“Mudge, Weegee, Cautious: get up here behind me.”
“Wot for, mate? If that useless lump o’ ’orseflesh could fly ’e’d be long gone from ’ere before now an’ we wouldn’t be in this fix.”
Weegee spoke as Jon-Tom gave her a hand up. “Do as he says, Mudge.”
“Do as Jon-Tom says, do as Jon-Tom says. I’ve been doin’ that for over a year and look where ’tis got me.”
“All right, then do what I say. Get up here!”
“An’ now I’m takin’ orders from a dumb female.” Grumbling under his breath, he rose and walked to the stallion’s side.
With Jon-Tom in front and the two otters and Cautious behind, there wasn’t much room left on Teyva’s back. Mudge was sitting more on the stallion’s rump than his back, which suited the otter just fine. According to him, that was the part of life he’d been getting ever since he’d met up with Jon-Tom.
“Turn and face them.”
“Why?” Teyva asked Jon-Tom. “I would rather not see the fatal blow coming,”
“Turn an’ face ’em like the man says,” Mudge bawled. “Maybe it don’t make no difference to you, but I’m damned if I’m goin’ to die with a spear up my arse.”
Silently the stallion pivoted.
“Now spread your wings like you’re preparing to take off,” Jon-Tom told him. With a sacrificial sigh the stallion complied.
The gate opened. The villagers parted to form two lines leading from the corral to the firepit. Two wolves, a couple of dingoes and a bat-eared fox came marching ceremoniously down the aisle. Each carried a knife the size of a machete.
“’Ere comes the anointed butchers,” Mudge muttered. “’Old ’em off as long as you can with your staff, mate.”
Jon-Tom ignored the otter as he studied the bloodletters. They wore black straps similar to those that had been placed on Teyva. The last wolf in line held an armful of smaller leathers. Obviously it would not do for the three smaller captives to go to their deaths improperly attired.
Leaning close to the stallion’s ear, he whispered. “Now make like you’re getting ready to fly.”
Obediently Teyva began to flap his great wings. They reached from one side of the corral to the other. He rose off the ground almost a foot this time before settling back to earth and nearly collapsing to his knees.
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely. Jon-Tom thought he could see tears beginning to spill from his eyes. “I just can’t do it.”
“Goodbye, Weegee.” Mudge leaned forward to clasp her tightly to him. “I’m sorry about ail the times we didn’t ’ave to spend in bed so that I could show you wot a great lover I am.
“And I’m sorry,” she murmured back, “about all the times we didn’t have to spend out of bed so that I could learn what a truly fine person you are beneath all the affected crudity and false bravado.”
“Me, I’m just plain sorry,” said Cautious. The raccoon shut his eyes and waited for the first kiss of the knife.
“Fly,” Jon-Tom urged the stallion. “I know you can do it. You know you can do it.” Remembering an old Indian trick he’d once read about he leaned over and bit the stallion’s ear. Teyva started but didn’t rise.
“It’s no use, my final friends.”
The butchers were mumbling some ceremonial nonsense next to the gate. Blessing the sacred slaughtering knives or something, Jon-Tom thought. They had less than minutes left.
“Fly, dammit!”
“Uh, mate.”
“Don’t bother me now, Mudge.”
The otter was fumbling with the left inside pocket of his battered old vest. Curious in spite of himself Jon-Tom looked back. No doubt Mudge wanted to present him with some final offering, some last token of his esteem to cement the bond that had sprung up between them during the past months. Something meaningful. Something that looked just like a four-inch-square packet of white powder.
Weegee’s outrage was palpable. “Mudge!”
“Sorry, luv. I’m weak, I guess. Never made a promise that weren’t some’ow qualified.” He handed the packet to Jon-Tom. “As the time for spellsingin’ seems past, maybe ’tis time to try a little spellsniffin’. Give ’im a whiff o’ this—just a tiny one, mind now.”
“Right, yeah, sure.” Jon-Tom snatched the packet. In his frantic efforts to break it open he almost dropped it. When he ripped it down the middle Mudge winced as though the tear had gone through his back fur. Clinging to the stallion’s neck with his left arm he profferred the gaping bag with his right. “Open your eyes, damn it.”
Teyva blinked, saw the bag. “What is that? I have already made my peace with the universe. There is nothing more to do.”
“I agree, right. This will help relax you. Take a sniff.”
The stallion frowned. “It looks like sugar. Why sniff instead of taste?” The chanting rose in pitch and the official butchers were spreading out in a semicircle to make sure no panicky captive could dash past them.
“Please, just inhale a little. My last request.”
“A foolish one, but if I can make up a little at the last for all the damage I’ve done I will do so.” Bending forward, the stallion dipped his nostrils to the packet and inhaled deeply. Teyva was quite a large animal. Most of the contents of the packet vanished.
A couple of minutes slid by. Then the lead wolf raised the ceremonial blade and struck. It cleft only empty air.
Teyva hadn’t so much taken off as exploded two hundred feet straight up.
The shockingly abrupt ascension caused Jon-Tom to drop the packet and the remainder of its euphoric contents. Cautious and Weegee had to grab Mudge to keep him from diving after it. With his tremendous wings beating the air to a blur, the stallion hovered like a hummingbird above the corral and its stunned occupants. Teyva not only had the wingspan of a small plane; the extraordinary rapidity of his wing beats made him sound like one.
“Well what do you know.” He studied the ground far below. “You were right, man. That is the ground down there, isn’t it?”
