For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [95]
“Thank you all,” he said when the hands dropped. “Remember, this Number Twelve may hold the key to our vindication. We should proceed with that hope in mind. From this moment on, our entire energy will be devoted to gaining control over him.” He turned toward the doorway.
“We have to hurry. If the MOs find him first, they will ruin him for our purposes.”
The group dissolved in a rush of activity and fresh resolve that was matched in intensity only by the desperation that gave it life.
Chapter Fifteen
The city stank of human and other beings, of animals and exotic cooking, of resins and building materials old and new, all affected by the eternal dampness that permeated organic and inorganic materials alike. But it was all flowers and spice to Flinx. The transport car hissed to a halt outside the paneled exterior of the little bar and with the little credit remaining to him, he paid the machines. It responded with a mechanical “Thank you, sir” before drifting off up the street in search of its next fare.
Mother Mastiff leaned heavily against him as they made their way inside. Her ordeal had left her feeling her age, and she was very tired. So tired that she did not pull away from the snake riding high on Flinx’s shoulder.
Once inside, Pip uncoiled from its perch beneath the slickertic Lauren Walder had provided and made a snake-line for the bar itself. This place he knew. On the counter ahead sat bowls of pretzels, tarmac nuts, and other interesting salty delicacies that were almost as much fun to play with as to eat.
Flinx had deliberately brought them back to the marketplace via a zigzag, roundabout course, changing transports frequently, trying until the last moment to travel with other citizens. Try as he might, he had been unable to see any indication that they had been followed, nor had the minidrag reacted negatively to any of the travelers who had looked askance at the exhausted youth and the old woman with him. Still, it was this caution that prompted them to visit this bar before returning to the shop. It would be wise not to go home alone, and Small Symm, the bar owner, would be good company to have around when they again set palm print to the front-door lock. To some degree his physical talents matched those of Flinx’s mind.
As giants go, Small Symm was about average. He had been a friend of Flinx since the day of the boy’s adoption. He often bought interesting utensils from Mother Mastiff for use in his establishment.
An enormous hand appeared and all but swept the two travelers into a booth. At the long metal bar, patrons nervously moved aside to allow the acrobatic flying snake plenty of access to the pretzels.
“I’ve heard,” the young giant said by way of greeting, his voice an echo from deep within a cavernous chest, “that you were back. Word travels fast in the market.”
“We’re okay, Symm.” Flinx favored his friend with a tired smile. “I feel like I could sleep for a year, but other than that, we’re all right.”
The giant pulled a table close to the booth and used it for a chair. “What can I get for the two of you? Something nice and hot to drink?”
“Not now, boy,” Mother Mastiff said with a desultory wave of one wrinkled hand. “We’re anxious to be home. ’Tis your good company we’d make use of, not your beverages.” She turned quiet and let Flinx do the majority of the explaining.
Small Symm frowned, his brows coming together like clouds in the sky. “You think these people might still be after you?”
She almost started to say, “Tis not me they’re after,” and just did manage to hold her tongue. She still believed it was too soon to reveal to Flinx everything she had learned. Much too soon. “Unlikely but possible, and I’m not the type to tempt fate, the unkind bastard.”
“I understand.” Symm stood, his head just clearing the ceiling. “You would like some friendly companionship on your way home.”
“If you could spare the time,” Flinx said gratefully. “I really believe that we’re finished with these people.” He did not explain that he thought they were all dead. No need to complicate matters.