The Galactic Circle Veterinary Service by Benjamin Stephen

Author:Benjamin, Stephen [Benjamin, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: TWB Press
Published: 2014-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Fur and I stood at the door of a tavern in a seedy part of town. Half of the arc lights in the street were broken. The sign said, The Skinned Cat, accompanied by an illustration of what could only be a flayed Hunter.

“Cy, this isn’t a good idea.” Fur’s glance bounced around like ping-pong balls. “Cooper said pro–Hunter people aren’t welcome here. She said a couple of activists disappeared last year and have never been found.”

He had a point. I recalled Cooper said there was no solid evidence of foul play, only suspicion about what happened.

My reply was a bit too emphatic. “Hey, it’s not a problem. No one will recognize us. We might have been celebrities out in the sticks for the cenoxen business, but no one in the cities knows about that, much less cares. We may be able to glean information that the locals can’t. The authorities obviously won’t help.”

Fur tugged his beard. He had no lack of courage, but he was more circumspect than I was. I stepped through the door and he followed. A miasma of thick smoke hung in the air, and the place had a sinister mien. Or, perhaps that was my own preconception.

Eyes swiveled toward us like laser targeting systems. As we moved toward the bar, I felt those eyes as if they locked onto my soul. We ordered a couple of drafts from a surly bartender and made our way to a table.

After a few moments, a body detached itself from a nearby group and approached us. The man was middle-aged with grizzled hair and beard. His burly body rolled as he walked, but he was light on his feet despite his bulk. His broad, blunt hands clenched, and the muscles of his arms corded as he stood over us.

“New here. Who be ye?” He was as blunt as his hands.

“In from Crescent City,” I responded. That city on the opposite continent was a safe place to be from, I hoped.

He nodded. “What brings ye here?” He pointedly looked around the room.

“Looking for a friendly place. Told this was one.”

He nodded again. “For some.”

Fur raised his mug and examined the dark reddish-amber beer. He took a big swallow then finished the very large mug. “I like that. The malt and hops are well-balanced, and it’s got a smooth, creamy head. Served at the perfect temperature, too. Think I’ll get another.”

The man raised his eyebrows. I wondered if he was impressed by Fur’s knowledge of beer, or more so by his capacity. I had seen the latter before and it was prodigious.

When Fur returned, the man said, “Cal Brooking,” and stuck out his hand, his thoughts suspicious and dour.

Fur shook it and introduced himself and me with fictitious names. I let Fur lead.

“Good beer,” he said. “We were told to come here for it. Brewed locally?”

Brooking nodded. “Yah. Anselms. Brewed over by the river.”

“Can you only get it here?” Fur asked.

“In a few places. For the right people.”

I raised an eyebrow.

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