Myth-Gotten Gains m-17

by Robert Lynn Asprin

  "Lord Highperin, his chief huntsman, three sergeants-at-arms, fifteen men-at-arms, a pack of hounds…"

  A loud bay confirmed at least part of her statement. I glanced at Tananda.

  "Where to?" she asked.

  "Anywhere but here," I said. I grabbed Asti and started to shove her back into my rucksack.

  "Just a moment!" she said, sounding horrified. "You're not putting me back in that wretched rag again, are you?"

  "You bet I am, sister," I said.

  "Over my bent stem, you are," Asti retorted.

  Out of her bowl, sour-smelling red liquid began to pour, then spray upward in an increasing fountain like a fire hose. I held her away from my face. The liquid was wine, a crummy vintage that I wouldn't have used for insecticide. The spray rose higher. In a moment it would rise higher than the trees. Highperin wouldn't need the dogs to trace us.

  "Turn it off!" I shouted. "What do you want?"

  "I thought you might see reason. After all, you want your reward, don't you?" The stream cut off between one drop and another. The ruby eyes regarded me with a pleased expression. "I just want a case that befits my status, Mr. Aahz. I am one of the most important members of the Golden Hoard. You can't just wrap me in rags and expect me to be happy about it."

  "A case?" I asked, dumbfounded.

  "You always possessed delusions of grandeur," Ersatz said. "You will not give in to her petty blackmail, will you?"

  "Oh, yes, he will," Asti said, confidently. "Well?"

  "Not a chance," I said, with my teeth gritted.

  Wine began to flow over my hand again.

  "All right, all right!" I shouted. "We'll get you a case."

  "A nice one," Asti said. "One with a decent silk lining, tooled leather, and my name written in jewels. Those don't have to be as nice as my own, of course," she added. "Gold clasps would be acceptable, and padded with the best cashmere. Dyed purple, I think. It sets off my patina so well."

  I started to growl, "Over my dead body," but Calypsa put her hand on my arm.

  "Asti is an ancient treasure, and we do need her help," she said. "The purse will surely reimburse you for any outlay you make. I would feel better if she was made the most comfortable."

  The cup beamed. "I like this girl. She knows how to treat an artifact!"

  Tananda and I looked at each other.

  "Deva," she said.

  If you're one of the non-dimension-hopping rubes who have never been to the Bazaar at Deva, picture the biggest shopping arena you know of.

  Now, double it.

  Now, double it again.

  Just keep on doubling it until you run out of numbers.

  The Bazaar is well known throughout the dimensions as the go-to place for almost kind of merchandise. If it can be bought, sold, traded, stolen and sold again, it's for sale in one of the tents, booths, open-air rings, tables and even cloths spread on the ground in its dirty, crowded, noisy, hot lanes. You can get a tattoo anywhere on your body, including the inside. You can, as I know to my everlasting regret, buy a live dragon here. (If you have any sense at all, you won't.)

  You can find restaurants serving food from countless lands, including one of the only Pervish restaurants I have ever found ex-dimension. Most other races don't want to serve Pervish food, because it tends to be ambulatory, and it has a pretty strong aroma — make that stench. No item or ingredient is so exotic that money won't bring it to your table, unless it's sentient. Even the locals aren't that sick.

  The local species, who run most of the establishments, are known as Deveels. In appearance they're similar to the beings of Klahdish nightmares, with dark red skin, little horns on either side of their foreheads, and lower limbs that end in hooves. To deal with a Deveel, you had better be a savvy trader or be willing to lose whatever you're carrying on you. There's no truth in the rumor that you can lose your soul to one of the merchants in the Bazaar, unless you were foolish enough to put it on the table in the first place. In other words, you need to understand what you have agreed to, and make certain that there are no handy loopholes in your verbal contract, or the shopkeeper will wriggle out of fulfilling his end of the bargain if he can find any way at all to do so.

  They are the slickest businesspeople in the universe, and they can sense the presence of money. Being cheated by a Deveel is a normal event in the Bazaar, but if you can keep your head, you can find goods of surprising quality among the acres and acres of dreck. Some of the finest craftspeople of all races have shops there. The chances were also pretty good that if any of the other treasures of the Golden Hoard were presently for sale, they might be kicking around here. I thought it was worth taking a look.

  The Bazaar was also the site of the former offices of M.Y.T.H., Inc., the operation that had been headed up by my old partner, Skeeve, with me as his advisor. The tent, which was, to quote another dimensional traveler, was substantially bigger on the inside than it was on the outside because of a common trick used in the Bazaar and elsewhere, of setting only the front door, and maybe the anteroom, of a building in a particular dimension, and carving the rest of the space out of a neighboring dimension by means of a spell. Our tent backed onto a dimension called limbo, which even the Deveels were loath to visit. The main race there was vampires, with werewolves and a few other children of the night thrown in for makeweight, or make-wight, if you like. It had explained why our tent had been priced so reasonably even though it was located on a main thoroughfare. Skeeve insisted that the Limboans were as afraid of us as we were of them, but the place gave me the creeps. Still, I used it as my pied-a-terre — you can't argue with the fact that it was already paid for. A few of the gang came and went as business brought them to Deva, but it wasn't like the old days.

  Even though most people would hesitate to tangle with a Pervect, especially a notable like myself, I felt very uncomfortable carrying three very valuable pieces of magikal hardware through the Bazaar. The pickpockets and thieves that roamed the lanes could smell gold through ten layers of bespelled safe-satchels, let alone buried in the middle of ancient sacks that we'd lifted from a nearby potato field in Klah.

  Ersatz we couldn't hide at all, except to cover his hilt with an old sack. Bumping along on Calypsa's narrow shoulder, he was getting a lot of attention from the shopkeepers we passed. I kept a hand on the D-hopper in my pocket. It was an ancient artifact, and there weren't many around. No way after all this time was I losing my ride.

  "I don't see why you have to have a special carrying case," I told Asti sourly. "That kid who had you on his shelf sure didn't have a fancy set up for you, especially not one with jewels and tooled leather."

  "I don't expect dancing girls and acolytes, Mr. Aahz," Asti said, smugly, now that she knew she was getting her way.

  "It's just Aahz," I said.

  "As you wish. I liked Imgam. In every way that counted, that simple setting was a shrine. Imgam gave me the very best he had. He set me on a plinth of wood he cut with his own hands. He polished me with the finest cloth in the house, a piece of silk his mother got as a wedding present. It was cheap by comparison with most of the polishing cloths I've had over the years, but there was none better to be had. He handled me with love and the deepest respect." She sighed. "Outside of the Temple of Shamus, I have never had such worship. I really enjoyed it. You had better have removed me from his care for a very important reason indeed, and not just to restore powers to a Pervert."

  Calypsa opened her mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to shush her. "Not here," I said. "We'll get you your case, then go to someplace where it's less likely we'll Debugged."

  "My goodness, what an interesting place," Kelsa said, from Tananda's shoulder bag. She had insisted that we not use the silencing cloth, and she had babbled nonstop since we bamfed in. "Did that Deveel really just take that Imper for the last silver piece he had? And all because he was palming the bean that should have been under at least one of those shells?"

  Her shrill voice was plenty audible enough
so that the Imp in question heard it. He glared at the Deveel, who glared in our direction. The Imp demanded a refund. The Deveel, no surprise, refused. That started an argument with the huckster that drew an audience from the surrounding booths. I put a hand into Calypsa's back and hustled her out of the way of the brawl that was going to start in, oh, ten seconds.

  Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

  "You cheated me, you scarlet shyster! Give me back my money, or I'll blow your head off!"

  Oh, well, a little ahead of schedule.

  The Deveel behind the leatherwork counter listened as Calypsa recited the details of the case Asti wanted. We all thought it would be better if none of the Golden Hoard said anything. The last thing I needed was a rumor going around that they were in the dimension. It would start a gold rush the likes of which hadn't been seen in a century.

  "…And cashmere lining. Purple," Calypsa said. "Good enough to last for a hundred years."

  "Uh-huh," said Stankel, noting down the information on a scrap of leftover parchment. "Not the usual stuff I do for you, pretty girl," he said, patting Tanda on the bottom. She smiled at him with such concentrated sweetness that he moved his hand back in alarm. I grinned.

  "Just give me the estimate," I said.

  "Well, it's custom work," he began, ticking off the items on the list. "Rush job, you said. Special dyes. It'll have to be clegborn beetle wing dye for the lining — it's the best. Doesn't run, won't fade. Tooling on the leather representing water flowing up out of a fountain, waves crashing on the shore, that kind of thing. If you don't mind magikal carving, I can do anything you want. Saves time. The name on the top is Asti, you said?"

  He glanced up at me with a gleam in his eye. I was afraid that he'd catch on. Deveels didn't get to be the most feared traders in a hundred dimensions by missing implications, and they never forgot any detail that might be worth a copper to them.

  "Yeah." I leaned close. "I wouldn't want it to get around. We're running an…operation. You understand. Set a fraud to catch a fraud, you know. Not like we've got the real Asti."

  "I see," Stankel said, licking the end of his pencil and scrawling a final note. "No, I get it. Where would you get a Hoard treasure, Aahz?" He laughed.

  I resented his implication, but I didn't want to start a fight. Not yet, anyhow.

  "How much?" I asked.

  "Oh, well, seeing as how you're an old friend, and Tanda here's a regular customer…half a gold piece."

  "How much?" I asked.

  "Half a gold piece. And I'm taking bread out of my children's mouths to give you a price that low."

  "Your children are in their sixties," I pointed out. "If you're still feeding them, you're as crummy a parent as you are a businessman. This might be good work, but I could get Steger to whip out the same for a tenth."

  "A tenth! You're out of your mind!"

  I smiled. Now things were beginning to move. "Not so crazy as you are."

  "How could you even think of offering me such a pathetic sum for my quality leather goods?" He appealed to passersby. "This stinking Pervert thinks he can ask the craftsman Stankel for custom work for a rotten tenth of a gold piece! Four tenths, or I'll throw you out of this booth on your scaly bottom!"

  "That's Pervect," I bellowed, "and I'd like to see you try it! Two tenths!"

  It was past lunch time, so the crowd that gathered to listen to us haggle wasn't as large as it might be, which suited me just fine. I didn't want anyone reading over Stankel's shoulder. Tananda was used to the custom of bargaining in the Bazaar, but Calypsa was beginning to shy backwards, away from our voices. I couldn't take the time out to let her know this was normal. Suddenly, I saw the gleam of Ersatz's eyes peeking out of the wrapping over her shoulder. Gradually, the Walt stopped trembling. After a while, she looked as if she was actually enjoying the show. When we finally finished haggling and agreed on a quarter gold piece, she joined in the applause. I thought it had been a pretty good show, myself.

  After letting Stankel take measurements of Asti, we left him to work. He wasn't too impressed with the pathetically banged-up cup for which we were buying a fancy box, but had bought the story we were using it to run some kind of elaborate scam. He knew, as any Deveel would from birth, that it was solid gold, but I had chosen Stankel on purpose because he was almost as magik-blind as I was at the moment. He couldn't feel the mystical wallop she and the other two packed.

  "Give me a couple of hours," Stankel said. "I should be able to whip something together by then."

  Chapter 8

  I SWAGGERED AS I led the others out of the booth, leading them deftly through a party of drunken Vikings negotiating for hide-covered shields. We shoved past an Imp buying yard goods in colors nature never intended, and swung wide around a party of gaping Kobolds taking snapshots of an eight-armed juggler, whose partner was picking their pockets. As we went past a cross street Calypsa went weak at the knees.

  "What is that stink?" she gasped, staggering. I caught a strong, malodorous whiff that made me smile.

  "Pervish cooking," I said. "The restaurant's not far away."

  "No," Tananda said firmly. "Hasn't she been through enough in the last few days? There's no reason to subject her to your kind of food."

  I lowered my eyebrows. It had been a while since I had tasted home cooking. Tananda gave me one of those looks that meant business, as in we were engaged in business, and pleasure would have to wait I thought about it. We could split up, but that only meant double the chances that some of the free-lance brigands that shopped the Bazaar could get a crack at the goods we were carrying. I sighed.

  Instead, I headed for the Yellow Crescent Inn, where my buddy Gus the Gargoyle pulled strawberry milkshakes for those discerning customers who could use a little privacy when they ate lunch The Yellow Crescent's food was bland, because the diners liked it that way. I could eat it, but I considered it no more than fodder.

  To my relief, the other patrons who were in the Inn were all strangers. We didn't have any trouble taking possession of a corner booth, where both Tanda and I could have our backs to the wall. Gus waved to us with a broad stone hand, then came around the counter to greet us.

  "Hey, Aahz, long time no see!" he said, extending bone-crushing handgrips with us. "You been away? Hey, Tananda. You look lovely, as usual."

  "Hi, Gus," she said, warmly.

  "The usual?"

  She nodded. I grunted. "Yeah."

  Gus turned to Calypsa.

  "How about you, honey? You're a Walt, ain't you? Don't get a lot of your kind here on Deva. What'll it be? Milkshake on the house for a friend of my pal here."

  Calypsa looked confused, so I shook my head.

  "Let the kid here see the menu, Gus, and make sure no one interrupts us, okay? We've got a little business to discuss." "No problem," Gus said. He left a greasy parchment by Calypsa and went back to the counter.

  "Okay, Asti," I said, plunking the cup on the table. In her sorry condition no one in the room paid much attention to her. The toys that came with the kids' meals looked more impressive than she did. "Let's talk. There's a few things you gotta understand."

  "Oh, I understand," Asti said blithely. "You and this green floozy…"

  "Trollop, please," Tananda said, with some asperity.

  "As you please…you are a pair of hired hands. Have I got that wrong? If not, then I suggest you listen to this lass. She's your employer, isn't she? She has persuaded you to join her on a mission that tugs at the heartstrings' to save her beloved grandfather. I look forward to hearing the whole tale later, naturally. I love a good tearjerker. And she wants to treat me with the honor that I must inform you I am due. I suggest you listen to her. Obviously, she knows her history. I have anointed kings and queens, blessed babies, cured poison, elicited truth, sealed oaths, toasted dynastic marriages…I'm the stuff of legends, baby, and don't you forget it!"

  "So, what if we do find you a different container. Is that going to make you cooperate? No more floods?"
>
  "Possibly," Asti said, the line on her bowl curving upward.

  I heard some hubbub coming from Calypsa's side of the table. Muffled exclamations were coming from the disguised sword. Alarmed, the girl hoisted him off her back and put him on the table, blade half out of his scabbard.

  "Friend Aahz," Ersatz said. I could see the one baleful eye looking out of the torn leather at me. "At least I counted you friend! Until now."

  "What's the matter with you?" I asked.

  The eye blazed. "You have promised good gold for a polished and bejeweled husk to carry this wretched, leaky vessel in state — and you have not extended the same to me!"

  "What?" I demanded.

  "Aye, and I had come to believe that you had respect for me. You, who recognized my quality. You, who bought me out of tchochkedom and who are bearing me forward into an honorable destiny. You, who know my history, back as far as the mysterious fires that gave me birth. You who know the battles I have fought. YOU — would let me go on in this worn and limp scabbard while Asti has a new case to contain her pathetically beaten form?"

  "Oh, yes," Asti piped up. "And I want you to find a goldsmith to tap me out again. No sense in continuing to look like the last target on the fence. Oh, and you might see if he can find me a replacement for the oval chalcedony on my foot. I noticed a chip out of it, just at the base…"

  I glanced from her back to Ersatz. "No."

  "No, what?" Asti asked.

  "No to a polish job, and no to a brand new scabbard. And no," I added, as Kelsa started protesting from Tananda's substantial purse, "to a monogrammed miniature bowling bag to contain the world's most talkative crystal ball!"

  They all burst out talking at once.

  "Quiet," I shouted.

  They quieted. I leaned toward Asti, making sure she got a good look at my bared teeth.

  "First of all, dixie-cup, I may have taken on a job and need your cooperation to complete it, but you never call my friend Tananda names again. Do you understand? You may be an immortal treasure and have a hundred songs sung about your exploits, but you're still a piece of metal. I can flatten you and use you for a bookmark in my copy of the Perva Sutra. Got that? Second, just because we are working for Calypsa, the arrangement is temporary. When it's over, I'll be a private citizen again, so don't treat me like the help. When she's done with you, you'll be out of immunity cards. Get me?"