practice."
"I do that occasionally," he replied, embarrassed. "I always managed to be out
gardening whenever the cheer squad had practice." He smiled hesitantly.
Loud, high-pitched feminine laughter came from behind him. Everyone turned to
see Talea sitting on the wood-chip floor, holding her sides and roaring
hysterically.
"I don't know you," said Flores Quintera. "What's so funny?"
"Him!" She pointed at Jon-Tom. "He was supposed to be helping Clothahump cast
for an engineer to switch places with. So he was thinking back to his home, to
familiar surroundings. But he couldn't keep his mind on his business. It was
drifting while he was spellsinging, from engineering to something more pleasant,
I think."
"I couldn't help it," Jon-Tom mumbled. "Maybe it was something about the song. I
mean, I don't remember exactly what aspects of home I was concentrating on. I
was too busy singing. Maybe it was the line, 'If I had to tell her....'" He was
more embarrassed than he'd ever been in his life.
"So you're responsible for my being here," said the raven-haired amazon,
"wherever 'here' is?"
"Sort of," he mumbled. "I've kind of admired you from afar and when I should
have been thinking of something else, my thoughts sort of... drifted," he
finished helplessly.
"Sure. That clarifies everything." She fluffed her hair, looked around at man,
woman, otter, turtle, bat. "So since this guy is too tongue-tied to explain,
please would one of you?"
Clothahump sighed and took her by the hand. She didn't resist as he led her to a
low couch and sat her down. "It is somewhat difficult to explain, young lady."
"Try me. When you come from the barrio, nothing surprises you."
So the wizard patiently elucidated while Jon-Tom sat off to one side morose and
at the same time perversely happy. If he was going to be marooned here, as it
seemed he was, there were worse people to be trapped with than the voluptuous
Flores Quintera.
Eventually Clothahump concluded his explanation. His intense listener rose from
the couch and walked over to confront Jon-Tom.
"Then it wasn't entirely your fault. I think I understand. El tortuga was very
enlightening." She turned and waved around the chamber. "Then what are we
waiting here for? We have to help these people as best we can."
"That is most commendable of you," said an admiring Clothahump. "You are a most
adaptable young lady. It is a pity you are not the eng'neer we sought, but you
are bigger and stronger than most. Can you fight?"
She grinned wickedly at him, and something went all weak inside Jon-Tom. "I have
eleven brothers and sisters, Mr. Clothahump, and I'm the second youngest. The
only reason I'm on the cheerleading squad is because they don't let women play
on the football team. Not at the university level, anyhow. I grew up with a
switchblade in my boot."
"I am not familiar with the weapon," replied a pleased Clothahump, "but I
believe we can arm you adequately."
Talea had stifled her amusement and had walked over to gaze appraisingly up at
the new arrival. "You're the biggest woman I've ever seen."
"I'm tall even for back home," said Quintera. "It's been a drawback sometimes,
except in sports." She smiled dazzlingly down at Talea and extended a hand. "Do
you shake hands here?"
"We do." Talea reached out hesitantly.
"Bueno. I'd like for us to be friends."
"I think I'd like that too." The two women shook, each taking the measure of the
other without conceding anything.
"It's just like I've always dreamed," Quintera murmured, eyes shining.
"You mean you're not upset?" Jon-Tom gaped at her.
"Oh, maybe a little."
Pog grumbled steadily as he began cleaning up the debris created by the
explosive collapse of the interdimensional vortex.
"But I've always wanted to be the heroine in shining armor, ever since I was a
little girl," Quintera continued.
"No need to worry, then," said Jon-Tom firmly. "I've learned quite a bit since
I've been here. I'll make sure no harm comes to you."
"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied gaily.
Pog appeared with an armful of old weapons. "Got 'em since ya left," he told the
curious Jon-Tom. "Boss thought it'd be a good idea t'have a few lizard-stickers
around in case his magic really got rusty."
Flores Quintera immediately knelt over the pile of destruction and began sorting
through it with something other than doll-like enthusiasm. "Hoy, but I'm looking
forward to this."
"It could be very dangerous." Jon-Tom had moved to stand protectively close to
her.
"Well, of course it could, from what Clothaheemp... Clothahump tells me... watch
your foot there, that ax is sharp." He took a couple of steps backward. "It
wouldn't be any fun if it didn't have any danger," she informed him, as though
addressing a complete fool.
"Oh, this looks nice," she said brightly, hefting a saw-edged short sword. "Can
I have this one?" It was designed for someone Mudge's size. In her lithe hands
it looked like a long, thick dagger.
She moved as if to put it in her belt, became aware she wasn't wearing one.
"I can't go marching around in this," she muttered.
"Oh God!" Mudge threw up his paws and spun away. "Not again. Please, I can't go
back to Lynchbany and go through this again."
"Never mind." Talea was studying the towering female form. "If the wizard can
conjure up some material, I think the two of us can make you something, Flores."
"Call me Flor, please."
"I don't know about conjuring," said Clothahump carefully, "but there are stores
in the back rooms of the Tree. Pog will show you where."
"O' course he will," snorted the bat under his breath. "Don't he always?"
The two young women vanished with the bat into yet another section of the
seemingly endless interior of the tree.
"I 'ave to 'and it t' you, mate." Mudge smacked Jon-Tom's back with a friendly
whack from one furry paw and leered up at him. "First you make friends with
Talea and now you materialize this black-maned gable o' gorgeousness. Would that
I were up t' such, wot?"
"I'd rather have switched places with an engineer," Jon-Tom mumbled.
He considered Flor Quintera. Her personality somehow did not seem to match his
imagining of same. "This new lady, Flor. I've seen her a lot, Mudge, but I'd
always imagined her to be somewhat more, well, vulnerable."
" 'Er? Vulnerable? Kiss me bum, mate, but she seems as vulnerable as an ocelot
with six arms."
"I know," said Jon-Tom sadly.
Mudge was looking at the doorway through which the women had disappeared. "
'Crikey but I won't mind unvulnerablin' 'er. It'd be like climbin' a bloomin'
mountain. I always did 'ave a 'ankerin' t' go explorin' through the peaks and
valleys of a challengin' range, wot." He moved away from the distraught Jon-Tom,
chuckling lasciviously.
Jon-Tom shuffled across to the workbench. Clothahump sat there, inspecting his
shattered apparatus and trying to locate intact bits and pieces with which to
work.
"I'm really sorry, sir," he said a little dazedly. "I tried my best."
"I know you did, boy. It is not your fault." Clothahump patted Jon-Tom's leg
reassuringly. "Rare is the man, wizard, warrior, or worker, who can always think
with his brains instead of his balls. Not to worry. What is done is done, and we
must make the best of it. At least we have added another dedicated fighter and
believer to our ranks. And we still have you and your unpredictable but
undeniably powerful spellsinger's abilities, and something more."