For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [111]
“Some people kidnaped Pip. They called themselves Meliorares. But they really wanted me. They—” His expression screwed tight as he remembered, “One of them said something about wanting to fix me. Fix what? What did they want with me?”
She considered a long moment, studying the boy. Truly, it appeared that he was telling the truth, that he had learned no more than what he said. Ignoring the proximity of the hated flying snake, she sat down and put an arm around his shoulders.
“Now mark me well, boy, because this is vital to ye. I don’t have to tell ye that you’re different. You’ve always been different. Ye have to hide that as best ye can, and we’ll have to hide ourselves. Drallar’s a big place. We can move the shop if need be. But you’re going to have to learn to live quietly, and you’re going to have to keep your differences to yourself, or we’ll be plagued with more of this unwelcome and unwholesome attention.”
“It’s all so silly, Mother. Just because I can sometimes sense what other people are feeling?”
“That. And maybe more.”
“There isn’t anything more. That’s all I can do.”
“Is it, boy? How did ye get away from these people.” She looked past him toward the street, suddenly concerned. “Will they be coming after ye again?”
“I don’t think so. Most of them were kind of dead when I left. I don’t know how I got away from them. I think one of them shot at something explosive and it blew up. I was blown clear out of a building and into the street.”
“Lucky to be alive ye are, it seems, though by what providence I wonder. Maybe ’tis best this way. Maybe ’tis best ye don’t know too much about yourself just yet. Your mind always was advanced of your body, and maybe there’s something more that’s advanced even of that.”
“But I don’t want to be different,” he insisted, almost crying. “I just want to be like everyone else.”
“I know ye do, boy,” she said gently, “but each of us must play the cards fate deals us, and if you’ve been stuck with the joker, you’ll just have to learn to cope with it, turn it to your advantage somehow.”
“I don’t want any advantage! Not if it’s going to cause us this kind of trouble.”
“I’ll have none of that, boy! A difference can always be to one’s advantage. ’Tis time ye chose a profession. I know you’ve no like for running a shop like this one. What is it ye like to do?”
He mulled it over a while before replying. “All I enjoy doing is making other people happy.”
She shook her head sadly. “Sometimes I think you’ve not enough self-interest to keep yourself alive. However, if that’s what ye like, then you’ll have to find some way to earn a living at it.”
“Sometimes I dream of becoming a doctor and healing people.”
“I’d advise ye to set your sights a bit lower, boy.”
“All right. An actor, then.”
“Nay, not that low. Be sensible. Set yourself to something ye can do now, without years of study.”
“I could perform right here in the marketplace,” he said thoughtfully. “I can juggle pretty good. You’ve seen me.”
“Aye, and yelled at ye often enough for practicing with my expensive baubles. But ’tis a sound thought. We must find ye a good street corner. Surely ye can’t get into trouble performing before these simple locals.”
“Sure! I’ll go and practice right now.”
“Easy, boy, easy. You’re nearly asleep on your feet, and I’ll not have ye breaking either my goods or yourself. Go inside and lie down. I’ll be in soon to fix ye something to eat. Go on now, boy, and be sure and take your monster with ye.”
Cradling the exhausted Pip in his hands, Flinx rose and made his way through the displays to the section of the shop that served as their home. Mother Mastiff’s eyes followed him.
What was to become of the boy? Somehow he had come to the attention of powerful, dangerous people. At least there was a good chance they wouldn’t be bothered for a while. Not if he had left them “kind of dead.”
How had he escaped? Sometimes he still frightened her. Oh, not because