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thousand tiny tuning forks attuned to an unnatural disturbance of vast
potency.
Maybe, Buncan thought, starting to sweat a little, maybe this could get out of
hand.
The otters rapped on, oblivious to his concern.
A portion of the bank beneath him collapsed and he half tumbled, half slid off
the boulder, scrambling madly in search of more solid ground. That he never
missed a beat on the duar was a credit more to his physical than mental
resiliency. On the far side of the Shortstub, cracks appeared in the hitherto
stable bank as soil and sand crumbled into the water, leaving damp V-shaped
scars behind.
Something stupendous was coalescing within the fog. Something slick of flank
and commodious of bulk. A fish, as Squill and Neena had demanded. A fish, but
bigger than any Buncan had ever seen. Bigger than any he had ever imagined. He
played on mechanically, mesmerized by the vision, unable to stop.
As it jutted out of the mist, loomed above it, seriously disturbed the waters
beneath, one thing became quickly apparent. It was not a fish.
He raised his voice. Hey! You guys can stop rapping now. He pointed.
They d been singin He pointed.
They d been singin Now they turned, following his gesture. Sister, Squill
murmured through a long, eloquent whistle, while I ve been on occasion amazed
by your appetite, I didn t realize you were quite this ungry.
The conjuration nearly filled the river from bank to bank. It was twenty times
as long as Buncan was tall and must have weighed as much or more than the
combined population of Lynchbany, with that of a few outlying farms and maybe
a small suburb or two thrown in for good measure. In color it was a light blue
on top, a whitish slate-
gray underneath. White spots splotched the striated lower jaw. A lurch of its
massive tail sent a miniature tidal wave crashing against the far bank. Water
plants and fish flew in all directions.
An eye that was small only comparatively located them. The immense skull
struggled to turn in their direction, but was constrained by a combination of
the green fog and the narrowness of the river channel.
LET ME GUESS. The voice rumbled and reverberated like a great bell. YOU
THREE WOULDN T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY BEING HERE, WOULD
YOU?
Ummmm . . . Squill jerked a finger in his sister s direction. It were all
er idea.
Wot? she squeaked, outraged.
Well, you were the one who were so bleedin ungry!
Instantly they were clamped in furious internecine combat, rolling about on
the now
soggy riverbank, flailing and kicking and scratching and biting at one
another.
Otters. Buncan smiled wanly, as though this explained everything.
I CAN SEE THAT. The grievously displaced blue whale spoke with immense
gravity. THE POINT IS, I SEEM TO BE MISSING AN OCEAN. THERE S NOT
REALLY ENOUGH WATER HERE TO SUPPORT ME, AND I M ALREADY
HAVING A BIT OF DIFFICULTY BREATHING. SO IF YOU DON T MIND . . .
?
Buncan swallowed. Uh, what happens if we can t put you back?
WHY, THEN YOU HAVE A VERY LARGE CORPSE TO DISPOSE OF AND A
BLOOD FEUD WITH ALL MY BRETHREN.
Since Buncan had from time to time entertained thoughts of traveling upon the
sea, and since this desire might be rendered difficult to fulfill if every
great whale upon the waters was made of a mind to kill him, he thought it wise
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to do his best to prevent that condition from coming about. Preferably as soon
as possible.
It was an accident. He tried to explain, gesturing in Neena s direction. My
friend was hungry and wanted a fish.
DO I LOOK LIKE A FISH? inquired the sulphurbottom.
Only marginally.
WOULD IT NOT BE INCORRECT OF ME TO ASSUME THAT MY
INVOLUNTARY PLACEMENT IN THIS INSIGNIFICANT ESTUARY IS THE
RESULT OF SORCERY GONE AWRY?
Like I said, it was an accident. Despite the whale s intimidating size and
manner, Buncan held his ground. After all, it wasn t likely to burst from the
river and come running after them (he hoped).
Certainly, they had to save it by sending it back where it had come from. He
couldn t stand the thought of having its death on his hands. His conscience
wouldn t stand for it.
Besides, his father might find out.
Don t worry. We ll send you back. I m not entirely sure how we brought you
here, but we ll send you back. As soon as I can get my friends to stop trying
to kill each other.
I SHOULD APPRECIATE THAT, boomed the whale.
Though it was not unlike trying to unwind a hurricane, Buncan managed to
separate the otters. Squill glared at his sister, recovered his precious hat,
and taunted her as she struggled to make sense of her makeup.
Go on, he urged her, tell our guest ow you really wanted to eat him.
Go sit on your face. She looked to Buncan as she brushed dirt and grass from
her clothes. Ow do we send this back to the deep ocean, spellsinger?
Buncan mumbled a reply. You two came up with the lyrics that brought it
here.
I was ungry. I m inspired when I m ungry. I thought our singin would get
us a little bitty somethin out o the river. Not this bloody great mass o
blubber.
IT IS ASSISTANCE I REQUIRE, NOT FLATTERY. The otters conferred, finally
nodding at Buncan, who began to play with more hope than assurance. Perhaps
because they were becoming more confident, or perhaps out of fear of what
Mudge would do to them if they failed, they rapped with greater facility than
ever before.
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