Myth 18 - MythChief
Myth 18 - MythChief
Myth 18 - MythChief
Myth 18 - MythChief
ONE
“You can't go home again.” PRINCESS L. ORGANA
'“I still think this is a bad idea,” my attractive administra-tive assistant said, as I reached for the door of the tent.
“You keep saying that, Bunny,” I said, pitching my voice low so all the shoppers and merchants passing by us in the streets of the Bazaar at Deva didn't hear me. “We're just saying 'Hi' to the old gang. They'd expect us to. If any-thing, they'd be hurt if we didn't.”
“Uh-huh. You keep saying that.” She gave a toss of her short red hair.
I gave up. I didn't know enough women to make sweep-ing generalities, but I knew Bunny, and once she had her mind set on something, it was next to impossible to talk her out of it. Besides, we had reached our destination.
Standing outside the narrow tent that was the headquar-ters of M.Y.T.H., Inc., I paused for a moment to let the memories wash over me before ducking into the short entryway. This had been my home for years, my office and base of operations as the Great Skeeve before I retired. Much of my adult life had been tied to this deceptively small abode. It was a lot bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, to quote everyone who had ever stepped inside to do business.
I started to reach for the tent flap that separated the of-fice from the outside world, but hesitated. This wasn't my home anymore. It didn't seem right just to barge in. In-stead, I turned and gave the small gong hanging on the entry way wall a light tap.
“C'mon in,” a familiar voice called from within.
I felt more than saw Bunny's wince at the greeting. Back when she ran the office, she insisted that formal de-corum be maintained on the premises, particularly in front of prospective clients. Obviously, things had loosened up a bit since our departure. They would probably change back again now.
I pushed my way into the interior. “It's a raid!” I said, by way of greeting. A massive mountain of a man rose from behind the re-ception desk. “Skeeve!” he roared. “Hey, Nunzio! It's the Boss!” “Hi, Guido,” I said with genuine pleasure. “How's it go-ing?” Ignoring my outstretched hand, he swept me into a close embrace and thumped my back.
“Gee, it's good to see you,” he declared. He held me out at arm's length and gave me a good once-over. I was pretty sure I hadn't changed much on the outside, being a tallish, skinnyish Klahd with blond hair, but the inner changes were there. I hoped my friends would appreciate them. “Look who's here, Cuz.”
His cousin Nunzio, a smaller and slighter version of Guido, joined our ranks and started to duplicate Guido's greeting. I fended him off with one hand.
“I'm glad to see you, Nunzio,” I said, “but I can only survive one of those bear-hug greetings a day.” Bunny stepped forward with her arms outstretched.
“I'll take that hug if he doesn't want it,” she said. “You got it,” Nunzio said in his squeaky little voice as he lifted her into the air. Bunny squealed with delight. “Is Aahz around?” I said.
“No. He's over on Perv visiting the Duchess,” Guido said.
“The Duchess?” I said. The Duchess was Aahz's mother. I had met her on my last and only trip to Perv. I had never heard her use her real name, if she had one. “Is anything wrong?”
“I don't know,” Guido said. “He didn't say, and I didn't ask. He should be back in a week or so.” “I say, Skeeve! Bloody good to see you again.” “Hi, Chumley,” I said to the Troll who had emerged from the farther depths of the office.
As I've mentioned, the headquarters is bigger on the inside than it appears from the outside. A lot bigger. The enormous purple Troll began by extending a hand, in his reticent fashion, but he, too, ended up smashing me in a hug that left me gasping and coughing out strands of pur-ple fur.
“Glad to see you, too,” I choked. “Is Tananda around?” “Right here, Handsome.”
I was hit by an energetic bundle of curves and softness that wrapped itself around me and showered me with kisses. This time I didn't protest. Some overdone greetings are more welcome than others.
Eventually, we got everything sorted out, and the gang settled into various chairs and sofas or perched on desks. Guido insisted on pulling out the most comfortable arm-chairs into place for me. I ceded the seat to Bunny and took a wooden-backed chair upholstered with basilisk-leather cushions.
“So how long are you going to be here at the Bazaar?” Guido said. “Do you have time for a meal, or shall we just get straight to the drinkin'?”
“I'm back to stay,” I said. “I've given it a lot of thought and have decided to come out of retirement.”
I really don't know what response I was expecting, but what I got wasn't it. There was a long moment of silence while the crew exchanged glances.
“That's great, Skeeve,” Guido said at last, but his earlier enthusiasm had left his voice. “I say, what?” Chumley said. “Happy to hear it, but you know, what'?”
“You know, Skeeve, we've changed the operation since the old days,” Tananda said, carefully. I held up my hand.
“Hang on, everybody,” I said. “Before things get too awkward, I'm not expecting to walk back in here and take over. In fact, I'm planning on opening my own business. Just a small problem-solving advisory office. Nothing big or fancy. I just wanted to stop in and say 'Hi' and let you know I'm back.”
More awkward silence.
“That's swell, Boss... I mean, Skeeve,” Nunzio said, his high voice squeakier than ever. “Be sure to let us know if there's anything we can do to help out.”
“Thanks, Nunzio,” I said, lamely.
“Speaking of which,” Bunny said, rising to her feet, “we've got to get going. We've got to find some space for our office and lodgings.”
“That's right,” I said, even though I knew as well as she did that we had made no such plans.
I managed to keep smiling as we said our good-byes, trying desperately not to notice the difference in warmth between our welcome and our farewell.
“Well, that was pleasant,” I said to myself, as we made our way through the aisles of tents and stalls that made up the Bazaar.
“Actually, it was about what I expected,” Bunny said, falling in step beside me. “If anything, it went better than I was afraid it would.”
“Really?” I said dryly. “I thought it got a bit chilly in there.”
“Let's try this from a different angle,” Bunny said, rea-sonably. “What did you expect would happen when we dropped in?”
“I don't know,” I said. “I thought they would be happy to see me . . .” “Which they were,” Bunny said. “And I expected them to be glad I was coming out of retirement” “Why?” Bunny interrupted.
“Why?” I echoed. “Why shouldn't they be glad? They're my friends, and I'm starting a new business.” “Which is potentially in competition with their own operation,” Bunny said. I stopped in my tracks and stared at her. “What?” I managed at last.
She gave a deep sigh without looking at me. “Remember when I asked you why you wanted to set up business at the Bazaar?”
“Sure,” I said. “And I told you that it was because the Bazaar was where I was best known and had already es-tablished contacts.”
“Uh-huh,” Bunny said. “Think about that for a mo-ment.” I did and came up blank. “I don't get it,” I said. “It still makes good sense to me.”
“Oh. Skeeve,” Bunny said, shaking her head. “Here at the Bazaar, everyone does know about the Great Skeeve. When you retired, you were the hottest act in the dimen-sion. Of course people are going to come to you when you open your own business.�
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“Isn't that the whole idea?” I said, genuinely puzzled.
“Of course, that's the same pool of clients that are cur-rently going to M.Y.T.H., Inc., isn't it?”
“But. . . That isn't. . . I .. . Oh.”
Suddenly everything fell into place, and I was in com-plete touch with my feelings. Mostly, I felt immensely stu-pid.
“Two of their biggest clients are the Chamber of Com-merce and Don Bruce, both of which made their original deals directly with you,” Bunny said. “How do you think they're going to react when they learn that you're opening your own solo operation?”
Now, in addition to feeling stupid, I was feeling the be-ginnings of a splitting headache. Sometimes I think being in touch with one's feelings is massively overrated.
“Maybe I should go back and talk this out with them,” I said, turning around and gazing back toward the direc-tion where the tent lay. “This isn't at all what I intended. If nothing else, there's no way I could take on either the Chamber of Commerce or Don Bruce's jobs by myself excuse me, with just the two of us.” I didn't want to offend my only remaining colleague. My brain felt as if it wanted to force its way out of my eyeballs.
“No. Let it sit for a while,” Bunny suggested. “Like you said, they are your friends. Give it a while to sink in. They don't want to keep you from going back into business any more than you want to put them out of business. In the meantime, you might be putting some time into figuring out exactly what kind of work you'll be looking for that isn't in direct conflict with their operation.”
I followed her glumly toward the Merchants Associa-tion tent. First things first: we needed a place to set up shop. Then I needed to think about what exactly I would be doing in it.
Myth 18 - MythChief
TWO
'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."
R. NADER
A week later, Bunny opened the box the Deveel messenger had dropped on her desk and squealed with delight.
“Skeeve, the new business cards are here!”
I nodded without looking up from the fifth revision of the proposed lease for the new building that the two of us now occupied. The tent had even less charm than M.Y.T.H., Inc.'s had had when we first moved in and less than a quar-ter of the space. The Merchants Association of the Bazaar at Deva had some idea that since it was me, they were en-titled to boost the rent for the tent skyward. I was mentally composing the reply I was going to send them, starting with the information that it was still my signature on the first lease and ending with a reminder that they had not disclosed all the hidden flaws in the first tent I had rented from them, most particularly the back door that opened out into the dimension of Limbo, a fact that would have put us off renting the place if we had known. The argument was pure formality among Deveels, who, of all the dimensional inhabitants I have known, are the most fond of negotiating matters to their own benefit, preferably at the top of their lungs. While we were still in Klah, I had thought about changing headquarters to a less potentially haunted loca-tion, but after so many years, the old tent was where clients expected to find me. No sense in making people in trouble try to hunt down another address in the Bazaar. I'd had no idea that it would be necessary for the friends I had left behind that I do
so, and promptly.
The Merchants Association had been happy to take us on a midnight magic-carpet tour of available properties. I had rejected outright an otherwise desirable six-room storefront with a courtyard garden inside for Gleep and Buttercup to play in, mainly because it stood directly be-side one of the Bazaar's busiest brothels. Not that I had anything against people in professional horizontal work, but the clients waiting to be interviewed by the majordomo had begun to size up Bunny as new talent. I didn't want any misunderstandings, so I had turned the place down on the spot and dragged Bunny away before she could ask why. Only a moment later she came to the same conclusion I had and gave our tour guides a fierce glare. They had the grace to look sheepish, not an easy task for Deveels, who were born with a greater capacity for gall than maybe any-one but Pervects.
The next two showplaces were frankly insults. The property next to the arena selling dragons had fallen va-cant, to no one's surprise. It always emptied out at the end of every lease, no matter how desperate the tenant. I couldn't even consider it. The noise and the smell alone would have put off clients, let alone the danger of running into some of the merchandise if it ever got loose. And it would have. Deveels had a tendency to cause havoc among people they see as having money they wish to acquire, and set up “accidents,” which they then blame loudly on the moneyed individual, the only remedy for which was a hefty load of cash. It had happened to me enough times to make me wary. I looked over the burn marks on the wall of the stand that faced the dragon lot. “No,” I had said flatly.
One of the Deveels showing us the property sulked openly. I assumed he had a financial interest in the dragon booth and had had visions of gold coins dancing in his brain.
The second one, only a block away, had nothing to re-deem it either. The modest tent faced away and was invis-ible from a busy corner not a dozen paces distant.
“Too subtle,” Bunny had said. “The Great Skeeve needs a place with more pizzazz. More eyeballs.” She had whipped Bytina, her Perfectly Darling Assistant, her handbag, and ordered up a map of the Bazaar. She indicated a few points on the map to the representatives.
“What have you got in these areas?” she asked.
With a sigh, our guides directed the Djinn driving the carpet in an easterly direction, toward the faint fingers of light heralding false dawn.
Location, location, location, as Catchmeier, the real-estate Deveel, kept reciting to us, as if repetition made it truer than anything else he said. Just before the sun came up, we landed in front of a tent I wouldn't have looked twice at if I'd been on my own. To my surprise, it lay across a busy passageway from the Golden Crescent Inn, one of my favorite eateries, a reliable spot for private con-ferences, and workplace of some of my closest friends in the Bazaar who didn't work for me. The rental property lay just exactly at the angle one's glance would fall on as one came around the corner of yet another throughway, one that even at this early hour was full of carts and foot traf-fic. It had looked promising, even to my increasingly bleary eyes.
“It's got all the comforts of home,” Catchmeier said, holding aside the flap of the tent. I peered inside. The de-cor in the transdimensional building concealed by the magikal portal hadn't been updated in years, maybe not since the spell was laid, but I couldn't see anything basi-cally wrong with it. I got a glance of tired walls painted in faded designer beige, worn wooden floors, and bat-tered lintels between rooms. '“Skylights in the two main rooms. Outhouse out the back. Regular trash pickup. Safe neighborhoodhardly any murders in the last ten years. Well, the last two anyhow. Last two months,” he admitted at last. “What do you think?”
Bunny and I looked at one another. “We'll take it,” she'd said. The Deveels and the Djinn driver looked re-lieved.
“Just come with me,” Catchmeier had said. “We'll have the paperwork drawn up for you in no time. No trouble.”
No trouble. Hah. I turned over the second-to-last page, to make sure all the changes we had agreed on were presentthis time. A scurry of thin black lines caught my eye. I turned back the page in haste. A clause in very fine print was trying to avoid my eye. I slapped my hand down on it and read through my fingers, shifting them so I could finish without it getting away. Catchmeier had inserted a transitive clause, one that would make me liable for dam-ages for any accidents within a live-hundred-yard radius of the building. Not a chance. I growled a little as I reached for my quill pen to scratch it out.
“Skeeve!”
“Huh?” I asked, brought suddenly back to the present, as the curvaceous redhead waved a sheaf of small, colorful pasteboards in my face.
“Lookie, lo
okie!” Bunny squealed.
Skeeve, it said in gold across the middle of the shiny, wine-colored card, without title or other qualification. The Right Answer. By Appointment Only. And at the bottom, in small but unmistakable print: Fee schedule available upon request. That last had been Bunny's idea. As she had always had a much better grasp of business than I had, I acceded. The result was a pretty professional-looking card.
“I like it,” I said. Bunny's shoulders relaxed. “Why are you so surprised? I trust you.”
“I know, Skeeve,” she said, giving me a brilliant smile. “But it still surprises me when someone takes my word for something without hesitating. What do you think? I'm so excited!”
I had to admit I was, too. A new beginning, I hoped. One in which I would give myself the chance I had not before.
If we had decided upon the tent in haste, we more than made up for it in the time we took to work out what my new business was going to be. Every time I thought about the look on my friends' faces when I had said that I was back ... I had gone away for my own goodfor every-one's good, or so I convinced myself. My return had been a spectacular failure, through my own thoughtlessness. No, my lack of insight. I would not make that kind of mis-step again.
“Do you know what, Bunny?” I asked, looking up from the cards. “I've changed my mind. I don't think I want to do this. Let's just go back to the inn. I think I left some-thing on the stove.”
Bunny looked down at me. “After all that discussion after all our planning ...” She paused and looked at me. “You're kidding, aren't you? Thanks for giving me a heart attack. You can't possibly be thinking of backing out now. It's the best possible outlet for you. You know that, don't you?”
I did. The two of us had spent long nights talking it over. I was bored and lonely, and I knew she was, too. We needed to get back into the heart of things. I was never go-ing to be a great wizard, but that was never really how I'd made my name. I was a problem-solver. If I confined my-self to finding solutions to knotty questions for my clients, it wouldn't cut into my friends' business. I gave Bunny a sheepish grin.
Myth 18 - MythChief Page 1
