clothahump obstinately adjusted his spectacles. "Besides, I

can't remember that asinine silver spell."

"You won't pay, eh?" The beaver waddled over until he was glaring eye to eye

with the turtle. "Tho you're a great withard, eh? Leth thee how much of a

withard you really are," and he flipped the mace around, snapped his wrist, and

struck Clothahump square on the beak.

The sorcerer let out a startled cry and sat down hard. "Why you impudent young

whelp!" He fumbled for his glasses, which had been knocked loose but not broken.

"I shall show you who is a wizard. I will disembowel you, I'll... !"