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

“Let’s not kill each other over it. It were just a thought.”

“Okay. But let’s not have any more idiotic talk about

selling Folly or anyone else.”

The object of this exhausted discussion gazed curiously

up at her rescuer. “Why don’t you sell me? I’m nothing to

you. I’m nothing to anyone except myself. Don’t think I’m

being ungrateful. I wouldn’t have lived another month on

that ship. I want to help you. I can’t think of any other

way to repay you for your kindnesses.” She threw a

warning glance the otter’s way. Wisely, Mudge said nothing.

“All I have, though, is myself. If you need money so

badly, selling me should solve your problem. I’m worth

something.” She turned away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Even after the way I’ve been used.”

He tried hard not to be angry with her. “Where I come

from, Folly, we don’t sell people.”

“You don’t?” She looked genuinely puzzled. “Then

what do you do with people who have nothing else to

do?”

“We put ’em on welfare, social security.”

She shook her head. “Those words mean nothing to

me.”

He tried to explain. “We see to it that everyone is

guaranteed some sort of minimum income, some kind of

sustenance.”

“Even if they’re no good at anything?”

“Even if they’re no good at anything.”

“That doesn’t seem very efficient.”

“Maybe it’s not efficient, but it’s human.”

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Alan Dean Foster

“Brock’s blocks, now there you ‘ave it, luv. That

explains it all. Sounds like the sort o’ bizarre scheme a

bunch o’ ‘umans would dream up.”

“Nobody gets sold,” Jon-Tom announced with finality.

“Right then, mate. Wot do you propose we do for

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