was that one couldn't think of anything except the forbidden word or, in this
case, the gneechees.
His gaze hunted the dark, always aware of minuscule not-quite-luminescent sparks
that darted tantalizingly just out of view. But there are parts of the mind that
make their own demands. Without being aware of it, his eyes slowly grew as tired
as the rest of his body and he fell into a soft, deep sleep serenaded by the
dull cooing of giant walking ferns, night-flying reptiles, and a pool full of
harmonizing water bugs who managed a marvelous imitation of what sounded like
the journey movement from Prokofiev's Lieutenant Kije Suite.
When he woke the next morning, the bright sunlight helped push thoughts of
gneechees from his mind. The reciprocal nature of their existence was instantly
apparent. The more you searched for them the more of them you attracted. In
contrast, the less you cared and the more you accepted their existence as
normal, the less they swarmed. With practice it seemed that the honey could will
away the bees.
Before afternoon the tireless riding snake was slithering uphill. They had
entered a region of familiar hills and low valleys. Off to the east was
something Jon-Tom had not seen on his previous march through this section of the
Bellwoods. He and Mudge had not climbed quite this high.
A distant rampart of mountains ragged and rough as the Grand Tetons lay swathed
in high clouds and haze. It stretched unbroken from north to south.
Mudge had taken a turn at guiding their mount, and Talea had moved in behind
him. She turned as she replied to Jon-Tom's question.
"Those? Zaryt's Teeth." She was gesturing across the treetops as they began to
descend again into concealing forest. "That great massif there just to the north
is Brokenbone Peak, which holds up this part of the world and whose slopes are
littered with the dead bones of would-be climbers."
"What's on the other side?"
There was a tremor in her reply and, startlingly for the redoubtable Talea, a
hint of fear. "The Greendowns, where reside the Plated Folk."
"I've heard of them." Childishly, he pounced on the rare hint of weakness. "You
sound scared of them."
She made a face, brows narrowing, and idly shook aside red hair, ran a hand
through the glowing curls. "Jon-Tom," she said seriously, "you seem to me to be
a brave if occasionally foolish man, but you know nothing of the Plated Folk. Do
not dismiss so lightly that which you are unfamiliar with.
"Your words do not insult me because I am not afraid to confess my fear. Also, I
know that you speak from ignorance, or you would not say such things. So I am
not upset."
"I might say such things even if I knew." He was properly abashed. But now he
stared at her openly.
"Why are you doing that?" Green eyes stared curiously at him.
"Because I want to upset you."
"I don't understand, Jon-Tom."
"Look, you've been taunting me, chiding me, and generally making fun of me ever
since we met. I wanted to strike back at you. Not that I've given you much
reason to think better of me. I've probably given you more ammunition than you
need. The trouble I caused back at Thieves' Hall is a good example. I'm sorry
about things like that, but I can only learn by experience, and if some of those
experiences don't work out very well there's not a whole hell of a lot I can do
about it.
"I mean you no harm, Talea. I'd like to be more than just allies. I want to be
friends. If that's going to come about then I need a little more understanding
and a lot less sarcasm from you. How about it?"
He relaxed in his saddle, more than a little surprised at his lengthy speech.
Talea just stared at him while the snake slid down into a meadow alive with
green and pink glass butterflies and sunflowers blinking their cyclopean amber
eyes.
"I thought we were already friends, Jon-Tom. If I seem to have been brusque with
you it was from frustration and impatience, not from dislike."
"Then you do like me?" He couldn't repress a hopeful grin.
She almost smiled back. "If you prove as quick with your new-found magic as you
are with your words, then we will be safe indeed." She turned away, and as she
did so he caught a glimpse of an expression midway between amusement and genuine
interest. He couldn't be certain it reflected either, for Talea's true feelings
could be as not-there as the gneechees.
So he said nothing further, let the brief exchange pass. It was enough that he
now felt better about their relationship, even if it was no more than an
assurance she was not openly hostile to him. At the same time he discovered a
surefire way for pushing thoughts of the gneechees completely from his mind. All
he had to do was concentrate on the gentle, subtle rolling action of Talea's
derriere on the smoothly undulating snake-saddle....
Another day done. Another day of roots, nuts, berries, and the reptilian meat
which proved considerably tenderer and sweeter than he had any right to expect.
Skillful hunter and braggart that Mudge was, they now had lizard venison or
snake fillet at every meal.
Another day done and a familiar glade came into view. The massive, ancient oak
in its center seemed not to have shed a singie leaf since last he saw it.
They dismounted tiredly. Talea secured the riding snake so that it could move
around in a modest circle. It would not do, she explained, simply to turn it out
to hunt, since without constant attention a L'borean riding snake could revert
rapidly to the wild.
"Shit, you back again?" griped the black-winged shape that opened the Tree door.
"You're either not very bright, man, or else just downright dumb." He looked
appreciatively past Mudge and Jon-Tom. "Now who's dat? Nice lookin' dame."
"My name is Talea. And that's enough for you, slave."
"Slave? Who's a slave? I'll show ya who's a slave!"
"Easy now, Pog old chap." Mudge had moved forward to block the bat's egress by
waving short arms. "She's a friend, even if her tongue be a bit tart at times.
Just tell Clothahump that we're back." He cast a cautioning glance at Jon-Tom.
"We've 'ad some bad luck, we 'ave, that's necessitated us returnin' a mite
early."
"Bet you did," said the bat expectantly, "or ya wouldn't be here now. I bet ya
fouled up real good. It gonna be interesting ta see the old bugger turn ya into
a human." His gaze dropped. "You'll make a funnier lookin' one than normal, wid
dose legs."
"Now is that any way t' greet a friend, Pog? Don't say such 'orrible things or
you'll 'ave me befoulin' me pants and embarrassin' meself in front o' the lady.
We did nothin' we couldn't avoid. Isn't that the truth, lad?" He looked
concernedly back at Jon-Tom.
It took a moment of internal wrestling to go along with the statement. Maybe
Mudge was something less than the most altruistic of teachers, but he'd tried.
The otter was the closest time he had in this world to a real friend, barring
development of his relationship with Talea. Though he had to admit honestly to
himself that if things ever got really tough he was not sure he could depend on
the otter, and certainly not on Talea.
However, there was no point in detailing any of those feelings to Pog. "Yeah. We
had a rough time of it in Lynchbany. And we have other reasons for coming back
to see His Wizardness."
"Well, all right. Come on in. Damn fools... I suppose your presence will make
more work for me again." He flapped on ahead, grumbling steadily in his usual
broken-engine tone.
Jon-Tom stayed a step back of Mudge and the bat. "Be careful about what you say,