Myth 18 - MythChief

by Asprin, Robert

  “I don't want to do it myself,” the Orkta said, his pale green face glowing phosphorescent. “Are you calling me spineless?”

  I didn't have a reply that wouldn't sound insulting, so I just summoned my bouncer. “Gleep!”

  “Sorry,” I said, looking up blearily at the Indigone. I had spent another long day listening to would-​be clients trying to hire me for straightforward magikal enterprises. “What's the question you need answered?”

  That took the burly, blue-​furred gentleman aback. He thought about it. “How much will it cost me to get you to go and get my grandfather's picture back from my ex-​wife before she sells it?”

  “That's not really what I do,” I explained, for maybe the twentieth time that day. “You know what you need. You don't require my advice. There's no mystery here. You need someone to go and talk your ex into giving up the portrait, steal it, or buy it from her.”

  “Yeah,” the fellow said. “Someone. You. How about it?”

  I shook my head. “Not me. I know some great people who can take the job on for a reasonable fee,” I said, reach-​ing into my desk for the top card off the stack of M.Y.T.H., Inc. cards I had placed there. “Er, you don't have to tell them I sent you. The ... er... price might go up if you do.”

  “Gotcha,” the fellow said, rising. He took the little paste-​board and stowed it away in a lock of fur. “Whatever. I might just go steal it back myself since you mention it.”

  “I'm not suggesting that,” I said, in alarm. “Forget it, guy.” The fellow leered. “I never heard it from you.”

  When the flap closed behind him, I could see Bunny grinning at me from the doorway. “Don't say it,” I warned her. “Not a word,” she promised me. I clutched my head.

  None of the potential clients were giving me the chance I needed to prove myself! I faced a more complex chal-​lenge than I had ever foreseen. Not only was I trying to get my new business going, but I had to keep from cheating my old partners.

  “Go get some lunch,” Bunny said. “I'll mind the store. Maybe a good prospect will come in while you're gone.”

  “I'll bring you a sandwich,” I promised.

  “Hey, Skeeve,” Gus the Gargoyle called to me, as I entered the Golden Crescent Inn. After the carefully low-​key decor of my new office, the inn almost sent my eyeballs into sen-​sory overload. Every surface was brightly colored and shiny, reflecting the magikal light that issued from round white balls scattered around the ceiling. “The usual?”

  “Strawberry milk shake,” I agreed, leaning on the coun-​ter. “And today's special.”

  “One usual coming up,” he said, brightly. “And a usual for Bunny when you're done?”

  “Right,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I found a seat at a corner table and sat with my back against the wall, with a good view of the restaurant. I har-​bored no illusion that I was as safe here as I was in my own

  home or office. Most people liked me, but I knew some who felt grudges against me and my friends. I waved a ca-​sual hello to faces that I knew. Some looked surprised to see me, but some didn't. Word got around fast.

  Gus himself brought my tray. He offered me the milk shake, straw already bent to the angle I favored. I took an appreciative sip.

  “No one makes them like you do,” I said.

  “Thanks, Skeeve,” the Gargoyle said, in his gravelly voice. “Hey. it's nice to have you for a neighbor. Glad you're back in town.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You got a moment?” he asked.

  “For you? Anytime. Do you want to sit down?”

  “Nah. On duty. Well, listen . ..” Gus looked uncomfort-​able, his craggy jaw working. “I noticed that you haven't got any of the old gang with you. Except Miss Bunny.”

  “No,” I said cautiously.

  “I don't have to know why. Ain't none of my business. I just wanted to know ... y'know . .. nah.” “What is it, Gus?” I asked.

  He looked sheepish, not an easy maneuver for someone with a solid stone face.

  “Well, you know, if you are lookin' for some new old help. I mean, we worked together once, and you thought I did a good job ... Have any room for me?”

  “Well...” I knew I was gawking. Gus's mouth turned down, and he backed hastily away from the table.

  “I can see you hesitate. Never mind.”

  “Wait!” I said.

  The first thought that wanted to jump out of my mouth was that I had wanted to open this new business by myself, and see how I did, before I would even consider asking any-​one else to join me.

  The thought was overtaken by a second thought that was a lot wiser and a lot more painful to contemplate.

  What was I trying to prove? Who was I trying to prove something to? Myself? I already knew that I never got any-​where I wanted to go on my own. Why shouldn't I have one of my oldest and best friends around?

  “Gee, Gus,” I said. “Please come back. Sit down. I was just surprised. I'm not looking for help because I just don't have any jobs yet. I don't even really know what I'm going to be doing yet.”

  “Really?” Gus asked, looking surprised. “With all the people who've been walking in and out, I thought you had lined up a dozen missions already. I mean, Tanda and the others have been in here every day, watching out the front window.”

  “They have?” I felt guilty all over again. I guess they were still upset if they never came in to visit.

  “Yeah. They're curious about how you're doing.” Gus tilted his head. “What do you want me to tell them?”

  I sighed. “Tell them the truth, Gus. I don't lie to them. I... I've just been so busy getting set up, I haven't seen much of them. It's my fault.”

  “Well, Skeeve, I'm sure it'll all be okay. In the meantimeif you meant it. ..” “I meant it,” I assured him. “Once I know what I'm do-​ing, if I can use you, I will.” The big gray face split in a grin. “You're a pal.”

  I dodged the usual noisome and noisy traffic crossing the street again. When I approached the tent I was surprised. The crowd that had been hanging around for the last few days had dispersed. Completely. I peered up the street. Perhaps Bunny had asked the throng to make a little room for newcomers to enter and make appointments. I poked my head inside.

  “There you are,” Bunny said. I extended the folded paper bag to her. “Thanks. I need that.” She put a straw into her milk shake.

  “Where are all the clients'?” I asked.

  “No clients,” she said simply. “All the curiosity-​seekers have gotten a look at the new premises. You've turned down jobs from all the prospects who made appointments. They started talking to one another when you took a break, and they just left.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I didn't anticipate that. So, no one's going to hire me?” I felt my heart drop to my knees.

  Bunny reached over and patted my hand. “Just be pa-​tient. Let's distribute some more cards, and see who turns up.”

  The next visitor wasn't a potential client, but an old friend. The lent flap yielded to a scaly green hand. I was out of my seat and halfway across the room before I realized that the Pervect entering my office was not Aahz.

  “Hi, Pookie,” I said, slowing to a walk. My heart took a little longer to return to its normal pace. “Hi, Spider.”

  Aahz's cousin was a good deal younger than he was, a lot more slender and, if you can believe it of a Pervect, more formidable-​looking. She favored clingy jumpsuits, which served to distract opponents and conceal a surpris-​ing number of weapons, considering how tightly they hugged her body, an action I was very unlikely to emulate. We shook hands. Behind her was a skinny Klahd female whom I recognized as Spider. The two of them had been working together both as operatives for M.Y.T.H., Inc. and on their own. Spider gave me a shy grin.

  “How's it going?” she asked.

  “All right so far,” I said cautiously.

  “You don't have to try and fool us, Skeeve,” the Pervect said, showing her four-​i
nch teeth. “Thanks for the refer-​rals, by the way. I just got back from bringing a runaway Nymph home to her family. Guido is out on a job to negoti-​ate the return of a family heirloom. The clients said you told them to come to us, but not to tell us you sent them. That wasn't necessary.”

  “Is everyone still mad at me?” I asked. I didn't mean to sound plaintive, but I guess I did.

  “No one's really mad,” Spider said. “We were a little surprised, I suppose. It's funny: after all of them wishing for so long that you would come back, when you did turn up, they didn't react too well.”

  “It's my fault,” I said. “I guess I should have come in and talked about it before.”

  Pookie shook her head. “It wouldn't matter how you did it. It was a big change. You just administered it in one sin-​gle shock. We all knew you'd take over the Bazaar again if you came back. I guess no one had thought about how it would really affect them.”

  “But I might not have come back here,” I said, a little peeved. "I could have set up in some other

  dimension. Maybe not Klah, but there are other places where my tal-​ents would be appreciated."

  “Get real,” Pookie said, without rancor, but without sympathy, either. “The Bazaar is like the crossroads of the world. You might have bought a storefront in Flibber3 or somewhere with a big, cosmopolitan population, but this is where people go first to find what they're looking for. Ev-​erywhere else is second-​best. We all knew you'd come back here one day.”

  “It sounds obvious when you say it like that,” I said.

  “You know it, too. So, we should all have been talking more. It doesn't matter,” the Pervect female said, shrug--

  3. For a useful travelogue of the delights of Flibber, read Myth-​Taken Identity, another fine tale.

  ging. “There's room for all of us, as long as you don't move in on the old turf. It's ours now, and we need it. If you start showing an interest, we'll all go broke. Guido might as well move M.Y.T.H., Inc. into The Mall in Flibber next to Hamsterama. I'm sure you'll make a bundle.”

  “But I have no clients yet.”

  Spider gave me a big hug, and I felt my spirits rise.

  “Don't worry. Once they know the Great Skeeve is back in business, they'll beat a path to your door.”

  They turned to go. Pookie looked back at me.

  “Just one more thing. Skeeve. Not everyone is com-​pletely thrilled about your return. Just a friendly re-​minder.”

  “Who?” I asked, alarmed.

  She shook her head. “I just heard it from one of my con-​nections. Thought you ought to know. Keep your back covered. That's all.”

  I set my jaw grimly. “Thanks for the warning,” I said. Bunny's eyes were wide. “I wonder where that rumor came from?”

  I gnawed on a knuckle. “I can't pretend I don't have en-​emies,” I said. I had plenty, if I stopped to think about it.

  With Pookie's words in mind, I shored up the defenses in our tent. Using the plentiful energy from the force lines overhead, I strung several fine lines of magik that would warn us of intruders. Then I leaned out the back door of our tent, into the fenced-​in yard that abutted our office building in the next dimension. The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle was falling, but the white beast munching grass at the far end of the enclosure didn't seem bothered by it.

  “Buttercup,” I called.

  The war unicorn came charging toward me and planted his muzzle in my palm. I had thought to put a lump of sugar there as a treat. I stroked his mane.

  “Buttercup, I've got a job for you.” His eyes rolled, and his nostrils flared. He understood a fair amount of Klahdish, but I think he read more

  in my demeanor than in my words. Gleep stuck his nose under my elbow.

  “Maybe you can translate for me,” I told him. “I need you and Buttercup to patrol the tent to make sure no one breaks in. I don't know who's out to get us, but better safe than sorry. You'll be checking things inside, and he'll keep an eye on things back here, to make sure no one sneaks up on us. All right?”

  “Gleep!” Gleep touched noses with the unicorn. When Buttercup straightened up, he gave a mighty snort, then danced away, making his first circuit of the yard at a gal-​lop. At each corner he reared up magnificently and let out a yodeling neigh that made the orange-​skinned neighbors glance up from their flower beds. I thought he looked hap-​pier than he had in years. Big Julie was right. He needed to feel needed. Didn't we all?

  In spite of Spider's confidence, no one beat a path to my door. Bunny and I distributed piles of my new business cards around the Bazaar, asking merchants to let them sit on the corner of a counter or a table, where potential cli-​ents could pick them up. If they did, we never knew about it. The door of the tent remained undisturbed all that after-​noon and on into the evening. We finally gave up waiting and swatting at Humbees, and went out for dinner.

  “I dunno, Skeeve,” the Sen-​Sen Ante Kid said. He was a large, fat man with surprisingly soft hands who was the best Dragon Poker player in all the dimensions. I owned a half interest in the club he played in when he was in the Bazaar. The food was decent. The real attraction was the games of chance and, if he was in town, watching the Kid clean up against the local talent. He gestured at the untidy heap of business cards at the end of the green-​baize-​covered counter adjacent to his special table. “People picked up the cards, read 'em, and put 'em down again. I don't think they have a clue what 'The Right Answer,' means, and they're not gonna pay you to tell them.”

  “Are we being too mysterious?” I asked.

  The Kid considered the question.

  “Maybe. Nobody likes to feel like they don't understand somethin'. And answers are what people think they can figure out for themselves. They pay for merchandise. They pay for food. They pay for magikal services. You might give them a little better hint what you're offering.”

  “No,” Bunny said, thoughtfully. “I think we hit it just right. We don't want you to be inundated, and we don't want you running out to solve simple problems. The people who will respond to that will be the ones who really need you enough to swallow their pride and ask.”

  “That's brilliant,” I said, shaking my head. “It's not like I need the money. I want a challenge.”

  “You'll get it,” the Kid said. “Now that I get what you're looking for, I'll talk it up. Meanwhile, do you want to play? Just for fun?” He shuffled the deck at his fingertips. The cards seemed to dance in the air before gathering together again in a smooth rectangle in the Kid's hand.

  “No way.” I laughed. “That's a question I can answer, no charge.”

  “You want a piece of advice?” the Kid asked, as we turned to go. “Don't worry too hard about fitting in a niche. Just relax and go with the flow, but keep your eyes open. That's what I do.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Myth 18 - MythChief

  FIVE

  “You have to put family first.”

  CAIN

  I admit I eyed the Imp with jaundice as he sidled into the room. Imps, with their bright pink skin and small, almost vestigial horns, looked like lesser Deveels. They weren't as smart, as cunning, or as sartorially sophisticated, but they were sneaky and determined. His shiny, houndstooth checked suit was of somewhat better quality than most of the folk I had met from his dimension. That meant he had the wherewithal to pay for my advice.

  “So. er, Marmel, what kind of question can I answer for you?” I asked, glancing at his solid-​tin business card.

  “My old dad died last month,” he said. Figuring he didn't look woebegone enough, he whipped a blue-​and-​yellow-​spotted handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his eyes, which teared on cue. Even I could smell the onion he had hidden in the folds of cloth. I coughed, and he put the vegetable back in his pocket. “I've got a sister, see? Her name's Marmilda. Our old mother's gone, too. We're orphans.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” I said. “How can I help?”

  �
��Glad you want to,” Marmel said, grinning affably, his fake tears forgotten. He stuffed the cloth back into his pocket. “It's like this: Dad left us both a share in the family business. That's okay. We make wolidgins. Best in all of Imper. Marmilda runs the operation. I'm the head of sales. That's fine.”

  I nodded, making a mental note to look up “wolidgins ” “Then what's the problem?”

  “Weil, outside of the business and the homeit's not exactly a mansion, but it's big enough for us and our fami-​lies, see?there isn't much else. Except for the Hoho Jug.”

  “The what?”

  “That's what the old man always called it. His prized possession. It's worth a bundle. Powerful magik. It's a big pitcher, real fancy looking. You can pour wine out of it forever. It never runs dry.”

  “Why's it called the Hoho Jug?” “When you holler down if the echo sounds kind of like 'ho- ho.'”

  I shrugged. Imps weren't known for having a lot of imag-​ination. “Why do you need my help with the Hoho Jug?”

  “Well, I figure, that since I'm the outside rep for our business, it ought to go to me. Also, I'm the only son. Marmilda, she's the eldest, and she thinks, that since she's running the place, she wants to keep the employees happy, it ought to go to her.”

  “Who did your father want to have it? What's his will say''”

  “No will,” Marmel said, with a shrug. “We've looked everywhere. And that's what I don't get, because he was always meticulous about paperwork. But, look, we were both there at Dad's deathbed, and I swear he looked right at me and said I ought to have it.”

  “Were those his exact words?” I asked, reaching for a pencil. This was starting to sound promising.

  “Nope. Sounded more like 'uh wah uh uh uv ah.' But that's what it sounded like to me. So, I asked again. I said, 'Dad, who gets the Hoho Jug?' And he pointed.” “At you?” I asked.

  “Well.” Marmel didn't sound too certain. "Marmilda was sitting next to me. She says he pointed at her.

  I'm pretty certain he pointed at me. Look, Mr. Skeeve, I need your help. When Dad died, the Hoho Jug disappeared. Dad told us plenty of times that it will only reappear when the right-​ful heir calls it back. Marmilda said if she gets it, she's going to sell it to raise capital. I don't want it out of the family. It's my inheritance. What do you say?"