anyone who ever gets there never comes back. ‘Tis the
entrance to ‘ell itself, mate. Surely you don’t mean to go
there.”
“Not only do I mean to go there, I intend to make a
small purchase and return safely with it. And you’re
coming with me. You promised.”
“‘Ere now, mate, when I made this ‘ere bargain,
weren’t nothin’ said about Cranculam. I’m out.” He stepped
off the chair and discovered he was straddling the far end
of Jon-Tom’s ramwood staff, which had been slipped
under the table earlier.
“Sit down,” Jon-Tom ordered him. Gingerly, the otter
resumed his seat. “You made a promise, Mudge. You
agreed to accompany me. In a sense, you accepted the
proffered fee. Where I come from an oral contract is
enforceable when the details are known to both parties,
and in this case the details are now known.”
“But Crancularn, mate. Can’t this medicine be got
anywheres else?”
Jon-Tom shook his head. “I pressed Clothahump on that
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
33
point repeatedly, and he never wavered. The only place it
can be bought is Crancularn.” He leaned over the table,
spoke almost angrily. “Look, do you think I want to go
gallivanting halfway across a strange world in search of
some old fart’s pills? I like Clothahump, sure, but I have
my own life to live. What’s left of it. If he dies leaving me
stuck here, I might as well be dead. It’s interesting
enough, your world, but I want to go home, damn it! I
miss Westwood on the opening night of a Steven Spielberg
movie, and I miss the bookstores on Hollywood Boule-
vard, and the beach, and bagels at the deli, and take-out