“Well,” asked Drom curiously, “do you have any idea
what it is?”
Jon-Tom ignored the unicorn. Frowning, he turned the
bottle upside down and dumped one of several tablets into
his palm. He eyed it uncertainly, and before anyone could
stop him, licked it. He sat and smacked his lips thoughtfully.
Abruptly his face contorted and his expression under-
went a horrible, dramatic change. His eyes bugged and a
hateful grimace twisted his mouth. As he rose his hands
were trembling visibly and he clutched the bottle so hard
his fingers whitened.
“It’s got him!” Folly stumbled back toward the bushes.
“Something’s got him!”
“Roseroar!” Mudge shouted. “Get ‘im down! I’ll find
some vines to tie ‘im with!” He rushed toward the trees.
“No,” Jon-Tom growled tightly. “No.” His face fell as
he stared at the bottle. Then he drew back his hand and
made as if to fling the plastic container and its priceless
contents into the deep woods. At the last instant he
stopped himself. Now he was smiling malevolently at the
tablet in his hand.
“No. We’re going to take it back. Take it back so that
Clothahump can see it. Can see what we crossed half a
world and nearly died a dozen times to bring him.” He
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Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
291
stared at his uneasy companions. “This is the medicine.
This will cure him. I’m sure it will. Then, when the pain
has left his body and he is whole and healthy again, I’ll
strangle him with my bare hands!”
“Ah don’t understand yo, Jon-Tom. What’s wrong if
that’s the right medicine?”
“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong.” He shook