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

leaves stood against the far wall. The headboard curved

slightly forward. A pile of sheets and pillows filled the

bed, an eruption of fine linen. Jon-Tom guessed this was

not the cheapest room in the house.

From within the silks and satins came a muffled but still

familiar voice. “Is that you, Lisette? Are you comin’ back

to forgive me, luv? Wot I said, that were only a joke.

Meant nothin’ by it, I did.”

“That would be the first time,” Jon-Tom said coolly.

There was silence, then the pile of sheets stirred and a head

emerged, black eyes blinking in the darkness. “Cor, I’m

‘aving a bloody nightmare, I am! Too much bubbly.”

“I don’t know what you’ve had,” Jon-Tom said as he

moved toward the bed, “but this is no nightmare.”

Mudge wiped at his eyes with the backs of his paws.

“Right then, mate, it is no nightmare. You’re too damned

big to be a nightmare. Wot^the ‘ell are you doin’ ‘ere,

anyways?”

“Looking for you.”

26

Alan Dean Poster

“You picked the time for it.” He vanished beneath the

linens. “Where’s me clothes?”

Jon-Tom turned, searched the shadows until he’d located

the vest, cap, pants and boots. The oversized bow and

quiver of arrows lay beneath the bed. He tossed the whole

business onto the mattress.

“Here.”

“Thanks, mate.” The otter began to flow into the

clothes, his movements short and fast. ” ‘Tis a providence,

it is, wot brings you to poor oF Mudge now.”

“I don’t know about that. You actually seem glad to see

me. It’s not what I expected.”

Mudge looked hurt. “Wot, not ‘appy to see an old

friend? You pierce me to the quick. Now why wouldn’t I