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

it rocked. The tall kangaroo wore a red satin vest which

THE DAY op THE DISSONANCE

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blended with her own natural rust color and, below, a kilt

similar in style to the rabbit’s. There were pockets and a

particularly wide one directly in front to permit the owner

access to her pouch. Jon-Tom stared at the lower belly but

was unable to tell if the female was carrying a joey, though

once he thought he saw something move. But he couldn’t

be sure, and since he was ignorant of macropodian eti-

quette, he thought it best not to inquire.

She also wore thick hexagonal granny glasses and a

heavy necklace of turquoise, black onyx, and malachite. A

matching bracelet decorated her right wrist, and she puffed

slowly on a corncob pipe which was switched periodically

from one side of her mouth to the other.

He halted at the bottom of the porch steps, “Are you the

one they call Snooth?”

“I expect I am,” the kangaroo replied, “since I’m the

only one around here by that name.” She took her pipe

from her lips and regarded them thoughtfully. “You folks

aren’t from around here. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve undertaken one hell of a shopping trip,” Jon-

Tom told her.

She sighed. “I was afraid of that. Just when I got

myself all nice and comfortable. Well, that’s par for the

course.”

Jon-Tom’s eyes grew wide. “That’s an expression of

my world.”

“Is it? I traffic with so many I sometimes get confused.

Sure as the gleebs are on the fondike.”

Jon-Tom decided to tread as lightly as possible, bearing

the rabbit’s admonition in mind. “We don’t want to