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

again. As for his personal sexual preferences, I could care

less. He’d be downright inconspicuous on Hollywood

Boulevard.”

“Well, maybe you’re right. Now, me, I knew it from

the first. The way ‘e minced out of the woods toward us.”

Drom overheard, lifted his muzzle, and said with digni-

ty, “I do not mince, otter. I prance.” He looked at

Jon-Tom. “You really believe your former acquaintances

will beat you to Crancularn and to the medicine you have

come for?”

“I hope not, but I fear it. They stole our only map.”

“That is a small loss. Do not regret it.” The unicorn

crunched a clump of purple ortnods with petals the shade

. of enameled amethyst. The flowers hummed as they were

consumed. “I can guide you there.”

“We were told it moves around.”

“Only in one’s imagination. There are those who stum-

ble through it without seeing it, or circle ’round it as if

blind. So they say it has moved. It does not move, but to

find it you must wish to. I know. I was told by those who

could know. I will lead you to Crancularn.”

“That’s bleedin’ wonderful,” Mudge confessed aloud.

He was mad at himself. There was no reason for him to be

nervous or wary in the unicorn’s presence. Drom was a

likable chap, wasn’t he, and Mudge didn’t look in the least

like a shire horse, did he? And hadn’t he always been told

never to look a gift unicorn in the mouth? He was upset

with himself.

Hadn’t the four-legs carried himself and Jon-Tom all this

way from Hathcar’s territory without complaining? Why,

with him galloping along and the rest of them taking turns