ticularly apt selection set the porcupine to snoozing. To
make sure, he added a relaxing rendition of “Scarborough
Fair.”
I
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
51
Carefully, he tugged gently on the cord. Two half-witted
eyes popped wide open and the line went taut.
“I told you not to try anything,” the porcupine growled.
For an instant Jon-Tom was sure they’d lose the duar
along with their last hope. “I didn’t mean anything!” he
said desperately. “It’s only that playing in the same
position all the time hurts my arms. I wasn’t doing
anything else.”
“Well…” The jailer slumped back in his chair. “See
that you don’t do it no more. Please play another song. I
never heard anything like them. Pretty.”
Despairingly, Jon-Tom simply sang the first thing that
came to mind, the theme song from one of the Rocky
films. Maybe it was his frustration, perhaps his sudden
indifference. Whatever the reason, he almost thought he
could feel the power running through him. He tried to
focus on it, really working himself into the useless song in
the hope it might lead to something better.
A faint smell of ozone began to filter into the air of the
dungeon. Something crackled near the ceiling. Mudge
scrambled warily back into the farthest comer of the cell.
Jon-Tom jumped as an electric shock ran up his wrists. He
tried to pull back into the cell, found he was trapped
against the bars by the leather wristcuffs and linking chain.
Oh, shit, he mumbled silently. I’ve gone and done
something weird again.
Only this time he was trapped up against whatever it