bare green and black back and off the smooth fur of the nude
otter standing next to him.
Both watched as the anchors descended. The boat slowly
swung around before halting about a dozen yards farther
downstream. Bribbens tested the lines to make certain both
anchors were fast on the bottom.
Then he Vanished belowdecks for several minutes. Soon
me boat began to sink. Shortly only the mast was visible
above the surface. Then it too had sunk out of sight. Mudge
swam above the spot where it had gone under, occasionally
dipping his head beneath me surface. The amphibian Bribbens
was as at home in the river's depths as he was on land.
Mudge was almost as comfortable, being a faster swimmer
but unable to extract oxygen from the water.
Soon the otter waved to those remaining on shore. He
shouted something unintelligible. They saw his back arch as
he dived. He repeated the dive-appear-dive-appear sequence
several times. Then Bribbens broke the surface alongside him
and they both swam in to the beach.
They silently took turns convoying the floatable supplies
94
THE HOUR OF THE GATE
(carefully packed in watertight skins) out to the center of the
stream, disappearing with them, and then returning for more.
Finally Bribbens stood dripping on the beach. "Good thing
the river doesn't come out of the mountain. Be too cold for
this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?" a thoroughly bemused Flor wanted
to know.
"Let's go and you'll find out."
"Go? Go where?"
"Why, to the ship, of course," said Talea. "You don't
know, do you?"
"No one explains things to me. They just look." She was
almost angry.
"It will all be explained in a minute," said Clothahump
patiently.
The boatman held out a watertight sack. "If you'll put
your clothes in here."
"What for?" Flor's gaze narrowed.
Bribbens explained patiently, "So they won't get wet." He
started to turn away. "It's no difference to me. If you want to
spend the journey inside the probably cold mountain in wet
clothing, that's your business. I'm not going to argue with
you."
Jon-Tom was already removing his cape and shirt. Talea
and Caz were doing likewise. Flor gave a little shrug and
began to disrobe while the wizard made sure his plastron
compartments were sealed tight. Physically he was the weakest
of them, but like the boatman, he would have no difficulty
going wherever they were going.
There was one problem, though. It took the form of a black
lump hanging from a large piece of driftwood.
"Absolutely not! Not on your life, and sure as hell not on
mine." Pog folded his wings adamantly around his body and
looked immovable. "I'll wait for ya here."
"We may not return this way," explained Clothahump.
95
Alan Dean Foster
"You may not return at all, but dat ain't da point dat's
botherin' me," grumbled the bat.
"Come now." Clothahump had elected to try reason on his
famulus. "I could make you come, you know."
"You can make me do a lot of tings, boss," replied the
bat, "but not you nor anyting else in dis world's going to
drag me into dat river!"
"Come on, Pog." Jon-Tom felt silly standing naked on the
beach arguing with the reluctant bat. "Ror, Talea, Caz, and I
aren't water breathers either. But I trust Clothahump and our
boatman to know what they're about. Surely we're going to
reach air soon. I can't hold my breath any longer man you."
"Water's fit for drinking, not for living in," Pog continued
to insist. "You ain't getting me into dat liquid grave and dat'p
final."
Jon-Tom's expression turned sorrowful. "If that's the wa;»
you feel about it." He'd seen Talea and Mudge sneaking
around to get behind the driftwood. "You might as well wai
here for us, I suppose."
"I beg your pardon?" said the wizard.
Jon-Tom put a hand on the turtle's shell, turned him toward
the river. "It's no use arguing with him, sir. His mind i-;
made up and—"
"Hey? Let me loose! Damn you, Mudge, get off m>
wings! I'll tear your guts out! I'll, I'll...! Let me up!"
"Get his wings down!... Watch those teeth!" Hor and
Jon-Tom rushed to help. The four of them soon had the bat
neatly pinned. Talea located some strong, thin vines and
began wrapping the famulus like a holiday package.
"Sorry to do this, old fellow," said Caz apologetically,
"but we're wasting time. Jon-Tom's right though, you know
I'm probably the worst swimmer of this lot, but I'm willing
to give it a go if Clothahump insists there's no danger."
96
THE HOUR OF THE GATE
"Of course not," said the wizard. "Well, very little, in
any case. Bribbens knows precisely how far we must descend."
The boatman stood listening. He eyed the bat distastefully.
"Right. Bring him along, then."
They carried the bound and trussed famulus toward the
water's edge.
"Let me go!" Pog's fear of the river was genuine. "I can't
do it, I tell ya! I'll drown. I'm warning ya all I'll come back
and haunt ya the rest of your damn days!"
"That's your privilege." Talea led the way into the river.
"You'll drown all right," Bribbens told him, "if you don't
do exactly as I say."
"Where are we going, then?" Jon-Tom asked, a little
dazedly.
The frog pointed out and down. "Just swim, man. When
we get to the spot I'll say so. Then you dive ... and swim."
"Straight down?" Jon-Tom kicked, the water smooth and
fresh around him. A little shiver of fear raced down his back.
Clothahump and Bribbens and to a lesser extent Mudge need
have no fear of the water. It was one of their environments.
But what if they were wrong? What if the underwater cave (or
whatever it was they were going down into) lay too deep?
A friendly pat on one shoulder reassured him. " 'Ere now,
why the sunken face, mate? There ain't a bloomin' thing t'
worry about." Mudge smiled around his wet whiskers. " 'Tain't
far down atall, not even for a splay-toed 'uman."
Bribbens halted, bobbing in the warm current. "Ready then?
Just straight down. I've allowed for the carry of the current,
so no need to worry about that."
Everyone exchanged glances. Pog's protests bordered on
hysteria.
"Here, give the flyer over." A disgusted Bribbens gripped
one side of the bat, locking fingers tightly in the bindings.
97
Alan Dean Foster
Pog resembled a large mouse sealed in black plastic. "You
take the other side."
"Righty-ho, mate." Mudge grabbed a handful of vines
opposite the frog.
With the two strongest swimmers holding their reluctant,
wailing burden, Bribbens instructed the others. "Count to
three, then dive." The humans nodded. So did Caz, who was
doing a good job of concealing his fears.
"Ready? One... two... better stop screaming and take a
deep breath, bat, or you'll be ballast.. .three!"
Backs arched into the morning air. The howling ceased as
Pog suddenly gulped air.
Jen-Tom felt himself sliding downward. Below the surface
the water quickly turned darker and cooler. It clutched feebly
at his naked body as he kicked hard.
Around him were the dim forms of his companions. A
slick palm touched one fluttering foot, pushed gently. Looking
back he could make out the plump shape of Clothahump. He
was swimming casually around the nonaquatics. The water
took a hundred years off his age, and he moved with the grace
and ease of a ballet dancer.
The push was more to insure that no one lost his orienta-