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

quietly and unthreateningly above them.

Inquiries in town had produced no mention of visitors

resembling Jalwar or Folly. Either the two had lost their

way or else with Drom’s aid they had already passed the

renegade pair in the woods. Jon-Tom experienced a pang of

regret. He still wasn’t completely convinced of Folly’s

complicity in the theft of the map.

No time for that now. The rabbit on the ATC implied

they might have trouble purchasing what they wanted from

this Snooth. Jon-Tom struggled to compose a suitably ef-

fective speech. AH they needed was a little bit of medicine.

Nothing so complex as a malleable globe or toothless saw.

His hand went to the tiny vial dangling from the chain

around his neck. Inside was the formula for the desperately

needed medicine. He hadn’t brought it this far to be turned

away empty-handed.

There was no sign, no posted proclamations to advertise

the shop’s presence. They turned around a cluster of oaks,

and there it was, a simple wooden building, one story

high. It was built up against the rocks. A single wooden

door was set square in the center of the storefront, which

was shaded by a broad, covered porch.

A couple of high-backed rocking chairs sat on the

porch, unoccupied. Wooden shingles in need of repair

covered the sloping roof that likewise ran up into the

rocks. Jon-Tom estimated the entire building enclosed no

more than a thousand square feet of space. Hardly large

enough for store and home combined.

As they drew close, a figure emerged from inside and

settled into the farther rocking chair. The chair creaked as