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

had the sloop John B. been going?

The stockbroker from Manhattan pointed to his right.

“Just out for the afternoon from the Nassau Club Med.

You know, man. The Bahamas? You lost out of Miami or

what?” He jiggled the chain of polyethelene beads that

hung from his neck.

“Wanna come back in with us?”

“It can’t be,” Jon-Tom whispered dazedly. “It can’t be

this easy.” The song he’d repeated over and over, what

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Alan Dean Foster

was the phrasing? ‘ ‘Around Nassau Town we did roam… I

wanna go home, I wanna go home… this is the worst

trip, I’ve ever been on.”

“7 wanna go home,” Jon-Tom sang in his mind. “Around

Nassau Town. Yes… yes, we’ll follow you back! We’ll

follow you back.” He clung to the rail for dear life, his

eyes locked on the big Evenrude rumbling at the stern of

the ski boat.

“You coming over here or you just going to follow us

in?”

“We’ll follow you,” Jon-Tom mumbled. “We’ll fol-

low.” He turned to the helm. “Roseroar, put on all

sail… no, wait.” It was still windless. “The engine. I’ll

get that engine started and we’ll follow them in!” He took

a wild step toward the hatchway, felt himself going back-

ward over the rail, tumbling toward a waiting pane of glass

that wasn’t there.

An immense paw had hold of him, was pulling him

back on deck. “Watch yourself, sugah,” Roseroar told

him quietly. She’d cleared the distance to him from her

position at the wheel in one leap.

Now she stared across the water. “Who are these

strange folk? Ah declare, ah can’t make top no bottom of

their words.”

“Tell them,” Jon-Tom moaned weakly toward the ski