“The tools of the trade,” the koala explained.
“I can see why you’d chose work as a bodyguard.” Mudge sniffed derisively. “Throwin’ runes ain’t much of a profession. Some would say ‘tis more in the nature of a con game.”
The koala stiffened slightly, and when he next spoke, there was an edge to his voice. “There are more charlatans than truth-speakers who throw, that much is true. I am no charlatan. Anyone can cast. It’s the reading that requires skill. I have practiced for many years, have thrown thousands of times. I was apprentice to Solace Longrush the quokka.”
“I know that name. I thought he was dead,” Clothahump murmured.
“He is. Died ten years ago. Was casting one day, saw his own death in the runes, gathered everything up, put his house in order, walked to the cemetery he’d chosen, and fell right over into an open grave. Damnedest thing you ever saw.” He jiggled the leather bag. Faint clinking noises could be heard as small objects within bounced oif one another. “His runes. He left them to me.”
“That’s why you’re so protective of your gear,” Jon-Tom said, and was rewarded with a nod. “I’ve never met a rune-caster before. What do you cast for?”
“Whether someone should make a left turn or go right, whether or not a marriage is likely to succeed, when and where to plant what kinds of crops, that sort of thing. Pays the bills.” He leaned forward. “But what Solace Longrush did that no other rune-caster could do, and what I’ve tried to learn from him, is how to predict the future.”
Mudge laughed without shame: a brisk, sharp, barking sound. Dormas let out a loud snort. Sorbl fought back a smile of his own.
“Told you that you wouldn’t believe me.” The koala did not appear miffed by their reaction. Undoubtedly he was used to skepticism.
As soon as Colin had made his confession Jon-Tom had turned to look at Clothahump. The wizard was neither laughing nor smiling. Instead he was studying their guest with utter seriousness.
“And how,” he inquired, “does practicing your true profession bring you to this isolated part of the world?”
“Like I said, I’ve been traveling for many, many months. What started me on my journey was a cast I was making for a local farmer. He wanted me to find the best place on his land to dig a new well. I had thrown six times and thought I had a pretty good spot picked out for him, but I pride myself on being thorough and giving value for money. So I threw a seventh and last time.” He swallowed. “Ten runes lined up in a pattern I’d never seen before. I gave the farmer his location and rushed off to the local Sorcerer’s Guild library, spent hours trying to find a schematic that resembled the pattern I’d thrown. Finally did.”
“And?” Jon-Tom prompted him anxiously, by now thoroughly engrossed in the koala’s tale.
“The pattern signified an imminent world change. But not an immediate one. The change indicated was the kind that takes place in stages, each one more severe than the next. It was also clear that if these gradual changes were not stopped, they were going to culminate in a final change of apocalyptic proportions.”
“The pattern did not by any chance happen to suggest the nature of this final change?” Clothahump asked him.
“I’m not sure. Patterns are precise, but reading is not an exact science. As near as I could tell, though, it had something to do with the size of the sun.”
“Size?” Mudge squeaked.
Colin nodded somberly. “The pattern suggested intensifying local changes, ending in an abrupt expansion of the sun to many times its present size. I think a change like that would make us long to stand above something as chilly as the savage’s fire.”
“Nova.” Jon-Tom squinted through the branches at the placid midday sun above. “A perturbation strong enough to affect the helium-fusion cycle. It would make the sun go nova. I wonder if the sun in my own world would be affected?”
“Wot’s all this rot?” Mudge muttered. “Wot’s a bloomin’ nova and wot’s it ‘ave to do with the sun, and wotever it is, we’ve only this chap’s word for it, anyways. And wot’s it got to do with the question?”
“That’s why I’m here. To see if I can’t prevent that cataclysmic change. The runes didn’t tell me how it could be done, but they showed me where it would have to be accomplished. I’m on my way there.” He mistook their silence for disbelief. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”
“On the contrary,” Clothahump told him quietly, “we believe you more man you believe yourself. Because, you see, the answer to our question is also the answer to yours. We are bent on the same task. By different methods we come to this place, intent upon achieving the same end.”
Colin regarded each of them in turn, silently, seeing the truth in their faces. “So that’s it. The runes were more thorough than I thought. I did not expect the help they predicted to appear so soon.”
“Now ‘old on a minimum, mate,” Mudge urged him. “If anyone’s goin’ to ‘elp anyone ‘ere, ‘tis you who are bound to ‘elp us.”
“It doesn’t matter, Mudge,” Jon-Tom told him irritably. “We’re all here for the same reason.”
“True.” The koala sounded disappointed. “The runes were thorough but not accurate. As I read them they spoke of aid in the form of an army of several thousand seasoned warriors.” He shook off his disappointment. “But if I’m to have the company of a quintet of oddities instead, so be it.”
Mudge made a sound low in his throat. “Just who are you callin’ an oddity, fat face?”
“Quiet, river rat.” Clothahump turned back to Colin. “Then your reading of the runes is not always precise?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s the nature of runes. You can’t make perfect predictions with imperfect materials, and there’s no such thing as a perfect rune. Half a year back I lost two months traveling in the wrong direction before I knew I was off on the wrong track.”
“That’s all right.” Jon-Tom was naturally sympathetic. “I’m a spellsinger myself, and there’ve been one or two occasions when the results of my spellsinging were other than what I intended.” He immediately turned a warning look on Mudge, but the otter’s thoughts were elsewhere, and he missed the opportunity to insert the expected sarcastic comment.
“We shall help one another,” Clothahump announced firmly. “Your company and what assistance you can provide will be welcome. I know what is causing these changes and approximately where it is located. By cooperating we may define our approach more accurately.”
It was clear that Colin was impressed. He glanced up at Jon-Tom. “Tell me, tall man, does he speak the truth?”
“Most of the time. This time.”
“Casting is something I have never practiced,” the wizard was saying, “because of its notorious inaccuracy. But it may be that you will have the chance to supplement our collective abilities when such aid is needed most. In any event, a strong sword arm is always welcome in such an enterprise as this. We will seek to resolve this danger together.”
“I’ll be glad of the company. We koalas are sociable types. Traveling solo hasn’t been easy.” He hesitated. “Not appearing to contradict you, old one, but by the reading, we haven’t much time left. We may not get there in time.”
“We may not get there at all,” Clothahump admitted, “but it is a waste of time to wonder about time. With due respect to your talent, where a perambulator is involved, time itself is mutable. We may have more time left to us than your reading would lead you to believe.”
“I hope you’re right and I’m wrong.”
Clothahump lifted his gaze past them, toward the lower slopes of the mountains that defined the northern horizon. “My greatest fear at this moment is that despite his madness, whoever has trapped the perambulator in this world is beginning to learn how to manipulate those perturbations.”