"I never dreamed..." he began, only to be interrupted
by the proprietress.
"Oh, but you have dreamed, shopper. Everyone dreams."
She gestured with a negligent wave. "There are a lot of
worlds in the plenum. Some produce a lot of goods for
sale, others only a few. I try to keep up with what the major
dimensions are doing. It isn't an easy job, being a shopkeeper.
There's one place where time runs backwards. Plays hell
with my inventory."
Jon-Tom continued to gape at the endless rows. "How
258
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
259
do you know what you've got here, let alone where it's
located?"
"Oh, we're very up-to-date in the store." From a side
pocket she extracted a length of bright blue metal six
inches long and two and half an inches thick. A transparent
facing ran the length of it. There were no buttons or
switches visible.
"Pocket computer." She showed it to Jon-Tom. As he
watched, words scrolled rapidly across the face. Lan-
guages and script changed as he stared. Twice Snooth
turned it vertically and the words scrolled from top to
bottom. Several times they reversed and traveled from
right to left. Once there were no letters at all, only colors
changing in sequence. Once there was only music.
"Thought-activated. Handy little gadget. Bought it from
a place whose location can't be determined, only inferred.
Very talented folks there. See?"
A chemical formula appeared on the transparent facing
and froze in position. A long numerical sequence appeared
below it.
"Down this way." Snooth hopped off to her left, even-
tually turned down an aisle.
Roseroar stared at the endless ranks of goods. "How
many shelves do y'all have down heah?"
"Can't really say," the kangaroo replied. "It changes
all the time."
"You run this whole place by yourself?" Jon-Tom asked her.
She nodded. "You get used to it. I like stockwork, and
the perks are good."
"How far is the medicine?"
"Not far. Only about half a day's hop. Any longer and
I'd have paused to pack us a meal or dig out a scooter."
"Is that anything like the Honda ATC we saw one of
your customers riding around outside of town?"
"That'd be Foharfa's toy. He's going to break his neck
on that thing one of these days. No, a scooter's just an
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Alan Dean Poster
inertialess disc. You guide it by sensing your relationship
to the local planetary magnetic field."
Jon-Tom swallowed. "I'm afraid I don't have a license
to drive anything like that."
"No matter. I'm enjoying the walk."
"Can we buy one to get us 'ome, maybe?" Mudge
asked hopefully.
"Sorry. I've none in general stock. Besides, I make it a
rule not to let certain goods travel beyond Crancularn. The
world's a complicated enough place as it is. You can
overtechnologize magic if you're not careful."
"Looks like your business is rather slow," observed
Drom.
Snooth shrugged in mid-hop. "I'm not looking to get
rich, unicorn. I just like the business, that's all. Besides,
it's a good way to keep up with what's going on in the
greater cosmos. Goods are better than gossip and more
honest reflections of what's happening elsewhere than
official news pronouncements and zeeways."
"Must be 'ard on profits," Mudge commented.
"That depends on what kind of profit you're trying to
make, otter."
Jon-Tom eyed the kangaroo uneasily. "That's a funny
thing for a shopkeeper to say. Are you sure you aren't
some kind of sorceress yourself?"
"Who, me?" Snooth appeared genuinely shocked. "Not
I, sir. Too many responsibilities, too many regulations
attached to the profession. I prefer my present employ-
ment, thank you. And the cost-of-living in Crancularn is
low." A pause, then, "What about this ferret and girl you
referred to earlier?"
"They were traveling with us," Jon-Tom explained.
"We had an unfortunate parting of the ways."
"Unfortunate, 'ell!" Mudge rumbled. "The dirty bug-
gers stole our map, they did, and it were only by dint o'
good luck and this spellsinger's determination and this
one-horn's knowledge o' the lay o' the land that we ...!"
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
261
Snooth interrupted him, smiling at Jon-Tom. "So you
are a spellsinger? I noticed the duar you carry right off, but
I imagined you to be no more than a traveling musician."
"I'm still an amateur," Jon-Tom confessed. "I'm still
learning how to control my abilities."
"I think one day you will, though I sense you still have
along way logo."
"It's just that it's so new to me. The magic, not the
music. Everything's so new to me. I'm not of this world."
"I know. You smell of elsewhere. Do not let your
transposition faze you. Newness is life's greatest pleasure
and delight." She indicated the shelves wailing them in.
"Every new product I encounter is a source of wonder-
ment to me."
"1 wish I could share your enthusiasm. But I can't help
my homesickness. You can't, by any chance, send me
home by the same means you use to stock your goods?"
he asked hopefully.
"I am truly sorry," Snooth told him softly, and it struck
him that she was. "This is only a receive-and-disperse
operation. I can only ship products, not people."
Jon-Tom slumped. "Well, it's no more than what I
expected. Clothahump said as much."
"You must tell me about your travels. Oddly, I know
more about many other worlds than about this one. The
result of being tied to my business."
So partly to please her and partly to help relieve his own
disappointment, Jon-Tom regaled her with a recitation of
the adventures they had experienced during their long
journey. It took at least the half day Snooth had claimed
before she finally called the march to a halt. Jon-Tom
looked down the aisle. They stili were not in sight of its
end.
Strange medications filled bottles and jars and contain-
ers of unfamiliar material. The twenty-foot-high shelves
they had halted before represented a cosmological phar-
macopia. Jon-Tom made out pills and drops, salves and
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Alan Dean Foster
unguents, bandages and bindings, scattered among less
recognizable items.
Snooth regarded the shelving for a moment, consulted
her blue metal bar, and hopped a few yards farther down
the aisle. Then she climbed one of the motorized ladders
that ran from the topmost shelf to tracks cut in the stone
floor and ascended the shelving halfway.
"Here we are," she said, sounding gratified. She opened
an ordinary cardboard box and removed a small plastic
container. "Only one. I'll have to restock this item. I don't
have the room to keep more than one of any item on the
shelves. There are instructions on the side which I presume
your wizard will know how to interpret."
"I'm sure he will," Jon-Tom said, reaching relievedly
for the container.
"Stop right there, please."
Jon-Tom whirled. Roseroar growled and reached for her
swords as Mudge tried to ready his longbow.
"Don't!"
A figure emerged from behind a translucent crate
containing frozen flowers and came toward them. In his
hands Jalwar held something resembling a multiple cross-
bow. At least three dozen lethal-looking little darts were
clustered in concentric circles at the tip of the weapon.
"Poison. Enough to kill all of you at once. Even you,
mistress of long teeth." Roseroar continued to glower at