Chumley came back from the bar with a tray of drinks and lowered his big furry posterior into an armchair.
"Okay, talk," he uttered tersely in my direction.
We had known each other a long time. The two-word sentence meant that he had spoken to the bartender and intimated that we didn't want to be disturbed by anyone. If we wanted more drinks, we'd come and get them.
I turned to our visitor, who was sipping carefully at a Mango Lassie.
"So, you say you're an investigator. What are you doing here?"
Ignoring the disapproving Parvattani, she reached into the thick fur on the front of her torso and slid a small object across the table to me.
"My badge. I am field agent for Ratislavan Intelligence. I know who you are. If you are sensible, we can help each other."
"How?"
Eskina leaned forward conspiratorially.
"I have been on the tail of a small-time wanna-be wizard named Rattila. He stole an experimental philosophical device from the Ratislavan Research Workshops."
It was a new name to me, but Massha nodded.
"I've got a few things from them." she said. "Very nice work, and dependable, too. Very upscale presentation. They work mostly in precious metals." "True," Eskina agreed. "This is a solid gold artifact I seek. It is very distinctive, but, alas, very small. I have asked these fools to help me"—she threw a scornful hand toward Par—"but they sneer."
"She is making it all up," Parvattani insisted.
"And you would know, how? You never listen to me!"
I was growing tired of their bickering.
"Ain't love grand?" I inquired of Massha and Chumley.
"All right!" Eskina said, embarrassed. "Here is what I know. Perhaps after I tell you, we can work together."
"How do you know what we're here for?" I asked, suspiciously. "For all you know we're looking for shoes for this lady."
Eskina waved a hand.
"I have been following you all day. I heard what you told Mr. Moa and what you asked the shopkeepers. Unless you are fibbing to everyone, then our purposes lie together."
"Go on," I offered, intrigued.
She was an observant character, if nothing else. I wish half the people I ran into had that going for them.
"This device, it is a magikal amplifier of great power. Ratislava is proud of its accomplishments in both magik and science. Our alchemists were working on it to enhance spells and other great workings in places where there are few lines of force, such as our own dimension. We know we are capable of more, but our native talent in manipulating magik is limited. We hope to accomplish greater things. We know we are capable. Only the means escapes us. The grand chief wizard, who, if you will forgive me, is not much in the enchantment department but is a great talker, believes that this will be the big breakthrough that will enable Ratislava to evolve a few real magicians. At present only prototypes of the device exist. It doesn't work for everyone; the basic potential must be there. This was the most powerful. Our leaders had great hopes for it. And then it disappeared."
"Do you know who took it?" I asked.
"Who could it be but Rattila?" Eskina countered, spreading her tiny pawlike hands out before us. "One of your potential wizards?" Massha inquired, cocking a professional eye.
Eskina spat.
"Cats, no! He worked as a cleaner in the building. A menial. He is not very intelligent, I am afraid, but very ambitious. When he and the device disappeared at the same time, we investigated. No trace of him could be found, so it was assumed he employed the latent power in the device to flee the dimension. His mother was surprised. She said he was always such a quiet loner."
"Uh-huh," I acknowledged. "Those are the ones you have to watch."
"Yes." Eskina sighed. "Now we wish that we had. But how many eyes can we keep on the janitorial staff? Must we never hire quiet loners? Eh? For a job where one pushes a broom or uses a cleansing spell to clear the air of ecto-plasmic matter late at night when no one is there, must we employ a jocular and outgoing individual? I would think that would create much more trouble than taking chances upon employees who do well alone."
"Don't look at me," I said. "I only deal with rampant individualist self-starters. The others get complacent and lazy and never solve a problem on their own."
Eskina nodded. "I see we understand one another."
"This has nothing to do with our thieves," Parvattani grumbled.
"Far from it," Eskina corrected, but speaking directly to me. "My assignment is to get the device and return it to the alchemists' lab. Misused, it will transform the one who invokes it in such a way that he is no longer a natural being but a creature of energy."
"So? It sounds like the problem will solve itself."
"Eventually! It is a very long process. In the meantime, the problem is that it gleans its energy from a chosen source. It is designed to tap into force lines. That is no trouble; those are nonsentient and eternally replenished."
I held up a hand. "I see where this is going. You think this Rattila is drawing his power from living beings." "I feel certain of this," Eskina insisted. She poked a sharp finger into Parvattani's fancy tunic. "You have seen the husks yourself, the sad ones who shuffle around. They have no minds, no will of their own. They go forward with no memory of who they are or what they are doing there. They are the remains of normal shoppers who have been drained by the talent device."
"That's bad," Massha declared, horrified.
"How? How does the object gather power from those people?" I demanded.
I remembered the people she was talking about. I winced, picturing Skeeve meandering around like a mechanical windup toy.
"Through the Law of Contagion, direct contact, or contact with something that once touched the target. It is more difficult with force lines, which is why this is still a prototype. Making a physical connection with a force line is still in the theoretical stages. But living beings, though their potential is much less, are very easy to reach out and touch. It takes draining many to accomplish what would be quite swift and harmless if the device could be used in the manner it was intended."
"What's this got to do with the shapechangers who impersonate honest shoppers?" Par asked, pugnaciously.
"Everything! That must be an intermediate stage, manifested by the device. Taking action in the form of a targeted being strengthens a connection. Hence the purchases—affirmation of his tastes, his wealth. The longer that another person pretends to an identity, the more readily it is stripped away from the person to whom it belonged in the first place. Because this device is only an experimental one, we do not know precisely how Rattila manages to transfer the energy from one person to another. This is where your friend is in the most danger: Rattila seeks especially those who have magikal talent."
Parvattani seemed to be wrestling with a thought. It finally made its way out of his mouth.
"Tell her," he spat out. "What?"
"I can't reveal information that came to me in an official capacity. You must. Tell her what you saw at The Volcano."
I did. Eskina's round brown eyes grew rounder as I gave her all the details I could remember about the shapechang-er with the deck of cards by the clothes rack.
"But this must be related! The device, too, is in the shape of a card. The eventual and irreversible mindlessness will happen to Skeeve unless Aahz can stop it. Rattila wants to collect enough power to transform himself into the greatest magician in the universe, using a device obtained from a wizard he ripped off many years ago."
"I refuse to let Skeeve get shopped to death," I said, darkly.
My companions agreed heartily.
"What do we do first?" Massha asked.
"Cut him off," I said. "If the key to draining someone is by impersonating him, then the impersonator can't be allowed to make any more purchases in Skeeve's name."
"I'll put out an all-points bulletin at once," Par said, reaching into his pocket. His hand came up empty, and his cheeks turned
a bright shade of green. "My globe's in my uniform. I'll have to go back to my quarters for it."
"Make it snappy," Massha urged him.
"But what about you? I am supposed to show you around."
"I can guide them," Eskina suggested.
When Parvattani made a face, she made one back.
"What do you think? I have been here for a long time looking for Rattila. I know this place as well as you do— better, maybe! Come on," she urged us. "He can find us later."
SEVEN
"I'm overwhelmed," Massha admitted, as we left the Mystikal Bar. "This place is too huge! I mean, normally I would be overjoyed to have more stores at my fingertips than I could ever shop in a lifetime, but I'm at a loss. How do we cover them all?"
I had no idea, but as the leader of this expedition, I had to show leadership, and the first key of good leadership is delegation of responsibilities.
"You're the friendly almost-native guide around here," I said to Eskina, who was trotting along a pace ahead of me like a tiny Sherpa. "Where would you start looking for someone?"
"We are going there," the Ratislavan investigator informed me, with an airy wave. "The center of The Mall is the center of the community."
"Community?" Chumley asked.
"But of course! When you work day by day next to someone else, you get to know them, no? It is a neighborhood. Even if you do not sleep there, it is as though you live there. People you see every day, customers who come in all the time, the complainers, the bargain hunters—"
I slapped my forehead. "It's the Bazaar except indoors," I exclaimed, feeling like a dope. "Who's in charge here? A Merchants' Association?"
"The administration," Eskina replied. "The shopkeepers do not have an association, but that is a good idea. I will begin to talk it up with my friends. They have some concerns that the administration does not always address."
I grimaced. If I'd just provided the seeds of subversion, I wasn't going to let it get traced back to me if I could help it. "No, I mean who's really in charge. The administration's in charge of the physical plant, assigning spaces, collecting rent. Who's the mayor of this burb? Who's the goto guy, or the one you really don't want to piss off?"
"Ah!" Eskina nodded. "This is more sense. The Barista, of course. I will take you to the coffee shop."
I began to get a better idea of how The Mall was laid out as we walked. Big stores formed anchor points at intersections, with strings of small, smaller, and downright tiny establishments linking them. According to the map most of them were as modest as they appeared. Not many had taken the transdimensional route as The Volcano had.
The parallels between The Mall and the Bazaar became more obvious the farther we went. I noticed a delicate little Gnome female weighing out gems for a pair of burly horned-and-hooved travelers at the booth of the currency exchange she ran. Behind them, out of their line of vision but fully in sight of the Gnome were a couple of Trolls from the bar next door, each holding a club in case the travelers got rowdy. The transaction came to. an end, the customers thanked her and departed, and the Trolls melted unobtrusively back into their establishment. Eskina was right: neighbors, looking out for one another.
A sign pinned to the wall read "Rub My Belly, two silver pieces." Underneath it, on the floor, a large dog lay on his back, wiggling seductively. He lifted his nose and sniffed, then whined. "Eskina!"
The Ratislavan hurried over to fondle the dog's belly.
"How are you, Radu?" she asked.
"Very well. No sniff of the scent you seek."
"Ah, well." The female sighed. "Thank you for being vigilant."
"How about you?" Radu looked up at us with big brown eyes. "Reduced rates for friends of my friends?"
Massha smiled. "Why not?" She stooped to tickle the dog's hairy stomach. "Reminds me of my Hugh." Radu writhed all over with pleasure. "That reminds me of Hugh, too."
I groaned. "Too much information, Massha." I strode on.
"Hey, friend," a whinnying voice hailed me. I glanced in that direction. A huge, dappled gray horse stood at the door of a well-lit shop with a swinging sign emblazoned shire oat meals hanging horizontally on a pole over his head. Inside I could see a host of customers of several species, including Klahds, standing at a high bar, dining with spoons or eating right out of the dish. He tossed his head, making his long white mane dance. "Come in and try a bowl! Best oatmeal you'll ever taste! Today's special is whole grain cereal, with a bright red pippin on the side."
"No, thanks," I called back. "I like my food a little more active."
"Perverts," whispered his coworker, a smaller black steed.
It was meant to be an aside, but my species has very keen hearing. I don't take that kind of abuse from anybody.
"Do you want to be the main course?" I bellowed.
"Neigh!" she whickered in alarm, backing into the diner with a clatter of hooves.
The gray rider blew out his lips at me. "There's no need to be offensive," he chided.
"Maybe you'll remember next time: it's Pervect!"
"Aahz!" Massha poked me in the head with a finger. She was floating above our heads. "Say, Eskina, is it always this warm in here?" "Not really," Eskina replied. "Normally the climate is very well controlled. The volcano underneath the mall generates geothermal energy to run the technology that .many of the shops are selling. And it keeps us very warm in the winter. But this is summer, and it is much too hot. The building engineer is falling behind in his job. Ah, here he comes! Jack!" She jumped up and down, waving to a fair-haired male in a pointed red cap with a bobble on the end.
I saw him skimming toward us as the crowd parted to let him by. He stood about my height, clad in a red jacket and breeches. Effortlessly, he nipped in and out of clusters of shoppers, gliding smoothly on one foot, then the other.
He didn't have skates on. I realized, as I saw vapor condensing around his body in the hot air, that he had to be a weather wizard or something equally powerful. As he got closer I saw a trail of ice form where his feet touched the floor. With his heels together and feet pointing outward in a straight line from toe to toe, he skimmed around us in ever-decreasing circles until he came to a halt directly in front of the Ratislavan.
"Eskina!" he exclaimed, sweeping her up in his arms. He had the features of a well-fed elf, with light blue eyes and strawberry blond hair framing an agreeably round face, pink on the apples of the cheeks and the tip of his sharp nose, but pale everywhere else. His ears, unlike the locals', had only one point each.
"Put me down," Eskina chided him, tapping him on the chest. "You will freeze me."
"Sorry." He grinned. "I don't know my own BTUs, sometimes."
"Let me present new friends," she offered, introducing us each by name. "You have probably heard of Jack Frost?" she asked me.
I received a solid handshake and drew back a hand chilled to the bone.
"The Jack Frost?" I asked. "The elemental?"
"Yup!" that dignitary replied cheerfully. "Nice to meet you! Are you shopping for something special today?" "No, they are not," Eskina corrected him, before I could speak. "They are going to help me find Rattila."
"Wait a minute, I didn't say that," I argued.
The pale blue eyes met mine sincerely. "That's really good of you. Eskina's kept her nose to the ground, but she's only one person. This is an awfully big place. It's too easy for an interdimensional criminal to hide out here. I'm only a contractor, so Mall administration doesn't listen to me, but things are really heating up around here, and I do not mean the temperature. Speaking of which," he added, raising his nose as though sniffing the air, "it is too warm. Stand back a bit, folks."
Jack inhaled deeply, then blew. His breath shot outward in a white cone, and the whiteness radiated outward to the walls. I prefer a cool room to a hot one, but this was one abrupt change. If there'd been a bag of peas hanging in front of him it would have been flash-frozen. My teeth chattered hard enough to hurt my jaw. Massha pulled her flimsy g
arments more snugly around her. So did the hundreds of shoppers in the hall. Some of them shot dirty looks at the elemental. Only Chumley and Eskina, clad in their own lush fur, were unaffected.
"Sorry, folks," Jack apologized, after taking a second breath. "It'll even out in a moment. Got to keep on top of things, or it'd be the end of The Mall as we know it!"
"Wait a moment," I exclaimed, as a thought struck me. "You say this place is on top of a live volcano? The steam rising above the mountain outside isn't an effect?"
"Nope! The Volcano, the clothing store, is named for it. You've seen the floor? My work," he announced modestly. "Living art, I call it. Free-flowing lava. Really pretty. You should go and take a look."
"Maybe later," I suggested, promising myself never to set foot in that store again. I remembered the orange-and-black floor, but I thought it was a piece of magik intended to impress the shoppers. A live volcano! These people were definitely crazy.
"So you'll be around for a while?" Jack asked, sticking up a finger to test the atmosphere. The temperature had dropped to a pleasant level. Elemental magik was some of the most powerful around.
"Not one minute more than we have to," Massha answered, cheerfully. "We want to help our friend, then I've got to get back to my job."
"They are staying," Eskina insisted. "They have a friend who is being thieved from. Only if they help me catch Rattila will they solve their friend's problem."
"We'll see about that," I glowered.
"Hey, hey, then, welcome to the neighborhood," Jack Frost boomed. "Gotta go." He offered each of us a hand again, then shot off down the corridor.
"You had to tell him everything?" I asked, moodily.
"Everyone knows everything about each other," Eskina acknowledged. "I have had to become acquainted with so many because the administration is so bad in not helping me. I will introduce you to all my good friends. They are all very nice, giving me food and places to sleep. Some are not so kind, like the proprietor of The Volcano and his cousins. That is why you see me sneaking in and out of there, but I must patrol where my nose leads me." She tapped that small feature. "Come with me! I will take you to die Barista."
myth-taken identity m-14 Page 7
