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they were convoyed down the street. You still haven t told us what we re supposed to have done,
Buncan pressed the rat in command.
Done? The commander looked back at him. You offend by your very presence. Your existence
degrades, indeed mocks, all decent community standards.
Ere now, guv, said Squill, are you implyin that me and me mates are duty?
No, replied the rat. I m saying that your condition is filthy, execrable, squalid, and unclean. Your odor
is rank and your feet defile the ground wherever they make contact. As for your breath, it is of a
loathsomeness so lavish that I do not possess terms of sufficient severity with which to describe it.
Neena leaned close to her brother. I think e s sayin that we don t quite measure up to the local
median, cleanliness-wise.
You will have an opportunity to purify yourselves as much as possible prior to your appearance before
the Magistrate, the rat was telling them as they turned a corner. The street opened onto a landscaped
square paved in white limestone. Citizens gathered around the milky marble fountain in the center stared
openmouthed as the parade passed.
On the far side of the square they were marched into a large building and made to wait in a spacious
chamber while the commandant rat conversed with a colleague behind a desk. Asked to hand over their
weapons and personal effects, there was little they could do but comply. To Buncan s chagrin, he was
also compelled to turn in his duar. That done, most of their escort departed. The remainder escorted and
shoved them, none too gently, down a short corridor and into a large barred vestibule. Even the odd
diagonal bars had been painted white.
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Jail it might be, but the cell was as spotless as the antechamber outside.
Squill grabbed the bars and yelled after the departing rat and his companion, the chief jailer (a shrew of
unpleasant disposition and appearance).
You d better not try to keep us ere any longer than we re willin to go along with this! We re powerful
sorcerers, we are.
The rats looked back and grinned thinly. Of course you are. But tell me: If you re such masters of the
arcane arts, why not use your magic to properly cleanse yourselves?
We are clean, dammit! Gripping the bars, Squill hopped up and down in frustration.
Not by civilized standards. The officers turned a corner and vacated the corridor outside the cells.
Neena took a seat on one of the two benches that hung suspended from a wall . . . no doubt to make it
easier to clean under, Buncan mused.
Well, we didn t ave no trouble findin a place to spend the night.
Buncan tried to put the best possible light on their situation. This isn t so bad. Inconvenient, but hardly
dangerous. We ll answer their questions and pay their fine, as Gragelouth surmises, and then we ll get the
hell out of Hygria as fast as we can replenish our supplies.
My wagon and team, the merchant mumbled. Buncan eyed him unsympathetically.
You re the one who said to cooperate.
The sloth regarded him with atypical sharpness. You saw how many there were. We would have not
stood a chance in a close-quarter battle. The intelligent fighter picks the time that best suits him.
Righty-ho. Squill spread his arms wide. Why, we re in a much better position to get out o this
compost cap now than we were afore.
At least we re not dead, Gragelouth shot back, showing uncharacteristic pugnacity. I have watched.
You need time to compose your spellsongs. We possessed no such margin for chronological error when
we were surrounded.
We could magic ourselves out o ere, Neena murmured, except . . .
No duar, Buncan finished for her. We may have to try and clean ourselves up to meet their
standards.
You weren t payin attention, mate. Squill ran a paw down the diagonal bars. That ll just get us an
audience with the local judge, not out o ere. An wot appens if no matter wot we do we can t never
get up to their bleedin high standards ? He showed bright teeth. I don t like bein pushed around.
They may only want our money, Gragelouth observed.
Maybe, maybe, Squill murmured softly. Or they might want everythin of ours, which they ll
confiscate while we rot away in this bleedin cell.
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They won t let us rot, said his sister. Wouldn t be a clean thing to do.
Maybe, but I don t think I want to ang around to find out. Gragelouth rose from where he d been
sitting and gazed up the corridor. Someone is coming.
It was the rat, flanked by a pair of strangely garbed woodchucks. Their attire was richly embroidered
with a plethora of appliqu6d arcane symbols.
They halted outside the cell. The nearest woodchuck adjusted bifocal glasses. What have we here?
They claim to be sorcerers. The rat s lips curled in an elegant sneer.
Look more like vagrants to me, commented the second, slightly taller woodchuck.
His associate nodded. I am Multhumot, Senior Master of the Hidden Arts for Hygria. I do not believe,
but I am willing to be convinced. If you are sorcerers, show me a sample of your skills.
You mean you re gonna let us? said Squill. Right!
An effective demonstration will require more than enthusiasm. The woodchuck s tone was dry.
We are sorry if we have unwillingly given any offense. Gragelouth advanced from the back of the cell
to the bars. If you will but return to us our possessions, we will depart immediately.
It is too late for that. The commandant was smiling. You have committed grave offenses and must pay
the penalty. Gragelouth nodded his shaggy head, muttering. It is as I suspected.
Oi, you were right, merchant. Neena was staring at the rat. That s wot they were after all along. Tell
me, bald-tail, is your conscience as clean as your butt?
I don t know what you mean. By his tone the commandant indicated that he knew exactly what she
meant.
Right. Squill looked eager. They want proof, let s give em some proof.
Maybe it would be better simply to pay the fine, Gragelouth ventured uneasily.
Stuff it, sloth, said Squill. This ere s personal now.
I need my instrument back. Duncan did his best to affect an air of indifference.
The Master wants to see magic, not music. The rat snorted disdainfully.
Multhumot waved a hand. Bring what he requests, but first check the interior for weapons and
devices. He eyed Duncan appraisingly. This had best not be a joke, human. Do not think to toy with
me.
Buncan kept his expression carefully neutral.
A squirrel appeared with the duar. The cell door was opened and it was passed inside. Buncan cradled
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it lovingly, checking it thoroughly for damage. It appeared unharmed. Only when he was satisfied did he
turn to the otters, who waited expectantly.
Something simple, he told them. Just enough for a demonstration.
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