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

Jon-Tom felt confident the unicorn could carry three fully

grown men with ease. He, the girl, and Mudge were no

burden at all.

244

Alan Dean Foster

After they'd covered several kilometers, the stallion

slowed. Roseroar was panting hard and they had made a

clean escape from the ruins.

"Wish I could see those bastards' faces when they come

lookin' for us," Mudge commented.

"They'll be looking for this one, too." Jon-Tom smiled

down at the other passenger, "Where's your village, little

girl?"

"I am not a little girl!"

"Sorry, young lady. Where do you live?"

She stared into the woods. Her sense of direction was

superb. A hand gestured to the north. "That way."

Drom nodded and changed direction as he headed down

a gentle slope. He called back to Jon-Tom. "Will you

continue on to Crancularn in search of your medicine, now

that you have escaped the attentions of Hathcar's band?"

"We must," Jon-Tom told him. "You're welcome to

accompany us if you like."

"Aye, mate," said Mudge. "We'd be glad of your

help."

"I have never been to Crancularn, though I know of it. I

would be delighted to accompany you."

"It's settled, then," said a pleased Jon-Tom. Not only

was the unicorn a welcome addition to their trio, it had to

be admitted that riding was more fun than walking.

By morning they were at the outskirts of the girl's

village. Cultivated fields surrounded the town. Jon-Tom let

her down gently.

"I didn't do all I was supposed to do," she muttered

uneasily.

"You did all you could. It's not your fault that their plan

didn't work."

The town was enclosed by a strong wooden palisade and

looked more than capable of withstanding an attack by any

angry bunch of bandits. He didn't think Hathcar would try

to take revenge for his failure against the girl or her

parents.

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

245

"I still think you're pretty," the girl said to Drom.

"Can I kiss you good-bye? That's supposed to be good

luck."

Drom smacked his lips with evident distaste. "I'd prefer

you didn't, but if you must." He dropped his head, stood

still for a buss just below the right eye.

"Gen!" he muttered as she pulled away. "Now be on

your way, human, and count yourself fortunate this night."

"Good-bye, unicorn. Good-bye, strangers." She was

still waving at them as they disappeared back into the

forest.

No armed mob of angry, frustrated bandits materialized

to interrupt their progress as they swung back to the west.

With luck it would be midday before Hathcar finally

realized his plans had fallen through and ventured to check

on the ruins.

"I think I understand what was going on," Jon-Tom

murmured. "The girl was a virgin."

" 'Ere now, mate," Mudge protested, "I've been around

meself, but even I can't tell for certain just by lookin'."

"She'd have to have been for it to fit." He glanced

down at their mount. "She was a virgin, wasn't she,

Drom?" Roseroar looked on curiously.

"The sight and scent of her suggested so," the stallion

replied.

"I read something somewhere about the attentions of a

virgin girl being irresistible to a unicorn."

"An ancient and more-or-less accurate notion, which

Hathcar was counting on to draw me out. They would have

succeeded with their plan except for ignorance of one

fact."

"Wot fact, mate?" Mudge asked.

Drom turned to look back at the otter. "I'm gay." He

increased his pace.

"Uh, 'ere now, mate, maybe we'd all be better off

walkin' after all."

246

Man Dean Foster

THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE

247

"Nonsense. We are still not far enough away from

Hathcar's troop to chance slowing down."

"That's debatable. Besides, there's no need for you to

keep on carryin' us about like this. Don't want to make

you uncomfortable or nothin'."

"It sounds to me as though you are the one who is

feeling uneasy, otter."

"Wot, me? Not me, guv'nor. It's just that I—"

"What's wrong with you, Mudge?" Jon-Tom asked

him. "I thought you'd be glad of the chance to rest your

precious feet."

"Relax, otter," the stallion said. "You are not my type.

Now if you happened to be a Percheron, or a Clydesdale,

or maybe a shire..." He let the images trail off.

"If you have to worry about something, think about

Hathcar," Jon-Tom instructed the otter.

Mudge did so, though he still kept a wary eye on their

mount. Later, his confusion was broken by the sound of

distant thunder. Or perhaps it was only a bellow of

outrage.

Silky's parents kept the money already paid to them by

Hathcar, and as Jon-Tom surmised, the cuscus did not try

to take it back by force from the heavily defended town.

There seemed no way for him to vent his rage and

frustration until it occurred to him that since the girl had

truly done her best, if anything she actually deserved a

bonus.

So it was that while Silky did not get her much-desired

candy, she was the only girl in the village who could look

forward to the coming winter confidently, clad as she was

in her brand-new wolfskin coat.

The travelers stopped in late afternoon. The roast that

Mudge had risked his life to salvage was almost gone, but

Roseroar soon brought in enough fresh food for all. Drom

nibbled contentedly at a nearby field of petal pedals. Each

blue-and-pink flower produced a different musical note

when it was munched.

Mudge ate close to Jon-Tom. "Don't it bother you,

mate?"

"Don't... doesn't what bother me?"

The otter nodded toward the unicorn. " 'Im."

Jon-Tom bit into his steak. The meat was succulent and

rich with flavor. "He saved us once and might save us

again. As for his personal sexual preferences, I could care

less. He'd be downright inconspicuous on Hollywood

Boulevard."

"Well, maybe you're right. Now, me, I knew it from

the first. The way 'e minced out of the woods toward us."

Drom overheard, lifted his muzzle, and said with digni-

ty, "I do not mince, otter. I prance." He looked at

Jon-Tom. "You really believe your former acquaintances

will beat you to Crancularn and to the medicine you have

come for?"

"I hope not, but I fear it. They stole our only map."

"That is a small loss. Do not regret it." The unicorn

crunched a clump of purple ortnods with petals the shade

. of enameled amethyst. The flowers hummed as they were

consumed. "I can guide you there."

"We were told it moves around."

"Only in one's imagination. There are those who stum-

ble through it without seeing it, or circle 'round it as if

blind. So they say it has moved. It does not move, but to

find it you must wish to. I know. I was told by those who

could know. I will lead you to Crancularn."

"That's bleedin' wonderful," Mudge confessed aloud.

He was mad at himself. There was no reason for him to be

nervous or wary in the unicorn's presence. Drom was a

likable chap, wasn't he, and Mudge didn't look in the least

like a shire horse, did he? And hadn't he always been told

never to look a gift unicorn in the mouth? He was upset

with himself.

Hadn't the four-legs carried himself and Jon-Tom all this

way from Hathcar's territory without complaining? Why,

with him galloping along and the rest of them taking turns

248

Alan Dean Poster

riding him, they might yet overtake that prick Jalwar and