"What about the previous battle, and the one before that, and the thirty-fifth interregnum, which the histories say was such a Plated fiasco, and all the battles and fighting back to the beginning of the Gate's foundations?"
"All true," Clothahump admitted. "In all that time they have not so much as topped the Gate. But I fear this time will be far different. Different from anything a warmlander can imagine."
Talea leaned forward in the chair. "Why?"
"Because a new element has been introduced into the equation, my dear ignorant youngling. A profound stress presses dangerously on the fabric of fate. The balance between the Plated Folk and the warmlander has been seriously altered. I have sensed this, have felt it, for many months now, though I could not connect my unease directly to the Plated Ones. Now I have done that, and the nature of the threat at once becomes clear and thrice magnified.
"Hence my desperate casting for one who could divine and perhaps affect this alteration. You, Jon-Tom, and now you, my dear," and he nodded toward a watchful Flores Quintera.
She shook black strands from her face, clasped both arms around her knees as she stared raptly at him.
"Ahhh, I can't believe it, guv'nor," Mudge said with a disdainful sniff. "The Plated Folk 'ave never made it t' the top o' the Gate as you say. If they did, why, we'd annihilate 'em there at our leisure."
"The assurance of the young," murmured Clothahump, but he let the otter have his say.
" 'Tis only because the warmlander fighters o' the past wanted some decent competition that they sallied out from behind the Gate t' meet the Plated Folk in the Pass, or there'd o' been even more unequal combat than history tells us of. I'm surprised they keep a-tryin'."
"Oh, they will keep 'a-tryin', my fuzzy friend, until they are completely obliterated, or we are."
"And you're so sure this great unknown whateveritis that you know nothin' about 'as given those smelly monstrosities an edge they've never 'ad before?"
"I am afraid that is so," said the wizard solemnly. "Yet I am admittedly no more clear as to the nature of that fresh evil now than I was before. I know only that it exists, and that it must be prepared for if not destroyed." He shook a warning finger at Talea.
"And that, my dear, raises the other important advantage the Plated Folk have, one which must immediately be countered. We of the warmlands are divided and independent, while the Plated Folk possess a unity of purpose under their ultimate leader. They have the strength of central organization, which is not magical in nature but deadly dangerous nonetheless."
"That still hasn't kept them from a thousand years of getting the shit kicked out of their common unity," she replied, unperturbed.
"True enough, but this time... this time I fear a terrible disaster. A disaster made worse by the centuries of complacency you have just demonstrated, my dear. A disaster that threatens to break the boundaries of time and space and spread to all continuui.
"I fear if this threat is not contained, we face not a losing fight, my friends. We face Armageddon."
XII
It was silent within the Tree for a while. Finally Talea asked, "What word then has come out of the Greendowns to you, honorable magician?" Clothahump's warning had quieted even her usually irrepressible bravado.
"From what I have sensed," he began solemnly, "Skrritch the Eighteenth, Supreme Ruler of Cugluch, Cokmetch, Cot-a-Kruln, and of all the far reaches and lands of the Greendowns, Commander of all Plated Folk and heir to their allegiance, has called upon that allegiance. They have been building their armies for years. That and this new evil magic they have acquired has convinced them that this time they cannot fail to conquer. That self-confidence, that terrible feeling of surety, is what came through to my mind more powerfully than anything else."
"And you learned nothing more about this new magic," said Jon-Tom.
"Only one thing, my boy. That Eejakrat, master sorcerer among the Plated Ones, is behind it. That is something we could have naturally guessed, for he has been behind most of the exceptional awfulness that rumor occasionally carries to us from out of the Greendowns.
"Do not underestimate these opponents set before us, Jon-Tom." He gestured at the indifferent Talea and Mudge. "Your friends talk like cubs, through no fault of their own." He moved closer to the two tall humans.
"Let me tell you, the Plated Folk are not like us. They would as soon cut up one of us to see what's inside as we would a tree. No, I modify that. We would have more concern and respect for the tree."
"You don't have to go into details," Jon-Tom told him. "I believe you. But what can we do from here?" He flicked casual fingers across the duar. "This magic that seems to be in my music is new to me, and I can't control it very well. I don't know what my limits may be. If you can't do anything, I don't see how an ignorant novice like myself could."
"Tut, my boy, your approach is different from mine, the magic words you employ are new and unique. You may be of some use when least you expect it. Both you and your companion," he indicated the attentive Flor, "are impressive specimens. There will be times when I may be required to impress the reluctant or the doubtful."
"We can fight, too," she said readily, eyes sparkling with uncharacteristic bloodthirstiness in that sensual but childlike face.
"Restrain yourself, my dear," the wizard advised her with a fatherly smile. "There will likely be ample opportunity for slaughter. But first... you are quite right, Jon-Tom, in saying that there is little we can do here. We must begin to mobilize the warmlanders, to assuage their doubts and disbelief. They must prepare for the coming attack. A letter or two will not convince. Therefore we must carry the alarm in person."
"The 'ell you say," Mudge sputtered. "I'm not trippin' off t' the ends o' the earth on some 'alf-cocked crusade."
"Nor am I." Talea rose and let her left hand drop casually to the dagger at her hip. "We've our own personal business to attend to and care for."
"Children," Clothahump half whispered. Then, more audibly, "What business might that be? The business of being chased and hunted by the police of the Twelve Morgray Counties? The business of thievery and petty con schemes? I offer you instead the chance to embark upon a far grander and nobler business. One that is vital to the future of not one but two worlds. One in which all who participate will assuredly go down in the memories of all those who sing songs, for twice ten thousand years of legend!"
"Sorry," said Talea. "Not interested."
"Nor me, guv'nor," Mudge added.
"Also," said Clothahump with a tired sigh, "I will make it worth your while."
"Cor, now that be more like it, Your Imponderableness." Mudge's attitude changed radically. "Exactly 'ow worth our whiles did you 'ave in mind?"
"Sufficiently," said the wizard. "You have my word on it."
"Now I don't know as that's exactly..." Mudge's sentence floundered like a shark in a salt lake as he detected something new and dangerous and very unsenile in the wizard's expression. "Wot I mean to say, sor, is that naturally that's good enough for us. The word o' a great sorcerer like yourself, I mean." He looked anxiously at Talea. "Ain't it, luv?"
"I suppose so," she said carefully. "But why us? If you're going to need an honor guard, or body guard, or whatever, why not seek out some more amenable to your crazy notions?"
Clothahump replied instantly. "Because you two are already here, have already been exposed to my crazy notions, are familiar with the histories of these two," and he indicated Flor and Jon-Tom, "and because I have no more time to waste with others, if we are to make haste toward distant Polastrindu."
"Now, guv'nor," said Mudge reluctantly, "I've agreed I 'ave, and I'll stick by me word, but Polastrindu? You want that we should go... do you know 'ow far, meaning no disrespect, that be, sor?"
"Quite precisely, my good otter."
"It'd take months!" shouted an exasperated Talea.
"Yes it would... if we were to travel overland. But I am not so foolish or so young as to consider such a cross-co
untry hike. We must make speed, for while I know what is going to happen I do not know when; consequently I am ignorant of how much time we may have left to prepare. In such circumstances it is best to be stingy with what we may not possess.
"We shall not trudge overland but instead will make our way up the River Tailaroam."
"Up the river?" said Talea, eyebrows raised.
"There are ways of traveling against the current."
"To a certain point, Your Wonderness." Mudge looked skeptical. "But what 'appens when we reach the rapids o' Duggakurra? And I've 'eard many a tale o' the dangers the deep parts o' the river possess."
"All obstacles can be surmounted." Clothahump spoke with confidence if not assurance. "They matter not. Obstacle or no, we must hurry on."
"I think I'd rather go by land after all," said Talea.
"I am sorry, my dear. Tailaroam's secrets might be better concealed, but it will be the cleaner and faster route."
"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "You'd be right at home in the water if we had any trouble."
"I have not spent more than occasional recreational time in the water for some years, my dear. While I may be physiologically adapted to an aquatic life, my preferences are for breathing and living in air. As just one example, scrolls do not hold up well at all beneath the water.
"Furthermore, we have now an excellent means for making our way to the river."
"The L'borean riding snake." Talea nodded thoughtfully. "Why not take it all the way to Polastrindu?"
"Because the river will be as steady and much faster. Perhaps our young friend Jon-Tom can conjure up an equally efficient form of water travel."
"Conjure up?" The query came from Flores Quintera, and she looked sideways at Jon-Tom. "You mean, like magic?"
"Yes, like magic." He endeavored to stand a little straighter as he held out the duar. "Clothahump was casting about for an otherworldly magician to assist him with his troubles and he got me. It turns out that my singing, coupled with my playing of this instrument, coupled with something--I don't know what--gives me the ability to work magic here."
"That's very impressive," she said in a voice that lit a fire high above his boots.
"Yes, it would be, except that it's kind of a shotgun effect. I fire off a song and never manage to hit exactly what I'm aiming at. I was trying for an old Dodge Charger and instead materialized the grandfather of all pythons. It turned out to be tamed to riding, though." He smiled at her. "No need to worry about it."
"I'm not worried," she replied excitedly. "I love snakes. Where is it? It's really big enough to ride?" She was heading for the door at a respectable jog.
Mudge was whispering to him. "Now you'll 'ave to do better than that, mate. That's no ordinary maiden you've brought t' yourself. Now if I were you..."
But Jon-Tom didn't hear the rest because he was hurrying after her. Clothahump watched them, frowning.
"I must make ready. Pog!" the wizard yelled.
"Here, Master." The bat moved tiredly to hover over the workbench, knowing what would be expected of him. Together they began assembling several large piles of potions and powders: a traveling sorcerer's work kit.
"Now 'ow did we get ourselves roped into this, luv?"
Talea looked across at the otter. "Don't trouble your furry noggin about it. We're committed. You agreed yourself."
"Yes, yes," he said softly, looking back to see if Clothahump was paying them any attention. He was not. "But it were only to keep the old bugger-nut from puttin' a spell on me. Then I'd never 'ave a chance to slip away when the proper time comes."
"It's better that we go," she told him. "I've been thinking, Mudge. If a wizard as great as Clothahump says that the danger is so great, then we must help fight it if we can."
"I don't think you follow me thoughts, luv. This wizard Clothahump, 'e's a brilliant one, all right. But 'e 'as lapses, if you know wot I mean." He tapped his head with one furry fist.
"You're saying he's senile."
"Not all the time, no. But 'e is two 'undred and ought odd years old. Even for a wizard o' the hard-shell, that's gettin' on a bit, wot? I'm a thinkin' 'e's overexaggeratin' this 'ere Plated danger."
"Sorry, Mudge, I don't agree with you. I've seen and heard enough to convince me he's more sane than senile. Besides," she added with a disdainful air, "he was right in that we have no immediate prospects. In fact, it would do us good to get out of this area for a while. He'll pay us to do that. So we're doing right if he's mad and right if he's not."
Mudge looked resigned. "Maybe so, luv. Maybe so. Though I wish 'e'd been a bit more specific in spellin' out just wot 'e meant by 'worth our while.'"
"What do you mean?"
"Sorcerers 'ave the use o' words that you and I ain't privy to, luv. So it stands t' reason they could be more subtle when it comes t' the employin' o' more familiar ones."
"Mudge! Are you saying he lied to us?"
"No. 'E couldn't do that, not and keep 'is wizardry powers. But there be direct truth and then there be spiral truth, as me sainted mother used t' tell me."
"You had a mother?"
He took a playful swipe at her with a paw and she stepped lithely out of reach. "I always did think a lot o' you, luv. If you only 'ad a bit more body fur, at least on your chest, say."
"No thanks." She edged toward the door. "We'd better go see how the others are making out."
They started down the hallway. "I'm not worried much about the giantess," Mudge was saying, "but our friend Jon-Tom still displays pangs o' loneliness. I worry that the appearance o' the girl from 'is 'ome may do him more 'arm than good, seein' as how besotted 'e is on her."
"Besotted?" Talea studied the walls. "You think so?"
They had almost reached the doorway. " 'Tis in the lad's voice, in 'is manner and look. I've dodged traps that were better 'idden. But I don't think 'e'll 'ave much luck with this one. She's cheery enough, but I 'ave a 'unch 'er true love's reserved for 'er new sword. She strikes me a proper mate for a wolverine, not our Jon-Tom."
"I don't think he's besotted," Talea murmured. "A boyish attraction, certainly."
"And that be somethin' else. 'E may act boyish, but in a fight 'e's all right. Remember 'is magic, and they also say that those who can draw the gneechees in the numbers 'e can may 'ave greater powers locked within 'em than even they can imagine."
"He's already admitted he doesn't know much about his own magical capabilities," she replied. "I don't think they're so much greater than what we've seen."
"We're likely to find out on this bug-brained journey."
The riding snake would have carried the extra load with ease, but they had only four saddles. They were fashioned of the finest hides and specially worked in far-off Malderpot by the warmland's most skilled leatherworkers.
"Two of us will have to double up," said Clothahump, voicing the obvious as the last of their baggage was seeured to the snake's lengthy back. "At least Pog does not present a problem."
"Thank the Design!" agreed the bat, fluttering overhead and adjusting his body and back pouches. "It going to be hard enough ta slow down ta keep up wid ya."
"Jon-Tom and Flor must have saddles to themselves," the wizard pointed out, "they being simultaneously the largest and least experienced of us. Perhaps the two of you... ?" He gestured at Talea and Mudge.
"Oh no." She shook her head negatively. "I'm not riding with him." Mudge looked hurt.
"In that case," Clothahump bowed as best he could, considering his short legs and weighty front, "you may join me."
"Fine."
"Cor, now, Talea me luv...."
"Get to your own saddle, you mange-mouthed mucker. D'you honestly think I'd let you sit that close to me?"
"Talea sweets, you 'ave poor Mudge all wrong."
"Sure I do." She mounted the lead saddle, spoke down to Clothahump. "You can ride behind me. I trust your hands, and we've a shell between us."
"I can assure you, my dear," said the wizard, soun
ding slightly offended, "that I have no intentions in the slightest of..."
"Yeah, that's what they all say." She slipped both boots into her stirrups. "But come on and get aboard."
Clothahump struggled with the high seat, puffing alarmingly. His short legs and great weight rendered mounting all but impossible. Jon-Tom moved forward and got his arms and shoulders beneath the considerable bulk. It was against Clothahump's principles (not to mention his ego) to use magic to lift himself into the saddle. With Jon-Tom pushing and Talea pulling he managed to make it with a minimum of lost pride.
When they were all seated Talea tugged lightly back on the reins. Having slept all night and morning as was the habit of its kind, the snake came awake slowly. She let the reins hang loose and the snake started to move forward.
A laugh of surprise and delight came from the third saddle, where Flores Quintera sat. She was clearly enjoying the new sensation provided by an extraordinary means of locomotion. Looking back over her shoulder, she flashed a dazzling smile at Jon-Tom.
"What a wonderful way to travel! Que magnifico! You can see everything without having your behind battered." She faced forward again and placed both hands on the pommel of the saddle.
"Giddy up!" Her heels kicked girlishly at the scaly sides. The snake did not notice the minuscule tapping on its flanks, but paid attention only to the steering tugs at its sensitive ears.
"Any particular route you'd like me to follow?" Talea inquired of her fellow saddle-mate.
"The shortest one to the Tailaroam," replied Clothahump. "There we will hire passage."
"What about building our own raft?"
"Impossible. Tacking upstream against the current would be difficult. At the Duggakurra rapids it would become impossible. We must engage professionals with the know-how and muscle to fight such obstacles. I think we should turn slightly to the left here, my dear."
Talea pulled gently on the reins, and the snake obediently altered its slither. "That'll take us a day longer, if I remember the land right. It's been a long time since I've been as far south as the river. Too many nasty types hole out there."