The more I thought about it, the more I began to see pieces of myself reflected in the Pervish behavior. Kalvin had commented on my actively trying to be strong ... of being cold and ruthless in an effort to hide my own feared weaknesses. Was it all that different with the blustering Pervects who would rather shout than admit they might be wrong? Were my own feelings of insecurity and inadequacy making me insensitive and closed to the very people who could help me?
The thought was enough to inspire me to voice my frustrations to Edvick and ask if he had any thoughts as to alternate methods of searching the magikal community.
“I was just thinking about that, Skeeve,” he said over his shoulder, “but I didn’t figure it was my place to say anything unless you asked.”
“Well, I’m asking. After all, there’s no shame in admitting you know this dimension better than I do.”
That last was said as much to myself as to Edvick, but the cabbie accepted it in stride.
“Too true. Well, what I was thinking was that instead of working to get magicians to talk about potential competitors, maybe you should try checking the schools.”
“The schools?”
“Sure. You know, the places that teach these spell-slingers their trade. They should have some kind of records showing who’s learned what. What’s more, they should be willing to share them since you’re not a competitor.”
That made sense, but it seemed almost too easy.
“Even if that’s true, do you think they would bother to keep current addresses on their old students?”
“Are you kidding?” the cabbie laughed. “How else could the old Alma Mater be able to solicit donations from their alumni? This may not be Deva, but do you think a Pervect would lose track of a revenue source?”
I felt my hope being renewed as he spoke.
“That’s a great idea, Edvick! How many magik schools are there, anyway?”
“Not more than a dozen or so of any note. Nowhere near the number of businesses. If I were you, I’d start with the biggest and work your way down.
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Take me to the top of the list and don’t spare the lizards ... and Edvick? Thanks.”
The grounds of the Magikal Institute of Perv (MIP) occupied an entire city block. I say grounds because much of it was well trimmed lawns and bushes, a marked contrast to the closely packed buildings and alleys that seemed to compose the majority of Perv. Stately old buildings of brick or stone were scattered here and there, apparently oblivious to the bustling metropolis that screeched and honked scant yards from their tranquility. Looking at them, one could almost read their stoic thoughts: that if they ignored it long enough, maybe the rest of the world would go away.
There was an iron fence surrounding the school in token protection from intrusion, but the gate stood wide open. I peered out the windows of the cab in curiosity as we drove up to what Edvick said was the administration building, hoping to catch a glimpse of the students practicing their lessons, but was disappointed. The people I saw were much more interested in being young—skylarking and flirting with each other—than in demonstrating their learning to a casual visitor. I did, however, notice there were more than a few students from off-dimension in their number. Either the school was much more tolerant of off-worlders than the rest of the dimension, or they simply weren’t as picky about who they accepted money from. I never did get a chance to find out which it really was.
After a few inquiries, I was shown into the office of the head record keeper. That individual listened carefully to my story, though he was so still and outwardly calm that I found myself fighting a temptation to make a face at him in mid-sentence just to see if he was really paying attention. I have a hunch I would not do well in a formal educational environment.
“I see,” he said, once I had ground to a halt. “Well, your request seems reasonable. Aahz ... Aahz ... I don’t recall the name off-hand, but it does ring some sort of a bell. Oh well, we can check it easily enough. GRETTA!?”
In response to his call, a young female Pervect appeared in the office door. She glanced quickly at Pookie, who was leaning against the wall behind me, but except for that ignored my bodyguard as completely as the record keeper had.
“Yes, sir?”
“Gretta, this is Mr. Skeeve. He’s trying to locate someone who might have been a student here. I’d like you to help him locate the appropriate file in the archives ... if it exists. Mr. Skeeve, this is Gretta. She’s one of the apprentices here who helps us ... is something wrong?”
I had suddenly drawn back the hand I had been extending to shake hands with Gretta, and the record keeper had noted the move.
“Oh, nothing ... really,” I said, embarrassed. I quickly reached out and shook the offered hand. “It’s a ... bad habit I learned from Aahz. I really should break it. You were saying?”
The record keeper ignored my efforts to cover the social gaff.
“What bad habit is that?”
“It’s silly, but ... Well, Aahz, back when he was my teacher, wouldn’t shake hands with me once I became his apprentice. When we first met and after we became partners it was okay,
but not while I was his student. ‘I don’t shake hands with apprentices’ he used to say ... only louder. I hadn’t realized I had picked it up until just now. Sorry, Gretta. Nothing personal.”
“Of course ... Aahzmandius!”
The record keeper seemed suddenly excited.
“Excuse me?” I said, puzzled.
“Gretta, this won’t require a file search after all. Bring me the file on Aahzmandius ... it will be in the dropout file ... three or four centuries back if I recall correctly.”
Once the apprentice had scampered off, the record keeper returned his attention to me once more.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Skeeve. I just managed to recall the individual you’re looking for. Refusing to shake hands with apprentices was the tipoff. It was one of his least objectionable quirks. Aahzmandius! After all these years I can still remember him.”
After searching so long I was reluctant to believe my luck.
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? Aahz?”
“Oh my, yes. That’s why the name rang a bell. Aahz was the nickname Aahzmandius would use when he was exercising his dubious love of practical jokes ... or doing anything else he didn’t want reflected on his permanent record, for that matter. There was a time when that name would strike terror into the hearts of any under-classman on campus.”
“I take it he wasn’t a particularly good student?” I said, trying to hide my grin.
“Oh, on the contrary, he was one of the brightest students we’ve ever had here. That’s much of why the faculty and administration were willing to overlook the ... um, less social aspects of his character. He was at the head of his class while he was here, and everyone assumed a bright future for him. I’m not sure he was aware of it, but long before he was slated to graduate, there was a raging debate going on about him among the faculty. One side felt that every effort should be made to secure him a position with the institute as an instructor after he graduated. The other felt that with his arrogant distaste for inferiors, placing him in constant contact with students would ... well, let’s just say they felt his temperament would be better suited to private practice, and the school could benefit best by simply accepting his financial contributions as an alumni ... preferably mailed from far away.”
I was enthralled by this new insight into Aahz’s background. However, I could not help but note there was something that didn’t seem to fit with the record keeper’s oration.
“Excuse me,” I said, “but didn’t I hear you tell Gretta to look in the dropout file for Aahz’s records? If he was doing so well, why didn’t he graduate?”
The Pervect heaved a great sigh, a look of genuine pain on his face.
“His family
lost their money in a series of bad investments. With his financial support cut off, he dropped out of school ... left quietly in the middle of a semester even though his tuition had been paid in full for the entire term. We offered him a scholarship so that he could complete his education ... there was even a special meeting held specifically to get the necessary approvals so he wouldn’t be kept dangling until the scholarship board would normally convene. He wouldn’t accept it, though. It’s a shame, really. He had such potential.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Aahz I know,” I frowned. “I’ve never known him to refuse money. Usually, he wouldn’t even wait for it to be offered ... not nailing it down would be considered enough of an invitation for him to help himself. Did he give any reason for not accepting the scholarship?”
“No, but it was easy enough to understand at the time. His family had been quite well off, you see, and he had lorded his wealth over the less fortunate as much or more than he had harassed them with his superior abilities. I think he left school because he couldn’t bear to face his old cronies, much less his old victims, in his new cash poor condition. Basically, he was too proud to be a scholarship student after having established himself as a campus aristocrat. Aahzmandius may not refuse money, but I think you’ll find he has an aversion to charity ... or anything that might be construed as such.”
It all made sense. The portrait he was painting of Aahz, or as he was known here, Aahzmandius, seemed to confirm the Butterfly’s analysis of my old mentor’s financial habits. If he had suffered from embarrassment and seen his plans for the future ruined because of careless money management, it stood to reason that he would respond by becoming ultra-conservative if not flat out miserly when it came to accumulating and protecting our cache of hard cash.
“Ah! Here we are.”
I was pulled out of my musings by the record keeper’s exclamation at Gretta’s return. I felt my anticipation rise as he took the offered folder and began perusing its contents. For the first time since arriving on Perv, I was going to have a solid lead on how to find Aahz. Then I noticed he was frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Skeeve,” the record keeper said, glancing up from the folder. “It seems we don’t have a current address for your associate. The note here says ‘Traveling.’ I guess that, realizing his financial situation, we haven’t been as diligent about keeping track of him as we’ve been with our other alumni.”
I fought against a wave of disappointment, unwilling to believe that after everything I had been through, this was going to turn out to be another dead end.
“Didn’t he have a school or business or something? I met one of his apprentices once.”
The Pervect shook his head.
“No. That we would have known about. He may have been willing to instruct a few close friends or relatives ... that’s not uncommon for someone who’s studied here. But I think I can say for sure that he hasn’t been doing any formal teaching here or on any other dimension. We would have heard, if for no other reason than his students would have contacted us to confirm his credentials.”
Now that he mentioned it, I did recall that Rupert, the apprentice I had met, had specifically been introduced as Aahz’s nephew. Overcome with a feeling of hopelessness, I almost missed what the record keeper said next.
“Speaking of relatives. We do have an address for his next of kin ... in this case, his mother. Perhaps if you spoke to her, you might find out his current whereabouts.”
THE SEARCH FOR the address the record keeper had given me led us onto some of the dimension’s side streets which made up the residential areas. Though at first Perv seems to be composed entirely of businesses, there is also a thriving neighborhood community just a few steps off the main business and transportation drags.
I’ll admit to not being thrilled by the neighborhood Aahz’s mother lived in once we found it. Not that it looked particularly rough or dirty ... at least no dirtier than the rest of the dimension. It’s just that it was ... well, shabby. The buildings and streets were so run-down that I found it depressing to think anyone, much less the mother of a friend of mine, would live there.
“I’ll wait for you here on the street,” Pookie announced as I emerged from the taxi.
I looked at her, surprised.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“I figure it’s more important to guard your escape route,” she said. “I don’t think there’s any danger inside, unless the place falls down when you knock on the door ... and I couldn’t help there anyway. Why? Are you expecting more trouble than you can handle from one old lady?”
Since I didn’t have a snappy retort for that, I proceeded up the porch steps to the door. There was a list of names with a row of buttons beside them. I found the name of Aahz’s mother with no difficulty, and pressed the button next to it.
A few moments later, a voice suddenly rasped from the wall next to my elbow.
“Who is it?”
It only took a few seconds for me to figure out that it was some kind of speaker system.
“It’s ... I’m a friend of your son, Aahz ... Aahzmandius, that is. I was wondering if I might talk to you for a few moments?”
There was a long pause before the reply came back. “I suppose if you’re already here I might as well talk to you. Come right up.”
There was a sudden raucous buzzing at the door. I waited patiently, and in a few moments it stopped. I continued waiting.
“Are you still down there?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why didn’t you open the door and come in when I buzzed you through?”
“Oh, is that what that was? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Could you ... buzz me through again?”
“What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a remote lock before?”
I suppose it was meant as a rhetorical question, but my annoyance at being embarrassed prompted me to answer.
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t. I’m just visiting this dimension. We don’t have anything like it back on Klah.”
There was a long silence, long enough for me to wonder if it had been a mistake to admit I was from off-dimension. The buzzer went off, somehow catching me unaware again even though I had been expecting it.
This time, I managed to get the door open before the buzzing stopped, and stepped through into the vestibule. The lighting was dim, and got downright dark after I let the door shut. I started to open it again to get my bearings, but pulled my hand back at the last minute. It might set off an alarm somewhere, and if there was one thing I didn’t need right now it was more trouble.
Slowly my eyes adjusted to the shadowy dimness, and I could make out a narrow hall with an even narrower flight of stairs which vanished into the gloom above. Come right up she had said, so I took her literally and started up the stairs ... hoping all the while I was right.
After ascending several flights, this hope was becoming fervent. There was no sign of habitation on any of the halls I passed, and the way the stairs creaked and groaned under me, I wasn’t at all sure I wasn’t heading into a condemned area of the building.
Just when I was about to yield to my fears and retreat to the ground floor, the stairs ended. The apartment I was looking for was right across the hall from where I stood, so I had little choice but to proceed. Raising my hand, I knocked gently, afraid that anything more violent might trigger a catastrophic chain reaction.
“Come in! It’s open!”
Summoning my courage, I let myself in.
The place was both tiny and jammed with clutter. I had the impression one could reach out one’s arms and touch the opposing walls simultaneously. In fact, I had to fight against the impulse to do exactly that, as the walls and their contents appeared to be on the brink of caving in. I think it was t
hen I discovered that I was mildly claustrophobic.
“So you’re a friend of that no-account Aahzmandius. I knew he’d come to no good, but I never dreamed he’d sink so low as to hang around with a Klahd.”
This last was uttered by what had to be Aahz’s mother ... it had to be because she was the only person in the room besides myself! My eye had passed over her at first, she was so much a part of the apartment, but once she drew my attention, she seemed to dominate the entire environs ... if not the whole dimension.
Remember when I said that Pookie was one of two types of females I had noted on Perv? Well, Aahz’s mother was the other type. While Pookie was sleek and muscular in an almost serpentine way, the figure before me resembled nothing so much as a huge toad ... a green, scaly, reptilian toad. (I have since had it pointed out to me that toads are amphibians and not reptiles, but at the time that’s what she made me think of.)
She was dressed in a baggy housecoat, which made her seem even more bloated than she really was. The low, stuffed chair she was sitting in was almost obscured from view by her bulk, which seemed to swell over the sides of the chair and flow onto the mottled carpet. There was a tangle of white string on her lap, which she jabbed at viciously with a small, barbed stick she was holding. At first, it gave the illusion she was torturing string, but then I noticed there were similar masses draped over nearly every available flat surface in the apartment, and concluded that she was involved in some kind of craft project, the nature of which was beyond my knowledge or appreciation.
“Good afternoon, Mrs ... ”
“Call me Duchess,” she snapped. “Everyone does. Don’t know why, though ... haven’t had royalty on this dimension for generations. Beheaded them all and divvied up their property ... those were the days!”
MA08 Myth-Nomers and Im-Pervections Page 14
