Flinx Transcendent_ A Pip & Flinx Adventure - Alan Dean Foster [125]
That explained why they had not come to his aid, Flinx surmised. It did nothing, however, to explain how and why Sylzenzuzex had done so.
“You'll have to tell me all about it,” he responded, “when we get back to Sphene.”
“Wait!” As Tse-Mallory tried to maintain the link, Flinx cut his old mentor off—something he would never have thought of doing as recently as just a few years ago. But he was tired and sore, and concerned for both himself and for Clarity. There would be plenty of time for conversation and reflection later, once they were safely away from both New Riviera and the murderous Order of Null.
A hand touched his shoulder. Looking around, he saw Clarity gazing up at him. “Thanks for closing the conversation. Your fatherly friends are wonderful, and caring, and they watched over me all through my long convalescence.” She smiled ruefully. “But they do like to talk.”
“I know. Just, whatever you do, don't ever call Bran Tse-Mallory ‘fatherly’ Or Truzenzuzex either, for that matter.” On his shoulder Pip was squirming for attention. When he turned to eye his serpentine companion, she lifted her upper body away from him and used her head to point.
“O'Morion's Mother!” he exclaimed contritely. “I forgot about Scrap.”
The transparent container that restrained the young minidrag might be fashioned of impervious material, but it was secured by a pair of straightforward mechanical latches. Flinx unsnapped them and opened the box. Wind from the flying snake's humming wings brushed the human's hair as the Alaspinian rocketed past his liberator's face. Darting about like an oversized hummingbird, the joyful minidrag swarmed Clarity.
“All right, all right!” she laughed. “I'm glad you're out of that box, too!”
Reassured that his human was unhurt, Scrap zipped over to confront the more mature minidrag resting on Flinx's shoulder. Pip snapped playfully at her offspring as the other flying snake nipped in and out, his pointed tongue flicking at her as he danced blissfully in the static air of the circular chamber. Eventually exhausting himself, he finally settled back down on Clarity's right shoulder. Reaching up and stroking him, she cooed softly to her pet as he folded his multihued wings against his ribs and rubbed his head against her bare neck.
Flinx walked over to Sylzenzuzex as she finished securing the last of the recovering Order members. Turning toward him, she gestured with a poise and confidence that had not been present in the young padre-elect whose insecurities he well recalled from a decade ago.
“Don't worry,” she assured him in perfect, crackling symbospeech. “I've been careful to disarm them all, and in any case they are well bound, kss!lpp. A task that is much simpler when one is securing beings with only four limbs instead of the normal eight.” She indicated her communit. “I have summoned a security team to take them into custody.” Gleaming in the light from overhead, golden compound eyes looked back into his own single-lensed oculars.
“I wasn't worrying about your work,” he told her. “You still haven't explained your sudden, unexpected, and extraordinarily timely reappearance in my life.”
She whistled archly: thranx laughter. “I can see where you would find it something of a surprise.” She gestured with a truhand. “But I'm afraid the explanation is entirely prosaic.
“A couple of years ago, as a matter of family and clan etiquette, I finally made contact with my Elder Eighth-Once-Removed, the esteemed Eint Truzenzuzex. A polite correspondence ensued. Limited, as you would expect, by the twin exigencies of distance and expense. In the course of this ongoing communication he mentioned that he was in regular and close contact with someone who turned out to be a mutual acquaintance—you.”
Flinx nodded. “I remember my surprise years ago when you told me you were related to Tru.”
She gesticulated understanding. “Time passed. Among the many postings available to those