it back. I've decided I don't want.. ."
"Look out, mate!" Mudge yelled. The otter threw
himself forward, hit Zancresta just in time to make the
subtle knife thrust the ferret had been aiming at Jon-Tom
beneath Charrok's wing miss. The two went rolling over
together on the floor.
"Hold him, sun!" Roseroar thundered as she advanced,
ready to remove Zancresta's head from his neck as easily
as she would a stopper from a bottle.
But the ferret was scrambling to his feet, leaving a
bleeding Mudge lying on the floor. Displaying incredible
agility, the sorcerer dodged under Roseroar's wild rush and
started climbing up the nearest shelf. Boxes and cartons
came flying down at the tigress, who batted the missiles
aside impatiently as she tried to locate her quarry. Then
she was climbing after him, slowly but relentlessly.
Jon-Tom was bending over Mudge, whose paws were
clasped over the knife wound. The otter's eyes were
half-closed as he stared up at his companion.
"This is it, guv'nor. I'm on me way out. I'm dyin'. I
knew it would come someday, but 1 never thought it'd be
like this, wot? Not in some bloody store 'alfway across the
276
Alan Dean Foster
world. I was meant to die in bed, I was." The limpid
brown eyes were full of sadness and regret. "We 'ad some
good times, though. A few laughs 'ere, narrow escape
there. Cor, 'twere much to be sung of." The eyes closed,
reopened weakly.
"Sorry it 'ad to end like this, mate. If you 'ave a song
left in you to sing you might sing one for old Mudge. Sing
me a song o' gold, spellsinger. If I can't die in bed maybe
I can die under a pile o' gold. Bury me in the damn stuff
and I'll slip away 'appily."
Jon-Tom knelt alongside the limp otter, holding his head
up with one hand. "Mudge," he said quietly, "that knife
didn't go in more than half an inch, and you're not
bleeding that bad. If you want to get gold out of me you're
going to have to do better than that."
The otter fixed him with pleading eyes. "Gold? Why, I
wouldn't try to trick you into conjurin' up me some gold at
a time like this, mate. Would I?" Jon-Tom didn't reply.
Mudge moved his hands, and his eyes went wide with
surprise. "Crikey, would you 'ave a look at this! It's
'ealin' right over, it 'tis! Thanks be to your magic, mate.
I'll never forget this, guv, never!"
"I'll bet you won't," said the disgusted Jon-Tom. He
stood, and Mudge's head bounced off the floor.
"Ow! Damnit, you bloody smart-arsed, know-it-all,
over-sized, shallow-voiced son of a... !"
Jon-Tom didn't hear the rest. He'd turned to look down
the aisle. It was full of smoke from conjured lightning and
dust fallen from the ceiling. There was no sign of Zancresta
or the vengeful Roseroar. The fight had moved to another
aisle, another row of shelving. Snooth had also vanished,
which was understandable. The proprietress had retreated
to a place of safety to await the outcome of the fight,
exactly as Jon-Tom would have done had their positions
been reversed.
"Get up, Mudge," Jon-Tom said impatiently. "We've
got to help Roseroar."
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
277
The otter rose, still holding a paw over the light wound.
"That she-massif doesn't need any 'elp, mate. I'll 'elp you
look for 'er, but odds'll get you she finds that bastard
Zancresta first." He winced, inspected his knife cut.
"Ruined a good vest, 'e did."
"Wait." Jon-Tom squinted into the haze that filled the
aisle. "I think she's coming."
But it wasn't Roseroar. It moved on four legs and its
golden coat glowed even in the weak light. Clinging to the
broad back was the naked form of a young woman toasted
pink as a boiled lobster.
Drom trotted to a halt beside them. He was foaming at
the mouth and soaked with lather.
"Hot," he told them unnecessarily. "Excruciatingly
hot." Folly slid off the unicorn's back into Jon-Tom's
arms, barely conscious. "She was walking blindly toward
an open lava pit. I got there just in time."
"Jon-Tom." He held her carefully, acutely conscious of
the first-degree burn that covered her whole body. "I.. .1
didn't know what was happening, what I was doing.
Jalwar... he made me feel so strange. I couldn't think my
own thoughts anymore." She leaned against him.
"That morning when he woke me and made me follow
him out of our camp, I wanted to cry out, to warn you, but
I couldn't. He made me go with him, and he made me fetch
and cook and carry for him, but it wasn't me, it wasn't
me! It was like I was a prisoner in my own body and I
couldn't get out." She was sobbing now, the tears wet
against his chest. She leaned back and looked up at him in
astonishment.
"I'm crying. I didn't think I could cry anymore."
"You were hypnotized," Jon-Tom told her. When she
continued staring at him in puzzlement he explained fur-
ther. "A kind of magic. You couldn't help yourself." He
hugged her to him and when she moaned in pain he was
quick to release her. "We'll have to do something about
your burn. Maybe Snooth has something. We can buy
278
Alan Dean Poster
medicine for you, too. I still have the three gold pieces
that Mudge didn't lose in Snarken."
"It's all right," she whispered. "I'm all right now."
She turned to Drom. "I wouldn't have been if he hadn't
shown up. I didn't know what to think when he came
galloping down the corridor after me. Then he told me
who he was and that he was a friend of yours and you
were all here inside the mountain with him. That you were
fighting Jalwar-Zancresta." She ran to the unicorn and,
putting her arms around his neck, hugged him gratefully.
Drom tolerated the attention briefly before stepping back
and pulling free. "I am glad to have been of assistance,
madame, but leave us not get carried away with our
emotions."
"But I thought..." Folly looked hurt and Jon-Tom
hastened to reassure her.
"Drom's not being unfriendly, Folly. He's just being
himself. I'll explain later." He looked at the unicorn. "It
was a fine bit of rescue work, Drom."
"1 try." The unicorn searched the aisle. "Where is the
evil one? And the great feline? Did you defeat him during
my absence?"
"No." Jon-Tom smiled at the mockingbird. "This is
Charrok. When Zancresta discovered that he couldn't de-
feat me with his own magic, he tried to do it with another
spellsinger. Charrok and I conjured up quite a musical
storm before we came to the conclusion that harmony is
better than dissonance. As for Roseroar, she's gone after
Zancresta."
"I should pity the ferret, then."
"That's the truth, mate," said Mudge. "That's some
broad. If she were only a fourth 'er size."
"You have to learn to think big, Mudge." Jon-Tom
became serious. "Zancresta's as fast on his feet as he is
with his mind. He might give her the slip in here."
" 'E can't get out, though, mate," Mudge commented.
"Unless there's another way in, and I'd bet me tool there's
THE DAT OP THE DISSONANCE
279
only the one. I'd say the best we can do now is find that
oversized she-rat who runs the place. She 'ad the medicine
when the fight started, and I'd wager she's kept it with
'er."
It was a long hike back to the entryway, and Jon-Tom's
appraisal of the ferret as being fleet of foot turned out to be
accurate, for when they turned up the last aisle Zancresta
was already there.