being dragged from their burrows and dens to confront only the ravings of a
senile fraud." He put up a mollifying hand. "Tut, tut, sir. Think a moment.
Surely you yourself would want some assurance if the positions were reversed?"
"That seems reasonable enough. The wizards of the greater territories are a
supercilious bunch. They must be made to understand the danger. I will give you
such information as will be sufficient to induce them to attend the audience."
He hunted through his plastron.
"Here, then." He removed a handful of tiny scrolls. "These are curse-sealed."
"Yes, I see the mark," said the raccoon as he carefully accepted them.
"Not that it would matter if you saw their contents," Clothahump told him. "All
the world will know soon enough. But there are certain snobbish types who would
resent the intrusion of mere laymen into sorceral affairs."
"Rest assured they will not be tampered with," said the Major with a fatuous
smile. He placed the scrolls in his side purse.
"Now to less awesome matters. It is growing late. Surely you must be tired from
the day's work"--he eyed the unfortunate beaver sharply--"and from your
extensive journeying. Also, it would help settle the populace if you would
retire."
Caz brushed daintily at his lace cuffs and silk stockings. "I for one could
certainly use a bath. Not to mention something more elaborate than camp cuisine.
Ah, for an epinard and haricot salad with spiced legume dressing!"
"A gourmet." Major Ortrum looked with new interest at the rabbit. "You will
pardon my saying so, sir, but I do not understand you falling in with this kind
of company."
"I find my present company quite satisfactory, thank you." Caz smiled thinly.
Ortrum shrugged. "Life often places us in the most unexpected situations." It
was clear he fancied himself something of a philosopher. "We will find you your
bath, sir, and lodgings for you all."
The beaver leaned close, still stiffly at attention, and jerked his head toward
the dragon. "Lodgings, thir? Even for that?"
"Yes, what about Falameezar?" Jon-Tom asked. "Comrades are not to be separated."
The dragon beamed.
"No trouble whatsoever," the raccoon assured him. He pointed behind them. "That
third large structure there, behind you and to your left, is a military barracks
and storehouse. At present it is occupied only by a small maintenance crew, who
will be moved. Should your substantial reptilian friend desire to return to his
natural aquatic habitat, whether permanently or merely for a washup, he will
find the river close at hand. And there is ample room inside for all of you, so
you will be able to stay together.
"If you will please follow me?" He returned to his chair. Curses and urgings
came from the driver. Though high-pitched and squeaky, they were notable for
their exceptional vileness.
Divide and promote a selected few, Jon-Tom thought angrily. That's how to keep
the oppressed in line. The treatment of the smaller rodents was a source of
continuing unease to him.
They followed the chair to the entrance of a huge wooden building. A pair of
towering sliding doors were more than large enough to admit Falameezar.
"This building is often used to house large engines," Ortrum explained. "Hence
the need for the oversized portal.
"I will leave you here now. I must return to make my report and set in motion
the requests you have made. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask any of
the staff inside for assistance. I welcome you as guests of the city."
He turned, and the chair shuffled off under the straining muscles of the
mice....
XIX
Their quarters were Spartan but satisfactory. Falameezar declared himself
content with the straw carried in from the stables, the consistency being drier
but otherwise akin to the familiar mud of his favorite riverbottom.
"There are some ramifications of communal government I would like to discuss
with you, comrade," he said to Jon-Tom as the youth was walking toward his own
quarters.
"Later, Falameezar." He yawned, nearly exhausted by the hectic day. It had
turned dark outside. The windows of Polastrindu had come alive like a swarm of
fireflies.
Also, he was plain tired of keeping the dragon's insatiable curiosity sated. His
limited store of knowledge about the workings of Marxism was beginning to get a
little threadbare, and he was growing increasingly worried about making a
dangerous philosophical mistake. Falameezar's friendship was predicated on a
supposedly mutual affinity for a particular socioeconomic system. A devastating
temper lay just beneath those iridescent scales.
A hand clutched his arm and he jumped. It was only Mudge.
"Take 'er a mite easier, mate. Yer more knotted up than a virgin's girdle. We've
made it 'ere, an' that were the important thing, wot? Tonight we'll go out an'
find ourselves a couple of less argumentative ladies than the pair we're
travelin' with and 'ave ourselves a time of it, right?"
Jon-Tom firmly disengaged his arm. "Oh no. I remember the last tavern you took
me into. You nearly got my belly opened. Not to mention abandoning me in
Thieves' Hall."
"Now that were Talea's doin', not mine."
"What was my doing?" The redhead had appeared in the doorway ahead.
"Why nothin', luv," said Mudge innocently.
She eyed him a moment longer, then decided to ignore him. "Anybody noticed that
there are dormitories at each end of this mausoleum? They're full of soldiers.
We've been given the officer's quarters, but I don't like being surrounded by
the others."
"Afraid of being murdered in your sleep?" Flor had joined the discussion.
Talea glared at her. "It's been known to happen, usually to those who think
their beds safe. Besides, that Major Maskface said there was normally only a
'maintenance crew' living here. Then where'd all the bully-boys come from, and
why?"
"How many are there?" inquired Caz.
"At least fifty at each end. Possums, weasels, humans; a nice mix. They looked
awfully alert for a bunch of broom-pushers. Well armed, too."
"It's only natural for the city to be nervous at our presence," Jon-Tom argued.
"A few guards are understandable."
"A few yes, a hundred I'm not so sure."
"Are you saying we're prisoners?" said Flor.
"I'm saying I don't sleep well knowing that over a hundred 'nervous' and
well-armed soldiers are sleeping on either side of me."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Mudge murmured.
She looked at him sharply. "What? What did you say, you fuzz-faced little
prick?"
"That it wouldn't be the first time we've been surrounded, luv."
"Oh."
"There's one way to find out." Caz moved to the small door set in one of the
huge sliding panels hung from the west wall. He opened it and conversed with
someone unseen. Presently the beaver officer they'd first encountered outside
the city appeared. He looked unhappy, tried to avoid their stares.
"I underthand you would like an evening meal."
"That's right," said Caz.
"They will be brought in immediately. The betht the city can offer." He started
to leave. Caz restrained him.
"Just a moment. That's a very kind offer, but some of us would prefer to find
our own dinery." He picked absently at his tail, whiskers twitching. "That's all
right, isn't it?" He took a step toward the open door.
The officer reluctantly moved to block his path. "I'm truly thorry, thir." He
sounded as if he meant it. "But Major Ortrum gave thrict inthructions on how you
were to be quartered and fed. Your thafety ith of much conthern to the