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last splinters of smok-
ing wood apart, and brushed dust from his hands.
"Something wrong? If it's the trail -.."
" Tisn't that, guv. It's... well, you'd better come and 'ave a looksee for
yourself."
"A looksee at what?"
Mudge said evenly, "I think the ground ahead's on fire."
Jon-Tom swallowed his ready retort as he saw that the otter was in dead
earnest. Hurriedly he slipped into his backpack and followed his companion
southward. Mudge underscored the seriousness of his claim by not talking as
they marched.
Sure enough, as they topped a small pass between
the boulders, Jon-Tom could see vapor rising off to the left. It was only
after they'd hiked another mile that he could be certain it wasn't smoke-
Mudge could see the difference, too. "Sorry, mate-
1 turned back to camp before comin' this far. That ain't smoke from no fire.
'Tis steam."
"That it is/'Jon-Tbm agreed, "but what's the source?"
They found out when they crested the next rise.
Stretched out before them was a most wonderful panorama. Hot pools of varying
depth and hue bubbled and growled in the cool of morning. Steplike terraces of
calcium carbonate climbed the rocks, each one like the entrance to a sultan's
palace. Steaming water cascaded down them from hot springs above, constantly
adding to and altering an already spectac-
ular sight. Brown-and-yeUow bands of travertine en-
closed emerald-green basins. Everywhere could be seen the blue, green, and
yellow of heat-loving algae.
"Just like Yellowstone," Jon-Tom murmured. "1
feel privileged to see this."
"And I feel like a moron," muttered Mudge. ** 'Earth on fire' indeed!"
THE; MOMENT or THE MAQICSAM
81
"Don't feel bad. It could look that way from a distance." Jon-Tom removed his
backpack, then his shirt, and started on his belt, Mudge eyed him curiously.
"Now wot are you up to?"
"I haven't had a hot bath since we left Clothahump's tree."
"A hot bath. Now there's a novel idea."
"Find yourself a cool pool tf you want to join me,*'
Jon-Tom told him, slipping his pants down his legs.
"I enjoy hot water, Mudge. Keep in mind that I
haven't got your insulating layers of fur and fat."
"Wot fat?" snapped the indignant otter. "I ain't fat"
"It's a subcutaneous layer and it's there to keep you warm when you're under
water."
"Sounds bloody disgustin*." Mudge lifted a flap of skin from his left arm,
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eyed it as though seeing it for
the first time. But he was damned if he was going to sit and watch while
Jen-Torn enjoyed himself. The water in the pool the human had chosen was much
too warm for his taste, but another nearby was pleasant enough. Stripping
quickly, he dove into the natural basin, found he had to float. The sand at
the bottom was too hot to touch.
"A hot bath. You 'umans are burstin* with weird notions"
Jen-Torn didn't reply. He was too comfortable, drifting on his back in the
warm water, listening to it bubble and tumble down the hillsides surrounding
them. There were no geysers in evidence, suggesting that this was a relatively
calm thermal area-
"Back where I come from," he told Mudge lazily, "there's a tribe of humans
called the Maori who live in a place just like this. It's called Rotorua and
it steams all year round."
Mudge sniffed, paddling across the surface of his
Alan Dean Foster
82
own pool. "It ain't for me, mate. Give me a nice ice-cold mountain stream to
go swimmin' in any day.
Though this stuff does," he admitted, "clear out your sinuses." He dove in a
single flowing motion, a grace-
ful curve that belied the presence of a stiff backbone.
As he did, something struck the water just behind him.
Jon-Tom stood, the heat of the bottom sand tick-
ting his feet, and tried to see what had entered the water aft of the otter's
submerging backside. As he stared, something went spang against the boulder
behind him and flew to pieces. Some of the pieces floated. He picked them up
and identified them instantly.
When Mudge broke the surface again, it was to see his companion huddled in a
narrow cove formed by overhanging rocks. He paddled toward the adjoining pool.
"Wot*s up, mate?"
"Didn't you see?"
"See wot?" Mudge frowned, pivoted in the luke-
warm water.
"It went right over when you dove."
"Wot went right over me when 1 dove?" Something whizzed past his right ear and
he jerked around sharply in the water, his eyes wide. "Cor, somebody's
shootin' at us!" He ducked just in time, and a second arrow struck the water
directly behind him.
He emerged as if shot from some subterranean gun, leaping completely over the
stone barrier sepa-
rating the two pools, and swam over to huddle next to Jon-Tom. Their weapons
and clothes lay on a nice, dry slope on the opposite side of the water, in a
sunny spot completely devoid of cover.
"We'll 'ave to make a run for it, mate." Mudge spat out warm water. "We can't
just squat 'ere and let 'em pick us off." He took a deep breath and started to
submerge.
THB MOMENT OF THK MUMClAW
83
^
i >.
Jon-Tom grabbed him by the fur on top of his head and pulled him up again.
"Hold on a minute."
A half dozen arrows whizzed past, far overhead.
"Listen"
High-pitched squeaks sounded from the far ridge.
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More arrows went past. None landed near the ner-
vous bathers.
"Maybe they're not shooting at us." He paddled out just far enough to see
around the rocks beneath which they were hiding, trying to follow the flight
of the arrows.
Sure enough, moments later other cries and shouts came from that direction,
and several small spears arced past overhead, retracing the path of the mis-
siles which had initially panicked the two travelers.
The shouts and screams grew steadily louder, and soon both groups of
combatants revealed themselves.
The opposing war parties clashed in the middle of a single natural causeway
which wound its way across the hot springs. Spears, stones, and arrows filled
the air, flying through the steam- Mudge and Jon-Tom strove to make themselves
as inconspicuous as possible.
There were a few gophers and moles among the fighters, but the large majority
on both sides were prairie dogs ranging between four and five feet in height.
They slashed and stabbed with quick, short
movements, their high-pitched battle squeaks rising above the hiss and rumble
of the springs. They fought with a determination and ruthlessness that
Jon-Tom found appalling in such, well, cute creatures.
There was nothing comical about the carnage they wreaked on one another,
though. Body after body tumbled into the steaming water, limbs flew through
the air as swords made contact, and the perfect clarity of the springs was
soon stained dark by the blood of the fallen.
This went on for the better part of an hour before
Alan Dean Foster
84
the war party on the left began to retreat. Their opponents redoubled their
efforts and in minutes had gained complete control of the causeway. They
fanned out over the opposite hillside, dispatching those of the opposition too
weak or badly wounded to join their comrades in flight. They did so with a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
