Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [111]
“I’m sure that’ll be okay.” Grinning tensely, the swordsman turned to look at the nonchalant Ahlitah. “Won’t it?”
The big cat’s face twitched slightly. It might have been a shrug. “I’d as soon not smell humans.”
“And I will stay with him.” Ehomba was no longer smiling at their hostess. “I know you have your policies. Please do not concern yourself on my account. I prefer a hard bed to a soft one in any case, as my companions can tell you.”
“Fine, good!” Muttering softly, Simna turned away from him. “I suppose you expect me to show solidarity by joining you in sharing the delights of the barn?”
“Not at all,” Ehomba told him. “You should enjoy your comforts where you can find them.”
“That’s good to hear, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The swordsman was insistent. “After that climb out of Bondressey I want to soak in a hot tub, and lie between clean sheets, and awaken warm and rested.”
“As well you should.” Ehomba looked past him and inquired politely, “Around the back of the inn, you said?” Arms folded, the hostess nodded sternly.
“Sleep well,” Simna told him sarcastically. “Knucker and me here—we’re sure going to. Aren’t we, friend?”
“I hope so,” the little man ventured uncertainly.
“Right! Come on, then.” Putting an arm around the hesitant Knucker, the swordsman started past the proprietress and up the hall. “If you would show us to our room, m’dear?”
“Gladly.” Favoring Ehomba with a last disapproving look, she turned and took the lead from the two smaller men.
“Out, back, and around.” Pivoting, Ehomba led the way back out through the entrance. The litah rose and followed.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” the big cat told him as they trooped down the front steps and turned to their right.
“I know that.”
“I’m not asking you to keep me company. I enjoy my solitude.”
“I know that also. I meant what I said about town beds being too soft. Straw will be better for me.”
“Suit yourself. It makes no difference to me.” Ahlitah was silent until they reached the stable. It was as sturdy and well made as every other building they had encountered in the village—even if it was intended only for the housing of filthy animals. “What about this ‘townsparty’ tonight?”
“The woman’s sharp reaction to you may have been an anomaly, but I think it would be better to take no chances. If these people will not allow filthy animals to stay in their inn, I have a strong feeling that they will not embrace them at their social gatherings.”
Entering the stables, the litah began to hunt for a suitable resting place to spend the night. “You are probably right, Etjole Ehomba. I wonder how they feel about entertaining filthy humans?”
“From the woman’s tone of voice I think she was referring only to matters of personal hygiene when she used the word ‘filthy.’ My fear is that bounded emotions may run deeper and nastier than that.”
Poking his head into an empty stall, Ahlitah grunted. “Wouldn’t surprise me. I’ll stay here and catch up on some sleep.” He snorted and shook his head, the great black mane swishing back and forth like a gigantic dust mop. “I have been behind on my sleep ever since we left the veldt.” Satisfied, he looked up curiously. “Are you going?”
“I have to. Not because I particularly want to, although in spite of their prejudice this is an interesting place, but because I feel it necessary to keep an eye on Simna. When he is not careful of what he says, his mouth can get him into trouble.”
“He and I almost have something in common, then. I like to put trouble in my mouth.” He emitted a silky growl. “Here’s a good place.”
Together, they flopped down on the thick pile of hay. It was a recent threshing, still soft and pliable, with a good view of both the front and back entrances to the stables. There Ehomba would rest until suppertime. After that would come the townsparty, which he, as traveler and guest, would attend. So long as he was there to keep Simna’s mouth full of food, he knew, the swordsman