Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 03 - The Day of the Dissonance

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.

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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 astonishing

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