Jon-Tom resorted to questioning one of the guards. The
muskrat was barely four feet tall and wore his fur cut
fashionably short.
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
219
"Please, we're strangers here." He nodded toward the
desert. "Does this happen every year?"
"Twice a year," the guard informed him, bored. "A
grand sight the first time, I suppose."
"What's it for? Why does it happen?"
The muskrat scratched under his chin. "It is said that
these are the sands of time. All time. When they have run
their course, they must be turned to run again. Who turns
them, or why, no one knows. Gods, spirits, some great
being somewhere else who is bored with the task, who
knows? I am no sorcerer or scholar, visitor." He turned to
leave.
"Let 'im go, mate/' said Mudge. "I don't care wot it's
about. Runnin' for me life always tires me out. Me for a
spot o' sleep and somethin' to drink." He started down the
stairs. Jon-Tom and Roseroar followed.
"What do yo think happens heah?" the tigress asked
him.
"I imagine it's as the guard told us. The desert is some
kind of hourglass, holding all time within it." He gazed
thoughtfully at the sky. "I wonder: if you could stop the
mechanism somehow, could you stop time?" He turned
toward the glassy tower. "I'd sure like to have a look
inside that."
"Best not to," she told him. "Yo might find something.
Yo might find your own time."
He nodded. "Anyway, we have other fish to fry."
"Ah beg yo pahdon?"
"Jalwar and Folly. If everyone else is forced to seek
sanctuary here from the Conjunction, they would also. If
they weren't caught by the sand, they should be some-
where here in the city."
"Ah declah, Jon-Tom, ah hadn't thought o' that!" She
scanned the courtyard below.
"Unless," he went on, "they were far enough ahead of
us to have already crossed the desert."
"Oh," She looked downcast, then straightened. "No
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mattah. We'll find them." She began looking for an empty
place among the crowds. Probably the few city inns were
already full to overflowing with the wealthy among the
refugees. The city gates were open and some were already
filing back out into the desert.
"Yo know, somethin' just occurred to me, Jon-Tom.
This old Jalwah, ah'm thinkin' we've been underestimatin'
him all along. Do yo suppose he deliberately led us out
heah into this desert knowin' we didn't know about this
comin' Conjunction thing, and hopin' we might get oah-
selves killed?"
Jon-Tom considered only a moment. "Roseroar, I think
that's a very good possibility, just as I think that the next
time we meet up with our ferret friend, we'd better watch
our step very carefully indeed."
XIII
Inquiries in the marketplace finally unearthed mention of
Folly and Jalwar's passing. They were indeed several days
ahead of their pursuers, and yet they had rented no riding
animals. Apparently Jalwar was not only smarter than
they'd given him credit for, he was also considerably
stronger. The merchant who provided the information did
not know which way the ferret and the girl had gone, but
Jon-Tom remembered enough of the map to guess.
The desert reaches were much more extensive to north
and south. There was no way back to Snarken except via
Redrock. Therefore their earlier suppositions still held
true. Jalwar was making for Crancularn as fast as possible.
Roseroar's search for nighttime lodging was terminated.
There was no time to waste. Jon-Tom reluctantly allowed
Mudge to scavenge for supplies, and the travelers then beat
a hasty retreat from Redrock before their unwilling vict-
ualers could awaken to the discovery of their absent
inventory.
"Of course, we'll pay for these supplies on our way
back," Jon-Tom said.
"And 'ow do you propose we do that?" Mudge labored
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under his restocked pack. The desert was oddly cool
underfoot, the sand stable and motionless once again. It
was as though the grains had never been displaced, had
never moved.
"I don't know, but we have to do something about this
repeated steali—"
"Watch it, mate."
"About this repeated foraging of yours. Why do you
insist on maintaining the euphemisms, Mudge?"
The otter grinned at him. "For appearances' sakes,
mate."
"It troubles me as well," Roseroar murmured, "but we
must make use of any means that we can to see this thing
through."
"I know, but I'll feel better about it if we can pay for
what we've 'borrowed' on our way back."
Mudge sighed, shook his head resignedly. " 'Umans,"
he muttered.
Despite Jon-Tom's expectations, they did not catch up
to their quarry. They did encounter occasional groups of
nomads returning to their campsites, sometimes sharing
their camps for the night. All expressed ignorance when
asked if they had seen any travelers fitting Jalwar's or
Folly's description.
On the third day they had their first glimpse of the
foothills which lay beyond the western edge of the Timeful
Desert. On the fourth they found themselves hiking among
green grass, cool woodlands, and thick scrub. Mudge
luxuriated in the aroma and presence of running water,
while Roseroar was able to enjoy fresh meat once more.
On their first day in the forest she brought down a
monitor lizard the size of a cow with one swordthrust.
Mudge joined her in butchering the carcass and setting the
steaks to cook over a blaze of thin, white-barked logs.
"Smells mighty good," commented a strange voice.
Roseroar rose to a sitting position. Mudge peered around
THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE
223
the cookfire while Jon-Tom put aside the duar he'd been
strumming.
Standing at the edge of their little clearing in the trees
was a five-foot-tall cuscus, a bland expression on his pale
face. He was dressed in overlapping leather strips and
braids, snakeskin boots of azure hue, and short brown
pants. A single throwing knife was slung on each hip, and
he was scratching himself under the chin with his furless,
prehensile tail. As he scratched he leaned on the short staff
he carried. Jon-Tom wondered if, like his own, the visi-
tor's also concealed a short, deadly length of steel in the
unknobbed end. The visitor's fur was pale beige mottled
with brown.
He was also extraordinarily ugly, a characteristic of the
species, though perhaps a female cuscus might have thought
otherwise of the newcomer. He made no threatening ges-
tures and waited patiently.
"Come on in and have a seat." Jon-Tom extended
the
invitation only after Roseroar had climbed to her feet and
Mudge had moved close to his bow.
"That is right kind of you, sir. I am Hathcar." Jon-Tom
performed introductions all around.
Roseroar was sniffing the air, glanced accusingly down
at the visitor. "You are not alone."
"No, large she, I am not. Did I forget to mention it? I
am sorry and will now remedy my absentmindedness." He
put his lips together and emitted a sharp, high-pitched
whistle.
With much rustling of bushes a substantial number of
creatures stepped out into clear view, forming a line behind
the cuscus. They were an odd assortment, from the more
familiar rats and mice to bandicoots and phalangers. There
was even a nocturnal aye-aye, who wore large, dark
sunglasses and carried a short, sickle-shaped weapon.
Their clothes were on the ragged side, and their boots
and sandals showed signs of much usage. Altogether not a
prosperous-looking bunch, Jon-Tom decided. The presence
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of so many weapons was not reassuring. These were not
kindly villagers out for a daily stroll.
Still, if all they wanted was something to eat....
"You're welcome to join us," he told Hathcar. "There's
plenty for all."
Hathcar looked past him, to where Mudge was laboring
with the cooking. His tongue licked black lips.
"You are kind. Those of us who prefer meat haven't
made such a grand catch in many a day." He smiled as
best he could.
Jon-Tom gestured toward Roseroar. "Yes, she's quite
the huntress."
"She sizes the part. Still, there is but one of her and
many of us. How is it that she has been so successful and
we have not?"
"Skill is more important than numbers." One huge paw
caressed the hilt of a long sword.
Hathcar did not seem impressed. "Sometimes that can
be so, unless you are a hundred against one lizard."
"Sometimes," she agreed coolly, "but not always."
The cuscus changed the subject. ' 'What seek you strang-
ers in this remote land?"
"We're on a mission of importance for a great and
powerful wizard," Jon-Tom told him, "We go to the
village of Crancularn."
"Crancularn." Hathcar looked back at his colleagues,
who were hard-pressed to restrain their amusement. "That's
a fool's errand."
Jon-Tom casually let his fingers stray to his staff. He'd
had just about enough of this questioning, enigmatic visi-
tor. Either they wanted something to eat or they didn't,
and double-talk wasn't on the menu.
"Maybe you think we look like fools," Hathcar said.
All hints of laughter fled from the gang standing behind
him. Jon-Tom didn't reply, waited for what might come.
The cuscus's smile returned, and he moved toward the
fire. "Well, you have offered us a meal. That's a wise
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
225
decision. Certainly not one to be made by fools." He
pulled a throwing knife. "If I might try a bite? It looks
well done. My compliments to the cook." Mudge said
nothing.
Jon-Tom watched the visitor closely. Was he going to
cut meat with it... or throw it? He couldn't decide.
Something came flying through the air toward him. He
ducked and rolled, ending up on his feet holding the
ramwood staff protectively in front of him. Mudge picked
up his bow and notched an arrow into the string. Roseroar's
longswords flashed as they were drawn. All within a
couple of seconds.
Hathcar was careful not to raise the knife he now held.
Behind him, his colleagues gripped their own weapons
threateningly. But the cuscus was not glaring at Jon-Tom.
His gaze was on the creature who had come flying through
the air to land heavily next to the tall human.
The mongoose was clad entirely in black. It lay on its
belly, moaning. Strange marks showed on its narrow backside.
"Faset," Hathcar hissed, "what happened?" The mon-
goose rolled to look at him, yelped when its bruised pelvis
made contact with the ground.
"I happened." Everyone turned toward the voice.
The unicorn strolled casually into the clearing. It was
gold. Not the light gold of a palomino but a pure metallic
gold like the color of a coin or ring, except for white
patches on its forehead and haunches. It might have risen
from a vat of liquid gold except that Jon-Tom could clearly
see that the color was true, down to the shortest hair.
In its mouth it carried a small crossbow. This it dropped
at Jon-Tom's feet. Then it nodded meaningfully toward the
still groaning mongoose. Jon-Tom now recognized the
marks on the mongoose's pants. They were hoofprints.
Hathcar was beside himself as he glared furiously at the
unicorn. "Who the hell are you, four-foot? And who
asked you to interfere? This is none of your business."
The unicorn gazed at him out of lapis eyes, said coolly,
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THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
227
"1 am making it my business." He smiled at Jon-Tom.
"My name's Drom. I was grazing back in the woods when
I heard the talk. Ordinarily I would have ignored it, as I
ignored your presence." He nodded toward the mongoose,
who was trying to crawl back to its comrades while
avoiding Hathcar.
"However, I happened to chance upon this ebon worm
as he was aiming his little toy at your back." Drom raised
a hoof, brought it down on the crossbow. There was a
nodded toward Hathcar, "was right. This was none
of my business. I don't trouble to involve myself in
the affairs of you social types. But I can't stand to
see anyone backshot." He turned his magnificent head,
the thin golden goatee fluttering, and glared back at
Hathcar.
"Yo ah a true gentlemale, suh," said Roseroar approvingly.
"You should have stayed out of this, fool." Hathcar
moved quickly to join his gang. "Anyway, he lies. No
doubt this insect," and he kicked at the miserable Faset,
"was trying to put a bolt through you. But that has nothing
to do with me."
"You called him by name," Jon-Tom said accusingly.
"A casual acquaintance." Hathcar continued to retreat.
His backers muttered uneasily.
"Glad you don't know 'im, friend." Mudge's arrow
followed the cuscus's backpedaling. "I'd 'ate to think you
'ad anything to do with 'is little ambushcade."
"What about your invitation?" Hathcar wanted to know.
"I think we'd rather dine alone," Jon-Tom smiled
thinly. "At least until we can sort things out."
"That's not very friendly of you. It's not polite to
withdraw an invitation once extended."
"My back," the mongoose blubbered. "I think my
back is broken."
"Shut up, asshole." Hathcar k
icked him in the mouth
and blood squirted. The cuscus tried to grin at the tall
man. "Really, this thing has nothing to do with me." His
band was beginning to melt into the forest. "Always
hanging around, looking for sympathy. Sorry our visit
upset you. I understand." Then he too was gone, swallowed
by the vegetation.
Roseroar's ears were cocked forward. "They're still
movin' about," she murmured warily.
"Where?" Jon-Tom asked her.
"Back among the trees."
"They are spreading out in an attempt to encircle you,"
said the one-horned stallion.
"Permit me to congratulate you on your timely arrival,
mate." Mudge's eyes searched the woods as he spoke. "I
never sensed 'im."
"Nor did I," said Roseroar, sparing a glance for the
remains of the crossbow.
"I don't understand," Jon-Tom murmured. "We offered
them all the food they could eat."
"It wasn't just your food they were after." Drom kicked
the crossbow fragments aside. "I know that bunch by
reputation. They were after your weapons and armor, your
Fine clothes and your money."
Mudge let out a barking laugh. "Our money! Now
mat's amusin'. We haven't a copper to our names," he
lied.
"Ah, but they thought you did." The unicorn nodded
toward the forest. "Small comfort that would have been to
you if they had learned that afterwards."
"You're right there."
Roseroar was turning a slow circle, keeping the roasting
carcass at her back as much as possible. "They're still out
theah. Probably they think we can't heah them, but ah
can." She growled deep in her throat, a blood chilling
sound. "Our friend here is right. They're trying to get
behind us."
"And to surprise you. Hathcar did not show his full
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THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
229
strength. Many more of his band remained concealed while
he spoke to you."
Jon-Tom eyed the silent trees in alarm. "How many
more?' *
"A large number, though, of course, I am only guessing
based on what I could observe during my approach."
"We appreciate your help. You might as well take off
now. Our problems aren't yours."
"They are now," the unicorn to!d him. "These are
indifferent murderers, full of false pride. I have embarrassed
their leader in front of his band. Now he must kill me or
lose face and possibly his status as leader."
Roseroar strode toward the back of the clearing. "Move