“You too, Roseroar?” Jon-Tom said in surprise.
“Me too what? What the ottah says makes sense. Ain’t
no secret ah’ve little love fo the cub, but ah’d sleep easier
knowin’ she’s been properly cared fo.”
“If you both feel that way, then we need to talk with her
before we go.” Jon-Tom started back for the entrance.
Mudge held him by an arm.
“Slow there, spellsinger. Ol’ Chokas were friendly enough
because we didn’t ask no awkward questions or try to poke
into places ‘e didn’t want us to see. If ‘e’d wanted us to
meet any o’ ‘is kids ‘e’d ‘ave brought ’em down to us. I
don’t think Vll be likely to accede to our little request.”
“He has a good reason. They’re likely to all be asleep.
It’s late.”
“All of ’em?” wondered Mudge. “I doubt it. Wot about
those offspring of the night-lifers? The gophers and the
moles?”
“Maybe they have separate quarters so they can be
active at night without disturbing the others,” Jon-Tom
suggested. “If they’re nocturnal, they wouldn’t need lights
in their rooms.”
“There’d still be some hint o’ activity. Remember,
mate, we’re talkin’ about a bunch o’ young cubs.”
Jon-Tom chewed his lower lip. “It was awfully quiet in
there, wasn’t it?”
“Like a tomb, mate. Tell you wot. Why don’t you
16O
Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OP THE DISSONANCE
161
spellsing the lot o’ them to sleep the way you did that
bunch on the pirate ship?”
“Wouldn’t work. On the ship, everyone was within
range of the duar and of my voice. Too many walls here.”
Mudge nodded. “Right then. My turn to perform a little
magic.”
“You?”
The otter grinned, his whiskers twitching. “You ain’t