finish and I couldn’t do a thing to stop you from doing
so.”
The jailer considered, wrestling with unfamiliar con-
cepts. Jon-Tom and Mudge waited breathlessly, glad of the
darkness. It helped to conceal their anxiety.
“Yes, I think that would be safe enough,” the jailer said
finally. “And I am curious to hear you sing. I will see if
your instrument is with your other possessions. While I
look for the sack of gold.”
“You won’t regret it!” Jon-Tom called after him as he
disappeared up the stairway. As soon as he’d left, Mudge
looked excitedly at his friend.
“Cor, mate, can you really do anythin’ tied like that?”
“I don’t know. I have to try. It’s clear he wasn’t just
going to hand me the duar without some kind of safeguard.
I just don’t know what I could sing that could help us out
of here before he decided it sounded threatening and took
the duar away from me. Not that I ever know what to sing.
48
Alan Dean Foster
I had the same problem in my own world. But it was all I
could think of.”
“You better think o’ somethin’, mate, or it’ll be two
worlds that’ll be missin’ you permanent. I don’t know
what this Zancresta has planned for us, but as much as ‘e
hates Clothahump, I don’t figure on ‘im bein’ overly polite
to a couple o* the turtle’s servants.”
“We’re not his servants. At least, you’re not.”
“Aye, an’ you saw ‘ow far that got me with Chenelska,
I’m stuck with the bedamned label just like you are, like it
or not. So think of somethin’. Somethin’ effective, and
fast.”
“I don’t know.” Jon-Tom fought with his memory.