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

“Of course I’m not,” said Jon-Tom encouragingly,

moving forward himself. “A gig’s a gig, but that shouldn’t

come between a couple of professionals.” When Charrok

was near enough, Jon-Tom put a comradely arm around

the bird’s shoulders, having to bend over to do so. “This

isn’t your fight, singer. Two musician-magicians of our

caliber shouldn’t be trying to destroy each other. We

should be collaborating. Imagine the wizardry we could

work! This shouldn’t be a duel, it should be a jam

session.”

“I’d like that,” said Charrok. He searched the aisle

beyond. “Where are the berries?”

“Not that kind of jam. I mean we should play together,

make music and magic together.”

A hand reached out and clutched in frustration at the

mockingbird’s vest. “1 won’t have this!” The ferret was

jumping up and down on short legs. “I tell you, I won’t

have it! I’ve paid you well to serve me in this matter. We

have a contract! There is too much at stake here.”

“Yea, including my reputation,” Charrok told him frosti-

ly. “But,” he glanced up at Jon-Tom, “that can always be

settled between friends. As for your money, you can have

it back. I’ve decided I don’t want.. .”

“Look out, mate!” Mudge yelled. The otter threw

himself forward, hit Zancresta just in time to make the

subtle knife thrust the ferret had been aiming at Jon-Tom

beneath Charrok’s wing miss. The two went rolling over

together on the floor.

“Hold him, sun!” Roseroar thundered as she advanced,

ready to remove Zancresta’s head from his neck as easily

as she would a stopper from a bottle.