Spell of Intrigue | Page 4

direction with a sharpness that implied he'd had this move in
mind from the start, springing forward first to a firm-footed crouch,
then to a clinch directly up against the charging Lion's chest, and then,

grasping the towel still dangling around the Lion's neck and giving it a
twist and a stiff enough yank to bring a flush of sudden purple to the
Lion's face, and using his pull on the towel to amplify his vertical
momentum, flipped himself head-over-heels over the Lion's shoulder as
the Lion catapulted forward toward the floor.
Max landed atop the sideboard, carefully keeping his feet clear of the
food. The clang of the Lion's sword against the floor was followed
immediately by the familiar sound of the rest of the Lion joining it.
"Acrobats, " said the Lion in a muffled voice. "I've always detested
acrobats. Rabbits, the bunch of them, always hopping out of your way."
"I keep telling you," said Max, "agility can outmaneuver the mass of a
broadsword any day."
The Lion sprang back to his feet with a fair show of agility on his own
part and retrieved his slice of corned beef from its perch on a wall
sconce. "Tell the world about it," he said. "Acrobatics are fine if
everything falls out just right. If not, you've just set yourself up for the
strike of death." As he swung back toward the sideboard, he saw Max
standing on it, his arms folded, tapping one foot next to a bowl filled
with roasted potatoes. "Oh, all right," the Lion said, "I'm finished for
today. Go ahead and make yourself a sandwich.
"Never fit will," said a croaking voice from beneath the table, "this."
Something black and leathery moved behind one of the table legs,
virtually lost at the back of the cabin in the shadows cast by the single
lamp hanging by a chain from the ceiling. A wooden crate grated
raspingly along the deck boards under the table and then crunched up
against the wall.
"It does seem, if I may be so bold, that we have been spending the
majority of our effort on merely moving the household from one
location to the next," another voice remarked from just outside the door.
A large heap of books precariously bound up with a net appeared in the
doorway, followed by the speaker, who was attempting to balance the
volumes in a pair of unnaturally long and slender arms that appeared to
be wrapped so securely around the bundle that they were bending not

only at the elbows but also, although that was certainly an illusion,
midway down the exaggerated forearms as well. The skin of the
exposed forearms was colored a more than incidentally greenish hue.
A muttering black cloak emerged from underneath the table and
scuttled off to the side as the taller figure let the books subside with a
heavy thump onto its upper surface. The top of the cloak's hood was
barely higher than the level of the tabletop, revealing that working
under the table was no serious inconvenience to its wearer. "Job did
take I not with sole purpose furniture to arrange," said the mutterer.
A third being, this one human, had been sitting at the table in question
trying desperately to remain engrossed in deciphering a letter. This
being looked up from the heap of netted books which had just
entombed said letter to a depth precluding immediate recovery. "What
was that, Haddo?" he said, with an air of resigned disorientation.
"The matter on which Master Haddo was commenting," said the
green-skinned one, stretching out his kinked arms, "was that of the
purely menial activities to which our employment with you has led us
of late."
"Plainly can speak for myself I," Haddo croaked. "Intercessor for need
nil is." The hood swiveled to peer accusingly upward, revealing a
continued expanse of fuliginous black broken only by two glowing
orange sparks at around the right position for eyes. "Speaks yet
Wroclaw truth."
"Oh, come on now," said the man at the table. "You know the situation.
You know I'm not real fond of it myself."
"Yet sit you table at," said Haddo, "while heavy bundles drag we."
"But I'm the boss," the Great Karlini pointed out. "I'm supposed to sit at
tables and think. You're supposed to handle things like packing and
lifting, that's what I hired you for."
Wroclaw gave a discreet cough. "Not quite true, if I may remind you,

sir."
"Said not you, 'For all is one, and for one is all'?" Haddo grumbled
indignantly.
"If you don't like the job, Haddo, you're not bound to it," said Karlini.
"I don't own you; you're more than welcome to take off and go back to
wherever you came from. Where was that, by the way?"