wagon, where they sat with their hands tied behind their
backs. A couple of the coati’s henchmen took over the
reins. The little procession swung back northward, slightly
west of Timswitty but also in the opposite direction from
Lynchbany and the River Tailaroam.
“This Zancresta ‘as a bad reputation, mate,” Mudge
whispered to his companion. “Mind now, I’m not denyin’
‘is abilities. From wot I’ve ‘eard ‘e ain’t bad at sorcerin’,
but ‘e’s unscrupulous as ‘ell. Cheats on ‘is spells and
short-changes ‘is incantations, but ‘e’s too powerful for
anyone to go up against. I’ve ‘ad no dealin’s with ‘im
40
Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
41
tneself, and I stay clear o’ folk from Malderpot. As I said,
they ain’t much for partyinV
“From what you tell me about their chief wizard, I can
see why they aren’t.”
“Right.” Mudge nodded past the drivers. “Now, ’tis
clear this ‘ere ringtail knows nothin’ o’ wot ‘is master
wants with us. That may be somethin’ we can turn to our
advantage. So somehow we ‘ave to get clear o’ this
charmin’ bunch o’ throat-slitters before we’re brought up
before Zancresta himself. If that ‘appens, I ‘ave this funny
feelin’ that we’ll never see the shores o’ the Glittergeist or
any other calm water.”
“Don’t underestimate this one.” Jon-Tom indicated the
coati, who strolled along in the lead, talking with a couple
of his band. “He seems more than the usual hired thug.”
“Fancy clothes can’t hide one’s origin,” said Mudge.
“No harm in trying.” He raised his voice. “Hey, you,
leader!”
“Shut up,” snapped the muskrat from the driver’s