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

who only shrugged helplessly. Apparently now that the

djinn had been called, she was powerless to control it.

“PAY FOR YOUR GOODS YOU MAY, BUT NOW I HAVE

BEEN CALLED FORTH, AND I MUST ALSO BE PAID. HOW

WILL YOU DO THAT, PALE WORM? I HAVE NO NEED OF

YOUR MONEY. PERHAPS YOU WILL SING ME A SONG SO

THAT I MAY LET YOU LEAVE?” Volcanic laughter filled the

Shop of the Aether and Neither.

Jon-Tom felt a hand pushing at him. “Well come on,

then, mate,” Mudge whispered urgently, “go to it. I’m

right ‘ere behind you if you need me ‘elp.”

“You’re such a comfort.” Still, the otter was right. It

was up to him to somehow placate this djinn and get them

out of there. But he was exhausted from his duel with

Charrok and Zancresta, and worn out from thinking up

song after song. He was also more than a little irritated.

Not the most sensible attitude to take, perhaps, but he was

too tired to care.

“You listen to me, Hargood ali rooge.”

The djinn glowered. “I DON’T LIKE MORTALS WHO GET

MY NAME WRONG.”

“Okay, I can go with that,” Jon-Tom replied, “but

you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve had a helluva couple of

weeks. We came here to get some medicine for a sick

friend. If that old fart hadn’t intruded,” and he gestured at

the smear on the floor, “we’d be out of here and on our

THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE

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way by now. We didn’t have a damn thing to do with his

actions.”

“TRULY YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN ON YOUR WAY, BUT

WHICH WAY IS RIGHT AND PROPER FOR YOU TO GO,

LITTLE MORTAL?”

“Do you still have the medicine, Snooth?” The kanga-

roo nodded, opened a fist to show the precious container.