Alan Dean Foster SS3 The Day of the Dissonance

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his manner."
"Well, I be not in love with his naked features either, Mister Macreeg, but
they don't upset me liver. As for his manner" he threw Jon-Tom one of his
disconcertingly penetrating glances "what of your manner, man?"
"Anything you say, Captain sir," replied Jon-Tom as he dropped his eyes toward
the deck.
The parrot held the stare a moment longer. "Har, that be adequate. Not quite
servile enough yet, but that will come with time. You see?" He looked toward
the old sailor.
"There be nothing wrong in this. Music cannot harm us.
Can it, tall man? Because if I were to think for one instant that you were
trying to pull something peculiar on me..."
"I'm just a wandering minstrel, sir," Jon-Tom explained quickly. "All I want
is a chance to practice the profession for which I was trained."
"Har, and to save your fragile skin." Corroboc grunted.
"So be it." He leaned back in the gently swaying basket chair. Sasheem stood
nearby, cleaning his teeth with what looked like a foot-long icepick. Jon-Tom
knew if he sang anything even slightly suggestive of rebellion or defiance,
that sharp point would go through his offending throat.
He plucked nervously at the duar, and his first words emerged as a croak.
Fresh laughter came from the crew.
Corroboc obviously enjoyed his discomfiture.
"Sorry, sir." He cleared his throat, wishing for a glass of water but not
daring to chance the request. ' "This... this particular song is by a group of
minstrels who called themselves the Eagles."
Corroboc appeared pleased. "My cousins in flight, though
I chose to fly clanless. Strong, but weak of mind. I never cared much for
their songmaking, as their voices be high and shrill."
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"No, no," Jon-Tom explained. "The song is not by eagles, but by men like
myself who chose to call them-
selves that."
"Strange choice of names. Why not call themselves the
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Alan Dean Foster
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
129
Men? Well, it be of no matter. Sing, minstrel. Sing, and lighten the hearts of
my sailors and myself."
"As you command, Captain sir," said Jon-Tom. And he began to sing.
The duar was no Fender guitar, but the words came easily to him. He began with
"Take It Easy." The long high notes rolled smoothly from his throat. He
finished, swung instantly into the next song he'd carefully chosen.
Corroboc's eye closed and the rest of the crew started to relax. They were
enjoying the music. Jon-Tom moved on to "Best of My Love," then a medley of
hits by the
Bee Gees.
Nearby, Mudge blinked as he slapped varnish on wind-
scoured wood. "Wot's 'e tryin' to do?"
"Ah don't know," said Roseroar. "Ah heah no mention of powerful demons oah
spirits."
Only Jalwar was smiling as he worked. "You aren't supposed to, and neither are
the ruffians around us. Listen!
Don't you see what he's up to? Were he to sing of flight or battle that
leopard would lay open his throat in an instant.
He knows what he's doing. Don't listen to the words.
They're doing as he intends. Look around you. Look at the crew."
Mudge peered over his shoulder. His eyes widened.
"Blimey, they're fallin' asleep!"
"Yes," said Jalwar. "They wait ready for the slightest hint of danger, and
instead he lulls them with lullabies.
Truly he is a master spellsinger."
"Don't say that, mate," muttered Mudge uneasily. "I've seen 'is nibs go wrong
just when 'e thought 'e 'ad it right." But though he hardly dared believe, it
was looking more and more as if Jon-Tom was going to bring it off.
The spellsinger was now wending his lilting way through
"Peaceful Easy Feeling." "See," whispered Jalwar ex-
citedly through clenched, sharp teeth, "even the armpit of a captain begins to
go!"
No question but that Corroboc was slumped in the chair.
Sasheem yawned and sat down beside him. They made an unlovely couple.
All around the deck the crewmembers were blinking and
yawning and falling asleep where they stood. Only the three prisoners remained
awake.
"We are aware of what he is doing," Jalwar explained, "and in any case the
magic is not directed at us."
"That's good, guv'nor." Mudge had to work to stifle a yawn, blinked in
surprise. "Strong stuff 'e's workin'."
By the time Jon-Tom sang the final strains of "Peace-
ful Easy Feeling," the pirate ship was sailing aimlessly. Its bloodthirsty
crew lay snoring soundly on the deck, in the hold below, and even up in the
rigging. He took a step toward Corroboc and ran his eyes over the captain's
attire without finding what he was hunting for. Then he joined his friends.
"Did any of you see where he put his keyring?"
"No, mate," Mudge whispered, "but we'd best find
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'em fast."
Jon-Tom started for the door leading to the captain's cabin, then hesitated
uncertainly. Once inside, where would he look? There might be a sealed chest,
many drawers, a hidden place beneath a nest or mattress, and the keyring might
not even be kept in the cabin. Maybe Sasheem had charge of the keys, or maybe
one of the other ship's officers.
He couldn't go looking for them and still sing the sleep spell. Already some
of the somnolent crew were beginning to stir impatiently. And he didn't have
the slightest idea how long the spellsong would remain in effect.
"Do somethin', mate!" Mudge was tugging uselessly on his own ankle chains.
"Where should I look for the keys? They're not on the captain." Suddenly words
in his mind, suggestive of something once remembered. Not suggestions of a
place to hunt for keys, but snatches of a song.
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Alan Dean Poster
A song about steel cat eyes and felines triumphant.
About "The Mouse Patrol That Never Sleeps," a lethal little bloodthirsty ditty
about an ever-watchful carnivorous kitty. Or so he'd once described it to a
friend.
He sang it now, wishing lan Anderson were about to accompany him on the flute,
the words pouring rapidly from his lips as he tried to concentrate on the tune
while keeping a worried eye on the comatose crew.
The section of anchor chain that had been used to bind
Roseroar suddenly cracked and fell away. She looked in amazement at the broken
links, then up at Jon-Tom.
Wordlessly, she went to work on the much thinner chains restraining her
companions. Mudge and Jalwar were freed quickly as immense biceps strained.
They vanished below-
decks as she worked on Jon-Tom's bindings. By the time she'd finished freeing
him, the otter and ferret had reappeared.
Mudge's longbow was slung over his shoulder and his face was almost hidden by
the burden of the tigress's armor.
Jalwar dragged her heavy swords behind him, panting hard.
They turned and raced for the tow rope attached to the
John B. Only Jon-Tom lingered.
"Come on," Roseroar called to him. "What ah yo waitin' fo?"
He whispered urgently back to her. "The girl! I promised."
"She don't care what yo do. She'll only be trouble."
"Sorry, Roseroar." He turned and rushed for the nearest open hatch.
"Damn," the tigress growled. She pushed past him, vanished below. While he
waited he sang, but the spellsong was beginning to surrender its potency.
Several sailors rolled over in their sleep, snuffling uneasily.
Then a vast white-and-black shape was pushing past him, the limp naked form of
Folly bouncing lightly on one shoulder like a hunting trophy. Jon-Tom's heart
stopped for a second, until he saw that her condition was no different
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
131
from that of the rest of die ship's complement. His spell-
singing had put Folly to sleep also.
"Satisfied?" Roseroar snarled.
"Quite." He muffled a grin as he raced her to the stern.
Mudge and Jalwar were just boarding the sloop, Mudge having negotiated the
short swim with ease, while Jalwar displayed typical ferret agility by walking
the swaying tow rope all the way down to the boat. Roseroar was about to step [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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