Strange Music

by Alan Dean Foster

  “I told you to get out of the way. Didn’t you hear me?”

  Wait…what?

  “I thought…” Reaching him, Pip slithered up his chest. Curling around his upper body and neck, she began to lick her partially paralyzed wing. Flinx continued to gape at the Qwarm.

  “You’re not…you’re not here to kill me?”

  Her expression…her emotionless expression…twisted. “Kill you? I don’t even know who you are.” With a nod she indicated Vashon, who had curled into a fetal ball, eyes open and staring blankly. “It seems you may have done my work for me, and without even being requested to assist. I am Chela Voh, a member of—”

  Flinx kept his tone even as he replied. “I’m familiar with your organization.” He did not add that he was familiar with it because in the past its membership had been hired to murder him. He shook his head slightly. “You’re sure you’re not here to kill me?”

  Clearly taken aback, she frowned. “Why would I have been hired to do that?” Once again she indicated the motionless, alive-yet-dead-inside body lying nearby; the flickering light of the oil lamps that lined the walls glistened off the hairless face. “Vashon is—was—a defector from the Guild. I was chosen to deal with him. It took us some time to track him to this world.” She turned back to Flinx. “I don’t know what you did or how you did it, but…is his present condition permanent?”

  “I believe it will be so. Judging from prior experience.”

  She holstered the deadly pistol. “That will, then, be sufficient to satisfy my needs.”

  A defector from the Guild, a relieved Flinx thought. That explained it. The assassin had not been hunting him, but Vashon.

  Flinx looked thoughtful. “I imagine that he knew you would have found him soon enough on a developed Commonwealth world. So it made perfect sense for him to try to carve out a life on one that was not a member, but also not too primitive. Where he could establish himself without drawing attention to his activities, and where due to Commonwealth restrictions he presumably would have a better chance of survival.”

  She nodded. “To say that the Guild’s activities skirt the aphelion of legality is to admit to nothing that is not already widely known.” Her gaze, all the more penetrating for her lack of eyebrows, narrowed. “He apparently wanted you dead. Why?”

  “I was asked by the authorities—the Church, actually—to try to bring him back alive. He participated in the abduction of an important member of the leading family of Borusegahm Leeth. In the process, he utilized advanced technology. On a Class IVb world.”

  “Serious violations of Commonwealth protocol. Not that that is any concern of mine.” She gestured at the motionless body. “You can still bring him back, but not exactly alive. If it were up to me, I would leave him for the locals to wonder at.”

  He looked around. At this hour of the night the intersecting hallways were still deserted. Reflecting the nature of the weapon he had employed, the fight had been a comparatively quiet one.

  “I have no choice. I still have to extricate this family member and get her back to her home Leeth. Also my guide, to whom I am indebted.” He hesitated. “I could use your help.”

  She shook her head and started to turn away. “Your individual concerns and those of the Church or Commonwealth government are not mine.”

  He started to reach out to her but then decided against making physical contact. Thinking quickly, he said, “I’ll pay you.”

  She considered the unexpected proposal. “An intriguing aside. But I can only accept payment on behalf of the Guild. No Guild member operates independently.”

  He smiled thinly. “I know that.”

  Once again she searched his face. “You are very young to be so knowledgeable about things that are closed to most people.”

  He was forthright in his response. “And you’re very young to be a professional killer.”

  She pondered this, then—it was not exactly a smile, but as close to such as she could manage. “I like you. You’re honest. You’re direct. You’re not afraid. Would you like to have sex?”

  It was all a bit too much for one night. She was lively, attractive, lethal. Not unlike Pip, he thought. But he was safe with Pip. “Without wishing, believe me, in any way to offend you, I have to decline. I have a life-companion.”

  She didn’t seem in the least nonplussed by his rejection. “Oh well, then. As to business: How much can you offer for my services—for the Guild’s services? And who do you need me to kill?”

  “Hopefully, I won’t need you to kill anybody. What I need is transportation, which you must have, since I’m guessing that despite your excellent disguise you didn’t arrive here on foot. Did you hire a brund?”

  She shook her head. “Without the advantage of a local guide such as you apparently retained, I could not have followed so readily using local means. I have a skimmer, illicitly hired, hidden just across the main river and outside the city.” She smiled humorlessly. “As easy to violate several Commonwealth edicts as one. The Qwarm are not a shuttle service, save occasionally for the dead. Still, I am allowed to make exceptions if it is of significant benefit to the Guild. I ask again: how much?”

  Flinx thought; named a figure. She would have raised her eyebrows had she possessed any. “I venture to repeat myself: you look too young to have access to such an amount.”

  “You expressed surprise at my knowledge. You’d be even more surprised at the extent of my financial and personal resources. I’ll make full payment as soon as we and the individual I have come to take back with me are safely within the boundaries of Borusegahm station.”

  “How do I know that once we are safely there you will comply with the agreed-upon terms? And not turn me in to the authorities?”

  He met her gaze without flinching. “I have confidence in your resourcefulness. If I renege, you can always shoot me.” The way the back of his head was throbbing at the moment, he wasn’t sure he would mind if she did.

  “More difficult to do inside the station, but not impossible. Very well. On behalf of the Guild, which is after all not a philanthropic organization, I accept your offer of temporary employment. You are certain you don’t need me to kill anyone?”

  “I’ll let you know if the need arises,” he said dryly. “Right now our task is to find my guide, an indigene by the name of Wiegl, and then locate a female Larian named Preedir ah nisa Leeh. Following that, we will extract her from this polity, preferably without drawing the attention of the locals or the ire of their Hobak.” He turned, paused, and added, “And hopefully without having to kill anybody.”

  She did not appear disappointed. Nor did she seem eager. Neither of which was surprising, since a Qwarm is trained to evince no emotions.

  Moving fast, they returned to his quarters to recover his pack. While there was little among the food concentrates and medicinals that would violate Commonwealth edicts, his Secun vibraknife was an exception he could not let fall into local hands. Meanwhile Pip slipped back into the metal walking tube. Pack on his back and minidrag comfortably settled in for travel, they hurried back out into the hall.

  Wiegl had been assigned quarters in another corner of the visitors’ section. As Flinx tried the guide’s door gently, Voh looked puzzled.

  “No guards?”

  “There were two stationed outside my rooms as well,” he told her. “As I’m sure there were here. Vashon had a lot of authority. I expect he ordered them all to take a little time off so he could conduct his private ‘business.’ ” The unlocked door opened.

  The bed was empty. The void was replaced by the sounds of clashing sing-shouting behind him.

  “It’s all right, my friend, as she is our ally now, to help us escape!”

  Expecting a guard or other local, Wiegl had hidden behind the door opening with an eye toward fleeing out into the hallway. Instead, he had run right into Chela and now found himself on the floor with a knife at his throat. Flinx noted idly that it was a model different from the Secun he
carried: smaller, simpler, and doubtless just as lethal.

  Backing off, Chela let the guide up as she pocketed her weapon. Confused and uncertain but relieved to see Flinx, Wiegl eyed the new human warily.

  “Fast this one moves, fast as a hirgael hunting its prey, so that I did not even see her, until my gaze was framed by the ceiling.”

  “Chela Voh, this is Wiegl. My guide and friend.” That, he knew, would have to do for introductions. There was no telling when the guards who had been “relieved” by Vashon would determine it was time to resume their duty. Before they returned, he and his companions had to get the Firstborn out and away. And those watching Preedir ah nisa Leeh would still be on duty.

  As they carefully and quietly made their way through the night-deserted corridors, Flinx explained what had transpired.

  “The human Vashon is dead, or essentially thus, so we won’t be bringing him back, to Borusegahm Leeth, to face Commonwealth justice.” Flinx indicated the slender, wiry human who stood impassively by his side. “This is Chela Voh, another representative of my species, but not of my government, who has her own reasons for being here, for having stolen into Minord, for wanting now to leave quickly. Unlike you and I, she came by skimmer, a traveling device of the Commonwealth you have seen, whose presence here, outrages our laws. We will temper such outrage, at least until we return to Borusegahm, where I will deal with the fallout, as circumstances require.”

  Casting a glance over a shoulder, he was relieved to see that the lamplit corridor was still empty. But he knew that in spite of the hour, sooner or later some nocturnal wanderer was going to stumble across the mess in the corridor near his former quarters, find the comatose body of the Hobak’s human, and raise the alarm. Before that happened, they needed to free the Firstborn and be on their way southward.

  As at his quarters and Wiegl’s, two guards were stationed outside her rooms. Flinx had expected more, but as his guide pointed out, even had she managed to flee her quarters, there was nowhere for her to run. The entire Leeth of Minord would have been alerted to her escape.

  Once Flinx and Chela had positioned themselves, Wiegl showed himself in the corridor, sauntering nonchalantly toward the doorway and the guards who flanked it, a cheerful expression on his face.

  “Though it is late, a visit I would make, to the Firstborn of my Leeth, that I might comfort her, that I might reassure her of her forthcoming freedom, and imminent departure from this miserable land.”

  The ensuing fight was brief, though noisier than Flinx would have wished. One of the guards managed to shout before Voh took him down. They could only hope, Flinx knew, that in the silence of the night it had not been heard. Leaving the Qwarm to stand watch over the two now-unconscious guards, he and Wiegl entered the room.

  The dinner service that came flying in Wiegl’s direction hit hard. At least it was devoid of content, the Firstborn not being one to waste food and having already consumed it. Words were hastily sung to reassure her that Flinx was her friend and not Vashon’s, and that in fact her human abductor would trouble her no more.

  “I apologize, then, to your associate, whose head, I fear, I have wantonly indented.”

  Feeling of the bruise on his forehead, Wiegl winced as he struggled to sing a reply.

  “An honor it is, to be bashed by the Firstborn, whose apology I accept, whose bravery is striking, and whose aim is as notable as her reputation.”

  Outside in the hallway, Voh’s attention was devoted to the still-deserted lamplit corridors. “Talking is for later, conversation for later still, as we cannot take for granted, the continuing peace.”

  “Yes,” murmured Wiegl. “Time to go, time to flee, time to make use of what time has been granted us. Do you know, Firstborn, the way out, that we might reach the surrounding forest, unencumbered by pursuit?”

  Before she could reply, Voh sang out again. “I entered quietly, and know the way back. Follow me now, and we will leave this place, to its dreamings.”

  Moving as fast as short Larian legs would allow, they followed the Qwarm as she retraced the route she had used to infiltrate the City Hall complex. It was only as they neared the south side and the wide stone courtyard located there that Flinx began to sense the emotional presence of others.

  Many others. The shout by the one guard had been heard, and the alarm had been raised.

  There was no point in retreating inside. Flight in the opposite direction would only lead them deeper into the municipal complex and eventually into the densely populated neighborhoods of Minord itself. In this direction lay the river, the surrounding heath and forest lands of the greater Leeth, and, according to the Qwarm, the place where she had concealed her exceedingly illegal but now highly desirable skimmer.

  Carrying torches and lamps, between one and two hundred soldiers stood drawn up in double ranks in the center of the courtyard. Light gleamed off their armor and weapons. Several carried primitive long guns that in size fell somewhere between large rifles and small cannons. Wisps of smoke rose from their ready fuses. Scrutinizing the primitive projectile weapons from a distance, Flinx doubted their accuracy but not their effectiveness.

  Standing a few steps forward of the exact center of the front rank of fighters was a badly bent figure who leaned sharply to his right. Only a wonderfully carved cane prevented its owner from falling over. Unlike the emotions of his neatly arrayed soldiers, which were relatively consistent with expectation and trepidation, Felelagh na Broon’s feelings were mixed. In the flickering but ample light from lamps and torches, the Hobak squinted at the half-Larian, half-alien quartet. Coming upon the confrontation in the courtyard, the few citizens out for a very early morning walk hurriedly betook themselves elsewhere.

  “Y-you you have acquired a new companion, one of y-your own kind, though by what means it came here, I-I cannot fathom.”

  Flinx cleared his throat. He wanted this singing to be as clear as his words. “By means you cannot fathom, is the truth indeed, and it is by the same such means, that we will now take our leave—sorry as we are, to have to forgo, the remainder of your hospitality.”

  Unable to draw his bent body up, na Broon straightened his head as best he could and stiffened his ears. “That will be decided, by m-myself and m-myself alone, as y-you are m-my ‘guests’ here, and cannot depart except when I-I say.” He coughed, a strange hissing sound among the Larians. “By y-your singing, by y-your song, by y-your tune and by y-your melody, am I-I correct in assuming, y-your offer to replace the human Vashon in m-my service, is now withdrawn? As I-I am similarly assuming, y-you chose for reasons of y-your own, to leave h-him alive yet dead?”

  Plainly, someone had already found Vashon’s comatose form, Flinx realized, lying motionless in the hallway. Connecting it with the missing “guests” as well as the Firstborn would not have been difficult.

  Behind their Hobak, soldiers shifted positions uneasily. Flinx could sense they were ready to carry out his orders, ready to fight, but less than eager to do so. Perhaps word that he was a magician had spread among them.

  Could he otherwise turn that to his advantage? Certainly by projecting he could put down some of them, as he’d done to the unlucky Vashon. But there were far too many for him to influence all at once. When their comrades started to drop, surely the most alert among the rest would reasonably assume the strange visitors might be responsible, and would open fire. A metal slug might be a primal kind of projectile, but it could kill as readily as a neuronic pistol.

  How to respond to the Hobak’s sardonic query? What, he thought, if he used his ability to put down the Hobak? Would the soldiers then respond by opening fire? Or might he be able to “persuade” Felelagh without having to render him as insensible as he had Vashon? Reaching out, he tried to peel back the layers of the Hobak’s emotions, tried hard to parse his feelings. He didn’t have much time, and yet, and yet…

  What he found, if he was correct in his reading, offered yet another possibility. One he had never contemplated be
fore; one he had never acted on before.

  He’d had no compunction about dropping Vashon, who had been on the verge of killing him and Wiegl. But Felelagh had done him no harm. Yes, he was about to, but for reasons that to him seemed right and just, and on behalf of his position and his Leeth. Wasn’t there something that could be tried besides doing nothing and rendering the Hobak insensible? If Flinx’s read of him was correct, there just might be.

  It also might pose more danger to Flinx himself than to Minord’s leader. But first and above all, he had to ask a question. The question itself might result in the assembled troops opening fire, but Flinx saw no way around the asking of it.

  “I beg of you, before death is dealt,” he said, “the reply to one question, to the satisfying of a singular curiosity, by whose content, I mean no disrespect.”

  “One question, y-you may ask,” Felelagh replied magnanimously, “as I-I am in no rush, to seek the ending for y-you, the ending that is inevitable.”

  “Perhaps not so,” Flinx continued as Wiegl gaped at him and Preedir only stared, “if certain parameters can be established, whose knowing, might lead to your benefit.”

  The Hobak laughed, as did several of the ranked soldiers. “Might y-you presume to buy, y-your freedom from y-your situation, which is founded on treachery, and which y-you cannot possibly afford?”

  “There is something I might offer, depending on your answer, to the question I would pose, that is worth more than coin, that is more valuable to you than a ransom.”

  “Ask away then, y-your last question, before I-I have y-your entrails, filigree the pavement.” Black eyes regarded Flinx without humor or mercy.

  Flinx took a deep breath and hoped his singing matched his directness. “Have you always, always have you, been like this…physically unsettled?”

  It was not the question the Hobak had been expecting. Though unharmonious, the collective intake of air among the assembled soldiers and their officers was unmistakable. Even Wiegl and the Firstborn gasped, while Voh’s right hand slid closer to her partially concealed pistol. The almost universal reaction caused Pip to stir within the walking tube.