End of the Matter by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0345295943
Published: 2012-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“You two are looking for your fortune,” he finally replied, after a moments's hesitation. "I'm looking myself."

If it came to a fight, for any reason, he knew he would have no chance against these two. He had to convince them he was telling the truth. They had been friendly so far, but they had the strength to be.

The problem lay with Isili, he felt. While not openly antagonistic, she was cautious to the point of paranoia. He tried to reach out mentally to her and received impression of enormous emotion barely held in check. Surprisingly little of it was directed toward him or September. It was all wrapped tightly inside her. She was like the coil of an old-time generator: on the surface; all was calm, but overload it slightly and wires would fly in all directions.

Taking a seat on a block of trimmed green stone, he explained about his search for his true parents. He censored those details which might upset or prejudice his hosts, avoided mention of Ulru-Ujurr and his flight from the Owarm. His mere presence was unnerving enough to Hasboea. No need to make it worse.

He finished with his search for a big man, one with a gold earring and a small minidrag, who had tried to buy him over a dozen years ago.

"Twelve years, standard time," he said, staring hard at the watching September. "I was five years old. Do you remember it?"

Isili's eyes widened, and she stared accusingly at September. "A five-year-old child, Skua. Well, well." She gave Flinx a knowing look when the giant failed to respond. "He remembers something, for sure. This is the first time I've ever seen him speechless."

"Yes. Yes, I remember, lad," September finally admitted, looking and sounding like a man reliving a dream he had forgotten. "I did have a small minidrag with me."

"Did you leave Moth with it?" inquired a tense Flinx.

"No." Something trembled inside Flinx. He felt like a person with amnesia slowly regaining memory of lost events. "It finally left me in a bar. I was drunk. Minidrags can be temperamental. It probably decided I wasn't fit to associate with any more."

"I know how temperamental they can be," Flinx assured him. He forbade mentioning that Pip might have been the same minidrag September had lost. "I ... used to have one myself."

"Then you do know. And you also probably know, lad, that on Moth it's a severe crime to import venomous creatures. So I couldn't very well march myself up to the nearest gendarmerie and ask for help. Not without being thrown in jail for letting a toxic alien loose on the planet. Sure, but I remember the slave auction." His memory of the incident appeared to grow stronger the longer he thought about it. "I bid on you. I was bidding on several in the same consignment."

"Several others with me?" Flinx frowned. This didn't fit. "What others?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to tell you that just yet, young feller-me-lad," the big man announced softly.

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