“Did you? If you say it so, I doubt it not. Still, this far
north places us well away from the east-west trade routes.
We will encounter no vessels here.”
“You won’t get any arguments from me on that score,
mate,” said Mudge. “Best to do as you say, go back to the
Bellwoods and the Tailaroam and start over. Likely
Chenelska’s give up on us by now.”
“No,” said Jon-Tom firmly. “I am not going back and I
am not starting over. We’ve come too far.”
Mudge squinted up at him. “Well now, you’ve just
‘eard this wise old chap. ‘Ow do you propose to get us
across that?” He pointed to the broad, sailless expanse of
the Glittergeist. “I like to swim, lad, but I prefer swimmin’
across water I can cross.”
“What can yo do, Jon-Tom?” Roseroar asked him.
He stood fuming silently for a moment before blurting
out, “I can damn well conjure us up a boat, that’s what!”
“Uh-oh.” Mudge retreated toward the trees, searching
for a boulder of appropriate size to conceal himself behind.
” ‘Is nibs is pissed off and ‘e’s goin’ to try spellsingin’
again.”
Roseroar eyed the otter curiously. “Isn’t that his busi-
ness, fuzzball?”
“That may be wot some calls it. Me, I’d as soon brush
a crocodile’s teeth than ‘elp ‘im with ‘is work.”
“Ah don’t understand. Is he a spellsinger or not?”
” ‘E is,” Mudge admitted. “Of that there’s no longer
any doubt. ‘Tis just that ‘e ‘as this disconcertin’ tendency
THE DAT OF THE DISSONANCE
87
to misfire from time to time, and when it ‘appens, I don’t
want to be in the line o’ fire.”
“Go on, Roseroar,” Jon-Tom told her. “Get back there