with the necessary medicine. Perhaps after he has weakened
enough my master will take pity on him and travel south to
allow him the privilege of begging for his help.”
“Clothahump would never do that,” Jon-Tom assured
the coati. “He’ll spit in Zancresta’s face before he asks his
help.”
“Then I imagine he will die.” The coati spoke without
emotion. “It is of no import to me. I only serve my
master.”
“Yes, you’re a good slave.”
The coati moved closer to the wagon and slapped the
sideboard angrily. “I am no slave!”
“A slave is one who unquestioningly carries out the
orders of his master without considering the possible
consequences.”
“I know the consequences of what I do.” Chenelska
glowered at him, no longer friendly. “Of one consequence
I am sure. I will emerge from this little journey far better
ofif than you. You think you’re smart, man? I was instruct-
ed in all the tricks a spellsinger can play. You can make
only music with your voice and not magic without your
instrument. If I choose to cut your throat, I will be safer
still.
“As for the water rat that accompanies you, it may be
that the master will free him. If he does so, I will be
waiting for him myself, to greet him as is his due.” With
that, the coati left them, increasing his stride to again
assume his place at the head of the little procession.
44
Alan Dean Foster
“I’m beginnin’ to wish you’d left me at Madam Lorsha’s,”
the otter said later that night.
“To Tork’s tender mercies?” Jon-Tom snorted. “You’d
be scattered all over Timswitty by now if I hadn’t shown