“Practically everything I know is hard rock.”
Mudge gestured at the walls. “Strikes me as damned
appropriate.”
“Not like that,” Jon-Tom explained impatiently. “It’s a
name for a kind of popular music. You’ve heard me sing
it.”
“Aye, an1 I don’t pretend to understand a word o’ it.”
“Then you have something in common with my parents.”
Footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted them
momentarily.
“You’d better think up somethin’ quick, mate.”
“I’ll try.” He stuck his arms out between the bars,
waiting expectantly. His spirits were boosted by the sight
of the undamaged duar dangling from one of the jailer’s
paws.
“There was no gold,” the porcupine declared sourly.
“Sorry.” Mudge sighed fitfully. “About wot one would
expect from a snurge like Zancresta. Still, ’tweren’t no
‘arm in lookin’, were there?”
“What were you two talking about while I was gone? I
heard you talking.” The porcupine looked suspicious.
“Nothin’ much, mate. Just makin’ conversation. We
talk while you’re right ‘ere, too, don’t we?”
“Yes, that is so. Very well.” He stepped forward and
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
49
made as if to hand the duar to Jon-Tom, then hesitated. “I
do not know.”
“Oh, come on,” Jon-Tom urged him, a big smile
frozen on his face. “A little music would be nice. Not
everyone has the chance to hear an apprentice spellsinger
make music just for pleasure.”
“That is what concerns me.” The jailer stepped back
and rummaged through a wooden chest. When he returned
it was to clap a pair of thick leather cuffs on Jon-Tom’s
wrists. They were connected to one another by a chain. He