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

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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-

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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 giving 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

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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

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