Spellsinger 03 – The Day of the Dissonance by Foster, Alan Dean

yo instrument fo making magic?”

“It is. Also, the keys are on the table nearby. If we

could get ahold of the rope attached to the duar, we could

maybe drag the keys over here.” He eyed the stairwell.

“But I don’t think we’ve got much time.”

“Well, sugah, if it’s the keys you want. . .” Roseroar

put one paw on a bar to the left, the other on the bar

immediately opposite, inhaled mightily, and pushed. Mus-

cles rippled beneath the armor.

There was a groan and the metal bent like spaghetti. The

tigress stepped through the resultant gap, walked over to

the table, and picked up the keyring.

“Yo still want these?”

Mudge was already out in the corridor. Jon-Tom was

eht on his heels. He snatched the duar and slung it over

his shoulder.

“I think we’ll be able to manage without them. Roseroar,

you’re quite a lady.”

“Aye, with a delicate and ladylike touch,” Mudge

“Ah think ah like you two,” she said thoughtfully,

staring at Mudge, “though ah can’t decide if y’all are

trying to be funny or flattering.” She gestured with the two

heavy swords. “Ah hope fo yo sake y’all are trying to be

funny.”

Jon-Tom hastened to reassure her. “You’ve got to take

whatever Mudge says with a grain of salt. Comments like

that are part of his nature. Sort of like a disease.” He

turned to bestow a warning look on the otter.

“Ah can see that,” said the tigress. “Well, ah don’t

know how ah’m going to get home, but ah sure don’t

fancy this hole. Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk.”

“Suits me,” said Jon-Tom agreeably.

At that moment the porcupine appeared at the top of the