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

towers and buildings had been constructed. In the first

moonlight and the last rays of the sun the city looked as if

it were on fire.

Now they found themselves among other stragglers—

some on foot, others living in free association with camels

and burros. Some snapped frantic whips over the heads of

dray lizards.

Several ostrich families raced past, heavy backpacks

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strapped to their useless wings. They carried no passen-

gers. Nor did the family of cougars that came loping in

from the north, running on hind legs like Roseroar. Bleating

and barking, honking and complaining, these streams of

divergent life came together in pushing, shoving lines that

struggled to enter the city.

"We're going to make it!" he shouted to his compan-

ions as they merged with the rear of the mob. He was

afraid to look back lest an avalanche of brown-and-yellow

particles prove him a fatal liar. His throat felt like the

underside of the hood of a new Corvette after a day of

drag-racing, but he didn't dare stop for a drink until they

were safely inside the city walls.

Then the ground fell away beneath him.

They were on a bridge, and looking down he could see

through the cracks in the wood. The lumber to build it

must have come from distant mountains. There was no

bottom to the moat, a black ring encircling the city.

His first thought was that Redrock had been built on a

hill in the center of some ancient volcanic crater. A glance

at the walls of the moat proved otherwise. They were too

regular, too smooth, and too vertical to have been fashioned

by hand. Something had dug the awesome ring. Who or

what, he could not imagine.

Thick smells and heavy musk filled the air around him.

The bridge seemed endless, the gaps between the heavy

timbers dangerously wide. If he missed a step and put a

leg through, he wouldn't fall, but he would be trampled by

the anxious mass of life crowding about him.

Once within the safety of the city walls, the panic

dissipated. Lines of tall guards clad in yellow shepherded

the exhausted flow of refugees into the vast courtyard

beyond the gate. There were no buildings within several

hundred yards of the wall and the moat just beyond. A

great open space had been provided for all who sought

shelter from the rising sands. How often did this phenom-

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enon take place? The camel and the pack rat hadn't said,

but it was obviously a regular and predictable occurrence.

"I have to see what's going on outside," he told

Roseroar. She nodded, towering above most of the crowd.

Tents had been set up in expectation of the flood of

refugees. Jon-Tom and his companions were among the

last to enter, but they had interests other than shelter.

"This way," the tigress told him. She took his hand and

pulled him bodily through the milling, swarming crowd, a

striped iceberg breasting a sea of fur. Somehow Mudge

managed to keep up.

Then they found themselves by the city wall, followed

it until they came to stone stairs leading upward. Jon-Tom

let loose of Roseroar's paw and led the way.

Would the sand wave fill the moat? If so, what would

happen afterward?

A few others already stood watching atop the wall. They

were calm and relaxed, so Jon-Tom assumed there was no

danger. Everyone in the city was handling the situation too

well for there to be any danger.

One blase guard, a tall serval wearing a high turban to

protect his delicate ears, stood aside to let them pass.

"Mind the vibration, visitors," he warned them

They reached the top and stared out over the desert.

Beyond the moat, the world was turning upside down.

There was no sign of the far mountains they had left

many days ago. No sign of any landmark. Not a rock

protruded from the ground. There was only the sand sea

rising and rushing toward the city in a single wave two

hundred feet high, roaring like a billion pans of frying

bacon. Jon-Tom wanted to reach back and put his hand on

the guard, to ask what was going to happen next. Since

none of the other onlookers did so, he held his peace and

like them, simply stood and gaped.

The massive wave did not fall forward to smash against

the puny city walls. It began to slide into the dark moat,

pouring in a seemingly endless waterfall into the unbelievable

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excavation. The wave was endless, too. As they watched

it seemed to grow even higher, climbing toward the clouds

as its base disappeared into the moat.

The thunder was all around him, and he could feel the

sandstone blocks quivering underfoot. Jon-Tom turned.

Across the roofs of the city, in all directions, he could see

the wave. The city was surrounded by rushing sand hun-

dreds of feet high and inestimable in volume, all of it

cascading down into the depths which surrounded Redrock.

Thirty minutes passed. The wave began to shrink. Un-

countable tons of sand continued to pour into the moat,

which still showed no sign of filling up. Another thirty

minutes and the torrent had slowed to a trickle. A few

minutes more and the last grains tumbled into the abyss.

Beyond, the moon illuminated the skeleton of the de-

sert. Bare rock stood revealed, as naked as the surface of

the moon. Between the city and the mountains, nothing

lived, nothing moved. A few hollows showed darkly

in the rock, ancient depressions now emptied of sand and

gravel.

A soft murmur rose from the onlookers as they turned

away from the moat and the naked desert to face the center

of the city. Jon-Tom and his companions turned with them.

In the exact center of Redrock a peculiar glassy tower

stood apart from the sandstone buildings. All eyes focused

on the slim spire. There was a feeling of expectation.

He was about to give in to curiosity and ask the guard

what was going to happen when he heard something

nimble. The stone under his feet commenced quivering. It

was a different tremor this time, as though the planet itself

were in motion. The rumbling deepened, became a roar-

ing, then a constant thunder. Something was happening

deep inside the earth.

"What is it, what's going on?" Roseroar yelled at him.

He did not reply and could not have made himself heard

had he tried.

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Sudden, violent wind blew hats from heads and veils

from faces. Jon-Tom's cape stretched out straight behind

him like an iridescent flag. He staggered, leaned into the

unexpected hurricane as he tried to see the tower.

The sands of the Timeful Desert erupted skyward from

the open mouth of the glass pillar, climbing thousands of

feet toward the moon. Reaching some predetermined height,

the silica geyser started to spread out beneath the clouds.

Jon-Tom instinctively turned to seek shelter, but stopped

when he saw that none of the other pilgrims had moved.

As though sliding down an invisible roof, the sand did

not fall anywhere within the city walls. Instead, it spread

out like a cloud, to fall as yellow rain across the desert. It

continued to fall for hours as the tower blasted it into the

sky. Only when the moon was well past its zenith and had

begun to set again did the volume decrease and finally

peter out.

Then the geyser fell silent. The chatter of the refugees