Foster, Alan Dean Spellsinger 5 The Paths of the Perambulator

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toward them Clothahump raised his arms and bellowed a single powerful phrase. And each time the
rocks were blasted to fragments.
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"Not the ideal solution," the wizard said, apologizing for the dust that soon covered all of them, "but I
promise you a good cleansing spell as soon as we have done with this."
Eventually there were no more landslides. Instead the clouds opened up and they were drenched with a
misplaced tropical downpour. It washed away the rock dust but also threatened to wash them right back
down the pass.
Again Clothahump went to work, raising his hands and grumbling about the amount of overtime he was
having to put in at his age. The flood rushing down upon them was transformed into a vast cloud of warm
steam. For ten minutes the pass was turned into a giant sauna. Finally the steam dissipated enough for
them to proceed.
"Look at this," Mudge complained, fingering one side of his vest. " 'Ow the 'ell am I supposed to get
these bloomin' wrinkles out?"
"I am responsible for preserving your life, water rat," Clothahump told him sharply, "not your
appearance. It would do you well to be more attentive to the terrain ahead and less narcissistic."
The otter regarded his filthy, damp fur and bedraggled attire. "As you say, Your Wizardship. I just 'ope
we don't meet anyone I know."
"That's unlikely, pilgrim." The koala put a paw on the back of Clothahump's shell. "How you holding up,
old-timer?"
"I am concerned with the simplicity of these attacks. There is little danger in any of them. That does not
jibe with your reading."
"Like I've said, there are plenty of times when I'm not too accurate. I thought this last one was right on
the money, but I'm not going to complain if I overstated the threat."
"You're underrating yourself, sir," Jon-Tom told him. "There aren't many individuals for whom multiple
landslides and mountain floods hold little danger. I guess whoever we're up against doesn't realize who
he's dealing with."
"Perhaps not, my boy. Or he may be attempting to lull us into overconfidence. The insane can be
exceedingly subtle. Still, you may be right. The sorcery we have had to deal with thus far is of a most
mundane kind. If we run into nothing more complex, we shall have no difficulty in reaching our goal."
"I can't believe that Colin's reading of the runes was that inaccurate."
"Neither can I, man," said the koala, "but there's nothing wrong with hoping that I was."
A voice shrilled down at them. Sorbl had returned from scouting a little way ahead. Now he circled low
over his companions. "Just ahead, Master, friends! The pass reaches its end. Our destination is in sight!"
He wheeled about, digging air, and glided out in front of them once more.
Increasing their pace, they puffed and panted the last few yards and finally found themselves looking
down instead of up for the first time in weeks.
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XII
Below lay a lovely little hanging valley, nestled between two towering peaks. The bottom was filled with
a long blue lake. Evergreens lined both shores, though few rose higher than a dozen feet. The majority
were gnarled and twisted, sure signs that powerful storms visited this valley frequently.
The tree line ended not far above the lake. A few isolated trees grew as much as halfway up the
mountainside. Where they ceased to grow was sited the base of a monolithic, forbidding wall.
"The fortress of our enemy," Donnas declared. "It has to be."
Mudge squinted at it uncertainly. "That's a fortress?"
Truly, Jon-Tom mused, it was a most unimpressive structure. The single outer wall was composed of
plain rock loosely cemented together. What they could see of an inner roof was made of thatch instead of
some sturdy roofing material like slate or tile. Portions of the wall were crumbling and in a sad state of
disrepair. The winding pathway leading up to the wall from the lake was in worse shape still. It was not
even paved.
"What we can see has not been in existence for very long," Clothahump commented. They had started
down toward the lake.
"How can that be?" Jon-Tom asked, confused. "It's falling down."
"In this instance that is not an indication of great age so much as it is of sloppy construction, my boy. It is
poorly designed and ill built. Just like the series of attacks we had to deal with in the pass behind us. It
indicates the presence of a lucky, haphazard opponent as opposed to a methodical and powerful one,
although he may yet succeed in making lethal use of the perambulator's twistings and turnings. We must
remain on guard. Remember the runes."
"I haven't forgotten, sir."
They walked along in silence for a while, each member of the party engrossed in his or her private
thoughts. After a while Clothahump slid over until he was marching alongside Jon-Tom.
He finally gave the wizard a curious glance. "Something on your mind, Clothahump, sir?"
The sorcerer hesitated a moment, finally craned his neck to meet the tall young human eye to eye. "While
I am confident, my boy, that we are dealing here with matters beyond the experience of most people, I
cannot be certain of the outcome."
"Neither can Colin, despite his runes."
"Quite. Therefore, I mean to say a few things that perhaps should have been said before now."
"I don't follow you, sir."
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"What I am trying to say, my boy, is that I have been brisk with you at times. As brisk as with Sorbl on
occasion. Sometimes it may seem to you from my tone, if not from my words, that I only make use of
your talents and care nothing for you personally. This is untrue. I have grown-quite fond of you. I wanted
you to know in case anything-happens."
Surprised and overcome by this wholly unexpected confession, Jon-Tom could think of nothing to say.
"Bringing you to this world was an accident and insofar as blame can be ascribed to it, it falls upon my
shell. Your appearance here in response to my desperate request for sorcerous aid was not well
received. I was most displeased and disappointed." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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