wouldn’t try to trick you into conjurin’ up me some gold at
a time like this, mate. Would I?” Jon-Tom didn’t reply.
Mudge moved his hands, and his eyes went wide with
surprise. “Crikey, would you ‘ave a look at this! It’s
‘ealin’ right over, it ’tis! Thanks be to your magic, mate.
I’ll never forget this, guv, never!”
“I’ll bet you won’t,” said the disgusted Jon-Tom. He
stood, and Mudge’s head bounced off the floor.
“Ow! Damnit, you bloody smart-arsed, know-it-all,
over-sized, shallow-voiced son of a… !”
Jon-Tom didn’t hear the rest. He’d turned to look down
the aisle. It was full of smoke from conjured lightning and
dust fallen from the ceiling. There was no sign of Zancresta
or the vengeful Roseroar. The fight had moved to another
aisle, another row of shelving. Snooth had also vanished,
which was understandable. The proprietress had retreated
to a place of safety to await the outcome of the fight,
exactly as Jon-Tom would have done had their positions
been reversed.
“Get up, Mudge,” Jon-Tom said impatiently. “We’ve
got to help Roseroar.”
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
277
The otter rose, still holding a paw over the light wound.
“That she-massif doesn’t need any ‘elp, mate. I’ll ‘elp you
look for ‘er, but odds’ll get you she finds that bastard
Zancresta first.” He winced, inspected his knife cut.
“Ruined a good vest, ‘e did.”
“Wait.” Jon-Tom squinted into the haze that filled the
aisle. “I think she’s coming.”
But it wasn’t Roseroar. It moved on four legs and its
golden coat glowed even in the weak light. Clinging to the