Journeys of the Catechist Omnibus by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction/Fantasy

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 building. His broad, padded paws made less noise on the thick throw rugs and wooden planking than did his far less weighty human friends.

The owner trailed behind, anxious to query his visitors but fearful of pressing too close to the big cat. At the same time he dared not raise his voice lest he wake sleeping patrons and precipitate a panic. So he compromised by whispering as loudly as he could.

“Is it a room you want, or just a temporary refuge?” An intense desire to be rid of these eccentric vagabonds and the carnivore that accompanied them fought against his inherent good nature. At the same time he tried to place a distinctive and most disagreeable smell that did not, surprisingly, come from the big cat.

Ehomba looked wordlessly at his friend. With a sigh, Simna checked his remaining gold, knowing even as he did so that there was very little left. Still, if any of it was magicked, it might have reproduced while resting in his purse. A quick check revealed that the gold was still plain, ordinary gold. What remained was no more and no less than what he had seen there the last time.

“Hoy,” he exclaimed frostily as he let Knucker’s fetid arm slide off his shoulder, “we wouldn’t have had to go through all that if not for this maundering sot. It’s time for him to contribute to his own stinking survival.

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