and thunder he hadn't expected. All the time they reverberated and echoed
through the trees, and there was no amplifier in sight. That vast sound was
pouring purple from the duar resting firm on his shoulder and light beneath his
dancing fingers.
Is it the instrument that's transformed, he thought wildly, or something in me?
That was the key line, of course, from another song entirely. But it
rationalized, if not explained, he thought, what was happening there hi the
forest.
"I'm not a spellsinger," he finally told them. "I'm still not sure what that
is." He was surprised at the humbleness in his voice. "But I always thought I
had something in me. Every would-be musician does. There's a line that goes,
'The magic's in the music and the music's in me.' Maybe you're right, Talea.
Maybe Clothahump was more accurate than even he knew.
"I'm going to do what I can, though I can't imagine what that might be. So far
all I know I can do is make this duar shine purple."
"Never mind 'ow you do it, mate." Mudge swelled with pride at his companion's
accomplishment. "Just don't forget 'ow."
"We need to experiment." Talea's mind was working furiously. "You need to focus
your abilities, Jon-Tom. Any wizard..."
"Don't... call me that."
"Any spellsinger, then, has to be able to be speeific with his magic. Unspecific
magic is not only useless, it's dangerous."
"I don't know any of the right words," he protested. "I don't know any songs
with scientific words."
"You've got the music, Jon-Tom. That's magic enough to make the words work." She
looked around the forest. Dusk was settling gently over the treetops. "What do
we need?"
"Money," said Mudge without hesitation.
"Shut up, Mudge. Be serious."
"I'm always serious where money be concerned, luv."
She threw him a sour look. "We can't buy transportation where none exists. Money
won't get us safely and quickly to Clothahump's Tree." She looked expectantly at
Jon-Tom.
"Want to try that?"
"What? Transportation? I don't know what kind..." He broke off, feeling drunk.
Drunk from the after effects of the music. Drunk from what it seemed he'd done
with it. Drunk with the knowledge of an ability he hadn't known he'd possessed,
and completely at a loss as to what to make of it.
Make of it some transportation, dummy. You heard the lady.
But what song to play to do so? Wasn't that always the problem? No matter
whether you're trying to magic spirits or an audience.
Beach Boys... sure, that sounded right. "Little Deuce Coupe." What would Talea
and Mudge make of that! He laughed wildly and drew concerned looks from his
companions.
His hands moved toward the strings... and hesitated. "Little Deuce Coup"? Now as
long as we're about this, Meriweather, why fool around with small stuff? Try for
some real transportation.
He cleared his throat self-consciously, feeling giddy, and started to sing.
"She's real fine, my four-oh-nine."
In his cradling arms the duar began to vibrate and glow mightily. This time the
luminescence spread from the strings to encompass the entire instrument. It was
like a live thing in his hands, struggling to break free. He hung on tight while
awkwardly picking out the notes. Rising chords sprang from his right fingers.
Talea and Mudge stepped back from him, their eyes wide and intent on the open
grass between. A pulsing, yellow ball of light had tumbled from the duar to land
on the earth. It grew and twisted, swollen with the music. Jon-Tom was facing
away from it, preoccupied with his playing.
When Talea's cry finally made him turn the glowing shape had grown considerably.
It was working, he told himself excitedly! The shape was beginning to assume a
roughly cylindrical outline. He hoped the lemon-yellow convertible would
materialize with a full tank of gas (he didn't know any songs about gasoline).
Then they would continue in luxury through the forest in a vehicle the likes of
which this world had never imagined.
He really was a little drunk now. Too much pride can stupefy the brain as
readily as alcohol. He began to improvise stanzas about AM/FM radios, CB's,
racing stripes and mags and slicks. After all, as long as he was conjuring up a
vehicle he might as well do it up right.
Abruptly there was a loud bang, a toy thunderbolt like a thousand capguns all
going off simultaneously. It knocked him back on his butt. The duar flopped
against his stomach.
There was something long and powerful where the contorting yellow cylinder had
been. It did not boast slicks, but of its traction there could be no doubt.
There were no racing stripes and certainly nothing electronic.
The headlights turned to look at him. They were a bright, rich red save for the
black slashes in the centers. A long tongue emerged from the front and flicked
questioningly at his sprawled form.
There was a noise from the "vehicle." He looked frantically over at it, and it
back at him.
In contrast to his evident terror, both Talea and Mudge appeared anything but
cowed. They were inspecting the vehicle casually, admiringly. That gave him the
courage to sit up and take a closer look at his conjuration.
It was sight of the reins that brought understanding. There was no bit in the
enormous snake's mouth. No living thing could control that single mass of muscle
by pulling on its mouth. Instead, the reins were linked to the two ear openings
set just in back of the eyes.
Talea moved around in front of the snake and gathered in the reins. She gave a
short, sharp tug and barked a single word. Twice as thick as Jon-Tom was tall,
the immense reptile turned and docilely dropped its head to the ground. Red eyes
stared blankly straight ahead.
Jon-Tom had climbed to his feet and allowed himself to be pulled along by an
exuberant Mudge. "Come on then, mate. Tis one hellaciously fine wizard you be!
Sorry I am that I made fun o* you."
"Forget it." He shook himself out of his mental stupor, allowed himself to be
led toward the great snake. It was at least forty feet long, though its immense
bulk made it appear shorter. Four saddles were mounted on its back. They were
secured not by straps around the belly as with a horse but by a peculiar suction
arrangement that held the seats tight to the slick scales.
Having calmed down a little, he had to admit that the snake was quite lovely,
clad as it was in alternating bands of red, blue, and bright orange that ran
like tempera around its girth. This then was the "vehicle" his song had ealled
up. The magic had worked, but translated into this world's terms. Apparently his
abilities weren't quite powerful enough for the forces of magic to take his
words literally.
"Is it poisonous?" was the first thing he could think to ask.
Mudge let out his high, chirping otter-laugh, urged Jon-Tom toward one of the
rear saddles. "Cor, you're a funny one, mate." Talea had already taken the lead
position. She was waiting impatiently for her companions to mount up.
" 'Tis a L'borean riding snake, and what pray tell would it need poison for t'
defend itself against? 'Cept one o' its own relatives, and its teeth are plenty
big enough t' 'andle that occasional family chore."
"What the devil does something this size feed on?"
"Oh, other lizards, most. Any o' the large nonintelligent herbivores it can find
in the wild."
"Even so, some of them are tamed for riding?"
Mudge shook his head at the obvious joke. "Now what were you imaginin' these
were for?" He rapped the leather saddle loudly. The stirrups were a bit high for
him, but strong arms pulled him to where he could get his feet into them.