mighty ones.”
Jon-Tom indicated the disgruntled Mudge. “That ball of
fuzzy discontent is my friend Mudge.” The otter grunted
once. “And this tower of cautionless strength is Roseroar.”
“I am honored to be in your presence,” said the ferret
humbly, proceeding to prostrate himself on the beach and
grasping Jon-Tom’s boots. “I have nothing left. My stock
is gone, my money, everything save the clothes I wear. I
owe you my life. Take me into your service and let me
serve you.”
“Now, wait a minute.” Jon-Tom moved his boots out of
the ferret’s paws. “I don’t believe in slavery.”
” ‘Ere now, mate, let’s not be ‘asty.” Mudge was quick
to intervene. “Consider the poor suck—uh, this poor
unfortunate chap. ‘E’s got nothin’, ‘e ‘asn’t. ‘E’ll need
protection, or the next bunch ‘e runs into will kill Mm for
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
85
sure, just for ‘is clothes.” He eyed the ferret hopefully.
“Wot about it, guv? Can you cook?”
“I have some small talent in the kitchen, good sir.”
“Mudge…” Jon-Tom said warningly. The otter ig-
nored him.
“You said you washed clothes.”
“That I did, good sir. I have the ability to make even
ancient attire smell sweet as clover again, with the slightest
of cleansing materials. I am also handy at repairing gar-
ments. Despite my age, I am not a weakling. I can more
than carry my weight.”
Mudge strutted about importantly. ” ‘Ere then, friend, I
think we should take pity on you and admit you to our
company, wot”?”
“Mudge, you know how I feel about servants.”
“It wouldn’t be like that at all, Jon-Tom. ‘E does need