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I don t see any, said the rat. It s a trick. He s trying to
scare us with tricks!
The mob surged forward. Praying as hard as he ever had in his
brief life, Jon-Tom stabbed the ignition button again and held it down. Come
on baby, he said silently, turn over, turn over!
The engine threw black smoke in the face of the advancing lynx,
kicked in, and sent the zodiac shooting out across the calm water of me bay,
snarling like a lost motocross bike. It was followed by a number of
sharp-edged pointed objects which fell far short of their goal. A few choice,
equally pointed insults did reach him but did no damage.
But what now? His outraged audience did not appear pacified by
this incontrovertible proof that the object he had conjured up was indeed a
boat. Probably still looking for the promised crew, he mused. They continued
to jump up and down on the shore, screaming unheard imprecations and
gesticulating obscenely in his direction. He would have to wait and circle
back up the river after nightfall, find some secluded anchorage, and try to
make his inglorious way back to Lynchbany under cover of darkness.
First he had to wend his way through the harbor traffic. Bearing
down on him already was a huge ocean-going catamaran. The double hull
contained the lower class passenger compartments, the upper deck the rooms for
those traveling first class, while the cargo was slung in nets between the
hulls. This enabled the catamaran to run smartly up over a low dock without
having to remove cargo from inside the ship.
He turned to port and the catamaran appeared to swerve to bear
down on him. Each hull boasted a pair of masts, one square-rigged for speed,
the other fore-rigged for maneuverability. It wasn t maneuvering to his liking
now. Had someone on shore somehow communicated with a relative or friend in
charge of the ship? The zodiac could run circles around anything in Yarrowl
harbor, but it was distressing to think the entire city might be roused
against him so quickly.
As the starboard hull of the big ship slid past him something
tumbled over the side. Instinctively he winced, but it was only a rope. He
recognized the face leaning over the railing.
Don t just squat there like a bug on a rock, mate, Mudge
shouted. Grab hold and tie on!
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In disbelief Jon-Tom gaped at the otter. Then he swung the zodiac
around and accelerated to catch up with the catamaran. Catching hold of the
trailing line, he secured it to the hole in the zodiac s bow and shut off the
engine as sailors pulled him close to the hull. A sea ladder was extended to
him. Making his way carefully hand over hand, he soon found himself standing
on the deck looking back at curious sailors and well-dressed passengers. A
grinning Mudge saluted briskly and then stepped clear. Jon-Tom brushed his
hair out of his eyes and started for the otter.
Hold off a minim, mate. I know wot you re thinkin .
No you don t. If you did, you d already have jumped overboard.
Mudge continued to retreat, well aware he could dodge Jon-Tom s
lunges with ease. Think it through, lad. You really didn t think you were
goin to conjure up a proper craft with that shadow o a duar, did you?
Why not?
Because you couldn t do it when you ad your duar, that s why.
Jon-Tom halted. Three times he d sung his song, and the best he d
been able to do was the little zodiac. A fine craft for exploring a lake or
cruising up a river, but not the sort of thing one would choose to cross an
ocean in, especially after the couple of gallons of fuel the engine contained
ran out.
Soon as I saw ow things weren t goin with your spellsingin ,
the otter went on, I sort of took the first opportunity to make a discreet
exit and locate emergency transportation. A fine ship an a cooperative
captain ave agreed to carry us as far as the island kingdom o Orangel.
That s where this vessel s bound. Orangel s more than alf the way to Chejiji.
From there we won t ave no trouble inn* transportation to the southern
shores, or so says our Captain. A substantial payment insured a slight change
o course to pluck you from the water. Money we now ave in plenty, thanks to
your performance.
Mudge, you guaranteed those spectators magic. You of all people
should know that spellsinging isn t an infallible discipline, much less when
I m trying to make it work with a back-up instrument. Suppose I hadn t been
able to conjure up my small inflatable craft and get away? What then?
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Now don t let s go gettin ourselves all upset over
might- ave-beens. The facts o the matter are that you did produce this
charmin little boat an that it did spirit you safely away from that
pustulant seep o ignorant gawkers. O course, ad it not done so and ad you
not been able to outswim your critics then I expect I would ve returned ome
sadder an richer to convey me regrets to your beloved, thence to continue on
life s merry way after sheddin a sorry tear or two for me lost friend. All o
which is so much snakesnot, since you re standin ere safe, sound and much
better off than when you started singin .
That s a pretty cold assessment of what could have happened,
Mudge.
Tis a cold world, mate, as I ve ad occasion to mention before.
T wasn t so bad, now were it? I took the time to make sure there were none
among your avid audience likely to outswim you. No otters.
As the novelty of the fleeing human and his inflatable boat began
to pale, the sailors and well-dressed promenaders on the upper deck started to
disperse.
Let s ave no more talk o despair an disasters that weren t.
Mudge encompassed sea and sky with a sweeping gesture. See wot a luvely day
it is. We re off to this Stubborn Kit Mail place an we re goin in style.
Wait til you sees the cabin I ve reserved for you. Ain t this wot you
wanted?
Jon-Tom s voice had fallen to whisper as he made the grudging
confession. I guess so.
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