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friend. “That’s not fair, either. I’m going to ask him to feel for anything that might be out of balance. I’m sick of sitting around, helping with the housework and spellsinging away common childhood diseases and household infestations. I’m tired of working parties and graduations. I want the old thrill back, Mudge!”
    The otter looked thoughtful. “You mean the thrill of wonderin’ whether we were goin’ to be crushed like bugs or ’ave our throats slit or be ceremonially torn limb from limb? That sort o’ thrill? I says, good luck to you in your reminiscin’, mate.”
    â€œYou don’t mean that, Mudge. You’re as bored as I am.”
    â€œSure I am. I’m bleedin’ bored out o’ me wits, mate! But there’s kinds o’ excitement that don’t require riskin’ life an’ limb to experience.”
    â€œJust a small thing, Mudge,” Jon-Tom pleaded. “Something that wouldn’t require much traveling, and no real danger. Just a little change of pace, of locale, of venue.”
    â€œWot about Talea the thrice-beloved?”
    â€œI’ll leave her a note. She’ll understand.”
    â€œOh, sure she will. A note. I’ll invent one for Weegee, too.
    â€œBye, darlin’. Gone off adventurin’. Back before the end o’ next year. Don’t wait up. Oh, she’ll love that, she will.”
    â€œShe’ll cope.” Jon-Tom exuded false confidence. “They both will. It’s not like we haven’t gone off before.”
    â€œThink, mate. It’s been a while. A goodly while. I think where that kind o’ waitin’ is concerned, our spouses might be out o’ practice.”
    â€œI don’t have any choice in this, Mudge,” Jon-Tom explained earnestly. “It’s too much part and partial of who I am. Of what I am. And you can’t deny that you’re having the same feelings.” He rose from the low bed. “Come on.”
    â€œCome on?” The otter licked his lips. “Come on where, mate? ’Tis seven-thirty in the morn.”
    â€œSeven forty-two.” Jon-Tom paused at the bedroom door. “To see Clothahump, of course. Surely there’s something happening somewhere. Some lesser, casual causal catastrophe just waiting to be put right with a spellsong or two.”
    â€œSome tiny blade just waitin’ to slip between me ribs,” the otter groused. “I can see you ain’t goin’ to leave me be, so give me a minim to dress an’ I’ll sacrifice a perfectly good sleep-in to humor you.” He shook a short finger at his much taller friend. “But I’m warnin’ you, mate. I ain’t skippin’ away with some dumb smile on me face to watch you put life an’ limb in mortal danger to satisfy some ’idden mindless cravin’. Especially not me life an’ limb.”
    â€œNothing dangerous, Mudge. I promise. I have a wife and child to think of, too.”
    â€œOi. Now if you only ’ad a brain to go with ’em.” The otter cursed volubly as he fought to step into a pair of recalcitrant shorts.

Chapter 3
    THE GRAND OLD OAK still squatted serene and eternal in the middle of the glade. Twisted and gnarled, prodigious roots spread out from the base of the thick trunk to plunge forcefully into the ground, as if seeking to grip the very center of the Earth. The tree appeared stolid and immovable, unaffected by time or the forces of nature.
    Not unlike its occupant, Jon-Tom reflected as he and Mudge approached across the grass. Like his own home, the tree’s interior was far more spacious than seemed possible, the result of a most excellent dimension-expanding spell the old wizard had perfected in his youth.
    A terse cobblestone walkway led to the doorway. Jon-Tom halted before the entrance and reached for the button that protruded from the bark.
    â€œâ€™Ang on a minim,