the Cloud Dance." She looked wistful. "I may even
participate myself."
"Dancing in the air isn't as difficult as dancing on the
ground," said Folly.
Grelgen grinned at her. "That depends on what you're
doing in the air, infant." With great dignity she pivoted
and led the four Elders back to the village.
They were free, Jon-Tom knew, and so again were the
enchanted folk.
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
203
XII
The map led them out of the narrow defile that was the
enchanted canyon. Music and rhythmic grunts followed
them as they left behind a village full of fairies aerobicizing
like mad. Grelgen had a long way to go before she looked
like Jane Fonda but she was determined to out perform her
subjects, and Jon-Tom didn't doubt she had the willpower
to do so.
Several days' march through game-filled country brought
them over the highest mountain pass and down onto the
western slopes. Despite Grelgen's insistence that the jour-
ney the rest of the way to Cranculam would not be easy,
they were beginning to relax. Since leaving behind the
enchanted village they had encountered no dangerous ani-
mals or sapients, and food was plentiful.
Ahead lay the desert. Jon-Tom felt certain they could
cross it in a couple of days. AH was well.
No more bad dreams bothered him, and he awoke
refreshed and at ease. Fallen leaves had made a comfort-
able, springy bed. They were now back into deciduous
forest, having left most of the evergreen woods behind.
He pushed his cape aside. A few wisps of smoke still
202
rose from the remains of last night's fire. Roseroar snored
softly on the far side of the embers while Mudge dozed
nearby. That in itself was unusual. Normally the otter
woke first.
Jon-Tom scanned the rest of the camp and sat up fast.
"Jalwar? Folly!"
The woods did not answer, nor did anyone else.
He climbed to his feet, called again. His shouts roused
Mudge and Roseroar.
"Wot's amiss, mate?"
Jon-Tom gestured at the campsite. "See for yourself."
Mudge inspected the places where the missing pair had
slept. "They aren't off 'untin' for breakfast berries. All
their gear's gone."
"Could they have been carried off?" Jon-Tom muttered.
"Why would anybody bother to sneak in softly and steal
that pair away while leavin' us snug and in dreamland?"
Roseroar said. "Makes no sense."
"You're right, it doesn't. So they left on their own, and
with a stealthiness that implies premeditation."
"What?" she growled in confusion.
"Sorry. My legal training talking. It means they planned
to sneak out. Don't ask me why."
"Which way would they go?"
"Maybe there's a town nearby. I'll check the map." He
reached into his pocket, grasped air. A frantic, brief search
proved that the map was well and truly gone.
"Mudge, did you... ?"
The otter shook his head, his whiskers bristling in anger.
"You never gave it to me, guv'nor. I saw you put it up
yourself." He sighed, sat down on a rock, and adjusted his
cap, leaning the feather down at its usual rakish angle.
"Can't say as 'ow I'm surprised. That Corroboc might
'ave been a class-one bastard, but 'e knew wot 'e were
about when *e named that girl."
"ArTve been suspicious of her motives from the begin-
204
Alan Dean Foster
ning," Roseroar added. "We should have sold the little
bitch in Snarken, when we had the chance."
Jon-Tom found himself staring northwestward, through
the thinning forest toward the distant desert. "It doesn't
make sense. And what about Jalwar? He's gone, too, and
that makes even less sense. How can he get anywhere
without our help and protection?"
Mudge came and stood next to his friend, put a comforting
paw on his shoulder. "Ah, lad. 'Ave you learned so little
o' life since you've been in this world? Who knows wot
old Jalwar promised the girl? 'E's a trader, a merchant.
Obviously 'e made 'er a better offer than anything we 'ave.
Maybe 'e were bein' marooned on that beach by 'onest
folk 'e'd cheated. This ain't no world for takin' folks on
faith, me friend. For all we know Jalwar's a rich old
bugger in 'is 'ome town."
"If he wanted Folly to help him, why would they take
the map? They wouldn't need it to retrace the trail back to
Snarken."
"Then it's pretty clear they ain't 'eadin' for Snarken,
mate." He turned and stared down the barely visible path.
"And we ought to be able to prove it."
Sure enough, in the dew-moistened earth beyond the
campsite the two sets of footprints stood out clearly, the
small, almost dainty marks of Jalwar sharp beside Folly's
sandalprints. They led downslope toward the desert.
" Tis plain wot they're about, mate. They're 'eading
for Crancularn. That's why they stole the map."
"But why? Why not go theah with the rest of us?"
Roseroar was shaking her head in puzzlement.
"You're as dense as 'e is, luv. Ain't it plain enough yet
to both of you? Jalwar's a trader. They're goin' to try and
buy up the 'ole supply o' this medicine 'is sorcerership
needs so badly and 'old it for ransom." He stared at
Jon-Tom. "We told the old fart too much, mate, and now
'e's bent on doin' us dirty."
THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE
2O5
"Jalwar, maybe..." Jon-Tom mumbled unhappily, "but
I can't believe that Folly..."
"Why not, mate? Or did you think she were in love
with you? After wot she went through, she's just lookin'
out after 'erself. Can't blame 'er for that, wot?"
"But we were taking care of her, good care."
Mudge shrugged. "Not good enough, it seems. Like I
said, no tellin' wot old Jalwar promised 'er in return for
'elpin' Mm."
"What now, Jon-Tom?" asked Roseroar gently.
"We can't turn back. Map or no map. I suppose we
could go back to the village of the enchanted folk and get
another one, but that would put us weeks behind them. We
can't lose that much time if Mudge's suspicions are correct.
They'd beat us to the medicine easily. I studied that map
pretty intensively after Grelgen gave it to us. I can remember
some of it."
"That ain't the 'ole of it, mate." Mudge bent and put
his nose close to the ground. When he stood straight again,
his whiskers were twitching. "An otter can follow a scent
on land or through water if there's just enough personal
perfume left to tickle 'is nostrils. This track's fresh as a
new whore. Until it rains we've got a trail to follow, and
there's desert ahead. Maybe if we pee on the run we can
overtake the bloody double-crossers."
"Ah second the motion, suh. Let's not give up, Jon-
Tom."
"I wasn't thinking of gi
ving up, Roseroar. I was thinking
about what we're going to do when we do catch up with
them."
"That's the spirit!" She leaned close. "Leave the de-
tails to me." Her teeth were very white.
"I'm not sure that would be the civilized thing to do,
Roseroar." Despite the deception, the thought of Folly in
Roseroar's paws was not a pleasant one.
"All man actions are dictated by man society's code of
honah, Jon-Tom," she said stiffly. She frowned at a sudden
206
Alan Dean Foster
thought. "Don't tell me that after what's happened heah
yo still feel fo the little bitch?"
He was shouldering his backpack. "We still don't know
that she went with Jalwar voluntarily. Maybe he forced
her."
Mudge was waiting at the edge of the campsite, anxious
to get moving. "Come on now, mate. Even if you exclude
age as a consideration, the girl was bigger and stronger
than that old ferret. And she could always have screamed."
"Not necessarily. Not if Jalwar had a knife at her throat.
Look, I admit it looks like she went with him voluntarily,
but I won't condemn her until we know for sure. She's
innocent until proven guilty."
Mudge spat on the ground. "Another o' your other-
worldly misconceptions."
"It's not otherworldly. It's a universal truism," Jon-
Tom argued.
"Not in this universe it ain't."
Roseroar let them argue while she assumed the lead,
glancing occasionally at the ground to make sure they were
still on the trail, scanning the woods for signs of ambush.
For the moment she preferred to ignore both of her
argumentative companions.
From time to time Mudge would move up alongside her
to dip his nose to the earth. Sometimes the footprints of
their quarry would disappear under standing water or mix
with the tracks of other creatures. Mudge always regained
the trail.
"Must 'ave took off right after the last o' us fell
asleep," the otter commented that afternoon. "I guess
them to be at least six hours ahead of us, probably more."
"We'll catch them." Jon-Tom was covering the ground
easily with long, practiced strides.
"Maybe that ferret weren't so old as 'e made 'imself out
to be," Mudge suggested.
"We'll still catch them."
But the day went with no sign of girl and ferret. They
THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE
207
let Roseroar lead them on through the darkness, until
accumulating bumps and bruises forced Jon-Tom to call a
halt for the night. They slept fitfully and were up again
before the dawn.
By afternoon the last trees had surrendered to scrub
brush and bare rock. Ahead of them a broad, hilly plain of
yellow and brown mixed with the pure white of gypsum
stretched from horizon to horizon. It was high desert, and
as such, the heat was not as oppressive as it might have
been. It was merely dauntingly hot. The air was still and
windless, and the shallow sand clearly showed the tracks
of Jalwar and Folly.
It was a good thing, because the sand did not hold their
quarry's spoor as well as damp soil, and Mudge had
increasing difficulty distinguishing it from the tracks of
desert dwellers as they started out across the plain.
"I 'ope you remember that map well, mate."
"This is the Timeful Desert, as I remember it."
Mudge frowned. "I thought deserts were supposed to be
timeless, not timeful."
"Don't look at me. I didn't name it." He pointed
toward a low dune. "The only sure source of water is a
town in the middle of the desert called Redrock. The
desert's not extensive, but it's plenty big enough to kill us
if we lose our way.''
"That's a comfortin' thought to be settin' out with."
The otter looked up at Roseroar. "Any sign o' our friends,
tall tail?"
Roseroar's extraordinary eyesight scanned the horizon.
"Nothing but sand. Nothing moves."
"Can't say as 'ow I blame it." He kicked sand from his
boots.
By the morning of the next day the mountains had
receded far behind them. Jon-Tom busied himself by
searching for a suggestion of green, a hint of moisture. It
seemed impossible that the land could be utterly barren.
208
Alan Dean Foster
Even a stubby, tired cactus would have been a welcome
sight.
They saw nothing, which did not mean nothing existed
in the Timeful Desert. Only that if any life did survive, it
did not make itself known to the trio of travelers.
He felt sure they would overtake Jalwar and Folly, but
they did not. Not all that day nor the next.
It was on that third day that Mudge had them halt while
he knelt in the sand.
" 'Ere now, 'ave either of you two noticed this?"
"Noticed what?" The sweat was pouring down Jon-
Tom's face, as much in frustration at finding no sign of
their quarry as from the heat.
Mudge put a paw fiat on the ground. "This 'ere sand.
'Ave a close look."
Jon-Tom knelt and stared. At first he saw nothing. Then
one grain crept from beneath Mudge's fingers. A second, a
third, moving from west to east. Mudge's paw hadn't
moved them, nor had the wind. There was no wind.
At the same time as loose grains were shifting from
beneath the otter's paw, a small rampart of sand was
building up against the other side of his thumb. The sand
was moving, without aid of wind, from east to west.
Jon-Tom put his own hand against the hot sand, watched
as the phenomenon repeated itself. All around them, the
sand was shifting from east to west. He felt the small hairs
on the back of his neck stiffen.
4' Tis bloody creepy,' * the otter muttered as he rose and
brushed sand from his paws.
"Some underground disturbance," Jon-Tom suggested.
"Or something alive under the surface." That was not a
pleasant thought, and he hastened to discard it. They had
no proof that anything lived in this land, anyway.
"That's not all." Mudge gestured back the way they'd
come. "There's somethin' else mighty funny. See that 'ill
we passed the other day?" Jon-Tom and Mudge strained to
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
2O9
see the distant relative of a Serengeti kopje. " Tis lower
than it were."
"Nothing unnatural about that, Mudge. It's just shrink-
ing into the distance as we walk."
The otter shook his head insistently. " 'Tis shrinkin' too
bloomin' fast, mate." He shouldered his pack and resumed
the march. "One more thing. Don't it seem to either o'
you that we're walkin' downhill?"
Jon-Tom didn't try to hide his confusion. He gestured at
the western horizon. "We're on level ground. What are
you talking about?"
"I dunno." The otter strained to put his feelings into
words. "Tis just that somethin' don't
feel right 'ere,
mate. It just don't feel right."
That night the otter's nose proved of more help than his
sense of balance. They dug a hole through a dark stain in
the sand and were rewarded with a trickle of surprisingly
clear water. Patience enabled them to top off their water
skins and relieve their major anxiety. It was decided
unanimously to spend the night by the moisture seep.
Jon-Tom felt someone shaking him awake, peered sleep-
ily into still solid darkness. Mudge stared anxiously down
at him.
"Got somethin' for you to 'ave a looksee at, mate."
"At this hour? Are you nuts?"
"I 'ope so, mate," the otter whispered. "I sincerely
'ope so."
Jon-Tom sighed and unrolled himself. As he did so he
found himself spitting out sand. The full moon gleamed
brightly on their campsite, to reveal packs, weapons, and
Roseroar's feet partially buried in sand.
"The wind came up during the night, that's all." He
found he was whispering, too, though there seemed no
reason for it.
"Feel any wind now, mate?"
Jon-Tom wet a finger, stuck it into the air. "No. Not a
breeze."
"Then 'ave a look at your own feet, mate."
210
Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSOJVAJVCE
211
Jon-Tom did so. As he stared he saw sand flowing over
his toes. There was no wind at all, and now the sand was
moving much faster. He drew his feet up as if the pulver-
ized silica might bite him.
"Look all around, lad."
The sand was crawling westward at an ever more rapid
pace. It seemed to accelerate even as he watched. In
addition to the steady movement there came the first
murmurs of a dry, slithery, rasping sound as grains tumbled
over one another.
The discussion finally woke Roseroar. "What's goin' on
heah?"
"I don't know," Jon-Tom muttered, eyeing the crawling
ground. "The sand is moving, and much faster now than it
was yesterday. I'm not sure I want to know what's making
it move."
"Should we go back?" The tigress was slipping on her
sandals, shaking the grains from the leather.
"We can't go back." He pulled on his boots. "If we go
back now, we lose Jalwar, Folly, and likely as not,
Clothahump's medicine. But I won't force either of you to
stay with me. Roseroar, are you listening to me?"
She wasn't. Instead, she was pointing southward. "Ah
think we might get ourselves a second opinion. We have
Spellsinger 03 - The Day of the Dissonance Page 24