captivity and a long time since any of the enchanted folk
had suggested having one of their guests for supper.
"I have a confession to make. It's not magic. It's only
exercise."
"Call it by whatever name you wish," she replied, "it
is magic to us. We are starting to look like the enchanted
folk once more. Even I," she finished proudly. She did a
deep knee-bend to prove it, something she couldn't have
imagined doing five days earlier. Of course, she did it
while hovering in midair, which made it somewhat easier.
Still, the accomplishment was undeniable.
"You are free to go," she told them.
Roseroar stepped forward and cautiously thrust out a
paw. The invisible wall of fire which had kept them
imprisoned had vanished, leaving behind only a little
lingering heat. The tigress stepped easily over the tiny
stone wall.
"Our gratitude is boundless," Grelgen went on. "You
said you came to us for help." She executed a neat little
2OO
Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
2O1
pirouette in the air, delighting in her rediscovered mobility.
"What is it you wish to know?"
"We need directions to a certain town," he told her. "A,
place called Crancularn."
"Ah. An ambiguous destination. Not mine to
why. Wait here." She flew toward the village, droning
a wasp, and returned several minutes later with four newh
slimmed Elders. They settled on the wall. Between them,
the four Elders held a piece of parchment six inches
square. It was the biggest piece of writing material the
village could produce.
"Crancularn, you said?" Jon-Tom nodded at her.
She rolled up the sleeves of her burgundy-and-lime
dress, waved the wand over the parchment as she spoke.
The parchment twisted like a leaf in the wind. It continued
to quiver as a line of gold appeared on its surface, tracing
the outlines of mountains and rivers, trails, and paths.
None of them led directly toward the golden diamond that
shone brightly in the upper-lefthand corner of the parchment.
Grelgen finished the incantation. The parchment ceased
its shaking, allowing the concentrating Elders to relax their
grip. Jon-Tom picked the freshly inscribed map off the
grass. It was warm to the touch. One tiny spot not far from
a minor trail fluoresced brightly.
"The glow shows you where you are at any time,"
Grelgen informed him. "It will travel as you travel. Hold
fast to the map and you will never be lost." She rose on
diaphanous wings to hover near his shoulder and trace over
the map with her wand. "See? No easy journey from here
and no trails directly to the place."
"We're told Crancularn moves about."
"So it does. It has that characteristic. But the map will
take you there, never fear. This is the cartography of what
will be as well as of what is. A useful skill which we
rarely employ. We like it where we are."
Jon-Tom thanked her as he folded the map and slipped it
carefully into a pocket of his indigo shirt.
Grelgen hovered nearby. "Tell me, man. Why do you
go to Crancularn?"
"To shop for something in the Shop of the Aether and
Neither." She nodded, a grave expression on her tiny face.
"We've heard many rumors," he went on. "Is there
something dangerous about the shop?"
"Indeed there is, man. Included among its usual in-
ventory is a large supply of the Truth. That is something
most travelers seek to avoid, not to find. Beware what
purchases you make. There are bonuses and discounts to
be had in that place you may not find to your liking."
"We'll watch our step," he assured her.
She nodded solemnly. "Watch your hearts and souls as
well. Good luck to you, man, and to your companions.
Perhaps if you return by a similar route we can show you
the Cloud Dance." She looked wistful. "I may even
participate myself."
"Dancing in the air isn't as difficult as dancing on the
ground," said Folly.
Grelgen grinned at her. "That depends on what you're
doing in the air, infant." With great dignity she pivoted
and led the four Elders back to the village.
They were free, Jon-Tom knew, and so again were the
enchanted folk.
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
203
XII
The map led them out of the narrow defile that was the
enchanted canyon. Music and rhythmic grunts followed
them as they left behind a village full of fairies aerobicizing
like mad. Grelgen had a long way to go before she looked
like Jane Fonda but she was determined to out perform her
subjects, and Jon-Tom didn't doubt she had the willpower
to do so.
Several days' march through game-filled country brought
them over the highest mountain pass and down onto the
western slopes. Despite Grelgen's insistence that the jour-
ney the rest of the way to Cranculam would not be easy,
they were beginning to relax. Since leaving behind the
enchanted village they had encountered no dangerous ani-
mals or sapients, and food was plentiful.
Ahead lay the desert. Jon-Tom felt certain they could
cross it in a couple of days. AH was well.
No more bad dreams bothered him, and he awoke
refreshed and at ease. Fallen leaves had made a comfort-
able, springy bed. They were now back into deciduous
forest, having left most of the evergreen woods behind.
He pushed his cape aside. A few wisps of smoke still
202
rose from the remains of last night's fire. Roseroar snored
softly on the far side of the embers while Mudge dozed
nearby. That in itself was unusual. Normally the otter
woke first.
Jon-Tom scanned the rest of the camp and sat up fast.
"Jalwar? Folly!"
The woods did not answer, nor did anyone else.
He climbed to his feet, called again. His shouts roused
Mudge and Roseroar.
"Wot's amiss, mate?"
Jon-Tom gestured at the campsite. "See for yourself."
Mudge inspected the places where the missing pair had
slept. "They aren't off 'untin' for breakfast berries. All
their gear's gone."
"Could they have been carried off?" Jon-Tom muttered.
"Why would anybody bother to sneak in softly and steal
that pair away while leavin' us snug and in dreamland?"
Roseroar said. "Makes no sense."
"You're right, it doesn't. So they left on their own, and
with a stealthiness that implies premeditation."
"What?" she growled in confusion.
"Sorry. My legal training talking. It means they planned
to sneak out. Don't ask me why."
"Which way would they go?"
"Maybe there's a town nearby. I'll check the map." He
reached into his pocket, grasped air. A frantic, brief search
proved that the map was well and truly gone.
"Mudge, did you... ?"
The otter shook his head, his whiskers bristling in anger.
"You never gave it to me, guv'nor. I saw you put it up
yourself." He sighed, sat down on a rock, and adjusted his
cap, leaning the feather down at its usual rakish angle.
"Can't say as 'ow I'm surprised. That Corroboc might
'ave been a class-one bastard, but 'e knew wot 'e were
about when *e named that girl."
"ArTve been suspicious of her motives from the begin-
204
Alan Dean Foster
ning," Roseroar added. "We should have sold the little
bitch in Snarken, when we had the chance."
Jon-Tom found himself staring northwestward, through
the thinning forest toward the distant desert. "It doesn't
make sense. And what about Jalwar? He's gone, too, and
that makes even less sense. How can he get anywhere
without our help and protection?"