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

Roseroar wasn't about to let this scheming adolescent take

advantage of him. And take advantage of him Folly

would, if given half a chance. Roseroar was sure of that

much. She shook her head as Jon-Tom allowed himself to

be smothered with verbal pap, astonished at the naivete

displayed during courtship by the human species. She'd

thought better of him.

She ignored it for as long as she could, until she was

unable to stand the veiled remarks and coy queries any

longer.

"Ah think we can slow down some now." Jon-Tom and

Mudge agreed with her. Everyone slowed to a fast walk.

Roseroar moved close to the girl. "And ah also think it

would be a good ideah if we all kept quiet foah a while.

We don't want to attract any undue attention. In addition

to which, if ah'm forced to listen to any moan o' yoah

simperin', girl, ah may vomit."

Folly eyed the tigress. "Something bothering you?"

"Nothin' much, little female. It's just that ah have a

great respect foah the language. Hearin' it used so foolishly

always upsets mah digestion."

Folly turned to Jon-Tom. She flashed blue eyes and

blonde hair in the reflected light from storefronts and street

lamps. Her skin, wet with drizzle, sparkled.

"Do you think I'm talking foolish, Jon-Tom?"

"Maybe just a little, yes."

She responded with a much practiced and perfectly

formed pout. Roseroar sighed and turned away, wondering

why she went to the trouble. The spellsinger had shown

himself to be a man of intelligence and insight. It dis-

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175

tressed her to see him so blatantly manipulated. She

increased her stride so she wouldn't have to listen to

any more of it.

"You don't like me," Folly murmured to Jon-Tom.

"Of course I like you.

"I knew you did!" She turned and threw her arms

around him, making him stagger. "I knew you liked me!"

"Please, Folly." Jon-Tom reluctantly worked to disen-

gage himself. Roseroar would have been happy to help,

though she might have broken both of the girl's arms in

the process. "Folly, I already have a woman." Her expres-

sion fell abruptly. She moved away from him, once more

concentrating on the street ahead.

"You never told me that."

"It was never necessary to tell you. Her name's Talea.

She lives near a town called Lynchbany, which lies far

across the Glittergeist."

Otter ears overheard and Mudge fell back to join them.

"O' course, she ain't really 'is woman," he said con-

versationally, thoroughly delighting in Jon-Tom's discom-

fort. "They're just friends is all."

Folly's delight returned upon hearing this disclosure.

"Oh, that's all right, then!"

"Besides, you're much too young for what you're

thinking," Jon-Tom told her, impaling Mudge with a stare

promising slow death.

"Too young for what?"

"Just too young." Strange. The right words had been

there on his lips just a moment earlier. Odd how they

vanished the instant you needed them.

"Bet I could convince you otherwise," she said

coquettishly.

"Here's the right cross street," he said hastily, lengthening

his stride. "We'll be back at the inn in a couple of

minutes."

A short furry shape jumped from an alcove ahead of

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him. Roseroar reached for her swords. Folly hid behind

Jon-Tom as Mudge put a hand to his bow.

They relaxed when the shape identified itself.

"Jalwar!" Jon-Tom couldn't conceal his surprise. "What

are you doing out here?" He tried to see past the ferret.

The oldster put a finger to his lips and beckoned for

them to follow. They crept along behind him, turned down

a long narrow alley. It was ripe with moldering garbage.

Jalwar pointed to the main street beyond.

Both of their heavily laden wagons were still hitched to

the rails outside the inn. Idling around the wagons were at

least two dozen uniformed skunks and civet cats from

Snarken's olfactory constabulary. Several well-dressed ci-

vilians lounged next to the front wagon and chatted amia-

bly with the officer in charge of the cops.

Jalwar drew back into the shadows. "I saw them ar-

rive," he whispered. "Many have stayed outside with our

wagons. Others went upstairs searching for us. I was

drinking and overheard in time to sneak away. I listened

when they came back down and talked to others and to the

innkeeper." The ferret's gaze shifted from Jon-Tom to

Mudge. "They were talking about you."

"Me?" Mudge squeaked, suddenly sounding defensive.

"Now, why would they be talkin' about me?"

"Because," Jalwar replied accusingly, "it seems you

spent some time playing at dice with several of them."

"So wot's wrong with a friendly little game o' dice.

Blimey, you'd think one o' them caught me in the sack

with 'is bleedin' daughter."

It came to Jon-Tom in a rush: the finely fashioned

wagons, the handsome dray animals, the new harnesses,

the mountainous stock of supplies.

"Mudge ..." he said dangerously.

The otter retreated. There was little room to maneuver

in the alley, a fact he was acutely conscious of.

"Now, mate, take it easy. We needed them supplies,

now, didn't we? Tis in a good cause, ain't it? Think o' 'is

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177

poor sickly wizardship lyin' and waitin' for us way back in

Lynchbany and all the folks who need 'im well and 'ealthy

again."

"How did you manage it, Mudge? How did you cheat

so many of them at the same time?"

"Well, we otter folk are known for our quickness, and

I've always been quick as any."

"Y'all must've been a little too quick this time."

Roseroar peered toward the inn. "Judgin* from the number

o' police about, ah'd say you defrauded moah than a few

idle sailors."

"Wouldn't be much point in defrauding poor folks,

now, would there, luv? Wot we got from sellin' the ship

weren't near enough to buy supplies an' equipment for a

proper expedition, but 'twere plenty to buy me into a

handsome game o' chance with a few leadin' citizens."

"Fat lot of good those supplies do us now," Jon-Tom

muttered.

Jalwar was rummaging through a pile of broken crates.

"Here." He dragged out their backpacks. "I was able to

throw these from our rooms while they were still searching

for us below. It was all I had time to save."

Jon-Tom wiped grime from his own pack. "Jalwar,

you're a wonder. Thanks."

"A small service, sir." Jon-Tom didn't bother to correct

the ferret anymore. Let him say "sir" if it pleased him. "I

only wish I could have informed you sooner, but I could

not follow your path quickly enough." He smiled apologeti-

cally. "These aged legs of mine."

"It wouldn't have mattered. We were occupied with

saving Folly."

"What now?" Roseroar wondered as she hefted her

own massive pack.

Jon-Tom considered. "We can't hang around here. Now

the cops have two reasons for picking us up. They might

go easy on us over the Friends of the Street business, but

not about this. For one thing, that officer in charge is a

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little too chummy with the citizens Mudge cheated. I'm

not anxious to tour the inside of Snarken's prison."

"Give me a break, mate," whined the otter. "If you

'adn't been so set on goin' after "er"—he pointed toward

Folly—"we'd 'ave cleared this dump 'ours ago." He

glared disgustedly at the girl. "I blame meself for it,