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Mulmun, the symbol of the springs. That is what we fight for control of.
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Whoever possesses the Mulmun has the right to control the springs."
"But isn't there enough here for both communities?
Can't you share?"
"Why share," replied the general, favoring him with an odd look, "when one can
have it all?"
"Because it makes more sense than slaughtering your neighbors."
"But we like slaughtering our neighbors, and our neighbors feel exactly the
same way about us," said the general easily.
"How do you know sharing wouldn't be better?
Have you ever tried sharing?"
"Absurd notion. We could never trust the Wittens.
Wouldn't dare to try. The minute our backs were turned, they'd cut our throats
and take control of
THE MOMBHT OF THE MAOJCIAW
89
the springs forever. If any of us survived, we'd never see the Mulmun again.
At least, not for another month."
"You only fight on the first of the month? Nobody ever tries a sneak attack on
the other side in the middle of an off week?"
The general looked indignant. "Certainly not! What do you think we are,
uncivilized barbarians? What an outrageous notion. Ah, we're home."
Ahead lay a hole in the side of a hill. The large, ornately carved wooden gate
had been flung wide to reveal the well-lit tunnel beyond. A line of sentries
stood drawn up in review on either side of the pathway. Other, much less
spectacularly decorated entrances were visible off to the left.
The general led Mudge and Jon-Tom inside. As usual, Jon-Tom was forced'to bend
in order to clear a local ceiling. Once out of the sun, the gophers and moles
in the group were able to remove their protec-
tive sunshades.
Before long they began to encounter noncombatants, citizens engaged in daily
chores. Greetings were ex-
changed between civilians and soldiers. Cubs tagged alongside, jabbering at
one another and occasionally pausing to engage in mock battles. Tunnels
appeared that branched off in all directions.
Eventually they turned right and entered a room with a ceiling high enough to
permit Jon-Tom to straighten. He pressed a hand gratefully against his
complaining lower back. There were half a dozen long tables in the room, each
decorated with neat, miniature place settings. Pennants Tiung from the rock
overhead, while spears and more exotic weap-
ons were attached to the walls. Fires burned in several fireplaces whose
chimneys had to reach all the way to the surface above. Kettles and pots
simmered over the flames.
Aim Dean Foster
90
"Officers' mess," General Pocknet informed them.
He directed them to the head table. Jon-Tom found a cushion and tried to
balance on it. The low table made the thought of trying a chair out of the
question.
Females brought out hors d'oeuvres, platters heaped high with fruit and nuts.
The general cracked one between his front teeth, tossed the shell into a com-
munal basket in the center of the long table, and gnawed on the nutmeat Soon
the room was filled with sharp cracking noises and Hying shells. Jon-
Tom felt like a kernel in a popcorn popper.
Mudge was trying to make conversation with one of the waitresses, so it was
left to Jon-Tom to engage the general.
"This war of yours, it's been going on like this, month after month, for a
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long time?"
"As far as history tells," Pocknet assured him.
"We're quite comfortable with the arrangement, and so are the Wittens. Gives
our lives continuity. All disputes between us are settled by control of the
Mulmun."
"Exactly what is this 'Mulmung'?"
" 'Mulmun,'" the general corrected him smoothly.
He pointed toward one of the fireplaces as he cracked another nut.
Resting on the mantel was a garishly colored, three-foot-high blob of
regurgitated ceramics, mostly maroon, pink, purple and glazed with pearlescent
white. It was possibly the ugliest piece of sculpture, if it could be
dignified by such a description, that
Jon-Tom had ever seen.
"That," said the general proudly, "is the Mulmun.
Whoever wins the battle on the first of each month retains it. It is the
symbol of the springs. While we hold it, the Wittens may not come near or make
use of the warm waters. We've held it for six months now, at great expense,
but it's been worth it."
THB MOMENT OF TVS MAGICIAW
91
Jon-Tom considered as he chewed on the contents of a long, thin nut. The meat
was delightfully sweet, which was good, because it had taken him at least four
minutes to break the tough shell.
"I think I understand. If you didn't possess the
Mulmun, then you'd have to relinquish your absolute control of the hot
springs."
The general nodded. "We carry it with us into battle each month. Should the
Wittens win, they would take it back to Witten with them and dominate the
springs for a month." He chuckled, obviously relishing his opponents'
discomforts. "They must be very filthy by now."
"I didn't see it during the fight."
"Do you think we'd risk putting it in danger?" the
general asked him, aghast. "The possessors display it in its special
container, well out of the way of the combatants' arms but up where all can
see it for inspiration. It is quite irreplaceable, quite."
"Ghastly piece o' puke, ain't it?" Mudge whispered to his friend. The otter
had found something alcohol-
ic to imbibe and was draining his mug as fast as the dainty prairie lass
nearby could refill it for him.
"Christ, watch your mouth!" Jon-Tom warned him anxiously. He smiled at the
general. "Being a strang-
er here, it's not for me to criticize your customs."
"Then don't," Pocknet advised him blandly. "Enjoy your meal and be on your
way- Now, tell me about your plans." He looked eagerly at his tall guest.
Jon-Tom regaled their hosts with tales of his many adventures, and the
underground citizens listened politely, for all that they thought he was the
biggest
Bar to come among them in many a moon. None, however, denied the amusement
value ofJon-Tom's rambling prevarications, and they applauded politely at the
conclusion of each anecdote.
The dinner also featured some live entertainment.
Alan Dean Foster
92
Several captive Wittens were dumped in the center of the room, hauled erect,
and tied to stakes so that the ladies, when not serving the tables, could pull
the unfortunate prisoners to pieces. Jon-Tom found that this diminished his
appetite considerably. His hosts seemed to find it uproariously amusing.
Several times Mudge had to lean over and warn his friend to keep his opinions
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to himself. You don't insult true believers in the middle of their own church.
Besides, hadn't they seen worse outrages in ^
their travels? Tomorrow they could leave, none the ^
worse for the experience. ^
So Jon-Tom smiled thinly and made a show of ^'
enjoying himself. There wasn't a damn thing he ^
could do about it anyway. The "entertainment" over. ^
everyone repaired to their respective bedchambers. ^
Their hosts even managed to rig a bed of sufficient length for Jon-Tom to
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