She turned to face him. “Of course I can fly, dumbutt.”
She wiggled her diaphanous wings. “What do you think
these are for? Air-conditioning?”
“All right, then let’s see you fly. Come on, fly.”
“Feh! You’d think I didn’t have anything better to do
than put on a show for a bunch of pituitary freaks.”
“You can’t fly!” Jon-Tom said triumphantly. “That’s
your big problem. You’ve gotten so…”
“Watch it, jack,” she said wamingly.
“… so healthy that you can’t lift off anymore. I wouldn’t
think it would make a difference. A bumblebee’s too heavy
for flight, but it manages, and without enchantment.”
“I’m a fairy, one of the enchanted folk,” Grelgen
informed him, speaking as one would to an idiot child.
“Not a bumblebee. There are structural, aerodynamic, and
metabolic differences you wouldn’t understand. As for
problems, you’re the ones who are stuck with the biggie.”
THE DAT OF THK DISSONANCE
187
She stabbed the wand at Mudge. “That turkey tried to
assassinate me!”
Mudge gaped in surprise. “Wot, me? I did nothin* o’
the kind, your shortness.”
“You sat on me, rat-breath.”
“Like ‘ell I did! You crawled underneath me. Anyways,
‘ow was I supposed to see you or anything else under all
them flowers?”
Grelgen crossed her arm. “I was sitting there minding
my own business, having a little afternoon snack of nectar
and pollen, and you deliberately dropped your rat-butt
right on top of me.”
“You expect me to inspect every patch o’ ground I sit
down on?”
“In our lands, yes.”
“We didn’t know it were your lands.” Mudge was fast