Spellsinger 03 – The Day of the Dissonance by Foster, Alan Dean

cabin and tried to squint into the fog. Neither his eyesight

nor his brain was functioning at optimum efficiency at the

moment.

A second boat materialized out of the mist. It was a low-

slung outboard with a pearlescent fiberglass body. Three …

no, four people lounged in the vinyl seats. Two couples in

their twenties, all human, all normal size.

“What’s happenin’, John B.I” asked the young man

standing behind the wheel. He didn’t look too steady on

his feet himself. A cooler sat between the front seats, full

of ice and aluminum cans. The cans had names like Coors

and Lone Star on them.

Jon-Tom swayed. He was hallucinating, the next logical

step in his mental disintegration. He leaned over the rail

and tried to focus his remaining consciousness on the funny

cigarette the couple in the front of the boat were passing

back and forth.The other pair were exchanging hits on a

glass pipe.

The big outboard was idling noisily. One girl leaned

over the side to clean her Foster Grants in the ocean. Next

to the beer cooler was a picnic basket. A big open bag of

pretzels sat on top. The twisted, skinny kind that tasted

like pure fried salt. Next to the bag was a two-pound tin of

Planter’s Redskin Peanuts, and several brightly colored

tropical fruits.

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Alan Dean Poster

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

99

He tried to will himself sober. If anything could have

cleared his mind, it should have been the sight of the boat

and its occupants. But the uncontrollable power of his own

spellsinging held true. Despite everything he tried, the