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over their foreheads like those of a basset hound. Their whiskers were kinked
instead of straight.
Weegee found herself prodded along by a four-and-a-half foot-tall monstrosity
with not one but five stripes running raggedly down its spine. Two of them
trailed off to one side instead of continuing on down the tail. One of the
major incisors had twisted up and back until it resembled an ivory mustache
growing from the upper lip, and both shrunken eyes had shifted over to the
left side of the skull. Chipmunk as ogre, Jon-Tom thought. The sight was
enough to shake one s faith in nature. Yet none of their captors limped or
looked diseased. All seemed healthy, certainly healthy enough to stomp anyone
foolish enough to try and escape.
There was a capybara whose distinguishing characteristic was a complete
absence of fur on its back and belly. Overhead flew a pair of ravens with
three-foot wingspans and necks like stunted vultures. Several humans brought
up the rear. They had megalocephalic skulls, hair growing in long strands from
their forearms and calves, and pointed, protruding teeth.
There was no sympathy to be had from that quarter, not even for a fellow human
in distress.
 Wonder where they re taking us? he murmured.
 Ain t it obvious, mate? Mudge laid the sarcasm on thick and heavy.  We re
all off to the
 It can t, Mudge. Not this close to Strelakat Mews. Not this near to success.
 Cor, you an your bloody deathless optimism. Damned if I don t think it ll
live on without you.
 Hey you, good-looking. A hunchbacked mink with one good eye stepped close to
Mudge, eyeing him up and down.  Can I get you something? You want something
maybe?
 Want something? Why sure, lump-lass. I want to leave. I want a million gold
pieces. I
want two dozen lovely otterish houris to comb out me fur.
 Watch those wishes. Weegee bumped him from behind.  They may come back to
haunt you someday.
 Piffle. Mudge looked at the female ogre.  I wouldn t mind knowin what you
lot intend doin with me and me friends  ere.
 That s up to the chief. The mink grunted, spat indelicately into the nearest
bush.
 How about a  int?
The mink s distorted brow clenched. There was a revelation, because she smiled
brightly.
 Food. She shifted the spiked club she was carrying from one shoulder to the
other.
 Hey,  ow s that for an optimistic assessment o our chances, mate? Sound
familiar, wot?
 We ll get out of this. Jon-Tom stumbled, regained his balance.  You ll see.
We always do. We got away from the pirates, we got away from Cautious s
people, and we got away from the normal cannibals. We can get away from the
abnormal ones, too.
 Odds, mate, wot about the odds? They re runnin against us. You can t throw
twelves forever.
 I don t need to throw anything but music. All I need is a few minutes with
the suar.
The otter sounded reflective.  You know, I almost welcome gettin stewed. I m
so sick an
tired o marchin around the world with you, goin from one crisis to the
next, that me enthusiasm s just about run out. He glanced back at Weegee and
his tone softened.  O
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comprehend his suggestion or the implications behind it.
The captives were arraigned before the largest of the caves so that the chief
of the ogres might inspect them. As befitted a leader of. monsters he was an
impressive specimen, this mutated bear, standing some seven feet tall. Add to
his natural size an extended lower jaw, additional teeth, rudimentary horns, a
sharp-edged protruding backbone and it was self-evident he had reached his
position by means of something less refined than sweet reason. Strips of
plaited vines swung from his massive shoulders together with strings of
decorations fashioned from colored rocks and bones. He wore a matching
headdress made from the skulls and feathers of numerous victims.
After a brief examination of the four captives he favored each with an
individual sneer before turning to bark a query to the leader of the party
which had brought them in.
 City folk.
The bear nodded understandingly.  Damn good. City folk less filling, taste
right.
Mudge boldly took a step forward.  Now  old on a minim  ere, your inspired
ugliness.
The otter barely came up to the chiefs thigh.  You can t eat us.
 Wanna bet? growled the chief of the ogres.
Jon-Tom advanced to stand next to Mudge, demonstrating moral solidarity if not
physical superiority. At least he didn t get a crick in his neck looking into [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]