Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [57]
Approaching the border between the Tuuqalian’s enclosure and the much larger open space beyond, Walker slowed. Hesitantly, he extended an arm. It passed beyond the boundary without encountering any tingling. Stepping through, he turned as George joined him. Behind them, the Tuuqalian wavered.
Walker frowned. “What’s wrong, Braouk?”
The alien appeared uncertain. “I like you, human Walker. I like your small expressive companion as well. I would not want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Walker beckoned. “Come on. If we hurry, we can begin this before darkness comes.”
Still the Tuuqalian demurred. “Nearly every other time I moved beyond my own space, it was to rampage uncontrollably. I do not know if it was something in the atmosphere that changed, or within me, or something the Vilenjji injected into the immediate environment that so affected my soul.” Dark eyes regarded Walker indecisively. “If when I step outside this time I again lose control, I might injure you without being aware of doing so.”
“You just need to concentrate,” Walker advised him. “On what we’re doing, on where we’re going. I know.” He steeled himself. “How about if you spin us another saga of your people as we travel? Wouldn’t that help to focus your thoughts?”
“An excellent idea, clever and well propounded, tidily conceived.” Advancing on its under-tentacles, the Tuuqalian came toward them—and passed through the inactivated border. It approached very close to Walker, and to George, who had to fight himself to keep from breaking into flight.
It was Braouk who broke, however—into verse. Halfway to their destination, unable to restrain himself, George launched into a series of uninhibited accompanying yips and howls. In response, the Tuuqalian raised the volume of alien baritone to match the canine counterpoint. Walker marched on between them, suffering in silence.
Whether by dog or alien, he dared not be accused of being insensitive.
9
“You can come out. Really, it’s okay.”
There was a slight echo to the reply; no doubt because it emanated from the very depths of the hollow within the boulder. “I am not coming out. It is not okay. You have in your company the dreadful grotesque enormity. Unlike yourself, I would not benefit from being stepped upon by it.”
Walker rose from his crouch before the mouth of the tunnel. Stepping past him, George lowered his head slightly and sniffed at the entrance. “Something in there smells like old, moldy wet towels.” His tail wagged briskly. “I like it.”
“Disinterest flows freely, fond I am not, bitter talkings.” Braouk had both eyes drawn in as close to his body as possible as he strove to shield them from the light rain that was falling. “Also, it is much too wet in here. The Tuuqalia prefer skies that are clear and dry.”
Every cat to its ashcan, Walker thought. Aloud, he said to the massive alien, “Just give her a couple of minutes. She’s . . . shy.”
“I am not shy,” came the voice from within the boulder. Sque’s hearing was sharper than Walker would have expected. “I am selective. I do not engage in conversation with bloodthirsty beings that may also accidentally fall on me.”
Walker took a deep breath, smiling to encourage himself more than his companions. “You don’t have to worry about that, Sque. Braouk is far more agile than his size would suggest.”
“How about his mind?” came the quick response. “Is it also agile?”
An opening. Knowing he was not likely to get a better one, Walker pounced on it. “I’m not qualified to judge such things, Sque. Certainly not to the degree that you are. In fact, I was hoping you’d be able to render an opinion and tell me.”
“Of course I could. If I would.” A pause, then, “What do you call the inquisitive lump of hair with the educated nose that accompanies you?”
The dog inserted itself halfway into the opening. “I’m called George, thank you very much.”
“You are welcome, for nothing