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

Jon-Tom’s own expression began to drift as he contin-

ued to sing, remembering the words, remembering the

chords. A brief eternity passed. It was Mudge who reached

up to break the trance.

“That’s it, mate,” he whispered. He shook Jon-Tom

hard. “C’mon, guv, snap out o’ it.” Jon-Tom continued to

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play on, a beatific expression on his face. The djinn

hovered before him like some vast rusty blimp, hands

folded over his chest, great claws interlocked, whispering.

“BEAUTIFUL … Beautiful… beautiful…”

“Come on, mate!” The otter turned to Roseroar, who

was swaying slowly in time to the music, her eyes blank.

A thin trickle of drool fell from her mouth. Mudge tried to

kick her in the rump, but his foot wouldn’t reach that high.

So he settled for slapping Folly.

“What… what’s happening?” She blinked. “Stop hit-

ting me.” She focused on the drifting djinn. “What’s

happened to him? He looks so strange.”

” ‘E ain’t the only one,” Mudge snapped. ” ‘Elp me

wake the rest of ’em up.”

They managed to revive Drom and Charrok and Roseroar,

but Jon-Tom stubbornly refused to return to reality. He was

as locked into the deceptively langorous state of mind he’d

conjured up as was the target of his song.

“Wake «/>!” Roseroar demanded as she shook him. He

turned to her, still playing, and smiled broadly.

“Wake up? But why? Everything’s so beautiful.” He

looked half through her. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful

you are?”

Roseroar was taken aback by that one, but only for a

moment. “Tell me later, sun.” She threw him over her left