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

Grelgen hesitated. When she spoke again, she sounded

slightly embarrassed.

“Actually, you’re right. It’s only that every once in a

while we get this craving, see? Whoever’s unlucky enough

to be in the neighborhood at the time ends up on the

village menu.” She glanced over at Folly and tried to

regain some of her former arrogance. “We also find it

helpful now and then to bathe in the blood of a virgin.”

Folly digested this and collapsed, rolling about on the

ground while laughing hysterically. Grelgen saw the tears

pouring down the helpless girl’s cheeks, grunted, and

looked back over a shoulder. Jon-Tom followed her gaze.

On the far side of fairy town a bunch of muscular,

overweight enchanted folk were sliding an oversized wooden

bowl down a slope. At the sound of Grelgen’s voice they

halted.

“Right! Cancel the bathing ceremony!”

Cursing under their breath, the disappointed bowl mov-

ers reversed their efforts and began pushing their burden

back into the bushes.

194

Alan Dean Foster

T

THE DAY OF TBE DISSONANCE

195

“So you think it’s funny, do you? Right then, you’re

first on the fire instead of the water rat.”

That put a clamp on Folly’s laughter.

“Why her?” Jon-Tom demanded to know.

“Why not her? For one thing she’s already depelted.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Folly braced herself against the

bare granite wall, as far from Grelgen as she could get.

“You just try and touch me! I’ll squash you like a bug.”

Grelgen looked disgusted, waved her wand almost

indifferently, and whispered something under her breath.

Folly leaped away from the wall, clutching her backside.