graduate student...! was a graduate student... in
law at UCLA until I found myself yanked over here."
"UCLA." Markus mumbled. "Well, I'll be damned."
He circled his visitor slowly, inspecting him as careful-
ly as would a museum curator who'djust unwrapped
a newly arrived statue. "You aren't putting me on,
kid? You're for real?"
"Damn right I am. The question is, who the hell
are you?"
At this the wizard straightened slightly, "I'm Markus
the Ineluctable, that's who. Ruler of Qusquoqua." He
Alan Dean Foster
aso
shook his head. "Damn. Never can get that right.
Ruler of Quasequa."
"Can the bullshit and tell me who you are and how
you got here,"
Markus nodded up at him. "A!! right." He re-
moved his top hat, set it on a nearby table. Jon-Tom
saw that he was bald ail the way to the back of his
head.
"But first you tell me how you got here, kid."
"1 don't know," Jon-Tom told him truthfully. "A
local wizard needed help, and for some reason I got
picked on. It was a mistake, but that hasn't made me
feel a whole tot better. He can't send me back, at
least not for a long lime. So I'm stuck here. I've been
stuck here for quite a while. How about you?"
"Well, you know, kid, it's the damndest thing..."
Jon-Tom found a chair and settled down to listen.
XV
"See," Markus told him "I'm a professional magi-
cian." Jon-Tom chose not to comment on this. Hear
him out, he told himself. Markus was more than
willing to talk; indeed, he seemed eager to do so.
"Markus the Ineluctable's my stage handle. My
real name is Markle Kratzmeier, from Perth Amboy,
, New Jersey. I've been doing the same schtick for
years, all up and down the East Coast. I mean, I
knew I'd never get rich, but it was better than
pushing lettuce around in the market, and you can
work your own hours. And you never know when
some agent might see you and ask you to go out to
Vegas.
"Haven't made it yet, though. Once played a nice
joint in Manhattan and a couple of times a real sharp
club in Atlantic City, but usually I ain't that lucky. 1
do the usual gigs: private parties, bar mitzvahs, kids'
birthdays." He made a face. "God, I hate doing kids'
birthdays. Little snot-noses always crawling all over
you, throwing up and begging for candy. I've also
worked most of the bump-and-grind joints from
Jersey City all the way down the coast to Surf City.
I've seen a lot ot Hte. kid, and not much of it pretty."
251
Alan Dean Poster
252
He took a deep breath and leaned on one of the
tables for support.
"So anyway, there I am in this Con Edison power
plant. Bunch of the guys who run the place are
throwing a stag party for their foreman because the
sap's getting married the next day. They don't have
enough money to rent a hall, so they get together
with the night shift and decorate part of the plant on
the sly, see? Wasn't so bad. I've worked in worse
dumps. It was noisy in there, but at least it was clean.
"I'm doing my stuff, building to my big finish,
and it's going pretty good because they're all smashed
or stoned anyway."
"Big finish?"
"Yeah." Markus beamed proudly. "I saw one of the
gals or one of the guys from the audience in half."
"That's original."
"Hey, don't knock it. kid. Maybe it's an old trick, but
it stilt buffaloes the marks. Anyway, I have to do one
more thing before I get to go home. There's this
big cake, see?"
"I get the picture," Jen-Tom said, nodding.
"Yeah. They hired this bimbo from one of the
local topless joints." He paused, thinking, and those
bushy brows drew together. "Merill, or Cheryl, I
think her name was. Anyway, she's gonna pop out of
wave my wand after the guys get through moaning
and make her suit fall off. Pretty neat, huh?"
"Very witty," Jon-Tom admitted carefully.
"So I'm trying to do it up right, give these guys
their money's worth. I'm waving my wand all over the
place"—he demonstrated by fluttering the cheap
plastic wand—"only I don't look where I'm going.
Suddenly everybody's shouting, and the broad is
screaming, and I feel myself going ass-over-backwards,
and I think, okay, that's it, you dumb schmuck, you
TUX MOMENT OF THE MACHCIAM
253
finally bought it. Had to overdo it for a couple of
extra tips. I'm falling over and over and the damn
cape's m my eyes and 1 can see a thing except I get
just a quick look at this big dynamo or generator or
whatever the hell it was.
"Then I hit it. Tell me something, kid. When you
were little, did you ever get real clever and stick your
finger in a socket?" Jon-Tom nodded. "Well. for about
ten seconds there 1 felt like I'd done just that, only
with my head. I'm shaking all over before 1 black out.
"When I wake up, I'm lying in a room in this
rockpile and there's this big dumpy character lean-
ing over me asking me if I feel okay" Markus's
tone was earnest. "Kid, I don't mind telling you that
this is a little tough to take, coming off a slag party
where I didn't have a damn thing to drink. I swear,
not a drop! Couple of beers maybe, one shot of rye.
Pretty good stuff too. But I know I ain't drunk.
"So I try to keep cool even though this refugee
from a horror flick is standing over me. and I get the
idea to wave my wand and make with a few magic
words to try and scare it away, and what do you
think happens? Something picks the big jerk up and
throws him across the room." He paused to take a
long drink from a pewter tankard. "Local booze ain't
half-bad, kid. Anyways, I see that this mass of talking
meat is more scared of me than I am of him. So 1
start fooling around with the old wand"—he con-
ducted his words with the plasic as he spoke—"and
what do you think I find out?"
"What?" asked Jon-Tom guardedly.
"That all those cheap tricks I've been practicing for
twenty-five years, all the junk I've been doing for
spoiled brats in Westchester and their tight-assed moth-
ers who wouldn't give me the time of day, they all work
here. For real. I can do real magic. Not only like the
stuff I've always done, but new stuff, too. Ain't that a pip?
Alan Dean Foster
294
"So I talk to this big dummy who found me and see
that he's long on muscle but slow upstairs, and 1
get the lay of the land. I find out that there's another
magician here who kinda runs things from'an advisor's
post. I feel my way around, introduce myself real
nice, and finally meet up w
ith a couple of the guys
who sit on this Quorum or Mafia or Congress or
whatever you want to call it. Some of them see which
way the shit's flying and some of them don't, and
with a little magic and the help of the ones who see
right, I take over the whole damn city." He spread
his hands and grinned.
"Just like that. Me, Markle Kratzmeier from Perth
Amboy. Now I'm the advisor, the chief, the head
honcho. And this is only the beginning, kid. Only
the beginning. These hairy rubes think I'm the greatest
thing to hit them since chopped liver. And you know
what? I am. There's got to be stuff I can do I ain't
even thought up yet. Me, Markle Kratzmeier. After
years of eating dirt and yessiring and no-ma'aming
and putting up with you wouldn't believe what kind
of shit, I'm on top. You know what? It feels good!"
"That sounds swell," Jon-Tom agreed. "You know
what else? I can do a little magic myself."
"Izzat so?" Markus suddenly looked wary.
"Oh, nothing big, nothing like what you've done,"
Jon-Tom hastened to reassure him. "Just small stuff.
Entertaining, like that." He took a chance and moved
nearer. Markus didn't back away from him-
"Now, what I was thinking was that with the two of
us working together on the problem, maybe we could
figure out a way for both of us to get back home."
Markus eyed him in disbelief. "Get back home?
Why the hell would I want to get back home, kid? I
mean, look at the setup I've got here. Tell you what,
though. You play your cards right and don't screw
up and maybe I can use you. It*d be nice to have
THE MOMENT Or THE MAOICSAM
255
somebody to talk with about back home. But go
back?" He waved at the lavishly decorated room.
"You want me to trade this in and go back to doing
bar mitzvahs and weddings and working crappy clubs
up and down the Jersey coast? You got to be nuts, kid.
"Anyway, I wouldn't know how to start getting
home, even if I cared to try it. No way. See, these
rubes know what money is, and what power is, even
if most of them do look like they came out of the
local zoo or dog pound. In other words, they know
what's important in life. Maybe some of them have
whiskers that grow sideways instead of down, and
paws instead of palms, and fur coats instead of skin,
but they're still people. And I can run the whole
bunch of them. Hell, I am running the whole bunch
of them! And like I said, this is just the begin-
ning.
"Know something else?" He winked and Jon-Tom
felt suddenly unclean. "There's even people like us
here."
"I know."
"And some of the dames look pretty good. I've
seen some broads around here who could've made
it big in the big casinos except for what they all seem
to be a little on the short side- That suits me fine
since'I ain't no center for the Knicks myself- They're
all in awe of me, afraid of me." Markus's sunken
brown eyes looked more piggish than ever, Jon-
Tom mused.
"I like that. I like it a lot, kid. I like them all
bowing and scraping and cowering in front of me.
Go back home?" He laughed, a short nasty sound.
"If I tried touching any broads who looked half as
good as the ones here back in New York, they'd spit
on me and call a cop. You, you're young and good-
looking, kid. You never had that happen to you. You
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256
haven't the vaguest idea what it's like for a woman
you idolize to spit on you.
"Well, nobody spits on Markus the Ineluctable!"
he snarled. "Go home? I'd sooner cut my own throat
right now. All my life I've gotten the short end of the
stick. All my life people have cut me down. Well, no
more. This is my chance to get back at them, and I
ain't giving it up!"
Jon-Tom listened to Markus rave on and forbore
from pointing out that the people of this world had
never put him down. Jon-Tom was Just old enough
and had seen just enough of the world to know for
the first time exactly what he was up against in the
person of Markus the Ineluctable.
He was one of the faceless ones, one of the
insignificant, uninspired, nameless persons whose
only real purpose in life was to occupy a few bytes in
a government computer. A number more than a
reality, an organic something in the shape of a man
who took up space. Someone who under normal
conditions was incapable of doing good and too
incompetent to do evil.
But a twist of space-time, a jog in the smooth
procession of events, an irony of eternity had thrust
him into this world and had placed him in a position
to do damage all out of proportion to his naturally
constituted self- In his own world Markle Kratzmeier
would simply have faded away without making much
of an impression on existence one way or the other.
But in this world, Markus the Ineluctable and his
ability to work magic posed a terrifying threat to
people who had never known of his history, his problems,
his concealed envies and hatreds. That didn't matter to
someone like Markus, who believed that all the forces
of the universe were arrayed against him. He wanted
to strike out, strike back against life, and it wouldn't
matter to him who or what got in his way.
TBK MOMCHT OF TBS MAOICIAH
2B7
So Jon-Tom had been both right and wrong. The
man who had usurped power in the city-state of
Quasequa was indeed from his own world, but only
in body. In spirit he was an alien, an evil import, and
a danger to everyone who came in contact with him.
The problem now at hand was not one of getting
home, but of saving himself and his friends.
It was clear that Markus's only interest lay in
gathering as much power to himself as possible-
Carefully. Jon-Tom was going to have to proceed
very carefully. Markus wasn't stupid. He was no
scholar, but he had street smarts, and those could
prove more dangerous than real intelligence.
"I understand- 1 mean, you've got a helluva setup
here. A couple of expatriates like you and me from
the good old U.S. of A., we ought to stick together.
Like I said. I've got a little talent myself. Noth-
ing like what you can do, of course, but I can do
small stuff- I know we wouldn't be equal, wouldn't
be a team. I wouldn't expect that. But with my
abilities augmenting yours, we could really show
these dumb animals a thing or two."
"Yeah. Hey, you know what I'd really like?" Markus
told him after he'd finished making his proposal.
"I'd really like a couple of Big Macs, some fries, and a
vanilla shake."
"1 could go for that, too," Jon-Tom told him
enthusiastically. "Why don't you let
me do this one?"
He looked around as if searching for something. "I
do my magic better with some music, though. It's
like with your wand. Kind of helps to set the mood,
if you know what I mean. Your guards took my in-
strument away from me. If I could have it back I
promise you a regular MacFeast." He pointed. "Right
on that table there. Then we can make plans."
Markus stared at him for a long moment, then
repeated his thoroughly unpleasant laugh. "What's
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298
the matter with you, kid? You think I was born
yesterday? You think I've spent all my life poking
through every dump on the East Coast without learn-
ing nothing about people?"
"1 don't know what you're talking about," Jon-Tbm
said lamely.
"The hell you don't- You're too eager. Too eager to
throw in with me, too eager to help, too eager to
throw your buddies over, and you're sure as hell too
eager to get your mitts on your guitar or whatever it
was that my boys took off you." He smiled. It was no
more pleasant than his laugh-
"Tell you what, though. I'm a fair guy- This buddy
of mine 1 was telling you about earlier? His name's
Prugg. Maybe I'll let you wrestle him for your duar.
In fact, I'll go one better than that. You beat him and
I'll take you on as my partner, fifty-fifty split, straight
down the line. How's that, kid?" Before Jon-Tbm
could reply, Markus looked past him and whistled.
"Hey, Prugg! Come on out and join us. 1 want to
introduce you to sm^rt-boy here."
Something moved in the darkness near the back of
the room. A section of wall pivoted on its axis,
revealing an immense shape. It stepped out into the
room. In one paw it easily held an iron club that
looked like an Olympic barbell that had been melted
to a stub at one end. A leather cuirass two inches
thick covered it from chest to thighs.
The bear was nearly nine feet tall and probably
weighed in the neighborhood of a ton and a half.
"Kill now?" it rumbled expectantly.
"No, not now." Markus looked back up at Jon-
Tom. "How about it, kid? Can you take him?"
"Come on," Jon-Tbm said uneasily, "this isn't funny."
"You bet your smart ass it ain't." Markus's smile
vanished as he moved forward until he was standing
right next to his prisoner. "You fucking college boys
Tm MOMENT or TOE BSAOicwt 259
think you know everything, don't you? Mummy and