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

nuchs to guard his palace. I haven’t decided what to do

with any of you yet, but one more lie like that and you’ll

find yourself a candidate for the knife o’ the ship’s

doctor.”

Jon-Tom tried to pick a likely candidate for ship’s

physician out of the surrounding collection of cutthroats

and failed, though he imagined that whoever that worthy

might be, he hadn’t taken his internship at the Mayo

Clinic.

Mudge held his peace, along with everything else. The

blue eye fastened on Jon-Tom. “Perhaps you be smarter

than your sour-whiskered companion. Where be you bound,

man?”

“Snarken,” Jon-Tom replied without hesitation.

Corroboc nodded- “Now, that makes sense, A sensible

THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE

113

one. You be a strange specimen, tall man. Be you from the

region o’ the Bellwoods?”

“I am.” He had to risk the falsehood. It was true

enough now, anyway.

The parrot blew his nose on the deck, sniffed. “Fortunately

for you I am in a good humor this morning.” Jon-Tom

decided he did not want to encounter him when he was in

a bad mood. “You two”—he indicated Mudge and Jalwar—

“can start cleaning out the bilges. That’s a job long

overdue and one I am certain you’ll find to your liking.

Won’t you?’*

Uncertain whether to say yes sir, no sir, or nothing at

all, Jalwar stood and shook in terror. Mudge wasn’t up to

commenting. Corroboc was apparently satisfied, because

he nodded absently before moving down to stare fearlessly

up at the towering Roseroar.

“As for you, I’d be pleased to make you one of my

crew. Tis plain enough to see you’re no stranger to a life