veritable frenzy and the badger who was clearly the owner
of the house of ill repute, but he suspected the sight of the
full-grown grizzly adjusting the brass knuckles over his
immense paws did not bode well for the future.
"I understand your concern, luv," said Mudge as he
casually recovered his bow and quiver, "but now that me
mate's 'ere everything will be squared away."
"Will it, now?" she said. The grizzly stood rubbing one
palm with a massive fist and grinning. His teeth were very
white. The badger eyed Jon-Tom. "Does he mean to say
that you'll pay his bill?"
"Pay his bill? What do you mean, pay his bill?"
"He's been up here for three days without coming
down, enjoying my best liquor and girls, and now he tells
them he hasn't got a silver to his bastard name."
Jon-Tom glared back at Mudge. The otter shrugged,
didn't appear in the least embarrassed. "Hey, at least I was
honest about it, mate. I told 'em I was broke. But it's all
right, ain't it? You'll pay for me, won't you?"
"You are his friend?" inquired the badger.
"Well, yeah." He brought out the purse Clothahump
had given him and jiggled it. The gold inside jingled
musically, and the badger and the bear relaxed.
She smiled at him. "Now that's more like it.. .sir. I
can see that you are a gentleman, though I don't think
much of your choice of friends." Mudge looked wronged.
"How much does he owe you?"
She didn't even have to think. "Two hundred and fifty,
sir. Plus any damages to the linen. I'll have to check."
28
Alan Dean Poster
"I can cover it," Jon-Tom assured her. He turned to
look darkly at Mudge, hefting his ramwood staff. "If
you'd be kind enough to give me a moment alone with
him, I intend to take at least some of it out of his hide."
The badger's smile widened. "Your pleasure is mine,
sir." Again she snapped her fingers. The grizzly let out a
disappointed grunt, turned, and ducked back through the
doorway.
"Take your time, sir. If you need anything helpful—
acid, some thin wooden slivers, anything at all—the house
will be delighted to supply it."
The door closed behind her. As soon as they were alone,
Jon-Tom began to search the room. There was only one
window, off to the left. He tried to open it, found it
wouldn't budge.
" 'Ere now, mate," said Mudge, ambling over, "wot's
the trouble? Just pay the old whore and let's be gone from
'ere."
"It's not that simple, Mudge. That money is from
Clothahump, to pay for our passage at least as far as
Snarken. And I lied about the amount. No way is there
two hundred and fifty there."
Mudge took a step backward as Jon-Tom strove to
puzzle out the window. "Just a minute there, mate. Wot's
that about payin' our way? Snarken, you said? That's all
the way across the Glittergeist, ain't it?"
"That's right." Jon-Tom squinted at the jamb. "I think
this locks from the outside. Clever. Must be a way to
break through it."
Mudge continued backing toward the bed. "Nice of you
to come lookin' for me, mate, but I'm afraid I can't go
with you. And you say 'is wizardship is behind it?"
"That's right. He's sick and I have to go get him some
medicine."
"Right. Give the old reptile me best wishes, and I 'ope he
makes a speedy recovery. As for me, I've some (ravelin' to do
for me 'ealth, and salt air doesn't agree with me lungs."
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
29
"You're not going anywhere unless it's with me,"
Jon-Tom snapped at him. "You take one step out that door
and I'll call the madam. I saw the look in her eyes. She'd
enjoy separating your head from the rest of you. So would
that side of beef that came in with her."
"I ain't "afraid of no bag of suet wot communicates in
grunts," Mudge said.
Jon-Tom turned from the window. "Then maybe I ought
to call them. I can always find someone else to accompany
me."
Mudge rushed at him. "Take it easy, mate, 'old on. To
Snarken, you say?"
"Maybe beyond."
"Ain't no place beyond Snarken."
"Yes there is. Little town not too far inland from
there." He fumbled between the windowpanes, was rewarded
by a double clicking sound. "Ah,"
He lifted the window slowly. Halfway up, something
loud and brassy began to clang inside the building.
"Shit! There's an alarm spell on this thing!" The
sounds of pounding feet came from the hall.
"No time for regrets, mate, and you'd best not stand
there gawkin'." Mudge was over the sill in a flash and
shinnying down the rainpipe outside. Jon-Tom followed
more slowly, envying the otter his agility.
By the time they reached the pavement, faces had
appeared at the open window.
"You won't get away from me, otter!" Madam Lorsha
yelled, shaking her fist at them as they ran up the side
street. At any moment Jon-Tom expected to hear the
grizzly's footsteps behind them, feel huge paws closing
around his throat. "I'll hunt you to the ends of the world!
No one runs out owing Madam Lorsha!"
"Funny what she said about the ends of the world,"
Jon-Tom murmured as he followed the otter down endless
alleyways and turns. He was sure Mudge had memorized
30
Alan Dean Foster
this escape route before stepping inside the brothel. "That's
where we're going."
"There you go again, mate," said Mudge, "usin' them
words like we and us."
"I need your help, Mudge."
They reached a main street and slowed to a walk as they
joined the crowd of evening strollers. Timswirty was a
good-sized town, much bigger than Lynchbany. It was
unlikely Madam Lorsha's thugs would be able to find
them. Jon-Tom tried to hunch over and mask his excep-
tional height.
"Clothahump is deathly ill, and we must have this
medicine. I'm not any happier about making this trip than
you are."
"You must be, mate, because I'm not goin' to make it.
Don't get me wrongo. You just 'elped me clear out of a
bad spot. 1 am grateful, I am, but she weren't worth
enough to make me put me life on the line for you, much
less for that old word-poisoner."
They edged around a strolling couple. "I need someone
who knows the way, Mudge."
"Then you needs some other bloke, mate. I ain't never
been to Snarken."
"I mean someone who knows the ways of the world,
Mudge. I've learned a lot since I've been here, but that's
nothing compared to what I don't know. I need your good
advice as well as your unconventional knowledge."
"Sure you do." Mudge puffed up importantly in spite of
knowing better. "You think you can flatter me into goin',
is that it? Or did you think I'd forgotten your intentions
to
be a solicitor in your own world? Don't take me for a fool,
mate."
"I have to have someone along I can trust," Jon-Tom
went on. The otter's expression showed that was one ploy
he wasn't expecting.
"Now that ain't fair, guv'nor, and you knows it."
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
31
"There will also," Jon-Tom added, saving the best for
last, "be a good fee for helping me."
That piqued the otter's interest. " 'Ere now, why didn't
you come out and say that t' begin with instead of goin' on
with all this twaddle about *ow 'is poor old 'ardheaded
curmudgeonly 'oiiness was 'aving an attack of the gout or
whatever, or 'ow badly you need me unique talents." He
moved nearer and put a comradely arm around Jon-Tom's
waist, as high as he could comfortably reach.
"You 'ave a 'ell of a lot to learn about life, guv'nor."
He rambled on as the evening fog closed in comfortingly
around them, explaining that though he didn't know how it
was in Jon-Tom's world, here it was gold that spoke
clearest and bought one's trust. Not words.
Jon-Tom allowed as how things indeed were different,
deferring to the otter's claims while privately disagreeing.
It did not matter who was right, however. All that mattered
was that Mudge had agreed to join him.
Mudge managed to steer them into a tavern in a high-
class district. Having already flashed Clothahump's gold,
Jon-Tom couldn't very well claim he didn't have the
wherewithal to pay. So he went slowly through his own
meal while the otter devoured a gigantic banquet more
suitable to the appetite of Madam Lorsha's bouncer. As
Mudge explained between mouthfuls, he'd burned up a lot
of energy this past week and wanted to make certain he
embarked on their long journey at full strength.
Only when the otter had finished the final morsel did he
lean contentedly back in his chair.
"So you say we're goin' to distant Snarken, wot, and
beyond, and I say there's nothin' beyond. Wot did 'is nibs
say it would be like?"
"He didn't exactly say." Jon-Tom picked at a sweet
dessert. "Just the town where the store with the medicine
is kept."
"Yeah, I 'eard you say somethin' about a town. 'As it
got a name?"
32
Alan Dean Poster
Jon-Tom decided the bittersweet berry dessert was to his
taste, finished the last of it. "Cranculam."
"WOT?" Mudge suddenly was sitting bolt upright,
dribbling the last traces of wrinklerry jelly from his lips as
he gaped at the man sitting across the table from him. A
few curious diners spared him a glance, returned to their
business when they saw no fighting was involved.
Mudge wiped at his sticky whiskers and spoke more
softly, eyeing Jon-Tom sideways. "Wot did you say the
name o' this dump was, guv'nor?"
"Crancularn. I see you've heard of it."
" 'Hard of it, you're bloody well right I've 'card of it.
That's a place o' the dead, mate."
"I thought there wasn't anything beyond Snarken."
"Not supposed to be, mate, but then, nobody knows
where this Crancularn is supposed to be either, except that
it moves about from time to time, like lice, and that
anyone who ever gets there never comes back. 'Tis the
entrance to 'ell itself, mate. Surely you don't mean to go
there."
"Not only do I mean to go there, I intend to make a
small purchase and return safely with it. And you're
coming with me. You promised."
"'Ere now, mate, when I made this 'ere bargain,
weren't nothin' said about Cranculam. I'm out." He stepped
off the chair and discovered he was straddling the far end
of Jon-Tom's ramwood staff, which had been slipped
under the table earlier.
"Sit down," Jon-Tom ordered him. Gingerly, the otter
resumed his seat. "You made a promise, Mudge. You
agreed to accompany me. In a sense, you accepted the
proffered fee. Where I come from an oral contract is
enforceable when the details are known to both parties,
and in this case the details are now known."
"But Crancularn, mate. Can't this medicine be got
anywheres else?"
Jon-Tom shook his head. "I pressed Clothahump on that
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
33
point repeatedly, and he never wavered. The only place it
can be bought is Crancularn." He leaned over the table,
spoke almost angrily. "Look, do you think I want to go
gallivanting halfway across a strange world in search of
some old fart's pills? I like Clothahump, sure, but I have
my own life to live. What's left of it. If he dies leaving me
stuck here, I might as well be dead. It's interesting
enough, your world, but I want to go home, damn it! I
miss Westwood on the opening night of a Steven Spielberg
movie, and I miss the bookstores on Hollywood Boule-
vard, and the beach, and bagels at the deli, and take-out
Chinese food, and—"
"All right, mate, I believe you. Spare me your memo-
ries. So it's a contract, is it? At least you're learnin' 'ow to
stick up for your rights." He smiled and tapped the staff.
Jon-Tem was taken aback. He'd acted almost exactly the
way Mudge would have if their situations had been re-
versed. The thought was more than a little appalling.
"You'll keep your end of the bargain, then?"
"Aye." Mudge spoke with obvious reluctance. "I gave
happy one, they say. Tis better than dyin' in one's bed.
Alone, anyway."
"There's no need for all this talk of dying." Jon-Tom
sipped at the mug of cold cider in front of him. "We are
going to get to Cranculam, obtain the necessary medica-
tion, and return here. All we're doing is running an
errand."
"That's right, mate. Just an errand." He belched derisively,
to the unconcealed disgust of the well-dressed diners
nearby. "Wot a day it was for me when you tumbled into
that glade where I was huntin' so peaceful. Why couldn't
you 'ave settled on some other poor bloke besides old
Mudge?"
"You were just lucky. As for your ill fortune, we don't
know yet who's the fool in this play: you for agreeing to
come with me or me for wanting you to."
1
34
Alan Dean Foster
"You singe me privates, mate," said Mudge, looking
wounded, an expression he had mastered.
"A wonder there's anything left to singe, after three
days in that brothel. Finish up and let's find a place to
sleep. I'm bushed."
ill
It took six tries to finally wake Mudge. After three days of
nonstop debauchery and the huge mea! of the previous
night, the otter had to be helped to the bathroom. He got
his pants on backwards and his boots on opposite feet.
Jon-Tom straightened him out and together they worked
their way through Tims witty in search of transportation.
From a nervous dealer badly in need of business they
rented a low wooden wagon pulled by a single aged dray
lizard, promising to drop it off at the port of Yarrowl at the
mouth of the Tailaroam. From Yarrowl it should be a
simple matter to book passage on a merchantman making
the run across the Glittergeist to Snarken.
They succeeded in slipping quietly out of town without
catching the eye of Madam Lorsha or her hirelings and
were soon heading south along the narrow trade road.
Once within the forest Mudge relaxed visibly.
" 'Peers we gave the old harridan the slip, mate."
Jon-Tom's eyebrows lifted. "We?"
"Well now, guv'nor, since 'tis we who are goin* on this
little jaunt and we who are goin' to risk our lives for the
sake o' some half-dotty ol' wizard, I think 'tis fair enough
35
36
Alan Dean Foster
for me to say that 'tis we who escaped the clutches of her
haunches."
"Plural good and plural bad, is that it?" Jon-Tom
chucked the reins, trying to spur the ancient lumbering
reptile to greater speed. "I guess you're right."
"Nice of you to agree, mate," said Mudge slyly. "So
'ow's about lettin' me 'ave a looksee at our money?"
"I'll keep an eye on our travel expenses, thanks. I need
your help with several matters, Mudge, but counting coin
isn't one of them."
"Ah well, then." Mudge leaned back against the hard
back of the bench, put his arms behind his head, and gazed
through the tinkling branches at the morning sun. "If you
don't trust me, then to 'ell with you, mate."
"At least if I end up there it'll be with our money
intact."
They stopped for lunch beneath a tree with bell leaves
the size of quart jars. Mudge unpacked snake jerky and
fruit juice. The appearance of the fruit juice made the otter
shudder, but he was intelligent enough to know that he'd
overdone his alcoholic intake just a hair the past week and
that the percentage in his blood could not be raised much
higher without permanent damage resulting. He poured
himself a glass, wincing as he did so.
Something glinted in the glass and he looked sharply to
his right. Nothing amiss. Bell leaves making music with
the morning breezes, flying lizards darting from branch to
branch in pursuit of a psychedelic bee.
Still... Carefully he set down his glass next to the
wagon wheel. The dray lizard snoozed gratefully in a