Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [15]
They were directed to a tiny shopfront set in a stone building lined with narrow shuttered doorways, like vertical shingles. There was no name above the portal, which was embellished with many words written in scripts alien to Ehomba. The more worldly Simna recognized bits of two different languages, and by combining those words he knew from each, he was able to divine some meaning, like reconstituting juice from concentrate.
“‘Moleshohn the All-Knowing,’” he translated for his companion. “‘Comprehender of Worlds and Provider of Sage Mandates.’” He sniffed. “Let’s see what he has to offer.”
“How will we compensate him for his services?” Ehomba wondered.
The swordsman sighed. “After paying for our passage across the Aboqua I still have some Chlengguu gold left. More than enough to satisfy some substandard waterfront wise man, anyway.”
The door was not latched, and a small bell rang as they entered. The unpretentious front room contained a dusty clutter of incunabula, a table piled high with old books of dubious extraction, and a great deal of spoiling food and stale clothing. It did not look promising.
The individual who emerged from a back room popped out to greet them like a badger winkling its way free of a too-small burrow. Moleshohn the All-Knowing’s appearance reflected far more prosperity than did his environment. Short and slim, he had a narrow face, bright ferret-eyes, a goatee that appeared to have been grafted onto his pointed chin from a much larger man, flowing gray hair, and more rapid hand movements than a professional shuffler of cards. The air in the modest room was stagnant until he entered. His ceaseless, highly animated waving stirred both it and innumerable dust particles into torpid motion.
“Welcome, welcome, progenitors of a thousand benevolences! What can I do for you?” He did not so much sit as throw himself into the chair behind the table. Ehomba thought the worried wood would collapse from the impact, but the seat and back held. “You need a cheating lover found?” The seer smirked knowingly at Simna. “You seek gainful employment in Lybondai? You want to know the best inn, or where to find the sauciest wenches? The nature of mankind troubles you, or you have acquired some small but embarrassing disease that requires treatment?”
“We have lost something.” Ehomba did not take a seat. Given a choice, herdsmen often preferred to stand. There was only one other chair in the room anyway, and Simna had already requisitioned it.
“Do say, do say.” As he spoke, Moleshohn was rapidly tapping the tips of his fingers against one another.
“To digress for just a second,” a curious Simna responded, “but what is the nature of mankind?”
“Confused, my friend.” The seer extended an open palm. “That will be one half a gold Xarus, please.”
“We are not through.” Ehomba frowned at his companion, who shrugged helplessly.
“I always wanted to know that.”
“I am no oracle, Simna, and I could have answered that question for you.” Looking back at their host, the herdsman explained their purpose and their need.
“I see, I see.” Moleshohn’s fingers tapped a lot faster now that he had something of substance to consider. “Very large, is it, with the legs of a different sort of great feline altogether?”
Ehomba nodded. “That, and it can speak the general language of men.”
“A remarkable animal, to be sure, to be sure. And you say it was taken from you, abducted, by this Haramos bin Grue?”
“He’s a slick bastard,” Simna informed the seer. “But this all happened only yesterday, so we don’t think he can have gone far. Not with Ahlitah as unwilling freight.”
“I would think both would still be in the city.” Ehomba seemed mildly indifferent to the proceedings, but Simna knew his friend better. “It would take time to find the proper buyer for something like the litah. Nor would a trader as clever as bin Grue accept the first offer to come along. He will seek to get the best price for his acquisition.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, you are in luck.