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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