For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [102]
“Take it easy, now,” the man said. A voice Flinx could not hear whispered to the speaker from behind the door.
“For heaven’s sake, Anders, don’t get him excited!”
“I’m trying not to,” the elderly speaker replied through clenched teeth. To Flinx he said more loudly. “No one wants to harm you or your pet, boy. You can have my word on that even if you don’t think it’s worth anything. My friends and I mean you and your pet only well.” He did not respond to Flinx’s brief allusion to his adoptive mother’s past.
“Then if you mean us only well,” Flinx said, “you won’t object if I take a minute to go and reassure—”
The speaker took a step forward. “There’s no need to disturb your parent, boy. In a moment she’ll have her shop open and the crowd will ensure her safety, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Why alarm her needlessly? We just want to talk to you. Besides,” he added darkly, taking a calculated risk, “you don’t have any choice but to listen to me. Not if you want to see your pet alive again.”
“It’s only a pet snake.” Flinx affected an air of indifference he didn’t feel. “What if I refuse to go with you? There are plenty of other pets to be had.”
The speaker shook his head slowly, his tone maddeningly knowledgeable. “Not like this one. That flying snake’s a part of you, isn’t it?”
“How do you know that?” Flinx asked. “How do you know how I feel about him?”
“Because despite what you may think of me right now,” the speaker said, feeling a little more confident, “I am wise in the ways of certain things. If you’ll let me, I’ll share that knowledge with you.”
Flinx hesitated, torn between concern for Pip and a sense of foreboding that had nothing to do with his peculiar Talents. But the man was right: there was no choice. He wouldn’t chance Pip’s coming to harm even though he couldn’t have said why.
“All right.” He started toward the speaker. “I’ll go with you. You’d better be telling the truth.”
“About not wishing to harm you or your pet?” The smile grew wider. “I promise you that I am.”
Try as he might, Flinx couldn’t sense any inimical feelings emanating from the little man. Given the erratic nature of his abilities, that proved nothing—for all Flinx could tell, the man might be planning murder even as he stood there smiling. Up close, the speaker looked even less formidable. He was barely Flinx’s height, and though not as ancient as Mother Mastiff, it was doubtful he would be much opposition in a hand-to-hand fight.
“This is my friend and associate Stanzel,” the man said. An equally elderly woman stepped out of the shadows. She seemed tired but forced herself to stand straight and look determined.
“I don’t want to hurt you, either, boy.” She studied him with unabashed curiosity. “None of us do.”
“So there are still more of you,” Flinx murmured in confusion. “I don’t understand all this. Why do you have to keep persecuting Mother Mastiff and me? And now Pip, too? Why?”
“Everthing will be explained to you,” the woman assured him, “if you’ll just come with us.” She gestured up the alley.
Flinx strode along between them, noting as he did so that neither of them appeared to be armed. That was a good sign but a puzzling one. His stiletto felt cold against his calf. He looked longingly back toward the shop. If only he could have told Mother Mastiff! But, he reminded himself, as long as he returned by bedtime, she wouldn’t worry herself. She was used to his taking off on unannounced explorations.
“Mark me words,” she would declaim repeatedly, “that curiosity of yours will be the death of ye!”
If it didn’t involve striking against Mother Mastiff, though, then what did these people want with him? It was important to them, very important. If not, they wouldn’t have risked an encounter with his deadly pet. Despite their age, he still feared them, if only for the fact that they had apparently managed to capture Pip, a feat beyond the capabilities of most.
But something, an attitude perhaps, marked these people as different from the