Free Chorus Skating by Alan Dean Foster Page A

ravening horde to drive their attackers from the ravine, but instead nothing more elaborate than a single modestly intimidating specter he could control. Just enough to terrify the bandits into fleeing.
    An outline began to take shape on the far side of the fire, between the bandits and their chosen victims. This was sufficient to convince all but the ocelot to take several prudent steps backward. Their leader defiantly held his ground.
    â€œTrickery! All smoke and light, can’t you see?” he shouted at his unnerved companions. “Any carnival conjurer could do as well.”
    â€œSee, look and see there!” stammered the raccoon.
    Something squat and solid was solidifying within the growling, swirling nimbus that emanated from the duar’s lambent nexus. The attendant atmospheres began to dissipate, leaving behind … an owl. An owl neatly attired in a gray, freshly pressed, pin-striped suit. Matching tie, watch fob, and horn-rimmed glasses completed and complemented the overall presentation.
    It wasn’t even a very big owl. Even the squirrel was taller.
    The ocelot nodded approvingly. “So I was wrong. Apparently there are such creatures as spellsingers, and you manifestly are one.” He grinned, showing sharp teeth. “You’re simply not much of a spellsinger.” He beckoned to his followers. “See, there is nothing here to be afeared of! This apparition is not even armed.”
    â€œNo, wait.” The capuchin gestured frantically as his companions started forward. “Surely it is carrying something.”
    Reaching back with a prehensile wingtip, the owl had brought forth a slim briefcase fashioned of smooth black leather. It brandished this enigmatic device threateningly at the ocelot.
    The cat laughed, a high-pitched cough. With a determined effort he raised the blade of the massive sword off the ground. “First I will dispatch this avian interloper.” His eyes blazed across the fire. “Then I will cut off your legs. We’ve done fair by you and given several chances. Now let the blood flow!”
    â€œOf course.” Peering through thick glasses, the owl fumbled inside the briefcase. “But before we can move on to that, I am afraid you will first have to fill this out.”
    Eyeing the paper uncertainly, the ocelot hesitated. “Fill what out? What are you talking about?”
    â€œForm XL-3867-B1,” the owl explained apologetically. “Permitting random acts of assault and mayhem on the person of not more than six nor less than one innocent traveler. I assure you it includes the appropriate attempted robbery and looting subrider.”
    â€œI don’t have to fill out anything except my purse,” the spotted cat growled. “We don’t need no stinking forms.” With that he raised the sword high. “I will fill my bed with your feathers!”
    Quickly the owl reached a second time into the briefcase. “In that case,” it declared, waving this time a whole sheaf of clipped-together papers, “I am required to advise you to read these three official pamphlets warning you of the penalties incurrable for committing the aforementioned referenced assault and mayhem without filling out Form XL-3867-B1 beforehand. Should you fail to do so, your permit to wield mayhem-related weaponry will be automatically withdrawn, as per the proper and appropriate statutes.”
    Looking slightly dazed, the ocelot paused, the massive blade drooping slightly in his hands.
    â€œFurthermore,” the owl went on, dipping yet again into the bottomless briefcase, “there are a number of other relevant forms that really should be completed prior to initiating any inimical activities, in addition to papers for ethereally notifying next of kin on both sides, in the event any actual deaths should occur.” He adjusted his glasses. “I would also highly recommend filling out a complete environmental impact