Masters of Fantasy Part 20

visitor's interest. Jon-Tom had spent enough time in this world to be wary of strangers: even those who were elderly, polite, well dressed, and to all intents and purposes, harmless.

"Is there something we can do for you, sir?"

"I am called Wolfram. I am in need of a.s.sistance of an uncommon kind." With a nod of his head he indicated a nearby doorway. Swaying from an iron rod above the portal was a sign that identified the establishment as the Wild Boar Inn. "Perhaps it would be better to discuss matters of business somewhere other than in the street."

Mudge, who had been tracking the progress of an attractive lady mink, responded without taking his eyes from the pa.s.sing tail. "Me friend an' me don't interrupt our day to shoot the shat with just anyone who accosts us in public." As the mink tail vanished, so too did the otter's interest. "You buyin'?" The stranger nodded again. Mudge's whiskers quivered appreciatively. "Then we're shootin'. " He preceded the humans into the establishment, his short tail twitching expectantly from side to side.

Like most such Bellwoods establishments, the Wild Boar Inn was already crowded with drinkers and natterers, characters unsavory and tasteful, trolling wenches and amenable marks. The owner, a husky but amiable wild boar name of Focgren, paused in the careful measuring out of questionable libations long enough to grunt in the direction of an unoccupied booth near the back. Their order was taken by an obviously bored but nonetheless attractive vixen whose agility as she avoided Mudge's wandering fingers was admirable to behold. Spangles and beads jangled against the back of her dress and upraised, carefully coiffed tail. The booth's battered, thick wooden walls muted the convivial chaos that swirled around the conversing trio.

"You were saying something about a.s.sistance of an uncommon kind?" Jon-Tom sipped politely at his

tankard while Mudge made a conscious effort to bury his snout in the one that had been set before him.

Having set his walking staff carefully aside, Wolfram indicated the duar that now rested next to the tall young human. "Your instrument is conspicuous, and not the sort to be carried by just any wandering minstrel. You are, perchance, a spellsinger?"

Jon-Tom's interest in the stranger rose appreciably. Recognizing a duar for what it was marked the older man as more sophisticated than originally supposed. There might be real business to be done here.

"While lacking in experience, I a.s.sure you I try every day to practice my art."

Wolfram nodded appreciatively. "Excellent! I am most of all in need simply of your musical talents, but a touch of wizardry is also required."

Suds dripping from his whiskers, a suddenly wary Mudge extracted his face from the tankard. His bright brown eyes flicked rapidly from friend to benefactor and back again. "Wizardry? Spellsingin'-type magic-making'?" He pushed the tankard aside. "Oh no, mate. Count me out! I've 'ad enough o' your so- called singin' o' spells to last me a lifetime!" Rising, he moved to depart.

While continuing his conversation with Wolfram, Jon-Tom kept the fingers of one hand wrapped around the otter's belt, thus preventing the frantic Mudge from escaping. Short legs struggled for purchase on the slippery stone floor.

Jon-Tom smiled rea.s.suringly. "Don't mind Mudge. He's just anxious to get started."

"I'm anxious, alright, you b.l.o.o.d.y great stick-twit!" To no avail, the otter continued his furious struggle to free himself from his friend's grasp. "Let loose o' me pants!"

The three-way conversation was interrupted by a violent crash from the center of the floor. Peering out

from the booth, their attention was drawn to a singularly unwholesome-looking human and his puma companion. Breathing hard, both were staring down at something on the floor. The human held the shattered remnants of a wooden mace, his snarling companion a club that had been broken in half. The upper, k.n.o.bbed end of the mace hung from the handle by a splinter. As Jon-Tom tried to see what it was

they were concentrating on, their expressions changed markedly.

An enormous dark ma.s.s was rising slowly from the floor. As it blotted out a wide section of inn, human and feline began to back away from it. Whirling abruptly, the man dropped his broken weapon and tried to run. A leather-wrapped wrist bigger around than his head reached out and enormous brown-furred fingers closed around his neck, lifting him off the floor. Rising, he clawed frantically at the grasping digits while his legs kicked uselessly at empty air. Waving the human over his head like a limp flag, the now erect leather-armored grizzly reached for the panicked puma. As he did so, a chair slammed into his back and shattered into kindling. When someone in the crowd took physical as well as verbal objection

to this cowardly blow from behind, the inn's population descended (not entirely unwillingly) into instant and complete pandemonium.

Above it all the immense ursine could be seen clearly, still waving his now unconscious human a.s.sailant

while bellowing above the increasingly thunderous fray, "Stromagg stomp!"Mudge was already heading for the back exit, ducking flying utensils and other debris, some of it organic. Their host stayed close to him, anxious to be clear of the rapidly escalating skirmish. But Jon- Tom hung back. The otter bawled imploringly at his friend.

"Quickly, guv, quickly! The coppers'll be 'ere any minute! An' you know wot that'll mean."

Jon-Tom did, but still he lingered. "You two go on. I'll be right there." So saying, he plunged into the

affray. Shaking his head in disbelief and venting a whistle of disgust, Mudge concentrated on

chaperoning their erstwhile benefactor away from the chaos.

The tall human with sword and duar was largely ignored by the combatants, busily engaged as they were in removing one another's appendages and resolving old scores. Jon-Tom had to strike out only occasionally to remain above the fray as he worked his way towards its nucleus. When the enormous bear leaned in his direction, all ma.s.sive chest and fur and long teeth, he found himself wondering if this was such a good idea after all. Despite his sudden apprehension, he managed to call out, "Come with me! The police are on their way."

Absently crus.h.i.+ng to the floor with one ma.s.sive fist an onrus.h.i.+ng, sword-wielding wombat, the grizzly's heavy brows drew together as he considered the suggestion. "Why should I go with you? I don't know you."

There was a commotion near the entrance to the inn. Timswitty's deservedly feared finest were arriving.

"Because I'm offering you a job-I think."

Whirling about, the s.e.xtet of uniformed skunks prepared to put an end to the fighting in a manner only they could manage, by means not even the strongest berserker could defy. Jon-Tom broke into a cold sweat. Still, the bear was reluctant.

"You help Stromagg?"

"My word on it." Instinctively, Jon-Tom found himself starting to edge toward the rear exit, wondering as he did so if there would be enough time to clear the room before the room needed clearing.

Fis.h.i.+ng into the mob, the bear came up with the battered, bleeding body of the puma who had first

attacked him. When smacking the sagging feline across its limp face failed to produce any reaction,

Stromagg grunted heavily and tossed the cat into the roiling crowd.

"Hurry!" Jon-Tom pulled on the bear's forearm to urge it along. He might as well have been tugging on a sequoia. But the ursine moved.

They just did make it out before the police tactical squad let loose, so to speak. An unmusical chorus of

ma.s.s retching pursued the escapees as they fled down a back alley.

As soon as they were clear of combative and olfactory intrusions, they slowed. Mudge guardedly eyed the mountainous newcomer in their midst. Stromagg endured the inspection thoughtfully. Or perhaps, Jon-Tom thought, "thoughtfully" was not the appropriate description. The bear's appearance hinted at a compa.s.sionate nature, but one that only infrequently strayed into the alien realm of higher cogitation.

"Wot's with the meat-mountain, mate?"

His breathing at last beginning to slow, Jon-Tom beamed and put a rea.s.suring hand on the grizzly's immense arm. "I've just taken on a little extra muscle."

"Wot for?" the otter snapped. "The job we ain't goin' to take?"

Ignoring his friend, Jon-Tom turned to the somewhat bedraggled Wolfram. "Now then, good sir. What

exactly was it that you wished to employ my services for?"

Pulling his gaze away from the looming immensity of the bear, their benefactor gathered his wits. "I wish you to serenade a lady with whom I am deeply and hopelessly in love."

Jon-Tom and Mudge exchanged a glance. The graybeard's offer fell somewhat short of requiring them to

Save the World, or some such life-threatening exercise. Mudge was too relieved to comment.

"That's all?" Jon-Tom wondered aloud.

Wolfram nodded slowly. "That's all. And for that I will pay you well. You see, I am a wise man, but a

terrible singer."

Mudge jerked a furry thumb in Jon-Tom's direction. "Then this be a good fit, guv, as me mate 'ere is a good singer, but terrible stupid."

Ignoring the slur, Jon-Tom proved the otter wrong by asking, "If all that's needed is an amorous song,

why not hire any troubadour? Why seek out a spellsinger like myself?"

Wolfram smiled approvingly. "A song to Larinda is all that is required. It is the reaching her that may require the application of some magic in concert with the music."

"Oi, I knew it," Mudge muttered under his breath.

"Calmness be upon you, my peripatetic friend." Wolfram tried to rea.s.sure the otter. "A simple spellsong

should suffice. Nothing too elaborate. I would attempt it myself except that I, as previously stated, cannot carry a tune in a bucket."

"How simple a spellsong, guv'nor?" Mudge inquired warily.

"That is for the singer to decide. I will provide you with directions. I shall also pay your expenses, and half your fee in advance." Withdrawing a heavy purse from within the depths of his cloak, he proceeded to spill a tinkling pile of gold coins into Jon-Tom's cupped hands. Mudge's eyes widened, while Stromagg looked on appreciatively.

"'Alf, you say, guv?" The otter eyed the golden flood greedily.Wolfram nodded as he slipped the now empty purse back into his cloak. "The other half when the object of my affection responds." Turning, he gestured with his staff. "Do you know the lands of the Agu Canyon, that lies between here and Hygria?"