was making protective signs over his face and chest while
cowering close to Mudge for protection, while the otter
waited nervously for the unexpected to manifest itself.
Despite her own awe at what was taking place on the
beach, Roseroar stood her ground.
Mudge was worrying needlessly. For once, for the very
first time, it looked like Jon-Tom's efforts were to be
rewarded with success. For once it appeared that his
spellsong was going to produce only what he wanted. The
otter moved hesitantly out from behind the shelter of the
boulder, while simultaneously holding himself ready to
rush for the trees at the first hint of trouble.
"Bugger me for a blue-eyed bandicoot," he muttered
excitedly. "The lad's gone an' done it!"
Rocking gently in the waves just beyond the breaking
surf was a single-masted sloop. The stern faced shoreward
and on the name-plate everyone could clearly make out the
words JOHN B.
Jon-Tom let the last words of the song trail away. With it
went the Gneechees and the cloud of blue fog from which
the boat had emerged. It bobbed gently at anchor, awaiting
mem.
Roseroar put a proud paw on Jon-Tom's shoulder. "Sugah,
bless man soul if it isn't a spellsingah yo are. That's a
fine-looking ship, for all that her lines are strange to me,
and ah've sailed many a craft."
Jon-Tom continued to pluck fitfully at the duar as if
fearful that the sloop, solid as she looked, might disappear
at any moment in a rush of fog.
"Glad you think so. Me, I've never been on anything
il bigger than a surfboard in my life."
13 "Not to worry. Ah don't recognize the mannah of ship,
but if she sails, ah can handle her."
"So can I." Jalwar appeared behind them, "hi my
youth I spent much time sailing many kinds of ships."
"See?" said Mudge, joining them on the beach. "The
old fur's provin' 'imself valuable already."
"Okay." Jon-Tom nodded reluctantly. "Let's see what
:^ she's like on board."
13 Mudge led them out to the boat, as at home in the water
]1 as he was on land. The others followed. By the time
•\ Jon-Tom reached the bottom of the boarding ladder, the
-'?. otter had completed a preliminary inspection.
^ "She's fully stocked, she is, though the packin's bloody
jl strange."
iJ "Let me have a look." Jon-Tom went first to the galley.
| Cans and packages bore familiar labels like Hormel,
~i Armor, Oscar Mayer, and Hebrew National. There was
,| more than enough food for an extensive journey, and they
! could fish on the way. The tank for the propane stove read
full. Jon-Tom tried a burner, was rewarded with a blast of
blue flame that caused Roseroar to pull back.
"Ah don't see no source of fire."
"The ship arrives already fully spelled for traveling,"
Jalwar murmured appreciatively. "Impressive."
"hi the song she's supposed to be on a long voyage,"
Jon-Tom explained.
90
Alan Dean Foster
There was a diesel engine meant to supplement the sails.
Jon-Tom didn't try it. Let it wait until they were becalmed.
Then he could dazzle them with new magic.
"Roseroar, since you're the most experienced sailor
among us, why don't you be captain?"
"As you wish, Jon-Tom." She squeezed through the
hatchway back onto the deck and began familiarizing
herself with the unusual but not unfathomable rigging. As
with any modern sailing ship, the sloop would almost run
the sails up and down the masts all by itself. It didn't take
the tigress long to figure it out.
An electric winch made short work of the anchor.
Roseroar spun the wheel, the sloop hove around with a
warm breeze filling its sails, and they headed out to sea.
Within an hour they had left the gravel beach and the
Muddletup Moors with its confused fungoid inhabitants far
behind.
"Which way to Snarken?" she asked as she worked the
wheel and a hand winch simultaneously. The mainsail
billowed in the freshening wind.
"I don't know. You're the sailor."
"Sailor ah confess to, but ah'm no navigator, man."
"Southwest," Mudge told her. "For now that's good
enough."
Roseroar adjusted their heading, brought it in line with
the directions supplied by the compass. "Southwest it is."
The sloop changed directions smoothly, responding instantly
to the tigress's light touch on the wheel.
Feeling reasonably confident that at last all was right
with the world, Jon-Tom reprised the song and for good
measure added a chorus of the Beach Boys' "Sail On, Sail
On, Sailor." The sun was warm, the wind steady, and
Snarken seemed just over the near horizon.
Putting up the duar, he escorted Jalwar down to the
galley, there to explain the intricacies of the propane stove
and such otherworldly esoterica as Saran Wrap and can
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
91
openers to their designated chef. That and the rest of a fine
day well done, he allowed himself to be first to bed.
To be awakened by rough hands shaking him violently.
"Get up, get up, spellsinger!"
Feeling very strange, Jon-Tom rolled over, to find him-
self staring into the worried face of the ferret.
"What... whash wrong?" He was startled by the sound
of his own voice, unnaturally thick and slurred. And the
boat seemed to be rolling in circles.
"We are in bad trouble, spellsinger. Bad trouble."
Jalwar disappeared.
Jon-Tom sat up. It took three tries. Then he tried to get
out of the bunk and discovered he couldn't tell the floor
from the ceiling. The floor found him.
"Wot was that?" said a distant voice.
He struggled to get up. "I don't..." He reached for the
railing of the lower bunk and tried to pull himself upright.
"Wheresh the... ?" Somehow he managed to drag him-
self to a standing position. He stood there on shaky knees
that felt determined to go their own way, exclusive of any
contrariwise instructions from his brain.
"Whash wrong with me?" he moaned.
Two faces appeared in the doorway, one above the other.
Both were blurred.
"Shee-it," said Roseroar. "He's drunk! Ah didn't see
him get into any liquor."
"Nor did I," said Mudge, trying to push past her.
"Give me room, you bloody great amazon!" He put his
hands on Jon-Tom's shoulders and gripped hard. Jon-Tom
staggered backward.
"Blister me for a brown vole if you're not. Where'd you
find the hootch, guv'nor?"
"What hoosh?" Jon-Tom replied thickly. "I didn't..."
The floor almost went out from under him. "Say, whoosh
driving thish bush?"
A disgusted Mudge stepped back. "Can't abide anyone
who can't 'old 'is booze."
92
Alan Dean Foster
"Leave him fo now," said Roseroar. "We'll have to
handle this ourselves." They turned to leave.
"Hey, wait!" Jon-Tom yelled. He took a step forward,
and the boat, sly and tricky craft that it was, deliberately
yanked the floor out from under him. He slammed into the
door, hung on for dear life.
Mudge was right, he realized through the glassy haze
that had formed over his eyeballs. I am drunk. Try as he
might, he couldn't remember imbibing anything stronger
than orange juice at supper. After reprising a couple of
choruses of "Sloop John #." to make sure the boat didn't
dematerialize out from beneath them in the middle of the
night, he'd gone to bed. Jalwar was awake and alert.