"Ah just missed him in a side aisle," Roseroar rumbled
angrily, having rejoined them only moments earlier. "He
won't get away this time."
Zancresta's clothes were shredded, and he looked very
unwizardly as he stood panting heavily before the exit.
A glance down the side aisle showed his tormentors
approaching rapidly. There was nothing, however, to pre-
vent his escaping to plot against them from the outside.
Nothing except an old female kangaroo.
"Get out of my way, hag! My time is precious and I
have none to waste in argument."
"I'm not here to argue with you." Snooth spoke calmly,
the pipe dangling from her lips. Her right hand was
extended, palm upward. "You owe me payment."
"Payment? Payment for what?" Zancresta snarled impa-
tiently. His enemies were hurrying now, the ferocious
tigress in the lead. He did not have much time.
"For damage done to stock and fixtures."
"I was trying to escape from that insane female who
even now approaches. You can't hold me responsible for
that."
"I hold you responsible for everything," she replied
darkly. "You initiated conflict. You interrupted a sale. I
forgive you all that, but you must pay for the damage
you've caused. I'm not running a philanthropic organiza-
tion here. This is a business." She gestured with the palm.
"Pay up."
"Fool! I said I've no time to argue with you. This little
store you have here is a very clever piece of work, I'll
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Alan Dean Foster
admit that. But I am Zancresta of Malderpot and I am not
impressed. I give you one chance to get out of my way."
Snooth did not move. The wizard's paw dipped into an
intact pocket and he flung something small and round at
her as the kangaroo's hands went to her belly. There was a
crump\ as the small round thing exploded, filling the
portal with angry red smoke. Jon-Tom had tried to shout
a warning. It came too late.
"Now I will leave over you, hag!"
But there was something else in the doorway now,
something besides the uninjured and glowering Snooth. It
rose from her pouch, the pouch where Jon-Tom thought he
had detected hints of movement before. It rose and grew
and it was immediately clear it was no joey, no infant
kangaroo. It was far larger, and it expanded as Jon-Tom
and his companions slowed to a halt.
Zancresta backed slowiy away from the apparition. It
enlarged until it reached the roof forty feet overhead, and
still it grew, until it could only fit in the cavern by bending
low against the rock ceiling.
It had the shape of a red kangaroo, but its face was not
the face of a gentle vegetarian like Snooth. The ears were
immense, sharply pointed, and hung with thick gold rings.
The long snout was full of scimitarlike teeth, and sulfurous
eyes centered on tiny black pupils glared downward. Gray
smoke encircled and obscured the behemoth's waist, rising
lazily from Snooth's pouch. Gorillalike arms hung to the
floor, where backturned knuckles rested on the smooth
stone.
A bright crimson band encircled the huge forehead. It
was inscribed with glowing symbols drawn from an an-
cient place and time. A thin silken vest flapped in an unfelt
wind against the mountainous chest.
And there was the voice. Not gentle and matronly like
Snooth's, but awesome in its depth and richness. The
apparition spoke, and the earth trembled.
"BEHOLD, ODIOUS IMP, TOILER IN OBSCURITY, MED-
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
281
DLER IN INEFFECTUALITY: I AM HARUN AL-ROOJINN,
MASTER OF ALL THE SPIRITS OF TIME PAST AND TIME
FUTURE WHERE MARSUPIALS RULE AND ALL OTHERS ARE
BUT TINY SCURRYING THINGS THAT HIDE IN ROCKS AND
FEED ON WORMS! BEHOLD, AND BE AFRAID!" A hand big
enough to sail the Glittergeist if fitted out with sails and
rigging reached for Zancresta.
The sorcerer cowered back against the shelving. His
expression was desperate as he sought refuge and found
none. He dropped to his knees and begged.
"Forgive me, forgive me, I did not know!"
"IGNORANCE is THE EXCUSE OF THE CONTEMPTUOUS,"
bellowed the djinn. "ABUSERS OF KNOWLEDGE RARELY
SEEK ENLIGHTENMENT FROM OTHERS. THOSE WHO TRAM-
PLE CONVENTION DESERVE NO PITY. THOSE WHO DO NOT
PAY WHAT THEY OWE DESERVE TO PERISH."
"I'm sorry!" Zancresta screamed, utterly frantic now.
"I was blinded by anger."
"YOU WERE BLINDED BY EGO, WHICH IS FAR WORSE."
"It is a terrible thing to feel inferior to another. I can't
stand it. I was overcome with the need to redeem myself,
to restore my standing as the greatest practitioner of the
mystic arts. All I have done was only for love of my
profession." He prostrated himself, arms extended. "I
throw myself on your mercy."
"YOU LOVE ONLY YOURSELF, WORM. MERCY? YOU
WOULD HAVE SLAIN MY MORTAL TO SAVE A FEW COINS,
TO SHOW YOUR DOMINANCE. MERCY? YEA, I WILL GRANT
YOU MERCY." The ferret's head lifted, and there was a
hopeful look on his tormented face.
"THIS is MY MERCY: THAT YOU SHALL DIE QUICKLY
INSTEAD OF SLOWLY!"
Zancresta shrieked and dodged to his left, but he wasn't
fast enough to escape that immense descending hand. The
fingers contracted once, and the shriek was not repeated.
There was only a quick echo of bones crunching. Jon-Tom
and his companions stared numbly.
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Alan Dean Foster
The hand opened and dropped the jellied smear that had
been Jalwar-Zancresta, Wizard of Malderpot.
"I ASK YOU," the djinn muttered in slightly less deafen-
ing tones, "YOU TRY TO RUN A LITTLE BUSINESS DOWN
THROUGH THE AGES AND YOU FIND ETERNITY FULL OF
WELCHERS. SPEAKING OF WHICH"—the massive toothy
skull and burning yellow eyes lifted to regard Jon-Tom—
"THERE is MORE YET TO DO."
"Hey, wait a minute," said Jon-Tom, starting to back
away, "we're ready to pay for what we want. We didn't
come here to stiff anybody." He glanced toward Snooth,
who only shrugged helplessly. Apparently now that the
djinn had been called, she was powerless to control it.
"PAY FOR YOUR GOODS YOU MAY, BUT NOW I HAVE
BEEN CALLED FORTH, AND I MUST ALSO BE PAID. HOW
WILL YOU DO THAT, PALE WORM? I HAVE NO NEED OF
YOUR MONEY. PERHAPS YOU WILL SING ME A SONG SO
THAT I MAY LET YOU LEAVE?" Volcanic laughter filled the
Shop of the Aether and Neither.
Jon-Tom felt a hand pushing at him. "Well come on,
then, mate," Mudge whispered urgently, "go to it. I'm
right 'ere behind you if you need me 'elp."
"You're such a comfort." Still, the otter was right. It
was up to him to somehow placate this djinn and get them
out of there. But he was exhausted from his duel with
Charrok and Zancresta, and worn out from thinking up
song after song. He was also more than a little irritated.
Not the most sensible attitude to take, perhaps, but he was
too tired to care.
"You listen to me, Hargood ali rooge."
The djinn glowered. "I DON'T LIKE MORTALS WHO GET
MY NAME WRONG."
"Okay, I can go with that," Jon-Tom replied, "but
you'll have to excuse me. I've had a helluva couple of
weeks. We came here to get some medicine for a sick
friend. If that old fart hadn't intruded," and he gestured at
the smear on the floor, "we'd be out of here and on our
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
283
way by now. We didn't have a damn thing to do with his
actions."
"TRULY YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN ON YOUR WAY, BUT
WHICH WAY IS RIGHT AND PROPER FOR YOU TO GO,