Выбрать главу

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