Clearly the chief and his advisors didn’t care one whit for this explanation, but they didn’t have much choice. Jon-Tom knew it and they knew it. The mongoose snapped an order. A platoon of furious, brightly hued and extremely smelly hunters promptly herded Jon-Tom and his friends to one end of the village and into a large, sturdy wooden cage. This was suspended from a thick rope fashioned of interwoven vines which ran through a wooden pulley hung from a high overhead branch. The captives bounced helplessly as they were hauled up until the cage dangled twenty feet off the ground. Looking down between the bottom poles they could watch the villagers jabbing weapons and fingers in their direction.
“I don’t mind that,” Mudge commented, “but I wish they’d do it from a distance. They stink somethin’ terrible, an’ they look worse.”
Weegee slapped a paw over his mouth. “Whatever you do, luv, don’t laugh. Keep in mind ’tis Jon-Tom they need to fix things. The rest of us are expendable. That apparently hasn’t occurred to them yet. Let’s not give them a reason to think of it.” He nodded and she removed her paw.
“I ought to ’ave bit your fingers, luv, but you’re right.” He sat on one of the poles that formed the bottom of the cage. “So ’ow do we get out o’ this one, spellsinger?”
Jon-Tom leaned against a corner of the prison and brooded. “I thought I was getting us out of it.” He was staring at the suar, trying to wish an additional set of strings and better controls into existence. “I wish Clothahump was here.”
“Wot’s this? Losin’ a bit o’ our confidence, are we?”
“Hey, gimme a break. At least they’re not getting ready to barbecue us. Maybe the magic was unconventional, but it did buy us a breathing spell.”
Weegee had a delicate lace handkerchief wrapped around her muzzle. “Poor choice of words, Jon-Tom.”
“I don’t know wot you’re all cryin’ about. I’ve smelled worse in me time.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” she told him, “judging from the descriptions of some of the dens of iniquity Jon-Tom’s told me he’s dragged you out of.”
“Wot’s that?” The otter shot a look in his tall friends’s direction. “Wot false’oods ’ave you been feeding ’er when me back were turned?”
“Only the truth.”
The otter threw up his hands. “The truth? Ain’t you got no more brains than to tell a lady the truth, mate?”
“What do you mean by that?” Weegee snapped, and the two of them launched into a violent argument that if nothing else took their minds off their present precarious situation. Cautious sat down and cleaned beneath his claws. Jon-Tom envied them all their ability to relax.
Worst of all was, he found himself wondering what he would taste like.
VIII
THEY WERE PROVIDED with food and water the following morning. By late afternoon their captors had evidently decided how to handle their unwelcome guests. A creaking announced the lowering of the cage as a half dozen warriors slowly let the rope slide through its pulley. Jon-Tom clutched the bars and peered downward.
“Better think fast, mate. Looks like they think your magic’s ’ad about enough rest.”
“I’ll tell them they’ll just have to wait. I need more time to recharge my batteries.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Take a look at their eyes. If your batteries ain’t recharged by now, I expect they’re goin’ to ’ave a go at removin’ ’em.”
“Maybe they’re bluffing,” said Weegee. “If they kill you they won’t have anyone to restore their normal color and smell.”
“So if ’tis a standoff, then why are they lowerin’ us down? Can’t be for casual conversation an’ I ain’t anxious to be invited to dinner.”
“Be ready.” Cautious was checking out the forest as they descended. “We may have to make a run for it, you bet.”
A run for it. That was something movie cowboys did, Jon-Tom mused. Like heading people off at passes and saving the ranch. He was a spellsinger. Spellsingers didn’t run. They didn’t get eaten, either. He thought furiously. Maybe they could head these primitives off at the impasse.
As it turned out they were not to be marched to the kitchen, though when they saw what was waiting for them Jon-Tom wondered if that fate might not be preferable.
“Well now,” said Kamaulk, “it’s a genuine pleasure to see you again. The way you departed one might think you didn’t care for our hospitality.”
Jon-Tom’s heart sank as he saw the pirate captain, Sasheem and other members of that bloodthirsty crew standing among the natives. They’d have a much more difficult time escaping from the parrot than they would from these superstitious primitives.
“How’d you find us?”
“When you abandoned our company we were quick to send word all up and down the coast. Money talks, tall man. A runner from this tribe heard about our open offer of payment. We hastened here as fast as the word reached us. I’ve already settled a price with this chief. Seems he’s anxious to be rid of you. I don’t think he trusts your spellsinging anymore. Sasheem, relieve our friend of his burden, won’t you?”
“With pleasure, sir.” The first mate and a couple of assistants proceeded to strip Jon-Tom and his friends of weapons, packs, suar and everything else useful.
“What do you intend to do with us?” Weegee stood straight as she asked the question though in her case she thought she already knew the answer.
“Ain’t decided yet. Now me dear departed nest-brother, he wouldn’t be hesitating. He’d have the lot of you gutted on the spot. Myself being of a less wasteful nature I can’t decide whether to try and sell you somewhere for a profit or keep you to satisfy my less businesslike cravings. But I promise you’ll be the first to know when I’ve made my choice.”
“If you take me away from here I won’t be able to return these people to normal.”
Kamaulk chuckled. “You haven’t been paying attention, spellsinger. The chief and I have already discussed the little problem you created here. Their color is already beginning to come back. So is their smell. Have a look and a sniff.”
The pirate was correct. Pink was shading back to brown and black and the rich aroma of raw sewage was less offensive than it had been the day before. Jon-Tom was downcast.
“The spell fades. It never did that when I worked with the duar.”
“You should be thankful.” Sasheem smiled hugely at him. “We arrived to rescue you just in time.” The other pirates found this sally vastly amusing.
“Not sure I wouldn’t ’ave preferred the cookpot,” mumbled Mudge.
“Come now, I’m not so uncivilized as that.” Kamaulk rubbed at an eye. “I doubtless will end up selling you, though perhaps not quite all of you. You see, Sasheem here has grown fond of you and wishes to keep some small remembrance of your numerous meetings. I have not yet decided which part of each of you I am going to allow him to retain. That will depend on the behavior you exhibit between now and the time I have you sold. Keep that in mind lest any new thoughts of escape enter your heads.”
Sasheem fingered his knife. “Eunuchs are in high demand on the western shore of the Glittergeist.”
