190
Alan Dean Poster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
191
The six-inch high wall ended at both ends against a sheer
cliff of gray granite.
The four captives filled this arena. Once they were
inside the insignificant walls, Grelgen and two other fairies
stood within the archways waving their wands and murmuring
importantly. When the invocation was finished, she stepped
back and retreated toward the village with her cronies.
Folly took a step toward the minuscule barrier and tried
to step over. She gasped and drew back as if bitten,
holding her right hand.
“What is it?” Jon-Tom asked anxiously.
“It’s hot. The air’s hot.”
Experimentally, Jon-Tom waved at the emptiness above
the tiny stone wall. An invisible wall of flame now
enclosed them. He shook his hand and blew on his fingers
to cool them, deciding they weren’t going to blister.
Escape wouldn’t be easy.
Roseroar sighed and settled herself on the hard ground.
“An ironic conclusion to yoah expedition, Jon-Tom. Cap-
tured and imprisoned by a bunch of disgruntled, not to
mention uncouth, enchanted folk.”
“Don’t be so quick to give up. They may decide to let
us go yet. Besides,” he swung his duar around, “we have
magic of our own.”
Mudge looked imploringly heavenward. “Why me, wot?”
“I do not know that spellsinging will work against the
fairy folk, sir,” said Jalwar. “In my travels I have heard
that they are immune to all forms of magic except their
own. It may be that yours will have no effect on them, and
may even be turned against you.”
“You don’t say.” Jon-Tom’s fingers fell from the duar’s