“So you're on the run from bill collectors?” I asked.
“No, no! We always pay our debts. That wouldn't be fair, to cheat someone out of their hard-earned wages ... well...” Wensley paused. “... out of what we owed them. It's not their fault we weren't experienced enough to han?dle such...”
“Cheats?” Bunny suggested.
Wensley blushed to the roots of his pale hair. “Oh, let's not call them that. But we ran out of money. Almost com?pletely. We needed help.”
“I'm not a financial advisor,” I stated.
“We don't need a financial advisor,” Wensley pleaded, his eyes huge with woe. “We found financial advisors. Now we need help getting rid of them.”
Bunny and I looked at one another, then back to our guest. “Why don't you just ask them to leave?”
“We ... can't,” Wensley quavered, dropping his gaze to the ground. “You just don't tell the Pervect Ten to leave.”
I raised my eyebrows. This was starting to sound inter?esting. “Perfect Ten? They're beautiful women?” I started to picture myself the heroic intercessor between the Wuh?ses and their lovely foes. They'd be so grateful that I stepped in to clear up a misunderstanding. I didn't need to study all the time, did I?
Wensley made a face. “I suppose they are beautiful... though I have to admit that I might be prejudiced against green scales and yellow eyes, and then there are the big teeth ... really off-putting, but I might not understand the aesthetics of ...”
My ears pricked up. “Wait a minute Ñnot perfect, Per- vect? You went to Pervects for investment advice?”
“Really, it started out as a consulting contract,” Wensley
said desperately. “They came highly recommended. Ten of them came in and within no time ripped out the entire or?ganization we had in place. They assessed our debt struc?ture and our earning potential, and steered us onto a new course. Under their guidance we started small businesses, and they sold the goods to other dimensions. Pretty soon they made us open factories and controlled our expendi?tures. Within a couple of years we were out of debt again. But now they're pretty much in charge of everything. We can't get them to go away.”
'Ten... Pervects?“ I uttered, faintly. ”Ten.. . Pervect... women?"
“Yes, well. I... then, one of the Wuhses who had braved the wilds of Jahk came back with stories about you and how you bested the Jahks and won their Trophy. We were so impressed! Here was the very person or persons who would free us from the yoke of oppression ... well,” he stopped, and gulped, “from a relationship that has ac?complished rather more than we assumed it would.”
“You do need help,” I began. “But I'm not the one to do it.”
“But, Master Skeeve!” Wensley wailed.
I stood up decisively, and the Wuhs jumped to his feet in reaction.
“Let me take you to a friend of mine. He's an expert on Pervects. I'll explain everything. You won't have to say a thing.”
“To Aahz?” Bunny asked, linking her arm with mine.
“ToAahz.”
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances
TWO
“I'm puttin'the band back together.” Ñj. blues
“We're off to see a wizard?” Wensley asked, as we pushed our way through the crowds of merchants and shoppers thronging the lanes through the tents of the Bazaar at Deva. Our visitor clung to my upper arm with limpet-like de?termination. His eyes were wide as he took in the variety of dimension travelers bargaining with Deveels and other sellers of goods and services. I had to admit that I'd gotten so used to the place that seeing the reactions of a new?comer reminded me how much of a racket filled the air. Among tents ranging from a tight fit for a Gnome to a canvas-covered space large enough to hold an Imp family reunion, red-skinned Deveels of all sizes, ages and shapes bargained with one another at the tops of their voices, den?igrating one another's merchandise, parentage and general appearance, until they made a bargain, after which they'd be all smiles... but their voices would still be ear-bleedingly loud as they offered one another brief compli?ments before parting. No Deveel stuck around long after
having bought or sold. There was always another sale to be made, and customers waiting. Folk of hundreds of other dimensions walked or glided or blundered through the shoulder to shoulder crowd, in search of that elusive item they had to have. If it wasn't for sale on Deva, or couldn't be obtained by legal or illegal means, then it was a rare commodity indeed.
Smells filled the air, too. Some of them, like spices, baking, and cooking food, were pleasant, but they were overbalanced by an equal number of real stenches, like the wagon we passed full of rotting vermin. I was afraid to guess whether the pathetic corpses were destined for the trash heap, or the kitchen of a local restaurant. I'd learned to eat almost anything during my thin years as a would-be thief and apprentice, but my palate would never accommo?date such foods as Pervish cooking or Deveel snacks-on-a-stick, guaranteed to give you a stomach ache you'd never forget, if you survived digestion.
A Trollop with plenty of green-tinged cleavage showing over the top of an inadequately-laced tunic started to give Wensley the eye, but I caught her gaze and shook my head. Recognizing me, she gave a sultry smile, tossed her moss-green hair, and turned to the next prospect, an Imp wearing a loud suit and flashing far too many rings and neck chains for a pick-pocket-heavy ambience like this one.
“Not a wizard. He's my best friend,” I corrected Wensley. We were lucky to hear that Aahz was on Deva. Tananda, my friend who was, coincidentally, also a Trollop as well as a trained Assassin, was at home in our old head?quarters. Bunny assured me Aahz also made it his pied-a-Terre whenever he was in the dimension. Tananda had steered us toward a beer garden offering seasonal brews, some rows over from our office.
Oom-pah-pah music assaulted my ears as we walked into the tavern. I'd been by myself so long on Klahd that I forgot it was Weisenheimerfest on Deva. Deveels in leder-hosen, with perky little green hats tilted on their heads be-
tween their sharp little horns and kegs on their shoulders, made their way between the broad wooden tables. Deco?rated pottery or metal mugs hung from pegs all the way around the wooden gallery. Below, people from all kinds of dimensions sat on the benches, some holding up their tankards for a refill, many taking a snooze under said benches after their long-awaited annual overindulging (Weisenheimerfest only came once a year). Others swayed from side to side in time to the music played by a trio of musicians who sat on stools at one end of a dance floor. No one was dancing in the heat of the noonday sun, but there was some serious drinking going on.
Aahz was there, alone at the end of one table, tossing down foaming draughts from a mug as big as a bucket. I had never been so glad to see him in my life. He almost looked beautiful to me, but nobody could call big, green, batlike ears or teeth as long as your fingers beautiful. Though he stood a little shorter than I, he had the air of power and ease that any Pervect commanded. (Some, less knowledgable dimensional travelers called the denizens Perverts, but that was all a matter of deliberately bad PR those who lived in Perv spread about their homeland.) I recognized his clothes as one of the outfits he called his “casual Friday” wear, though why a day of the week should make a difference in how one dressed I'd never worked out. A pale-green shirt open at the collar blended nicely with a pair of trousers the color of a sweet I had come to like called “butterscotch.” His scaly, green, clawed feet bore no adornment and needed none. He'd tried to educate me about dress sense, but it was really Bunny who had taught me how not to look so much like a...Klahd.
He looked startled as he glanced our way. It had been a while since the last time, and I was the one who was re?sponsible for our parting. But I thought that our mission was of sufficient importance to interrupt my self-imposed exile, and I knew Aahz would feel the same urgency.
“You want me to do what?” Aahz gasped, spitting a mouth?ful of beer clear across the open dance floor. The tub
a player gave him a chiding glance and turned his instrument over to empty it. “Ten female Pervects? A dimension full of Wuhses? The Deveels cheated them out of their last dime, and the Pervects got it back for them? And now they want us to throw the Pervects out? Mmm, mmm.”
He slammed his mug down. I recoiled slightly at the vi?olence of the gesture. His lips twisted. His shoulders started to heave.
“Mmm mmm mmm. Ha ha ha ha. HAWHAWHAW-HAWHAW! HAWHAWHAWHAWHAW!”
He laughed until the building rang with the sound of his voice. The other patrons watched him nervously as he slapped me on the back, stood up, slipped to his knees, and slid down the trestle of the table until he was sitting on the floor laughing.
Soon, he recovered and climbed up to his feet again. He took my hand in a crushing grip.
“Aw, part Ñ Skeeve,” he gasped, wiping tears from his yellow eyes. “I've missed you, kid. That is one of the best jokes I've heard in months. Really did me good. Fraulein!” He held up a hand and snapped his fingers. “A round for my friends!”
“But I'm serious,” I insisted, as a Deveel maiden whose pointed tail stuck out beneath the frills of a tight dirndl skirt slapped a mug into my palm and held out her own for payment. I felt in my belt pouch for a coin.
Aahz drank deeply from his own mug. “No, you're not, kid. Nobody is going to march into a dimension taken over by Pervects and politely ask them to leave. At least, I'm not. That would be as pointless an exercise as asking a shark to give back the arm he just chewed off your shoulder.”
“What's a shark?” I asked.
Aahz grinned, but there was a touch of sadness in his expression. “Just like old times, huh, kid? Well, if you're serious about it and you really want my advice, you'll scratch this one. I wouldn't do it for all the tea in China, and don't ask me where China is. I'm not in charge of your education any more. You don't really need me to explain to you why this is a bad idea. If you've already made up your mind to go and you're talking to me pro forma, good luck. Just make sure you leave burial instructions with Tananda, okay? I'll miss you. Nice to see you, Bunny. Tell your un?cle I said 'Hi.' Sorry, Curly,” he turned to Wensley, “but when you guys grow the backbone to take care of this on your own you'll find it a lot easier than you think.”
“I'm afraid your friend didn't comprehend the serious nature of our... situation,” Wensley bleated in my ear as we left the beer garden.
“I think he understood it just fine,” I replied, glumly.
Now that I'd said it out loud it did sound like a suicide mission, and it would be one, without the aid of someone who really understood the way Pervects thought. I'd already tried to get in touch with Pookie, a female Pervect who'd worked with us before, but she was off on a mission with an?other one-time associate named Spider and couldn't be reached. Most likely she'd give us the same advice Aahz had: give up and let the Pervect Ten leave when they felt like it. The Wuhses certainly weren't worse off than when they'd arrived, but I agreed with Wensley that it was better to stand on your own. Pareley deserved to be freed from their yoke.
I felt in my belt pouch for the D-hopper, but to tell the truth I wasn't ready to go back to Klah yet. I didn't have an idea how to proceed. Wensley looked at me with those big sad eyes of his. I just couldn't let him down.
Bunny hadn't said a word. She probably agreed with Aahz. That made me all the more resolute to figure out a way to solve Wensley's problem. That would show every?one that I didn't need a dozen shoulders to lean on, that I could take care of a sticky situation on my own.
“As long as we're here, we may as well get some lunch,” I decided, drawing inspiration from the dusty, aromatic air. “It would be nice to have a change from home cooking.”
Bunny smiled. “How about kebabs at Ali Ke-Bob's?”
I crooked my elbow so she could put a hand through it. “Sounds delicious. How about you, Wensley?”
“Well,” our guest began, very tentatively, though I could see the avid gleam in his eye. “If it's not too much trouble...”
“I'm next!”
“No, I'm next!”
As we came around the corner into the next street, a crowd all but filled the avenue. Men and women from every dimension I had seen were trying to get into a tent where I knew manuscripts and books were sold. A sign next to the door said “Autographing Today!” One after an?other, each person emerged from the throng triumphantly clutching a gaudy hardcover book. I peered at the title as a stout Troll went by with his book open in his huge hand. He studied something on the title page, and a tear rolled down his hairy cheek. I had to jump out of the way because he wasn't looking where he was going.
“Imps Are From Imper, Deveels Are From Deva,” I read from the cover. “Well, that's obvious. Imps are from Im?per. And Deveels are from Deva.”
“Zol Icty!” Bunny cooed suddenly.
“What?”
“That's the author! He writes self-help books. They're, wonderful! I have all of them. Just wait here a moment, Skeeve. If he's here today I have to have a copy signed by him.”
“Sure,” I agreed. Bunny dived into the crowd pushing in at the door. I pulled Wensley out of the way of the excited shoppers to a safe vantage point across the street. As more
people came around the comer and saw the sign, they shoved eagerly into the throng, blocking those who were coming out from inside. Yet, strangely, no one seemed to be angry or impatient. Usually if there was a desirable item for sale, teeth, claws and handbags were the weapons of choice to make sure one got one's hands on it. I felt the air for lines of force, but no perceptible magik was in use in the tent. Something else had to be going on to keep every?one in such good spirits.
About an hour passed before Bunny emerged. She had a starry look in her huge, blue eyes. The prized book she held clasped to her chest, which was heaving with sighs of joy.
“Oh, he is so wonderful!” Bunny squealed, breathing deeply. “Look, Skeeve! See what he wrote in my copy: 'To Bunny. I can tell just by looking at you that you are sensi?tive and generous. Keep making the best of your splendid attributes so the whole world will benefit. All my dearest wishes, Zol Icty.' I'll treasure it forever!”
In the face of her obvious delight I didn't make the gag?ging sound that the fulsome dedication evoked from me. “That's really nice,” I offered. I know my voice sounded a little lame, but Bunny didn't seem to notice.
Wensley turned the book over to reveal a portrait of the author, a little gray man with huge eyes, a thin mouth, a small turned-up nose, delicate little ears, and fine, wavy black hair. I recognized him as a denizen of Kobol, a di?mension that had produced notable mathematicians and a technical profession that Aahz called “come pewter pro?grammers.” Kobolds were known to be very complex thinkers, far ahead of their time. I thought they looked like embryos, except for their coloration. Bunny kept talking about meeting him, the words tumbling out like water go?ing over rapids.
“... And he's studied the people in hundreds of dimen?sions. He knows all about every one of them, Gnomes, Imps...”
“Pervects?” I said, a thought suddenly striking me.
“Yes, of course,” Bunny said, halting in mid-flow. “I'm sure he mentioned them. Why?”
“We need an expert,” I said. “Maybe we can talk to him.”
“That's a wonderful idea!” Bunny beamed at me. “I'll see if we can take him to lunch!”
With that, she dived back into the fray.
Another twenty or thirty minutes went by, but after the crowd thinned out, Bunny emerged from the book tent with the author in her grasp. The little gray man's head only came to the middle of her ear, but she held on to his arm as though he was the most important man in her uncle's en?tourage. (Bunny had been brought up to be a moll, but she was wasted in that, er, position.) She performed introduc?tions with the air of a magician presenting her very best il?lusion. The author's eyes widened as she spoke my name.
“Skeeve the Magnificent,” Zol Icty said, holding o
ut a long, narrow hand to me. “My, my, I've heard so much about you. And I must say that you live up to my expecta?tions.”
I wasn't wearing the terrifying illusion that I normally did when seeing clients, so all he saw was the blond youth whose face I shaved every day. “What do you mean?”
“I've heard you're a man of compassion and thorough?ness,” the Kobold said, beaming up at me. “I can just see the generous nature glowing from every pore. I am hon?ored to be in your presence.” I was torn between wanting to throw up and feeling infinitely flattered. Aahz never no?ticed my compassion or thoroughness. Most of the time he was upset that I didn't grab everything on the table when my opponents were at a loss. “So what can I do for you?”
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances
THREE
“Let's take this show on the road!” Ñ m. rooney
I tried to live up to the reputation Zol insisted I had while I outlined our mission over lunch.
We were in a private booth in a very small, dimly lit diner I knew, at some distance from the bookstore, but it was still difficult to have a private conversation. Hundreds of people, one after another, came up to our table with a book held out and a simpering expression on his or her face. Because I was supposed to be compassionate, I tried to hold my temper at each interruption, though it got more and more difficult when I could only squeeze out three or four words before the next one came.
With my position in the Bazaar I could usually depend on a maitre d' to fend off intruders while I dined, but even he, a Deveel in his middle years, was starstruck at the sight of our guest, and did nothing to prevent the crowd of pas?sionate Zol Icty fans from getting in the way of the service of our drinks and food, and of my narrative flow.
The Kobold blinked up wryly at me from the book he
was signing for a Gnomish woman whose blue face was flushed a becoming sapphire at the sight of her idol. “You've been very patient, Master Skeeve,” he assured me, “but you needn't worry. This is the last one. I only sold 8,736 copies today, and including this, I have now signed them all.”
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances Page 2
