The raccoon took a deep breath and relayed the reply. The mongoose’s eyes grew wide. He took a couple of steps back from the tall human as he spoke.
“He say he pretty impressed, you bet, if you can do this thing. For whole tribe?”
“For the whole tribe,” Jon-Tom reiterated, staring at the chief as he spoke.
This time it wasn’t necessary for Cautious to translate, the chief getting the gist of it from Jon-Tom’s expression and attitude. Again the head slinker chattered away and Cautious strained to make sense of his words.
“Chief say you try this thing and if you tell the truth there be no reason to keep you here. He say he want to know how you can tell what everyone want most in the world.”
“Tell him all they have to do is think of it, and I will know.”
This produced quite a commotion among the assembled hunters and every other villager within earshot. The entire population had clustered around the hunting party and its captives. They babbled among themselves until the chief raised both paws for silence. Then he sat himself down in front of Jon-Tom, crossed his short legs, and spoke briefly to Cautious.
“Chief say you go ahead.”
“I’ll need my instrument, my suar, to work the magic.”
As soon as this was translated one of the hunters quickly handed it over, after first checking the resonating box to make sure it held no concealed knives or other weapons.
As he tuned up, Mudge sidled up next to him. “I don’t know wot you ’ave in mind, mate, but it can’t work. You ain’t got the wherewithal without your duar to grant even one o’ these charmin’ fellas the thing ’e most wants in the ’ole world, let alone the ’ole bleedin’ bunch of ’em.”
“Of course I can’t. What kind of fool do you think I am?”
“I expect I’m fixin’ to find out.”
“I just want to get them thinking hard about something, anything. With everyone concentrating on his heart’s desire, I’m going to try and put the village into a trance. Remember how we put Corroboc’s whole crew to sleep? I don’t think I can do that here, especially without the duar. They’re too sharp-eyed and alert. But I do think I can put them into a hypnotic trance because they’re doing half the work for me by concentrating hard on a single thought. Then while they stand around swaying with stupid contented smiles on their happy faces, we can get the hell out of here.”
“I don’t ’ave any better ideas. But if this don’t work they ain’t goin’ to be real pleased with us. Not that they’ve exactly invited us to join ’em in song an’ dance as it is.” He stepped back.
“What’s he going to try?” Weegee asked him.
“Paralyze ’em with the sheer beauty o’ ’is voice, m’luv.”
“Tell them to start concentrating on what they want,” Jon-Tom told Cautious. “In order for the magic to work they have to think of that and nothing else. They must shut out all other thoughts. I want them thinking as hard as they can.”
The raccoon nodded, translating for the chief and everyone else nearby. The word was passed through the assembled villagers. Many of them closed their eyes to enhance their concentration while those who kept them open stared expectantly in Jon-Tom’s direction. If only they were as friendly an audience as they were attentive, he thought.
Having already settled on his song, he began to strum the suar’s strings. Almost immediately a faintly phosphorescent green cloud formed over the villagers’ heads. Whispers of astonishment and awe greeted this rapid manifestation of true magic.
Unfortunately, while visually impressive, it distracted them from concentrating. He had to tell Cautious to remind them to ignore things like the green cloud or none of them would get their wishes. The cloud did have the effect of convincing the doubters among the hunters, however. Everyone was concentrating intently now.
As he sang on, a few gneechees put in an appearance. Not many, certainly far fewer than would have been drawn to the music of his duar, but enough to show that the spellsinging was working. There seemed to be something wrong with them, though. Instead of swooping and darting in familiar patterns, they shot through the air in short, jerky bursts. A couple even smashed into the ground and bounced dazedly away.
What this erratic behavior portended he couldn’t imagine and didn’t have time to consider. What mattered was that the tribe continue to concentrate. He could see them beginning to drift, to lose consciousness where they stood. A foul odor abruptly assailed his nostrils. Odd, but then his spellsinging often produced unexpected side effects. He could see that his companions smelled it, too.
“Wot the bloody ’ell’s that aroma?”
Next to him, Weegee put both paws over her nose. “Jon-Tom, it’s awful.”
Indeed it was, but he was afraid to stop singing or playing. The horrible miasma spread and intensified.
Cautious tried to retreat a few steps, nodding toward the villagers closest to him. “I think it coming from them.”
Indeed, every one of the villagers, from the chief down through the hunters to the lowliest infant, seemed to have suddenly acquired the most abominable body odor. Nor did they appear in the least hypnotized by the spellsinging. One by one they opened their eyes and began to discuss the atrocious effluvia that now permeated their fur. Mutterings of disgust and anger filled the air as neighbor shied away from neighbor.
“That settles it.” Mudge could barely keep his breakfast down. “Not that there seemed much doubt wot fate they ’ad in mind for us before, but ’tis confirmed now.”
Jon-Tom continued to play until it was clear his song wasn’t producing the desired effect. “I don’t understand. I played that perfectly. The words were so apt.”
“Must’ve been somethin’ in your pronunciation, mate, or maybe it ’as to do with your usin’ this ’ere suar instead o’ your duar. You tried to get ’em thinkin’ all the time. Wot you got ’em was stinkin’ all the time.”
“We’ll have to try again.” As he said this a pair of the senior hunters were heading toward him, gesturing angrily with their truncated machetes. “Cautious, tell them it’ll be all right, tell them I made a mistake but I’m going to fix everything. Tell them fast.”
The raccoon translated. The hunters hesitated, glared threateningly at the man in their midst but held their ground. He began to sing again. It wasn’t easy because of the odor, but he had no choice. Once again the green cloud intensified. No onlooker could doubt the human was a magician. The trouble was that his variety of magic wasn’t very agreeable.
He sang hard, trying to concentrate particularly on his enunciation, phrasing each lyric precisely. Once more the spellsinging took effect. Once more the result was not quite what he’d been striving for.
“Terrific, mate.” Mudge gazed at the villagers surrounding them. “You’ve made ’em our friends forever.”
The odor had not gone away. Not only was the tribe still stinking worse than an antiquated sewage plant, the second spellsong had induced a second additional change in their demeanor. Every one of them, irrespective of species, had turned a shocking shade of pink.
“You couldn’t make them think,” said Weegee, “so you made them stink and pink.”
“I just don’t understand,” Jon-Tom muttered to himself. “The songs both sounded so right.”
“I wouldn’t try tellin’ ’em that, mate. Not that you could make ’em any madder. Wotever you do don’t say you can’t change ’em back or they’ll ’ave us on the spit on the spot.”
“Got it.” He turned to Cautious. “Tell the chief that the magic doesn’t always work right the first time. I’m sorry for the unpleasant results, but after I rest I can make everything right again. When this kind of magic occurs you have to wait a while between spelling or you just make things worse.”
