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

you’d be kind enough to give me a moment alone with

him, I intend to take at least some of it out of his hide.”

The badger’s smile widened. “Your pleasure is mine,

sir.” Again she snapped her fingers. The grizzly let out a

disappointed grunt, turned, and ducked back through the

doorway.

“Take your time, sir. If you need anything helpful—

acid, some thin wooden slivers, anything at all—the house

will be delighted to supply it.”

The door closed behind her. As soon as they were alone,

Jon-Tom began to search the room. There was only one

window, off to the left. He tried to open it, found it

wouldn’t budge.

” ‘Ere now, mate,” said Mudge, ambling over, “wot’s

the trouble? Just pay the old whore and let’s be gone from

‘ere.”

“It’s not that simple, Mudge. That money is from

Clothahump, to pay for our passage at least as far as

Snarken. And I lied about the amount. No way is there

two hundred and fifty there.”

Mudge took a step backward as Jon-Tom strove to

puzzle out the window. “Just a minute there, mate. Wot’s

that about payin’ our way? Snarken, you said? That’s all

the way across the Glittergeist, ain’t it?”

“That’s right.” Jon-Tom squinted at the jamb. “I think

this locks from the outside. Clever. Must be a way to

break through it.”

Mudge continued backing toward the bed. “Nice of you

to come lookin’ for me, mate, but I’m afraid I can’t go

with you. And you say ‘is wizardship is behind it?”

“That’s right. He’s sick and I have to go get him some

medicine.”

“Right. Give the old reptile me best wishes, and I ‘ope he