for now."
"I'm not taking any orders from her," Jon-Tom said belligerently.
"Now, now, mate." Mudge made placating gestures. "No one's said that you must.
But you're willin' to accept advice, ain't you? That's what I'm 'ere for, after
all."
"That's true," Jon-Tom admitted. But he couldn't keep his eyes off the lethal
little lady Mudge had called Talea. Her temper had considerably mitigated his
first feelings toward her. She was no less beautiful for their argument, but it
had become the beauty of a rose sealed in glass. Delicacy and attractiveness
were still there, but there was no fragrance, and both were untouchable.
"That's the second time tonight you've shown concern for me, luv." Mudge looked
at her uncertainly. "First by 'elpin' us flee that unfortunate altercation back
in the Pearl Possum and now again by respectin' me wishes and makin' peace with
the lad. I've never known you t' be so solicitous o' my 'ealth or anyone else's
exceptin' your precious own. So wot's behind the sudden nursemaidin'?"
"You're right about the first, Mudge. Most of the time you can find your own way
to hell for all I care." Her voice finally mellowed, and for the first time she
sounded vulnerable and human.
"Truth is that I needed some help, fast. The Pearl Possum was the nearest and
most likely place in which to find it. You were the first one I saw that I knew,
and considering what was going on in there I didn't have a whole hell of a lot
of time to be picky. I do need your help." She looked hesitantly past him at
Jon-Tom. "And so I guess I have to put up with him, too." She walked over to
Jon-Tom, looked him over sharply.
"In truth, he's an impressive physical speciman." Jon-Tom stood a little taller.
"What I need now are strong backs, not brains." He lost an inch.
"I knew you were needin' something, dear," said Mudge knowl-edgeably. "I
couldn't see you givin' yourself over t' philanthropy. Jon-Tom, meet Talea. And
widdershins likewise."
"Charmed," said Jon-Tom curtly.
"Yeah, me too." She paused thoughtfully. "So the old magic bugger-in-the-shell
was looking around for an other-world wizard and got you instead. I can imagine
what his reaction must have been."
"I don't need this." Jon-Tom turned away, spoke almost cheerfully. "I don't need
this at all. I'll make my own damn way!"
" 'Old on now, mate," said Mudge desperately. "You think o' me, too. Everyone
think o' poor old Mudge for a change."
"When did you ever think of anything else?" snorted Talea.
"Please, luv. Go easy on the poor lad. 'Tis right that you owe 'im nothing and
likewise meself. But consider, 'e's a whole new world t' try and cope with, and
you're not makin' it any easier."
"What have his problems to do with me?" she replied indifferently, but for a
change left off adding any additional insults.
"You said that you needed our help," Jon-Tom reminded her. "And I suppose we owe
you a favor for helping us out of that mess back there." He jerked a hand back
toward the now distant restaurant. "Or at least for warning us about the police.
You can have the use of my back without my affection. At least I can use that
without running my mouth."
She almost smiled, flipping away hair from her eyes. The oil lamps set her curls
on fire. "That's fair enough. We've wasted enough time here, and I suppose I've
wasted most of it. Follow me...."
They trailed her down the street. No strollers were out this time on so
miserable a night. Rain dripped off tile and wood roofs, trickled metallically
down drainpipes and into gutters. Sometimes they passed a sharper, richer echo
where dripwater plunged into a collection barrel.
They'd walked several blocks before she turned into another alleyway. Several
yards into the narrow passage he began to hear a strange yet somehow familiar
snuffling noise. It sounded like a drunk hog.
Almost stumbling over something firm and heavy, he looked down and saw to his
considerable dismay that it was an arm, badly decomposed and with the fur
falling from forearm and paw. Nude bone projected like soap from one end.
Mudge and Talea were just ahead. The otter was bending over and examining
something on the stones. Jon-Tom hurried to join them.
Two bodies lay sprawled awkwardly across the damp paving, necklaced by puddles
of rainwater. One was that of a squirrel he assumed by attire to be female. She
was richly dressed in a pleated gown puffed up like a cloud by a series of lace
petticoats. Long ruffled sleeves covered each gray-furred arm. Nearby lay a
feathered, broad-rimmed hat, torn and broken. She was half a foot shorter than
Talea and her carefully applied face powder and paint were smeared like mud
across her cheeks.
Nearby was a fat furry form that he at first thought might be a small beaver but
that turned out to be another muskrat. An oddly creased tricornered hat still
rested on the motionless head, though it was tilted over the hidden eyes. A pair
of cracked pince-nez speeta-cles, much like those worn by Clothahump, reflected
the still, small pools between the cobblestones. The iridescent blue silk suit
he wore was rich enough to shine even in the dim light of the alley.
One boot had come off and lay limply near a naked foot. Its rhine-stone-inlaid
mate lay up against the far wall. Talea ignored it as she rechecked the body
with professional speed.
"Blimey, luv, what's all this now?" Mudge's attention was directed nervously
back toward the narrow plank of light from the street. "I ain't so sure we want
to be compromisin' ourselves with business of this disreputable nature."
"Shit, you're compromised just by standing there." Talea heaved at the thick
silk jacket. "Not that your reputation would suffer. Who are you lying to,
Mudge; yourself, me, or him?" and she nodded briefly toward the self-conscious
Jon-Tom. "You know what the cops will do if they find you standing here flapping
your whiskers."
"Now Talea, luv--" he began.
"I think we've exchanged enough pleasantries, otter. I need you for muscle, not
platitudes.
"Now I don't object to an occasional mugging, especially when the apple stands
around begging to be plucked." She was pulling gold buttons off the comatose
muskrat's trousers. "But murder's not my style. This fat little twerp decided to
show off and resist, and I'll be damned if that fuzzy harridan he was with
didn't try to help him. Between the two of them I didn't have much time to get
selective with the hilt of my sword. So I bashed him proper and then she just
sort of fainted."
Mudge moved over to study the fallen lady. While Jon-Tom I i watched, the otter
knelt and moved her head. There was a dark stain I on the stones and a matching
one at the back of the furry skull.
"This one's still bleedin', you know."
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone." Talea did not sound particularly contrite. "I
was just trying to keep them off. I told you, she fainted. What the hell was I
supposed to do, dive underneath and break her fall?"
Mudge moved away and performed a similar examination of the muskrat. "Now why
would you 'ave t' do that, luv, when these gentle rocks 'ave done such a neat
job of it for you?" he said sardonically. His paws moved over the muskrat's
face. "Still breathin', the two of 'em. Bloody lucky you are." He looked up at
her.
"Right then. What is it you want of us?"
She finally finished her scavenging, gestured back toward the street. "I've got
a wagon tied around the corner on Sorbarlio Close. If I'd left it alley-opposite
it would've blocked traffic and worse, drawn attention to this little drama.