longer shone directly down into the Earth's Throat.
"We made it." He hugged a startled Talea. "Damned if
we didn't!"
The character of the land they had emerged into was very
different from that of the Swordsward and the river country of
Bribbens' home. It was evident they had climbed a consider-
able distance.
Behind them towering crags reached for the stars. Clouds
capped them, though they were not as thick as those on the
eastern flanks of the range. No open plains or low scrub
bordered the river here. There was no fragrant coniferous
forest or high desert.
Mountains rose all around the little river valley in which
they found themselves. Despite the altitude the country dis-
played the aspect of more tropical climes. It was warm but
not hot, nor was it particularly humid. Jon-Tom thought of a
temperate-zone climax forest.
Vines and creepers leaped from tree to tree. A thick
undergrowth prevented them from seeing more than a few
yards inland on either shore.
It was with relief that Jon-Tom inhaled the fresh air,
fragrant with the aroma of flowers and green things. Though
hardly tropical, the climate was more pleasant despite the
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altitude than any place he'd yet been. Compared to the
bone-rattling winds of the Swordsward it was positively
Edenic.
"Fine country," he said enthusiastically. "I'm surprised
none of the warmlanders have tried to migrate here."
"Even if they knew this land existed they could not get
over the mountains," Clothahump reminded him. "Only a
very few in memory have ever made that journey. Even if
would-be settlers could survive the trip, kindly keep in mind
that this land is already occupied. Legend says the Weavers
dislike any strangers. Consider what their opinion would be
of potential colonists."
"And these are the people we're trying to make allies of?"
Flor wondered.
"They are not overt enemies," Clothahump told her,
shaking his head slowly. "Legend says they are content
enough here in their land. Yet I admit legend also insists they
hold no love for any but their own kind. It is said they like
most to keep to themselves and maintain their privacy.
"As near as I know we are the first folk to journey past the
mountain barrier in hundreds of years. Perhaps the legends no
longer hold true. It may be that in all that time the inhabitants
of the Scuttleteau have mellowed."
"They sure sound charming," said Flor apprehensively. "I
can't wait to meet them." Her voice rose in tone, and she
mimed a sardonic greeting. "Buenos dias, Sefior Weaver.
Como esta usted, and please don't eat me, I'm only a
tourist." She sighed and grimaced at me wizard. "I wish I
were as confident of success as you are."
"I'm 'ardly an optimist, meself," Mudge commented,
surveying the near shore and considering a warm swim.
"Oh well. Surely they will see the need," said Caz
hopefully, "to stand together against a common threat."
"That is to be hoped," the wizard agreed. "But we cannot
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be certain. We can only pray for a friendly welcome. Should
we actually achieve anything more than that, it would exceed
my wildest hopes."
There were some shocked looks in response to that. Jon-
Tom spoke for all of them. "You mean... you're not sure
you can persuade them?"
"My dear boy, I never made any such claim."
"But you gave me the impression..."
Clothahump held up a hand. "I made no promises. I
merely stated that there was little we could do if we remained
in Polastrindu and that we might have some chance of
securing another strong ally were we to successfully complete
this journey. I never said that reaching the Scuttleteau was a
guarantee we could do that. Nor did I ever display any
optimism about striking such an alliance. I simply declared
that I thought it would be a good idea to try."
"You stiff-backed, bone-brained old fart, you led us on!"
Talea was nearly too furious for words. "You cajoled us
through all that," and she pointed back toward the mouth of
the tunnel they'd recently emerged from, "through every-
thing we've suffered since leaving Polastrindu, without think-
ing we had any chance to succeed?"
"I did not say we did not have a chance." Clothahump
patiently corrected her. "I said our chances were slim. That is
different from nonexistent. When I say achieving such an
alliance would exceed my wildest hopes, I am merely being
realistic, not fatalistic. The chance is there."
"Why the fuck couldn't you have been 'realistic' back in
Polastrindu?" she growled softly. "Couldn't you have told us
how slight you thought our chances of success were?"
"I could have, but no one thought to ask me. As to the
first, if I had been more, shall we say, explicit in my
opinions, none of you would have come with me. Those who
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might have would not have done so with as much confidence
and determination as you have all displayed thus far."
Since this logic was irrefutable, no one chose to argue.
There was some spirited name-calling, however. The wizard
ignored it as one would have the excited chatter of children.
Pog found the situation unbearably amusing.
"Now ya see what I have ta deal wid, don'tcha?" He
giggled in gravely bat-barks as he swung gleefully from the
spreader. "Maybe now ya all'll sympathize wid poor Pog a
little bit more!"
"Shut your ugly face." Talea heaved a hunk of torchwood
at him. He dodged it nimbly.
"Now, now, Talea-tail. Late for recriminations, don'tcha
tink?" Again the rich laughter. "His Bosship has ya all
where he wants ya." A series of rapid-fire squeeks seeped out
as he delightedly lapped up their discomfort.
"It does seem you've been somewhat less than truthful
with us, sir," said Caz reprovingly.
"Not at all. I have not once lied to any of you. And the
odds do not lessen the importance of our trying to conclude
this alliance. The more so now that we have actually com-
pleted the arduous journey through the Earth's Throat and
have reached the Scuttleteau.
"Admittedly our chances of persuading the Weavers to join
with us are slight, but the chance is real so long as we are
real. We must reach for every advantage and assistance we
can."
"And if we die on the failure of this slight chance?" Flor
wanted to know.
"That is a risk I have resigned myself to accepting," he
replied blandly.
"I see." Talea's fingers dug into the wood of the railing.
She stared at the river as she spoke. "If we all die, that's a
risk you're prepared to take. Well, I'm not."
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"As you wish." Clothahump gestured magnanimously at
me water. "I herewith release you from any obligation to
assist me further. You may commence your swim homeward."
"Like hell." She peered back at Bribbens. "Turn this
deadwood around."
The boatman threw her a goggle-eyed and mournful look.
"How much can you pay me?"
l&T >»
"I see." He turned his attention back to the river ahead. "I
take orders only from those who can pay me." He indicated
Clothahump. "He paid me. He tells my boat where it is to
go. I do not renege on my business agreements."
"Screw your business agreements, don't you care about
your own life?" she asked him.
"I honor my commitments. My honor is my life." This