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

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Alan Dean Poster

riding him, they might yet overtake that prick Jalwar and

his whore of a helpmate Folly.

They made rapid progress westward, but still there was

no sign of their former friends.

When they finally found themselves on the outskirts of

Crancularn itself, Jon-Tom found it hard to believe. He’d

half come to think of the town as existing only in

Clothahump’s imagination. Yet there it was.

Yes, there it was, and after too many close calls with

death, after crossing the Muddletup Moors and the Glittergeist

Sea and innumerable hills and vales, he was more than a

little discouraged by the sight of it.

The setting was impressive enough: a heavily forested

slope that climbed the flank of a slowly smoking volcano.

The town itself, however, was about as awe-inspiring as

dirty, homey Lynchbany. Tumble-down shacks and ram-

shackle two-and three-story buildings of wood and mud

crowded close to one another as if fearful of encountering the

sunlight. A dirty fog clung to the streets and the angular,

slate-roofed structures. As they headed toward the town, a

familiar odor made his nostrils contract: the thick musk of

the unwashed of many species mixed with the stink of an

open sewer system. His initial excitement was rapidly

fading.

Massive oaks and sycamores grew within the town

itself, providing more shade where none was required and

sometimes even shouldering buildings aside. Jon-Tom was

about to ask Drom if perhaps they might have come to the

wrong place when the unicorn reared back on its hind

hooves and nearly dumped him and Mudge to the ground.