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he'd woke up without his "
Alan Dean Poster
 Roseroar," Jon-Tom chided her, "that's no way for a lady to
talk."
She showed sharp teeth, huge fangs. "That depends on the lady,
don't it, Jon-Tom?" Suddenly she pushed past him, frowning as she squinted
into the distance.
 What's wrong?" he asked, turned to look aft.
She spoke evenly, unafraid, and ready.
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 Looks like we ain't finished with ol' Corroboc yet."
IX
 Gel below, Jalwar," Jon-Tom told the ferret. "You'll be of no use
to us on deck."
 I must disobey, sir." The oldster had picked up a long fishing
gaff and was hefting it firmly. "I am not going back onto that floating
purgatory. I'd rather die here."
Jon-Tom nodded, held his staff ready in front of him. In planning
and executing their subtle flight from the pirate ship he'd forgotten one
thing. Forgotten it because he'd been in mis strange world so long he'd come
to think of it as normal. So when he'd planned their escape he hadn't
considered that they might have to deal with the fact that Corroboc and
several of his crew could fly.
There were only six of them. The captain must have threatened all
of them with dismemberment to force so small a group to make the attack.
Behind the parrot flew a couple of big ravens, a hawk, and a small falcon.
They were armed with thin spears and light swords.
Jon-Tom set the sloop on automatic pilot, which left him free to
join the fight. Jalwar thought the flashing red light of this new magic
fascinating.
The fliers were fast and agile. Corroboc in particular
might be short an eye and a leg, but there was nothing wrong with
his wings. He dove and twisted as he thrust, keeping just out of range of his
former prisoner's weapons. Nevertheless, it soon became clear that the pirates
were overmatched.
Corroboc's strategy was good. It called for his crew to stay just
beyond sword range while striking with their needlelike spears. It might even
have worked except for the one joker in the sloop's deck. With his longbow,
Mudge gleefully picked off first the falcon and then wounded one of the
ravens.
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This forced the attackers to close with their quarry, and their
agility couldn't compensate for their relatively small size. One of Roseroar's
spinning swords sliced the wounded raven in half. Then another of Mudge's
arrows pierced the hawk's thin armor. When he saw that he couldn't hope to win
either at long range or in close, Corroboc ordered a retreat.
 Have a care for your gullets, scum!" the parrot shouted at them
as he danced angrily in the air just out of arrow range. "I swear your fate be
sealed! The oceans, nay, the whole world be not big enough to hide you from
me. Wherever you run to old Corroboc will find you, and when he do, you'll
wish you'd never been borned!"
 Blow it out your arse, mate!" Mudge followed this with a long
string of insulting comments on the captain's dubious ancestry. Roseroar
listened with distaste.
 Such uncouthness! Ah do declah, it makes me queasy all ovah. Ah
do so long fo the refined conversation of civilized company."
The otter overheard and cast a dignified eye back at her. "Cor!
I'll 'ave you know, me elephantine kitten, that me language is as fucking
refined as anyone's!"
 Yes," she agreed sweetly. "Ah surely don't know how ah could have
thought otherwise."
Jon-Tom stepped between them. "What are you two
THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE
arguing about this time? We won, and we're safely on course
again."
A shaky, no longer cocky voice came from the gangway. "What...
what did we win? Who won?"
Jon-Tom remembered Folly. "Take the wheel, Roseroar."
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 Jon-Tom, if n yo want mah opinion, ah think !"
He disengaged the autopilot. The boat heeled sharply to port, and
Roseroar was forced to grab the wheel to keep it from spinning wildly.
Jon-Tom searched the gangway, finally discovered Folly huddled far
back in a lower bunk. Within the sloop's clean, quiet confines she looked
suddenly fragile. The iron collar was an ugly dark stain around her pale neck.
He studied it thoughtfully. The sloop was well stocked. If he
searched, he was certain he could find a hacksaw or something with which to
cut the metal.
 Relax, calm yourself." He spoke gently, soothingly. "You're free.
Just as I promised. Well, not completely free," he corrected himself, smiling
encouragingly. "You're still stuck with us. But you can forget about Corroboc.
You'll never have to worry about him again. I spellsang them to sleep. You
too. While they all slept, we escaped."
Her reply was halting. "Then... you are a wizard. And I doubted
you."
 Forget it. Sometimes I doubt it myself." She was swaying on the
bunk and he was suddenly concerned. "Hey, you don't look so good."
 I'm so tired...." She put her hand to her forehead and fell over
into his arms. He was acutely aware of her nakedness. Not to mention her
smell. Corroboc's ship was no paragon of good hygiene. Folly likely hadn't
bathed since she'd been taken captive.
He slipped a supportive arm around her back. "Come with me." He
helped her stumble toward the ship's head. "We'll let you get cleaned up. Then
we'll find some way to get that chunk of iron off you. While you're showering
Alan Dean Poster
I
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I'll see if I can find something for you to wear. There must be
clothes in one of the ship's storage lockers."
 I thank you for your kindness, sir."
He smiled again. "That's better. Just call me Jon-Tom." She
nodded, leaning against him. For a minute he thought she was going to break
down in his arms. She didn't. Not then, and not later. The first thing she'd
lost on Corroboc's ship was the ability to cry.
While she washed, he searched the ship's cabinets. One contained
familiar clothing. Familiar to him, but not to any of his companions. He made
a few selections and left them outside the shower, along with a hacksaw and a
file.
He'd expected to see an improvement, but he was still shocked when
she reappeared on deck later that afternoon.
She'd removed the iron collar. Her hair was combed out and pulled
back behind her. She stood there and looked down at herself uneasily.
 I must look passing strange in these peculiar garments.'*
 You'll get no argument on that from me, luv." The flabbergasted
Mudge moved closer to inspect the odd attire. "Strange sort o' material." He
ran a paw over one leg, reached higher. " 'Ere too."
 That's not material," she said angrily, knocking his questing
fingers away.
Mudge grinned as he dodged. "Fine-feelin' material to me, luv."
 You try that again, water rat, and I'll..."
Jon-Tom ignored them. The argument wasn't serious. Mudge was being
his usual obnoxious self, and he thought Folly realized it. Besides which he
was busy enough trying to sort out his own jumbled feelings.
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Folly was gorgeous. There was no other word for it. Young, but
beautiful, standing there on the deck in old JLevi's and a worn sweatshirt
that had SLOOP JOHN B. printed across the back. She looked so achingly normal,
so much like any girl he might encounter on the beach back
home, that for a moment he was afraid he would be the one to cry.
Only the fading but still visible bruises on her face and the ring
the collar had left around her neck reminded him of where he'd found her. He
would have to hunt for the sloop's first-aid kit. Or maybe he could think of a
good healing song, something more effective here than bandages and ointments,
Roseroar gave the new arrival a cursory once-over and snorted.
"Skinny little thing. Yo humans..." She turned her gaze to the stars mat were [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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