{"id":4088,"date":"2026-01-04T00:06:49","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T00:06:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/spellsinger-03-the-day-of-the-dissonance-foster-alan-dean\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T00:06:49","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T00:06:49","slug":"spellsinger-03-the-day-of-the-dissonance-foster-alan-dean","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/spellsinger-03-the-day-of-the-dissonance-foster-alan-dean\/","title":{"rendered":"Spellsinger 03 – The Day of the Dissonance – Foster, Alan Dean"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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“I’m dying,” Clothahump wheezed. The wizard glanced<\/p>\n

to his left. ‘Tm dying and you stand there gawking like a<\/p>\n

virginal adolescent who’s just discovered that his blind<\/p>\n

date is a noted courtesan. With your kind of help I’ll never<\/p>\n

live to see my three-hundredth birthday.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“With your kind of attitude it’s a wonder you’ve man-<\/p>\n

aged to live this long.” Jon-Tom was more than a little<\/p>\n

irritated at his mentor. “Listen to yourself: two weeks of<\/p>\n

nonstop griping and whining. You know what you are,<\/p>\n

turtle of a wizardly mien? You’re a damned hypochondriac.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clothahump’s face did not permit him much of a frown,<\/p>\n

but he studied the tall young human warily. “What is that?<\/p>\n

It sounds vaguely like a swear word. Don’t toy with me,<\/p>\n

boy, or it will go hard on you. What is it? Some magic<\/p>\n

word from your own world?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“More like a medical word. It’s a descriptive term, not<\/p>\n

a threat. It refers to someone who thinks they’re sick all<\/p>\n

the time, when they’re not.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, so I’m imagining that my head is fragmenting, is<\/p>\n

that what you’re saying?” Jon-Tom resisted the urge to<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

2\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

reply, sat his six-feet-plus frame down near the pile of<\/p>\n

pillows that served the old turtle for a bed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Not for the first time he wondered at the number of<\/p>\n

spacious rooms the old oak tree encompassed. There were<\/p>\n

more alcoves and chambers and tunnels in that single trunk<\/p>\n

than in a termite’s hive.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He had to admit, though, that despite his melodramatic<\/p>\n

moans and wails, the wizard didn’t look like himself. His<\/p>\n

plastron had lost its normal healthy luster, and the old eyes<\/p>\n

behind the granny glasses were rheumy with tears from the<\/p>\n

pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so abrupt. If<\/p>\n

Clothahump couldn’t cure himself with his own masterly<\/p>\n

potions and spells, then he was well and truly ill.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know what I am,” Clothahump continued, “but<\/p>\n

what of you? A fine spellsinger you’ve turned out to be.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m still learning,” Jon-Tom replied defensively. He<\/p>\n

fingered the duar slung over his shoulder. The peculiar<\/p>\n

instrument enabled him to sing spells, to make magic<\/p>\n

through the use of song. One might think it a dream come<\/p>\n

true for a young rock guitarist-cum-law student, save for<\/p>\n

the fact that he didn’t seem to have a great deal of control<\/p>\n

‘ over the magic he made.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Since the onslaught of Clothahump’s pains, Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

had sung two dozen songs dealing with good health and<\/p>\n

good feelings. None had produced the slightest effect with<\/p>\n

the exception of his spirited rendition of the Beach Boys’<\/p>\n

“Good Vibrations.” That bit of spellsinging caused<\/p>\n

Clothahump to giggle uncontrollably, sending powders and<\/p>\n

potions flying and cracking his glasses.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Following that ignominious failure, Jon-Tom kept his<\/p>\n

hands off the duar and made no further attempts to cure the<\/p>\n

wizard.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I didn’t really mean to imply that you’re faking it,” he<\/p>\n

added apologetically. “It’s just that I’m as frustrated as<\/p>\n

you are.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clothahump nodded, his breath coming in short, labored<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>3<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

gasps. His poor respiration was a reflection of the constant<\/p>\n

pain he was suffering, as was his general weakness.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I did the best I could,” Jon-Tom murmured.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know you did, my boy. I know you did. As you say,<\/p>\n

there is much yet for you to learn, many skills still to<\/p>\n

master.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m just bulling my way through. Half the time I pick<\/p>\n

the wrong song and the other half it has the wrong result.<\/p>\n

What else can I do?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clothahump looked up sharply. “There is one chance<\/p>\n

for me, lad. There is a medicine which can cure what ails<\/p>\n

me now. Not a spell, not a magic. A true medicine.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom rose from the edge of the pile of pillows. “I<\/p>\n

think I’d better be going. I haven’t practiced yet today and<\/p>\n

I need to…”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clothahump moaned in pain and Jon-Tom hesitated,<\/p>\n

feeling guilty. Maybe it was a genuine moan and maybe it<\/p>\n

wasn’t, but it had the intended effect.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You must obtain this medicine for me, my boy. I can’t<\/p>\n

trust the task to anyone else. Evil forces are afoot.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom sighed deeply, spoke resignedly. “Why is it<\/p>\n

whenever you want something, whether it’s help making it<\/p>\n

to the bathroom or a snack or someone to go on a<\/p>\n

dangerous journey for you, that evil forces are always<\/p>\n

afoot?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You ever see an evil force, boy?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not in the flesh, no.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Evil forces always go afoot. They’re lousy fliers.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s not what I meant.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Doesn’t matter what you meant, my boy. You have to<\/p>\n

run this errand for me. That’s all it is, a little errand.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Last time you asked me to help you run an errand we<\/p>\n

ended up with the fate of civilization at stake.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, this time it’s only my fate that hangs in the<\/p>\n

balance.” His voice shrank to a pitiful whisper. “You<\/p>\n

wouldn’t want me to die, would you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No,” Jon-Tom admitted. “I wouldn’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

4\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Of course you wouldn’t. Because if I die it means the<\/p>\n

end of your chances to return to your own world. Because<\/p>\n

only I know the necessary, complicated, dangerous spell<\/p>\n

that can send you back. It is in your own interest to see<\/p>\n

that I remain alive and well.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know, I know. Don’t rub it in.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Furthermore,” the wizard went on, pressing his advan-<\/p>\n

tage, “you are partly to blame for my present discomfort.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What!” Jon-Tom whirled on the bed. “I don’t know<\/p>\n

what the hell you’ve got, Clothahump, but I certainly<\/p>\n

didn’t give it to you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“My illness is compounded of many factors, not the<\/p>\n

least of which are my current awkward living conditions.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom frowned and leaned on his long ramwood staff.<\/p>\n

“What are you talking about?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ever since we returned from the great battle at the<\/p>\n

Jo-Troom Gate my daily life has been one unending litany<\/p>\n

of misery and frustration. All because you had to go and<\/p>\n

turn my rude but dutiful famulus Pog into a phoenix.<\/p>\n

Whereupon he promptly departed my service for the dubi-<\/p>\n

ous pleasures his falcon ladylove could bestow on him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Is it my fault you’ve had a hard time replacing him?<\/p>\n

That’s hardly a surprise, considering the reputation you got<\/p>\n

for mistreating Pog.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I did not mistreat Pog,” the wizard insisted. “I treated<\/p>\n

him exactly as an apprentice should be treated. It’s true<\/p>\n

that I had to discipline him from time to time. That was<\/p>\n

due to his own laziness and incompetence. All part of the<\/p>\n

learning process.” Clothahump straightened his new glasses.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Pog spread the details of your teaching methods all<\/p>\n

over the Betlwoods. But 1 thought the new famulus you<\/p>\n

finally settled on was working out okay.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ha! It just goes to show what can happen when you<\/p>\n

don’t read the fine print on someone’s resume. It’s too late<\/p>\n

now. I’ve made him my assistant and am bound to him, as<\/p>\n

he is to me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What’s wrong? I thought he was brilliant.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>5<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He can be. He can be studious, efficient, and eager to<\/p>\n

learn.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sounds good to me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Unfortunately, he has one little problem.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What kind of problem?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clothahump’s reply was interrupted by a loud, slurred<\/p>\n

curse from the room off to the left. The wizard gestured<\/p>\n

with his head toward the doorway, looked regretful.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Go see for yourself, my boy, and understand then what<\/p>\n

a constant upset my life has become.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom considered, then shrugged and headed under<\/p>\n

the arched passageway toward the next chamber, bending<\/p>\n

low to clear the sill. He was so much taller than most of<\/p>\n

the inhabitants of this world that his height was an ever-<\/p>\n

present problem.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Something shattered and there was another high-pitched<\/p>\n

curse. He held his ramwood staff protectively in front of<\/p>\n

him as he emerged into the storeroom.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was as spacious as Clothahump’s bedroom and the<\/p>\n

other chambers which somehow managed to coexist within<\/p>\n

the trunk of the old oak. Pots, tins, crates, and beakers full<\/p>\n

of noisome brews were carefully arranged on shelves and<\/p>\n

workbenches. Several bottles lay in pieces on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Standing, or rather weaving, in the midst of the break-<\/p>\n

age was Sorbl, Clothahump’s new famulus. The young<\/p>\n

great homed owl stood slightly over three feet tall. He<\/p>\n

wore a thin vest and a brown and yellow kilt of the Ule<\/p>\n

Clan.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He spotted Jon-Tom, waved cheerily, and fell over on<\/p>\n

his beak. As he struggled to raise himself on flexible<\/p>\n

wingtips, Jon-Tom saw that the vast yellow eyes were<\/p>\n

exquisitely bloodshot.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hello, Sorbl. You know who I am?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The owl squinted at him as he climbed unsteadily to his<\/p>\n

feet, staggered to port, and caught himself on the edge of<\/p>\n

‘the workbench.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

6<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Shure I remember you,” he said thickly. “You… you’re<\/p>\n

that spielsunger… spoilsanger. …”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Spellsinger,” Jon-Tom said helpfully.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thas what I said. You’re that what I said from another<\/p>\n

world that the master brought through to hulp him against<\/p>\n

the Pleated Filk.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“The master is not feeling well.” He put his staff aside.<\/p>\n

“And you’re not looking too hot either.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hooo, me?” The owl looked indignant, walked away<\/p>\n

from the bench wavering only slightly. “I am perfectly<\/p>\n

fine, thank you.” He glanced back at the bench. “Is just<\/p>\n

that I was looking for a certain bottle.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What bottle?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not marked, thish one.” Sorbl looked conspiratorial<\/p>\n

and winked knowingly with one great bloodshot eye.<\/p>\n

“Medicinal liquid. Not for his ancientness in there. My<\/p>\n

bottle,” he finished, suddenly belligerent. “Nectar.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nectar? I thought owls liked mice.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What?” said the outraged famulus. For an instant<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom had forgotten where he was. The rodents here-<\/p>\n

abouts were as intelligent and lively as any of the other<\/p>\n

citizens of this world. “If I tried to take a bite out of a<\/p>\n

mouse, his relatives would come string me up. I’ll stick to<\/p>\n

small lizards and snakishes. Listen,” he continued more<\/p>\n

softly, “it’s hard working for this wizard. I need a lil’<\/p>\n

lubrication now and then.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You get any more lubricated,” Jon-Tom observed<\/p>\n

distastefully, “and your brains are going to slide out your<\/p>\n

ass.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nonshensh. I am in complete control of myself.” He<\/p>\n

turned back toward the bench, staggered over to the edge,<\/p>\n

and commenced a minute inspection of the surface with<\/p>\n

eyes that should have been capable of spotting an ant from<\/p>\n

a hundred yards away. At the moment, however, those<\/p>\n

huge orbs were operating at less than maximum efficiency.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom shook his head in disgust and returned to the<\/p>\n

wizard’s bedside.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THK DISSONANCE\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>7<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well,” asked Clothahump meaningfully, “what is your<\/p>\n

opinion of my new famulus?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I think I see what you’re driving at. I didn’t notice any<\/p>\n

of the qualities you said he possesses. I’m pretty sure he<\/p>\n

was drunk.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Really?” said Clothahump dryly. “What a profound<\/p>\n

observation. We’ll make a perceptive spellsinger out of<\/p>\n

you yet. He is like that too much of the time, my boy. I am<\/p>\n

blessed with a potentially brilliant famulus, a first-rate,<\/p>\n

worthy assistant. Sadly, Sorbl is also a lush. Do you know<\/p>\n

that I have to make him take a cart into town to buy<\/p>\n

supplies because every time he tries to fly in he ends up by<\/p>\n

running head-first into a tree and the local farmers have to<\/p>\n

haul him back to me in a wagon? Do you have any idea<\/p>\n

how embarrassing that is for the world’s greatest wizard?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I can imagine. Can’t you cure him? I’d think an<\/p>\n

anti-inebriation spell would be fairly simple and straight-<\/p>\n

forward.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It is a vicious circle, my boy. Were I not so sick I<\/p>\n

could do so, but as it stands I cannot concentrate. Past two<\/p>\n

hundred the mind loses some of its resilience. I tried just<\/p>\n

that last week. All those methyl ethyl bethels in the spell<\/p>\n

are difficult enough to get straight when you’re at the top<\/p>\n

of your form. Sick as I was, I must have transposed an -yl<\/p>\n

somewhere. Made him throw up for three days. Cured his<\/p>\n

drinking, but made him so ill the only way he could cure<\/p>\n

himself was by getting falling-down-drunk again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I must have that medicine, lad, so that I can function<\/p>\n

properly again. Otherwise I’m liable to try some complex<\/p>\n

spell, slip an incantation, and end up with something<\/p>\n

dangerous in my pentagram. It’s hard enough making sure<\/p>\n

that idiot in there passes me the proper powders. Once he<\/p>\n

substituted lettuce for liverwort, and I ended up with a<\/p>\n

ten-foot-tall saber-toothed rabbit. Took me two hasty re-<\/p>\n

traction spells to bunny it down.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Why don’t you just conjure the stuff up?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I do not possess the necessary ingredients,” Clothahump<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

8<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

explained patiently. “If I did, I could just take them, now,<\/p>\n

couldn’t I?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Beats me. I’ve seen you make chocolate out of garbage.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Medicine is rather more specific in its requirements.<\/p>\n

Everything must be so precise. You can make milk choco-<\/p>\n

late, bittersweet chocolate, white chocolate, semisweet<\/p>\n

chocolate: it’s still all chocolate. Alter the composition of<\/p>\n

a medicinal spell ever so slightly and you might end up<\/p>\n

with a deadly poison. No, it must be brought whole and<\/p>\n

ready, and you must bring it to me, my boy.” He reached<\/p>\n

out with a trembling hand. Jon-Tom moved close, sitting<\/p>\n

down again on the edge of the soft bed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know I did a bad thing when I reached out into the<\/p>\n

beyond and plucked you hence from your own comfortable<\/p>\n

world, but the need was great. In the end, you vindicated<\/p>\n

my judgment, though in a fashion that could not have been<\/p>\n

foreseen.” He adjusted his glasses. “You proved yourself<\/p>\n

in spite of what everyone thought.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Mostly by accident.” Jon-Tom realized that the wizard<\/p>\n

was flattering him in order to break down his resistance to<\/p>\n

making the journey. At the same time he felt himself<\/p>\n

succumbing to the flattery.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It need not be by accident any longer. Work at your<\/p>\n

new profession. Study hard, practice your skills, and heed<\/p>\n

my advice. You can be more than a man in this world. I<\/p>\n

don’t know what you might have been in your own, but<\/p>\n

here you have the potential to be a master. \/\/ you can<\/p>\n

wrestle your strengths and talent under control.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“With your instruction, of course.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Why not learn from the best?” said Clothahump with<\/p>\n

typical immodesty. “In order for me to train you I need<\/p>\n

many years. One does not master the arcane arts of<\/p>\n

spellsinging in a day, a week, a year. If you do not fetch<\/p>\n

this medicine that can cure this bedamned affliction, I will<\/p>\n

not be around much longer to help you.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I need only a small quantity. It will fit easily into a<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSOJVAWCE\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>9<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

pocket of those garish trousers or that absurd purple shirt<\/p>\n

that foppish tailor Carlemot fashioned for you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It’s not purple, it’s indigo,” Jon-Tom muttered, looking<\/p>\n

down to where it tucked into the pants. His iridescent<\/p>\n

green lizard-skin cape hung on a wall hook. “From what<\/p>\n

I’ve seen, this qualifies as subdued attire here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Go naked if you will, but go you must.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“All right, all right! Haven’t you made me feel guilty<\/p>\n

enough?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I sincerely hope so,” the wizard murmured.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into these things.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You have the misfortune to be a decent person, a<\/p>\n

constant burden in any world. You suffer from knowing<\/p>\n

right from wrong.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No I don’t. If I knew what was right, I’d be long gone<\/p>\n

from this tree. But you did take me in, help me out, even<\/p>\n

if you did use me for your own ends. Not that I feel used.<\/p>\n

You used everyone for your own ends.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We saved the world,” Clothahump demurred. “Not<\/p>\n

bad ends.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’re also right about my being stuck here unless you<\/p>\n

can work the spell to send me home someday. So 1<\/p>\n

suppose I have no choice but to go after this special<\/p>\n

medicine. It’s not by any chance available from the apoth-<\/p>\n

ecary in Lynchbany?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I fear not.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What a lucky guess on my part.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Teh. Sarcasm in one so young is bad for the liver.”<\/p>\n

Clothahump raised himself slowly, turned to the end table<\/p>\n

that doubled as a bedside desk. He scribbled with a quill<\/p>\n

pen on a piece of paper. A moment passed, he cursed, put<\/p>\n

a refill cartridge in the quill, and resumed writing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When he finished, he rolled the paper tight, inserted it<\/p>\n

into a small metal tube which hung from a chain, and<\/p>\n

handed it to Jon-Tom.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Here is the formula,” he said reverently. “She who is<\/p>\n

to fill it will know its meaning.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

10<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom nodded, took the chain, and hung it around his<\/p>\n

neck. The tube was cool against his chest.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That is all you need to know.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Except how to find this magician, or druggist, or<\/p>\n

whatever she is.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“A store. Nothing more.” Clothahump’s reassuring tone<\/p>\n

immediately put Jon-Tom on his guard. “The Shop of the<\/p>\n

Aether and Neither. It lies in the town of Crancularn.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I take it this Crancularn isn’t a hop, skip, and a jump<\/p>\n

from Lynchbany?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Depends on your method of locomotion, but for most<\/p>\n

mortals, I would say not. It lies well to the south and west<\/p>\n

of the Bellwoods.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom made a face. He’d been around enough to have<\/p>\n

picked up some knowledge of local geography. “There<\/p>\n

isn’t anything well to the southwest of here. The Bellwoods<\/p>\n

run down to the River Tailaroam which flows into…” he<\/p>\n

stopped. “Cranculara’s a village on the shore of the<\/p>\n

Glittergeist?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Clothahump looked the other way. “Uh, not exactly, my<\/p>\n

boy. Actually it lies on the other side.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“The other side of the river?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Noooo. The other side of the ocean.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom threw up his hands in despair. “And that’s the<\/p>\n

last straw,”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Actually, lad, it’s only the first straw. There are many<\/p>\n

more to pass before you reach Crancularn. But reach it you<\/p>\n

must,” he finished emphatically, “or I will surely perish<\/p>\n

from the pain, and any chance you have of returning home<\/p>\n

will perish with me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“But I don’t even know how big the Glittergeist is.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not all that big, as oceans go.” Clothahump strove to<\/p>\n

sound reassuring. “It can be crossed in a few weeks. All<\/p>\n

you have to do is book passage on one of the many ships<\/p>\n

that trade between the mouth of the Glittergeist and distant<\/p>\n

Snarken.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ve heard of Snarken. Big place?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

11<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“A most magnificent city. So I have been told, never<\/p>\n

having visited there myself. Grander than Polastrindu.<\/p>\n

You’d find it fascinating.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“And dangerous.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No journey is worthwhile unless it is dangerous, but<\/p>\n

we romanticize. I do not see any reason for anticipating<\/p>\n

trouble. You are a tourist, nothing more, embarked on a<\/p>\n

voyage of rest, relaxation, and discovery.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sure. From what I’ve seen of this world it doesn’t treat<\/p>\n

tourists real well.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That should not trouble an accomplished spellsinger<\/p>\n

like you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The wizard was interrupted by the sound of another<\/p>\n

crash from the nearby storeroom, followed by a few<\/p>\n

snatches of drunken song.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You also have your ramwood staff for protection, and<\/p>\n

you no longer are a stranger to our ways. Think of it as a<\/p>\n

holiday, a vacation.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Why do I have this persistent feeling you’re not telling<\/p>\n

me everything?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Because you are a pessimist, my boy. I do not criti-<\/p>\n

cize. That is a healthy attitude for one embarked on a<\/p>\n

career in magic. I am not sending you after trouble this<\/p>\n

time. We do not go to battle powerful invaders from the<\/p>\n

east. I am asking you only to go and fetch a handful of<\/p>\n

powder, a little medicine. That is all. No war awaits. True,<\/p>\n

it is a long journey, but there is no reason why it should<\/p>\n

be an arduous one.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You leave from here, proceed south to the banks of the<\/p>\n

Tailaroam, book passage downstream. At its mouth where<\/p>\n

the merchant ships dock you, board a comfortable vessel<\/p>\n

heading for Snarken. Thence overland to Crancularn. A<\/p>\n

short jaunt, I should imagine.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Imagine? You mean you don’t know how far it is from<\/p>\n

Snarken to Crancularn?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not very far.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“For someone who deals in exact formulas and spells,<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

12<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

you can be disconcertingly nonspecific at times, Clotha-<\/p>\n

hump.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“And you can be unnecessarily verbose,” the turtle shot<\/p>\n

back.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sorry. My pre-law training. Never use one word where<\/p>\n

five will fit. Maybe I would’ve ended up a lawyer instead<\/p>\n

of a heavy-metal bass player.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’ll never know if you don’t return to your own<\/p>\n

world, which you cannot do unless …”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know, I know,” Jon-Tom said tiredly. “Unless 1<\/p>\n

make the trip to this Crancularn and bring back the<\/p>\n

medicine you need. Okay, so I’m stuck.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I would rather know that you had undertaken this<\/p>\n

journey with enthusiasm, willingly, out of a desire to help<\/p>\n

one who only wishes you well.”‘<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So would I, but you’ll settle for my going because I<\/p>\n

haven’t got any choice, won’t you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes,” said Clothahump thoughtfully, “I expect that 1<\/p>\n

will.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

II<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He wasn’t in the best frame of mind the morning he set<\/p>\n

off. Not that anything was keeping him occupied else-<\/p>\n

where, he told himself sourly. He had no place in this<\/p>\n

world and certainly no intention of setting himself up in<\/p>\n

practice as a professional spellsinger.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

For one thing, that would put him in direct competition<\/p>\n

with Clothahump. Although the wizard thought well of<\/p>\n

him, Jon-Tom didn’t think Clothahump would take kindly<\/p>\n

to the idea. For another, he hadn’t mastered his odd<\/p>\n

abilities to the point where he could guarantee services for<\/p>\n

value received, and might never achieve that degree of<\/p>\n

expertise. He preferred to regard his spellsinging as a<\/p>\n

talent of last resort, choosing to rely instead on his staff<\/p>\n

and his wits to keep him out of trouble.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

In fact, the duar provided him with far more pleasure<\/p>\n

when he simply played it for fun, just like his battered old<\/p>\n

Fender guitar back home. Now he played it to ease his<\/p>\n

mind as he walked into town, strumming a few snatches of<\/p>\n

very unmagical Neil Diamond while wishing he had Ted<\/p>\n

Nugent’s way with strings. At the same time he had to be<\/p>\n

careful in his selections. Diamond was innocuous enough.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

13<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

14<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

If he tried a little Nugent\u2014say, “Cat Scratch Fever” or<\/p>\n

“Scream Dream”\u2014there was no telling what he might<\/p>\n

accidentally conjure up.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

At least the weather favored his journey. It was early<\/p>\n

spring- Deep within the Bellwoods, so named for the<\/p>\n

bell-shaped leaves which produced a tinkling sound when<\/p>\n

the wind blew through them, there was the smell of dew<\/p>\n

and new blossoms on the air. Glass butterflies flew every-<\/p>\n

where, their stained-glass wings sending shafts of brilliant<\/p>\n

color twinkling over the ground. Peppermint bees striped<\/p>\n

in psychedelic hues darted among the flowers.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

One hitched a ride on his indigo shirt. Perhaps it thought<\/p>\n

he was some kind of giant ambulatory flower. Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

examined it with interest. Instead of the yellow-and-black<\/p>\n

pattern he was accustomed to, his visitor’s abdomen was<\/p>\n

striped pink, lemon yellow, orange, chocolate brown, and<\/p>\n

bright blue. Man and insect regarded one another thought-<\/p>\n

fully for a long moment. Deciding he was neither a source<\/p>\n

of pollen or enlightenment, the bee droned off in search of<\/p>\n

sweeter forage.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Lynchbany Towne was unchanged from the first time<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom had seen it, on that rainy day when he, a strange-<\/p>\n

to this world, had entered it accompanied by Mudge tl<\/p>\n

otter. It was Mudge he sought now. He had no intention<\/p>\n

striking out across the Glittergeist alone, no matter ho<\/p>\n

much confidence Clothahump vested in him. There was<\/p>\n

still far too much of the ways and customs of this place he<\/p>\n

was ignorant of.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge’s knowledge was of the practical and non-<\/p>\n

intellectual variety. Too, nothing was more precious to the<\/p>\n

otter than his own skin. He was sort of a furry walking<\/p>\n

alarm, ready to jump or take whatever evasive action the<\/p>\n

situation dictated at the barest suggestion of danger. Jon-<\/p>\n

Tom intended to use him the way the allies had used<\/p>\n

pigeons in World War I to detect the presence of poison<\/p>\n

gas.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge would have considered the analogy unflattering,<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

15<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

but Jon-Tom didn’t care what the otter thought. Despite his<\/p>\n

questionable morals and wavering sense of loyalty, the<\/p>\n

otter had been a great help in the past and could be so<\/p>\n

again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Luck wasn’t with Jon-Tom, however. There was no sign<\/p>\n

of Mudge in the taverns he normally frequented, nor word<\/p>\n

of him in the eating establishments or gambling dens. He<\/p>\n

hadn’t been seen in some time in any of his usual haunts.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom finally found mention of him in one of the<\/p>\n

more reputable rooming houses on the far side of town,<\/p>\n

where the stink from the central open sewer was less.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The concierge was an overweight koala in a bad mood.<\/p>\n

A carved pipe dangled from her lips as she scrubbed the<\/p>\n

floor near the entrance.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hay, I’ve seen him,” she told Jon-Tom. Part of her<\/p>\n

right ear was missing, probably bitten off during a dispute<\/p>\n

with an irate customer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’d laik to know where he gone to much as you, man.<\/p>\n

He skip away owing me half a week’s rent. That not bad<\/p>\n

as some have dun me, but I work hand to run this place<\/p>\n

and every silver counts.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Only a few days’ rent, is it?” Jon-Tom squatted to be<\/p>\n

at eye level with the koala. “You know where he is, don’t<\/p>\n

you? You’re feeding me some story old Mudge paid you to<\/p>\n

tell anyone who came looking for him because he paid you<\/p>\n

to do so, because he probably owes everyone but you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She wrinkled her black nose and wiped her paws on her<\/p>\n

apron. Then she broke out in a wide grin. “You a clever<\/p>\n

one, you are, man, though strange of manner and talk.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m not really from around here,” Jon-Tom confessed.<\/p>\n

“Actually my home lies quite a distance from Lynchbany.<\/p>\n

Nor am I a creditor or bill collector. Mudge is my friend.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Is he now?” She dropped her scrub brush in the pail of<\/p>\n

wash water and rose. Jon-Tom did likewise. She reached<\/p>\n

barely to his stomach. That wasn’t unusual. Jon-Tom was<\/p>\n

something of a giant in this world where humans barely<\/p>\n

topped five and a half feet and many others stood shorter.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

16<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So you his friend, hay? That make you sort of unique.<\/p>\n

I wasn’t aware the otter had any friends. Only acquain-<\/p>\n

tances and enemies.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No matter. I am his friend, and I need to get in touch<\/p>\n

with him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What for?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I am embarked on a journey in the service of the great<\/p>\n

wizard Clothahump.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah, that old fraud.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He’s not a fraud. Haven’t you heard of the battle for<\/p>\n

the Jo-Troom Gate?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yea, yea, I heard, I heard.” She picked up the bucket<\/p>\n

of wash water, the scrub brush sloshing around inside. “I<\/p>\n

also know you never believe everything you read in the<\/p>\n

papers. This journey you going on for him. It going be a<\/p>\n

hard one, where someone might get deaded?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Possibly.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hay, then I tell you where the otter is and you make<\/p>\n

sure he go with you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s the idea.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Good! Then I tell you where he is. Because I tell you<\/p>\n

true, man, he owe me half a week’s rent. I just don’t want<\/p>\n

to tell anyone else because maybe they get to him before<\/p>\n

me. But this is better, much better. Worth a few days’<\/p>\n

rent.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“About that rent,” Jon-Tom said, jiggling the purse full<\/p>\n

of gold Clothahump had given him to pay for his passage<\/p>\n

across the Glittergeist.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The concierge waved him off. “Hay nay, man. Just<\/p>\n

make sure he go with you on this dangerous journey. More<\/p>\n

better I dream of him roasting over some cannibal’s spit in<\/p>\n

some far-off land. That will give me more pleasure than a<\/p>\n

few coins.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“As you wish, madame.” Jon-Tom put the purse aside.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Only, you must be sure promise to come back here<\/p>\n

someday and regale me with the gory details. For that I<\/p>\n

pay you myself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

17<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ll be sure to make it my business,” Jon-Tom said<\/p>\n

dryly. “Now, where might I find my friend?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not here. North.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oglagia Towne?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hay nay, farther west. In Timswitty.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Timswitty,” Jon-Tom repeated. “Thanks. You know<\/p>\n

what business he has there?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She let out a short, sharp bark, a koalaish laugh. “Same<\/p>\n

business that otter he have any place he go: thievery,<\/p>\n

deception, debauchery, and drunkenness. I wager you find<\/p>\n

him easy enough you keep that in mind.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I will. Tell me. I’ve never been north of Lynchbany.<\/p>\n

What’s Timswitty like?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She shrugged. “Like heah. Like Oglagia. Like any of<\/p>\n

the Bellwoods towns. Backward, crowded, primitive, but<\/p>\n

not bad if you willing stand up for your rights and work<\/p>\n

hard.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thank you, madame. You’re sure I can’t pay you<\/p>\n

anything for the information you’ve given me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Keep you money and make you journey,” she told<\/p>\n

him. “I look forward to hearing about the otter’s slow and<\/p>\n

painful death upon you return.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t hold your breath in expectation of his demise,”<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom warned her as he turned to leave. “Mudge has a<\/p>\n

way of surviving in the damndest places.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know he do. He slip out of heah without me smelling<\/p>\n

his going. I tell you what. If he don’t get himself killed on<\/p>\n

this journey of yours, you can pay me his back rent when<\/p>\n

you return.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ll do better than that, madame. I’ll make him pay it<\/p>\n

himself, in person.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Fair enough. You have good traveling, man.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Good day to you too, madame.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom had no intention of walking all the way to<\/p>\n

Timswitty. Not since Clothahump had provided him with<\/p>\n

funds for transport. The local equivalent of a stagecoach<\/p>\n

was passing through Lynchbany, and he bought himself a<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

18<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

seat on the boxy contraption. It was pulled by four hand-<\/p>\n

some horses and presided over by a couple of three-foot-<\/p>\n

tall chimpmunks who cursed like longshoremen. They<\/p>\n

wore dirty uniforms and scurried about, wrestling baggage<\/p>\n

and cartons into the rear of the stage.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom had the wrong notion of who was in charge,<\/p>\n

however. As he strolled past the team of four, one of the<\/p>\n

horses cocked an eye in his direction.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Come on, bud, hurry it up. We haven’t got all day.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sorry. The ticket agent told me you weren’t leaving for<\/p>\n

another fifteen minutes.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The mare snorted. “That senile bastard. I don’t know<\/p>\n

what the world’s coming to when you can’t rely on your<\/p>\n

local service people anymore.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Tell me about it,” said the stallion yoked to her.<\/p>\n

“Unfortunately we were bom with hooves instead of<\/p>\n

hands, so we still have to hire slow-moving fools with<\/p>\n

small brains to handle business details for us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Right on, Elvar,” said the stallion behind him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The discussion continued until the stage left the depot.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“All aboard?” asked the mare second in harness. “Hold<\/p>\n

on to your seats, then.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The two chipmunks squatted in the rear along with the<\/p>\n

luggage, preening themselves and trying to catch their<\/p>\n

breath. There was no need for drovers, since the horses<\/p>\n

knew the way themselves. The chipmunks were loaders<\/p>\n

and unloaders and went along to see to the needs of the<\/p>\n

team, who, after all, did the real work of pulling the stage.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

This would have been fine as far as Jon-Tom and the<\/p>\n

other passengers were concerned except that the horses had<\/p>\n

an unfortunate tendency to break into song as they galloped,<\/p>\n

and while their voices were strong and clear, not a one of<\/p>\n

them could carry a tune in a bucket. So the passengers<\/p>\n

were compelled to suffer a series of endless, screeching<\/p>\n

songs all the way through to Timswitty.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

When one passenger had the temerity to complain, he<\/p>\n

was invited to get out and walk. There were two other<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

19<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

unscheduled stops along the way as well, once when the<\/p>\n

team got hungry and stopped to graze a lush meadow<\/p>\n

through which the road conveniently cut, and again when<\/p>\n

the two mares got into a heated argument about just who<\/p>\n

boasted the daintier fetlocks.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was dark when they finally pulled into Timswitty.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Come on,” snapped the lead stallion, “let’s get a<\/p>\n

move on back there. Our stable’s waiting. I know you’re<\/p>\n

all stuck with only two legs, but that’s no reason for<\/p>\n

loafing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Really!” One of the outraged travelers was an elegantly<\/p>\n

attired vixen. Gold chains twined through her tail, and her<\/p>\n

elaborate hat was badly askew over her ears from the<\/p>\n

jouncing the stage had undergone. “I have never been<\/p>\n

treated so rudely in my life! I assure you I shall speak to<\/p>\n

your line manager at first opportunity,”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’re talking to him, sister,” said the stallion. “You<\/p>\n

got a complaint, you might as well tell me to my face.”<\/p>\n

He looked her up and down. “Me, I think you ought to<\/p>\n

thank us for not charging you for the extra poundage.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well!” Her tail swatted the stallion across the snout as<\/p>\n

she turned and flounced away to collect her luggage.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Only the fact that his mate restrained him kept him from<\/p>\n

taking a bite out of that fluffy appendage.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Watch your temper, Dreal,” she told him. “It doesn’t<\/p>\n

do to bite the paying freight. Rotten public relations.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Bet all her relations have been public,” he snorted,<\/p>\n

pawing the ground impatiently. “What’s slowing up those<\/p>\n

striped rats back there? I need a rubdown and some sweet<\/p>\n

alfalfa.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know you do, dear,” she said as she nuzzled his<\/p>\n

neck, “but you have to try and maintain a professional<\/p>\n

-attitude, if only for the sake of the business.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yeah, I know,” Jon-Tom overheard as he made his<\/p>\n

way toward the depot. “It’s only that there are times when<\/p>\n

I think maybe we’d have been better off if we’d bought<\/p>\n

ourselves a little farm somewhere out in the country and<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

20<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSOKAWCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

21<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

hired some housemice and maybe a human or two to do<\/p>\n

the dirty work.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He was the only one in the office. The fox and the other<\/p>\n

passengers already had destinations in mind.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Can I help you?” asked the elderly marten seated<\/p>\n

behind the low desk. With his long torso and short waist,<\/p>\n

the clerk reminded Jon-Tom of Mudge. The marten was<\/p>\n

slimmer still, and instead of Mudge’s jaunty cap and bright<\/p>\n

vest and pantaloons he wore dark shorts and a sleeveless<\/p>\n

white shirt, a visor to shade his eyes, and bifocals.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m a stranger in town.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I suspect you’re a stranger everywhere,” said the<\/p>\n

marten presciently.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom ignored the comment. “Where would a visitor<\/p>\n

go for a little harmless fun and entertainment in Timswitty?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well now,” replied the marten primly, “I am a family<\/p>\n

man myself. You might try the Golden Seal. They offer<\/p>\n

folksinging by many species and occasionally a string trio<\/p>\n

from Kolansor.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You don’t understand.” Jon-Tom grinned insinuatingly.<\/p>\n

“I’m looking for a good time, not culture.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I see.” The marten sighed. “Well, if you will go down<\/p>\n

the main street to Born Lily Lane and follow the lane to its<\/p>\n

end, you will come to two small side streets leading off<\/p>\n

into separate cul-de-sacs. Take the north close. If the smell<\/p>\n

and noise isn’t enough to guide you further, look for the<\/p>\n

small sign just above an oil lamp, the one with the carving<\/p>\n

of an Afghan on it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“As in canine or cloth?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The marten wet his lips. “The place is called the<\/p>\n

Elegant Bitch. No doubt you will find its pleasures suita-<\/p>\n

ble. I wouldn’t know, of course. I am a family man.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Of course,” said Jon-Tom gravely. “Thanks.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As he made his solitary way down the dimly lit main<\/p>\n

street, he found himself wishing Talea was at his side.<\/p>\n

Talea of the flame-red hair and infinite resourcefulness.<\/p>\n

Talea of the blind courage and quick temper. Did he love<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

her? He wasn’t sure anymore. He thought so, thought she<\/p>\n

loved him in return. But she was too full of life to settle<\/p>\n

down as the wife of an itinerant spellsinger who had not<\/p>\n

yet managed to master his craft.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Not long after the battle of the Jo-Troom Gate, she had<\/p>\n

regretfully proposed they go their separate ways, at least<\/p>\n

for a little while. She needed time to think on serious<\/p>\n

matters and suggested he do likewise. It was hard on him.<\/p>\n

He did miss her. But there was the possibility she was<\/p>\n

simply too independent for any one man.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He held to his hopes, however. Perhaps someday she<\/p>\n

would tire of her wanderings and come back to him. There<\/p>\n

wasn’t a thing he could do but wait.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As for Flor Quintera, the cheerleader he’d inadvertently<\/p>\n

brought into this world, she had turned out to be a major<\/p>\n

disappointment. Instead of being properly fascinated by<\/p>\n

him, it developed that she lusted after a career as a<\/p>\n

sword-wielding soldier of fortune and had gone off with<\/p>\n

Caz, the tall, suave rabbit with the Ronald Colman voice<\/p>\n

and sophisticated manners. Jon-Tom hadn’t heard of them<\/p>\n

hi months. Flor was a dream that had brought him back to<\/p>\n

reality, and fast.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

At least this was a fit world in which to pursue dreams.<\/p>\n

At the moment, though, he was supposed to be pursuing<\/p>\n

medicine. He clung to that thought as he turned down the<\/p>\n

tiny side street.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

True to the marten’s information he heard sounds of<\/p>\n

singing and raucous laughter. But instead of a single small<\/p>\n

oil lamp there were big impressive ones flanking the door,<\/p>\n

fashioned of clear beveled crystal.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Above the door was a swinging sign showing a finely<\/p>\n

coiffed hound clad in feathers and jewels. She was gazing<\/p>\n

back over her furry shoulder with a distinctly come-hither<\/p>\n

look, and her hips were cocked rakishly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There was a small porch. Standing beneath the rain<\/p>\n

shield, Jon-Tom knocked twice on the heavily oiled door.<\/p>\n

It was opened by a three-foot-tall mouse in a starched suit.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

22<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

23<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Sound flooded over Jon-Tom as the doormouse looked him<\/p>\n

over.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Step inside and enjoy, sir,” he finally said, moving<\/p>\n

aside.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom nodded and entered. The doormouse closed the<\/p>\n

door behind him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He found himself in a parlor full of fine furniture and a<\/p>\n

wild assortment of creatures representing several dozen<\/p>\n

species. All were cavorting without a. care as to who they<\/p>\n

happened to be matching up with. There were several<\/p>\n

humans in the group, men and women. They moved freely<\/p>\n

among their intelligent furry counterparts.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom noted the activity, listened to the lascivious<\/p>\n

dialogue, saw the movement of hands and paws, and<\/p>\n

suspected he had not entered a bar. No question what kind<\/p>\n

of place this was. He was still surprised, though he<\/p>\n

shouldn’t have been. It was a logical place to look for<\/p>\n

Mudge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Still, he didn’t want to take the chance of embarrassing<\/p>\n

himself. First impressions could be wrong. He spoke to the<\/p>\n

doormouse.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I beg your pardon, but this is a whorehouse, isn’t it?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The mouse’s voice was surprisingly deep, rumbling out<\/p>\n

of the tiny gray body. “All kinds we get in here,” he<\/p>\n

muttered dolefully, “all kinds. What did you think it was,<\/p>\n

jack? A library?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not really. There aren’t any books.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The doormouse showed sharp teeth in a smile. “Oh, we<\/p>\n

have books, too. With pictures. Lots of pictures, if that’s<\/p>\n

to your taste, sir.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not right now.” He was curious, though. Maybe later,<\/p>\n

after he’d found Mudge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You look like you’ve been a-traveling, sir. Would<\/p>\n

you like something to eat and drink?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thanks, I’m not hungry. Actually, I’m looking for a<\/p>\n

friend.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Everyone comes to the Elegant Bitch in search of a<\/p>\n

friend.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You misunderstand. That’s not the way I mean.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Just tell me your ways, sir. We cater to all ways here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m looking for a buddy, an acquaintance,” Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

said in exasperation. The doormouse had a one-track<\/p>\n

mind.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah, now I understand. No divertissements, then? This<\/p>\n

isn’t a meeting house, you know.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’re a good salesman.” Jon-Tom tried to placate<\/p>\n

him. “Maybe later. I have to say that you’re the smallest<\/p>\n

pimp I’ve ever seen.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I am not small and I am not a pimp,” replied the<\/p>\n

doormouse with some dignity. “If you wish to speak to the<\/p>\n

madam…”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not necessary,” Jon-Tom told him, though he won-<\/p>\n

dered not only what she’d look like but what she’d be.<\/p>\n

“The fellow I’m after wears a peaked cap with a feather in<\/p>\n

it, a leather vest, carries a longbow with him everywhere<\/p>\n

he goes, and is an otter. Name of Mudge.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The doormouse preened a whisker, scratched behind one<\/p>\n

ear. For the first time Jon-Tom noticed the small earplugs.<\/p>\n

Made sense. Given the mouse’s sensitivity to sound, he’d<\/p>\n

need the plugs to keep from going deaf while working<\/p>\n

amid the nonstop celebration.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I recognize neither name nor attire, sir, but there is one<\/p>\n

otter staying with us currently. He would be in room<\/p>\n

twenty-three on the second floor.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Great. Thanks.” Jon-Tom almost ran into the mouse’s<\/p>\n

outstretched palm. He placed a small silver piece there and<\/p>\n

saw it vanish instantly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thank you, sir. If there is anything I can do for you<\/p>\n

after you have met with this possible friend, please let me<\/p>\n

know. My name is Whort and I’m the majordomo here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Maybe later,” Jon-Tom assured him as he started up<\/p>\n

the carved stairway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He had no intention of taking the doormouse up on his<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

24<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

25<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

offer. Not that he had anything against the house brand of<\/p>\n

entertainment. His long separation from Talea plagued him<\/p>\n

physically as well as mentally, but this wasn’t the place to<\/p>\n

indulge in any lingering fancies of the flesh. It looked<\/p>\n

fancy and clean, but you never could tell where you might<\/p>\n

pick up an interesting strain of VD, and not only the<\/p>\n

human varieties. In the absence of modern medicine he<\/p>\n

didn’t want to have to count on curing a good dose of the<\/p>\n

clap with a song or two.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

So he restrained his libido as he mounted the second-<\/p>\n

floor landing and hunted for the right door. He was<\/p>\n

interrupted in his search by a sight that reminded him this<\/p>\n

was a real place and not a drug-induced excursion into a<\/p>\n

dreamland zoo.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A couple of creatures had passed him, and he’d paid<\/p>\n

them no mind. Coming down the hall toward him now was<\/p>\n

an exceptionally proportioned young woman in her early<\/p>\n

twenties- She was barely five feet tall and wore only a<\/p>\n

filmy peach-colored peignoir. The small pipe she smoked<\/p>\n

did little to blur the image of prancing, bouncing femininity.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, what are you staring at, tall-skinny-and-hand-<\/p>\n

some?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It occurred to Jon-Tom this was not intended as a<\/p>\n

rhetorical question, and he mumbled a reply that got all<\/p>\n

caught up in his tongue and teeth. Somehow he managed<\/p>\n

to shamble past her. Only the fact that Clothahump lay<\/p>\n

dying in his tree along with any chance Jon-Tom had of<\/p>\n

returning home kept him moving. His head rotated like a<\/p>\n

searchlight, and he followed the perfect vision with his<\/p>\n

eyes until she’d disappeared down the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As he forced himself down the hall, that image lingered<\/p>\n

on his retinas like a bright light. Sadly, he found the right<\/p>\n

door and knocked gently, sparing a last sorrowful glance<\/p>\n

for the now empty landing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Mudge?” He repeated the knock, was about to repeat<\/p>\n

the call, when the door suddenly flew open, causing him to<\/p>\n

step back hastily. Standing in the opening was a female<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

otter holding a delicate lace nightgown around her. Her<\/p>\n

eyebrows had been curled and painted, and the tips of her<\/p>\n

whiskers dipped in gold. She was sniffling, an act to which<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom attached no particular significance. Otters sniffled<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

a lot.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She took one look at him before dashing past his bulk<\/p>\n

down the hallway, short legs churning.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom stared after her, was about to go in when a<\/p>\n

second fur of the night came out, accompanied by an<\/p>\n

equally distraught third otter. They followed their sister<\/p>\n

toward the stairs. Shaking his head, he entered the dark<\/p>\n

room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Faint light flickered from a single chandelier. Golden<\/p>\n

shadows danced on the flocked wallpaper. Nothing else<\/p>\n

moved. Two curved mirrors on opposing walls ran from<\/p>\n

floor to ceiling. An elegant china washbasin rested on a<\/p>\n

chellow-wood dresser. The door to the John stood half-<\/p>\n

agape.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A wrought-iron bed decorated with cast grapevines and<\/p>\n

leaves stood against the far wall. The headboard curved<\/p>\n

slightly forward. A pile of sheets and pillows filled the<\/p>\n

bed, an eruption of fine linen. Jon-Tom guessed this was<\/p>\n

not the cheapest room in the house.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

From within the silks and satins came a muffled but still<\/p>\n

familiar voice. “Is that you, Lisette? Are you comin’ back<\/p>\n

to forgive me, luv? Wot I said, that were only a joke.<\/p>\n

Meant nothin’ by it, I did.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That would be the first time,” Jon-Tom said coolly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There was silence, then the pile of sheets stirred and a head<\/p>\n

emerged, black eyes blinking in the darkness. “Cor, I’m<\/p>\n

‘aving a bloody nightmare, I am! Too much bubbly.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I don’t know what you’ve had,” Jon-Tom said as he<\/p>\n

moved toward the bed, “but this is no nightmare.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge wiped at his eyes with the backs of his paws.<\/p>\n

“Right then, mate, it is no nightmare. You’re too damned<\/p>\n

big to be a nightmare. Wot^the ‘ell are you doin’ ‘ere,<\/p>\n

anyways?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Looking for you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

26<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You picked the time for it.” He vanished beneath the<\/p>\n

linens. “Where’s me clothes?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom turned, searched the shadows until he’d located<\/p>\n

the vest, cap, pants and boots. The oversized bow and<\/p>\n

quiver of arrows lay beneath the bed. He tossed the whole<\/p>\n

business onto the mattress.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thanks, mate.” The otter began to flow into the<\/p>\n

clothes, his movements short and fast. ” ‘Tis a providence,<\/p>\n

it is, wot brings you to poor oF Mudge now.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I don’t know about that. You actually seem glad to see<\/p>\n

me. It’s not what I expected.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge looked hurt. “Wot, not ‘appy to see an old<\/p>\n

friend? You pierce me to the quick. Now why wouldn’t I<\/p>\n

be glad to see an old friend?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Something funny going on here, Jon-Tom mused warily.<\/p>\n

Where were the otter’s usual suspicious questions, his<\/p>\n

casual abusiveness?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As if to answer his questions the door burst inward.<\/p>\n

Standing there backlit by the light from the hall was a sight<\/p>\n

to give an opium eater pause.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The immensely overweight lady badger wore a bright<\/p>\n

red dress fringed with organdy ruffles. Rings dripped from<\/p>\n

her manicured fingers, and it was hard to believe that the<\/p>\n

massive gems that encircled her neck were real. They<\/p>\n

threw the light back into the room.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A few curious customers crowded in behind her as she<\/p>\n

raised a paw and pointed imperiously at the bed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“There he is!” she growled.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah, Madam Lorsha,” said Mudge as he finished his<\/p>\n

dressing in a hurry, “I ‘ave to compliment you on the<\/p>\n

facilities of your establishment.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That will be the last compliment you ever give any-<\/p>\n

one, you deadbeat. Your ass is a rug.” She snapped her<\/p>\n

fingers as she stepped into the room. “Tork.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Bending to pass under the sill was the largest intelligent<\/p>\n

warmlander Jon-Tom had yet encountered. It was a shock<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

27<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

to see someone taller than himself. The grizzly rose at<\/p>\n

least seven and a half feet, wore black-leather pants and<\/p>\n

shirt. He also wore what appeared in the bad light to be<\/p>\n

heavy leather gloves. Their true nature was revealed all too<\/p>\n

quickly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Now, Jon-Tom did not know precisely what had tran-<\/p>\n

spired in the elegant room or beyond its walls or between<\/p>\n

his furry friend who was slipping on his boots in a<\/p>\n

veritable frenzy and the badger who was clearly the owner<\/p>\n

of the house of ill repute, but he suspected the sight of the<\/p>\n

full-grown grizzly adjusting the brass knuckles over his<\/p>\n

immense paws did not bode well for the future.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I understand your concern, luv,” said Mudge as he<\/p>\n

casually recovered his bow and quiver, “but now that me<\/p>\n

mate’s ‘ere everything will be squared away.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Will it, now?” she said. The grizzly stood rubbing one<\/p>\n

palm with a massive fist and grinning. His teeth were very<\/p>\n

white. The badger eyed Jon-Tom. “Does he mean to say<\/p>\n

that you’ll pay his bill?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Pay his bill? What do you mean, pay his bill?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He’s been up here for three days without coming<\/p>\n

down, enjoying my best liquor and girls, and now he tells<\/p>\n

them he hasn’t got a silver to his bastard name.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom glared back at Mudge. The otter shrugged,<\/p>\n

didn’t appear in the least embarrassed. “Hey, at least I was<\/p>\n

honest about it, mate. I told ’em I was broke. But it’s all<\/p>\n

right, ain’t it? You’ll pay for me, won’t you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You are his friend?” inquired the badger.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, yeah.” He brought out the purse Clothahump<\/p>\n

had given him and jiggled it. The gold inside jingled<\/p>\n

musically, and the badger and the bear relaxed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She smiled at him. “Now that’s more like it.. .sir. I<\/p>\n

can see that you are a gentleman, though I don’t think<\/p>\n

much of your choice of friends.” Mudge looked wronged.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“How much does he owe you?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She didn’t even have to think. “Two hundred and fifty,<\/p>\n

sir. Plus any damages to the linen. I’ll have to check.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

28<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I can cover it,” Jon-Tom assured her. He turned to<\/p>\n

look darkly at Mudge, hefting his ramwood staff. “If<\/p>\n

you’d be kind enough to give me a moment alone with<\/p>\n

him, I intend to take at least some of it out of his hide.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The badger’s smile widened. “Your pleasure is mine,<\/p>\n

sir.” Again she snapped her fingers. The grizzly let out a<\/p>\n

disappointed grunt, turned, and ducked back through the<\/p>\n

doorway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Take your time, sir. If you need anything helpful\u2014<\/p>\n

acid, some thin wooden slivers, anything at all\u2014the house<\/p>\n

will be delighted to supply it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The door closed behind her. As soon as they were alone,<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom began to search the room. There was only one<\/p>\n

window, off to the left. He tried to open it, found it<\/p>\n

wouldn’t budge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

” ‘Ere now, mate,” said Mudge, ambling over, “wot’s<\/p>\n

the trouble? Just pay the old whore and let’s be gone from<\/p>\n

‘ere.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It’s not that simple, Mudge. That money is from<\/p>\n

Clothahump, to pay for our passage at least as far as<\/p>\n

Snarken. And I lied about the amount. No way is there<\/p>\n

two hundred and fifty there.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge took a step backward as Jon-Tom strove to<\/p>\n

puzzle out the window. “Just a minute there, mate. Wot’s<\/p>\n

that about payin’ our way? Snarken, you said? That’s all<\/p>\n

the way across the Glittergeist, ain’t it?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s right.” Jon-Tom squinted at the jamb. “I think<\/p>\n

this locks from the outside. Clever. Must be a way to<\/p>\n

break through it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge continued backing toward the bed. “Nice of you<\/p>\n

to come lookin’ for me, mate, but I’m afraid I can’t go<\/p>\n

with you. And you say ‘is wizardship is behind it?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s right. He’s sick and I have to go get him some<\/p>\n

medicine.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Right. Give the old reptile me best wishes, and I ‘ope he<\/p>\n

makes a speedy recovery. As for me, I’ve some (ravelin’ to do<\/p>\n

for me ‘ealth, and salt air doesn’t agree with me lungs.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

29<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’re not going anywhere unless it’s with me,”<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom snapped at him. “You take one step out that door<\/p>\n

and I’ll call the madam. I saw the look in her eyes. She’d<\/p>\n

enjoy separating your head from the rest of you. So would<\/p>\n

that side of beef that came in with her.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I ain’t “afraid of no bag of suet wot communicates in<\/p>\n

grunts,” Mudge said.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom turned from the window. “Then maybe I ought<\/p>\n

to call them. I can always find someone else to accompany<\/p>\n

me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge rushed at him. “Take it easy, mate, ‘old on. To<\/p>\n

Snarken, you say?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Maybe beyond.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ain’t no place beyond Snarken.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes there is. Little town not too far inland from<\/p>\n

there.” He fumbled between the windowpanes, was rewarded<\/p>\n

by a double clicking sound. “Ah,”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He lifted the window slowly. Halfway up, something<\/p>\n

loud and brassy began to clang inside the building.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Shit! There’s an alarm spell on this thing!” The<\/p>\n

sounds of pounding feet came from the hall.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No time for regrets, mate, and you’d best not stand<\/p>\n

there gawkin’.” Mudge was over the sill in a flash and<\/p>\n

shinnying down the rainpipe outside. Jon-Tom followed<\/p>\n

more slowly, envying the otter his agility.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

By the time they reached the pavement, faces had<\/p>\n

appeared at the open window.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You won’t get away from me, otter!” Madam Lorsha<\/p>\n

yelled, shaking her fist at them as they ran up the side<\/p>\n

street. At any moment Jon-Tom expected to hear the<\/p>\n

grizzly’s footsteps behind them, feel huge paws closing<\/p>\n

around his throat. “I’ll hunt you to the ends of the world!<\/p>\n

No one runs out owing Madam Lorsha!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Funny what she said about the ends of the world,”<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom murmured as he followed the otter down endless<\/p>\n

alleyways and turns. He was sure Mudge had memorized<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

30<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

this escape route before stepping inside the brothel. “That’s<\/p>\n

where we’re going.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“There you go again, mate,” said Mudge, “usin’ them<\/p>\n

words like we and us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I need your help, Mudge.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They reached a main street and slowed to a walk as they<\/p>\n

joined the crowd of evening strollers. Timswirty was a<\/p>\n

good-sized town, much bigger than Lynchbany. It was<\/p>\n

unlikely Madam Lorsha’s thugs would be able to find<\/p>\n

them. Jon-Tom tried to hunch over and mask his excep-<\/p>\n

tional height.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Clothahump is deathly ill, and we must have this<\/p>\n

medicine. I’m not any happier about making this trip than<\/p>\n

you are.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You must be, mate, because I’m not goin’ to make it.<\/p>\n

Don’t get me wrongo. You just ‘elped me clear out of a<\/p>\n

bad spot. 1 am grateful, I am, but she weren’t worth<\/p>\n

enough to make me put me life on the line for you, much<\/p>\n

less for that old word-poisoner.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They edged around a strolling couple. “I need someone<\/p>\n

who knows the way, Mudge.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Then you needs some other bloke, mate. I ain’t never<\/p>\n

been to Snarken.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I mean someone who knows the ways of the world,<\/p>\n

Mudge. I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been here, but that’s<\/p>\n

nothing compared to what I don’t know. I need your good<\/p>\n

advice as well as your unconventional knowledge.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sure you do.” Mudge puffed up importantly in spite of<\/p>\n

knowing better. “You think you can flatter me into goin’,<\/p>\n

is that it? Or did you think I’d forgotten your intentions to<\/p>\n

be a solicitor in your own world? Don’t take me for a fool,<\/p>\n

mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I have to have someone along I can trust,” Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

went on. The otter’s expression showed that was one ploy<\/p>\n

he wasn’t expecting.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Now that ain’t fair, guv’nor, and you knows it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

31<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“There will also,” Jon-Tom added, saving the best for<\/p>\n

last, “be a good fee for helping me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

That piqued the otter’s interest. ” ‘Ere now, why didn’t<\/p>\n

you come out and say that t’ begin with instead of goin’ on<\/p>\n

with all this twaddle about *ow ‘is poor old ‘ardheaded<\/p>\n

curmudgeonly ‘oiiness was ‘aving an attack of the gout or<\/p>\n

whatever, or ‘ow badly you need me unique talents.” He<\/p>\n

moved nearer and put a comradely arm around Jon-Tom’s<\/p>\n

waist, as high as he could comfortably reach.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You ‘ave a ‘ell of a lot to learn about life, guv’nor.”<\/p>\n

He rambled on as the evening fog closed in comfortingly<\/p>\n

around them, explaining that though he didn’t know how it<\/p>\n

was in Jon-Tom’s world, here it was gold that spoke<\/p>\n

clearest and bought one’s trust. Not words.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom allowed as how things indeed were different,<\/p>\n

deferring to the otter’s claims while privately disagreeing.<\/p>\n

It did not matter who was right, however. All that mattered<\/p>\n

was that Mudge had agreed to join him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge managed to steer them into a tavern in a high-<\/p>\n

class district. Having already flashed Clothahump’s gold,<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom couldn’t very well claim he didn’t have the<\/p>\n

wherewithal to pay. So he went slowly through his own<\/p>\n

meal while the otter devoured a gigantic banquet more<\/p>\n

suitable to the appetite of Madam Lorsha’s bouncer. As<\/p>\n

Mudge explained between mouthfuls, he’d burned up a lot<\/p>\n

of energy this past week and wanted to make certain he<\/p>\n

embarked on their long journey at full strength.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Only when the otter had finished the final morsel did he<\/p>\n

lean contentedly back in his chair.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So you say we’re goin’ to distant Snarken, wot, and<\/p>\n

beyond, and I say there’s nothin’ beyond. Wot did ‘is nibs<\/p>\n

say it would be like?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He didn’t exactly say.” Jon-Tom picked at a sweet<\/p>\n

dessert. “Just the town where the store with the medicine<\/p>\n

is kept.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yeah, I ‘eard you say somethin’ about a town. ‘As it<\/p>\n

got a name?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

32<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom decided the bittersweet berry dessert was to his<\/p>\n

taste, finished the last of it. “Cranculam.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“WOT?” Mudge suddenly was sitting bolt upright,<\/p>\n

dribbling the last traces of wrinklerry jelly from his lips as<\/p>\n

he gaped at the man sitting across the table from him. A<\/p>\n

few curious diners spared him a glance, returned to their<\/p>\n

business when they saw no fighting was involved.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge wiped at his sticky whiskers and spoke more<\/p>\n

softly, eyeing Jon-Tom sideways. “Wot did you say the<\/p>\n

name o’ this dump was, guv’nor?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Crancularn. I see you’ve heard of it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

” ‘Hard of it, you’re bloody well right I’ve ‘card of it.<\/p>\n

That’s a place o’ the dead, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I thought there wasn’t anything beyond Snarken.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not supposed to be, mate, but then, nobody knows<\/p>\n

where this Crancularn is supposed to be either, except that<\/p>\n

it moves about from time to time, like lice, and that<\/p>\n

anyone who ever gets there never comes back. ‘Tis the<\/p>\n

entrance to ‘ell itself, mate. Surely you don’t mean to go<\/p>\n

there.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not only do I mean to go there, I intend to make a<\/p>\n

small purchase and return safely with it. And you’re<\/p>\n

coming with me. You promised.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“‘Ere now, mate, when I made this ‘ere bargain,<\/p>\n

weren’t nothin’ said about Cranculam. I’m out.” He stepped<\/p>\n

off the chair and discovered he was straddling the far end<\/p>\n

of Jon-Tom’s ramwood staff, which had been slipped<\/p>\n

under the table earlier.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sit down,” Jon-Tom ordered him. Gingerly, the otter<\/p>\n

resumed his seat. “You made a promise, Mudge. You<\/p>\n

agreed to accompany me. In a sense, you accepted the<\/p>\n

proffered fee. Where I come from an oral contract is<\/p>\n

enforceable when the details are known to both parties,<\/p>\n

and in this case the details are now known.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“But Crancularn, mate. Can’t this medicine be got<\/p>\n

anywheres else?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom shook his head. “I pressed Clothahump on that<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

33<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

point repeatedly, and he never wavered. The only place it<\/p>\n

can be bought is Crancularn.” He leaned over the table,<\/p>\n

spoke almost angrily. “Look, do you think I want to go<\/p>\n

gallivanting halfway across a strange world in search of<\/p>\n

some old fart’s pills? I like Clothahump, sure, but I have<\/p>\n

my own life to live. What’s left of it. If he dies leaving me<\/p>\n

stuck here, I might as well be dead. It’s interesting<\/p>\n

enough, your world, but I want to go home, damn it! I<\/p>\n

miss Westwood on the opening night of a Steven Spielberg<\/p>\n

movie, and I miss the bookstores on Hollywood Boule-<\/p>\n

vard, and the beach, and bagels at the deli, and take-out<\/p>\n

Chinese food, and\u2014”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“All right, mate, I believe you. Spare me your memo-<\/p>\n

ries. So it’s a contract, is it? At least you’re learnin’ ‘ow to<\/p>\n

stick up for your rights.” He smiled and tapped the staff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tem was taken aback. He’d acted almost exactly the<\/p>\n

way Mudge would have if their situations had been re-<\/p>\n

versed. The thought was more than a little appalling.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’ll keep your end of the bargain, then?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Aye.” Mudge spoke with obvious reluctance. “I gave<\/p>\n

me word, so I’m stuck with it. Well, a short life but a<\/p>\n

happy one, they say. Tis better than dyin’ in one’s bed.<\/p>\n

Alone, anyway.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“There’s no need for all this talk of dying.” Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

sipped at the mug of cold cider in front of him. “We are<\/p>\n

going to get to Cranculam, obtain the necessary medica-<\/p>\n

tion, and return here. All we’re doing is running an<\/p>\n

errand.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s right, mate. Just an errand.” He belched derisively,<\/p>\n

to the unconcealed disgust of the well-dressed diners<\/p>\n

nearby. “Wot a day it was for me when you tumbled into<\/p>\n

that glade where I was huntin’ so peaceful. Why couldn’t<\/p>\n

you ‘ave settled on some other poor bloke besides old<\/p>\n

Mudge?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You were just lucky. As for your ill fortune, we don’t<\/p>\n

know yet who’s the fool in this play: you for agreeing to<\/p>\n

come with me or me for wanting you to.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

1<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

34<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You singe me privates, mate,” said Mudge, looking<\/p>\n

wounded, an expression he had mastered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“A wonder there’s anything left to singe, after three<\/p>\n

days in that brothel. Finish up and let’s find a place to<\/p>\n

sleep. I’m bushed.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

ill<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It took six tries to finally wake Mudge. After three days of<\/p>\n

nonstop debauchery and the huge mea! of the previous<\/p>\n

night, the otter had to be helped to the bathroom. He got<\/p>\n

his pants on backwards and his boots on opposite feet.<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom straightened him out and together they worked<\/p>\n

their way through Tims witty in search of transportation.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

From a nervous dealer badly in need of business they<\/p>\n

rented a low wooden wagon pulled by a single aged dray<\/p>\n

lizard, promising to drop it off at the port of Yarrowl at the<\/p>\n

mouth of the Tailaroam. From Yarrowl it should be a<\/p>\n

simple matter to book passage on a merchantman making<\/p>\n

the run across the Glittergeist to Snarken.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They succeeded in slipping quietly out of town without<\/p>\n

catching the eye of Madam Lorsha or her hirelings and<\/p>\n

were soon heading south along the narrow trade road.<\/p>\n

Once within the forest Mudge relaxed visibly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

” ‘Peers we gave the old harridan the slip, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom’s eyebrows lifted. “We?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well now, guv’nor, since ’tis we who are goin* on this<\/p>\n

little jaunt and we who are goin’ to risk our lives for the<\/p>\n

sake o’ some half-dotty ol’ wizard, I think ’tis fair enough<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

35<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

36<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

for me to say that ’tis we who escaped the clutches of her<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

haunches.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Plural good and plural bad, is that it?” Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

chucked the reins, trying to spur the ancient lumbering<\/p>\n

reptile to greater speed. “I guess you’re right.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nice of you to agree, mate,” said Mudge slyly. “So<\/p>\n

‘ow’s about lettin’ me ‘ave a looksee at our money?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ll keep an eye on our travel expenses, thanks. I need<\/p>\n

your help with several matters, Mudge, but counting coin<\/p>\n

isn’t one of them.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah well, then.” Mudge leaned back against the hard<\/p>\n

back of the bench, put his arms behind his head, and gazed<\/p>\n

through the tinkling branches at the morning sun. “If you<\/p>\n

don’t trust me, then to ‘ell with you, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“At least if I end up there it’ll be with our money<\/p>\n

intact.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They stopped for lunch beneath a tree with bell leaves<\/p>\n

the size of quart jars. Mudge unpacked snake jerky and<\/p>\n

fruit juice. The appearance of the fruit juice made the otter<\/p>\n

shudder, but he was intelligent enough to know that he’d<\/p>\n

overdone his alcoholic intake just a hair the past week and<\/p>\n

that the percentage in his blood could not be raised much<\/p>\n

higher without permanent damage resulting. He poured<\/p>\n

himself a glass, wincing as he did so.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Something glinted in the glass and he looked sharply to<\/p>\n

his right. Nothing amiss. Bell leaves making music with<\/p>\n

the morning breezes, flying lizards darting from branch to<\/p>\n

branch in pursuit of a psychedelic bee.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Still… Carefully he set down his glass next to the<\/p>\n

wagon wheel. The dray lizard snoozed gratefully in a<\/p>\n

patch of sunlight, resting its massive head on its forelegs.<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom lay in the shade of the tree. All seemed right with<\/p>\n

the world.<\/p>\n

But it wasn’t.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Back in a sec, mate.” Mudge reached into the back of<\/p>\n

the wagon. Instead of food and drink he grabbed for his<\/p>\n

bow and quiver. The crossbow bolt that rammed into the<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

37<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

wood between his reaching hands gave him pause. He<\/p>\n

withdrew them slowly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“A wise decision,” said a voice from the trees.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom sat up fast. “Who said that?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He found himself staring at the business ends of an<\/p>\n

assortment of pikes and spears, wielded by an unpleasant-<\/p>\n

looking assortment of furry assailants.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Me fault,” Mudge muttered, angry at himself. “I<\/p>\n

‘eard ’em comin’, I did, but not quite soon enough.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” said the voice which had<\/p>\n

spoken a moment, before. “There are too many of us<\/p>\n

anyway, and though we are instructed to bring you in<\/p>\n

alive, it wasn’t specified in what condition.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Stepping through the circle of armed warmlanders was a<\/p>\n

coatimundi nearly as tall as Mudge. His natural black<\/p>\n

striping had been enhanced with brown decorations painted<\/p>\n

on muzzle and tail. One front canine was missing, and the<\/p>\n

remainder of the long, sharp teeth were stained yellow. He<\/p>\n

rested one paw on the hilt of a thick, curved dagger belted<\/p>\n

at his waist. The dagger was also stained, but not yellow.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom thought rapidly. Like Mudge’s bow, his own<\/p>\n

duar and ramwood staff lay in the bed of the wagon. If he<\/p>\n

could just get to them…. Well, what if he could? As this<\/p>\n

apparent leader of their captors had said, they were badly<\/p>\n

outnumbered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Right. Wot is it you want with us?” Mudge asked.<\/p>\n

“We’re just a couple of innocent travelers, poor prospects<\/p>\n

for thieves.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The coati shook his head and glared at them over his<\/p>\n

long snout out of bright black eyes. “I’m not interested in<\/p>\n

your worldly possessions, whatever they might be. I’ve<\/p>\n

been ordered by my master to bring you in.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So Lorsha found us out anyway,” the otter muttered.<\/p>\n

He sounded wistful. “Well, them three days were almost<\/p>\n

worth dyin’ for. You should’ve been with me, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, I wasn’t, and they’re not worth dying for from<\/p>\n

my viewpoint.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

38<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Calm yourselves,” said the coati. “No one’s speaking<\/p>\n

of dying here. Cooperate and give me no trouble, and I’ll<\/p>\n

give none back to you.” He squinted at Mudge. “And<\/p>\n

what’s all this chattering about someone named Lorsha?”<\/p>\n

Mudge came back from his memories and made a face<\/p>\n

at the coati. “You ain’t ‘ere to take us back to Madam<\/p>\n

Lorsha of Timswitty?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No. I come from Malderpot.”<\/p>\n

“Malderpot?” Jon-Tom gaped at him.<\/p>\n

“Big town,” Mudge informed him, “full of dour folk<\/p>\n

and little pleasure.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We like it,” said a raccoon hefting a halberd.<\/p>\n

“No offense,” Mudge told him.\u00a0 <\/span>“Who wants us in<\/p>\n

Malderpot?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Our master Zancresta,” said the coati.<\/p>\n

“Who’s this Zancresta?” Jon-Tom asked him.<\/p>\n

A few incredulous looks showed on the faces of their<\/p>\n

captors, including the coati.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You mean you’ve never heard of the Master of Dark-<\/p>\n

ness and Manipulator of the Secret Arts?”<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom shook his head. ” ‘Fraid not.”<\/p>\n

The coati was suddenly uncertain. “Perhaps we have<\/p>\n

made a mistake. Perhaps these are not the ones we were<\/p>\n

sent to fetch. Thile, you and Alo check their wagon.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Two of the band rushed to climb aboard, began going<\/p>\n

through the supplies with fine disregard for neatness. It<\/p>\n

took them only moments to find Jon-Tom’s staff and duar,<\/p>\n

which Thile held up triumphantly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It’s the spellsinger, all right,” said the muskrat.<\/p>\n

“Keep a close watch on his instrument and he’ll do us<\/p>\n

no harm,” the coati instructed his men.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I mean you no harm in any case,” said Jon-Tom.<\/p>\n

“What does your Zancresta want with us?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nothin’ good. You can be certain o’ that, mate,” said<\/p>\n

Mudge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So one of you, at least, has heard of our master.”<\/p>\n

“Aye, I’ve ‘eard of ‘im, thVmgh I don’t mean to flatter<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

39<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘is reputation by it.” He turned to Jon-Tom. “This ‘ere<\/p>\n

Zancresta chap’s the ‘ead wizard not only for the town of<\/p>\n

Malderpot but for much of the northern part o’ the Bellwoods.<\/p>\n

See, each town or village ‘as its own wizard or sorcerer or<\/p>\n

witch, and each o’ them claims to be better than ‘is<\/p>\n

neighbor at the arts o’ magickin’.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Zancresta is the best,” said the coati. “He is the<\/p>\n

master.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I ain’t goin’ to argue the point with you,” said Mudge.<\/p>\n

“I ‘ave no interest whatsoever in wizardry debates and<\/p>\n

functions, for all that I seem to be gettin’ repeatedly<\/p>\n

screwed by ’em.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Now, if it’s the spellsinger ‘ere you’re come after, take<\/p>\n

‘im and let me go. I’m only a poor traveler tryin’ ‘is best<\/p>\n

to make it down the windy road o’ life, and I’ve ‘ad a ‘ard<\/p>\n

enough time makin* ends meet as it is without gettin’<\/p>\n

caught up again in the world’s troubles.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It may be true,” said the coati, eyeing him unflatteringly.<\/p>\n

“But I have my orders. They say I am to bring back the<\/p>\n

spellsinger known as Jon-Tom and any who travel with<\/p>\n

him. You will have the chance to plead your case before<\/p>\n

the master. Perhaps he will let you go.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“And if *e don’t?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The coati shrugged. “That’s not my affair.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Easy for you to say,” Mudge grumbled.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Spears prodded Jon-Tom and Mudge into the back of the<\/p>\n

wagon, where they sat with their hands tied behind their<\/p>\n

backs. A couple of the coati’s henchmen took over the<\/p>\n

reins. The little procession swung back northward, slightly<\/p>\n

west of Timswitty but also in the opposite direction from<\/p>\n

Lynchbany and the River Tailaroam.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“This Zancresta ‘as a bad reputation, mate,” Mudge<\/p>\n

whispered to his companion. “Mind now, I’m not denyin’<\/p>\n

‘is abilities. From wot I’ve ‘eard ‘e ain’t bad at sorcerin’,<\/p>\n

but ‘e’s unscrupulous as ‘ell. Cheats on ‘is spells and<\/p>\n

short-changes ‘is incantations, but ‘e’s too powerful for<\/p>\n

anyone to go up against. I’ve ‘ad no dealin’s with ‘im<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

40<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

41<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

tneself, and I stay clear o’ folk from Malderpot. As I said,<\/p>\n

they ain’t much for partyinV<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“From what you tell me about their chief wizard, I can<\/p>\n

see why they aren’t.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Right.” Mudge nodded past the drivers. “Now, ’tis<\/p>\n

clear this ‘ere ringtail knows nothin’ o’ wot ‘is master<\/p>\n

wants with us. That may be somethin’ we can turn to our<\/p>\n

advantage. So somehow we ‘ave to get clear o’ this<\/p>\n

charmin’ bunch o’ throat-slitters before we’re brought up<\/p>\n

before Zancresta himself. If that ‘appens, I ‘ave this funny<\/p>\n

feelin’ that we’ll never see the shores o’ the Glittergeist or<\/p>\n

any other calm water.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t underestimate this one.” Jon-Tom indicated the<\/p>\n

coati, who strolled along in the lead, talking with a couple<\/p>\n

of his band. “He seems more than the usual hired thug.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Fancy clothes can’t hide one’s origin,” said Mudge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No harm in trying.” He raised his voice. “Hey, you,<\/p>\n

leader!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Shut up,” snapped the muskrat from the driver’s<\/p>\n

bench. He showed a short sword. “Or you will eat your<\/p>\n

own tongues for breakfast and can see how your words<\/p>\n

taste then.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I just want a word with your chief. Surely one as<\/p>\n

illustrious as he can spare a prisoner a few minutes of his<\/p>\n

time.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Evidently the coati’s ears were as sensitive as his nose,<\/p>\n

because he slowed his pace until he was walking alongside<\/p>\n

the wagon.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I bear you no hatred, spellsinger. What do you wish to<\/p>\n

talk about? By the way, my name is Chenelska.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t you have any idea what your master wants with<\/p>\n

us? What use has so great and powerful a wizard for a<\/p>\n

mere spellsinger like me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Chenelska considered a moment, then glanced past Jon-<\/p>\n

Tom to Mudge. “Tell me, water rat, is this tall human as<\/p>\n

ignorant as he appears or is he making fun of me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No.” Mudge spoke with sufficient conviction to per-<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

suade the coati that he was telling the truth. ” ‘E’s as<\/p>\n

dumb as he looks.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thanks, Mudge. Nice to know I can rely on your good<\/p>\n

opinion.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t mention it, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Can it be,” said the dumbfounded Chenelska, “that<\/p>\n

you have never heard of the rivalry between our master<\/p>\n

and the one that you serve?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“The one I serve? You mean Clothahump? I don’t serve<\/p>\n

him. I’m not an apprentice or anything like that. He has<\/p>\n

another who serves him. We’re just friends.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Indeed. Good enough friends that you undertake a<\/p>\n

long, dangerous mission on his behalf when he lies too ill<\/p>\n

to travel himself. A mission to cross the Glittergeist in<\/p>\n

search of a rare and precious medicine he requires to cure<\/p>\n

himself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“How the hell do you know that?” Jon-Tom said<\/p>\n

angrily.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The coati grinned and laughed, a single sharp barking.<\/p>\n

“It seems that this Clothahump does have another who<\/p>\n

serves him. A true famulus. A fine, intelligent, hard-<\/p>\n

working apprentice who serves faithfully and well. Except<\/p>\n

when he’s been treated to a few stiff sips of good belly-<\/p>\n

warmer.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sorbl! That stupid big-eyed sot!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The coati nodded, still grinning. “Not that we had to<\/p>\n

work hard at it, you understand. The poor little fellow<\/p>\n

merely wanted companionship, and other servants of my<\/p>\n

master provided it, whereupon the turtle’s servant grew<\/p>\n

extremely talkative.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ll bet he did,” Jon-Tom mumbled disconsolately.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It has always been a matter of great contention in this<\/p>\n

part of the world,” the coati explained, “as to who the<\/p>\n

greater wizard is. Clothahump of the tree or my master<\/p>\n

Zancresta. It didn’t bother my master when opinion was<\/p>\n

divided and drifted back and forth. But it has lately<\/p>\n

become apparent that outside the immediate environs of<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

42<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

43<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Malderpot, the consensus is that your Clothahump is the<\/p>\n

greater.” He moved closer to the wagon and lowered his<\/p>\n

voice so that his band could not overhear.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It’s true that saving the whole world is a tough act to<\/p>\n

follow. When word came of the victory over the Piated<\/p>\n

Folk at the Jo-Troom Gate, and the part your master<\/p>\n

Clothahump played in it, there was very little my master<\/p>\n

couid do to counteract the great shift in public opinion,<\/p>\n

and he has been in a murderous mood ever since.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘As if Clothahump saved all the warmlands just to spite<\/p>\n

him,” Jon-Tom said disgustedly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Be that as it may, wizards can be very touchy about<\/p>\n

such things. Zancresta dwells on evil spells and prepares<\/p>\n

toxic presents and calls down all who cross him. He has<\/p>\n

been dangerous to approach ever since this happened. The<\/p>\n

only way for him to regain his self-respect and cancel his<\/p>\n

shame is to do something to make himself again be<\/p>\n

considered the equal of the turtie of the tree. Yet he sees<\/p>\n

no way to do this. This Clothahump refuses all challenges<\/p>\n

and duels.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Clothahump,” Jon-Tom explained politely, “doesn’t<\/p>\n

think much of games.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Word travels that he does not because he is getting<\/p>\n

senile.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom didn’t reply. There was nothing to be gained by<\/p>\n

arguing with Chenelska and angering him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Therefore, my master is badly frustrated, since there is<\/p>\n

no way he can prove that he is truly the most skilled in the<\/p>\n

wizardly arts.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Word arrived recently about this severe sickness<\/p>\n

Clothahump is suffering from and that he cannot cure with<\/p>\n

his own magic, that he needs medicine obtainable only<\/p>\n

from a land beyond Snarken. My master was delighted by<\/p>\n

it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“When we get out of this,” Jon-Tom whispered to<\/p>\n

Mudge, “I’m going to string Sorbl up by his feet and hang<\/p>\n

him beak-first over an open bottle of brandy.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Mate, I truly ‘ope you get that opportunity,” said<\/p>\n

Mudge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Thanks to the information the wizard’s famulus pro-<\/p>\n

vided, we were able to locate and intercept you,” said<\/p>\n

Chenelska.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What does your master intend doing with us?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I do not know, man. For now, it would seem sufficient<\/p>\n

to prevent you from carrying out your mission and returning<\/p>\n

with the necessary medicine. Perhaps after he has weakened<\/p>\n

enough my master will take pity on him and travel south to<\/p>\n

allow him the privilege of begging for his help.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Clothahump would never do that,” Jon-Tom assured<\/p>\n

the coati. “He’ll spit in Zancresta’s face before he asks his<\/p>\n

help.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Then I imagine he will die.” The coati spoke without<\/p>\n

emotion. “It is of no import to me. I only serve my<\/p>\n

master.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes, you’re a good slave.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The coati moved closer to the wagon and slapped the<\/p>\n

sideboard angrily. “I am no slave!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“A slave is one who unquestioningly carries out the<\/p>\n

orders of his master without considering the possible<\/p>\n

consequences.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know the consequences of what I do.” Chenelska<\/p>\n

glowered at him, no longer friendly. “Of one consequence<\/p>\n

I am sure. I will emerge from this little journey far better<\/p>\n

ofif than you. You think you’re smart, man? I was instruct-<\/p>\n

ed in all the tricks a spellsinger can play. You can make<\/p>\n

only music with your voice and not magic without your<\/p>\n

instrument. If I choose to cut your throat, I will be safer<\/p>\n

still.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“As for the water rat that accompanies you, it may be<\/p>\n

that the master will free him. If he does so, I will be<\/p>\n

waiting for him myself, to greet him as is his due.” With<\/p>\n

that, the coati left them, increasing his stride to again<\/p>\n

assume his place at the head of the little procession.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

44<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m beginnin’ to wish you’d left me at Madam Lorsha’s,”<\/p>\n

the otter said later that night.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“To Tork’s tender mercies?” Jon-Tom snorted. “You’d<\/p>\n

be scattered all over Timswitty by now if I hadn’t shown<\/p>\n

up to save you, and you know it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Better to die after three days o’ bliss than to lie in<\/p>\n

some filthy cell in Malderpot contemplatin’ a more mun-<\/p>\n

dane way o’ passin’.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We’re not dead yet. That’s something.”<\/p>\n

“Is it now? You’re a fine one for graspin’ at straws.”<\/p>\n

“I once saw a man start a fire with nothing more than a<\/p>\n

blade of dry grass. It kept both of us warm through a night<\/p>\n

in high mountains.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well ‘e ain’t ‘ere and neither is ‘is fire.”<\/p>\n

“You give up too quickly.” Jon-Tom looked ahead, to<\/p>\n

where Chenelska strode proudly at the head of his band.<\/p>\n

“I could put in for a writ of habeas corpus after we arrive,<\/p>\n

but somehow I don’t think it would have much sway with<\/p>\n

this Zancresta.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Wot’s that, mate? Some kind of otherworldly magic?”<\/p>\n

“Yes. We’re going to need something like it to get out<\/p>\n

of this with our heads in place. And let’s not forget poor<\/p>\n

Clothahump for worrying about our own skins. He’s de-<\/p>\n

pending on us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Aye, and see ‘ow well ‘is trust is placed.”<\/p>\n

They kept to back roads and trails, staying under cover<\/p>\n

of the forest, avoiding intervening communities. Chenelska<\/p>\n

intended to avoid unnecessary confrontations as well as<\/p>\n

keep his not always reliable troops clear of civilization’s<\/p>\n

temptations. So they made good time and after a number<\/p>\n

of days arrived on the outskirts of a town too small to be a<\/p>\n

city but too large to be called a village.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A crudely fashioned but solid stone wall encircled it, in<\/p>\n

contrast to the open city boundaries of Lynchbany and<\/p>\n

Timswitty. It wasn’t a very high wall, a fact Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

commented on as they headed west.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A small door provided an entrance. The prisoners were<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

45<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

hustled quickly down several flights of stone stairs, past<\/p>\n

crackling torches smelling of creosote, and thrust into a<\/p>\n

dark, odiferous cell. An obese porcupine turned the large<\/p>\n

key in the iron lock and departed, leaving them alone in<\/p>\n

the near blackness.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Still optimistic, mate?” Mudge leaned against a dank<\/p>\n

wall and sniffed. “Cast into a dungeon without hope of<\/p>\n

rescue to spend our last hours talkin’ philosophy.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom was running his fingers speculatively over the<\/p>\n

mossy walls. “Not very well masoned or mortared.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I stand corrected,” said Mudge sardonically. “Talkin’<\/p>\n

about architecture.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Architecture’s an interesting subject, Mudge. Don’t be<\/p>\n

so quick to dismiss it. If you know how something is put<\/p>\n

together, you might learn how to take it apart.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s right, guv’nor. You find us a loose stone in the<\/p>\n

wall, take it out, and bring the whole stinkin* city down on<\/p>\n

top o’ us. Then we’ll be well and truly free.” He slunk eff<\/p>\n

toward a comer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not even a chamber pot in this cesspool. I ‘ope they<\/p>\n

kill us fast instead o’ leavin’ us to die with this smell.” He<\/p>\n

moved back to grab the bars of the cell, shouted toward the<\/p>\n

jailer.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hey mate, get your fat ass over “ere!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

In no hurry, the porcupine ambled across the floor from<\/p>\n

his chair. When he reached the bars he turned his back,<\/p>\n

and Mudge backed hastily away from the two-foot-long<\/p>\n

barbed quills.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I will thank you to be a little more polite.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Right, sure, guv. Take ‘er easy. No offense. You can<\/p>\n

imagine me state o’ mind, chucked in ‘ere like an old<\/p>\n

coat.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No, I cannot,” said the jaiier. “I do my job and go<\/p>\n

home to my family. I do not imagine your state of mind.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Excuse me,” said Jon-Tom, “but have you any idea<\/p>\n

how long we are to be held in here?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah, no.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

46<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

47<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Slow. Their jailer was a little slow in all areas. It was a<\/p>\n

characteristic of all porcupines, and this one was no<\/p>\n

exception. That didn’t mean he was a moron. Tread<\/p>\n

slowly, Jon-Tom warned himself.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Our possessions have become separated from us,” he<\/p>\n

went on. “Do you know what was done with them?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Lazily, the porcupine pointed upward. “They are in the<\/p>\n

main guard chamber, to be taken out and sent along with<\/p>\n

you when word comes for you to be moved.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Do you know what’s going to happen to us?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The porcupine shook his head. “No idea. None of my<\/p>\n

business. I do my job and stay out of other people’s<\/p>\n

business, I do.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge instantly divined his companion’s intentions,<\/p>\n

said sadly, “We were searched before we were sent down<\/p>\n

here. I wonder if they found your sack o’ gold, mate?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sack of gold?” Evidently the porcupine wasn’t all that<\/p>\n

slow. For the first time the half-lidded eyes opened fully,<\/p>\n

then narrowed again. “You are trying to fool me. Chenelska<\/p>\n

would never leave a sack of gold in a place where others<\/p>\n

could find it and steal it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yeah, but wot if ‘e didn’t think to look for somethin’<\/p>\n

like that?” Mudge said insinuatingly. “We just don’t want<\/p>\n

‘im to get ‘is ‘ands on it, after ‘im throwin’ us down ‘ere<\/p>\n

and all. If you wanted to find out if we were lyin’ or not,<\/p>\n

all you’d ‘ave to do is go look for yourself, mate. You ‘ave<\/p>\n

the keys, and we ain’t ‘ardly goin’ to dig our way out o’<\/p>\n

this cell while you’re gone.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘That is true.” The jailer started for the stairs. ‘ ‘Do not<\/p>\n

get any funny ideas. You cannot cut through the bars, and<\/p>\n

there is no one else here but me.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, we ain’t goin’ anywhere, we ain’t,” Mudge insisted.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“By the way,” Jon-Tom added offhandedly, “as long as<\/p>\n

you’re going upstairs, maybe you could do something for<\/p>\n

us? This is an awfully dank and somber place. A little<\/p>\n

music would do a lot to lighten it up. Surely working<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

down here day after day, the atmosphere must get pretty<\/p>\n

depressing after a while.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No, it does not,” said the porcupine as he ascended<\/p>\n

the stairs. “I like it dank and somber and quiet, though I<\/p>\n

would be interested in hearing the kind of mxisic you could<\/p>\n

play. You see, Chenelska told me you were a spellsinger.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom’s heart sank. “Not really. I’m more of an<\/p>\n

apprentice. I don’t know enough yet to really spellsing. I<\/p>\n

just like to make music.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nonetheless, I cannot take the chance.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Wait!” Jon-Tom called desperately. “If you know<\/p>\n

what spellsinging’s all about, then surely you know that a<\/p>\n

spellsinger can’t make magic without his instrument.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That is so.” The porcupine eyed him warily.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well then, how about this? You bring down my duar,<\/p>\n

my instrument, but after you give it to me you chain my<\/p>\n

hands so I can’t pull them back through these bars. That<\/p>\n

way if I tried to sing anything that sounded dangerous to<\/p>\n

you, you could yank the duar away from me before I could<\/p>\n

finish and I couldn’t do a thing to stop you from doing<\/p>\n

so.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The jailer considered, wrestling with unfamiliar con-<\/p>\n

cepts. Jon-Tom and Mudge waited breathlessly, glad of the<\/p>\n

darkness. It helped to conceal their anxiety.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes, I think that would be safe enough,” the jailer said<\/p>\n

finally. “And I am curious to hear you sing. I will see if<\/p>\n

your instrument is with your other possessions. While I<\/p>\n

look for the sack of gold.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You won’t regret it!” Jon-Tom called after him as he<\/p>\n

disappeared up the stairway. As soon as he’d left, Mudge<\/p>\n

looked excitedly at his friend.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Cor, mate, can you really do anythin’ tied like that?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I don’t know. I have to try. It’s clear he wasn’t just<\/p>\n

going to hand me the duar without some kind of safeguard.<\/p>\n

I just don’t know what I could sing that could help us out<\/p>\n

of here before he decided it sounded threatening and took<\/p>\n

the duar away from me. Not that I ever know what to sing.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

48<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I had the same problem in my own world. But it was all I<\/p>\n

could think of.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You better think o’ somethin’, mate, or it’ll be two<\/p>\n

worlds that’ll be missin’ you permanent. I don’t know<\/p>\n

what this Zancresta has planned for us, but as much as ‘e<\/p>\n

hates Clothahump, I don’t figure on ‘im bein’ overly polite<\/p>\n

to a couple o* the turtle’s servants.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We’re not his servants. At least, you’re not.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Aye, an’ you saw ‘ow far that got me with Chenelska,<\/p>\n

I’m stuck with the bedamned label just like you are, like it<\/p>\n

or not. So think of somethin’. Somethin’ effective, and<\/p>\n

fast.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I don’t know.” Jon-Tom fought with his memory.<\/p>\n

“Practically everything I know is hard rock.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge gestured at the walls. “Strikes me as damned<\/p>\n

appropriate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not like that,” Jon-Tom explained impatiently. “It’s a<\/p>\n

name for a kind of popular music. You’ve heard me sing<\/p>\n

it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Aye, an1 I don’t pretend to understand a word o’ it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Then you have something in common with my parents.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted them<\/p>\n

momentarily.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’d better think up somethin’ quick, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ll try.” He stuck his arms out between the bars,<\/p>\n

waiting expectantly. His spirits were boosted by the sight<\/p>\n

of the undamaged duar dangling from one of the jailer’s<\/p>\n

paws.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“There was no gold,” the porcupine declared sourly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Sorry.” Mudge sighed fitfully. “About wot one would<\/p>\n

expect from a snurge like Zancresta. Still, ’tweren’t no<\/p>\n

‘arm in lookin’, were there?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What were you two talking about while I was gone? I<\/p>\n

heard you talking.” The porcupine looked suspicious.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nothin’ much, mate. Just makin’ conversation. We<\/p>\n

talk while you’re right ‘ere, too, don’t we?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes, that is so. Very well.” He stepped forward and<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

49<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

made as if to hand the duar to Jon-Tom, then hesitated. “I<\/p>\n

do not know.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, come on,” Jon-Tom urged him, a big smile<\/p>\n

frozen on his face. “A little music would be nice. Not<\/p>\n

everyone has the chance to hear an apprentice spellsinger<\/p>\n

make music just for pleasure.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That is what concerns me.” The jailer stepped back<\/p>\n

and rummaged through a wooden chest. When he returned<\/p>\n

it was to clap a pair of thick leather cuffs on Jon-Tom’s<\/p>\n

wrists. They were connected to one another by a chain. He<\/p>\n

also, to Jon-Tom’s dismay, tied a thick cord around the<\/p>\n

neck of the duar.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“There,” he said, apparently satisfied, and handed over<\/p>\n

the instrument. Jon-Tom’s fingers closed gratefully over<\/p>\n

the familiar wooden surface, lightly stroked the double set<\/p>\n

of strings.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The porcupine returned to his chair, keeping a firm grip<\/p>\n

on his end of the cord. “Now if you try anything funny I<\/p>\n

don’t even have to run over to you. All I have to do is pull<\/p>\n

this rope.” He gave the cord an experimental yank, and<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom had to fight to hold onto the duar.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I need a little slack,” he pleaded, “or I won’t be able<\/p>\n

to play at all.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“All right.” The jailer relaxed his grip slightly. “But if I<\/p>\n

think you are trying to trick me I will pull it right out of<\/p>\n

your hands and smash it against the floor.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t try anything like that. Would<\/p>\n

I, Mudge?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, no, sor. Not after you’ve all but given this<\/p>\n

gentlebeing your word.” The otter assumed an air of mock<\/p>\n

unconcern as he settled down on the floor to listen. “Play<\/p>\n

us a lullaby, Jon-Tom. Somethin’ soothin’ and relaxin’ to<\/p>\n

‘eip us poor ones forget the troubles we face and the<\/p>\n

problems o’ the world.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes, play something like that,” asked the porcupine.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom struggled with himself. Best to first play a<\/p>\n

couple of innocuous ditties to lull this sod into a false<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

SO<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

sense of security. The trouble was, being mostly into<\/p>\n

heavy metal, he knew about as many gentle tunes as he did<\/p>\n

operatic arias. Somehow something by Ozzy Osbourne or<\/p>\n

Ted Nugent didn’t seem right, nor did anything by KISS.<\/p>\n

He considered “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC\/DC,<\/p>\n

decided quickly that one stanza would cost him control of<\/p>\n

the duar permanently.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He decided to take a chance with some golden oldies.<\/p>\n

Maybe a few of Roy Orbison’s songs, even if his voice<\/p>\n

wasn’t up to it. It seemed to work. The porcupine lazed<\/p>\n

back in his chair, obviously content, but still holding tight<\/p>\n

to the cord.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom segued into the part of one song where the<\/p>\n

lyrics went “the day you walked out on me” and the jailer<\/p>\n

didn’t stir, but neither did the walls part to let them<\/p>\n

through. Discouraged, he moved on to “America” by Neil<\/p>\n

Diamond. A few faint images of the Statue of Liberty and<\/p>\n

Ellis Island flickered fitfully in the cell, but Jon-Tom did<\/p>\n

not find himself standing safe at either location.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then he noticed Mudge. The otter sat back in the shad-<\/p>\n

ows making long pulling and throwing motions. It took<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom a moment to understand what his companion was<\/p>\n

driving at. In the middle of humming “Won’t Get Fooled<\/p>\n

Again,” he figured the otter’s movements out.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The porcupine had tied the cord to the duar in order to<\/p>\n

be able to jerk it quickly out of Jon-Tom’s hands. If they<\/p>\n

could somehow gain control of the rope, they might be<\/p>\n

able to make a small lasso and cast it toward a weapon or<\/p>\n

even the big keyring lying on the table.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

In order to try that, of course, they had to somehow<\/p>\n

incapacitate their jailer. Since he seemed half-asleep al-<\/p>\n

ready, Jon-Tom softened his voice as much as possible and<\/p>\n

sang the sweetest ballads he could think of, finishing with<\/p>\n

“Sounds of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel. That par-<\/p>\n

ticularly apt selection set the porcupine to snoozing. To<\/p>\n

make sure, he added a relaxing rendition of “Scarborough<\/p>\n

Fair.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

I<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

51<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Carefully, he tugged gently on the cord. Two half-witted<\/p>\n

eyes popped wide open and the line went taut.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I told you not to try anything,” the porcupine growled.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

For an instant Jon-Tom was sure they’d lose the duar<\/p>\n

along with their last hope. “I didn’t mean anything!” he<\/p>\n

said desperately. “It’s only that playing in the same<\/p>\n

position all the time hurts my arms. I wasn’t doing<\/p>\n

anything else.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well…” The jailer slumped back in his chair. “See<\/p>\n

that you don’t do it no more. Please play another song. I<\/p>\n

never heard anything like them. Pretty.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Despairingly, Jon-Tom simply sang the first thing that<\/p>\n

came to mind, the theme song from one of the Rocky<\/p>\n

films. Maybe it was his frustration, perhaps his sudden<\/p>\n

indifference. Whatever the reason, he almost thought he<\/p>\n

could feel the power running through him. He tried to<\/p>\n

focus on it, really working himself into the useless song in<\/p>\n

the hope it might lead to something better.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A faint smell of ozone began to filter into the air of the<\/p>\n

dungeon. Something crackled near the ceiling. Mudge<\/p>\n

scrambled warily back into the farthest comer of the cell.<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom jumped as an electric shock ran up his wrists. He<\/p>\n

tried to pull back into the cell, found he was trapped<\/p>\n

against the bars by the leather wristcuffs and linking chain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Oh, shit, he mumbled silently. I’ve gone and done<\/p>\n

something weird again.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Only this time he was trapped up against whatever it<\/p>\n

was. Something was materializing in the air next to him.<\/p>\n

He tugged futilely at the leather cuffs, dropping the duar in<\/p>\n

the process. The instrument was glowing brightly as it<\/p>\n

bounced around on the floor like a toad at a disco.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The slow-moving porcupine was on his feet and staring.<\/p>\n

He’d abandoned the cord in favor of edging ’round toward<\/p>\n

the rack of weapons. Selecting a long spear, he aimed it at<\/p>\n

the cell. Jon-Tom was uncomfortably aware of the fact that<\/p>\n

if the jailer so chose, he could run him through where he<\/p>\n

stood.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What are you doing, spellsinger? Stop it!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

52<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m not doing anything!” Jon-Tom prayed his hysteria<\/p>\n

was as convincing as it was heartfelt. “Untie my hands!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The jailer ignored him, gazing in stupefied fascination at<\/p>\n

the slowly rotating cylinder of fluorescent gas that had<\/p>\n

gathered inside the cell. “Don’t lie to me. Something is<\/p>\n

happening. Something is happening!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know something’s happening, you moron! Let me<\/p>\n

loose!” He wrenched uselessly at his bonds.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The jailer continued to keep his distance. ‘ ‘I am warning<\/p>\n

you, spellsinger. Put an end to this magic right now!”<\/p>\n

Keeping his thorny back against the walls, he edged<\/p>\n

around until he was standing close to the bars. From there<\/p>\n

he was able to prod the prisoner with the tip of his spear. It<\/p>\n

was extremely sharp.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I can’t stop it! I don’t know what I did and I don’t<\/p>\n

know what’s happening.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I do not believe you.” The jailer’s voice had turned<\/p>\n

shrill and he was jabbing seriously with the spear.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Suddenly a loud bang came from the cloud of gas. The<\/p>\n

glowing cylinder dissipated to reveal a massive, powerful<\/p>\n

form at least seven feet tall standing in the center of the<\/p>\n

jail cell. It had to crouch to keep from bumping its head<\/p>\n

against the ceiling.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge quailed back against the wall while Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

thought wildly about his last song. The indifferently sung<\/p>\n

song which apparently had been far more effective than all<\/p>\n

its anxiety-laden predecessors. The theme song from that<\/p>\n

Rocky film … what was it?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Oh, yeah. The “Eye of the Tiger.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Actually there were two of them, and they glared around<\/p>\n

in bewilderment. Jon-Tom had never seen a white tiger<\/p>\n

before, much less one that wore armor and stood on two<\/p>\n

legs. Leather and brass strips made a skirt which covered<\/p>\n

the body from waist to the knees. Additional armor protected<\/p>\n

the back of arms and legs, was secured over the legs with<\/p>\n

crisscrossing leather straps. A finely worked brass helmet<\/p>\n

shielded the head, and an intricate inscription covered the<\/p>\n

thin nose guard. Holes cut in the top of the helmet allowed<\/p>\n

the ears to protrude.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The huge furry skull glanced in all directions, taking in<\/p>\n

unanticipated surroundings. White and black ears flicked<\/p>\n

nervously as a quarter ton of tiger tried to orient itself.<\/p>\n

Paws dropped to sheaths, and in an instant each one held a<\/p>\n

five-foot-long sword with razor-sharp serrated edges.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“By all the nine feline demons, what’s going on heah? I<\/p>\n

declare I’ll have some answers right quick or there’ll be<\/p>\n

hell to pay.” Slitted eyes fixed on the bars. She took a step<\/p>\n

forward and glared down at the quivering porcupine.<\/p>\n

“You! What is this place? Why am ah locked up? Y’all<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

53<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

54<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

55<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

answer me fast or ah’ll make a necklace out of yo<\/p>\n

backbone!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“G-g-g-guards,” the porcupine stammered. It came out<\/p>\n

as a whisper. Aware his cry wasn’t reaching very far, he<\/p>\n

raised his voice. “Guards!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Quit stabling and talk to me.” Feminine, Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

decided. Thunderous, but undeniably feminine. The conju-<\/p>\n

ration was a she. She turned to eye Mudge. “Yo theah.<\/p>\n

Why won’t he talk to me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You talkin’ to me, m’dear?” Mudge inquired reluctantly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She reached down and lifted him easily off the floor with<\/p>\n

one paw, setting her second sword aside but within easy<\/p>\n

reach. Fully extended, her claws were nearly as long as<\/p>\n

Mudge’s fingers.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Now, who else would ah be talking to, you little<\/p>\n

sponge?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Blimey, m’dear, I ain’t considered the possibility.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Guards!” Suddenly it occurred to the porcupine that<\/p>\n

since he wasn’t having much luck obtaining help with his<\/p>\n

voice, it might be efficacious to employ his feet. He raced<\/p>\n

up the stairs with unexpected speed. “Guards, help me!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hey, yo!” The tigress dropped Mudge, who promptly<\/p>\n

retreated to the back of the cell. “Come back heah! Yo<\/p>\n

heah me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He thinks you’re a threat to him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What’s that?” For the first time she focused her<\/p>\n

attention on Jon-Tom.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I said, he thinks you’re a threat to him. Because<\/p>\n

you’re in here with us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Y’all are awfully big fo a human.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“And you’re awfully big period.” He continued strug-<\/p>\n

gling with the cuffs that bound him to the bars of the cell.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What is this place?” She turned slowly to make a<\/p>\n

more careful inspection of the prison. She did not appear<\/p>\n

frightened. Only irritated.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We’re in a dungeon in a town called Malderpot.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nevah heard of it,” said the feline amazon. “A dun-<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

geon, you say. I can see that fo mahself, honey.” She eyed<\/p>\n

his restraints. “Why ah yo tied up like that?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m a spellsinger,” he explained. “I’ve been doing a<\/p>\n

little singing and I think I accidently brought you here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So that’s it!” Jon-Tom did his best not to cower away<\/p>\n

from those burning yellow eyes. She stepped back and<\/p>\n

hefted both her swords. “Well then, y’all can just send me<\/p>\n

back.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He squirmed against the bars. “I, uh, I’m afraid I can’t<\/p>\n

do that. 1 don’t know how I brought you here. I can try<\/p>\n

later, maybe. But not without my duar.” He pointed into<\/p>\n

the room. “And I can’t play it with my hands tied like<\/p>\n

this.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, that much is obvious. Ah’ve got eyes, yo<\/p>\n

know.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Very pretty eyes, too.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Huh,” she said, a little more softly. “Spellsingah, yo<\/p>\n

say? Yo sound moah like a solicitah to me.” Jon-Tom<\/p>\n

didn’t inform her about his legal training, not being sure of<\/p>\n

her opinion of solicitors.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

One sword suddenly cut forward and down. Mudge let<\/p>\n

out a half moan, half squeak, and Jon-Tom closed his<\/p>\n

eyes. But the sword passed between the bars to delicately<\/p>\n

cut the chain linking his wrist cuffs. A couple of quick<\/p>\n

twists of a clawed paw and his hands were free. He spoke,<\/p>\n

as he rubbed the circulation back into his wrists.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I still need the duar.” Loud noises reached them from<\/p>\n

somewhere on the level above, and he hurried his introduc-<\/p>\n

tions. ‘-‘That’s Mudge, I’m Jon-Tom Meriweather.” He<\/p>\n

recalled the song he’d sung prior to “Eye of the Tiger.”<\/p>\n

“By any chance would your name be Sage, Rosemary, or<\/p>\n

Thyme?” Somehow Scarborough didn’t seem a possibility.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Close enuf. Ah am called Rcseroar.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom nodded to himself. Once again his songs and<\/p>\n

his desires had gotten themselves thoroughly mixed. He<\/p>\n

took a deep breath, repeated the gist of a by now familiar<\/p>\n

story.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

56<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

57<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We’re trying to help a wizard who is dying. Because<\/p>\n

of that a jealous wizard is trying to prevent us from doing<\/p>\n

so. He had us captured, brought here, and locked up.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s no business of mine,” said the tigress. “Yo<\/p>\n

really think man eyes are pretty?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Extremely so.” Why didn’t Mudge chip in with a<\/p>\n

word or two? he wondered. He was better at this sort of<\/p>\n

thing. But the otter hugged his comer of the cell and kept<\/p>\n

his mouth shut. Jon-Tom plunged on. “Like topaz.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yo have a gift of words as well as music, don’t yo?<\/p>\n

Well, let me tell yo, ah am not subject to the simple<\/p>\n

flattery of the male of any species!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Of course you’re not. I didn’t mean for you to think I<\/p>\n

was intentionally flattering you, or anything like that. I just<\/p>\n

made a simple statement of fact.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Did y’all, now? Where do yo have to go to help this<\/p>\n

dying friend of yours?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Across the Glittergeist Sea.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So ah’m that fah west, am ah?” She shook her head in<\/p>\n

wonder. “It’s a peculiah world we live in.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jon-Tom muttered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah’ve nevah been to an ocean, much less the<\/p>\n

Glittergeist.” She looked out through the bars. “So that’s<\/p>\n

yo instrument fo making magic?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It is. Also, the keys are on the table nearby. If we<\/p>\n

could get ahold of the rope attached to the duar, we could<\/p>\n

maybe drag the keys over here.” He eyed the stairwell.<\/p>\n

“But I don’t think we’ve got much time.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, sugah, if it’s the keys you want. . .” Roseroar<\/p>\n

put one paw on a bar to the left, the other on the bar<\/p>\n

immediately opposite, inhaled mightily, and pushed. Mus-<\/p>\n

cles rippled beneath the armor.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There was a groan and the metal bent like spaghetti. The<\/p>\n

tigress stepped through the resultant gap, walked over to<\/p>\n

the table, and picked up the keyring.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yo still want these?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge was already out in the corridor. Jon-Tom was<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

eht on his heels. He snatched the duar and slung it over<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

his shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I think we’ll be able to manage without them. Roseroar,<\/p>\n

you’re quite a lady.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Aye,\u00a0 <\/span>with a delicate and ladylike touch,”\u00a0 <\/span>Mudge<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah think ah like you two,” she said thoughtfully,<\/p>\n

staring at Mudge, “though ah can’t decide if y’all are<\/p>\n

trying to be funny or flattering.” She gestured with the two<\/p>\n

heavy swords. “Ah hope fo yo sake y’all are trying to be<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

funny.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom hastened to reassure her. “You’ve got to take<\/p>\n

whatever Mudge says with a grain of salt. Comments like<\/p>\n

that are part of his nature. Sort of like a disease.” He<\/p>\n

turned to bestow a warning look on the otter.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah can see that,” said the tigress. “Well, ah don’t<\/p>\n

know how ah’m going to get home, but ah sure don’t<\/p>\n

fancy this hole. Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Suits me,” said Jon-Tom agreeably.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

At that moment the porcupine appeared at the top of the<\/p>\n

stairs, preceded by a pair of big, heavily armed wolves.<\/p>\n

They saw Roseroar about the time she saw them. She<\/p>\n

emitted a battle cry, a mixture of roar and curse, that shook<\/p>\n

moss from the ceiling. Waving both swords like propel-<\/p>\n

11” lers, she charged the stairway, which cleared with astonishing<\/p>\n

speed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge executed a little bow and gestured with his right<\/p>\n

hand. “After you, master o’ magic and spellsinger<\/p>\n

extraordinaire.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom made a face at him, hurried to follow Roseroar<\/p>\n

upward. From ahead sounded shouts, screams, frantic<\/p>\n

cries, and yelps. Above all rose the tigress’s earthshaking<\/p>\n

growls.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t be so quick to compliment me,” Jon-Tom told<\/p>\n

the otter. “She’s not what I was trying to conjure up.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I know that, guv’nor,” said Mudge, striding along<\/p>\n

happily in his companion’s wake. “It never is, wot? But<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

58<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

even though you never get wot you’re after with your<\/p>\n

spellsingin’, wotever you gets always seems to work out.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Tell me that again when she finds out there’s no way I<\/p>\n

can send her home-“<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Now, mate,” Mudge told him as they started up to the<\/p>\n

next level, “wot’s the use o’ creatin’ worry where there<\/p>\n

ain’t none? Besides,” he went on, his grin widening, “if<\/p>\n

she turns quarrelsome, you can tell ‘er ‘ow beautiful ‘er<\/p>\n

eyes are.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, shut up.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They emerged into the main guardroom, which looked<\/p>\n

as if a modest typhoon had thundered through it. Every<\/p>\n

table was overturned and broken furniture littered the floor.<\/p>\n

Broken spears and pikes sopped up spilled liquid from<\/p>\n

shattered jugs. A couple of the guards remained, decoratively<\/p>\n

draped over the broken furniture. None offered a protest as<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom and Mudge began to search the still intact chests<\/p>\n

and drawers.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

One .yielded Mudge’s longbow and arrows, another<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom’s ramwood fighting staff. There was no sign of<\/p>\n

the full purse Clothahump had given him, nor did he<\/p>\n

expect to find it. Mudge was more disappointed than his<\/p>\n

companion at the absence of the gold.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Bloody bedamned stinkin’ thieves,” he mumbled, ig-<\/p>\n

noring the fact that he’d lifted a purse or two in his own<\/p>\n

time.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Be quiet.” Jon-Tom led him up the next flight of<\/p>\n

stairs. “From the way you’re carrying on, you’d think this<\/p>\n

was the first time you’d ever been penniless.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m not sayin’ that, mate,” replied Mudge, putting a<\/p>\n

leash on his lamentations, “but when I gets friendly with a<\/p>\n

bit o’ gold or silver and it ups and disappears on me, I feel<\/p>\n

as if I’ve lost a good friend. The loss strikes me to the<\/p>\n

quick.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“One of these days it’d be nice to see you get so<\/p>\n

emotional over something besides money.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You do me an injustice, mate.” Mudge carried his bow<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

59<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

in front of him, a hunting arrow notched and ready to fire.<\/p>\n

If the fates were kind they’d give him one clear shot at<\/p>\n

Chenelska or his bullyboys. Nothing would please him<\/p>\n

more than to be able to give the coati the shaft.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You want emotional?” he continued as they climbed.<\/p>\n

“You should’ve seen me at Madam Lorsha’s.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m talking about honest emotion, about caring. Not<\/p>\n

lust.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Cor, you mean there’s a difference?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The third landing was the last. They emerged into a<\/p>\n

small open square lit by torches and oil lamps. To their left<\/p>\n

was the city wall, to the right the outermost buildings of<\/p>\n

the town. The light danced wildly as sources of illumina-<\/p>\n

tion were hastily moved to different positions. Shouts and<\/p>\n

yells filled the air.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom ducked as a wolf whizzed over his head. It<\/p>\n

pinwheeled once before striking the wall with a sickening<\/p>\n

thud.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Roseroar’s efforts threw everything into confusion. Horns<\/p>\n

and shouts were beginning to rouse a whole section of the<\/p>\n

community. Lights were starting to appear in nearby windows<\/p>\n

as residents were awakened by the commotion.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge bounced gleefully up and down, pointing at the<\/p>\n

evidence of the chaos the tigress was causing. “Wot a<\/p>\n

show! The poor buggers must think the ‘ole bloomin’ city<\/p>\n

is under attack.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Maybe they’re right.” Jon-Tom started forward.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Hey, you two!” Roseroar called to them as she idly<\/p>\n

batted aside a large rat armed with a short sword who had<\/p>\n

tried to sneak under her guard. The rodent went skidding<\/p>\n

across the paving stones, shedding bits and pieces of armor<\/p>\n

and flesh as he went. “Ovah heah! This way!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They ran toward her. Jon-Tom placed his staff in front of<\/p>\n

him while Mudge ran backward to guard their rear, his<\/p>\n

short legs a blur. As they ran they dodged spears and<\/p>\n

arrows. Mudge responded to each attack individually, and<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

6O<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

61<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

they were rewarded as one figure after another fell from<\/p>\n

the wall above.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Snarling, a hyena draped in heavy chain mail headed<\/p>\n

right for Ion-Tom, swinging a viciously studded mace over<\/p>\n

his head. Jon-Tom blocked it with his staff, and the<\/p>\n

ramwood held as the mace’s chain wrapped around it. He<\/p>\n

pulled and twisted in one motion, bringing the knobbed<\/p>\n

end of the staff down on his assailant’s helmet. The hyena<\/p>\n

dropped like a stone. They ran on, Jon-Tom unwrapping<\/p>\n

the chain from his staff.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Then they were up against the thick wooden door in the<\/p>\n

city wall. Crossbow bolts thudded into the wood or splintered<\/p>\n

against the rock as the wall’s garrison struggled to regroup.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge inspected it rapidly. “Locked, damn it, from the<\/p>\n

other side!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Pahdon me,” said Roseroar. While they covered her<\/p>\n

she put her back against the door, dug her feet into the<\/p>\n

pavement, and shoved. The door broke with a snap, the<\/p>\n

wood holding but not the iron hinges. It fell with a crash.<\/p>\n

The trio ran out, pursued by yells and weapons. No one<\/p>\n

chose to pursue beyond the city wall in person. The tigress<\/p>\n

had demonstrated what she could do at close range, and<\/p>\n

Malderpot’s soldiery had taken the lesson to heart. They<\/p>\n

held back, waiting for someone higher up to give the<\/p>\n

necessary orders, and praying those directions would take<\/p>\n

their time arriving.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Before they did, the fugitives were deep within the<\/p>\n

concealment offered by the Bellwoods and the night.<\/p>\n

Eventually they located a place where several giant trees<\/p>\n

had fallen, forming a natural palisade, and settled in<\/p>\n

behind the wooden barricade nature had so thoughtfully<\/p>\n

provided.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The long run hadn’t troubled Jon-Tom, who was a<\/p>\n

good distance runner, nor Mudge, who was blessed with<\/p>\n

inexhaustible energy, but Roseroar was tired. They waited<\/p>\n

while she caught her breath.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There in the moonlight she pulled off her helmet, undid<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

the thick belt that held both swords, and put it aside. Then<\/p>\n

she leaned back against one fallen trunk. Her bright yellow<\/p>\n

eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Physically she was<\/p>\n

unharmed by the fighting, though her armor showed plenty<\/p>\n

of cuts and dents.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We owe you our lives,” he finally told her.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes, ah expect that’s so. Damned if ah know how<\/p>\n

ah’m going to collect on that debt. Yo told me yo didn’t<\/p>\n

mean to conjuh me up in the first place?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s right,” he confessed. “It was an accident. I<\/p>\n

was trying to put our jailer to sleep. When it didn’t work I<\/p>\n

got upset and spellsang the first thing that came to mind<\/p>\n

and\u2014poof\u2014there you were.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah was the first thing that came to yo mind?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, not exactly. Matter of fact, I’ve never seen<\/p>\n

anybody like you. This kind of thing happens to me a lot<\/p>\n

when I try to spellsing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She nodded, turned to look to where Mudge was already<\/p>\n

searching the bushes for something edible. “Is he telling<\/p>\n

the truth, squirt?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Me name is Mudge, lady o’ the long tooth,” said the<\/p>\n

voice in the bushes, “and I’ll make you a deal right now.<\/p>\n

You can like me o’ not, but you don’t call me names and<\/p>\n

I’ll respond likewise.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah favor politeness in all things, being a lady of<\/p>\n

refined tastes,” she replied evenly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge restrained the first reply that came to mind, said<\/p>\n

instead, “Aye, ‘e’s tellin’ you the truth. A powerful spellsinger<\/p>\n

‘e is. Maybe the most powerful ever, though we ain’t yet<\/p>\n

sure o’ that. ‘E certainly ain’t. See, ‘e ‘as this bad ‘abit o’<\/p>\n

tryin’ to do one thing and ‘e ends up doin’ something total<\/p>\n

unexpected.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.<\/p>\n

“It’s true. I have this ability but I don’t seem able to<\/p>\n

control it. And now it’s caused me to go and inconve-<\/p>\n

nience you.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

62<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s a fine, politic way of putting it, sub. Going to<\/p>\n

the Glittergeist, yo said?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“And across it. We have to get to Snarken.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah’ve heard of Snahken. It’s supposed to be an inter-<\/p>\n

esting place, rich in culture.” She thought a long moment,<\/p>\n

then sighed. “Since yo say y’all can’t send me home, ah<\/p>\n

guess ah maht as well tag along with y’all. Besides, ah<\/p>\n

kind of like the way you have with words, man.” Her eyes<\/p>\n

glittered and Jon-Tom felt suddenly uncomfortable, though<\/p>\n

he wasn’t sure why.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Oh, Vs a fine one with words ‘e is, luv,” Mudge said<\/p>\n

as he reappeared. He was carrying an armful of some<\/p>\n

lime-green berries. Jon-Tom took a few, bit into one, and<\/p>\n

found the taste sweet. More out of politeness than any<\/p>\n

expectation of acceptance, the otter offered some to the<\/p>\n

tigress.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Bleh!” she said as she pulled back. She smiled widely,<\/p>\n

displaying an impressive array of cutlery. “Sun, do ah<\/p>\n

look like the kind to enjoy weeds?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No you don’t, luv, but I thought I’d be polite, since<\/p>\n

you place such store by it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She nodded thankfully as she scanned the surrounding<\/p>\n

woods. “Come the morning ah’ll find mahself something<\/p>\n

to eat. This appeahs to be good game country. Theah<\/p>\n

should be ample meat about.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom was glad she wasn’t looking at him when she<\/p>\n

said that. “I’m sure we’ll run across something edible.”<\/p>\n

He turned to the otter. “What about our pursuit, Mudge?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The otter responded with his ingratiating, amused bark.<\/p>\n

“Why, them sorry twits will be all night just tryin’ t’ get<\/p>\n

their stories straight. From wot I saw on our way out, most<\/p>\n

of ’em were your typical city guard and likely ain’t in<\/p>\n

Zancresta’s personal service. It’d be that arse’ole Chenelska<\/p>\n

who’d be put in charge o’ organizin’ any kind o’ formal<\/p>\n

chase. By the time ‘e gets the word, gets ‘is conflictin’<\/p>\n

reports sorted out, and puts together anythin’ like a formal<\/p>\n

pursuit, we’ll be well out o’ it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

63<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Then you don’t think they’ll be able to track us<\/p>\n

down?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ve been seein’ to the coverin’ o’ our tracks ever since<\/p>\n

we left that cesspool o’ a town, mate. They won’t find a<\/p>\n

sign o’ us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What if they do come after us, though? We can’t<\/p>\n

conceal all of Roseroar’s petite footprints.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge assumed a crafty mien. “Aye, that they might,<\/p>\n

guv. They’ll likely comb a wide front to the south, knowin’<\/p>\n

that we’re to be headin’ for the ol’ Tailaroam. They can<\/p>\n

run up every tree in the Bellwoods without fmdin’ sign o’<\/p>\n

us, because we ain’t goin’ t’ go south. We’ll fool ’em<\/p>\n

inside out by goin’ west from ‘ere. We’re so far north o’<\/p>\n

the river we might as well do it anyhows.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom struggled to recall what he’d been taught of the<\/p>\n

local geography. “If you go far enough west of here, the<\/p>\n

forest disappears and you’re into the Muddletup Moors.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You got it, mate. No one would think t’ave a looksee<\/p>\n

for us there.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Isn’t that because no one ever does go in there?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s right. Wot better place o’ safety t’ flee to?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom looked doubtful as he sat back against a fallen<\/p>\n

trunk. “Mudge, I don’t know about your thinking.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’m willin’ enough to entertain alternative suggestions,<\/p>\n

m’lord warbler, but you’re ‘ardly in shape for some straight<\/p>\n

arguin’.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Now, that I won’t argue. We’ll discuss it in the<\/p>\n

morning.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“In the mornin’, then. Night to you, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The thunder woke Jon-Tom. He blinked sleepily and<\/p>\n

looked up into a gray sky full of massive clouds. He<\/p>\n

blinked a second time. White clouds were common<\/p>\n

enough in this world, just as they were in his own. But not<\/p>\n

with black stripes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He tried to move, discovered he could not. A huge furry<\/p>\n

arm lay half on and half off his chest while another curved<\/p>\n

behind his head to form a warm pillow. Unfortunately, it<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

64<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

M<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

65<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

was also cutting off the circulation to his throbbing left<\/p>\n

arm.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He tried to disengage himself. As he did so the thunder<\/p>\n

of Roseroar’s purring was broken by a coughing snarl. She<\/p>\n

stirred, but her arms did not budge.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Another shape moved nearby. Mudge was sitting up on<\/p>\n

the bed of leaves he’d fashioned for himself. He looked<\/p>\n

over toward Jon-Tom as he stretched.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, don’t just sit there, damn it. Give me a hand<\/p>\n

here!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Wot, and interrupt a charmin’ domestic tableau like<\/p>\n

that?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t try to be funny.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Funnier than that?” He pointed at the helpless spell-<\/p>\n

singer. “Couldn’t be if I tried, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Glaring at him, Jon-Tom tried again to disengage him-<\/p>\n

self, but the weight was too much for him. It was like<\/p>\n

trying to move a soft mountain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Come on, Mudge. Have a heart.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Who, me? You know me better than that, mate.” As<\/p>\n

he spoke Roseroar moved in her sleep, rolling partly across<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom’s midsection and chest. He gasped and kicked his<\/p>\n

legs in a frantic attempt to extricate himself. The tigress<\/p>\n

purred thunderously atop him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge took his time getting to his feet, ambled lazily<\/p>\n

over to eye the arrangement thoughtfully. “Our dainty lady<\/p>\n

friend sounds ‘appy enough. Best not to disturb ‘er. I don’t<\/p>\n

see wot you’re fussin’ about. It’s not like she’s got a ‘and<\/p>\n

over your mouth. From where I stands it looks almost<\/p>\n

invitin’, though I can’t say as ‘ow I’d trade places with<\/p>\n

you. I’d be lost under ‘er.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom put a hand on the tigress’s face and pushed.<\/p>\n

She stirred, moved slightly, and nearly bit his fingers off.<\/p>\n

He withdrew his hand quickly. She’d moved enough for<\/p>\n

him to breathe again, anyway.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

‘ ‘Any signs of pursuit?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

” ‘Aven’t smelled or ‘card a thing, mate. I think they’re<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

still too disorganized. If they are tookin’ fq_r us, you can be<\/p>\n

sure ’tis to the south o’ Malderpot and not ‘ere. Still, the<\/p>\n

sooner we’re on our way, the better.” He turned, began<\/p>\n

gathering up his effects.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Come on now, lad. No time to waste.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s real funny, Mudge. How am I supposed to get<\/p>\n

her off me?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Wake ‘er up. Belt ‘er one, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No thanks. I like my head where it is. On my shoul-<\/p>\n

ders. I don’t know how’d she react to something like that<\/p>\n

in her sleep.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge’s eyes twinkled. “Be more interestin’ to see wot<\/p>\n

she might do while she’s awake.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

There was no need to consider extreme action, however.<\/p>\n

All the talking had done its job. Roseroar snorted once and<\/p>\n

opened those bottomless yellow eyes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Well, good morning, man.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Good morning yourself. Roseroar, I value your friend-<\/p>\n

ship, but you’re breaking my arm.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Her expression narrowed. “Suh, are you insinuatin’ that<\/p>\n

ah am too heavy?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No, no, nothing like that.” Somewhere off in the<\/p>\n

bushes Mudge was attending to necessary bodily functions<\/p>\n

while trying to stifle his laughter. “Actually, I think you’re<\/p>\n

rather svelte.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Svelte.” Roseroar considered the word. “That’s nice.<\/p>\n

Ah like that. Are you saying I have a nice figure?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I never saw a tiger I didn’t think was attractive,” he<\/p>\n

confessed, honestly enough.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

She looked mildly disappointed as she rolled off him.<\/p>\n

“What the fuzz-ball said is true. Yo ah at least half<\/p>\n

solicitah.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom rolled over and tried shaking his left arm,<\/p>\n

trying to restore the circulation at the same time as he was<\/p>\n

dreading its return. Pins and needles flooded his nerves<\/p>\n

and he gritted his teeth at the sensation.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

66<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

AlaA Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I did study some law in my own world. It might be my<\/p>\n

profession someday.”<\/p>\n

– “Spellsinging’s better,” she rumbled. “Svelte?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yeah.” He sat up and began pulling on his boots.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nice. Ah think ah like yo, man.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I like you, too, Roseroar.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Svelte.” She considered the new word thoughtfully.<\/p>\n

“Want to know mah word fo yo?” She was putting on her<\/p>\n

armor, checking to make sure each catch and strap was<\/p>\n

fastened securely. She grinned at him, showing six-inch<\/p>\n

fangs. “Cute. Yo ah kind o’ cute.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Gee.” Jon-Tom kept his voice carefully neutral as he<\/p>\n

replied. “That’s nice.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge emerged from the woods, buttoning his shorts.<\/p>\n

“Gee, I always thought you were cute, too, mate.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“How’d you like your whiskers shoved up your ass?”<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom asked him softly.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Calm down, mate.” Somehow Mudge stifled his laugh-<\/p>\n

ter. “Best we get goin’ westward. We’ve given ’em the<\/p>\n

slip for the nonce, but sooner o’ later the absence o’ tracks<\/p>\n

o’ mention of us south o’ ‘ere will hit ‘im as distinctly<\/p>\n

peculiar and they’ll start ‘untin’ for us elsewhere.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom slung the duar over his shoulder and hefted his<\/p>\n

staff. “Lead on.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Mudge bowed, his voice rich with mock servility. “As<\/p>\n

thy exalted cuteness decrees.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

* Jon-Tom tried to bash him with the staff, but the otter<\/p>\n

was much too fast for him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

v<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It took several days for them to reach the outskirts of the<\/p>\n

Moors, a vast and, as far as anyone knew, uninhabited<\/p>\n

land which formed the western border of the Bellwoods<\/p>\n

and reached south all the way to the northern coast of the<\/p>\n

GHttergeist Sea. After a day’s march into the Moors’<\/p>\n

depths, Mudge felt safe enough to angle southward for the<\/p>\n

first time since fleeing the city.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Transportation across the ocean was going to present a<\/p>\n

problem. No ports existed where the ocean met the south-<\/p>\n

ern edge of the Moors, and Jon-Tom agreed with the otter<\/p>\n

that it would be a bad idea to follow the shoreline back<\/p>\n

eastward toward the mouth of the Tailaroam. Chenelska<\/p>\n

would be sure to be looking for them in ports like Yarrowl.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

As for the Moors themselves, they looked bleak but<\/p>\n

hardly threatening. Jon-Tom wondered how the place had<\/p>\n

acquired its widespread onerous reputation. Mudge could<\/p>\n

shed little light on the mystery, explaining only that rumor<\/p>\n

insisted anyone who went into the place never came out<\/p>\n

again, a pleasant thought to mull over as they hiked ever<\/p>\n

deeper into the foggy terrain.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

It was a sorry land, mostly gray stone occasionally<\/p>\n

67<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

68<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

stained red by iron. There were no trees, few bushes, a<\/p>\n

little grass. The sky was a perpetual puffy, moist gray.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Fog and mist made them miserable, except for Mudge.<\/p>\n

Nothing appeared to challenge their progress. A few mind-<\/p>\n

less hoots and mournful howls were the only indications of<\/p>\n

mobile inhabitants, and nothing ever came close to their<\/p>\n

camps.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They marched onward into the heart of the Muddletup,<\/p>\n

where none penetrated. As they moved ever deeper into<\/p>\n

the Moors the landscape began to change, and not for the<\/p>\n

better. The last stunted trees disappeared. Here, in a place<\/p>\n

of eternal dampness and cloud cover, the fungi had taken<\/p>\n

over.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Enormous mushrooms and toadstools dripped with mois-<\/p>\n

ture as Jon-Tom and his companions walked beneath<\/p>\n

spore-filled canopies. Some of the gnarled, ugly growths<\/p>\n

had trunks as thick as junipers, while others thrust deli-<\/p>\n

cate, semi-transparent stems toward the sodden sky. There<\/p>\n

were no bright, cheerful colors to mitigate the depressing<\/p>\n

scene, which was mostly brown and gray. Even the occa-<\/p>\n

sional maroon or unwholesomely yellow specimen was a<\/p>\n

relief from the monotonous parade of dullness.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Some of the flora was spotted, some striped. One<\/p>\n

displayed a checkerboard pattern that reminded Jon-Tom of<\/p>\n

a non-Euclidian chessboard. Liverworts grew waist-high,<\/p>\n

while lichens and mosses formed a thick, cushiony carpet<\/p>\n

into which their boots sank up to the ankles. Clean granite<\/p>\n

was disfigured by crawling fungoid corruption growing on<\/p>\n

its surface. And over this vast, wild eruption of thallophytic<\/p>\n

life there hung a pervasive sense of desolation, of waste<\/p>\n

and fossilized hope.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The first couple of days had seen no slowing of their<\/p>\n

progress. Now their pace began to degenerate. They slept<\/p>\n

longer and spent less time over meals. It didn’t matter<\/p>\n

what food they took from their packs or scavenged from<\/p>\n

the land: everything seemed to have lost its flavor. What-<\/p>\n

ever they consumed turned flat and tasteless in their<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

69<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

mouths and sat heavy in their bellies. Even the water<\/p>\n

which fell fresh from the clouds had acquired a metallic,<\/p>\n

unsatisfying aftertaste.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

They’d been in the Moors for almost a week when<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom tripped over the skeleton. Like everything else<\/p>\n

lately its discovery provoked little more than a tired mur-<\/p>\n

mur of indifference from his companions.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“So wot?” muttered Mudge. “Don’t mean a damn<\/p>\n

thing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Ah’m sitting down,” said Roseroar. “Ah’m tired.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

So was Jon-Tom, but the sight of the stark white bone<\/p>\n

peeping out from beneath the encrusting rusts and mildews<\/p>\n

roused a dormant concern in his mind.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“This is all wrong,” he told them. “There’s something<\/p>\n

very wrong going on here.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“No poison, if that’s wot you’re thinkin’, mate.” Mudge<\/p>\n

indicated the growths surrounding them. “I’ve been care-<\/p>\n

ful. Everythin’ local we’ve swallowed ‘as been edible,<\/p>\n

even if it’s tasted lousy.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Lucky yo,” said Roseroar. “No game at all fo me.<\/p>\n

Ah find mahself reduced to eating not just weeds, but this<\/p>\n

crap. Ah declah ah’ve nevah been so bored with eating in<\/p>\n

all man life.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Boring, tired, tasteless.. .don’t you see what’s hap-<\/p>\n

pening?” Jon-Tom told them.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, mate.” The<\/p>\n

otter was lying on a mound of soft moss. “Settle yourself<\/p>\n

down. ‘Ave a sip o’ somethinV<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yes.” Roseroar slipped off her swordbelt. “Let’s just<\/p>\n

sit heah and rest awhile. There’s no need to rush. We<\/p>\n

haven’t seen a sign of pursuit since we left that town, and<\/p>\n

ah don’t think we’re likely to encounter any now.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“She’s right, mate. Pull up a soft spot and ‘ave a sit.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Both of you listen to me.” Jon-Tom tried to put some<\/p>\n

force into his voice, was frightened to hear it emerge from<\/p>\n

his lips flat and curiously empty of emotion. He felt sad<\/p>\n

and utterly useless. Something had begun to afflict him<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

70<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Foster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

from the day they’d first set foot in the Moors. It was<\/p>\n

something more than just boredom with their surround-<\/p>\n

ings, something far more penetrating and dangerous. It<\/p>\n

was a grayness of the heart, and it was digging its<\/p>\n

insidious way deeper and deeper into their thoughts, kill-<\/p>\n

ing off determination and assurance as it went. Eventually,<\/p>\n

it would ruin their bodies as well. The skeleton was proof<\/p>\n

enough of that. Whatever was into them was patient and<\/p>\n

clever, much too calculating, it occurred to Jon-Tpm, to be<\/p>\n

an accident of the environment.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He tried to find the enthusiasm to fight back as he<\/p>\n

turned to scream at the landscape. “Who are you? Why<\/p>\n

are you doing this to us? What is it you wan??”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He felt like a fool. Worse, he knew his companions<\/p>\n

might think he was becoming unhinged. But they said<\/p>\n

nothing. He would’ve welcomed some outcry of skepti-<\/p>\n

cism. Instead, the sense of hopelessness settled ever deeper<\/p>\n

around them.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Nothing moved within the Moors. Of one thing he was<\/p>\n

fairly confident: this wasn’t wizardry at work. It was too<\/p>\n

slow. He had to do something, but he didn’t know what.<\/p>\n

All he could think of was how ironic it would be if, after<\/p>\n

surviving Malderpot, they were to perish here from a<\/p>\n

terminal case of the blahs.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

So he was startled when a dull voice asked, “Don’t you<\/p>\n

understand it all by now?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Who said that?” He whirled, trying to spot the speak-<\/p>\n

er. Nothing moved.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I did.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The voice came from an eight-foot-tall mushroom off to<\/p>\n

his left. The cap of this blotchy ochre growth dipped<\/p>\n

slightly toward him.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Not that I couldn’t have,” said another growth.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nor I,” agreed a third’.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Mushrooms,” Jon-Tom said unsteadily, “don’t talk.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What?” said the first growth. “Sure, we’re not loqua-<\/p>\n

cious, but that’s a natural function of our existence. There<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

71<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

isn’t much to talk about, is there? I mean, it’s not just a<\/p>\n

dull life, man, it’s boring. B-o-r-i-n-g.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“That’s about the extent of it,” agreed the giant toad-<\/p>\n

stool against which Roseroar rested. She moved away from<\/p>\n

it hastily, showing more energy than she had in the<\/p>\n

previous several days, and put a hand to the haft of each<\/p>\n

sword.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I mean, give it some thought.” The first mushroom<\/p>\n

again, which was taking on something of the air of a<\/p>\n

fungoid spokesman. Jon-Tom saw no lips or mouth. The<\/p>\n

words, the thoughts, came fully formed into his mind<\/p>\n

through a kind of clammy telepathy. “What would we talk<\/p>\n

about?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Nothing worth wasting the time discussing,” agreed<\/p>\n

another mushroom with a long, narrow cap in the manner<\/p>\n

of a morrel. “I mean, you spend your whole existence<\/p>\n

sitting in the same spot, never seeing anything new, never<\/p>\n

moving around. So what’s your biggest thrill? Getting to<\/p>\n

make spores?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Yeah, big deal,” commented the toadstool. “So we<\/p>\n

don’t talk. You never hear us talk, you think fungoids<\/p>\n

don’t talk. Ambulatories are such know-it-alls.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It doesn’t matter,” said the second mushroom. “Noth-<\/p>\n

ing matters. We’re wasting our efforts.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Wait.” Jon-Tom approached the major mushroom,<\/p>\n

feeling a little silly as he did so. “You’re doing something<\/p>\n

to us. You have been ever since we entered the deep<\/p>\n

moors.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What makes you think we’re doing anything to you?”<\/p>\n

said the spokesthing. “Why should we make the effort to<\/p>\n

do anything to anyone?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“We’ve changed since we entered this land. We feel<\/p>\n

different.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Different how, man?” asked the toadstool.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Depressed. Tired, worn-out^ useless, hopeless. Our<\/p>\n

outlook on life has been altered.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“What makes you think we’re responsible?” said the<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

72<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

second mushroom. “That’s just how life is. It’s the normal<\/p>\n

state of existence. You can’t blame us for that.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It’s not the normal state of existence.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It is in the Moors,” argued the first mushroom.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom held his ground. “There’s some kind of telepa-<\/p>\n

thy at work here. We’ve been absorbing your feelings of<\/p>\n

hopelessness, your idea that nothing’s worth much of<\/p>\n

anything. It’s been eating at us.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Look around you, man. What do you see?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom turned a slow circle. Instead of the half-hoped-<\/p>\n

for revelation, his gaze swept over more of what they’d<\/p>\n

seen the past dreary days\u2014rocks, mushrooms, lichens and<\/p>\n

mosses, mist and cloud cover.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Now, I ask you,” sighed the first mushroom, “is that<\/p>\n

depressing or what? I mean, it is de-press-ing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom could feel his resolve slipping dangerously.<\/p>\n

Mudge and Roseroar were half-asleep already. He had the<\/p>\n

distinct feeling that if he joined them, none of them would<\/p>\n

ever wake up again. The sight of white bone nearby<\/p>\n

revitalized him. How long had it taken the owner of that<\/p>\n

skeleton to become permanently depressed?<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I guess you might consider your existence here<\/p>\n

depressing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Might consider?” moaned the toadstool. “It is de-<\/p>\n

pressing. No maybes about it. Like, I’m afiingus, man.<\/p>\n

That’s depressing all by itself.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ve eaten some mushrooms that were downright excit-<\/p>\n

ing,” Jon-Tom countered.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“A cannibal, too,” said the tall toadstool tiredly. “How<\/p>\n

depressing.” It let out a vast telepathic sigh, a wave of<\/p>\n

anxiety and sadness that rolled over Jon-Tom like a wave.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He staggered, shook off the cobwebs that threatened to<\/p>\n

bind his mind. “Stop that.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Stop what? Why sweat it? Just relax, man. You’re full<\/p>\n

of hurry, and desire, and all kinds of useless mental<\/p>\n

baggage. Why knock yourself out worrying about things<\/p>\n

that don’t matter? Nothing matters. Lie down here, relax,<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

73<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

take it easy. Let your foolish concerns fly bye-bye. Open<\/p>\n

yourself to the true blandness of reality and see how much<\/p>\n

better you’ll feel for it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom started to sit down, wrestled himself back to an<\/p>\n

upright stance. He pointed toward the skeleton.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Like that one?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He was only reacting sensibly,” said the toadstool.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He’s dead.” Jon-Tom’s voice turned accusing. “You<\/p>\n

killed him. At least, this place killed him.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Life killed him. Slain by dullness. Murdered by mo-<\/p>\n

notony. He did what comes naturally to all life. He<\/p>\n

decayed.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Decayed? You flourish amidst decay, don’t’you? You<\/p>\n

thrive on it.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“He calls this thriving,” mumbled another toadstool.<\/p>\n

“He went the way of all flesh, that’s all. Sure, we broke<\/p>\n

down his organic components. Sometimes I wonder why<\/p>\n

we bother. It’s all such a waste. We live for death. Talk<\/p>\n

about dull, man. It’s, like, numbsville.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Jon-Tom turned and walked over to shake Roseroar,<\/p>\n

shoving hard against the enormous shoulder. “Wake up,<\/p>\n

Roseroar. Come on, wake up, damn it!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Why bother?” she murmured sleepily, eyeing him<\/p>\n

through half-closed eyes. “Let me sleep. No, don’t !et me<\/p>\n

sleep.” The feeble plea hit him like a cry for help.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Wake up!” He continued to<\/p>\n

shake her until she sat up and rubbed at her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

He moved over to where Mudge lay sprawled on his<\/p>\n

side, kicked the otter ungently. “Move it, water rat! This<\/p>\n

isn’t like you- Think about where we’re going. Think of<\/p>\n

the ocean, of clear salt air.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’d rather not, mate,” said the otter tiredly. “No point<\/p>\n

to it, really.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“True true, true,” intoned the fungoid chorus of doom.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“I’ll get up in a minute, guv’nor. There’s no rush, and<\/p>\n

we’re in no ‘urry. Let me be.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Like hell, I will. Think of the food we’ve enjoyed.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

74<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Alan Dean Poster<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Think of the good times ahead, of the money to be made.<\/p>\n

Think,” he said with sudden alacrity, “of die three days<\/p>\n

you spent at the Elegant Bitch.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The otter opened his eyes wide, smiling weakly. “Aye,<\/p>\n

now that’s a memory t’ ‘old tight to.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Useless, useless, useless,” boomed the a cappella<\/p>\n

ascomycetes.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

” Tis kind o’ pointless, mate,” said the otter. For an<\/p>\n

instant Jon-Tom despaired, fearing he’d lost his friend for<\/p>\n

good. Then Mudge sprang to his feet and glared at the<\/p>\n

surrounding growth. “But ’tis also one ‘ell of a lot o’<\/p>\n

fun!”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Help Roseroar,” Jon-Tom ordered him, a great relief<\/p>\n

surging through him. He turned his attention back to their<\/p>\n

subtle, even indifferent, assailants.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“Look, I can’t help what you are and I can’t help it if<\/p>\n

you find your existences so depressing.”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

“It’s not how we find them,” said the first mushroom.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

DOWNLOAD EPUB<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Book Preview “I’m dying,” Clothahump wheezed. The wizard glanced to his left. ‘Tm dying and you stand there gawking like a virginal adolescent who’s just discovered that his blind date is a noted courtesan. With your kind of help I’ll never live to see my three-hundredth birthday.” \u00a0 “With your kind of attitude it’s a … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4087,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[245],"class_list":["post-4088","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-alan-dean-foster"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4088","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4088"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4088\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4087"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4088"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4088"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4088"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}