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

was a brief delay. Several small figures made their way

through the enchanted mob and took up positions atop the

stone wall. Each carried a delicate instrument. There were

a couple of flutes, a set of drums, and something that

resembled a xylophone which had been in a bad traffic

accident.

"What should we play?" piped one of the minuscule

musicians.

"Something lively."

"A dance or roundelet?" They discussed the matter

among themselves, then launched into a lively tune with

faintly oriental overtones. Jon-Tom waited until he was

sure of the rhythm, then smiled at his attentive if uncertain

audience.

"Ready? Let's begin! Imitate me." He dipped. "Come

on, it's not hard. One, two, three, and bend; one, two,

three, and bend;... that's it!"

While Jon-Tom's companions looked on, several hun-

dred fairy folk struggled to duplicate the human's move-

ments. Before too long, groans and moans all out of

proportion to the size of the throats they came from filled

the air.

Grelgen was gasping and sweating. Her orange chiffon

gown was soaked. "You're sure that you're not actually

trying to murder us?"

"Oh, no." Jon-Tom was breathing a little hard himself.

"See, this isn't an instantaneous kind of magic. It takes

time." He sat down and put his hands behind his neck,

wondering how far he could go before Grelgen gave up.

"Now, this kind of magic is called sirups. Up, down, up,

down ... you in the back there, no slacking, now... up,

down..."

He worried constantly that Grelgen and her colleagues

would become impatient before the new exercise regimen

had time to do its work. He needn't have worried. The

enchanted folk took weight off as rapidly as they put it on.

By the second day the most porcine of the villagers could

boast of shrunken waistlines. By the third the effects were

being felt by all, and by the fourth even Grelgen could stay

airborne for short flights.

"I don't understand, mate," said Kludge. "You said it

'tweren't magic, yet see 'ow quick-like they're shrinkin'

down!"

"It's their metabolic rate. They burn calories much

faster than we do, and as soon as they get down to where

they can fly again, the burning accelerates."

The results were reflected in Grelgen's changing atti-

tude. As the exercises did their work, her belligerence

softened. Not that she became all sweetness and light, but

her gratitude was evident.

"A most wondrous gift you have given us, man. A new.

kind of magic." It was the morning of the fifth day of their

captivity and a long time since any of the enchanted folk

had suggested having one of their guests for supper.

"I have a confession to make. It's not magic. It's only

exercise."

"Call it by whatever name you wish," she replied, "it

is magic to us. We are starting to look like the enchanted

folk once more. Even I," she finished proudly. She did a

deep knee-bend to prove it, something she couldn't have

imagined doing five days earlier. Of course, she did it

while hovering in midair, which made it somewhat easier.

Still, the accomplishment was undeniable.

"You are free to go," she told them.

Roseroar stepped forward and cautiously thrust out a

paw. The invisible wall of fire which had kept them

imprisoned had vanished, leaving behind only a little

lingering heat. The tigress stepped easily over the tiny

stone wall.

"Our gratitude is boundless," Grelgen went on. "You

said you came to us for help." She executed a neat little

2OO

Alan Dean Foster

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

2O1

pirouette in the air, delighting in her rediscovered mobility.

"What is it you wish to know?"

"We need directions to a certain town," he told her. "A,

place called Crancularn."

"Ah. An ambiguous destination. Not mine to

why. Wait here." She flew toward the village, droning

a wasp, and returned several minutes later with four newh

slimmed Elders. They settled on the wall. Between them,

the four Elders held a piece of parchment six inches

square. It was the biggest piece of writing material the

village could produce.

"Crancularn, you said?" Jon-Tom nodded at her.

She rolled up the sleeves of her burgundy-and-lime

dress, waved the wand over the parchment as she spoke.

The parchment twisted like a leaf in the wind. It continued

to quiver as a line of gold appeared on its surface, tracing

the outlines of mountains and rivers, trails, and paths.

None of them led directly toward the golden diamond that

shone brightly in the upper-lefthand corner of the parchment.

Grelgen finished the incantation. The parchment ceased

its shaking, allowing the concentrating Elders to relax their

grip. Jon-Tom picked the freshly inscribed map off the

grass. It was warm to the touch. One tiny spot not far from

a minor trail fluoresced brightly.

"The glow shows you where you are at any time,"

Grelgen informed him. "It will travel as you travel. Hold

fast to the map and you will never be lost." She rose on

diaphanous wings to hover near his shoulder and trace over

the map with her wand. "See? No easy journey from here

and no trails directly to the place."

"We're told Crancularn moves about."

"So it does. It has that characteristic. But the map will

take you there, never fear. This is the cartography of what

will be as well as of what is. A useful skill which we

rarely employ. We like it where we are."

Jon-Tom thanked her as he folded the map and slipped it

carefully into a pocket of his indigo shirt.

Grelgen hovered nearby. "Tell me, man. Why do you

go to Crancularn?"

"To shop for something in the Shop of the Aether and

Neither." She nodded, a grave expression on her tiny face.

"We've heard many rumors," he went on. "Is there

something dangerous about the shop?"

"Indeed there is, man. Included among its usual in-

ventory is a large supply of the Truth. That is something

most travelers seek to avoid, not to find. Beware what

purchases you make. There are bonuses and discounts to

be had in that place you may not find to your liking."

"We'll watch our step," he assured her.

She nodded solemnly. "Watch your hearts and souls as

well. Good luck to you, man, and to your companions.

Perhaps if you return by a similar route we can show you

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