Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [87]
Ehomba glanced up at his companions. Ahlitah was ignoring everything while he concentrated on matters of individual feline hygiene. Simna snorted derisively and turned away. The herdsman looked back at the pathetic figure cowering before him.
“You did not see what happened?”
Knucker made an effort to peer around the kneeling form of the tall southerner. The effort would have caused him to keel over had not Ehomba reached out to steady him.
“Something’s happened?” Wispy brows drew together. “Who are you, anyway? And why are you standing out here at night in the middle of the street?” He blinked again. “Why am I out here at night in the middle of the street?”
“We found you lying moaning in a close.” Ehomba was gentle and patient. “It was after midnight and so we . . .”
Fear snapped Knucker’s eyes wide open. “After midnight?” Looking around wildly, he tried to rise and failed, having to rely on Ehomba’s strong arm to steady him once again. “We’ve got to get off the street, find shelter! The—”
“We know, we know.” The herdsman shifted his supportive hand from the little man’s waist to his upper arm. “I think it will be all right for a while, and there is a boardinghouse close by. Come.” Rising, he helped Knucker erect.
“You don’t understand,” the drunkard was babbling apprehensively. “After midnight, there are things abroad in Phan. Bad things. They come out of the darkness and—”
Ignoring the coating of filth that helped to keep the man warm, Ehomba put a steadying arm around the scrawny back. “But we do understand, friend Knucker. We do understand. Thanks to you.”
“To me?” Total confusion washed over the grimy, unshaven face. “What did I do? Who are you people?” As Ehomba gently shepherded him toward the unwinking, welcoming light of the boardinghouse and Ahlitah and Simna fanned out to either side to keep watch for trouble, they made their way up the empty but bloodied avenue. “And what am I doing out at night in the middle of the street?”
Off to Ehomba’s right, Simna scanned the shadows for signs of potential trouble. But the side streets and alleyways were as quiet as they were dark, innocent in the light of his patrolling vision. As he strode purposefully forward, he shook his head and chuckled harshly. “Knows everything. Sure he does. Sure. Giliwitil knows he doesn’t even know where he is!”
XIV
The sleepy-eyed proprietor of the boardinghouse woke up fast when he got a good look at the supplicants who had come knocking at his door. No ex-mercenary backed by a wall full of weapons, no towering muscular warrior nor even especially bold in his personal life, he was nonetheless a man of some determination and, within the limited bounds of his comparatively commonplace profession, courage.
“Come in, quickly!” Holding the door aside, he hastily scanned the street behind the nocturnal visitants.
Ehomba and his friends piled in, the herdsman and Simna supporting the intermittently driveling Knucker between them. Glancing downward as they stumbled through the portal, the tall southerner took note of the thick band of polished copper that gleamed beneath the doorjamb. Out of sight within the night and hugging the front wall of the boardinghouse, Ahlitah had remained unseen by the proprietor. Now the big cat trotted up the steps in the wake of his companions. The owner’s eyes grew wide.
“You”—he gulped as he pressed his back against the wall to make room for the massive feline to pass—“you can’t bring that thing in here!”
Lambent yellow orbs swung around to regard the stubby little man haughtily. “Who are you calling a ‘thing’?”
Startled, the landlord ceased trying to sidle desperately sideways up the hall. “It talks.”
“Yes,” Ahlitah replied dryly, “it talks.” Jaws that were capable of crushing furniture hovered a few feet from the terrified owner’s perspiring face. The litah’s breath was warm on the man’s skin. “Don’t you have a house cat?”
“N-n-no,” the proprietor stammered weakly.
“Well you do now.” Turning away, Ahlitah followed his companions deeper into the