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

gave up and fled for the safety of the woods with the

otter’s deadly shafts urging them on.

No one had approached Jon-Tom’s window during the

fight. Mudge and Roseroar had done all the work and he

felt pretty useless.

“What now? I don’t think they’ll try that again.”

“No, but they’ll bloody well try somethin’ else,”

murmured the otter. “Say, mate, why don’t you ‘ave a go

at ’em with your duar?”

Jon-Tom blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that. Well, I had,

but it’s hard to think and sing when you’re running.”

“Why make music? To aggravate them?” asked Drom

interestedly.

“Nope. ‘E’s a spellsinger, ‘e is,” said Mudge, “and a

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right good one, too. When ‘e can control it,” he added by

way of afterthought.

“A spellsinger. I am impressed,” said the unicorn.

Jon-Tom felt a little better, though he wished the golden

stallion would quit staring at him so intensely.

“What do you think they’ll try next?” Jon-Tom asked

the otter.

Mudge eyed the trees. “This bunch bein’ about as

imaginative as a pile o’ cow flop, I’d expect them to try

smokin’ us out. If four legs there is right about the cracks

in the roof lettin’ air in, they’ll be wastin’ their time.”

“Are yo certain theah’s no back way in?”

“None that I was ever able to discover,” Drom told the

tigress.

“Not that you’d fit places where some o1 the rest of us

might,” observed Mudge thoughtfully. He handed his bow

and quiver to Jon-Tom. “I’d better check out the nooks

and crannies, mate. We don’t want some nasty surprises to

show up and stick us in the behind when we ain’t lookin’.”