Myth-Gotten Gains m-17

by Robert Lynn Asprin

  "I…" Froome looked at each of us, enlightenment dawning. "It was? Why, I DID have an adventure of my own, didn't I?"

  "You certainly did," Tananda said, giving him one of her killer smiles as she sidled up to him. "And you can tell your listeners that you went up against the mighty Aahz, one of the toughest and smartest guys ever to come out of Perv, and that you beat him two times out of three."

  "Hey, wait a minute!" I said. "Who's telling this, anyway?"

  "Why, Froome will be," Tananda said, giving me a wink. She ran her fingers up the sleeve of his robe. "Won't you?"

  He seemed to be afflicted with a terrible case of dry-mouth. "Why, I…how can I resist it? Yes, it'll make wonderful telling! I'll be the hit of the festival. What…what's your name, beautiful green lady?"

  "Tananda," the Trollop said. "Make sure you spell it right."

  The Pikinise was already mining through his capacious satchel for a quill and a notebook. "And just what was it that you did to make me stop in my tracks, Miss Calypsa?" he asked.

  "The Dance of Fascination," she said.

  "It was…it was fantastic," he said, with an admiring glance. "Good luck in freeing your grandfather."

  "Thank you," she said, modestly. "You are very kind to let me take Payge."

  "You're welcome," he said. "All I ask in return is that you let me know how it all comes out. And then, look out, Morigrim Festival of Champion Storytellers. Here I come!"

  He blinked out of sight.

  BAMF!

  Chapter 17

  "WELL DONE," ASTI said, grudgingly. "That was almost brilliant."

  I swaggered along the main street of Tomburg, looking for a handy alley that we could slip into, to avoid jumping dimensions in front of the crowd. Froome might have been into public displays of magik, but I wasn't.

  "It was pretty clever, now that I think about it," I said.

  "On a scale of stupid to stellar, I'd give you a six."

  I bared my teeth.

  "Give it a rest, sister! Who else could have helped put together five of you Hoard in a matter of twenty days?"

  "Twenty-one," the Book under my arm suddenly spoke up.

  "Well, another delegate heard from," I said. I turned the book over so I could see the cover. Jewels and jade formed the picture of a grand landscape framing the image of a big, cushy chair with a reading lamp shining over it. I turned it one more time, to look at the spine. Where other books had a colophon at the top, Payge had a little face, with sapphire eyes and a wry mouth shaped like a dingbat. "Why didn't you say something to Froome before he left?"

  "I hate goodbyes," Payge said. "I prefer happy endings."

  "Who says this isn't going to have a happy ending?"

  "Payge has never liked confrontations of any kind," Ersatz said. "It is most annoying. He will not even defend himself in an argument."

  "Froome does not need me," Payge said. "I will not be able to teach him more magik, alas, but he will be the greatest storyteller of this age. I have confirmation in my own future annals. See page 2,398, and also pages 3,567 to 3,582, inclusive. I am sorry I will not be with him to witness his success, but I shall know of it just the same."

  Kelsa, who looked like the Reader's Digest myopia edition in her diamante glasses, went hazy for a moment. "Oh, yes, dear. Very successful. Take a look!"

  I flipped the book over and thumbed through it until I came to the first reference. Sure enough, an illustration of Froome's cheerful face, somewhat grayer than I had just seen him. He sat on a cushion in the middle of a sea of admirers. The image topped an article entitled "Word Magik." Below was a fairly comprehensive biography. I caught sight of my name in the middle of the text. I paged ahead to the second section, which was a collection of what would one day be Froome's most famous stories.

  "Not a bad life," I commented.

  "If it comes true," the Book said. "There is the remote possibility it will not come to pass, but I would say his chances of success are over 98%. See my section on Statistics, chapter 2, pages 6,104 to 6,106."

  The logo of Payge's face appeared at the bottom of every page. I addressed the one on page 3,570.

  "You have all of history written there?"

  "Oh, yes, I keep the records of every civilization at hand since I was first bound, even the ones that no longer exist."

  "So, you're annal-retentive, huh?" I asked. Everyone looked at me blankly except Tananda. "Forget it. Do you have anything about Calypsa here rescuing her grandfather?"

  "I have an infinite number of possible outcomes of that quest," Payge said. "See page 4,000 for the branching chart, a fold-out supplement. Too many variables still remain for me to have a definitive opinion in print."

  "Your pages change all the time?"

  "Naturally."

  "You know what we're trying to do?"

  "Indeed, I do. I was following Calypsa's account as she narrated it to Froome. I must say, she does not deviate by so much as a comma, from telling to telling. I could scarcely have done better myself."

  "Thank you," Calypsa said.

  "You are welcome. That is not to say, it becomes tedious on hearing it retold time and again," Payge continued. "In my chapter on Compelling Narratives, I suggest varying the pace and perhaps the details of your account once in a while — not sacrificing accuracy, mind you, but omitting certain facts and stressing others depending upon one's audience. In Froome's case, you were fortunate, since he wants ALL details. That made him a most apt pupil. I can't hope to find one so promising this century. Unless," he eyed Calypsa, "you have a good ear, you are loquacious, and you're certainly trainable. Are you interested in applying yourself to an advanced degree in literature?"

  "Back off, book. She is my protege," Ersatz said.

  "Ah." Payge paused. "Yes, it is so written, in the Current Events section between pages 300-600. Alas. I did not expect to succeed, but there are still branches left in the tree of events. I need to study. I need peace and quiet!"

  "Look, are you going to cooperate with us, or not?" I said. "You've wasted almost five days of our time. If we don't get out there and find the Purse and the Ring in the next few days, Calypsa's granddad is history."

  "I am so sorry," the Book said. "I am simply suffering from information overload. Sometimes I just can't keep up with it. I promise, I will cooperate. Very well, I am at your service. I confess myself terrified. I know too well what Perverts are capable of doing. My pages are full of accounts containing page-curling details."

  I snorted. "You shouldn't believe everything you read, chum," I said. "I've never tortured a book that didn't deserve it."

  "If I have gotten my facts wrong, I wish to correct them. We are going up against Barrik, who has imprisoned Calypso against his will? That has not changed?"

  "It hasn't," Calypsa said.

  "What is the plan? I haven't found one among the information I have been accumulating about you three and my old colleagues."

  "There is no plan," I said, firmly. "We're gathering you all together. We take you to Barrik. He frees Calypso. End of story."

  "But…you are gathering the finest force the universe has ever known, to be bartered as if we were a set of the Encyclopedia Gnomica?"

  "Not my deal, Bub. I'm just doing what the little lady here wants."

  The sapphire eyes slewed wildly to Calypsa and back to me.

  "But advise her differently! Are you prepared for the consequences of what will occur if we are put into the hands of a tyrant?"

  "Oh, he'll be out of there like a shot once the deal is done," Asti said. "He won't stay around to see the results of his action. The girl is paying him, Payge. Actually, it's Ersatz's fault. What was the debt you incurred?"

  "One hundred to set me free from the merchant who held me," Ersatz recited. "Then there is reimbursement for the outlay for the cases…"

  I was tired of hearing that litany.

  "What's wrong with a straightforward transaction?" I demanded. "You wanted a fancy slipcover
to work with us. You got it. I'm waiting for my payoff." I turned to the book.

  "Kelsa said you know all the spells in the universe."

  "If it has been written, then I know it," the book said, without a trace of modesty. "At the moment you are my master, since you extracted me from the library. What spell is it you wish to know?"

  I hated saying it out loud again, but this was one of the two treasures that Kelsa had promised could help. "I lost my powers. I want them back. What's the spell to restore them?"

  "Not so fast, not so fast!" The Book rustled his pages. "That's not as simple as it sounds! I will need to know all there is to know about the circumstances regarding the loss of your powers. Then I can search through my indices to find the appropriate incantation, and lists of the ingredients for potions and so on that will effect the cure. You can tell me all as we travel, for I see within my annals that Kelsa is about to give us direction to find our next colleague."

  "Why, you almost sound prescient, dear!" the Crystal Ball exclaimed. "You're right, of course. I keep forgetting that the depths of your scholarship reach into the future as well as the past. It's not as good as actually being a seer, of course, but you make such educated-sounding guesses…"

  "Don't you have the whole story somewhere in you?" I asked, interrupting Kelsa's inevitable flow. Payge's dingbat turned upside down into the semblance of a frown.

  "I have a brief retelling, but I need every detail that you can recall, scents, lighting, impressions, all in your own words, of course."

  "Go ahead, Aahz," Tananda said, encouragingly. "What's the harm in telling it one more time? This could be the last."

  I disliked going over the circumstances that had lost me my powers, but it sounded like I had no choice. Giving Tanda a quelling glance, I took a deep breath, and began.

  "Up until that day I'd always liked Garkin. He had the same kind of sense of humor I had…"

  Chapter 18

  "ALMS, MISTER, ALMS!" Another one of the skinny, ruddy, toadlike people grabbed for my ankle. He was wearing only a loincloth and a headcloth. His bulgy eyes rolled up at me appealingly. I growled.

  "Just kick him off," Kelsa advised. "They expect it."

  I had already done so.

  "I don't need you to tell me that." I looked around me. "What a dump."

  The city of Sri Port, largest population center in the dimension of Toa, stretched out in all directions except up. Most of the mud-and-straw buildings, once painted in bright colors and now faded by the sun, were less than three stories, and most of them were in conditions so wretched that no one would want to live in them unless they had absolutely no choice. From the look of the locals, they had no choice. I couldn't estimate the population, but I had to guess it was in the millions or tens of millions of hairless, froglike individuals, who shared their homes with skinny ruminants that chewed on the weeds that grew in the mud. Sri Port looked like the summer home of at least two of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The sun beat down through a haze of humidity thick enough to swim in. I glanced back at Calypsa, who was picking her way daintily through the piles of garbage, dung and broken bricks that obstructed the narrow path between buildings. Behind her, Tananda kept an eye on anyone who might be following us. She was fondling the blade of a knife with a deliberate thumb. The Toadies standing in doorways or stumping through the narrow alleyways glanced at her and hastily away again. I grinned. She could look plenty formidable when she chose.

  Strings of laundry swung over our head, flapping in the hot breeze. Noise battered at our eardrums, smells clawed at our nostrils, and the locals bumped into us at every possible turning. The streets and alleyways were far too narrow for the crowds. Following Kelsa's directions, I led the way, shouldering through locals arguing with one another, bargaining, wooing, bullying, child-disciplining, praying, playing, begging, gossiping, and more bargaining.

  Allowing for the difference in the physical form of the locals, Sri Port looked precisely like the Bazaar at Deva, if you sucked out all of the money from the latter.

  "A donation, good sir, a donation for the poor and blind child of leprous drunkard!" A skinny, purple, clawlike hand reached up to me from a collection of filthy rags.

  "He's lying," Kelsa said, cheerfully. "He's not blind, of course, and neither parent has leprosy. Actually, his mother has a degree in dental hygenics from the University of Sri Port, but they are having trouble keeping up with the mortgage on their little apartment. No cost of living increase this year, or for the last three years, for that matter. The dentist can't afford to give her one. He's having trouble with HIS mortgage, by the way. Shagul, here, begs after school, but he really should be home doing his book report. It's due tomorrow morning."

  A pair of goggling eyes glared hatred out of the folds of cloth. "The curse of the Thousand Gods be upon you!"

  "Go do your homework," I snarled, lunging toward him. He crabwalked hastily backwards away from me, scrambled to his feet, and ran.

  "Now, this one is poor," Kelsa went on, as we walked by a female dressed in a swathe of patched but clean cloth. "You've got a small silver piece in your purse. Drop it on the melon-seller's wagon as we go by. She'll pick it up."

  I didn't like having anyone dictate what I did with my money, and I'd spent plenty already in the service of the Golden Hoard. Besides, I already had a coin in my hand I'd been planning to drop in the shabby female's way. I'm not a total miser, no matter what you might have heard about me before. I brushed my hand over the rail of the cart, leaving the donation on the splintery plank. I didn't look behind me, and I wouldn't meet Tananda's eye. I could tell she was grinning. I cursed all magikal treasures and Trollops.

  "This is it!" Kelsa announced, as we shoved through the throng into yet another crumbling city square. The buildings here were just as dilapidated as the others, but the people here, by and large, were smiling. A lot of them squatted in the dirt in front of a low, more-or-less whitewashed building with big holes in the walls and a holey pink curtain for a door. "That's the place."

  "You could buy the whole house for a Devan nickel," Tananda said, letting out a low whistle.

  "The Purse is there?" Calypsa asked, in disbelief. "The source of unending wealth is in that hovel?"

  "That's what we're going to find out," I said. "Either the person who's got it doesn't know how to use it, or it's a fake. We've got to check it out."

  Tananda grabbed my arm. "Aahz, if that's their source of income, we can't just march in there and take it away from them. Look at the condition of this city!"

  "I'll make up my mind when I see it. Come on."

  When we started to cross the square, the Toadies hanging out in front of the white building sprang up. Three of the biggest breasted up to us. They stood maybe as high as my collar bone.

  "Who do you think you are? We were here first! Wait your turn!"

  "Who do you think YOU are?" I demanded. "I'm a peaceable kind of guy, so get out of my way before I stomp you into the dirt!"

  "Please, please," a low, musical voice said from the doorway. "No fighting here! This is a place of peace. Raniti, how rude you are! Can't you see that these are guests? All who come here are welcome."

  The crowd, which had clearly been spoiling for a good fight, all settled down into their crouches once again, grumbling under their breath. The speaker came out and took my hand. She was a very short, very wrinkled, old Toady in a swath of much-mended cloth and a head veil. She didn't seem particularly special to look at, with an unusually wide mouth and a flat nose, but there was fire in those bulgy eyes. I was impressed in spite of myself.

  "Come in, come in," she said. "I am Sister Hylida, abbess of the Toa Ddhole Mission. Welcome, welcome!" She gestured toward the door.

  There seemed to be as much deconstructed architecture inside as out, but it was arranged better. Two bricks propped up a vase with a broken foot. A shrine at one end had been put together out of pieces of carved marble, detritus from a number of different temples, eac
h with its own idea of ornamentation.

  "Ugh, what a stench! They're using dung fires," Calypsa said, in a low voice.

  "I think it's the food," Tananda whispered back.

  "Reminds me of Pervish cooking," I said. The smell was making me hungry.

  A couple of skinny Toadies in loincloths hurried to spread out a few straw mats over the packed dirt floor for us to sit on.

  "May I offer you cool water and a cloth to wash your hands?" Sister Hylida asked. The toadies hurried over with a chipped ewer and mismatched clay cups. I held mine in both hands, keenly aware of the solid gold, gem encrusted, magikal goblet in the custom-made carrying case next to me on the mat.

  The toadies hunkered down near the far wall as Sister Hylida squatted down with us. I heard curious whispers and giggles, and realized that faces were peering in the door and through the holes in the wall.

  "Our business is private," I said.

  "You will find that privacy is rare here," Hylida said. "But we can try to find some." She waved away the eavesdroppers with a little smile. The faces behind the wall retreated a few feet. I hoped they didn't have as keen hearing as Pervects did.

  She glanced at the sword lying half-sheathed across Calypsa's knees. "You won't need that here. What a beautiful weapon it is, though."

  Pervects are not normally concerned with the concept of 'an embarrassment of riches.' I don't usually have quibbles with who owns what. If I want something that belongs to someone else, sooner or later I'll figure out a way to get it. But this entire city seemed to be dirt poor, and here we had come clanking in with enough wealth to buy the whole place, mineral rights and all, looking for probably the only thing of value remaining. I felt like a rat as I cleared my throat.

  "Look, we're not from around here," I began. "We're on a mission…"

  "You are? Blessings be upon you from the Thousand Gods!" The little sister jumped up from her cloth and ran to the altar. She lit a stick of incense at the small tin brazier and stuck it in a dish full of sand in front of a tattered poster containing a myriad of images, no doubt her thousand gods, and chanted a tuneless wail that went up and down the scales like a cat's love song. Two of the acolytes ran in and began shaking sistrums and banging tambourines. My eardrums twisted at the noise. Hylida concluded her prayer and sat down again. "I am so happy to hear that. Most outworlders who find their way here are lost. How may I serve you upon this mission?"