The saraband ceased in mid-leap and the otter gaped at him in the moonlight. “Can’t keep it? Wot the ‘ell are you sayin’, we can’t keep it? You want to haul it back through the cave so you can give it back to those two delightful blokes who were ready to sell us into slavery and kill you?”
“Of course not, but we can’t keep it. It’s too damn dangerous.”
“Oh matey-mine,” the otter moaned, “don’t you go all ethical on poor Mudge now. Not now p’ all times.” He picked up a bagful of white powder. “Do you know wot this ‘ere stuff is worth? There’s them in places like Snarken an’ Polastrindu that would pay through the nose for a pinch of it, so to speak. Weegee and me, we wouldn’t ‘ave to work another day in our lives.”
Jon-Tom was adamant. “I haven’t fought my way across this whole world and learned how to be a spellsinger so I could stoop to dealing drugs.”
“Fine! Let me stoop. I’m a ‘ell of a stooper. I’m the best damn stooper you ever saw. It ain’t entirely your decision to make anyways. This ain’t no kingdom an’ you ain’t no bleedin’ emperor.”
“I know that.”
“The rest of us ‘ave as much right to this booty as you do. We sure as ‘ell ‘ave gone through enough to earn it.”
“It’s not a question of who has the right, Mudge. It’s a question of what is right. The people of your world aren’t used to drugs of such potency.”
“ ‘Ow the ‘ell would you know? I could tell you stories.”
Jon-Tom tried a different tack. “Well, they’re not used to this type of drug.”
The otter let out a snort. “Stinger sweat is stinger sweat no matter wot world it comes from.”
“Mudge, it’s dangerous stuff. I don’t want any part of dealing it.”
“No problem, mate. I’ll take care o’ all of it.”
“Jon-Tom’s right, Mudge.”
The otter spun, stared at Weegee. “Wot do you mean ‘e’s right, luv? ‘E ain’t been right since ‘e slid out o’ “is mother’s womb, an’ I think ‘e’s gettin’ less right every day.”
She gestured at the suitcases. “If he says it’s dangerous, I’m inclined to agree with him. After all, this comes from his world, not ours.”
“But luv,” Mudge pleaded, “don’t you see wot this could mean to us?”
“I think I do, yes. Mudge, I haven’t led the kind of life you have.” She looked apologetically at Jon-Tom. “Not every otter is an incurable hedonist like my sweet Mudge. Some of us do have higher aspirations and a semblance of morality.” She stared hard at her lover. “Do you know what we are going to do with this otherworldly poison, sweetness?”
Mudge turned away from her, in obvious pain. “Don’t say it, luv. Please don’t say it. Can’t we keep one packet?” She shook her head. “ ‘Alf o’ one?”
“I’m sorry, Mudge. I want to start off our life together on a higher plane.”
“Fine. Let’s just ‘ave a few snorts of this an’ . . .”
She grabbed a suitcase in each paw and while she wasn’t strong enough to lift them, she was able to drag them through the sand. An admiring Jon-Tom followed her as she trudged toward the lagoon.
Mudge parallelled her, sometimes arguing with his paws, sometimes pleading on his hands and knees. “Don’t do this, Weegee. If you love me, don’t do this.”
“I do love you, Mudge. And if you want to prove your love for me you’ll help me with this thing.”
“Don’t ask me that. I won’t stop you. By all the powers that live in the ground and make tunnels I should stop you but I won’t. But don’t ask me to ‘elp.”
“Piffle. Don’t make such a fuss. Here.” She dropped one of the suitcases. “I know you can do it. I know what you have inside you.”
“Right now ‘tis mostly pain.”
“I’ll dump this one and you do that one.” Jon-Tom and Cautious stood side by side higher up the beach and watched as the otters waded into the shallow lagoon. A horrible keening sound drifted over the water.
“Never heard an otter make noise like that,” Cautious commented.
“Me neither.” Jon-Tom watched small puffs of white rise into the air as sack after sack of pure cocaine was ripped open and scattered upon the tide. When the last had been emptied the suitcases themselves were left to sink peacefully into the pale sand.
Weegee came trotting back to rejoin them. Splashing sounds rose from the water behind her. Jon-Tom peered over her.
“What’s he doing back there?”
She shook her head, sounding disgusted. “He’s out there in the water trying to snort half the lagoon, the stupid fuzzball. But all he inhales is water. Then he sits up spitting and choking for three minutes before he tries again. Let’s go back to the fire. He’ll either give up or drown pretty soon now. I’m not going to baby him. He’s no cub. Just slightly retarded.”
So they sat and waited and nibbled on the roasted seckles until Mudge, looking more pitiful and bedraggled than Jon-Tom had ever seen him, came trudging back to flop wetly down in his spot. He said nothing at all the rest of that evening. The depth of his depression was demonstrated by his refusal to join Weegee in the bushes for some post-dumping discussion.
Morning returned him to something like his usual effervescent self. He was simply too full of life to remain morose for long.
“Easy come, easy go, they say.” He was rearranging the supplies in his backpack. “Time to move on an’ no use to lookin’ back.”
“You got over that fast enough,” said Jon-Tom.
“Wot’s the point in stayin’ down?” He rubbed noses with Weegee. “Besides, when you make a commitment you either stick to it right down the line or you don’t.”
“Pretty impressive coming from someone who’s never made a commitment to anything in his life.”
“There’s a first time for every thin’, mate. I never met anyone like the Weeg ‘ere before, either. Life’s chock full o’ endless surprises, wot?”
“What indeed. What do you think about the beach ahead, Cautious?”
The raccoon was staring southward. “Might as well go this way if it’s the way you need to go, man. Maybe this time we find some friendly folk to sell us boat.”
Off they went, Mudge and Jon-Tom shouldering their packs, Weegee skipping along the shore and occasionally bending to inspect the small treasures the sea had washed up, and Cautious leading the way, his alert eyes constantly scanning the tree line for signs of movement.
“I wonder wot old Kamaulk’s up to an’ ‘ow ‘e’s makin’ out in your world.” Mudge glanced up at his tall friend. “You don’t suppose Corroboc ‘ad a third brother lyin’ about somewheres?”
“Let’s hope not. Two of that ilk are all I ever want to encounter.”
“I were thinkin’, there’s a chance, just a chance mind now, that someone as clever an’ resourceful as that parrot might be able to talk ‘is way out o’ trouble. Those two ‘umans who were goin’ to sell us to some sideshow weren’t exactly wot you’d call any world’s brightest. If Kamaulk could convince ‘em ‘e were more than a trained pet ‘e might be able to get them workin’ for Mm. If they came marchin’ back through that cave passage with a few o’ those lightnin’ throwers like the kind they used to kill Sasheem with they could make a lot o’ trouble.”
Jon-Tom looked uneasy. “I hadn’t thought of that.” The idea of an enraged Kamaulk returning with armed humans from his own world was more than disconcerting. “We’ll just have to hope that nobody believes him.”
But as they marched along the beach he found himself brooding over the image Mudge had called forth. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about with just trying to reach Chejiji.
“I’m telling you, Lenny, you ain’t never seen nothing like this.”
The neatly dressed man leaned back in his leather chair and fiddled with his glasses. “Boys, I’ve booked acts at the Palace for fifteen years. There aren’t any acts I haven’t seen.”