MA03 Myth Directions

by Robert Asprin

  “Wanting something and being able to take it are two different things,” Aahz grinned.

  “But I’m supposed to be helping them with my magik!”

  “Not this time, you aren’t,” my mentor corrected. “I’ve already told you that ...”

  “Is this a private chat, boys? Or can anybody join in?”

  We all turned to find Massha lumbering towards us. The rest of the Veygus delegation waited behind her, having apparently arrived while we were talking to Quigley.

  “Good God! What’s that?” Quigley gasped, gaping at Massha’s approaching bulk.

  “That’s Massha,” I volunteered casually. “You know, the Veygan’s magician?”

  “That’s Massha?” he echoed, swallowing hard.

  “If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Aahz suggested, “there are a few things we have to discuss with her before the meeting.”

  “Of course, certainly.”

  The ex-demon hunter beat a hasty retreat, apparently relieved at being able to avoid a face to face meeting with his rival.

  “The Council there tells me that was Quigley you were just talking to,” Massha announced, tracking his flight with her eyes.

  “Is that true?”

  “Umm ... yes,” I admitted.

  “You boys wouldn’t be trying to double-cross old Massha, would you?” Her tone was jovial, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “My dear lady!” Aahz gasped. “You wound me! Didn’t we promise to neutralize Quigley’s demon for you?”

  “You sure did.”

  “And it would be extremely difficult to engineer that without at least being on speaking terms with Quigley. Wouldn’t it?”

  “Well ... yes.”

  “So no sooner do we start working on the project than you accuse us of double-crossing you! We should leave right now and let you solve your own problems.”

  I had to suppress a smile. Aahz looking indignant is a comical sight at best. Massha, however, swallowed it hook, line and sinker.

  “Now, don’t be that way,” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean to get ya all out of joint. Besides, do you blame me for being a little suspicious after you up and made off with the Trophy?”

  Aahz sighed dramatically. “Didn’t we say not to be surprised at anything we did? Geez! I guess it’s what we should expect, trying to deal with someone who can’t comprehend the subtlety of our plans.”

  “You mean stealing the Trophy is part of your plan to neutralize the demon?” Massha asked, wide-eyed with awe.

  “Of course!” Aahz waved. “Or it was. You see, Quigley got the demon to help get the Trophy away from Veygus. Now, if Veygus doesn’t have the Trophy, he doesn’t need the demon, right?”

  “Sounds a little shaky to me,” the sorceress frowned.

  “You’re right,” Aahz acknowledged. “That’s why I was so glad when the k ... I mean, when Master Skeeve here came up with this new plan.”

  “I did?”

  Aahz’s arm closed around my shoulders in an iron grip which eliminated any thoughts of protest from my mind.

  “He’s so modest,” my mentor explained. “You’ve heard what a genius tactician he is? Well, he’s come up with a way to neutralize the demon ... and give Veygus a good chance at retrieving the Trophy.”

  “I’m dying to hear it,” Massha proclaimed eagerly.

  “Me, too,” I mumbled. Aahz’s grip tightened threateningly.

  “Then I guess we’re ready to get started,” he declared. “You’d better rejoin your delegation. Wouldn’t want it to look like we’re playing favorites. And remember ... agree with us no matter what we say. We’re on your side.”

  “Right!” she winked, and headed off.

  “Say, um, Aahz,” I managed at last.

  “Yea, kid?”

  “If you’re on Quigley’s side and on Massha’s side, who’s on my side?”

  “I am, of course.”

  I had been afraid he was going to say something like that. It was becoming increasingly clear that Aahz was going to come out of this in pretty good shape no matter how it ran. I didn’t have much time to ponder the point, though.

  Aahz was beckoning the groups forward to start the meeting.

  “I SUPPOSE you’re all wondering why I called you here,” my mentor began with a grin.

  I think he intended it as a joke. I’ve gotten so I recognize his “waiting for a laugh” grin. Unfortunately, he was trying it on the wrong crowd. Jahks aren’t generally noted for their sense of humor.

  “I assume it’s to talk about the Trophy,” a distinguished individual from the Ta-hoe group observed dryly. “Otherwise we’re wasting our time.”

  “Oh, it’s about the Trophy,” Aahz assured him hastily.

  “Which you stole from us!” a Veygan contributed venomously.

  “After you stole it from us!” the Ta-hoer speaker shot back.

  “Only after you cheated us out of it at the Big Game.”

  “That call was totally legal! The rules clearly state ...”

  “That rule hasn’t been enforced for three hundred years. There are four rulings on record which have since contradicted ...”

  “Gentlemen, please!” Aahz called, holding up his hands for order. “All that is water under the drawbridge, as well as being totally beside the point. Remember, neither of you currently have the Trophy. We do.”

  There was a moment of tense silence as both sides absorbed this observation. Finally, the Ta-hoer speaker stepped forward. “Very well,” he said firmly. “Name your price for its return. The Ta-hoe Council is prepared to offer ...”

  “Veygus will top any offer Ta-hoe makes.”

  “And Ta-hoe will double any offer that Veygus makes,” the speaker shot back.

  This was starting to sound pretty good to me. Maybe I’ve been hanging around with Aahz too long, but the potential financial benefits of our situation impressed me as being exceptionally good. The only foreseeable difficulty was Aahz’s insistence that he was going to keep his birthday present.

  “ ...If you try anything, our magician will ...”

  “Your magician! We fired her. If she tries anything, our magician will ...”

  The raging debate forced its way into my consciousness again. That last bit sounded like it could get very ugly very quickly. I snuck a nervous glance at Aahz, but as usual he was way ahead of me.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen!” he admonished, raising his hands once more.

  “Who are you calling a gentleman?”

  “And ladies,” my mentor amended, squinting at the source of the voice. “What da ya know. ERA strikes again.”

  “What’s an eerah?” the Ta-hoe spokesman frowned, echoing my thoughts exactly.

  “It seems,” Aahz continued, ignoring the question entirely, “that our motives have been misconstrued. We didn’t appropriate the Trophy to ransom it. Quite the contrary. It has been our intention all along to see that it goes to its rightful owners.”

  An ugly growl arose from the Veygans.

  “Excellent!” beamed the Ta-hoe spokesman. “If you won’t accept a reward, will you at least accompany us back to town as our guests? There’s sure to be celebrating and ...”

  “I said ‘the rightful owner.’” Aahz smiled, cutting him off.

  The spokesman paused, his smile melting to a dangerous scowl. “Are you saying we aren’t the rightful owners?” he snarled. “If you thought Veygus had a better claim, why did you steal it in the first place?”

  “Let me run it past you one more time,” my mentor sighed. “The Trophy’s going to its rightful owner. That lets Veygus out, too.”

  That took the spokesman aback. I didn’t blame him. Aahz’s logic had me a bit confused, too ... and I was on his side!

  “If I understand it correctly,” Aahz continue
d grandly, “the Trophy’s goes to the winning team—that wins the Big Game—as their award for being the year’s best team. Is that right?”

  “Of course,” the spokesman nodded.

  “Why do you assume the team that wins the Big Game is the best team?” Aahz asked innocently.

  “Because there are only two teams. So it follows logically that ...”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” my mentor interrupted. “There is another team.”

  “Another team?” the spokesman blinked.

  “That’s right. A team that neither of your teams has faced, much less beaten. Now, we maintain that until that team is defeated, neither Ta-hoe nor Veygus has the right to declare their team the year’s best!”

  My stomach did a flip-flop. I was getting a bad feeling about this. “That’s ridiculous!” called the Veygus spokesman. “We’ve never heard of another team. Whose team is this, anyway?”

  “Ours,” Aahz smiled. “And we’re challenging both your teams to a game, a three-way match, right here in thirty days—winner takes all.”

  Bad feeling confirmed. For a moment, I considered altering my disguise and sneaking out with one of the delegations. Then I realized that option was closed. Both groups had stepped back well out of ear-shot to discuss Aahz’s proposal. That put them far away, so that I couldn’t join them without being noticed. With nothing else to do, I turned on Aahz.

  “This is your plan?” I demanded. “Setting us up to play a game we know absolutely nothing about against not one but two teams, who’ve been playing it for five hundred years? That’s not a plan, that’s a disaster!”

  “I figure it’s our best chance to spring Tananda and keep the Trophy,” my mentor shrugged.

  “It’s a chance to get our heads beaten in,” I corrected. “There’s got to be an easier way.”

  “There was,” Aahz agreed. “Unfortunately, you eliminated it when you promised we wouldn’t do anything to endanger Quigley’s job.”

  I hate it when Aahz is right. I hate it almost as much as getting caught in my own stupid blunders. More often than not, those two phenomena occur simultaneously in my life.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this plan before?” I asked to hide my discomfort.

  “Would you have gone along with it if I had?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why.”

  “What happens if we refuse your challenge?” the Ta-hoe spokesman called.

  “Then we consider ourselves the winners by default,” Aahz replied.

  “Well, Veygus will be there,” came the decision from the other group.

  “And so will Ta-hoe,” was the spontaneous response.

  “If I might ask,” the Ta-hoe spokesman queried, “why did you pick a date thirty days from now?”

  “It’ll take time for you to lay out a triangular field,” my mentor shrugged. “And besides, I thought your merchants would require more than a week to prepare their souvenirs.” There were nods in both groups for that reasoning.

  “Then it’s agreed?” Aahz prompted.

  “Agreed!” roared Veygus.

  “Agreed!” echoed Ta-hoe.

  “Speaking of merchandizing,” the Ta-hoe spokesman commented, “what is the name of your team? We’ll need it before we can go into production of the souvenirs.”

  “We’re called The Demons,” Aahz said, winking at me. In a flash I saw what his plan really was. “Would you like to know why?”

  “Well ... I would assume it’s because you play like demons,” the Ta-hoe spokesman stammered.

  “Not ‘like’ demons!” my mentor grinned. “Shall we show them, partner?”

  “Why not,” I smiled, closing my eyes.

  In a moment, our disguises were gone, and for the first time the delegates had a look at what was opposing them.

  “As I was saying,” Aahz announced, showing all his teeth, “not ‘like’ demons.”

  It was a good gambit, and it should have worked. Any sane person would quake at the thought of taking on a team of demons. No sacrifice would be too great to avoid the confrontation. We had overlooked one minor detail, however. Jahks are not sane people.

  “Excellent,” the Ta-hoe spokesman exclaimed.

  “What?” Aahz blinked, his smile fading.

  “This should keep the odds even,” the spokesman continued. “That’s what we were discussing ... whether you could field a good enough team to make a fight of it. But now ... well, everyone will want to see this matchup.”

  “You ... aren’t afraid of playing against demons?” my mentor asked slowly.

  Now it was the spokesman’s turn to smile.

  “My dear fellow,” he chortled, “if you had ever seen our teams play, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

  With that, he turned and rejoined his delegation as the two groups prepared to withdraw from the meeting.

  “Didn’t you listen in on their conversations?” I hissed.

  “If you’ll recall,” Aahz growled back, “I was busy talking with you at the time.”

  “Then we’re stuck,” I moaned.

  “Maybe not,” he corrected. “Quigley! Could we have a word with you?”

  The ex-demon hunter lost no time in joining us.

  “I must say,” he chortled. “You boys did an excellent job of getting me out of a tight spot there. Now it’s a matter of pride for them to win the Trophy back on the playing field.”

  “Swell,” Aahz growled. “Now how about your part of the deal? Ta-hoe has its chance, so there’s no reason for you to keep Tananda.”

  “Mmm ... yes and no,” Quigley corrected. “It occurs to me that if I release her now, then you’ll have the Trophy and Tananda, and would therefore have no motive to return for the game. To fulfill your promise, to give Ta-hoe a chance for the Trophy, the game will have to take place. Then I’ll release Tananda.”

  “Thanks a lot,” my mentor spat.

  “Don’t mention it,” the ex-demon hunter waved as he went to rejoin his group.

  “Now what do we do?” I asked.

  “We form a team,” Aahz shrugged. “Hey, Griffin!”

  “What is it now?” the youth growled.

  “We have one more job for you,” my mentor smiled. “All you have to do is help us train our team. There are ... a few points of the game that aren’t very clear to us.”

  “No,” said Griffin firmly. “Now look, short stuff ...”

  “Wait a minute, Aahz,” I interrupted. “Griffin, this time we aren’t threatening you. I’m offering you a job at good wages to help us.”

  “What!?” Aahz shrieked.

  “Shut up, Aahz.”

  “You don’t understand,” Griffin interrupted in turn. “Neither threats nor money will change my mind. I helped you steal the Trophy from Veygus, but I won’t help you against my own team. I’d die before I’d do that.”

  “There are worse things than dying,” Aahz suggested ominously.

  “Let it drop, Aahz,” I said firmly. “Thanks anyway Griffin. You’ve been a big help when we needed you, so I won’t fault you for holding back now. Hurry up. The others are waiting.” We watched as he trotted off to join his delegation.

  “You know, kid,” Aahz sighed at last, “sometime we’re going to have to have a long talk about these lofty ideals of yours.”

  “Sure, Aahz,” I nodded. “In the meantime, what are we going to do about this game?”

  “What else can we do?” my mentor shrugged. “We put together a team.”

  “Just like that,” I winced. “And where are we going to find the players, much less someone who can tell us how the game is played?”

  “Where else?” Aahz grinned, setting the D- Hopper. “The Bazaar at Deva!”

  AT SEVERAL other points in this tale, I’ve referred to t
he Bazaar at Deva. You may be wondering about it. So do I ... and I’ve been there!

  Deva is the home dimension of the Deveels, acknowledged to be the best traders anywhere. You may find references to them in your folklore. Deals with Deveels are usually incredible and frequently disastrous. I’ve dealt with only two Deveels personally. One got me hung (not hung-over from drink—but hung up by the neck!) and the other sold me my dragon, Gleep. I like to think that makes me even, but Aahz insists I’m batting zero—whatever that means.

  Anyway, there is a year-round, rock the clock Bazaar in that dimension where the Deveels meet to trade with each other. Everything imaginable and most things that aren’t are available there. All you have to do is bargain with the Deveels. Fortunately, the Bazaar is large enough that there is much duplication, and sometimes you can play the dealers off against each other.

  I had been here twice before, both times with Aahz. This was however, the first time I had been here when it was raining.

  “It’s raining,” I pointed out, scowling at the overhanging clouds. They were a dark orange, which was quite picturesque, but did nothing toward making getting wet more pleasant.

  “I know it’s raining,” Aahz retorted tersely. “Com’on. Let’s step in here while I get my bearings.”

  ‘Here,’ in this case, was some sort of invisible bubble enveloping one stall which seemed to be doing an admirable job of keeping the rain out. I’ve used magik wards before to keep out unwelcome intruders, but it had never occurred to me to use it against the elements.

  “Buying or looking, gentlemen?” the proprietor asked, sidling up to us.

  I glanced at Aahz, but he was up on his tiptoes surveying the surroundings.

  “Um ... looking, I guess.”

  “Then stand in the rain!” came the snarling reply. “Force fields cost money, you know. This is a display, not a public service.”

  “What’s a force field?” I stalled.

  “Out!”

  “Com’on kid,” Aahz said. “I know where we are now.”

  “Where?” I asked suspiciously.

  “In the stall of the Bazaar’s rudest dealer,” my mentor explained, raising his voice. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t heard him with my own ears.”