where he landed.
They slunk out of Snarken on foot—tired, anxious, and
broke. Mudge grumbled every step of the way but ac-
knowledged his mistake (sort of) by assuming the lead. It
was also a matter of self-defense, since it kept him well
out of range of Jon-Tom’s boot.
Mudge also partly redeemed himself by returning from
one short disappearance with an armful of female clothing,
a bit of doubtful scavenging which Jon-Tom forced himself
to rationalize.
“Lifted it from a drunken serval,” the otter explained as
Folly delightedly traded her black nightdress for the frilly
if somewhat too-small attire. “The doxy I took it off won’t
miss it, and we’ve need of it.”
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
179
They moved steadily through the city’s outskirts. By the
time the sun rose over the horizon to illuminate the now
distant harbor, they were crossing the highest hill west-
ward. There they traded some goods from Jon-Tom’s pack
for breakfast at a small inn, as he wanted to try and
hold on to their three remaining gold pieces for an emer-
gency. Midday saw them far from the city, hiking between
rows of well-tended fruit trees.
Mudge was rubbing his belly. “Not bad for foreign
cookin’, mate.”
“No, but we’re going to have to eat lightly to conserve
what money we have left.”
“We could sell the girl’s favors.”
“Not a bad idea,” Jon-Tom said thoughtfully.
Mudge looked at him in surprise. “Wot’s that? You
agrees?”
“Sure, if it’s okay with her.” He called ahead. “Hey,
Roseroar! Mudge here has a suggestion about how you can
help us raise some cash.”