knocked Flor unconscious. Jon-Tom and Caz had to help her across. Once past she
was able to stand by herself and inhale deep drafts of only partly tainted air.
"Mierda, what a smell!"
"It should be less overwhelming once we are inside the city gate." Clothahump
did not sound particularly apologetic. "There we will be away from the main
sewer outfalls."
A rattling warning fell on them as Pog dipped close. "Master, soldiers come from
da gate. Maybe dat overfly patrol wasn't so indifferent as it seemed. Maybe we
in for some trouble."
Clothahump waved him away as one might a large housefly. "Very good, Pog, but
you worry overmuch. I will deal with them."
It was a well armed if motley-looking knot of soldiers that soon came into view,
marching toward them. Between twenty and thirty, Jon-Tom guessed. He slipped his
club-staff from its lacings and leaned on it expectantly. Other hands drifted in
the vicinity of sheathed swords. Mudge made a show of inspecting his bow.
The troop was led by a heavily armored beaver, a thickset individual with a
no-nonsense gleam in his eyes. Catching sight of the column, sailors and
stevedores scattered for cover. While at first they had ignored the newcomers,
they now shied from them as if they carried plague.
Boots, sandals, and naked feet generated a small rumble of retreat as other
onlookers scurried for safety. Ten soldiers detached themselves with forced
casualness from the main body. They quick-marched to the left to get behind the
newcomers and cut off any possible retreat.
"That doesn't look promising." Jon-Tom's grip tightened on the staff as he
watched the maneuver.
"Easy, my friend." The imperturbable Caz stepped forward. "I will handle this."
"They would not dare to attack us," said an outraged Clothahump. "I am an
emissary to the Council of Wizards and as such my person is inviolable and
sacred."
"Don't tell me, good sir," said Caz, gesturing at the nearing troops. "Tell
them."
Now the walls had become menacing instead of beautiful. Their stone towers cast
threatening shadows over the travelers. From ships and other places of
concealment the mutterings of watchful sailors and merchants could be heard.
Finally the main body of soldiers drew up in a crescent facing them. Their
leader stepped forward, pushed his helmet back on his furry forehead with a
muscular paw, and studied them curiously. In addition to his chain mail, helmet,
and thicker steel plates protecting particularly vulnerable places there was an
unusual moon-shaped iron plate strapped to the thick, broad tail. It was studded
with sharp spikes and would make a devastating weapon if it came to
close-quarter fighting.
"Well," he said, speaking with a distinct lisp, "what have we here? Two gianth,
a tough-looking little female"--Talea spat at the ground--"a dithreputable otter
type, a fop, and an elderly gentleman of the amphibian perthuathion."
"Good sir." Caz bowed slightly. "We are travelers from downriver on a mission
that is of great importance to Polastrindu and the world."
"Thath motht interethting. Whom do you reprethent?"
"By and large we represent ourselves for now, primarily in the person of the
great wizard Clothahump," and he gestured toward the impatient turtle. "He
carries information vital to our survival that he must present to the city
council."
The beaver was casually twirling an ugly skull-splitter of a mace, indifferent
to where the spike-studded ball might land.
"Thath all very nice, but it remainth that you're not citithenth of thith city
or county. At leatht, I athum you are not. Unleth of courth you can produth your
identity chith."
"Identity chits?"
"Everyone who liveth in the county or thity of Polathrindu hath an identity
chith."
"Well, since we don't come from the county or city of Polastrindu, as you've
just been informed, obviously we don't have any such thing," Jon-Tom said in
exasperation.
"That doth not nethetherily follow," said the beaver. "We get many vithitoth.
They all have properly thtamped identity chith. To be freely admitted to the
thity all you have to do ith apply for and rethieve your proper chith." He
smiled around enormous teeth. "I will be happy to provide you with thom."
Jon-Tom relaxed a little. "Good. We'll need theven."
"You very funny, big man. Thinth you have thuch a good thenth of humor, for your
party it will cotht only"--the beaver performed some silent cogitation--"theven
hundred silver pietheth."
"Seven hundred...!" Clothahump sputtered all over the pavement. "That's
extortion! Outright robbery! I am insulted. I, the great and wise and knowing
Clothahump, have not been so outraged in a hundred years!"
"I believe that our leader," said Caz quietly, "is somewhat disinclined to pay.
Now if you will just convey word of our arrival to your superiors, I am sure
that when they know why we have come--"
"They won't hear why you have come," broke in the beaver, "until you pay up. And
if you don't pay up, they won't hear why you were overcome." He grinned again.
His huge teeth were badly stained by some dark brown liquid. "Actually, ith
eighty silver pietheth per party for identity cardth, but my men and I have to
make a living of thom kind, don't we? A tholdierth pay ith pretty poor."
There were angry murmurs of agreement from the troops standing behind him.
"We will depart peacefully then," said Caz.
"I don't think tho," said the beaver. The ten soldiers who had detached
themselves earlier now moved in tightly behind the travelers, blocking their
path. "I don't want you going around to the other gateth."
Flor whispered to Mudge, "Are all your cities so hospitable?"
Mudge shrugged. "Where there's wealth, luv, there's corruption. There's a lot of
wealth in Polastrindu, wot?" He eyed the soldiers nervously.
Some of them were already fingering swords and clubs in anticipation of a little
corrective head-bashing. They looked healthy and well fed, if not especially
hygienic.
" 'Ere now, your wizardship, why don't we just pay up? These blokes look as
though they'd rather 'ave themselves a good massacre than anythin' else. If we
wait much longer we won't 'ave ourselves much o' a choice."
"I will not pay." Clothahump obstinately adjusted his spectacles. "Besides, I
can't remember that asinine silver spell."
"You won't pay, eh?" The beaver waddled over until he was glaring eye to eye
with the turtle. "Tho you're a great withard, eh? Leth thee how much of a
withard you really are," and he flipped the mace around, snapped his wrist, and
struck Clothahump square on the beak.
The sorcerer let out a startled cry and sat down hard. "Why you impudent young
whelp!" He fumbled for his glasses, which had been knocked loose but not broken.
"I shall show you who is a wizard. I will disembowel you, I'll... !"
"Port armth!" the beaver barked. Instantly a cluster of spears and clubs was
pointed at the travelers. The officer said sourly, "I've had jutht about enough
of thith foolithneth. I don't know who you are, where you come from, or what
kind of game you're trying to play with me, but we don't take kindly to vagranth
here. Ith dragged off to the thellth you're to be, and methily, too, unleth you
come up with thorn cash."
There was stone wall to his right and sharp steel ahead and behind, but nothing
blocked Jon-Tom's path as he'd worked his way to the water's edge. He cupped his
hands and yelled desperately, "Falameezarrrr!"
"What, thereth more of you then?" The beaver's whiskers twitched as he turned to