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No, many. But I do not understand the formula given, the purpose. The purpose
is to... to..." He turned a frightened
face upward. Jon-Tom shivered. He'd never before seen the wizard frightened.
Not when confronted by the Massawrafh, not when crossing Helldrink.
But he was more than frightened now. He was terrified.
"Must stop it!" he mumbled. "Got to stop him from completing the formula. Even
Eejakrat does not understand what he does. But he... I see it clearly... he is
desperate.
He will try anything. I do not think... do not think he can control..."
"What's the formula?" Flor pressed him.
"Complex ... can't understand..."
"Well then, the symbols you read on the deadmind
I containers."
"Can read them now, yes... but can't understand..."
"Try. Repeat them, anyway."
Clothahump went silent, and for a moment the two humans
I were afraid he wouldn't speak again. But Jon-Tom finally managed to shake
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him into coherence.
"Symbols... symbols say, 'Property.' "
"That's all?" Flor said puzzledly. "Just 'property'?"
"No... there is more. Property... property restricted ac-
cess. U.S. Army Intelligence."
Flor looked over at Jon-Tom. "That explains everything;
the parachutes, the tactics, the formula for the explosives to undermine the
wall, maybe the technique for doing it as well.
Los insectos have gotten hold of a military computer."
"That's why Clothahump tried to find an engineer to combat Eejakrat's 'new
magic,' " Jon-Tom muttered. "And
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Alan Dean Foster
he got me instead. And you." He gazed helplessly at her.
"What are we going to do? I don't know anything about computers."
"I know a little, but it's not a matter of knowing anything
about computers. Machine, man or insect, it has to be destroyed before
Eejakrat can finish his new formula."
"What the fuck could that devil have dug out of its electronic guts?" He
looked back down at Clothahump.
"Don't understand..." murmured the wizard. "Beyond my ken. But Eejakrat knows
how to comply. It worries him, but he proceeds. He knows if he does not the
war is lost."
"Someone's got to get over there and destroy the computer and its mentor,"
Jon-Tom said decisively. He called to the rest of their companions.
Mudge and Caz ambled over curiously. So did Bribbens, and Pog fluttered close
from his perch near the back of the wall. Hastily, Jon-Tom told them what had
to be done.
"Wot about the Ironclouders, wot?" Mudge indicated the diving shapes of the
great owls working their death up the
Pass. "I don't think they'd 'old you, mate, but I ought to be able to ride
one."
"I could go myself, boss." Clothahump turned a startled gaze on the
unexpectedly daring famulus.
"No. Not you, Pog, nor you, otter. You would never make it, I fear. Hundreds
of bowmen, a royal guard of the
Greendowns' most skilled archers, surround Eejakrat and the
Empress. You could not get within a quarter league of the deadmind. Even if
you could, what would you destroy it with? It is made of metal. You cannot
shoot an arrow through it. And there may be disciples of Eejakrat who could
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draw upon its evil knowledge in event of his death."
"We need a plane," Jon-Tom told them. "A Huey or some other attack copter,
with rockets."
Clothahump looked blankly at him. "I know not what you
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describe, spellsinger, but by the heavens if you can do anything you must
try."
Jon-Tom licked his lips. The Who, J. Geils, Dylan: none sang much about war
and its components. But he had to try something. He didn't know the Air Force
song....
"Try something, Jon-Tom," Flor urged him. "We don't
have much time."
Time. Time's getting away from us. There's your cue, man. Get there first.
Worry about how to destroy the thing then.
Trying to shut the sounds of fighting out of his thoughts, he ran his fingers
a couple of times across the duar's strings. The instrument had been nicked
and battered by arrows and spears, but it was still playable. He struggled to
recall the melody. It was simple, smooth, a Steve Miller hallmark. A
few adjustments to the duar's controls. It had to work. He turned tremble and
mass all the way up. Dangerous, but whatever materialized had to carry him
high above the com-
bat, all the way to me end of the Pass.
Anyway, Clothahump's urgency indicated that there was little time left now
either for finesse or fine tuning.
Just get me to that computer, he thought furiously. Just get me there safely
and I'll find some way to destroy it. Even pulling a few wires would do it.
Eejakrat couldn't repair the damage with magic ... could he?
And if he was killed and the attempt a failure, what did it matter? Talea was
dead and so was much of himself. Yes, that
was the answer. Crash whatever carries you and yourself into the computer.
That should do it.
Time was the first crucial element. Though he did not know it, he was soon to
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