Flinx's Folly by Alan Dean Foster Page A

little he had been able to see, that was all they had in common. Some small, insignificant bit of mutual history. That, and pet Alaspinian minidrags. Hardly a basis for alarm. He lengthened his stride. He hadn’t lied to facilitate a graceful exit. He did have work to do.
    Let Clarity spend the afternoon with this Philip Lynx. Let her spend a day or two with him. What was the harm? His affable compliance, indeed encouragement, Ormann knew, could only enhance his stature in her eyes.
    Yes, he thought as he entered the lift that would take him to the upper floors where the company executives had their nests, he had handled it very well indeed.

CHAPTER
    6
    Though they talked all that afternoon and on through dinner, Flinx deliberately kept the conversation casual. Whenever she tried to probe, he diverted the exchange to her history. She was happy enough to chat about herself, though whenever the subject turned to Bill Ormann she was less forthcoming. That suited Flinx fine. He really did not want to talk about Ormann.
    The following morning he met her outside her residential complex. At her insistence, he had dressed for light hiking. She was looking forward, she had explained the previous night, to showing him a little of why the inhabitants of New Riviera were envied by their fellow citizens throughout the Commonwealth.
    They took public transportation to a central downtown terminal where they boarded a local transport. In half an hour they were speeding silently down a propulsion rail that wound deep into gentle, rolling hills. Other passengers, young couples from the city, spared the tall redhead and his companion nary a glance. In contrast, the two flying snakes inspired frequent comments and wide-eyed glances from children traveling with their parents. One young girl went so far as to shyly ask permission to pet Scrap. Detecting no threat, the minidrag dozed indifferently on Clarity’s shoulder as the fascinated child drew her fingers cautiously down the flying snake’s spine, pausing once or twice to feel the pleated wings folded tightly against the scaly body. Raising one eyelid halfway, Pip scrutinized the activity and, sensing nothing inimical, promptly dropped back to sleep.
    In twos and family groups, people left the liftcar until only two couples were left. When the transport next slowed Clarity rose, hefted one of the two hiking packs she had brought along, handed the other to Flinx, and headed for the exit.
    “End of the line,” she announced. “From here we walk.”
    He followed her outside. The last time he had gone for a hike with a backpack it had been on a world called Pyrassis. His surroundings today were a little more accommodating.
    Instead of hostile alien desert he found himself walking through a forest of exotic, colorful blossoms. Instead of sprouting from bushes, the profusion of lavender and cerise, pink and turquoise, white and metallic gold blooms sprouted from the branches of pale-boled trees that twisted their way skyward like spiral bouquets. Whereas on Earth and other worlds he had visited, plants spent much of their time and energy fighting for every scrap of sunlight and ground space, here the trees seemed in competition to see which one could put forth the most spectacular blossoms. Overhead, Pip and Scrap circled and hummed gleefully as they played among the branches.
    He had never seen so many flowers in one place. The air was saturated with perfume and his mind grew dizzy trying to assign names to all the colors he saw. The climbing, corkscrewing trunks of one grove of takari they hiked past climbed more than thirty meters into the sky. From the lowermost branch to the topmost sprig, every helical limb and twig was heavy with blooms. It was a flourish of natural beauty beyond anything he had previously encountered. When he remarked on it to Clarity, she only laughed.
    “Nur is full of valleys like this one. As many as possible have been left in a wild or semiwild state for the