The Third Lynx by Timothy Zahn

Author:Timothy Zahn [Zahn, Timothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, SciFi, Quadrail
ISBN: 9780765317322
Publisher: Tor
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The hotel manager was livid.

[Payment from the criminal,] he kept repeating over and over in Seejlis as the cops cuffed my hands behind me, the normally fluid Tra’ho language sounding a lot less melodious than usual. [Payment in art and in money.]

The cops made the sort of soothing noises cops everywhere in the galaxy make to outraged victims and marched me out into the street.

Where I found myself smack dab in the middle of a jurisdictional dispute.

It was a beaut, too, as near as I could decipher from the rapid-fire argument going on. On the one side was the chief cop on the scene, who had me dead to rights and clearly wasn’t interested in handing me off to anyone else. On the other side were two of the government oathlings I’d just run out on, whose Modhran controller was equally adamant that I not be locked up where I couldn’t help him find Stafford and the Lynx.

Of course, the oathlings had no idea of why they were fighting so hard to keep me out of jail, and it was weirdly amusing to watch the mental and verbal gymnastics they were throwing themselves into to make their point. Still, words and arguments were their profession, and I gave them five to three odds of winning.

I hoped they would, too, for the cops’ sake. From the look on Gargantua’s face as he gazed at me from one of the knots of gawkers it seemed likely that if the cops took me away their friends guarding the jailhouse might not survive the night.

Casually, I sent a gaze around the area. From the size of the muttering crowd out there it looked like my little fracas had roused pretty much everyone within a two-block radius. Certainly it should have roused anyone in the Fraklog-Oryo Hotel.

But there was no one in the streets except Tra’ho’seej, no one peering out the windows except more Tra’ho’seej, and no one on the rooftops at all.

Which meant I’d ruined a few perfectly good art objects, not to mention risking my neck, for nothing. Fayr was apparently out for the evening.

If he’d ever been here in the first place.

A light rain began while the argument continued, and everyone in sight proceeded to either pull out a fold-up hood from their coat collars or produce a compact hooded plastic poncho from some pocket. Apparently, sudden rains were a part of the local climate, part of the guidebook I must have missed.

The Halkan walkers didn’t seem to notice. They stood there motionlessly, water running down their heads and dripping off their snouts, their eyes focused on me. Morse took off his jacket and offered it to Penny, who draped it hoodlike over her head for protection, while Morse himself held a forearm pressed to his forehead to at least keep the water out of his eyes. Bayta, for her part, seemed as oblivious of the precipitation as the Halkas, her eyes haunted as she gazed at the crowd surrounding us.

As for me, with my hands cuffed behind my back, I had no other option but to simply get wet.

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