buttons which had come loose as he'd scrambled to
32 Alan Dean Foster
avoid the demons. "I have never seen demons like
that"
"How many demons have you seen?" Markus
grinned at the squirrel. "They're harmless now. We
can resume our discussion."
This was done. When Markus's questions had all
been answered, he gave the pair his orders. Not
advice, orders. Markus the Ineluctable had already
moved beyond making suggestions, and Kindore and
Vazvek hastened to carry out his bidding. Things
were moving rapidly now, and the master was pleased.
He dismissed them, watched with amusement as
they retreated quickly, and then walked over to in-
spect his now-silent aerial servants.
"Only three." He rubbed a forefinger across his
lower lip, then gestured at the last demon in line.
"See, there's blood on this one's teeth."
"I saw. Master."
"But whose blood? Could it be demon blood?"
Prugg strained but could not come up with a quick
reply.
Markus looked pained. "You're slow, Prugg, you
know that? Real slow."
"Forgive me, Master. 1 know that I am stupid. But
I try."
"That's okay- I don't keep you around for your wit.
You may as well know that it can't be demon blood
because there is no blood in any of these creatures,
Just as there is no life in them. They only live at my
command. They're not sleeping, Prugg. They're dead.
Until I choose to give them life again. Therefore it
stands to reason, doesn't it, that this is the blood of
the black messenger?"
"Yes, that must be so," agreed Prugg. "Yes, the
black flier must be down, along with whatever mes-
sages he carried from that slimy bad loser, Opiode."
THE MOMENT or THE MAOICIAN 33
prugg looked pleased. "Can I tell the old wizard his
^'Servant has been killed?"
^ "No, Prugg, you cannot. Nor will I tell him. Let
faun squat in his bath believing his messages are
going to be received. Let him think his trusted
messenger ran out on him. Let him stew those possi-
bilities over for a while. It will keep him out of our
hair for now." He smited thinly. "I have a lot to do
^and I don't want to have to waste time worrying
^about the salamander."
•^•~r
f-
^ "What's wrong with him?"
Pandro heard the words faintly through the black
^haze that was the inside of his head. There was a
Hflaoment during which he thought the words might've
^fceen part of a dream, a bad dream he'd been having.
1'Then more words, different, a little more intelligible
^Cthis time.
"How the hell should I know? Do I look like a
^ohysician?"
H • "You always did look like something escaped from
||a hospital," countered the first voice. "One where
j|they treat mental problems."
j- "Shut up, you two. I think he's coming around,"
^commanded still a third voice.
^ The voices went away again- It occurred to Pandro
$fhat perhaps they might be waiting for some kind of
^response from him-
^- "I... can hear you okay, but I can't see you. I'm
||»lmd"
^l' "He's blind," said one voice, not in the least
f Sympathetic.
^ "Have you tried," said the third voice, a little more
rntly, "opening your eyes?"
Pandro mulled this over. "Why, no. I haven't."
|»"Try," the voice urged him.
H Pandro blinked, discovered he was lying on a crude
34 Alan Dean Foster
platform built between two branches high above the
forest floor. The foliage around him was swarming
with the graceful, swift shapes of fellow fliers. They
had one thing in common: every one of them was
considerably smaller than he was. None stood more
than a foot high.
Two of the three who were staring down at him
wore blue-and-black kilts with bright chartreuse vests,
while the third was clad in a kilt of white and yellow
with a pink vest. This attire was subdued compared
to their natural coloration, which was brilliant and
metallic.
At first he had a hard time telling them apart.
They hardly ever stopped moving, darting in front
of him, behind, making erratic loops around the
branches, arguing constantly with each other, and
occasionally flitting overhead to sip from one of the
huge tropical blossoms that burst forth from the
tree.
Shoving backward with his wingtips, Pandro sat
up, winced in pain- His wing came away from the
back of his neck unbloodied, however. If he hadn*t
turned at the last instant, the demon would have bit
him in the face. The image that produced in his
mind made him queasy all over again.
"Where are you from?... What are you doing
here?... Who are you?... Why the neck chain... ?"
The trio threw one question after another at him
and didn't wait for replies- One of them was tapping
him on the shoulder as it spoke.
"Take it easy," Pandro pleaded. A quick inspection
revealed that the surrounding trees were filled with
tiny homes and traditional covered nests. "My turn
first- Where did you find me?"
One of the querulous hummingbirds drifted in
front of Pandro, fanning his face with wings that
were sensed rather than seen- It nodded to its right.
THE MOMENT or TAB MAOJCUW 35
*You came down over there." Crimson flashed
^beneath its bill. "Busting branches all the way down.
^.Wonder is that you didn't bust your skull."
"Some others tried to,"
"Oh ho!" said another, whose throat was blue as
an alpine tarn. "A fight! If it's a fight they're looking
-for..." He curled the tips of both wings into fists and
glared belligerently at the sky, looking for someone
^Co sock.
" "Watch your blood pressure. Spin," said the third
? bird. He was slightly less hyperkinetic than his
; companions.
"Watch your rear." The bird dove on him, and the
'ithree of them went round and round in the air,
iJabbing with feet, wings, and beaks. When they fmal-
^ly separated, Pandro saw that no harm had been
H-done. None of them was even breathing hard. Two
^ buzzed upward for a sugary drink while the third
;' regarded the injured visitor sorrowfully.
.^ "That's the trouble these days. Nobody knows how
^.to have a good fight anymore."
("I know civilization's in a bad way." Pandro agreed
dryly, "but it's going to be worse if I don't carry out
U wy mission."
^ "Hot damn, a mission!" He danced all around
JrfPandro as the raven stood and tested his wings.
^ Emeralds flashed on his tiny chest.
,, Except for a few missing feathers and the naked
^-•Icar that ran from the back of his neck downward,
^randro seemed to be intact.
; "Yes, a mission for the wizard Opiode, former
}-®hief advisor to the Quorum of Quasequa."
tit "Never go into Quasequa," declared the humming"
>ird, shaking its head and forcing Pandro to duck
°ack to avoid the swinging bill. "Nothing going on
lere. Talk about dull."
, "Cousin, to your kind, everything is dull. Are the
36 Alan Dean Foster
rest of us responsible if you happen to live at a speed
twenty times faster than anyone else's?"
"No, you're not," said the one called Spin. "You
can't help it if you're slow and boring. The whole
rest of the world is slow and boring."
"It's liable to get exciting real soon," said Pandro
grimly. "Some weird human's taken over as chief
advisor in Quasequa. This Opiode's worried about
what he might do. The newcomer's a powerful
magician, and Opiode doesn't seem to think much of