“Get off the float!”
This last was shouted at us from someone in the crowd. “I beg your pardon,” I shouted back.
“The float! Get off of it!”
“C’mon, Handsome,” Tananda hissed, hooking my elbow in hers.
Together we leaped to the ground. As it turned out we were barely in time. With a bloodthirsty howl, the crowd surged forward and tossed their torches onto the contraption we had so recently abandoned. In moments it was a mass of flames the heat of which warmed the already overheated crowd. They danced and sang, joyfully oblivious to the destruction of the contraption.
Edging away from the scene, I realized with horror that it was being duplicated throughout the park. Wherever I looked there were bonfires set on contraptions and jubilant crowds.
“I think we arrived at a bad time,” I observed.
“What makes you say that?” Tananda asked.
“Little things,” I explained, “like the fact they’re in the middle of torching the town.”
“I don’t think so,” my companion shrugged. “When you torch a town you don’t usually start with the parks.”
“Okay, then you tell me just what they’re doing.”
“As far as I can tell, they’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“Some kind of victory. As near as I can tell, everyone’s shouting—we won! We won!”
I surveyed the blazes again. “I wonder what they’d do if they lost?”
Just then a harried looking individual strode up to us. His no-nonsense business-like manner was an island of sanity in a sea of madness. I didn’t like it. Not that I have anything against sanity, mind you. It’s just that up ‘til now we have been pretty much ignored. I feared that was about to change.
“Here’s your pay,” he said brusquely, handing us each a pouch. “Turn in your costume at the Trophy Building.” With that he was gone, leaving us open mouthed and holding the bags.
“What was that all about?” I managed to say.
“Beats me,” Tananda admitted. “They lost me when they called that contraption a float.”
“Then I’m right! It is a contraption,” I exclaimed with delight. “I knew they had to be wrong; a float is airtight and won’t sink in water.”
“I thought it was made with ice cream and ginger-ale?” Tananda frowned.
“With what and what?” I blinked.
“Great costumes—really great!” someone shouted to us as they staggered by.
“Time to do something about our disguises,” Tananda murmured as she waved to the drunk.
“Right,” I nodded, glad we could agree on something.
The disguises should have been easy after my recent experience in other dimensions. I mean the Jahks were humanoid and I had lots of ready models to work from. Unfortunately I encountered problems.
The first was pride. Despite the teeming masses around us, I couldn’t settle on two individuals whose appearance I wanted to duplicate. I never considered myself particularly vain; I’ve never considered myself as being in top physical condition—of course, that was before I arrived in Jahk.
Every being I could see was extremely off-weight—either over or under. If a specific individual wasn’t ribs-protruding thin to the point of looking brittle, he was laboring along under vast folds of fat which bunched and bulged at waist, chin and all four cheeks. Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to alter Tananda or myself to look like these wretched specimens.
My second problem was that I couldn’t concentrate, anyway. Disguise spells, like any other magik, require a certain amount of concentration. In the past I’ve been able to cast spells in the heat of battle or embarrassment. In our current situation I couldn’t seem to get my mind focused.
You see there was this song—well, I think it was a song. Anyway the crowd acted like it was singing a rhythmic chant; the chant was incredibly catchy. Even in the short time we’d been there I’d almost mastered the lyrics—which is a tribute to the infectious nature of the song rather than any indication of my ability to learn lyrics. The point is that every time I tried concentrating on our disguises, I found myself singing along with the chant instead. Terrific!
“Any time you’re ready, Handsome.”
“What’s that, Tananda?”
“The disguises,” she prompted, glancing about nervously. “Spells will work better when you aren’t humming.”
“I—er, um—I can’t seem to find two good models,” I alibied lamely.
“Are you having trouble counting up to two all of a sudden?” she scowled. “By my count you’ve got a whole park full of models.”
“But none I want to look like—want us to look like,” I amended quickly.
“Check me on this,” Tananda said, pursing her lips. “Two days ago you disguised us as a pair of slimy slugs, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And before that as eight-legged dogs?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And you never complained about how you looked in your disguise then, right?”
“That was different,” I protested.
“How?” she challenged.
“Those were—well, things! These are humanoids and I know what humanoids should look like.”
“What they should look like isn’t important,” my guide argued. “What matters is what they do look like. We’ve got to blend with the crowd—and the sooner the better.”
“But—” I began.
“—Because if we don’t,” she continued sternly, “we’re going to run into someone who’s both sober and un-preoccupied—which will give us the choice between being guest-of-honor at the next bonfire they light or skipping this dimension before you’ve had anything to eat.”
“I’ll try again,” I sighed, scanning the crowd once more.
In a desperate effort to comply with Tananda’s order, I studied the first two individuals my eyes fell on, then concentrated on duplicating their appearance without really considering how they looked.
“Not bad,” Tananda commented dryly, surveying her new body. “Of course, I always thought I looked better as a woman.”
“You want a disguise, you get a disguise,” I grumbled.
“Hey, Handsome,” my once-curvaceous comrade breathed, laying a soft, but hairy, hand on my arm. “Relax, we’re on the same side. Remember?”
My anger melted away at her touch—as always. Maybe someday I’ll develop an immunity to Tananda’s charms. Until then I’ll just enjoy them. “Sorry, Tananda,” I apologized. “Didn’t mean to snap at you—log it off to hunger.”
“That’s right,” she exclaimed, clicking her fingers, “we’re supposed to be finding you some food. It completely slipped my mind again what with this racket going on. C’mon, let’s see what the blue plate special is today.”
Finding a place to eat turned out to be more of a task than either of us anticipated. Most of the restaurants we came across were either closed or only serving drinks. I half-expected Tananda to suggest that we drink our meal, but mercifully that possibility wasn’t mentioned.
We finally located a little sidewalk cafe down a narrow street and elbowed our way to a small table, ignoring the glares of our fellow diners. Service was slow, but my companion sped things up a bit by emptying the contents of one of our pouches onto the tabletop thus attracting the waiter’s attention. In short order we were presented with two bowls of steaming whatever. I didn’t even try to identify the various lumps and crunchies. It smelled good and tasted better and after several days of enforced fasting, that was all that mattered to me. I glutted myself and was well into my second bowl by the time Tananda finished her first. Pushing the empty dish away she began to study the crowd on the street with growing interest.
“Have you figured out yet what’s going on?” she a
sked.
“MMurppg!?” I replied through a mouthful of food.
“Hmmm?” she frowned.
“I can’t tell for sure,” I said, swallowing hard. “Everybody’s happy because they won something, but darned if I can hear what they won.”
“Well,” Tananda shrugged. “I warned you they were weird.”
Just then the clamor in the streets soared to new heights, drowning out any efforts at individual conversation. Craning our necks in an effort to locate the source of the disturbance, we beheld a strange phenomenon. A wall-to-wall mob of people was marching down the street, chanting in unison and sweeping along, or trampling, any smaller groups it encountered. Rather than expressing anger or resentment at this intrusion, the people around us were jumping up and down and cheering, hugging each other with tears of pure joy in their eyes. The focus of everyone’s attention seemed to be sitting on a litter borne aloft by the stalwarts at the head of the crowds. I was fortunate enough to get a look at it as it passed by—Fortunate in that I could see it without having to move. The crowds were such that I couldn’t move if I’d wanted to, so it was just as well that it passed close by.
To say they carried a statue would be insufficient. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen in my life and that included everything I’d just seen on this trip with Tananda. It was small, roughly twice the size of my head and depicted a large, four-legged toad holding a huge eyeball in its mouth. Along its back, instead of warts, were the torsos, heads and arms of tiny Jahks intertwined in truly grotesque eroticism. These figures were covered with the warty protrusions one would expect to have found on the toad itself. As a crowning touch, the entire thing had a mottled gold finish which gave the illusion of splotches crawling back and forth on the surface.
I was totally repulsed by the statue, but it was obvious the crowd around me did not share these feelings. They swept forward in a single wave, joining the mob and adding their voices to the chant which could still be heard long after the procession had vanished from sight. Finally we were left in relative quiet on a street deserted save for a few random bodies of those not swift enough to either join or evade the mob.
“Well,” I said casually, clearing my throat. “I guess we know what they won, now. Right?”
There was no immediate response. I shot a sharp glance at my companion and found her staring down the street after the procession.
“Tananda,” I repeated, slightly concerned.
“That’s it,” she said with sudden, impish glee.
“That’s what?” I blinked.
“Aahz’s birthday present,” she proclaimed.
I peered down the street, wondering what she was looking at. “What is?” I asked.
“That statue,” she said firmly.
“That statue?” I cried, unable to hide my horror.
“Of course,” she nodded, “it’s perfect. Aahz will have never seen one, much less owned one.”
“How do you figure that?” I pressed.
“It’s obviously one-of-a-kind,” she explained. “I mean, who could make something like that twice?”
She had me there, but I wasn’t about to give up the fight. “There’s just one little problem. I’m no expert on psychology, but if that pack we just saw is any decent sample, I don’t think the folks around here are going to be willing to sell us their pretty statue.”
“Of course not, silly,” she laughed, turning to her food again. “That’s what makes it priceless. I never planned to buy Aahz’s present.”
“But if it isn’t for sale, how do we get it?” I frowned, fearing the answer.
Tananda choked suddenly on her food. It took me a moment to realize she was laughing. “Oh, Skeeve,” she gasped at last, “you’re such a kidder.”
“I am?” I blinked.
“Sure,” she insisted, looking deep into my eyes. “Why do you think it was so important for you to come along on this trip? I mean, you’ve always said you wanted to be a thief.”
IT WAS roughly twelve hours later, the start of a new day. We were still in Jahk. I was still protesting. At the very least, I was sure this latest madcap project was not in line with Aahz’s instructions to stay out of trouble.
Tananda, on the other hand, insisted that it would not be any trouble—or it might not be any trouble. We wouldn’t know for sure until we saw what kind of security the locals had on the statue. In the meantime, why assume the worst?
I took her advice. I assumed the best. I assumed the security would be impenetrable and that we’d give the whole idea up as a lost cause.
So it was, with different but equally high hopes, we set out in search of the statue.
The town was deathly still in the early morning light. Apparently everyone was sleeping off the prior night’s festivities—which seemed a reasonable pastime all things considered.
We did manage to find one open restaurant, however. The owner was wearily shoveling out the rubble left by the celebrating crowds, and grudgingly agreed to serve us breakfast.
I had insisted on this before setting out. I mean, worried or not, it takes more than one solid meal to counterbalance the effects of a three-day stretch without food.
“So,” I declared once we were settled at the table. “How do we go about locating the statue?”
“Easy,” Tananda winked. “I’ll ask our host a few subtle questions when he serves our food.”
As if summoned by her words, the owner appeared with two steaming plates of food, which he plopped on the table in front of us with an unceremonious ‘clunk.’
“Thanks,” I nodded, and was answered with an unenthusiastic grunt. “Say, could we ask you a couple questions?” Tananda purred.
“Such as?” the man responded listlessly.
“Such as where do they keep the statue?” she asked bluntly.
I choked on my food. Tananda’s idea of interrogation is about as subtle as a flogging; I keep forgetting she’s a long standing drinking partner of Aahz’s,
“The statue?” our host frowned.
“The one that was being carried up and down the streets yesterday,” Tananda clarified easily.
“Oh! You mean the Trophy,” the man laughed. “Statue. Hey that’s a good one. You two must be new in town.”
“You might say that,” I confirmed dryly. I had never been that fond of being laughed at—particularly early in the morning.
“Statue, Trophy, what’s the difference,” Tananda shrugged. “Where is it kept?”
“It’s on public display in the Trophy Building, of course,” the owner informed us. “If you want to see it, you’d best get started early. After five years, everyone in the city’s going to be showing up for a look-see.”
“How far is it to ...” Tananda began, but I interrupted her.
“You have a whole building for trophies?” I asked with forced casualness. “How many trophies are there?”
“Just the one,” our host announced. “We put up a building especially for it. You two must really be new not to know that.”
“Just got in yesterday,” I confirmed. “Just to show you how new we are, we don’t even know what the trophy’s for.”
“For?” the man gaped. “Why, it’s for winning the Big Game, of course.”
“What Big Game?”
The question slipped out before I thought. It burst upon the conversation like a bombshell, and our host actually gave ground a step in astonishment. Tananda nudged my foot warningly under the table, but I had already realized I had made a major blunder.
“I can see we have a lot to learn about your city, friend,” I acknowledged smoothly. “If you have the time, we’d appreciate your joining us in a glass of wine. I’d like to hear more about this ‘Big Game.’”
“Say, that’s nice of you,” our host declared, brightening noticeably. “Wait right here. I’ll fe
tch the wine.”
“What was that all about?” Tananda hissed as soon as he had moved out of earshot.
“I’m after some information,” I retorted. “Specifically, about the Trophy.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “The question is ‘why?’”
“As a thief,” I explained loftily, “I feel I should know as much as possible about what I’m trying to steal.”
“Whoever told you that?” Tananda frowned. “All you want to know about a target item is how big it is, how heavy it is, and what it will sell for. Then you study the security protecting it. Learning a lot about the item itself is a handicap, not an advantage.”
“How do you figure that?” I asked, my curiosity aroused in spite of myself.
My companion rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Because it’ll make you feel guilty,” she explained. “When you find out how emotionally attached the current owner is to the item, or that he’ll be bankrupt without it, or that he’ll be killed if it’s stolen, then you’ll be reluctant to take it. When you actually make your move, guilt can make you hesitate, and hesitant thieves either end up in jail or dead.”
I was going to pursue the subject further, but our host chose that moment to rejoin us. Balancing a bottle and three glasses in his hands, he hooked an extra chair over to our table with his foot.
“Here we go,” he announced, depositing his load in front of us. “The best in the house—or the best that’s left after the celebrations. You know how that is. No matter how much you stock in advance, it’s never enough.”
“No we don’t know,” I corrected. “I was hoping you could tell us.”
“That’s right,” he nodded, filling the glasses. “You know I still can’t believe how little you know about politics.”
“Politics?” I blinked. “What does the Big Game have to do with politics?”
“It has everything to do with politics,” our host proclaimed mightily. “That’s the point. Don’t you see?”
“No,” I admitted bluntly.
The man sighed.
“Look,” he said, “this land has two potential capitals. One is Veygus, and this one, as you know, is Ta-hoe.”
MA03 Myth Directions Page 3
