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didn't think Hathcar would try to take revenge for his failure against the
girl or her parents.
 I still think you're pretty," the girl said to Drom. "Can I kiss
you good-bye? That's supposed to be good
luck."
Drom smacked his lips with evident distaste. "I'd prefer you
didn't, but if you must." He dropped his head, stood still for a buss just
below the right eye.
 Gen!" he muttered as she pulled away. "Now be on your way, human,
and count yourself fortunate this night."
 Good-bye, unicorn. Good-bye, strangers." She was still waving at
them as they disappeared back into the forest.
No armed mob of angry, frustrated bandits materialized to
interrupt their progress as they swung back to the west. With luck it would be
midday before Hathcar finally realized his plans had fallen through and
ventured to check on the ruins.
 I think I understand what was going on," Jon-Tom murmured. "The
girl was a virgin."
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 'Ere now, mate," Mudge protested, "I've been around meself, but
even I can't tell for certain just by lookin'."
 She'd have to have been for it to fit." He glanced down at their
mount. "She was a virgin, wasn't she, Drom?" Roseroar looked on curiously.
 The sight and scent of her suggested so," the stallion replied.
 I read something somewhere about the attentions of a virgin girl
being irresistible to a unicorn."
 An ancient and more-or-less accurate notion, which Hathcar was
counting on to draw me out. They would have succeeded with their plan except
for ignorance of one fact."
 Wot fact, mate?" Mudge asked.
Drom turned to look back at the otter. "I'm gay." He increased his
pace.
 Uh, 'ere now, mate, maybe we'd all be better off walkin' after
all."
Man Dean Foster
THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE
 Nonsense. We are still not far enough away from Hathcar's troop
to chance slowing down."
 That's debatable. Besides, there's no need for you to keep on
carryin' us about like this. Don't want to make you uncomfortable or nothin'."
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 It sounds to me as though you are the one who is feeling uneasy,
otter."
 Wot, me? Not me, guv'nor. It's just that I "
 What's wrong with you, Mudge?" Jon-Tom asked him. "I thought
you'd be glad of the chance to rest your precious feet."
 Relax, otter," the stallion said. "You are not my type. Now if
you happened to be a Percheron, or a Clydesdale, or maybe a shire..." He let
the images trail off.
 If you have to worry about something, think about Hathcar,"
Jon-Tom instructed the otter.
Mudge did so, though he still kept a wary eye on their mount.
Later, his confusion was broken by the sound of distant thunder. Or perhaps it
was only a bellow of outrage.
Silky's parents kept the money already paid to them by Hathcar,
and as Jon-Tom surmised, the cuscus did not try to take it back by force from
the heavily defended town. There seemed no way for him to vent his rage and
frustration until it occurred to him that since the girl had truly done her
best, if anything she actually deserved a bonus.
So it was that while Silky did not get her much-desired candy, she
was the only girl in the village who could look forward to the coming winter
confidently, clad as she was in her brand-new wolfskin coat.
The travelers stopped in late afternoon. The roast that Mudge had
risked his life to salvage was almost gone, but Roseroar soon brought in
enough fresh food for all. Drom nibbled contentedly at a nearby field of petal
pedals. Each blue-and-pink flower produced a different musical note when it
was munched.
Mudge ate close to Jon-Tom. "Don't it bother you,
mate?"
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 Don't... doesn't what bother me?"
The otter nodded toward the unicorn. " 'Im."
Jon-Tom bit into his steak. The meat was succulent and rich with
flavor. "He saved us once and might save us again. As for his personal sexual
preferences, I could care less. He'd be downright inconspicuous on Hollywood
Boulevard."
 Well, maybe you're right. Now, me, I knew it from the first. The
way 'e minced out of the woods toward us."
Drom overheard, lifted his muzzle, and said with dignity, "I do
not mince, otter. I prance." He looked at Jon-Tom. "You really believe your
former acquaintances will beat you to Crancularn and to the medicine you have
come for?"
 I hope not, but I fear it. They stole our only map."
 That is a small loss. Do not regret it." The unicorn crunched a
clump of purple ortnods with petals the shade . of enameled amethyst. The
flowers hummed as they were consumed. "I can guide you there."
 We were told it moves around."
 Only in one's imagination. There are those who stumble through it
without seeing it, or circle 'round it as if blind. So they say it has moved.
It does not move, but to find it you must wish to. I know. I was told by those
who could know. I will lead you to Crancularn."
 That's bleedin' wonderful," Mudge confessed aloud. He was mad at
himself. There was no reason for him to be nervous or wary in the unicorn's
presence. Drom was a likable chap, wasn't he, and Mudge didn't look in the
least like a shire horse, did he? And hadn't he always been told never to look
a gift unicorn in the mouth? He was upset with himself.
Hadn't the four-legs carried himself and Jon-Tom all this way from
Hathcar's territory without complaining? Why, with him galloping along and the
rest of them taking turns
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Alan Dean Poster
riding him, they might yet overtake that prick Jalwar and his
whore of a helpmate Folly.
They made rapid progress westward, but still there was no sign of
their former friends.
When they finally found themselves on the outskirts of Crancularn
itself, Jon-Tom found it hard to believe. He'd half come to think of the town
as existing only in Clothahump's imagination. Yet there it was.
Yes, there it was, and after too many close calls with death,
after crossing the Muddletup Moors and the Glittergeist Sea and innumerable
hills and vales, he was more than a little discouraged by the sight of it.
The setting was impressive enough: a heavily forested slope that
climbed the flank of a slowly smoking volcano. The town itself, however, was
about as awe-inspiring as dirty, homey Lynchbany. Tumble-down shacks and
ramshackle two-and three-story buildings of wood and mud crowded close to one
another as if fearful of encountering the sunlight. A dirty fog clung to the
streets and the angular, slate-roofed structures. As they headed toward the
town, a familiar odor made his nostrils contract: the thick musk of the
unwashed of many species mixed with the stink of an open sewer system. His
initial excitement was rapidly fading.
Massive oaks and sycamores grew within the town itself, providing
more shade where none was required and sometimes even shouldering buildings
aside. Jon-Tom was about to ask Drom if perhaps they might have come to the
wrong place when the unicorn reared back on its hind hooves and nearly dumped
him and Mudge to the ground. Roseroar snarled as she assumed a defensive
posture.
Coming straight at them, belching smoke and bellowing raggedly,
was a three-footed demon. A rabbit rode the demon's back. This individual wore
a wide-brimmed felt hat; a long-sleeved shirt of muslin, open halfway; and a
short mauve skirt similar to the kilts favored by the
intelligent arboreals of this world. His enormous feet were
unshod.
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The demon slowed as it approached. Jon-Tom drew in a deep breath
as it stopped in front of him and hastened to reassure his companions. "It's
all right. It can't harm you."
 How do yo know, Jon-Tom?" Roseroar kept her hands on her sword
hilts.
 Because I know what it is. It's a Honda ATC Offroad [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]