It took me a few seconds to rechannel my thoughts. While Aahz's training has gotten me out of a lot of tight spots and generally improved my standard of living, there are some unfortunate side effects.
Once I got my mind back on the right track, I quickly filled the werewolves in on our current problem. I kept the details sketchy, both because I was getting tired of going back and forth over the same beginning, and to keep from having to elaborate on Luanna's part in causing our dilemma. Still, the Woof Writers seemed quite enthralled by the tale, and listened attentively until I was done.
'Gee, you're really in a spot,' Idnew said when I finally ground to a halt. 'If there's anything we can do to help…'
'We can't,' Drahcir told us firmly. 'You're behind on your deadlines, Idnew, and I've got three more appearances this month… not to mention answering the mail that's piled up the last two weekends I've been gone.'
'Drahcir…' Idnew said, drawing out his name.
'Don't look at me like that, dear,' her husband argued before she had even started her case, 'and don't cock your head, either. Someone's liable to shove a gramophone under it. Remember, you're the one who keeps pointing out that we have to put more time into our work.'
'I was talking about cutting back on your personal appearances,' Idnew argued. 'Besides, this is important.'
'So's meeting our deadlines. I'm as sympathetic to their problem as you are, but we can't let the plight of one small group of humans interfere with our work on the big picture.'
'But you're the one who insists that deadlines aren't as important as…'
She broke off suddenly and semaphored her ears toward her husband.
'Wait a minute. Any time you start talking about 'big pictures' and 'grand crusades'… is our bank account low again?'
Drahcir averted his eyes and shifted his feet uncomfortably.
'Well, I was going to tell you, but I was afraid it might distract you while you were trying to work…'
'All right. Let's have it,' his wife growled, her hackles rising slightly. 'What is it you've invested our money in this time?'
I was suddenly very uncomfortable. Our little discussion seemed to be dissolving into a family fight I felt I had no business being present for. Apparently Massha felt the same thing.
'Well, if you can't help us, that's that,' she said, getting to her feet. 'No problem. A favor's not a favor if you have to be argued into it. C'mon, Hot Stuff. We're wasting our time and theirs.'
Though in part I agreed with her, desperation prompted me to make one last try.
'Not so fast, Massha. Drahcir is right. Time's money. Maybe we could work out some kind of a fee to compensate them for their time in helping us. Then it's not a favor, it's a business deal. Face it, we really need their help in this. The odds of us finding this Vic character on our own are pretty slim.'
Aahz would have fainted dead away if he had heard me admitting how much we needed help before the fee was set, but that reaction was nothing compared to how the Woof Writers took my offer.
'What did you say?' Drahcir demanded, rising to all fours with his ears back.
'I said that maybe you'd help us if we offered to pay you,' I repeated, backing away slightly. 'I didn't mean to insult you…'
'You can't insult Drahcir with money,' his wife snapped. 'He meant what did you say about Vic?'
'Didn't I mention him before?' I frowned. 'He's the vampire that Aahz is supposed to have…'
There was a sudden loud flapping sound in the rafters above our heads, like someone noisily shaking a newspaper to scare a cat off a table. It worked… not on the cat (I don't think the werewolves owned one) but on Massha and me. My apprentice hit the floor, covering her head with her hands, while I, more used to sudden danger and being more svelte and agile, dove beneath the coffee table.
By the time we recovered from our panicky… excuse me, our shrewd defensive maneuvers, there was nothing to see except the vague shape of someone with huge wings disappearing out the front door.
'This one's all yours, dear,' Drahcir said firmly, his posture erect and unmoved despite the sudden activity.
'Come on, honey,' his wife pleaded. 'You're so much better at explaining things. You're supposed to help me out when it comes to talking to people.'
'It's a skill I polished at those personal appearances you're so critical of,' he retorted stiffly.
'Would somebody tell me what's going on?' I said in tones much louder than I usually use when I'm a guest in someone's home.
Before I could get an answer, the door burst open again utterly destroying what little was left of my nervous system.
'Hey, Boss! Did you s-se-Wha-wa…'
'Outside, Guido!' I ordered, glad to have someone I could shout at without feeling guilty. 'Blow your nose… and I'm fine, thanks! Nice of you to ask!'
By the time my bodyguard had staggered back outside, his face half buried in a handkerchief, I had managed to regain most of my composure.
'Sorry for the interruption,' I said as nonchalantly as I could, 'but my colleague does raise an interesting question! What was that?'
'Scary?' Massha suggested.
Apparently she had recovered her composure a little better than I had. I closed my eyes and reflected again on the relative value of cheeky apprentices.
'That,' Drahcir said loftily, barely in time to keep me from my assistant's throat, 'was Vic… one of my wife's weird artist friends who dropped in unannounced for a prolonged stay and, unless I miss my guess, the criminal you're looking for who framed your partner.'
'He wasn't really a friend of mine,' Idnew put in a small voice. 'Just a friend of a friend, really. Weird artist types tend to stick together and pass around the locations of crash spaces. He was just another charity case down on his luck who…'
'… who is currently winging his way back to his accomplice with the news that we're on their trail,' I finished with a grimace.
'Isn't that 'accomplices' as in plural?' Massha asked softly.
I ignored her.
'Oh, Drahcir,' Idnew said, 'now we have to help them. It's the only way we can make up for having provided a hideout for the very person they were trying to find.'
'If I might point out,' her husband replied, 'we've barely met these people. We don't really owe them an explanation, much less any help. Besides, you still have a deadline to meet and…'
'Drahcir!' Idnew interrupted. 'It could get real lonely sleeping in the old kennel while I work day and night on a deadline, if you catch my meaning.'
'Now, dear,' Drahcir said, sidling up to his wife, 'before you go getting into a snit, hear me out. I've been thinking it over and I think there's a way we can provide assistance without biting into our own schedules. I mean, we do have a friend… one who lives a little north of here… who's temporarily between assignments and could use the work. I'm sure he'd be willing to do a little tracking for them at a fraction of the fee that we'd charge for the same service.'
He was obviously talking in the veiled references partners use to communicate or check ideas in front of strangers, as his words went completely over my head, but drew an immediate reaction from Idnew.
'Oh, Drahcir!' she exclaimed excitedly, all trace of her earlier anger gone. 'That's perfect! And he'll just love Massha.'
'There's still the question of whether or not we can get him here in time,' her husband cautioned. 'And of course I'll want a percentage off the top as a finder's fee…'
'WHAT! 'I exclaimed.
'I agree,' Idnew said firmly. 'A finder's fee is totally…'
'No! Before that,' I urged. 'What did you say about there not being enough time? I thought the execution wasn't scheduled until the end of the week!'
'That's right,' Drahcir said. 'But the end of the week is tomorrow. Your friend is slated to be executed at
