broom?"
"Antigravity."
"what is the way of turning common base metals into
gold?"
Clothahump's contemptuous and slightly bored expression
suddenly paled.
"Well, uh, that is of course no easy matter. You require the
entire formula, of course, and not merely the descriptive term
applied to the methodology."
"of course," agreed the swaying inquisitor.
"Base metal Into gold, my... it has been a while since
I've had occasion to think on that."
Quit stalling, Jon-Tom urged the wizard silently. Give them
an answer, any answer. Then the truth will come out in the
arguing. But say something.
"You need four lengths of sea grass, a pentagram with the
number six carefully set in each point, the words for shifting
electron valences, and... and..."
The Grand Webmistress, the sorcerer Ogalugh, and the
other inhabitants of the chamber waited anxiously.
"And you need... you need," and the wizard looked up so
assuredly it seemed impossible he'd forgotten something so
basic for even a moment, "a pinch of pitchblende."
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THE HOUR Of THE GATE
Ogalugh turned to face the expectant Oil, spoke while
bobbing and weaving his head. "our visitor is in truth, a
wizard webmistress. how great i cannot say from three
questions, but he is of at least the third order." Clothahump
harrumphed but confined his protest to that.
"none but the most experienced and knowledgeable among
the weavers of magic would know the last formula." He
tottered over to rest a feathery leg on the turtle's shoulder.
"i welcome you to gossameringue as a colleague."
"Thank you." Clothahump nodded importantly, began to
look pleased with himself.
The longlegs addressed Oil. "it may be that these visitors
are all that they claim, webmistress. the fact that they have
made so perilous a journey without assurance of finding at its
end so much as a friendly welcome is proof alone of high
purpose, i fear therefore that the words of my fellow wizard
are truth."
"a troublesome thing if true," said the webmistress, "a
most troublesome thing if true." She eyed Jon-Tom. "there
has been hatred and enmity between the plated folk and the
people of the scuttleteau for generations untold, if they can
conquer the inhabitants of the warmlands then it may be, as
you say, that they can also threaten us." She paused in
thought, then climbed lithely to her feet.
"it will be as it must be, though heretofore it has never
been." She stood close by Jon-Tom, the hump of her abdo-
men nearly reaching his shoulder, "the weavers will join the
people of the warmlands. we will do so not to help you but to
help ourselves, better the children of the scuttleteau have
company in dying." She turned to face Clothahump.
"bearer of bad truths, how much time do we have?"
"Very little, I would suspect."
"then i will order the calling put out everywhere on the
Scuttleteau this very day. it will take time to assemble the best
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Alan Dean Foster
fighters from the far reaches, yet that is not the foremost of
our problems, it is one perhaps you might best solve, since
the proof of your abilities as travelers is not to be denied."
She studied the little group of visitors.
"how in the name of the eternal weave are we to get to the
jo-troom gate? we know only that it lies south to southwest of
the scuttleteau. we cannot go back through the earth's throat,
the way you've come to us. even if so large a group could
cross helldrink, my people will not chance the chanters."
"Offspring of the Massawrath," Caz murmured to Mudge.
"Can't say as I blame them. I'm still not sure it wasn't blind
luck that got us through there, not sensible actions."
"I don't want to go back myself," said Talea.
"Nor me, Master," said Pog, hanging from a strand of dry
silk overhead.
"Then it follows that if we cannot return by our first route
we must make a new one southward."
"through the mountains?" Ogalugh did not sound enthusiastic.
"Are they so impassable then?" Clothahump asked him.
"no one knows, we are familiar with the mountains of the
scuttleteau and to some small extent those surrounding us, but
we are not fond of sharp peaks and unmelting snows, many
would perish on such a journey, unless a good route exists, if
one does, we do not know of it."
"so it will be up to you, experienced travelers, to seek out
such a path," stated the queen.
"your pardon, webmistress," said the spindly sorcerer,
"but there are a people who might know such a way, though
they would have no need or use of it themselves."
"why must wizards always talk in riddles? whom do you
speak of, ogalugh?"
"the people of the iron cloud."
Rich, whispery laughter filled the chamber, "the people of
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THE. HOUR Of THE GATE
the iron cloud indeed! they will have nothing to do with
anyone."
"that is so, webmistress, but our visitors are experienced
travelers of the mind as well as the land, for have they not
this very instant convinced us to join with them?"
"we are but independent," Oil replied, "the people of the
iron cloud are paranoid."
"rumor and innuendo spread by unsuccessful traders who
have returned from their land empty-clawed, it is true they are
less than social, but that does not mean they will not listen."
He turned to face Jon-Tom.
"they are much like some of you, friend, like yourself, and
those two there," he pointed to Mudge and Caz, "and that
one above," and he pointed now at Pog.
"They sound most interesting," said Clothahump. "I con-
fess I know nothing of them."
"Are they good fighters?" Flor wondered. "Maybe we can
get more out of them than directions."
"they are great warriors," admitted Ogalugh readily, "but
you speak so facilely of making allies of them. you do not
understand, they are interested in nothing save themselves,
- will support no causes but their own."
"That's just what we were told to expect of the Weavers,"
Jon-Tom said with becoming boldness.
"but we are sensible enough to see advantage and necessi-
ty where they occur," Oil argued back. "the people of the
iron cloud, i am told, are unaffected by events elsewhere.
they are protected by their indifference and their isolation."
"Nothing is safe from the evil the Plated Folk build," said
Clothahump somberly.
"i am already convinced, wizard," she said. "convince
the ironclouders: not me. it will be enough if they can show
our fighters the way through the southern peaks."
"I have some small diplomatic skill," said Clothahump
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Alan Dean Foster
immodestly. "I believe we can persuade them to do that, at
least."
"perhaps, you must, or we can be of no help to you and
your peoples, no matter what the plated ones decide to do. we
will march when ready, but if we cannot find a way, we will
be forced to turn back.
"i will send from among the weavers a personal representa-
tive. perhaps the proof that we have joined with you will help
to convince the people of the iron cloud, in any case,
someone will be necessary to come back to report on the
results of your mission, be it successful or not."
"Not to preempt your prerogatives. Oil," said Caz careful-
ly. "but if we might be permitted to choose the repre-
sentative ... ?"
"Sure," said Jon-Tom quickly, turning to face the
Webmistress. "Would it be okay if a river guard named
Ananthos served as your representative?"