“I don’t care what anyone says. It’s not like flying. It’s like—”
Before Sorbl had a chance to explain what it was like, a by now familiar snap took place somewhere in the vicinity of Jon-Tom’s optic nerves. His fins were gone and he was standing, as before, on the floor of Dormas’s stall. The hinny blinked at him, then at Clothahump. Mudge stumbled but caught himself before he fell. Sorbl was not so fortunate. He’d been racing wildly through the water when the perturbation ceased and had crashed headfirst into the wall. Now he sat on the floor, his great golden eyes half closed, holding the top of his head with the tips of both wings. But he was smiling through the pain. He had wings again, and the only water in sight occupied the lower portion of Donnas’s drink-big basin.
“I warned you,” said Clothahump evenly. “These perturbations can be dangerous even when they do not become permanent. During a change it is important not to make any sudden moves or take any risks. I think you will all agree that the reason for demonstrating such caution is self-explanatory.” He gestured to where Sorbl was climbing unsteadily to his feet. “Thank you for the example, famulus.”
“You can take your example,” Sorbl started to say, but wisely chose not to finish the suggestion.
“We have been further enlightened, and everything is settled,” the wizard concluded. He extended a thick hand. Donnas nudged it, and the bargain was sealed.
“Tomorrow morning, early,” she reminded them. “Where’re you staying?”
Clothahump gave her the name of the inn. “We will want to pack and be on our way immediately after breakfast.”
“Suits me fine, hard-shell.”
“I am looking forward to a fruitful collaboration and the eventual success of our mutual enterprise.”
“And I’m looking forward to using the John,” she replied. “So if you boys will excuse me?” She turned and moved toward a curtained partition near the back of the room.
Thus dismissed, they left to return to their own accommodations, to prepare themselves for the long, difficult climb that would begin when they bade farewell to Ospenspri on the morrow. By now the descriptions of the city’s saviors had been widely circulated among the citizenry, and they found that they were the center of polite attention as they strolled up the busy streets.
Most of it was focused on Clothahump, whose shell seemed to swell as he soaked up the stares and the occasional mild applause. The wizard wasn’t one to shrink from the opportunity to bask in the glow of his own radiance. Sorbl drifted along overhead, flying a straighter course than usual, sobered by his recent brief incarnation as a subsurface water dweller. So Mudge was able to sidle up close to Jon-Tom to chat without fear of being overheard.
“Tell me true, mate; wot do you think our chances are?”
“Chances of wot—I mean, of what, Mudge?”
“Don’t play games with me, lad. We’ve been through too much together. You know wot I means. Our chances o’ goosin’ this perbabutater, or wotever it turns out to be, back to where it belongs?”
“According to Clothahump it will leave of its own accord once the restraints restricting its movement have been removed. The danger we face is from whoever is keeping it trapped in our world. Since I’ve no idea what we’re up against there, I can’t very well tell you what the odds are of our defeating it.”
Mudge looked crestfallen. “I can always depend on you for encouragement and succor, mate.”
“We’ll make out all right, Mudge. We always have.”
“That’s wot worries me. I keep worryin’ that the police are goin’ to catch up with me one o’ these days. Or an old lover. Or someone who lost to me at cards. But the thing I worry most about catchin’ up with old Mudge is the bloody law o’ averages, and I fear that on this trip it may be dogging me tail a mite too near for comfort.”
“Come on. Where’s the optimistic, always cheerful Mudge I know best?”
“Back down the road to Lynchbany about a hundred leagues or so.”
“Consider this: On our previous journeys we’ve had to deal with whatever danger threatened us by ourselves. Clothahump’s with us this time. Between his knowledge and my spellsinging we can handle anything that’s thrown against us.”
“Some’ow that don’t inspire me confidence, mate.” Mudge was silent for a long moment, then jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. “Wot about our ladyship back there? She appears to ‘ave as strong a back as she does a tongue, but she’s gettin’ on in years. We’ll find ourselves in a fine pickle if the old tart ups and quits on us in the middle o’ the back o’ beyond. I’m not one for haulin’ a pile o’ supplies up a steep grade.”
“Dormas will be fine. And we’re all getting on in years, Mudge.” Jon-Tom spoke from the rarefied heights of one who has yet to turn twenty-five. “I’ve found that this world tends to age you rapidly.”
“It does if you lead the kind o’ life we’ve led this past year or so,” Mudge readily agreed. “I expect you’re right about the old darlin’, but I can’t ‘elp wishin’ we ‘ad a bit more o’ the mundane ‘elp o’ extra arms and fighters. Pity you can’t run out and find that dragon friend o’ yours.”
“What, Falameezar? The last time I saw him he was swimming steadily southward from Quasequa. You know how far that is from here. And he wouldn’t do too well up in the Plateau country. He likes warm water and warmer air, and from what Clothahump’s told me of where we’re headed, we’re going to find precious little of either.”
“Cold won’t bother me. We otters are as at ‘ome in cold temperatures as hot. ‘Tis you I worry about, lad.”
“Why, Mudge? I appreciate the concern.”
“Concern, ‘ell. If your buns freeze to the ground, that’s one less sword arm I’ve got standin’ at my side, not to mention the loss o’ your spellsingin’, which some’ow does seem to work from time to time. You ‘aven’t a bit o’ decent fur on you to protect you from the cold.”
Jon-Tom stared straight ahead. “I’ll be okay as long as we beat the onset of winter in the mountains.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then you can haul my frozen carcass back here, dump it in a hundred-gallon martini, and drink to my demise. You worry too much. I feel as strong as an ox.”
“Aye, and with a brain to match. I wish I were feelin’ as well meself.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m just not feelin’ meself is all.”
“It couldn’t have anything to do with your life-style by any chance?”
“I admit that ‘as occurred to me, mate. So I’ve decided to cut down on wenchin’, eatin’, and drinkin’.”
“Your timing’s good. You won’t have the chance to indulge to excess on any of those on this trip.”
“Aye, that’s me point. That’s why I don’t feel well. Because I’m goin’ to ‘ave to cut down on wenchin’, and eatin’—”
“And drinking,” Jon-Tom finished for him, shaking his head. “And I thought there might be something seriously wrong with you.” Disgusted, he increased his stride.
“Why, mate,” Mudge asked, looking honestly puzzled as he hurried to keep up with his tall friend, “wot could be worse than that?”
“Than what?” Jon-Tom snapped at him.
“Than moderation o’ course.”
VI
True to her word, Dormas not only kept up with them as they left Ospenspri behind the following morning but, despite her heavy load, was impatient to take the lead. So frequently did she make the request that Clothahump had to remind her of his own advanced age and of the fact that two legs, no matter how strong, could never keep pace with four.
Jon-Tom was sure she was showing what she could do if she wanted to, in order to establish herself as a qualified member of the expedition right from the start. In any case, after the first long, hard day of walking, there were no more comments about her age or hauling ability from Mudge or anyone else. Jon-Tom recalled her initial reaction when they’d finished loading her outside the inn.