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their transparent tinted wings and filtering starlight through living stained
glass. A pair of owls soared past overhead, making for L bor. Not searching
for him, Buncan mused. Messengers, most likely, or just a young couple looking
for a nice empty tree in which to make out.
The otters were up before the sun. Their energy was incredible, though if the
mood took them they could also sleep for a day and a half.
By midmoming there was still no sign of pursuit, and Squill had paused to
point out fresh ruts in the road.
 See that? He clutched at his mount s reins, steadying the big lizard.  The
merchant s wagon.
 How do you know that? Buncan asked him.  This is the main road from
Lynchbany to L bor. Plenty of wagons pass this way.
 Ain t seen any, Neena countered.  Tis the slow season.
 We ll know right soon. Squill spurred his mount on, and Buncan hurried to
follow.
Were their parents missing them yet? he wondered. Following breakfast they d
taken then- best shot at a privacy spell. In theory Jon-Tom shouldn t be able
to track them now with magic. In theory. He shrugged. There was little more
they could do to cover their tracks.
Legend said that his father and Mudge had helped stop the Plated Folk at the
Jo-
Troom Pass. Hard to believe it was the same person who spent much of his time
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puttering around the family tree, fixing leaky plumbing and barbecuing fish on
the lawn out back. Could that person break through the straightforward
solidity of a
privacy spell?
He chucked the reins and the big skink hissed slightly, turning its narrow
blindered head to look back at him.
 Come on, pick it up, he told the uncomprehending animal.  We want to
overtake this merchant before another night falls. With poor grace the lizard
increased its pace.
Evening was threatening to make its appearance when Squill suddenly brought
his own mount to an abrupt halt. Buncan drew alongside, stopped.  What is it?
Something the matter?
 Don t you  ear it?
 I  ear it. Neena was leaning forward and to one side, trying to see past her
brother.
 Well, I don t, snapped Buncan.
 Why not? Your ears are bigger than ours.
 But not as sharp. Above or below the water.
 You re always underwater, mate, Squill told him. But affectionately.
Buncan followed the otters lead as they dismounted and secured their skinks
to a nearby tree. Just as they had for years, they used the undergrowth to
conceal their movements as they advanced. Only, Buncan knew that this time
Squill and Neena weren t playing. Maybe his hearing wasn t as good as theirs,
but he was equally adept at avoiding twigs and dry leaves.
It didn t take long before he, too, could hear what had attracted Squill s
attention:
many voices shouting and yelling. Only a couple were deep enough to suggest
size.
The rest were fairly high-pitched.
They came to a place where the forest thinned and they could see the road
again.
Stopped to one side was the merchant s wagon. Thanks to his well-honed powers
of memory and observation, Buncan was able to recognize it instantly from the
single brief glimpse he d had of it parked behind Clothahump s tree.
Also, there was a large spellcharged sign on the side which periodically
flashed in bright canary-yellow letters:
GRAGELOUTH MERCHANT & TRADER
The wagon rested on four thick-spoked, brightly painted wooden wheels. A
single door interrupted the smooth lines of the stem. There was a built-in
ladder which allowed access to the roof, and a pair of stairs bolted beneath
the doorway. Pots, pans, and other household goods dangled from hempen and
wire leaders like misshapen fruit. Two muscular, squat-bodied dray lizards
yoked side by side stood placidly in front of the wagon, scratching at their
blinders and sampling the ground with their flattened pink tongues.
Though the wagon faced away from them, they could see the merchant seated on
the forebench. Hatless, his thick gray coat showed evidence of recent
trimming. The long fur beneath his arms swayed as he argued with those who had
surrounded him.
Standing near the front of the team and holding the harness of the lead lizard
was a
massive masked figure. The mask was natural, for the individual was a
spectacled bear. He wore long pants, a dull hazel shirt, and a heavy leather
cap. His size made him prominent among the sword- and ax-armed ringtail cats
and raccoons who comprised the majority of the gang.
A tall, lithe, rather rakishly clad coatimundi stood nearest the wagon,
gesturing animatedly in the merchant s direction with a thin rapier. They
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could see Gragelouth flinch whenever the blade flicked too close. Brass studs
glistened among the coati s attire. Even at a distance Buncan could make out
the diamond that sparkled in one of his prominent canines.
 Wot a bleedin marvelous opportunity! Neena whispered.  We can rescue the
silly sod an ingratiate ourselves to  im forever.  E ll  ave to take us on.
She drew her short sword and took a step forward.
Buncan hastened to restrain her.  Wait a minute! He raised his eyes above the
brush line.  There s. .half a dozen raccoons and ringtails, the coati, and
the bear. There s only three of us, and the bear s a lot bigger than I am.
 Righty-ho, mate, agreed Squill cheerfully.  Them s fair odds, they are. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]