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20For%20Love%20of%20Mother-Not.txt touring couple and one solitary man far
back in a corner. After the usual curious glance at Pip, they ignored the
newcomer.
Flinx walked over to the autochef, his mouth watering. Living off the land was
fine for the stupava, but occasionally he needed something neither stale nor
dehydrated. He made his selections from the extensive list, inserted his card,
and waited while it processed the request. Two minutes later he picked up his
meal, chose a table, and dug into the roast, fried tuber, and crisp green
vegetable. Two tall cups of domestic coffee-substitute washed it down.
The innkeeper strolled in. He chatted a moment with the couple, then sauntered
over to Flinx's table. Despite his desire for solitude, Flinx didn't feel much
like arguing, so he said nothing when the 'keeper pulled over a chair and sat
down nearby.
"Excuse me," the young man said cheerfully. "I don't see many people my own
age here, let alone anyone younger traveling on his own-certainly never with
so interesting a companion." He pointed to Pip.
The flying snake had slithered down from Flinx's neck and was sprawled across
the table, gulping down green seeds. They complemented a steady diet of
arboreal rodents. The seeds really weren't necessary, but the minidrag was not
one to pass up a meal that couldn't fight back.
"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
A real diplomat, this one, Flinx thought to himself. "I'm looking for a
friend," he explained, chewing another chunk of roast.
"No one's left any messages for you here if that's what you're wondering," the
innkeeper said.
"The friends I'm looking for don't like to leave messages," Flinx said between
mouthfuls. "Maybe you've seen them," he asked without much hope. "A very old
woman is traveling with them."
"We don't get many very old people out this way," the innkeeper confessed.
"They stay closer to the city. That's what's so funny." Flinx stopped in
midchew. "There was a group in here just recently that might be the friends
you're looking for."
Flinx swallowed carefully. "This old woman is short, a good deal shorter than
me. She's close to a hundred."
"Except for her mouth, which, is a lot younger?"
"You've seen her!" The meal was suddenly forgotten.
"Five days ago," the innkeeper said. Flinx's heart sank. The distance between
them was increasing, not growing shorter.
"Did you happen to see which way they went?"
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"Their mudder took off almost due north. I thought that was odd, too, because
the line of inns most tourists follow runs pretty much northwest from here,
not north. There are a few lodges due north, of course, up in the Lakes
District, but not many. They were a funny bunch, and not just because the old
woman was with them. They didn't look like sightseers or fishermen."
Trying not to show too much anxiety, Flinx forced himself to finish the rest
of his meal. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help, but the talkative
youth seemed just the type to blab to anyone who might be curious about a
visiting stranger, including the forest patrol. Flinx did not want anyone
slowing his pursuit with awkward questions-especially since he intended to
increase his speed as soon as feasible and like as not by methods the police
would frown upon. Nor had he forgotten the watchman in Drallar whose
helpfulness had nearly turned to interference.
"You've been a big help," he told the other.
"What's all this about?" the innkeeper persisted as Flinx finished the last of
his food and let
Pip slide up his proffered arm and onto his shoulder. "What's going on?"
Flinx thought frantically. What could he say to keep this loudmouthed innocent
from calling up the patrol?
"They're on vacation-my great-grandmother and some other relatives. They argue
a lot." The innkeeper nodded knowingly. "I wasn't supposed to be able to go
along," Flinx continued with a wink. "But I slipped away from my studies, and
I've sort of been playing at trailing them. You know. When they get to the
lodge where they'll be spending the rest of the month, I'm going to pop in and
surprise them. Once I land in their laps, they can hardly send me home, can
they?"
"I get it." The innkeeper smiled. "I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks." Flinx rose. "Food's good." He gathered up Pip and headed for the
door.
"Hey," the innkeeper called out at a sudden thought, "what lodge are your
relatives headed for?"
But Flinx was already gone.
Outside, he hurriedly mounted his stupava and turned it into the woods. Five
days, he thought worriedly. Two more at this pace and they would be ten ahead
of him. The stupava was doing its best, but that was not going to be good
enough. Somehow he had to increase his speed. He reined in and let the bird
catch its breath as he extracted a ten-centimeter-square sheet of plastic from
his backpack. It was half a centimeter thick and had cost him plenty back in
the marketplace, but
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%20Mother-Not.txt (40 of 96) [1/16/03 6:42:13 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20Alan%20Dean%20-%20Flinx%201%20-%
20For%20Love%20of%20Mother-Not.txt he could hardly have risked this journey
without it. A series of contact switches ran down the left side of the
plastic. He touched the uppermost one, and the sheet promptly lit up.
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