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

Those brigands weren't attacking you. It was all a ploy to

let you worm yourself into our company."

"An apt metaphor, Jon-Tom," said Roseroar.

"Tell me something," Jon-Tom went on quietly. "How

much is Zancresta paying you to keep this medicine from

Clothahump?"

The ferret burst out laughing, though the business end of

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265

the strange weapon he held did not waver. "Paying me?

You idiots! Spellsinger? Pah! / am Zancresta! Wizard of

Malderpot, supreme master of the arcane arts, diviner of

the unknown and parter of the shrouds! Fools, beggars of a

humble knowledge, you are blinder than the troglodytes of

Tatrath and dumber than the molds that grub out an

existence in the cracks between the stones."

The ferret seemed to swell in their eyes as they stared,

though neither his size nor shape actually changed. But the

curved spine stiffened, the voice was no longer shaky, and

an inner unholy light emanated from suddenly bottomless

eyes while a barely perceptible dark aura sprang to malev-

olent life around him.

"I didn't think you'd get this far, none of you! But

where a spellsinger, however inept, is involved, there are

never any assurances. So when you escaped from Malderpot

and my servants lost you in the woods, I determined to

find you myself. Your bold and unforeseen move into the

Muddletup Moors confused me, I must admit. But only for

a time, and I was just able to intercept you on the shores of

the Glittergeist and execute my little charade.

"I did not think I would be with you long, but luck and

false fortune seemed to follow you wherever you went.

Across the ocean, on this kindred spirit's vessel, even into

the land of the bellicose enchanted folk. When you not

only managed your release from their hands but induced

them to assist you with a map, I determined to press on

ahead on my own to seek out this Shop of the Aether and

Neither and buy up all the necessary medicine before you

could arrive.

"And again you surprised me, not out of cleverness or

insight, but through blind luck. So Corroboc and I paral-

leled your progress through this bloated emporium of

useless goods, he flying above to check periodically on

your position, until you kindly located the object of the

quest for me. Which I will now take possession of." He

glanced up at Snooth.

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"I do not think she has in hand a device or medicine

that can save her from the fast-acting effects of hruth

venom. Once that container has been handed over I will

relieve you of your weapons and leave you to the tender

attentions of my patient friend. Perhaps he will grow bored

before all of you are dead." Corroboc made neat, thin

slices in one of his own feathers with the razor-sharp

sword while Zancresta looked suddenly wistful.

"Ah, the day that I stand at that fat fraud's bedside,

holding the precious medicine he so desperately requires

just beyond his feeble reach, making him plead and beg

for it, that will be a day of triumph indeed."

"What have you done with Folly!"

Zancresta came back from his private reverie. "Ah, my

pack animal and my insurance. I have never feared you,

spellsinger, but your talents act in ways wayward and

unpredictable. Sometimes it is awkward to deal with such

implausibilities, and I do worry some on the impetuous

nature of your companions.

"Knowing of your insipidly tender nature, I took care to

keep the girl tightly under my control, lest she foolishly try

to run to you for misguided salvation."

"You hypnotized her?"

"I am unfamiliar with the term, but if you mean did I

blur her simple mind in order to make her compliant, yes.

I no longer have need of her as crude labor or as insurance

against your actions, however." He pointed down the

aisle.

"These shelves reach far back into the mountain, which

you may have noticed is of volcanic origin. I would

presume that each aisle ends in a fairly hot place. Perhaps

the proprietress stores goods back there that require con-

stant heat. Being of a warm nature myself, I dismissed the

girl and bid her wander down to the end of the aisle. She

acquired on Corroboc's ship a dark coloration which I

venture to say will change rapidly to red as she stumbles

into the hot center of this mountain."

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

267

Jon-Tom took a step backward and Zancresta raised his

peculiar multiple dart-thrower. "Let her go. She is nothing."

There was a flash of gold from behind Roseroar. Again

Zancresta raised the weapon, but a feathery hand came

down on his arm.

"Nay, let the horned one go," snarled Corroboc. "I've

no real quarrel with him. He won't be in time to save the

girl and I want these three left alive and conscious." He

started toward the ladder, sword in one hand, the other

outstretched toward Snooth. "The medicine, if you please,

hag."

"As you wish."

"No!" Jon-Tom shouted. "Don't give it to him!"

The kangaroo's reply was firm. "I am not a party to

what is a private quarrel. This is between you and him."

She handed over the precious container. "Here, catch." At

the last instant she tossed it toward the pirate captain.

Corroboc grabbed for the small plastic cylinder and

missed. It struck the floor, vaporizing instantly and spitting

out a thick cloud of black smoke.

Jon-Tom threw himself sideways and down. The dart-

thrower twanged and something struck his boot while

others thunked harmlessly into the back of his thick snake-

skin cape. He heard no screams of pain and prayed that his

friends had also managed to dodge Zancresta's weapon.

He started to rise, preparing to do battle with his staff,

when it occurred to him that in a hand-to-hand fight

Roseroar's swords and Mudge's bow would be more effec-

tive, and that, in any case, they had a sorcerer to deal with

now. So he put the ramwood aside and fumbled with the

duar. An old Moody Blues tune came to mind, suitable for

combating evil. He played and sang.

It had its intended effect. As the smoke began to

dissipate he could hear the ferret moan, see him staggering

backwards clutching at his head.

But Zancresta was not to be so simply vanquished.

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Gathering his strength, he glared at Jon-Tom and began to

recite:

"Nails of rails and coils of toil,

Come to me now, rise to a boil,

Become with strength my herpetological foil!"

The sorcerer's fingers stretched, elongated, became pow-

erful constrictors that writhed and curled toward Jon-Tom.

Whether it was out of fear for Folly or for himself or

sheer anger, he couldn't say, but now the music flowed

easily through him. Without missing a bar he segued straight

into a slithering song by Jefferson Airplane. The snakes

shriveled and shrank to become ferret fingers once more.

A second time Zancresta threw out his hands toward

Jon-Tom.

"Xyleum, phylum, cellulose constrained,

Hypoblastic hardwood rise up now unrestrained.

Chlorophyllic transformation make thyself known.

Long and strong and sharp and straight

And solid as a stone!"

The wooden stake that materialized to leap at Jon-Tom's

chest was the size of a small tree. A few branches erupted

from its trunk, and it continued to grow even as it flew

toward him, sending out roots and leaves. He barely had