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

invitation only after Roseroar had climbed to her feet and

Mudge had moved close to his bow.

"That is right kind of you, sir. I am Hathcar." Jon-Tom

performed introductions all around.

Roseroar was sniffing the air, glanced accusingly down

at the visitor. "You are not alone."

"No, large she, I am not. Did I forget to mention it? I

am sorry and will now remedy my absentmindedness." He

put his lips together and emitted a sharp, high-pitched

whistle.

With much rustling of bushes a substantial number of

creatures stepped out into clear view, forming a line behind

the cuscus. They were an odd assortment, from the more

familiar rats and mice to bandicoots and phalangers. There

was even a nocturnal aye-aye, who wore large, dark

sunglasses and carried a short, sickle-shaped weapon.

Their clothes were on the ragged side, and their boots

and sandals showed signs of much usage. Altogether not a

prosperous-looking bunch, Jon-Tom decided. The presence

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of so many weapons was not reassuring. These were not

kindly villagers out for a daily stroll.

Still, if all they wanted was something to eat....

"You're welcome to join us," he told Hathcar. "There's

plenty for all."

Hathcar looked past him, to where Mudge was laboring

with the cooking. His tongue licked black lips.

"You are kind. Those of us who prefer meat haven't

made such a grand catch in many a day." He smiled as

best he could.

Jon-Tom gestured toward Roseroar. "Yes, she's quite

the huntress."

"She sizes the part. Still, there is but one of her and

many of us. How is it that she has been so successful and

we have not?"

"Skill is more important than numbers." One huge paw

caressed the hilt of a long sword.

Hathcar did not seem impressed. "Sometimes that can

be so, unless you are a hundred against one lizard."

"Sometimes," she agreed coolly, "but not always."

The cuscus changed the subject. ' 'What seek you strang-

ers in this remote land?"

"We're on a mission of importance for a great and

powerful wizard," Jon-Tom told him, "We go to the

village of Crancularn."

"Crancularn." Hathcar looked back at his colleagues,

who were hard-pressed to restrain their amusement. "That's

a fool's errand."

Jon-Tom casually let his fingers stray to his staff. He'd

had just about enough of this questioning, enigmatic visi-

tor. Either they wanted something to eat or they didn't,

and double-talk wasn't on the menu.

"Maybe you think we look like fools," Hathcar said.

All hints of laughter fled from the gang standing behind

him. Jon-Tom didn't reply, waited for what might come.

The cuscus's smile returned, and he moved toward the

fire. "Well, you have offered us a meal. That's a wise

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

225

decision. Certainly not one to be made by fools." He

pulled a throwing knife. "If I might try a bite? It looks

well done. My compliments to the cook." Mudge said

nothing.

Jon-Tom watched the visitor closely. Was he going to

cut meat with it... or throw it? He couldn't decide.

Something came flying through the air toward him. He

ducked and rolled, ending up on his feet holding the

ramwood staff protectively in front of him. Mudge picked

up his bow and notched an arrow into the string. Roseroar's

longswords flashed as they were drawn. All within a

couple of seconds.

Hathcar was careful not to raise the knife he now held.

Behind him, his colleagues gripped their own weapons

threateningly. But the cuscus was not glaring at Jon-Tom.

His gaze was on the creature who had come flying through

the air to land heavily next to the tall human.

The mongoose was clad entirely in black. It lay on its

belly, moaning. Strange marks showed on its narrow backside.

"Faset," Hathcar hissed, "what happened?" The mon-

goose rolled to look at him, yelped when its bruised pelvis

made contact with the ground.

"I happened." Everyone turned toward the voice.

The unicorn strolled casually into the clearing. It was

gold. Not the light gold of a palomino but a pure metallic

gold like the color of a coin or ring, except for white

patches on its forehead and haunches. It might have risen

from a vat of liquid gold except that Jon-Tom could clearly

see that the color was true, down to the shortest hair.

In its mouth it carried a small crossbow. This it dropped

at Jon-Tom's feet. Then it nodded meaningfully toward the

still groaning mongoose. Jon-Tom now recognized the

marks on the mongoose's pants. They were hoofprints.

Hathcar was beside himself as he glared furiously at the

unicorn. "Who the hell are you, four-foot? And who

asked you to interfere? This is none of your business."

The unicorn gazed at him out of lapis eyes, said coolly,

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THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

227

"1 am making it my business." He smiled at Jon-Tom.

"My name's Drom. I was grazing back in the woods when

I heard the talk. Ordinarily I would have ignored it, as I

ignored your presence." He nodded toward the mongoose,

who was trying to crawl back to its comrades while

avoiding Hathcar.

"However, I happened to chance upon this ebon worm

as he was aiming his little toy at your back." Drom raised

a hoof, brought it down on the crossbow. There was a

splintering sound. "The unpleasant one there," and he

nodded toward Hathcar, "was right. This was none

of my business. I don't trouble to involve myself in

the affairs of you social types. But I can't stand to

see anyone backshot." He turned his magnificent head,

the thin golden goatee fluttering, and glared back at

Hathcar.

"Yo ah a true gentlemale, suh," said Roseroar approvingly.

"You should have stayed out of this, fool." Hathcar

moved quickly to join his gang. "Anyway, he lies. No

doubt this insect," and he kicked at the miserable Faset,

"was trying to put a bolt through you. But that has nothing

to do with me."

"You called him by name," Jon-Tom said accusingly.

"A casual acquaintance." Hathcar continued to retreat.

His backers muttered uneasily.

"Glad you don't know 'im, friend." Mudge's arrow

followed the cuscus's backpedaling. "I'd 'ate to think you

'ad anything to do with 'is little ambushcade."

"What about your invitation?" Hathcar wanted to know.

"I think we'd rather dine alone," Jon-Tom smiled

thinly. "At least until we can sort things out."

"That's not very friendly of you. It's not polite to

withdraw an invitation once extended."

"My back," the mongoose blubbered. "I think my

back is broken."

"Shut up, asshole." Hathcar kicked him in the mouth

and blood squirted. The cuscus tried to grin at the tall

man. "Really, this thing has nothing to do with me." His

band was beginning to melt into the forest. "Always

hanging around, looking for sympathy. Sorry our visit

upset you. I understand." Then he too was gone, swallowed

by the vegetation.

Roseroar's ears were cocked forward. "They're still

movin' about," she murmured warily.

"Where?" Jon-Tom asked her.

"Back among the trees."

"They are spreading out in an attempt to encircle you,"

said the one-horned stallion.

"Permit me to congratulate you on your timely arrival,

mate." Mudge's eyes searched the woods as he spoke. "I

never sensed 'im."

"Nor did I," said Roseroar, sparing a glance for the