deeds done dirt cheap?”
274
Alan Dean Poster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
275
“AC/DC,” Jon-Tom replied tiredly. “I thought it might
conjure me up a few berserk assassins. No such luck.”
“Good try, though,” Charrok complimented him. “I
could almost feel the knife at my throat.”
Zancresta stepped forward, careful to keep the body of
his hired instrument between himself and Mudge.
“What is this? I am not paying you to indulge in casual
conversation with this man. I am paying you to kill him!”
Charrok turned. His gaze narrowed as he stared up at
the sorceror. “You hold on a minute there, Mr. Zancresta,
sir. You hired my spellsinging, not my soul.”
“Don’t get existential with me, you warbling bumpkin!
You’ll do as you’re told!”
Charrok was unperturbed by the sorcerer’s outburst.
“That’s what I’ve been doing.” He nodded toward Jon-
Tom. “This fella’s mighty damn good. He might, just
might, be better than me.”
“I don’t know who’s best and I don’t care,” Jon-Tom
said hastily, “but you sing like a storm and you play like a
fiend. I’d appreciate it a lot if you could show me that last
song.” He strummed an empty chord on the duar. “Maybe
I’ve only got five fingers here, but I’d damn sure like to
give it a try.”
“I don’t know … a duar only has two sets of strings and
my syreed three. Still, if you dropped a note here and
there….” He started to walk over. “Let’s have a looksee.”
“No fraternizing with the enemy,” Zancresta snapped,
putting a restraining paw on the mockingbird’s shoulder.
Charrok shook it off.
“Maybe he ain’t my enemy.”