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

something with twelve hands and the snore of a sleeping

brontosaurus. Only one man had ever made sounds quite

like that before, and Jon-Tom strained hands and lips to

reproduce them.

"If you can just get your mind together," he crooned to

the djinn, "and come over to me, we'll watch the sunrise

together, from the bottom of the sea."

The words and sounds made no sense to Roseroar, but

she could sense they were special. Bits and pieces of

broken light began to illuminate the chamber around her.

Gneechees, harbingers of magic, had appeared and were

swarming around Jon-Tom in all their unseeable beauty.

It was a sign the song was working, and it inspired

Jon-Tom to sing harder still. Harun al-Roojinn leaned

forward as if to protest, to question, and hesitated. Behind

the fiery yellow eyes was a first flicker of uncertainty.

Jon-Tom sang on.

"First, have you ever been experienced? Have you ever

been experienced?" The djinn drifted back on nonexistent

heels. His great burning eyes began to glaze over slightly,

as if someone were drawing wax paper across them.

"Well, I have," Jon-Tom murmured. The notes bounced

off the walls, rang off the ears of the djinn, who seemed to

have acquired a pleasant indifference to those around him.

Jon-Tom's own expression began to drift as he contin-

ued to sing, remembering the words, remembering the

chords. A brief eternity passed. It was Mudge who reached

up to break the trance.

"That's it, mate," he whispered. He shook Jon-Tom

hard. "C'mon, guv, snap out o' it." Jon-Tom continued to

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play on, a beatific expression on his face. The djinn

hovered before him like some vast rusty blimp, hands

folded over his chest, great claws interlocked, whispering.

"BEAUTIFUL ... Beautiful... beautiful..."

"Come on, mate!" The otter turned to Roseroar, who

was swaying slowly in time to the music, her eyes blank.

A thin trickle of drool fell from her mouth. Mudge tried to

kick her in the rump, but his foot wouldn't reach that high.

So he settled for slapping Folly.

"What... what's happening?" She blinked. "Stop hit-

ting me." She focused on the drifting djinn. "What's

happened to him? He looks so strange."

" 'E ain't the only one," Mudge snapped. " 'Elp me

wake the rest of 'em up."

They managed to revive Drom and Charrok and Roseroar,

but Jon-Tom stubbornly refused to return to reality. He was

as locked into the deceptively langorous state of mind he'd

conjured up as was the target of his song.

"Wake «/>!" Roseroar demanded as she shook him. He

turned to her, still playing, and smiled broadly.

"Wake up? But why? Everything's so beautiful." He

looked half through her. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful

you are?"

Roseroar was taken aback by that one, but only for a

moment. "Tell me later, sun." She threw him over her left

shoulder and started for the door, keeping a wary eye on

the stoned djinn.

"Just a second." Drom paused at the portal and snatched

the container of medicine from Snooth's fingers.

"Hey, what about my payment, sonny?"

"You've already been paid, madame." The unicorn

used his horn to point at Harun al-Roojinn."Collect from

him." Drom trotted out, through the storeroom of broken

devices, through the living area, and out the front door to

join his friends.

Snooth watched him go, hands on hips, her expression

grim.

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287

"Tourists! I shouid've known they'd be more trouble

than they're worth." She stomped out onto the porch and

watched until they'd vanished into the woods. Then she

reached inside, found the sign she wanted, hung it on the

door, and slammed it shut. The message on the sign was

clear enough.

OUT TO LUNCH

BACK IN TEN THOUSAND YEARS

Jon-Tom bounced along on Roseroar's powerful shoul-

der. Mudge kept pace easily alongside, Folly rode atop the

reluctant but soft-hearted Drom, and Charrok scouted their

progress from above.

As the Shop of the Aether and Neither receded behind

them, Jon-Tom gradually began to emerge from the

mental miasma into which he'd plunged both himself

and Harun al-Roojinn. Fingers moved less steadily over

the duar's strings, and his voice fell to a whisper. He

blinked.

" 'E's comin' round," Mudge observed.

"It's about time," said Folly. "What did he do to

himself?"

"Some wondrous magic," muttered Drom. "Some pow-

erful otherworldly conjuration."

Mudge snorted and grinned. "Right, mate. What 'e did

to the monster was waste 'im. Unfortunately, 'e did 'imself

right proud in the process."

Jon-Tom's hand went to his head. "Ooooo." Shifting

outlines resolved themselves into, the running figure of

Mudge.

" 'Angover, mate?"

"No. No, I feel okay." He looked up suddenly, back

toward the smoking mountain. "Al-Roojinn?"

"Zonked, skunked, blown-away. A fine a piece o'

spellsingin' as was ever done, mate."

"It was the song," Jon-Tom murmured dazedly. "A

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good song. A special song. Jimi's best. If anything could

dazzle a djinn, I knew it would be that. You can put me

down now, Roseroar." The tigress set him down gently.

"Come on, mate. We'd best keep movin' fast before

your spellsong wears off."

"It's all right, I think." He looked back through the

forest toward the mountain. "It's not a restraining song.

It's a happy song, a relaxing song. Al-Roojinn didn't seem

either happy or relaxed. Maybe he's happy now."

They followed the winding trail back toward Crancularn

and discovered a ghost town populated by slow-moving,

nebulous inhabitants who smiled wickedly at them, grin-

ning wraiths that floated in and out of reality. "It's there

but some don't see it," Drom had said. Now Jon-Tom

understood the unicorn's meaning. The real Crancularn

was as insubstantial as smoke, as solid as a dream.

They forced themselves not to run as they left the town

behind, heading for the familiar woods and the long walk

back to far-distant Lynchbany. Somewhere off to the right

came the grind of the ATC, but this time the helpful

rabbit, be he real or wraith, did not put in an appearance.

Once Jon-Tom glanced back to reassure himself that he'd

actually been in Crancularn, but instead of a crumbling old

town, he thought he saw a vast bubbling cauldron alive

with dancing, laughing demons. He shuddered and didn't

look back again.

By evening they were all too exhausted to care if

Al-Roojinn and a dozen vengeful cousins were hot on then-

trail or not. Mudge and Roseroar built a fire while the

others collapsed.

"1 think we're safe now," Jon-Tom told them. He ran

both hands through his long hair, suddenly sat up sharply.

"The medicine! What about the—!"

"Easy, mate." Mudge extracted the container from a

pocket. " 'Ere she be, nice and tidy."

Jon-Tom examined the bottle. It was such a small thing

on which to have expended so much effort, barely an inch

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289

high and half again as wide. It was fashioned of plain

white plastic with a screw-on cap of unfamiliar design.

"I wonder what it is." He started to unscrew the top.

"Just a minim, mate," said Mudge sharply, nodding at

the container. "Do you think that's wise? I know you're a

spellsinger and all that, but maybe there's a special reason