drawn wagons piled high with goods clanked and rumbled
all around them. Strange accents and aromas filled the air.
“That bit o’ business do bring one problem to mind,
mate.”
“What’s that, Mudge?”
“Wot are we goin’ to do for money? We can’t keep
tradin’ away ship’s tools.”
Jon-Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Right you are.
We’re going to have to buy supplies for the trek to
Cranculam, too. We’re going to need a lot.”
“I’ll say!” said Folly impatiently. “I need some real
clothes. I can’t walk around in this silly otherworldly stuff.
People will laugh at me. Besides”—she ran her hands over
the too-tight seat of her jeans—”it binds me most strangely.”
Mudge stepped toward her. ” ‘Ere now, luv, let me ‘ave
a looksee. Might be we could loosen this ‘ere….”
She jumped away from his outstretched fingers. “Keep
your hands to yourself, water rat, or you’re liable to lose
them.”
Mudge pursed his lips hurtfully, turned to Jon-Tom.
“Now, ‘ere’s an idea, mate. Why don’t we sell ‘er? That
were probably the best idea that ever occurred to that
rancid bag o’ feathers Corroboc. Now that she’s cleaned
THE DAY OF THK DISSONANCE
141
up ‘alfway decent, she’d likely bring a nice bit o’ change.
It would solve two of our problems at once, wot?”
Despite his speed, the otter barely succeeded in ducking
under Jon-Tom’s swing. The chase shifted to a cluster of
big wooden barrels, but Jon-Tom was unable to run the
tireless otter down. He wore him out pretty good, though.
“Take it easy, mate.” Both man and otter fought to
catch their breath. Mudge looked out from behind a barrel.