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

Roseroar snarled as she assumed a defensive posture.

Coming straight at them, belching smoke and bellowing

raggedly, was a three-footed demon. A rabbit rode the

demon’s back. This individual wore a wide-brimmed felt

hat; a long-sleeved shirt of muslin, open halfway; and a

short mauve skirt similar to the kilts favored by the

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

249

intelligent arboreals of this world. His enormous feet were

unshod.

The demon slowed as it approached. Jon-Tom drew in a

deep breath as it stopped in front of him and hastened to

reassure his companions. “It’s all right. It can’t harm

you.”

“How do yo know, Jon-Tom?” Roseroar kept her hands

on her sword hilts.

“Because I know what it is. It’s a Honda ATC Offroad

Three-wheeler.” He admired the red-painted demon. “Au-

tomatic too. I didn’t know Honda made an ATC with

automatic.”

“Funny name for a demon,” Mudge was muttering.

“Hiya,” said the rabbit cheerfully, revving the engine.

“Can I help you folks?”

“You sure can.” Jon-Tom pointed at the ATC. “Where’d

you get that?”

The rider raced the motor and Drom shied away. “From

the Shop of the Aether and Neither. Where else?”

Jon-Tom felt a burst of excitement. Maybe Clothahump

was right. The inexplicable presence of the ATC in this

world was proof enough that powerful magic was at work

here.

“That’s where we want to go.”

“Figures,” said the rabbit. “Nice of you to drop in. We

don’t get a lot of visitors here in Crancularn. For some

reason, travelers avoid us.”

“Might be your wonderful reputation,” Mudge told

him.

The rabbit eyed them appraisingly. “Strangers. Don’t