“Crancularn.” Hathcar looked back at his colleagues,
who were hard-pressed to restrain their amusement. “That’s
a fool’s errand.”
Jon-Tom casually let his fingers stray to his staff. He’d
had just about enough of this questioning, enigmatic visi-
tor. Either they wanted something to eat or they didn’t,
and double-talk wasn’t on the menu.
“Maybe you think we look like fools,” Hathcar said.
All hints of laughter fled from the gang standing behind
him. Jon-Tom didn’t reply, waited for what might come.
The cuscus’s smile returned, and he moved toward the
fire. “Well, you have offered us a meal. That’s a wise
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
225
decision. Certainly not one to be made by fools.” He
pulled a throwing knife. “If I might try a bite? It looks
well done. My compliments to the cook.” Mudge said
nothing.
Jon-Tom watched the visitor closely. Was he going to
cut meat with it… or throw it? He couldn’t decide.
Something came flying through the air toward him. He
ducked and rolled, ending up on his feet holding the
ramwood staff protectively in front of him. Mudge picked
up his bow and notched an arrow into the string. Roseroar’s
longswords flashed as they were drawn. All within a
couple of seconds.
Hathcar was careful not to raise the knife he now held.
Behind him, his colleagues gripped their own weapons
threateningly. But the cuscus was not glaring at Jon-Tom.
His gaze was on the creature who had come flying through
the air to land heavily next to the tall human.
The mongoose was clad entirely in black. It lay on its