you like something to eat and drink?”
“Thanks, I’m not hungry. Actually, I’m looking for a
friend.”
“Everyone comes to the Elegant Bitch in search of a
friend.”
“You misunderstand. That’s not the way I mean.”
“Just tell me your ways, sir. We cater to all ways here.”
“I’m looking for a buddy, an acquaintance,” Jon-Tom
said in exasperation. The doormouse had a one-track
mind.
“Ah, now I understand. No divertissements, then? This
isn’t a meeting house, you know.”
“You’re a good salesman.” Jon-Tom tried to placate
him. “Maybe later. I have to say that you’re the smallest
pimp I’ve ever seen.”
“I am not small and I am not a pimp,” replied the
doormouse with some dignity. “If you wish to speak to the
madam…”
“Not necessary,” Jon-Tom told him, though he won-
dered not only what she’d look like but what she’d be.
“The fellow I’m after wears a peaked cap with a feather in
it, a leather vest, carries a longbow with him everywhere
he goes, and is an otter. Name of Mudge.”
The doormouse preened a whisker, scratched behind one
ear. For the first time Jon-Tom noticed the small earplugs.
Made sense. Given the mouse’s sensitivity to sound, he’d
need the plugs to keep from going deaf while working
amid the nonstop celebration.
“I recognize neither name nor attire, sir, but there is one
otter staying with us currently. He would be in room
twenty-three on the second floor.”
“Great. Thanks.” Jon-Tom almost ran into the mouse’s
outstretched palm. He placed a small silver piece there and
saw it vanish instantly.
“Thank you, sir. If there is anything I can do for you