“Looks like your business is rather slow,” observed
Drom.
Snooth shrugged in mid-hop. “I’m not looking to get
rich, unicorn. I just like the business, that’s all. Besides,
it’s a good way to keep up with what’s going on in the
greater cosmos. Goods are better than gossip and more
honest reflections of what’s happening elsewhere than
official news pronouncements and zeeways.”
“Must be ‘ard on profits,” Mudge commented.
“That depends on what kind of profit you’re trying to
make, otter.”
Jon-Tom eyed the kangaroo uneasily. “That’s a funny
thing for a shopkeeper to say. Are you sure you aren’t
some kind of sorceress yourself?”
“Who, me?” Snooth appeared genuinely shocked. “Not
I, sir. Too many responsibilities, too many regulations
attached to the profession. I prefer my present employ-
ment, thank you. And the cost-of-living in Crancularn is
low.” A pause, then, “What about this ferret and girl you
referred to earlier?”
“They were traveling with us,” Jon-Tom explained.
“We had an unfortunate parting of the ways.”
“Unfortunate, ‘ell!” Mudge rumbled. “The dirty bug-
gers stole our map, they did, and it were only by dint o’
good luck and this spellsinger’s determination and this
one-horn’s knowledge o’ the lay o’ the land that we …!”
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
261
Snooth interrupted him, smiling at Jon-Tom. “So you
are a spellsinger? I noticed the duar you carry right off, but
I imagined you to be no more than a traveling musician.”
“I’m still an amateur,” Jon-Tom confessed. “I’m still
learning how to control my abilities.”