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Yeah? Ow about me knowledge o physics an engineerin ? Like ow I can fit your square ead into a
round snake ole? He moved toward her.
Buncan held out his hands between them. Give it a rest, can t you? I m in agony and all you can do is
goof around.
Squill frowned at his friend. Ere now, you re really down, ain t you? He put a short arm around as
much of the human s back as he could manage, careful not to disturb the duar.
It s just that I m so bored there, Buncan explained. I want to do great things, to challenge the primary
forces of existence. I want to spellsing.
Uh-oh, muttered Neena, that again.
Nothin personal, mate, said Squill, but you can t sing well enough to inveigle a deaf dugong, much
less a primary force.
Yeah, well, you can t play a single-stringed bow, Buncan shot back.
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Squill raised both paws. Hey, I know that, mate.
Buncan gazed morosely at the ground. I keep fooling myself, telling myself I can get better. But deep
down I know I ll never be able to sing well enough to make magic.
At least you can play an instrument, said Neena. I wish I could play anythin .
Same ere, her brother confessed.
Buncan slid off the root and turned to face them. How can I execute spellsongs if I can t sing? How can
I save the world and rescue fair maidens if I can t work proper gramarye?
Ah! barked Neena. Now the truth comes out, it does. You re just like any other male.
He glared at her. Why do you always have to bring everything down to such a base and common level,
Neena? She batted her eyes at him enticingly. Because I m a base and common sort of lass, Buns.
He turned away from them. Dammit, I want to do something . . . something noble and elevating!
Squill tapped the growth on which he was sitting. We could climb this ere tree.
Exasperated, Buncan whirled on his friend. Can t you be serious for just a minute?
The otter considered carefully. Well now, that s a pretty heavy request, mate. He glanced at his sister.
But since you re about our best friend, we ll make an effort.
Thank you, said Buncan with exaggerated solemnity. You know, I can sing well enough to make
magic. I just can t sing well enough to control it.
Don t sound like a very promisin weapon with which to take on the primal forces. This time Squill
didn t smile. An I wouldn t rely on your swordwork to get you out o any scrapes. I ve seen you work
with a sword.
You re no match for your father yourself.
S truth, Mudge still wields a quick blade,
Neena agreed. Even if ol Daddy-whiskers is gettin a bit wide in the gut.
You d better not let him hear you say that, Buncan warned her. He ll blister your butt. He walked
over and rested both hands on the root. I can do this. I can spellsing. If I could only find a way to
improve my vocalizations.
Neena tickled him, and he jumped. Well, you d best be careful with it, Bunkle. Like me brother says,
you re about the best non-otter friend we ave. You kill yourself and we won t ave no one better to
tease. She exchanged a glance with Squill. Want to see somethin really interestin ?
What? He tried not to sound too indifferent, knowing she was doing her best to try to cheer him up.
From a pocket in the lower part of her vest she extracted a flat, squarish black box. A small transparent
window was set in the slightly domed top. Intrigued, Buncan took a closer look. His eyes widened as
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soon as he recognized it.
Hey, that looks like . . .!
Neena nodded vigorously. The CD player your father brought back from his world on his last visit there
and gave to Mudge.
Buncan was appalled. If your parents knew you d taken that from the den they d shave you front and
back.
Her whiskers twitched. Bloody right. But they don t know. She winked at her brother. Mudge didn t
teach us all is of techniques for nothin .
They ardly ever let us use it, added Squill, so we just sort of appropriated it for the afternoon.
The only problem is that we can t get it to work. Neena fingered the black rectangle. Somethin
about it needin some magic installed before it ll play. Mudge says it needs better days.
Batteries, Buncan corrected her. I ve watched Jon-Tom use them at our tree. They re four little
magically charged cylinders that fit in here. See? He turned the rectangle over and showed them the
compartment and the four cylinders nestled like larvae within. The spell runs down and Dad has to
revitalize it before it ll work again. I don t remember the exact words to the spell. Something about a
rabbit that keeps going. He shrugged as he reseated the cylinder compartment.
Neena considered. Ere now, Bunco, if you re any kind o spellsinger at all, you ought to be able to
recharge a simple little spell like this.
Jolly right! Squill took the player and set it down on the ground. Get on it, mate.
Now wait a minute. Buncan looked uneasy. This involves some serious magic. Electrons and rabbits
and all kinds of stuff. I don t know if I should be messing with Mudge s property.
Neena sniffed disdainfully. An you want to rescue damsels and battle evil. Right.
But this is a device from the Otherworld.
Blimey, give it a try, Buncan, Squill implored his friend. Ow bad can you bung it up?
Well . . . He slid the duar off his back and plucked hesitantly at the double set of strings. A soft golden
glow began to coalesce at the place where the strings intersected. This is risky.
You think you won t meet any risks on a quest? Neena challenged him. Come on, you can do it.
Taking a deep breath, he began to sing. The instrumental accompaniment was exalting, exquisitely
rendered, but the words . . . It was a struggle for the otters to keep their paws off their ears.
The CD player twitched a couple of times, but did not otherwise react.
After his best effort drew forth only a brief whine from the device s tiny internal speaker, Buncan let his
fingers fall from the duar. There, you see? he said angrily. I told you it wouldn t work.
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You play beautifully, Bunky, Neena told bun.
The trio regarded the quiescent player regretfully, until Squill unexpectedly let out a yip of inspiration.
Oi! I ve an idea, I ave!
Now there s an odd notion, said Neena.
Squill ignored her. Me sister and me, we ave wonderful voices, we do. An we re bloomin quick with
wordplay.
He twirled a whisker. Otters are quick with everythin .
I ave to admit that this one time me squish-brained brother appens to be right, Neena agreed.
Though I don t see is point.
Don t you get it? Squill eyed Buncan eagerly. Wot if you played an we took care o the singin ?
Don t be ridiculous. Spellsinging s not a cooperative enterprise.
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