The Dragon Man - Brian Stableford [51]
“They were absorbing the perfume,” Sara said, doggedly, although she knew that she had no proof of it but her own conviction. “It had an effect in them.”
Ms. Chatrian made as if to shrug her shoulders, but thought better of it. Her slim shoulders, conspicuously unadorned by hummingbirds or any other modern frippery, were perfectly designed to illustrate contempt—but that wasn’t an attitude Ms. Chatrian wanted to display to a customer whose family were regulars. “I’m very sorry, Sara,” the tailor said, “but I don’t think there’s anything I can do anything about that. If there’s a complaint to be made—and if what you say is true, I certainly agree that there might be—then it ought to be addressed to the manufacturers of the shadowbats. I’m sure they’ll be interested to know that their nice new technology has a good old-fashioned glitch.”
Sara observed that Ms. Chatrian’s voice was slightly smug as well as casual. As a tailor who hadn’t yet involved herself with the new technics, Linda Chatrian was not in the least displeased by the thought that they might have thrown up an unfortunate side-effect—but she obviously didn’t want to get involved if she could avoid it.
Sara thought about insisting that Ms. Chatrian ought to help her find out what had happened, but decided that the tailor was right. If she had a complaint to make, she really ought to take it up with the people who had made the intoxication-prone shadowbats. If, on the other hand, she were merely curious—Sara hadn’t quite made up her mind about that—the supplier would be more likely than a tailor to be able to give her further information.
“If the shadowbats were local,” Sara said, determined to get some profit from the meeting, “Who’s most likely to have fitted them?”
“It’s not really my field,” Ms. Chatrian replied, cautiously. “I wouldn’t like to make accusations based on guesswork. There’s a matter of professional ethics, you see...but I can check the local section of the web-directory for you, if you like.”
Sara made no reply, but the tailor turned to the desktop anyway, tapping away at the keypad with a single slim finger, as if she were too refined to type with all ten fingers. After a few seconds she said: “There are three sublimate technologists in Blackburn, five if you include Preston. If you widen the search as far as ManLiv....”
“That’s all right,” Sara said. “Perhaps the Dragon Man will know. His shop’s just around the corner.”
Ms. Chatrian turned back to look at her then, obviously relieved to have the matter taken out of her hands. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Bats would be his sort of thing, wouldn’t they? He’s quite cutting-edge, in spite of the fact that his window-display’s all needles and blades, and he certainly attracts clients interested in...the macabre. Your Father Lemuel would probably patronize his establishment rather than mine, if he cared about appearances at all.”
Sara knew an opportunity to score a point when she saw one, so she said: “Well, perhaps I’ll take a look at his catalogues myself.”
Unfortunately, Linda Chatrian wasn’t in the least intimidated. “I’m sure he’ll be only too pleased to help you,” was all she said in reply, without the slightest twitch of her professional smile.
Sara made the most dignified exit she could contrive, and squared her shoulders as she stepped back into the street, ready to defy the crowd no matter how intense its stares became. While she was standing there, preparing to take her first step in the direction of the New Town Square, the two waiting hummingbirds resumed their intricate dance—but now they were quickly joined by two more.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Sara murmured, just loud enough to be heard by the nearest passers-by.