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    Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

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      be that this is such a place, long abandoned and only

      recently rediscovered."

      "Damn!" Mudge shouted abruptly.

      "What is it, what's wrong?" Jon-Tom asked him-

      "Tripped over somethin', mate." He fumbled a bit

      in the darkness, lifted something for all of them to

      feel. jon-Tom identified it immediately. It was a

      primate skull.

      Opiode took it from Mudge and they could see his

      hands moving over the bone. "Cracked when the

      owner was thrown from above," he announced. Eyes

      immediately went to that distant circle of light.

      It was quiet for a moment. Then Sasswise said,

      "Come on then, you lazy lot. Let's see *ow big this 'ole

      is. Maybe there's another way in."

      Everyone fanned out and began feeling along the

      wall. Climbing was out of the question, even for the

      agile otters. The damp stones arched to form a

      dome overhead. Only Opiode might have been able

      to manage it, in his younger days. Now he did not

      have the strength to cling to such a slick overhang.

      "Got an idea," said Mudge. "Let's make a pyramid."

      The otters discussed the proposal briefly, then

      settled themselves in the center of the chamber and

      proceeded to put. on an astonishing display of

      acrobatics- They managed to stack themselves four

      high, but Splitch was still yards shy of the point

      where the vertical shaft of the well broadened out to

      form the curved ceiling.

      The pyramid was collapsed and the otters brushed

      themselves off. "Wouldn't 'ave mattered if I could've

      reached the bottom," Spiitch told them- "The shaft's

      as slick as a snowslide, and there ain't a 'and'old in

      sight. She's too wide to bridge." She eyed Jon-Tom

      thoughtfully. "You're long enough to do it, Jonny-

      Tom, but we've no way to get you up there."

      THE MOMENT OF THE MAOICIAM

      269

      "We had best find some way out," said Opiode.

      This skul! is fresh." Everyone shuffled about uneasily.

      "Doesn't mean a lot," said Domurmur. "One of

      Markus's latest victims, no doubt."

      "No doubt," agreed Opiode readily. "The question

      is, if the victinvis a recent one, who or what has so

      efficiently removed the flesh from the bone?" Faint

      light glinted off his bulging eyes as he searched the

      darkness.

      "If I only had my duar," Jon-Tom was muttering.

      "I might be able to sing up a ladder or rope or

      something. If only we—"

      '. He was interrupted by noise from above. Voices,

      and the blare of ceremonial trumpets.

      "Everyone, get back from the opening and keep

      quiet!'* Opiode ordered them. They spread out quickly.

      Sounds of a scuffle overhead, another blare of

      trumpets, and then a horrible high-pitched scream

      - that increased rapidly in volume. It stopped abruptly

      t when something struck the stone floor with a wet,

      sickening thud. The object bounced once and then

      lay still.

      The sounds from above went away. Jon-Tom leaned

      cautiously into the light and saw nothing. Slowly, the

      refugees gathered around the thing that had been

      'thrown down the well.

      It was a small macaque, no more than four feet

      tall. A torn white lace ruffle ringed the neck above a

      green-and-blue jersey which was tucked into dark

      green shorts of bright snakeskin- Gold embroidery

      decorated the sleeves, and a belt of thin gold links

      circled the narrow waist-

      The neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. One

      arm lay bent straight up behind the spine. Open eyes

      stared toward the well.

      "Died instantly," commented .Opiode softly. "Neck

      broke when he hit. Poor fellow."

      270 Aim Dean foster

      Cascuyom pushed his way to the fore. "1 know

      him. That is the honorable Jestutia."

      "Yes, I know him also." Selryndi bent over the

      body. '"One of our most respected citizens." He^ glanced

      up toward the top of the shaft. "Markus must be

      feeling very confident, to begin murdering such promi-

      nent individuals."

      "Quiet, be quiet!" That was Mudge, snapping at

      them from somewhere far off to the left.

      "Listen, otter, one of our colleagues and friends

      has just been foully slain, and I see no reason to—"

      "Shut up, nut-eater, or I'll stuff that tail of yours

      down your throat," His voice dropped an octave.

      "There's somethin' else in 'ere with us."

      A chill raced down jon-Tom's back. Something

      had removed the meat from that first skull. "Mudge,

      we checked out..."

      "There's another tunnel over 'ere, mates. A big

      one. And there's somethin' in it, and I think *tis

      startin' to move."

      "You are trying to frighten us," Selryndi said

      nervously.

      "Oh, why sure, now, that's it, guv'nor," said Mudge

      sarcastically. "I've got nothin' better to do than make

      up scary stories, right?" He rejoined them and put a

      hand on the squirrel's back. " 'Ow about you go and

      'ave a looksee over there, guv, and prove me out 10

      be the liar you say I am." Selryndi's feet dug into the

      floor.

      "Listen, all of you," Memaw urged them- Mudge

      and Selryndi quit squabbling as something scraped

      against distant stones. This was followed by a heavy

      wheeze. Wind from another tunnel, Jon-Tbm thought-

      Or something waking up.

      Unconsciously, everyone retreated toward the drain-

      age tunnel. "What do the old legends say about

      this?" Jon-Tom asked the wizard.

      THB MOMENT OF THE MAG/CMN 271

      "Nothing," came Opiode's whispered reply. "There

      is not supposed to be anything down here. This is

      the place of the dead."

      Chunk! Gravel shifted underfoot, followed by a vast

      exhaling and an odor like burning charcoal. Quoriy

      clung to Miidge's arm.

      "Tis comin' this way!"

      "Stay still, don't let it know we're afraid," Mudge

      told her, trying to edge behind Memaw and Sasswise.

      Optode raised a hand and muttered something

      under his breath, but it had no effect on whatever

      shared the chamber with them. It was moving nearer.

      "It is no use- I am still constrained from working

      magic by the spell Markus laid upon me. 1 cannot

      break free."

      "Get ready to run for the tunnel," Memaw told

      them. It lay close at hand, but it would take time for

      all of them to crowd inside the narrow opening, and

      a sudden rush ran the risk of stirring to action

      whatever was coming toward them.

      There was a brief explosion of flame in the darkness,

      accompanied by a thick acrid smell. Then a low

      growl, rich and throaty.

      "Try singin' somethin*, matel" Mudge urged Jon-

      Tom.

      "But 1 haven't got the duar."

      "Try anyway, mate. Try somethin'l"

      "Sasswise," said Memaw, "you, Flutz, and I will try

      to divert its attention while the others file into the

      tunne
    l. The rest of you prepare yourselves." The

      otters scrambled to salvage old bones, rocks, any-

      thing that might be used as a weapon.

      Jon-Tom began to sing. He had no plan in mind,

      no brilliant ideas, and he was certain the magic

      wouldn't happen without the duar's music, but he

      had to try. If nothing else, it might concentrate the

      thing's attention on him while the others fled into

      Alan Dean Porter

      272

      the tunnel. The first notes trembled, but his voice

      steadied as he sang on. He could hear his companions

      rushing for the tunnel entrance,

      An immense outline turned toward him -.. and

      hesitated. Mudge called out to him.

      "That's it, mate! Keep singin'. 'Tis workin!"

      It couldn't be, Jon-Tom thought. There was no

      magic without the duar, none, no way! It couldn't be

      working.

      Yet there was no question of it: the thing had

      halted in its leisurely approach,

      A thunderous whisper filled the chamber then.

      "Jon-Tom."

      "Blimey," muttered Splitch, "it knows 'im!"

      "It knows the spellsinger," Opiode observed aloud.

      "Spellsinger," the voice echoed in the darkness.

      Jon-Tom squinted, trying to see in the poor light

      as he took a reluctant step forward.

      A blast of fire erupted over his head- Screams

      came from the otters and the Quorum members as

      they rushed in panic for the tunnel, running into

      each other and stumbling over the bones on the

      floor. But Jon-Tom didn't move. The fire had passed

      over him. Nor had it been directed at any of his

      companions. It had been aimed ceilmgward, to gen-

      erate light and not destruction.

      The instant of brilliant illumination hurt his eyes,

      but not so badly that he couldn't recognize its source.

      "Comrade Falameezar," he asked hesitantly, "is that

      you?"

      XVI

      A great clawed hand descended and picked Jon-Tom

      off the floor. He could feel the thick, leathery mem-

      brane that ran between the fingers. The hand lifted

      him until it paused in front of a mouth full of

      curving teeth. A single puff could incinerate him in

      a second, sizzle his bones and melt his flesh. There

      was heat and the smell of brimstone, but no hint of

      cremation.

      "It is you, Falameezar! I'll be damned."

      "We are all damned, comrade Jon-Tom," said the

      dragon somberly. "What are you doing here?"

      Jon-Tom sat down on the slick, scaly palm and

      turned to his triends. "It's okay. He's a friend. This is

      comrade Falameezar, a good proletarian."

      "What is the man talking about?" Memaw asked

      Mudge.

      The otter strode boldly out into the chamber. "We

      know this bloke, we do, 'E 'elped us once before, on

      our way to Polastrindu. Though wot 'e's doin' 'ere I'll

      be buggered if I know." He looked back into the

      tunnel, which was filled with anxious faces. "Everyone,

      'tis all right. You can come out. Only," he added

      more quietly, "wotever you do, don't say anythin'

      about makin' money." He fought to recall some of

      273

      Alan Dean Poster

      274

      the confusing but effective conversations Jon-Tom

      had held with the river dragon as it had carried

      them up the river Tailaroam toward far Polastrindu

      not so very long ago. The dragon was. - - what had

      Jon-Tom called it?... a Marked Met. No, something

      more compact. Marxist, yeah, that was it. The drag-

      on was a Marxist, whatever that was.

      But he was certainly sensitive about it. Dedicated,

      Jon-Tbm had called him. Mudge knew better. The

      dragon was nuts.

      He spoke to his friends as they hesitantly emerged

      from hiding. "Just act collective," he told them.

      "What does that mean?" Memaw asked him.

      " 'Ow the 'ell do I know? Just make sure everybody

      does it."

      Jon-Tbm was patting the dragon on the snout.

      "Comrade Falameezar, it appears we are to be com-

      panions in misfortune."

      "So it would seem." The dragon set him down

      gently, then looked around and opened his mouth.

      Another blast of flame spewed forth. The members

      of the Quorum cowered against the nearest wall. but

      Opiode and the otters edged forward.

      Falameezar's well-aimed blast set a huge pile of

      debris on fire. It burned fitfully at best but provided

      enough light for everyone to see ctearly for the first

      time since they'd fled from their cell. They gathered

      around while the dragon lay down on his belly, crossed

      his arms, and rested his head against them.

      "How did you get here?" Jon-Tom asked him.

      "I wasn't having much luck trying to raise the

      consciousness of the masses who live on the shores of

      the Tailaroam," the dragon explained, "so 1 deter-

      mined to try to find a group of the oppressed who

      were more receptive.

      "I'd heard much of this land, where the lakes are

      large and the fish plentiful. So I made my way here

      TffB MOJttEiVT OF TaE MAOICIAS

      275

      and, surely enough, found the workers badly in need

      of organizing." He sighed and a puff of smoke drifted

      ceilingward. "But as so often seems to happen, the

      people here were reluctant to listen to me"

      "Can't imagine why," Quorly whispered.

      "So I decideokthis time to try to convert the heads

      of state instead of the people."

      "Uh-oh," said Jon-Tom.

      "Precisely, comrade. 1 allowed myself to be de-

      ceived by the honeyed words of the local ruler, a

      strange human very different from yourself."

      "Markus the Ineluctable."

      "Yes. I did not know at first that he had deposed

      the rightful rulers of this place, nor that he was a

      powerful magician as well as a disgusting fascist

      whose only aim is the exploitation of the masses for

      personal gain. But by the time I learned all this he

      had rendered me sleepy. I vaguely remember being

      brought to the large room above. The floor was

      removed and I was dropped down here, and then

      walled up.

      "I've tried to break out but the stone is solid and

      thick. It will not burn. So here I have remained,

      trapped by this evil imperialist. He does feed me

      well. though. The trumpet calls me when a meal is

      ready." Falameezar moved his head and sniffed at the

      body of Jestutia. "A banker this time. Markus is

      clever. He has learned that I will only eat capitalists."

      "I'm surprised at you." Jon-Tom said accusingly.

      "Even a banker can be converted to the cause of the

      people."

      "Not if he's dead." The dragon sniffed again. "Yes,

      a dead banker. I'm sure of it- I hate bankers, you

      know. Filthy robber-barons."

      Near the back wall Newmadeen was hurriedly

      going through her pockets. Like the recently de-

      ceased macaque, she was also in the business of

      Alan Dean Poster

     
    276

      lending money. Until now she'd never had reason to

      regret it. Fortunately, Falameezar was too involved in

      conversation with his newfound friends to do any

      serious sniffing, and she was able to unburden her-

      self of money, notes, and assorted usurious I.O.U.'s.

      "Besides," he was saying, "a dragon has to eat." He

      extended his long neck and snapped up the unfortu-

      nate Jestutia in a single bite, chewed noisily.

      " *Ere now," murmured Sasswise, looking at New-

      madeen, "this one's gone and fainted."

      Falameezar noticed it, too, sniffed curiously as he

      chewed. "What's wrong with your companion? If I

      didn't know better I'd ..."

      Jon-Tom hurried to distract the dragon. "It's the

      air down here. These are the legitimate rulers of

      Quasequa, by the way. They have no more love for

      Markus than you. They constitute the legitimate, uh,

      soviet that the magician has deposed."

      "I did not realize that this government was so

      advanced," Falameezar replied in surprise.

      "They're working on it," Jon-Tom assured him.

      "Aren't you?"

      "Yes, yes, yes!" The conscious members of the

      Quorum managed to reply with enthusiasm, if a bit

      too quickly.

      Falameezar looked pleased. "It is good to have

      right-thinking company in such sad circumstances-

      As it is good to see my old comrade again. You, too,

      Mudge. even if you did express the occasional reac-

      tionary thought." The otter allowed himself to be

      stroked by a single swordlike talon.

      "If only I could get ahold of my duar," Jon-Tom

      mumbled. "Markus hasn't placed any anti-magic spells

      on me."

      "That is so,'* admitted Opiode. "I would have

      sensed it if he had."

      TUB MOMEATT Or THE MAGICIAM 277

      "Then there's only one thing left to try." He started

      toward the tunnel. "I have to go back to our cell."

      "You're jokin', mate." '

      "No, Mudge. It's the only .way. I've got an idea.

      Mudge, will you and Quorly come back with me?"

      "Count on me, Jenny-Tom," she replied. Her ready

      agreement made Mudge's acquiescence a foregone

      conclusion.

      "I'll be back in a little while, Falameezar"

      "Good luck, comrade."

      "Just a minute." Men-law stepped in front of Jon-

      Tom as he bent to enter the tunnel. She looked

      significantly past him. "What do we talk about with

      the dragon?"

      "Anything you can think of. He likes to chat- The

      last weather we saw outside, jokes... Falameezar's

      great with jokes. Simple things. Just make sure no-

     


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