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hell of a headache), Jon-Tom stumbled off in that direction, trying to follow the sounds to their source.
They led him to a fallen log that the otter was embracing tightly, his face wreathed in a smile of
languorous ecstasy. As soon as he saw what the otter was doing, Jon-Tom swallowed hard and turned
away. During their travels Mudge had done absurd things, impractical things, even moderately disgusting
things, but this-he tried to shut out the image that lingered in his mind as he considered what to do next.
Clothahump was the only one who looked half like himself. Jon-Tom walked up to the wizard and put a
hand on his arm. He shook it hard.
"Wake up, sir! I don't know where you are now, but you aren't where you're at. Please, Clothahump,
answer me."
The wizard ignored him. Trying to remember exactly how he'd returned to reality, Jon-Tom tried to
reposition his fingers the same way on the duar. Taking a deep breath, he strummed a few chords without
having the slightest idea what he might be playing,
It didn't sound very pleasant, but maybe that was part of it. The wizard blinked, much as Jon-Tom had
blinked. A startled expression came over his face.
"What, who's that, what?" He finally focused on Jon-Tom, who was standing over him looking
concerned. "Oh, it's you, my boy. What is it?"
"Clothahump, where are you? Right now, this instant?"
"Now? Why, I am in the Library, of course! The great Library. What a wonder it is! I am so glad you
have found it, too, my boy. I shall require all the help I can get in the many years ahead." He displayed
the weathered hunk of shale he was holding. "See, I have found the key already. Here is the first page of
the index, clearly defined for any who cares to look, and easy even for the uninitiated to read." He started
to wave it toward something in front of him. He paused halfway through the wave, staring straight ahead
as if paralyzed.
"Clothahump? Sir, are you all right?"
Another moment of silence, followed by a whisper of resignation. "There is no Library here, is there?"
"No, sir." The wizard's expression was pitiful to behold. "I'm sorry, sir. It was an illusion. I experienced
one myself. I still don't know if I came out of it because it had run its course or because I happened to hit
the right notes on the duar."
"Not an illusion, my boy." The turtle swallowed hard. "A perturbation. Another cursed, damnable,
cheating perturbation. You didn't see it, then? The Library?"
"No, sir. My illusion was different. I was standing on a stage, performing, at the summit of my
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profession. A beautiful dream. The fulfillment of all my most heartfelt desires. I had everything I'd ever
wanted."
"And I as well. This time the perturbation drew on our innermost selves for its trickery." He looked
down at the piece of shale, then irritably tossed it aside. "We are all fools."
"No, sir. Being fooled doesn't make us fools. The perambulator affects geniuses as well as idiots."
Clothahump smiled up at him. "You are trying to make me feel better, my boy. It isn't working, but it is
appreciated. Give me a hand up." Jon-Tom did so. Then the wizard gave vent to as great a display of
frustration as Jon-Tom had ever seen. Clothahump often grew incensed at others. Sorbl in particular. But
never at himself. So Jon-Tom understood the depth of the wizard's disappointment when he kicked the
shale hard, sending it bouncing down the trail.
"I feel better for that. My foot does not, but the rest of me does. I was in a Library, my boy. Such a
library as has never existed. It contained within its shelves all the knowledge of everything that is, ever
was, and ever would be. A Library of the past, the present, and the future. All the answers were
contained within its walls. That's what I've dreamed about, what I've wanted all my life, my boy. A little
wisdom and a few answers. It is not nice to be cheated by a phenomenon of un-nature." He sighed
deeply. "What of the others?"
Jon-Tom gestured to his left, then up toward Colin's branch. "As you can see, sir, they're still all suffering
from their individual perturbations. Their respective illusions must have a stronger hold on them than yours
or mine did on us."
"Do not flatter yourself that your will or knowledge of reality is any stronger. You needed the music to
bring me back to myself. I suspect you needed it to shock you back as well."
Jon-Tom shrugged. "You're probably right, sir. A little rock goes a long way."
The wizard growled. "Don't talk to me about rocks. Come, we have work to do. You use your
spellsinging and I will employ my magic."
Jon-Tom chose to revive Dormas. She was deeply embarrassed despite his assurances that she
shouldn't feel that way. They had all of them been equally bewitched. Nonetheless, she insisted on trotting
off to recover and to suffer in peace. She also spent more than an hour walking back and forth through
the forest, searching for the emerald meadow of clover and flowers and finding only dirt and scrub. Thus
satisfied, she located a small mountain pool and thoroughly doused herself. From all the rolling about
she'd done in her imaginary field, she was filthy from forehead to fetlock. The dirt washed off, but the
anger and embarrassment did not.
Jon-Tom set about trying to put their supplies back into some kind of order while Clothahump sought to
magic some reality into his famulus. When magic didn't quite do the trick, the wizard began slapping the
owl back and forth across his muddy beak. Perhaps it was the lingering magic, perhaps the slaps, or
maybe the combination. In any case, Sorbl returned to them. Returned to them as drunk as if his
perturbation had been real. Apparently certain mental effects were not as easily shaken off.
Finishing with the supplies, Jon-Tom climbed the big pine and got a firm grip on Colin. The koala was
mumbling mantras to himself as he chewed on the pine needles, and Jon-Tom had to shake him hard
while trying to play the right notes on the duar. Colin must have had a stronger grasp on reality than the
rest of them because he snapped back immediately.
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