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

were in any condition to fly. Every one of them waddled

about with obvious difficulty, and the slimmest was a

candidate for the enchanted branch of Weight Watchers.

“You’re our prisoners,” she finished.

“I see,” said Mudge. “And wot if we decide not to be

your prisoners?”

“Then you’ll be dead,” she assured him unpleasantly.

. Mudge studied the array of glistening little weapons.

” ‘Ospitable folk, wot?”

“Watch ’em,” said Grelgen to her relations. She turned

and sauntered to the end of the branch, hopped off, and

landed with a wheeze in the grass below. There she entered

into a mumbling conversation with several other wand-

bearers. Most of them were clad only in rags and tatters.

Mudge would have to sit on someone of importance,

thought Jon-Tom angrily. The conference broke up mo-

ments later.

“This way,” said one of the other armed fairies, gestur-

ing upstream. Surrounded by miniuscule guards, they were

marched off up the creek.

“You sure you didn’t see her, Mudge?” Jon-Tom asked

the otter.

“Would I ‘ave been stupid enough to sit on ‘er if I ‘ad,

mate? Use your ‘ead. It were those bloody flowers.”

“You weren’t looking, then,” Jon-Tom said accusingly.

“So I weren’t lookin*. Should I ‘ave been lookin’?”

“No, I guess not. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“Pity I didn’t flatten ‘er,” the otter murmured, careful

to keep his voice down.

“It might not have mattered, sir,” Jalwar murmured.

“The fairy folk are known for their resilience.”

“I can see that,” said Mudge, studying their obese

escort. “The one with the mouth looks like she could