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rear deck of the catamaran.
Jon-Tom guessed the number of paying passengers at forty, so there was plenty
of room to move about on what was essentially a cargo vessel. The crew was
helpful and unobtrusive.
Only Talea s absence prevented him from relaxing completely. As he was the
only human on the ship, he missed her more than ever.
They were three-quarters of the way to Orangel when Mudge came trudging up to
him.
Jon-Tom was sprawled across two deck chairs, soaking up the sun, but he sat up
fast when he got a look at his friend.
 Something wrong, Mudge?
The otter responded with a gargling noise that sounded vaguely like  Yeh.
 You don t look so good. He sat up and put a hand on the otter s shoulder,
gripping it
the waves the current would push the swimmers into the back net, whereupon
they would clamber out of the water and walk along a narrow catwalk until they
could dive back into the upper end of the net pool, thus repeating the
process.
 Don t you see her?
 Where? Jon-Tom leaned over the rail. There were a dozen passengers in the
nets. Then he saw one who was a blur in the water. As he watched she concluded
her swim and climbed the stairs leading to the main deck. There she shook
herself out, dried herself further with a towel, and snuggled down into an
empty deck chair to allow the sun to finish the job. She wore some flimsy
swimming costume which was more decoration than concealment.
Mudge had his elbows propped on the rail and his muzzle cupped in his paws.
 Now I ask you straight, mate, he said with a sigh,  did you ever see
anything o flesh an blood on this world or in any other that were  alf so
beautiful as that? As he spoke the object of his desire twisted in her chair,
plucked a lace handkerchief from a small bag and used it to dry her whiskers
one at a time.
Jon-Tom regarded the lady otter a moment longer before his attention was
caught by
Mudge s expression. The bemusement he had noted before remained, now butfered
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
by a peculiar intensity. It was not the standard gaze of unalloyed lechery he
was familiar with.
This was something different.
  Er name s Weegee. Mudge s voice was distant, unfocused.  She s a typical
forest products buyer on  er way  ome from a shoppin trip up the Tailaroam. I
believe the Earth, rotates around  er.
The otter s tone, his choice of words and his posture combined to make a
statement
Jon-Tom was not long in assessing. Only a natural disbelief caused him to
hesitate before noting the obvious. It was as if a basic law of nature had
been contravened, as though one of the great pyramids at Giza had crumbled to
dust in a single day.
 Mudge, you re in love.
 So good o you to notice. Not once did he take his eyes from the vision of
sleek brown-furred loveliness sprawled on the deck chair not far away.
Jon-Tom allowed the otter to lead him onto the central deck. The lady was
lying half asleep and Jon-Tom had to prod his companion to say something, as
it seemed Miidge would have been quite content simply to stand there and stare
until they docked in Orangel.
 Amber face, are you awake, luv?
She opened her eyes and quickly took in the both of them.  Hello, Mudge.
A sweet, seductive voice, Jon-Tom thought, one that curled around each vowel
as slickly as an otter would curl around a fish; toying with it, playing with
it before finally devouring it.
He was conscious of bottomless black eyes studying him intently.  This must be
the friend you spoke of. She half twisted, half jumped out of the deck chair,
gave one leg a final shake. Water droplets sparkled in the air.
 Come now, tall man, bend down and give us a kiss. Jon-Tom glanced
uncertainly at his companion, only to find Mudge grinning back at him. So he
bent over and tried to bestow a quick peck on one furry cheek. Much too fast
for him, she turned and treated him to a full otterish buss on the lips, which
consisted of a rapid-fire series of wet bewhis-kered smacks smelling vaguely
of mackerel. Contact with a cold black nose completed the extraordinary
sensation, not unlike having one s mouth attacked by a fishy jackhammer.
She pulled back and cocked her head sideways at him.  He s shy. You didn t say
he was shy.
  E s married an a spellsinger an  e s from another world. Wot did you
expect, luv?
Normalcy?
 Not from a spellsinger.
Straightforward as an arrow, Jon-Tom thought, shifting uncomfortably under
that uncompromising stare. Otters were not a subtle race. He watched as she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]