Free The Tar-aiym Krang by Alan Dean Foster Page A

enemy.”
    “Fascinating dichotomy,” said Malaika. “And you have some indication as to where this weapon or lute or whatever might be? If either, it would be very valuable in Commonwealth markets.”
    “True, though we are only interested in its scientific and cultural properties.”
    “Of course, of course! While my accountants are estimating its net worth, you can draw theoretical rationalizations from its guts to your heart’s content . . . provided that you remember how to put its pieces back together again. Now just where is this enigmatic little treasure trove, eh?” He leaned forward eagerly.
    “Well, we know exactly, almost,” said Tse-Mallory.
    “Exactly? Almost? My weak mind again, gentlesirs. Forgive me, but I profess lack of comprehension.”
    Truzenzuzex made a very human-sounding sigh. Air made a soft
whoosh!
as it was forced out the breathing spicules of his b-thorax.
    “The planet on which the Krang is supposedly located was discovered accidentally nearly a t-year ago by a prospector working independently in the Blight. He was hunting for heavy metals, and he found them. Only they weren’t arranged in the ground the way he’d expected.”
    “This fellow, he must have had sponsors,” said Malaika. “Why didn’t he take this information to them?”
    “The man owed a very great debt to my ship-brother. He knew of his interest in Tar-Aiym relics. Supplying Bran with this information was his way of paying off the debt. It was of a personal nature and going into it here can serve no purpose. It would have been a more than equitable reimbursement.”
    “Would have been?” Malaika’s humor was degenerating visibly into irritation. “Come, come, gentlesirs, all this subtle evasion makes my mind sleepy and shortens my patience.”
    “No evasion intended, merchant. The man was to have met us in our rooms in the market section of the city, bringing with him a star map listing complete coordinates for the planet. As we had previously agreed on you as a likely sponsor, the three of us were then to proceed on to this house. When he did not arrive as scheduled we decided after some deliberation to seek you out anyway, in the hope that with your resources you might discover some hint as to his whereabouts. In any case, it would have been difficult to maintain our independence much longer. Despite our best efforts, we do not look like tourists. Enterprising persons had already begun asking awkward questions.”
    “I will—” began Malaika, but Flinx interrupted.
    “Did your friend by any chance have red hair?”
    Tse-Mallory jerked around violently. For a second Flinx had a glimpse into something terrifying and bloody, which until now the sociologist had kept well buried beneath a placid exterior. It faded as rapidly as it had appeared, but a hint of it persisted in the crisp, military tones of the sociologist’s voice.
    “How did you know that?”
    Flinx pulled the crumpled piece of plastic from his pocket and handed it to an astounded Truzenzuzex. Tse-Mallory recovered himself and glanced at the unfolded sheet. Flinx continued unperturbed.
    “I have a hunch that’s your star map. I was on my way to Small Symm’s establishment when my attention was caught by a commotion in an alleyway. Ordinarily I would have ignored it. That is the way one lives in Drallar, if one wishes to live long. But for reasons unknown and thrice cursed my pet,” he gestured at Pip, “got curious, and took it into his head to investigate. The occupants of the alley took exception to his presence. An unfunny fight was in progress, and in the situation which developed the only argument I had was my knife.”
    “Your friend had been attacked by two men. Professionals by their looks and actions. They weren’t very good ones. I killed one, and Pip finished the other. Your friend was already dead. I’m sorry.” He did not mention his earlier encounter with the three.
    Tse-Mallory was looking from the map to Flinx.