Foster, Alan Dean - Spellsinger 05 by Foster Alan Dean

Author:Foster, Alan Dean
Language: eng
Format: epub

IX

There was dead silence from the little cluster of onlookers. Mudge could only gape at the stranger in their midst. How did one react to a pronouncement like that? Finally the otter tried to smile. He worked at it as hard as he could, but for once that ready grin failed to materialize.

"You're tryin' to scare me, you sorry sod. You're tryin' to scare all of us so we won't find you out for the rhummy-mugger you are. Well, you can't fool me. I don't believe in your bag o' bones for a minute, I don't." He spat at the ground, barely missing the leather and its mute contents. Looking around warily, he began backing away from the silent, sorrowful Colin.

"I wish it might've beertOtherwise," the koala apologized. "There's no predicting what the runes will say."

"Say? That pile o' shit can't say boo. 'Tis a lot o' garbage, Jon-Tom." Jon-Tom was staring wordlessly at his friend. "Wot 'e says as well as wot 'e's tossin' around. Just garbage. Tell me 'tis garbage, Your Wizardship."

Clothahump watched the retreating otter with a maddeningly clinical eye, then spoke to the caster. "By what means?"

Colin looked back at the motionless runes. "Doesn't say, old one."

" 'Tis garbage, it is!" The otter's voice rose uncontrollably. "Garbage and a bloody lie!" He was glancing around nervously, as though he expected to be attacked at any moment. "Fakery and trickery, I ought to know. The fat bear's a con artist. There's more snow in 'is spiel than crowns those mountains up ahead.

Oh, you're slick, you* bloated fuzzball" -he sneered at Colin-"real slick. But you can't fool old Mudge.

No one can predict the future. No one! And if anyone could, they wouldn't do it by dumpin' a pawful o'

junk on the ground an' starin' at it while belching!" He rapped his fist against his chest.

"I'm as 'ealthy as ever me was, surrounded by me good friends, an' there's nothin' in the world I'm afraid of, nothin' that can touch me, nothin' that can-"

He was interrupted by a loud cracking sound. Jon-Tom jumped involuntarily while Dormas backed up fast. Clothahump and Colin did not move. Only Sorbl's marvelous eyes and reflexes, even though slightly numbed by his daily intake of alcohol, enabled him to react fast enough to shout a warning. He gestured with a wing and yelled, "Look out!"

Mudge whirled, eyes wide. Very few creatures can move as fast as an otter. Even so, he wasn't fast enough.

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The huge, rotten branch fell from near the top of the big fir he'd backed beneath, striking him on the back of the head and landing with a tremendous crash. Broken sub-branches, leaves, and dead twigs went flying in all directions. The fall was loud enough to echo several times off the surrounding hillsides.

Everyone rushed toward the fallen otter except Clothahump. The wizard stood close by the rune-caster's tools and looked on curiously.

"Most interesting," he murmured to no one in particular.

"I was half inclined to

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