backbone!"
"G-g-g-guards," the porcupine stammered. It came out
as a whisper. Aware his cry wasn't reaching very far, he
raised his voice. "Guards!"
"Quit stabling and talk to me." Feminine, Jon-Tom
decided. Thunderous, but undeniably feminine. The conju-
ration was a she. She turned to eye Mudge. "Yo theah.
Why won't he talk to me?"
"You talkin' to me, m'dear?" Mudge inquired reluctantly.
She reached down and lifted him easily off the floor with
one paw, setting her second sword aside but within easy
reach. Fully extended, her claws were nearly as long as
Mudge's fingers.
"Now, who else would ah be talking to, you little
sponge?"
"Blimey, m'dear, I ain't considered the possibility."
"Guards!" Suddenly it occurred to the porcupine that
since he wasn't having much luck obtaining help with his
voice, it might be efficacious to employ his feet. He raced
up the stairs with unexpected speed. "Guards, help me!"
"Hey, yo!" The tigress dropped Mudge, who promptly
retreated to the back of the cell. "Come back heah! Yo
heah me?"
"He thinks you're a threat to him."
"What's that?" For the first time she focused her
attention on Jon-Tom.
"I said, he thinks you're a threat to him. Because
you're in here with us."
"Y'all are awfully big fo a human."
"And you're awfully big period." He continued strug-
gling with the cuffs that bound him to the bars of the cell.
"What is this place?" She turned slowly to make a
more careful inspection of the prison. She did not appear
frightened. Only irritated.
"We're in a dungeon in a town called Malderpot."
"Nevah heard of it," said the feline amazon. "A dun-
geon, you say. I can see that fo mahself, honey." She eyed
his restraints. "Why ah yo tied up like that?"
"I'm a spellsinger," he explained. "I've been doing a
little singing and I think I accidently brought you here."
"So that's it!" Jon-Tom did his best not to cower away
from those burning yellow eyes. She stepped back and
hefted both her swords. "Well then, y'all can just send me
back."
He squirmed against the bars. "I, uh, I'm afraid I can't
do that. 1 don't know how I brought you here. I can try
later, maybe. But not without my duar." He pointed into
the room. "And I can't play it with my hands tied like
this."
"Well, that much is obvious. Ah've got eyes, yo
know."
"Very pretty eyes, too."
"Huh," she said, a little more softly. "Spellsingah, yo
say? Yo sound moah like a solicitah to me." Jon-Tom
didn't inform her about his legal training, not being sure of
her opinion of solicitors.
One sword suddenly cut forward and down. Mudge let
out a half moan, half squeak, and Jon-Tom closed his
eyes. But the sword passed between the bars to delicately
cut the chain linking his wrist cuffs. A couple of quick
twists of a clawed paw and his hands were free. He spoke,
as he rubbed the circulation back into his wrists.
"I still need the duar." Loud noises reached them from
somewhere on the level above, and he hurried his introduc-
tions. '-'That's Mudge, I'm Jon-Tom Meriweather." He
recalled the song he'd sung prior to "Eye of the Tiger."
"By any chance would your name be Sage, Rosemary, or
Thyme?" Somehow Scarborough didn't seem a possibility.
"Close enuf. Ah am called Rcseroar."
Jon-Tom nodded to himself. Once again his songs and
his desires had gotten themselves thoroughly mixed. He
took a deep breath, repeated the gist of a by now familiar
story.
56
Alan Dean Foster
DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
57
"We're trying to help a wizard who is dying. Because
of that a jealous wizard is trying to prevent us from doing
so. He had us captured, brought here, and locked up."
"That's no business of mine," said the tigress. "Yo
really think man eyes are pretty?"
"Extremely so." Why didn't Mudge chip in with a
word or two? he wondered. He was better at this sort of
thing. But the otter hugged his comer of the cell and kept
his mouth shut. Jon-Tom plunged on. "Like topaz."
"Yo have a gift of words as well as music, don't yo?
Well, let me tell yo, ah am not subject to the simple
flattery of the male of any species!''
"Of course you're not. I didn't mean for you to think I
was intentionally flattering you, or anything like that. I just
made a simple statement of fact."
"Did y'all, now? Where do yo have to go to help this
dying friend of yours?"
"Across the Glittergeist Sea."
"So ah'm that fah west, am ah?" She shook her head in
wonder. "It's a peculiah world we live in."
"You don't know the half of it," Jon-Tom muttered.
"Ah've nevah been to an ocean, much less the
Glittergeist." She looked out through the bars. "So that's
yo instrument fo making magic?"
"It is. Also, the keys are on the table nearby. If we
could get ahold of the rope attached to the duar, we could
maybe drag the keys over here." He eyed the stairwell.
"But I don't think we've got much time."
"Well, sugah, if it's the keys you want. . ." Roseroar
put one paw on a bar to the left, the other on the bar
immediately opposite, inhaled mightily, and pushed. Mus-
cles rippled beneath the armor.
There was a groan and the metal bent like spaghetti. The
tigress stepped through the resultant gap, walked over to
the table, and picked up the keyring.
"Yo still want these?"
Mudge was already out in the corridor. Jon-Tom was
eht on his heels. He snatched the duar and slung it over
his shoulder.
"I think we'll be able to manage without them. Roseroar,
you're quite a lady."
"Aye, with a delicate and ladylike touch," Mudge
"Ah think ah like you two," she said thoughtfully,
staring at Mudge, "though ah can't decide if y'all are
trying to be funny or flattering." She gestured with the two
heavy swords. "Ah hope fo yo sake y'all are trying to be
funny."
Jon-Tom hastened to reassure her. "You've got to take
whatever Mudge says with a grain of salt. Comments like
that are part of his nature. Sort of like a disease." He
turned to bestow a warning look on the otter.
"Ah can see that," said the tigress. "Well, ah don't
know how ah'm going to get home, but ah sure don't
fancy this hole. Let's go somewhere quiet and talk."
"Suits me," said Jon-Tom agreeably.
At that moment the porcupine appeared at the top of the
stairs, preceded by a pair of big, heavily armed wolves.
They saw Roseroar about the time she saw them. She
emitted a battle cry, a mixture of roar and curse, that shook
moss from the ceiling. Waving both swords like propel-
11'' lers, she charged the stairway, which cleared with aston
ishing
speed.
Mudge executed a little bow and gestured with his right
hand. "After you, master o' magic and spellsinger
extraordinaire."
Jon-Tom made a face at him, hurried to follow Roseroar
upward. From ahead sounded shouts, screams, frantic
cries, and yelps. Above all rose the tigress's earthshaking
growls.
"Don't be so quick to compliment me," Jon-Tom told
the otter. "She's not what I was trying to conjure up."
"I know that, guv'nor," said Mudge, striding along
happily in his companion's wake. "It never is, wot? But
58
Alan Dean Poster
even though you never get wot you're after with your
spellsingin', wotever you gets always seems to work out."
"Tell me that again when she finds out there's no way I
can send her home-"
"Now, mate," Mudge told him as they started up to the
next level, "wot's the use o' creatin' worry where there
ain't none? Besides," he went on, his grin widening, "if
she turns quarrelsome, you can tell 'er 'ow beautiful 'er
eyes are."
"Oh, shut up."
They emerged into the main guardroom, which looked
as if a modest typhoon had thundered through it. Every
table was overturned and broken furniture littered the floor.
Broken spears and pikes sopped up spilled liquid from
shattered jugs. A couple of the guards remained, decoratively
draped over the broken furniture. None offered a protest as
Jon-Tom and Mudge began to search the still intact chests
and drawers.
One .yielded Mudge's longbow and arrows, another
Jon-Tom's ramwood fighting staff. There was no sign of
the full purse Clothahump had given him, nor did he
expect to find it. Mudge was more disappointed than his
companion at the absence of the gold.
"Bloody bedamned stinkin' thieves," he mumbled, ig-
noring the fact that he'd lifted a purse or two in his own
time.
"Be quiet." Jon-Tom led him up the next flight of
stairs. "From the way you're carrying on, you'd think this
was the first time you'd ever been penniless."
"I'm not sayin' that, mate," replied Mudge, putting a
leash on his lamentations, "but when I gets friendly with a
bit o' gold or silver and it ups and disappears on me, I feel
as if I've lost a good friend. The loss strikes me to the
quick."
"One of these days it'd be nice to see you get so
emotional over something besides money."
"You do me an injustice, mate." Mudge carried his bow
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
59
in front of him, a hunting arrow notched and ready to fire.
If the fates were kind they'd give him one clear shot at
Chenelska or his bullyboys. Nothing would please him
more than to be able to give the coati the shaft.
"You want emotional?" he continued as they climbed.
"You should've seen me at Madam Lorsha's."
"I'm talking about honest emotion, about caring. Not
lust."
"Cor, you mean there's a difference?"
The third landing was the last. They emerged into a
small open square lit by torches and oil lamps. To their left
was the city wall, to the right the outermost buildings of
the town. The light danced wildly as sources of illumina-
tion were hastily moved to different positions. Shouts and
yells filled the air.
Jon-Tom ducked as a wolf whizzed over his head. It
pinwheeled once before striking the wall with a sickening
thud.
Roseroar's efforts threw everything into confusion. Horns
and shouts were beginning to rouse a whole section of the
community. Lights were starting to appear in nearby windows
as residents were awakened by the commotion.
Mudge bounced gleefully up and down, pointing at the
evidence of the chaos the tigress was causing. "Wot a
show! The poor buggers must think the 'ole bloomin' city
is under attack."
"Maybe they're right." Jon-Tom started forward.
"Hey, you two!" Roseroar called to them as she idly
batted aside a large rat armed with a short sword who had
tried to sneak under her guard. The rodent went skidding
across the paving stones, shedding bits and pieces of armor
and flesh as he went. "Ovah heah! This way!"
They ran toward her. Jon-Tom placed his staff in front of
him while Mudge ran backward to guard their rear, his
short legs a blur. As they ran they dodged spears and
arrows. Mudge responded to each attack individually, and
6O
Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
61
they were rewarded as one figure after another fell from
the wall above.
Snarling, a hyena draped in heavy chain mail headed
right for Ion-Tom, swinging a viciously studded mace over
his head. Jon-Tom blocked it with his staff, and the
ramwood held as the mace's chain wrapped around it. He
pulled and twisted in one motion, bringing the knobbed
end of the staff down on his assailant's helmet. The hyena
dropped like a stone. They ran on, Jon-Tom unwrapping
the chain from his staff.
Then they were up against the thick wooden door in the
city wall. Crossbow bolts thudded into the wood or splintered
against the rock as the wall's garrison struggled to regroup.
Mudge inspected it rapidly. "Locked, damn it, from the
other side!"
"Pahdon me," said Roseroar. While they covered her
she put her back against the door, dug her feet into the
pavement, and shoved. The door broke with a snap, the
wood holding but not the iron hinges. It fell with a crash.
The trio ran out, pursued by yells and weapons. No one
chose to pursue beyond the city wall in person. The tigress
had demonstrated what she could do at close range, and
Malderpot's soldiery had taken the lesson to heart. They
held back, waiting for someone higher up to give the
necessary orders, and praying those directions would take
their time arriving.
Before they did, the fugitives were deep within the
concealment offered by the Bellwoods and the night.
Eventually they located a place where several giant trees
had fallen, forming a natural palisade, and settled in
behind the wooden barricade nature had so thoughtfully
provided.
The long run hadn't troubled Jon-Tom, who was a
good distance runner, nor Mudge, who was blessed with
inexhaustible energy, but Roseroar was tired. They waited
while she caught her breath.
There in the moonlight she pulled off her helmet, undid
the thick belt that held both swords, and put it aside. Then
she leaned back against one fallen trunk. Her bright yellow
eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Physically she was
unharmed by the fighting, though her armor showed plenty
of cuts and dents.
"We owe you our lives," he finally told her.
"Yes, ah expect that's so. Damned if ah know how
ah'm going to col
lect on that debt. Yo told me yo didn't
mean to conjuh me up in the first place?"
"That's right," he confessed. "It was an accident. I
was trying to put our jailer to sleep. When it didn't work I
got upset and spellsang the first thing that came to mind
and—poof—there you were."
"Ah was the first thing that came to yo mind?"
"Well, not exactly. Matter of fact, I've never seen
anybody like you. This kind of thing happens to me a lot
when I try to spellsing."
She nodded, turned to look to where Mudge was already
searching the bushes for something edible. "Is he telling
the truth, squirt?"
"Me name is Mudge, lady o' the long tooth," said the
voice in the bushes, "and I'll make you a deal right now.
You can like me o' not, but you don't call me names and
I'll respond likewise."
"Ah favor politeness in all things, being a lady of
refined tastes," she replied evenly.
Mudge restrained the first reply that came to mind, said
instead, "Aye, 'e's tellin' you the truth. A powerful spellsinger
'e is. Maybe the most powerful ever, though we ain't yet
sure o' that. 'E certainly ain't. See, 'e 'as this bad 'abit o'
tryin' to do one thing and 'e ends up doin' something total
unexpected."
Jon-Tom spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"It's true. I have this ability but I don't seem able to
control it. And now it's caused me to go and inconve-
nience you."
62
Alan Dean Foster
"That's a fine, politic way of putting it, sub. Going to
the Glittergeist, yo said?"
"And across it. We have to get to Snarken."
"Ah've heard of Snahken. It's supposed to be an inter-
esting place, rich in culture." She thought a long moment,
then sighed. "Since yo say y'all can't send me home, ah
guess ah maht as well tag along with y'all. Besides, ah
kind of like the way you have with words, man." Her eyes
glittered and Jon-Tom felt suddenly uncomfortable, though
he wasn't sure why.
"Oh, Vs a fine one with words 'e is, luv," Mudge said
as he reappeared. He was carrying an armful of some
lime-green berries. Jon-Tom took a few, bit into one, and
found the taste sweet. More out of politeness than any
expectation of acceptance, the otter offered some to the
tigress.
"Bleh!" she said as she pulled back. She smiled widely,
displaying an impressive array of cutlery. "Sun, do ah
look like the kind to enjoy weeds?"
"No you don't, luv, but I thought I'd be polite, since
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