The Spellsinger Adventures Volume One: Spellsinger, the Hour of the Gate, and the Day of the Dissonance

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Are you sure you’re a virgin?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said tiredly. She’d heard this stranger discussing the matter with her mother.

  Hathcar turned and pointed back through the woods. “Back this way there’s a pool in a little hollow. Bring him there. We’ll be waiting.”

  “What happens when we get there?” she asked curiously.

  “None of your business, lit … Silky. Your daddy’s being paid for your services. You do what I want you to and you don’t ask questions.”

  “Okay.” She hesitated. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you? I’ve never seen a unicorn, but I’ve been told they’re real pretty.”

  “Oh, no, no, we won’t hurt him,” said Hathcar smoothly. “We just want to surprise him. We’re his friends, and we want to surprise him, and you won’t tell him about us because that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

  “I guess so.” She smiled brightly. “I like surprises, too. Can I watch when you surprise him?”

  “Sure you can,” Hathcar assured her innocently. “I think you’ll be surprised, too.” He turned to leave her, Brungunt and Parsh following.

  “It’s dark,” she said uncertainly.

  “You’ll be okay,” Brungunt told her. “Didn’t you say you were a big girl?”

  “That’s right, I am.”

  “Fine. Just bring the four-legs down to the pool.”

  “Why didn’t we just abduct the little bitch?” Parsh wanted to know as they made their way through the woods to rejoin the rest of the waiting band.

  “Big village,” Hathcar told him. “A good place to buy supplies. The price hurts, but it’ll be worth it. Besides, Brungunt here said the girl had to act voluntarily or the magic wouldn’t work.”

  “That’s so,” the wolf agreed, nodding. “It is so told.”

  “So it’s better all around this way,” Hathcar finished.

  Silky stood waiting, counting away the minutes to allow the unicorn’s friends time to ready their surprise. Then she strolled out into the small clearing in front of the broken old building. She was wearing her best dress. It clung to her budding figure as she moved. Her mother had spent fifteen minutes combing out the long auburn hair to make certain her daughter looked her best. The old wolf had insisted on it.

  Two gold pieces. That would buy a lot of things for the family, including candy. She determined to do exactly as the cuscus ordered, even if he’d been lying to her about the surprise he was planning. After all, the horned one was nothing to her.

  Still, she was trembling slightly at the prospect of actually meeting a unicorn as she stepped out into the silvery moonlight. There were many stories told about the shy, solitary four-legs. They kept to themselves in the deep forest, shunning civilization and intelligent company.

  The ancient stones before her were silent. Should she cry out? If she did, what could she say? “Here, unicorn”? There was no one to advise her, since Hathcar had joined the rest of his friends far back in the trees, out of sight and scent. The old wolf had assured her she had only to approach the ruins and the unicorn would come to her. Would come and would follow back to the pool. And the surprise waiting there.

  She stood before the ruins and waited.

  Within, there was movement she could not see. Dram’s head lifted, his nostrils twitching. He blinked at the bodies sleeping soundly around him. It was his turn on watch.

  Trotting silently so as not to disturb his newfound friends, he moved to one window slit and peered out. Standing alone in the moonlight was a small, slim figure.

  A human figure, young and pure. Ancient emotions began to pluck at him.

  Nodding at no one in particular, he quietly began pushing at the boulder which blocked the entryway. He worked with care, wanting to make positive identification of the beckoning shape outside without waking his companions.

  When the stone had been edged to one side he walked through the opening and stepped out onto the grass, sniffing at the air, which was heavy with the girl’s clean, sweet-smelling scent. She was alone. The night was still, and there was no wind to mask concealed odors.

  He walked over to the girl, who eyed him nervously and took a step backward.

  “Hello. You’re … awfully pretty.” She licked her lips, glanced over a shoulder once, then said confidently, “Won’t you come and walk with me? It’s a nice night in the forest.”

  “In a minute, little one. There’s something I have to do first.” Turning, he moved back to the ruins and stuck his head inside, let out a soft whinny. “Wake up.”

  There were stirrings on the floor. Lightest of sleepers, Roseroar sat up fast when she saw that the boulder defending them had been moved.

  “Now what?” She stared at the unicorn. “Explain yoself, suh.” She was on her feet and heading for the boulder. Drom cut her off. “If they come at us now …” she began warningly.

  “Relax, cat-a-mountain. They’re not coming. They’re not even watching us.” Behind them, Jon-Tom and Mudge were also awakening.

  “How do yo know?” Roseroar was peering cautiously out. She saw and smelled the girl immediately, but no one else.

  “Because they’ve decided to try something else.” He let out a soft, whinnying laugh. “By the time they realize this latest ploy has failed, it will be too late. We’ll be long gone from this place and beyond their reach. Who among you is the fleetest of foot?”

  “Roseroar over the long distance, me over the short. I think,” Jon-Tom told him sleepily, still not sure just what was going on.

  “Good. You and the otter climb onto my back and ride.”

  A sweet but anxious voice sounded from outside. “Who are you talking to? Why don’t you come out and talk with me?”

  “Who the ’ell is that?” Mudge rushed to a window. “Blimey, ’tis a girl!”

  “What?” Jon-Tom joined him, gaped at the figure standing in the clearing. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Tempting me.” Drom chuckled again. “Hathcar and his curs have moved out of scent range, no doubt to lie in wait to ambush me as I am drawn helplessly to them by this irresistibly pure young female.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “It’s part of an ancient legend, a very old magic.”

  “Lousy magic,” said Jon-Tom.

  “Oh, no, it’s very good magic, and very true. Only not in my case. We’re wasting time.” He turned his flank to Jon-Tom, tilted his head low. “Can you mount by yourself? Use my mane for a grip if you need one.”

  Jon-Tom climbed onto the broad, strong back easily, pulled Mudge up behind him.

  “Leave some room,” Drom instructed him. “We’re not leaving the girl here for Hathcar.” He trotted outside, Roseroar pacing him easily while restlessly searching the woods for signs of their enemies.

  Silky watched them approach. Hathcar and the old wolf hadn’t said anything about the unicorn’s companions. She stared worriedly at the big cat loping alongside the four legs. The tigress could swallow her in one gulp.

  Then the unicorn was standing close and smiling down at her over his goatee. “Do not be afraid, little one. All is well. How came you into this business?”

  She hesitated before replying. “They paid my mother and father. They paid them two gold pieces for me to come with them for the night and help them surprise you.”

  “Surprise me. I see,” murmured Drom, nodding knowingly.

  “You were supposed to follow me.” She turned and pointed. “That way, to a hollow full of water so your friends could surprise you.”

  “And a fine surprise that would’ve been, wot?” growled Mudge softly.

  “There’s been a change in plans,” Drom informed her. “Get onto my back, in front of this handsome gentleman. We’re taking you back to your parents. You did as requested and drew me out of my refuge. We’re just going to take a little detour, that’s all. So you’ve fulfilled your end of the contract, at least in part, and your parents should be enti
tled to keep whatever payment they’ve already received for your service.”

  “I don’t know.” She scuffed the ground with one foot. “I didn’t bring you to the pool.”

  “Is that your fault?” Drom leaned close. “You don’t really like those people out there, do you?”

  “No,” she said suddenly. “No, I don’t. But I had to do it. I had to.”

  “You are a true innocent, as you would have to be. You have done all you could.”

  “What about my candy?” she asked petulantly.

  Jon-Tom reached down a hand. The girl took it reluctantly and he swung her up in front of him. Her nearness reminded him uncomfortably of Folly.

  Drom turned and exploded into a wild gallop, restraining himself only enough to allow Roseroar to keep pace. Jon-Tom felt confident the unicorn could carry three fully grown men with ease. He, the girl, and Mudge were no burden at all.

  After they’d covered several kilometers, the stallion slowed. Roseroar was panting hard and they had made a clean escape from the ruins.

  “Wish I could see those bastards’ faces when they come lookin’ for us,” Mudge commented.

  “They’ll be looking for this one, too.” Jon-Tom smiled down at the other passenger. “Where’s your village, little girl?”

  “I am not a little girl!”

  “Sorry, young lady. Where do you live?”

  She stared into the woods. Her sense of direction was superb. A hand gestured to the north. “That way.”

  Drom nodded and changed direction as he headed down a gentle slope. He called back to Jon-Tom. “Will you continue on to Crancularn in search of your medicine, now that you have escaped the attentions of Hathcar’s band?”

  “We must,” Jon-Tom told him. “You’re welcome to accompany us if you like.”

  “Aye, mate,” said Mudge. “We’d be glad of your help.”

  “I have never been to Crancularn, though I know of it. I would be delighted to accompany you.”

  “It’s settled, then,” said a pleased Jon-Tom. Not only was the unicorn a welcome addition to their trio, it had to be admitted that riding was more fun than walking.

  By morning they were at the outskirts of the girl’s village. Cultivated fields surrounded the town. Jon-Tom let her down gently.

  “I didn’t do all I was supposed to do,” she muttered uneasily.

  “You did all you could. It’s not your fault that their plan didn’t work.”

  The town was enclosed by a strong wooden palisade and looked more than capable of withstanding an attack by any angry bunch of bandits. He didn’t think Hathcar would try to take revenge for his failure against the girl or her parents.

  “I still think you’re pretty,” the girl said to Drom. “Can I kiss you good-bye? That’s supposed to be good luck.”

  Drom smacked his lips with evident distaste. “I’d prefer you didn’t, but if you must.” He dropped his head, stood still for a buss just below the right eye.

  “Geh!” he muttered as she pulled away. “Now be on your way, human, and count yourself fortunate this night.”

  “Good-bye, unicorn. Good-bye, strangers.” She was still waving at them as they disappeared back into the forest.

  No armed mob of angry, frustrated bandits materialized to interrupt their progress as they swung back to the west. With luck it would be midday before Hathcar finally realized his plans had fallen through and ventured to check on the ruins.

  “I think I understand what was going on,” Jon-Tom murmured. “The girl was a virgin.”

  “’Ere now, mate,” Mudge protested, “I’ve been around meself, but even I can’t tell for certain just by lookin’.”

  “She’d have to have been for it to fit.” He glanced down at their mount. “She was a virgin, wasn’t she, Drom?” Roseroar looked on curiously.

  “The sight and scent of her suggested so,” the stallion replied.

  “I read something somewhere about the attentions of a virgin girl being irresistible to a unicorn.”

  “An ancient and more-or-less accurate notion, which Hathcar was counting on to draw me out. They would have succeeded with their plan except for ignorance of one fact.”

  “Wot fact, mate?” Mudge asked.

  Drom turned to look back at the otter. “I’m gay.” He increased his pace.

  “Uh, ’ere now, mate, maybe we’d all be better off walkin’ after all.”

  “Nonsense. We are still not far enough away from Hathcar’s troop to chance slowing down.”

  “That’s debatable. Besides, there’s no need for you to keep on carryin’ us about like this. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable or nothin’.”

  “It sounds to me as though you are the one who is feeling uneasy, otter.”

  “Wot, me? Not me, guv’nor. It’s just that I—”

  “What’s wrong with you, Mudge?” Jon-Tom asked him. “I thought you’d be glad of the chance to rest your precious feet.”

  “Relax, otter,” the stallion said. “You are not my type. Now if you happened to be a Percheron, or a Clydesdale, or maybe a shire …” He let the images trail off.

  “If you have to worry about something, think about Hathcar,” Jon-Tom instructed the otter.

  Mudge did so, though he still kept a wary eye on their mount. Later, his confusion was broken by the sound of distant thunder. Or perhaps it was only a bellow of outrage.

  Silky’s parents kept the money already paid to them by Hathcar, and as Jon-Tom surmised, the cuscus did not try to take it back by force from the heavily defended town. There seemed no way for him to vent his rage and frustration until it occurred to him that since the girl had truly done her best, if anything she actually deserved a bonus.

  So it was that while Silky did not get her much-desired candy, she was the only girl in the village who could look forward to the coming winter confidently, clad as she was in her brand-new wolfskin coat.

  The travelers stopped in late afternoon. The roast that Mudge had risked his life to salvage was almost gone, but Roseroar soon brought in enough fresh food for all. Drom nibbled contentedly at a nearby field of petal pedals. Each blue-and-pink flower produced a different musical note when it was munched.

  Mudge ate close to Jon-Tom. “Don’t it bother you, mate?”

  “Don’t …doesn’t what bother me?”

  The otter nodded toward the unicorn. “’Im.”

  Jon-Tom bit into his steak. The meat was succulent and rich with flavor. “He saved us once and might save us again. As for his personal sexual preferences, I could care less. He’d be downright inconspicuous on Hollywood Boulevard.”

  “Well, maybe you’re right. Now, me, I knew it from the first. The way ’e minced out of the woods toward us.”

  Drom overheard, lifted his muzzle, and said with dignity, “I do not mince, otter. I prance.” He looked at Jon-Tom. “You really believe your former acquaintances will beat you to Crancularn and to the medicine you have come for?”

  “I hope not, but I fear it. They stole our only map.”

  “That is a small loss. Do not regret it.” The unicorn crunched a clump of purple ormods with petals the shade of enameled amethyst. The flowers hummed as they were consumed. “I can guide you there.”

  “We were told it moves around.”

  “Only in one’s imagination. There are those who stumble through it without seeing it, or circle ’round it as if blind. So they say it has moved. It does not move, but to find it you must wish to. I know. I was told by those who could know. I will lead you to Crancularn.”

  “That’s bleedin’ wonderful,” Mudge confessed aloud. He was mad at himself. There was no reason for him to be nervous or wary in the unicorn’s presence. Drom was a likable chap, wasn’t he, and Mudge didn’t look in the least like a shire horse, did he? And hadn’t he always been told never to look a gift unicorn in the mouth? He was upset with himself.

  Hadn’t the four-legs carried himself and Jon-Tom all this way from Hathcar’s territory wi
thout complaining? Why, with him galloping along and the rest of them taking turns riding him, they might yet overtake that prick Jalwar and his whore of a helpmate Folly.

  They made rapid progress westward, but still there was no sign of their former friends.

  When they finally found themselves on the outskirts of Crancularn itself, Jon-Tom found it hard to believe. He’d half come to think of the town as existing only in Clothahump’s imagination. Yet there it was.

  Yes, there it was, and after too many close calls with death, after crossing the Muddletup Moors and the Glittergeist Sea and innumerable hills and vales, he was more than a little discouraged by the sight of it.

  The setting was impressive enough: a heavily forested slope that climbed the flank of a slowly smoking volcano. The town itself, however, was about as awe-inspiring as dirty, homey Lynchbany. Tumble-down shacks and ramshackle two-and three-story buildings of wood and mud crowded close to one another as if fearful of encountering the sunlight. A dirty fog clung to the streets and the angular, slate-roofed structures. As they headed toward the town, a familiar odor made his nostrils contract: the thick musk of the unwashed of many species mixed with the stink of an open sewer system. His initial excitement was rapidly fading.

  Massive oaks and sycamores grew within the town itself, providing more shade where none was required and sometimes even shouldering buildings aside. Jon-Tom was about to ask Drom if perhaps they might have come to the wrong place when the unicorn reared back on its hind hooves and nearly dumped him and Mudge to the ground. Roseroar snarled as she assumed a defensive posture.

  Coming straight at them, belching smoke and bellowing raggedly, was a three-footed demon. A rabbit rode the demon’s back. This individual wore a wide-brimmed felt hat; a long-sleeved shirt of muslin, open halfway; and a short mauve skirt similar to the kilts favored by the intelligent arboreals of this world. His enormous feet were unshod.

  The demon slowed as it approached. Jon-Tom drew in a deep breath as it stopped in front of him and hastened to reassure his companions. “It’s all right. It can’t harm you.”

  “How do yo know, Jon-Tom?” Roseroar kept her hands on her sword hilts.

  “Because I know what it is. It’s a Honda ATC Offroad Three-wheeler.” He admired the red-painted demon. “Automatic too. I didn’t know Honda made an ATC with automatic.”