Eight Levels of Purity, I will have the hide off whoever is
responsible!” Then he caught sight of Jon-Tom standing
like a pale tower above the heads of the youngsters. “How
did you get in here?”
Jon-Tom faced him with a broad, innocent smile. “Just
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Alan Dean Foster
visiting. A little late, I know. Special dispensation from
Chokas.”
“Just visiting be damned! Where’s your pass? These are
not visiting times.”
Jon-Tom kept smiling as the cubs crowded close around
him. “Like I said, friend, it’s a special occasion.”
The monitor carried a short, ugly black whip which he
now drew back threateningly. “You’re coming with me to
see the Headmaster, whoever you are. I do not know how
you got in here, or you either,” he added as he espied
Mudge, “but you are not leaving without making proper
explanation. The rest of you,” he roared, “back to your
beds!”
The youngsters milled around uncertainly. Many of
them were starting to bawl.
” ‘Ere now, guv’nor, there’s no reason to get upset.”
Mudge toddled toward him, smiling broadly.
The whip cracked just in front of the otter’s nose. The
children started to scatter for their beds, whimpering loudly.
“Now, hold on there, friend.” Jon-Tom put his ramwood
staff in front of his chest. “Let’s be careful with that whip,
shall we?”
“Cute little gimcrack, snake master,” said Mudge, still
grinning and walking toward the monitor. The lynx eyed
his approach warily.
“That is far enough, trespasser. Take another step to-
ward me and I’ll have one of your eyes out.”
Mudge halted, threw up both hands and gaped at the