there might be a chance. However fickle his spellsinging,
however uncertain he was of what he might sing, he was
sure of one thing: he’d fashion some kind of magic. And
the first try would be his last. He was sure of that much.
Corroboc wasn’t stupid, and the captain would give him
no second chance to try his hand at wizardry.
Roseroar suddenly twisted to look back over her shoul-
der, one paw going to her rump. The first mate was
grinning back at her.
“Put yo hands on me like that again, cub, and ah’H
make music with yo bones.”
“Gentle now, big one,” said the amused leopard. “I
have no doubt you’d do just that if given the chance. But
you won’t be given the chance. It’ll go easier on you in the
long run if you mind your manners and be nice to Sasheem.
If not, well, we have an ample supply of chain on this
boat, we do. Your heart may be made of iron, but the rest
of you is only flesh and bone. Nice flesh it is, too. Think
over your options.
“If I ask him nicely, Corroboc will give you to me.”
She glared back at him. “Ah won’t be a comforting
gift.”
Sasheem shrugged. “Comforting or unforgiving, it won’t
matter. I aim to have you. Willingly if possible, otherwise
if not. You may as well settle your mind to that.” They
were herded into a barred cell. Sasheem favored Roseroar
with a departing smirk as he joined the rest of his compan-
ions in mounting the gangway.
Roseroar sat down heavily, her huge paws clenching and
116
Alan Dean Foster
unclenching. “That furred snake. Ah’d like to get my
claws into his—”
“Not yet, Roseroar,” Jon-Tom cautioned her. “We’ve