“We're all going to work,” Gubbeen admitted to us over a mug of beer, “but we're not enjoying it. That's putting things strongly, I know, but it isn't only my opin?ion. I wouldn't say such a thing myself, not unless I was assured of wide support from my friends and co-workers, that is.”
“The Pervects have to go,” I declared, causing most of my listeners to dive underneath the table, and emerge only when it became apparent that the ceiling wasn't going to fall in on them. “But the problem is that there's no easy vulnerability that we can exploit to get them to leave. We still have to find where they're weak, and push on it.”
“But they are not weak!” Ardrahan, the female commit-
teefriend exclaimed, and confided to the ceiling, “They are all powerful and strong!”
“More Wuhses than ever are being taken in for extended personal conversations,” Gubbeen whispered. The Wuhses who worked as janitors nodded their heads vigorously, but were afraid to say anything aloud. They had been sitting and listening to us with their mouths clamped tightly shut except to eat.
“Where are they being held?”
“In the, er, basement apartments,” Ardrahan stammered, with a glance at the silent cleaning staff for corroboration.
“Is Wensley down there, too?”
“He is not... there, good Master Magician,” said one of the janitors, a female with silver scattered through her black curls. “The only ones that we are, er, hosting, are those whom our visitors wish to speak to under conditions where they ... aren't interrupted.”
“I know about the interrogation chambers,” I burst in, making them dive underneath the table again at my direct phrasing. “Is there anywhere else in the building where he could be?”
“We are fairly certain that we ought to be able to state with some degree of certainty ...” one of them began.
“YES OR NO?”
“Uh, er, no.” They looked taken aback that I forced them to provide a one word statement. I tried to remember that Wuhses were generally nice people, and that the frus?tration I was feeling was my own.
“And he's not in anyone else's home? Then he must be in a public building. Like, one of the factories, for example.”
“I don't see how any of the missing Wuhses could pos?sibly be concealed in the factories, Master Skeeve,” Gubbeen protested. “Our workers clean every facility every day. The Perverts see to that.” Here he gave me a hard look.
“It's not my fault they managed to come back,” I re?torted. "I know how disappointed you are but I did my best
to make sure they stayed out of your dimension. They're tough. You knew that. I have a lot of respect for Pervects' abilities, both magikal and otherwise. They're fantastic ne?gotiators. If I hadn't been thinking wishfully I might have guessed that they would have gotten themselves out sooner or later. I'm sorry it was sooner."
Gubbeen grumbled to himself, but he didn't say any?thing. I intimidated him, too, and I'm one of the least terri?fying people I've ever run into, but Wuhses terrify easily.
“All right,” I offered in a soothing voice, “you're proba?bly right. How could anyone live in a factory? I'm only try?ing to look in all the corners, hoping to find my friend while we try to figure out what the Pervects are up to now.”
I had to admit that it was a setback to have the eight turn up again so soon. Zol was at a loss to explain their reappearance.
“I don't understand it, Master Skeeve,” he had stated apologetically. “I gave my testimony to the judge. In my opinion the perversion of minds is one of the greatest crimes in existence. They should have remained in custody for at least thirty days. Per victim.”
But it hadn't happened. We were still dealing with ten Pervects instead of two. If I hadn't given Wensley my word, I would have been back at my studies. No, that's not true: I was worried about his disappearance, and while it had only offended me at first that the Pervects had gone from contract employees to de facto rulers of their country, now that I had seen them in action I was incensed at their callous disregard for the Wuhses.
“So we have to go back to the drawing board and for?mulate a new plan. Does anyone have any ideas?” I asked.
“N-n-nno,” the assembly bleated.
I didn't think so. I felt sorry for them. I just wished that they wouldn't keep looking at me for leadership. But I guess it went with the territory. If Wuhses were capable of making strong decisions, they wouldn't be in this mess.
Being under the yoke of the Pervects, even by proxy,
made it hard for me to think. I was going back daily to Klah to check on Buttercup. The war unicorn did fine on his own, grazing in the fields behind the inn and putting himself in his stall at night, but I could tell he was getting lonely. I brought Gleep back with me so the two of them could play while I thought. I was eager to resume my nor?mal life, but I had a job to finish.
“All right,” I sighed. “May I take a look in the factories?”
Gubbeen lowered his eyes. “I regret, Master Skeeve, that only authorized personnel may be admitted during business hours. For safety reasons, you understand.”
“Really?” I asked, looking from one Wuhs to another in mock surprise. “What happened to the legendary Wuhs hospitality? All I want is a tour.”
“Oh!” Gubbeen's mouth dropped open. “I apologize, Master Skeeve. How terrible of me to misunderstand you! I am so ashamed you had to ask. We would be so pleased ... No one has ever wanted a tour before. Of course!”
Parrano, a lanky male with a full head of thick, pale curls, bustled ahead of us importantly. “This is so rare, to have visitors,” he told us eagerly. “Normally only our directors come here. They are most particular. We have strict stan?dards of quality.”
As in every place the Pervect Ten had held sway, the building was ridiculously clean. The structure itself, a plain square of stone blocks, had none of the charm of the Wuhs town. Built by the Pervects not long after they had arrived, it had been plunked down in what had been a park, convenient walking distance from several residential areas. A few pleasant lawns with formal flower beds and clusters of bushes were maintained at the perimeter, but as one got closer to the structure itself, the ground was covered by flagstones polished to a gleam. I noticed, and Tananda could not have failed to observe, that every approach could
be covered by a single person standing opposite any comer at a distance of less than a hundred yards. The factory was more easily secured in an emergency than the castle.
A couple of Wuhses in boiler suits followed us from the door, sweeping and polishing the floor where we had walked. I could have been offended, but I didn't want to at?tract any attention from the Pervects, and I did not want to get my hosts in trouble. All I wanted was for us to investi?gate and see if we could guess what the Ten were up to next.
The wooden door that Parrano led us through seemed unusually heavy for its size. I sent a pinging thread of power into it, and discovered it was a sandwich of metal concealed in between planks of wood. I followed Tananda's eyes to the ceiling overhead as we entered the showroom. A pair of disembodied eyeballs bobbed in the corners, one turned toward the door through which we had just come, and the other aimed at a smaller door at the rear of the room. There were frames on the walls with swags of curtains, but the windows in them were fake. It did look as though they were hiding something, but what?
Bunny attached herself to Parrano, asking questions. As I've mentioned before, the former Mob moll had a gift for keeping the attention of every male in the room upon her, even ones who were not strictly of her species. In this case, Wuhs physiognomy was similar to Klahdish, so I noticed that when he didn't concentrate, Parrano was addressing his answers to her cleavage, which was very much on show in the low-cut, nearly transparent blouse she was wearing.
It might sound strange to say I was immune to it; I wasn't, but I could admire her wiles for what they were: window dressing; and admire the intelligent person under?neath all the more. I also had her analyzing how
the factory ran: its efficiency, its potential output, the ratio of cost ver?sus profit. I was curious as to why the Pervects were even interested in such a low-end industry. Bunny understood the fundamentals of business better than any of our crew
except maybe Aahz, and she had managed to surprise even him over the years with her insights. Parrano was proving to be an encyclopedia on the subject of his precious factory.
That left Tananda, Zol and me free to examine our sur?roundings. I hoped that the person on the other end of the security spy-eyes was also male. If it was one of the Ten we were in trouble, but I was hoping they had more on their minds than the day-to-day operation of a concern that had been running smoothly for years without outside interference.
“You say this is one of fifteen facilities in Pareley?” Bunny cooed, running her finger along the top of a display case. She rubbed her thumb against her fingertip, manag?ing to make the little gesture look sexy.
“Yes,” Parrano stated proudly, “but ours is the oldest. We have been providing quality wares to Wuh for two years, but with skills running in an unbroken curve ÑI mean line!Ñback over three hundred years.”
Six Wuhses were in the room with us, but their eyes were on their work. Three pairs, a male and a female in each, were engaged in different kinds of needlework. One pair was embroidering flowers on little squares of cloth. One pair was knitting sweaters: he a powder-blue cardigan for an infant, she a yellow V-neck substantial enough for a very large adult. The last two were crocheting doilies. I cringed at the sight of the last; I used to have a great aunt who crocheted endlessly. Whenever she came to stay with us she brought us a bale of lacy white things that had to be put out on display along with all the other ones she'd give us over the years (that my mother carefully picked up and put away when my aunt left), that could not be touched, and could not under any circumstances get dirty. The craftspeople, knowing that they were on display to off-worlders for once, were wielding their tools carefully. I could tell they were proud of their work, but they kept glancing up at us through their eyelashes, seeking approval.
“These are our most average needlefolk,” Parrano ex?plained.
“They're really good,” I responded without thinking.
The factory manager's mouth opened in shock. “It's very kind of you to be so extravagant in your praise,” he began. “You know, the art is taught to all Wuhses equally.”
I glanced at Zol, who was giving me one of those “use your compassion” expressions. “I'm sure everyone's equally good,” I corrected myself.
He relaxed, and the seamstresses went back to then-work. I kept looking around. So far, I had spotted nothing suspicious or even out of place for a firm that made simple fabric handcrafts. Why was there so much security equip?ment here?
Niki rolled the dolly out from underneath the stamping ma?chine and stood up. She wiped oil off her hands with a rag and threw a nod to one of the Wuhses who ran the press. Obediently, the Wuhs ran to the switch on the wall and threw it. The pistons started slowly, then increased then-tempo until they were threshing deafeningly up and down. Niki put the rag in the pocket of her coveralls and watched the process with a critical eye. The steel in this dimension was brittle and inferior, but they had to rely upon it until they could afford to bring in good ore from Dwarrow. Not that these pathetic rats deserved it. They treated her like a prison guard, jumping in fear every time she opened her mouth. Could she help it if most dimensions suffered from inadequate dentition?
Come to think of it, Wuhses didn't really need decent teeth: most of what they ate you could suck through a straw. Natural predators had been bored out of existence long ago.
Niki wasn't far away from a demise from ennui herself.
She longed to get back to her own string of manufacturing plants on Perv. They could probably use an overhaul. If she had been corning up with innovations to make machines run faster and better on a miserable backwater like Wuh, then they had to be light-years ahead at home.
“All right, all of you,” she barked. “Back to work.”
She pointed at their work stations where the conveyor belt passed, bringing parts of the food choppers to them to assemble. One by one they started jumping over the bar at the back of their seats. “Cut that out, dammit! You'll make me fall asleep! Walk around like civilized creatures. What would your mothers say?”
“Madam!” Curdy, her squeaky-voiced office assistant came running. The plump little lambkin had soft white hair and big round eyes like a stuffed toy. Niki turned to her, bored.
“What's your problem?”
“Strangers in the factory.”
“What?” she barked. Curdy gestured and started run?ning back toward the office. Strangers? They had had a se?curity breach in the castle, for all that Monishone had denied there was anything wrong with a room-sized spell going for a walk on its own. It must be the same intruders. Who else would want to get a look at a warehouse full of doilies? “This section is on lockdown! Don't let anyone in here but me! Got that?”
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances
TWENTY-ONE
“Espionage and information gathering is a time honored method to prepare for a conflict.”
N. HALE
“Levitate, Master Skeeve,” Zol whispered urgently. “I have never seen you so agitated.”
I took his advice. The tray of refreshments in my hand, full of precious china set on delicate crocheted circles alongside crisp napkins that were obviously produce of this facility, immediately stopped rattling. The thread of magik literally lifted it out of my hands and moved it eas?ily from the serving area of the cafeteria toward a table with available seats.
“Sorry,” I offered sheepishly. “For a moment I was brought back to my childhood. My aunts and grandmoth?ers always had things like this. They made me carry it, to show what a good little boy I was, then yelled at me when I broke something.”
'There is no harm in giving you a standard to which they wish you to live up,“ Zol lectured, sternly, ”but it is never fair to exceed the physical abilities of the person one is teaching."
“They meant well,” I defended them faintly, but to be honest I was thinking not just of my female relatives, but of my friend, mentor, teacher and partner Aahz.
He always pushed me to the levels that he knew I could reach, even though at the time I was certain he must be wrong. He had tried to dissuade me from undertaking this mission, and I had ignored his advice. Had he known that I was overstretching myself? I hoped not. I found myself both missing his company and dreading our next meeting at the same time.
After some urging Parrano had taken us on a tour through the shop floor section of the factory. My first view of a thousand Wuhses embroidering was nearly enough to make me turn tail and run back to Klah. It was the most spectacularly boring enterprise I had ever seen. The hands holding the needles rose and fell, rose and fell in a spiky tidal motion. You could literally hear a pin drop as occa?sionally one of the sewers dropped a fastener on the ground.
This was the main support of the Wuhs economy? If I hadn't already known that the Pervects had another con?cern going somewhere, I would have thought they were in?sane relying upon what Aahz called “tchotchkes” and “schmattes” to provide a livelihood for thousands of fami?lies, not to mention turning a profit for the Ten.
Row after row of workers, stitching by hand or running a length of cloth through a pixie-powered machine, turned out pile after pile of white, cream, pink and yellow tea tow?els. I didn't think there was that much tea served anywhere in all the dimensions.
We looked in every door and under every single thing in all of the rooms we visited, but there was no sign of Wensley. Many of the people knew him, but no one had seen him since the day of the riot. Everyone was convinced he was dead. I didn't want to believe it.
Some of the goods the Wuhses made were for sale in the cafeteria. Bunny and Tananda went eagerly to look over the
offerings while Zol and
I got some refreshments. We sat down at a table full of Wuhses, and I tried to draw them into conversation.
“So what do you do?” I asked for the forty-third time, no longer caring if I got an answer.
“I tat lace table runners,” twinkled a little white-haired granny, her hands going together and moving as if she was holding a shuttle and spool. I always noticed that when you asked someone how they did something, they would tell you verbally and describe it through body language. She bit off an invisible knot, then her horizontal-slitted eyes peered at me sharply. “You look like you could use some decent table linens, visitor. Look for my name on the tags, and you'll be sure of the most basic quality.”
“Thanks,” I smiled, trying to sound appreciative, though lace table runners would be as useful to me as water-soluble handkerchiefs.
“How about you?” I inquired of a blunt-faced male with a pot belly. He took in a breath suddenly, as though my question had called his mind back from far away.
“What?”
“What do you do here?” I inquired.
“I embroider tea towels,” the Wuhs intoned dully. “I sew daisies and jonquils. I like yellow.”
His hands started to go through the inevitable display of his art. I watched curiously, as instead of the motions of drawing a needle up and down, he seemed to be stacking various items on top of one another, stretching overhead and dragging down a pencil-like device to touch the items then letting it go. Next, both hands reached to his left and came back holding an invisible cylinder which he set down over the parts already before him, screwing it down and fi?nally hitting an unseen plunger a couple of times with the palm of his hand.
“What kind of tea towel is that?” I asked Zol.
“I like purple,” uttered the Wuhs next to him, mechani?cally. “I do very fine lilacs and lavender sprays.” But the
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances Page 17
