guard. He was taller than Jon-Tom, and the insect shape
struggling in the three-armed grasp looked small in comparison.
The insect head of Talea's disguise had been ripped off.
Her red hair cascaded down to her shoulders. Two arms held
her firmly around neck and waist while the thud held a knife
over the hollow of her throat.
"Move and she dies," said the guard. He began to edge
toward the open doorway leading outside, keeping his back
hard against the wall.
"If he gives the alarm we're finished, mates," Mudge
whispered.
"Let's rush them," said Caz,,
"No!" Jon-Tom put an arm in front of the rabbit. "We
can't. He'll—"
Talea continued to struggle in the unrelenting grip. "Do
something, you idiots!"
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Seeing that no one was going to act and that she and her
captor were only a few yards from the doorway, she put both
feet on the floor and thrust convulsively upward. The knife
slid through her throat, emerging from the back of her neck.
Claret spurted across the stones.
Everyone was too stunned to scream. The guard cursed, let
the limp body fall as he bolted for the exit. Pog was waiting
for him with a knife that went straight between the compound
eyes. The guard never saw him. He'd had eyes only for his
grounded opponents and hadn't noticed the bat hanging above
the portal.
Caz and Mudge finished the giant quickly. Jon-Tom bent
over the tiny, curled shape of Talea. The blood flowed freely
but was already beginning to slow. Major arteries and veins
had been severed.
He looked back at Clothahump but the wizard could only
shake his head. "No time, no time, my boy. It's a long spell.
Not enough time."
Weak life looked out from those sea-green eyes. Her mouth
twisted into a grimace and her voice was faint. "One of.. .these
days you're going to have to make... the important decisions
without help, Jon-Tom." She smiled faintly. "You know... I
think I love you...."
The tears came in a flood, uncontrollable. "It's not fair,
Talea, Damn! It's not fair! You can't tell me something like
that and then leave me! You can't!"
But she died anyway.
He found he was shaking. Caz grabbed his shoulders,
shook him until it stopped.
"No time for that now, my friend. I'm sorry, too, but this
isn't the place.for being sorry."
"No, it is not." Clothahump was examining the body.
"She'll stop bleeding soon. When she does, clean her chitin
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THE HOUR Of THE GATE
and put her head back on. It's over in the corner there, where
the guard threw it."
Jon-Tom stood, looked dazedly down at the wizard. "You
can't...?"
"I'll explain later, Jon-Tom. But all may not be lost."
"What the hell do you mean, 'all may not be lost'?" His
voice rose angrily. "She's dead, you senile old..."
Clothahump let him finish, then said, "I forgive the names
because I understand the motivation and the source. Know
only that sometimes even death can be forgiven, Jon-Tom."
"Are you saying you can bring her back?"
"I don't know. But if we don't get out of here quickly
we'll never have the chance to find out."
Hor and Bribbens slipped the insect head back into place
over the pale face and flowing hair. Jon-Tom wouldn't help.
"Now everyone look and act official," Clothahump urged
them. "We're taking a dead prisoner out for burial."
Bribbens, Mudge, Caz, and Hor supported Talea's body
while Pog flew formation overhead and Jon-Tom and Clothahump
marched importantly in front. A few passing Plated Folk
glanced at them when they emerged from the doorway, but no
one dared question them.
One of the benefits of infiltrating a totalitarian society,
Jon-Tom thought bitterly. Everyone's afraid to ask anything
of anyone who looks important.
They were on the main floor of the palace. It took them a
while to find an exit (they dared not ask directions), but
before long they were outside in the mist of the palace
square.
The sky was as gray and silent as ever and the humidity as
bad, but for all except the disconsolate Jon-Tom it was as
though they'd suddenly stepped out onto a warm beach
fronting the southern ocean.
"We have to find transport again," Clothahump was
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murmuring as they made their way with enforced slowness
across the square. "Soon someone will note either our ab-
sence or that of our belongings." He allowed himself a grim
chuckle.
"I would not care to be the prison commandant when
Eejakrat leams of our escape. They'll be after us soon
enough, but they should have a hell of a time locating us. We
blend in perfectly, and only a few have seen us. Nevertheless,
Eejakrat will do everything in his power to recapture us."
"Where can we go?" Mudge asked, shifting slightly under
the weight of the body. "To the north, back for Ironcloud?"
"No. That is where Eejakrat will expect us to go."
"Why would he suspect that?" asked Jon-Tom.
"Because I made it a point to give him sufficient hints to
that effect during our conversations," the wizard replied, "in
case the opportunity to flee arose."
"If he's as sly as you say, won't he suspect we're heading
in another direction?"
"Perhaps. But I do not believe he will think that we might
attempt to return home through the entire assembled army of
the Greendowns."
"Won't they be given the alarm about us also?"
"Of course. But militia do not display initiative. I think we
shall be able to slip through them."
That satisfied Jon-Tom, but Clothahump was left to muse
over what might have been. So close, they'd been so close!
And still they did not know what the dead mind was, or how
Eejakrat manipulated it. But while willing to take chances, he
was not quite as mad as Jon-Tom might have thought. I have
no death wish, young spellsinger, he thought as he regarded
the tall insect shape marching next to him. We tried as no
other mortals could try, and we failed. If fate wills that we are
to perish soon, it will be on the ramparts of the Jo-Troom
Gate confronting the foe, not in the jaws of Cugluch.
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Tm Horn Or THE GATE
Once among the milling, festering mob of city dwellers
they could relax a little. It took a while to locate an alley with
a delivery wagon and no curious onlookers. Clothahump
could not work the spell under the gaze of kibbitzers.
The long, narrow wagon was pulled by a single large
lizard. They waited. No one else entered the alley. Eventually
the driver emerged from the back entrance of a warren.
Clothahump confronted him and while the others kept watch,
hastily spelled the unfortunate driver under.
"Climb aboard then, citizens," the driver said obligingly
when the wizard had finished. They did so, carefully laying
Talea's body on the wagon bed between them.
They were two-thirds of the way to the Pass, the hustle of
Cugluch now largely behind them, when the watchful Jon-
Tom said cautiously to the driver, "You're not hypnotized,
are you? You never were under the spell."
The worker looked back down at him with unreadable
compound eyes as hands moved toward weapons. "No,
citizen. I have not been magicked, if that is what you mean.
Stay your hands." He gestured at the roadway they were
traveling. "It would do you only ill, for you are surrounded
by my people." Swords and knives remained reluctantly
sheathed.
"Where are you taking us, then?" Ror asked nervously.