MA02 Myth Conceptions

by Robert Asprin

  At one point, our path was all but blocked by a booth selling rings which shot bolts of lightning. Between the salesman’s demonstrations and the customers trying out their purchases, the way was virtually impassable.

  Aahz and Tanda never broke stride, however, confidently maintaining their pace as they walked through the thick of the bolts. Miraculously, they passed through unscathed.

  Gritting my teeth, I seized one of Gleep’s ears and followed in their footsteps. Again, the bolts of energy failed to find us. Apparently no Deveel would bring injury or allow anyone in his shop to bring injury to a potential customer. It was a handy fact to know.

  The lightning rings brought something else to mind, however. The last time we parted company with Tanda, Aahz had given her a ring that shot a heat ray capable of frying a man-sized target on the spot. That’s right ... I said gave it to her. You might think this was proof of the depth of his feelings for her. It’s my theory he was sick. Anyway, I was reminded of the ring and curious as to what had become of it.

  Increasing my pace slightly, I closed the distance between myself and the pair in the lead, only to find they were already engrossed in a heavy conversation. The din which prevails at the Bazaar stymies any attempt at serious eavesdropping, but I managed to catch occasional bits and pieces of the conversation as we walked.

  “… heard ... awfully expensive, aren’t they?” Tanda was saying.

  “... lick their weight in ...“Aahz replied smugly. I moved in a little closer, trying to hear better.

  “... makes you think they’ve got anyone here?” Tanda asked.

  “With the number of bars here?” Aahz retorted, “The way I hear it, this is one of their main ...”

  I lost the rest of that argument. A knee-high, tentacled mess suddenly scuttled across my boots and ducked through a tent flap, closely pursued by two very frustrated-looking Deveels.

  I ignored the chase and the following screams, hurrying to catch up with Aahz and Tanda again. Apparently they were discussing mercenaries, and I wanted to hear as much as possible, both to further my education, and because I might have to lead them into battle eventually.

  “… find them?” Tanda was asking. “All we have is a general area.”

  “... easy,” Aahz replied confidently. “Just listen for the singing.”

  “Singing?” Tanda was skeptical.

  “It’s their trademark.” Aahz pronounced. “It also lands them in most of their ...”

  A Deveel stepped in front of me, proudly displaying a handful of seeds. He threw them on the ground with a flourish, and a dense black thornbush sprang up to block my path. Terrific. Normally, I would have been fascinated, but at the moment I was in a hurry.

  Without even pausing to upbraid the Deveel, I took to the air, desperation giving wings to my feet ... desperation assisted by a little levitation. I cleared the thornbush easily, and touched down lightly on the far side, only to be nearly trampled by Gleep as he burst through the barrier.

  “Gleep?” he said, cocking his head at me curiously.

  I picked myself up from the dust where I had been knocked by his enthusiasm and cuffed him.

  “Watch where you’re going next time,” I ordered angrily.

  He responded by snaking out his long tongue and licking my face. His breath was devastating and his tongue left a trail of slime. Obviously my admonishment had terrified him.

  Heaving a deep sigh, I sprinted off after Aahz with Gleep lumbering along in hot pursuit.

  I was just overtaking them, when Aahz stopped suddenly in his tracks and started to turn. Unable to halt my headlong sprint, I plowed into him, knocking him sprawling.

  “In a hurry, handsome?” Tanda asked, eyeing me slyly.

  “Gee, Aahz,” I stammered bending over him, “I didn’t mean to ...”

  From a half sitting position, his hand lashed out in a cuff that spun me half way around.

  “Watch where you’re going next time,” he growled.

  “Gleep!” said the dragon and licked my face.

  Either my head was spinning more than I thought, or I had been through this scene before.

  “Now quit clowning around and listen, kid.”

  Aahz was on his feet again, and all business.

  “Here’s where we part company for a while. You wait here while I go haggle with the mercenaries.”

  “Gee, Aahz,” I whined. “Can’t I ...”

  “No you can’t!” he said firmly. “The crew I’m going after is sharp. All we need is one of your dumb questions in the middle of negotiations and they’ll triple their prices.”

  “But ...”I began.

  “You will wait here,” Aahz ordered. “I repeat, wait. No fights, no window shopping for dragons, just wait!”

  “I’ll stay here with him, Aahz,” Tanda volunteered.

  “Good,” Aahz nodded. “And try to keep him out of trouble, okay?”

  With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Actually, I wasn’t too disappointed. I mean, I would have liked to have gone with him, but I liked having some time alone with Tanda even more ... that is, if you can consider standing in the middle of the Bazaar at Deva being alone with someone.

  “Well, Tanda,” I said, flashing my brightest smile.

  “Later, handsome,” she replied briskly. “Right now I’ve got some errands to run.”

  “Errands?” I blinked.

  “Yea. Aahz is big on manpower, but I’d just as soon have a few extra tricks up my sleeve in case the going gets rough,” she explained. “I’m going to duck over to the Special Effects section and see what they have in stock.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s go.”

  “No you don’t,” she said shaking her head. “I think I’d better go this one alone. The kinds of places I have in mind aren’t fit for civilized customers. You and the dragon wait here.”

  “But you’re supposed to be keeping me out of trouble!” I argued.

  “And that’s why I’m not taking you along,” she smiled, “Now, what do you have along, in the way of weaponry?”

  “Well ...”I said hesitantly, “there’s a sort of a sword in one of Gleep’s packs.”

  ‘‘Fine!’’ she said. “Get it out and wear it. It’ll keep the riff-raff at a distance. Then ... um ... wait for me in there!”

  She pointed at a dubious-looking stone structure with a peeling sign on its front.

  “What is it?” I asked, peering at it suspiciously,

  “It’s a ‘Yellow Crescent Inn,’” she explained. “It’s sort of a restaurant. Get yourself something to eat. The food’s unappetizing, but vaguely digestible.”

  I studied the place for a moment.

  “Actually,” I decided finally, “I think I’d rather ...”

  Right about there I discovered I was talking to myself. Tanda had disappeared without a trace.

  For the second time in my life I was alone in the Bazaar at Deva.

  FASCINATING AS THE Bazaar is, facing it alone can be rather frightening.

  As such, I decided to follow Tanda’s advice and entered the inn.

  First, however, I took the precaution of tethering Gleep to the inn’s hitching post and unpacking the sword. We had one decent sword. Unfortunately, Aahz was currently wearing it. That left me with Garkin’s old sword, a weapon which has been sneered at by demon and demon hunter alike. Still, its weight was reassuring on my hip, though it might have been more reassuring if I had known anything about how to handle it. Unfortunately, my lessons with Aahz to date had not included swordsmanship. I could only hope it would not be apparent to the casual observer that this was my first time wearing a sword.

  Pausing in the door, I surveyed the inn’s interior. Unaccustomed as I was to gracious dining, I realized in a flash that this wasn’t it.

  One of the
few pieces of advice my farmer-father had given me before I ran away from home was not to trust any inn or restaurant that appeared overly clean. He maintained that the cleaner a place was, the more dubious the quality and origin of their food would be. If he were even vaguely right, this inn must be the bottom of the barrel. It was not only clean, it gleamed.

  I do not mean that figuratively. Harsh overhead lights glinted off a haphazard arrangement of tiny tables and uncomfortable looking chairs constructed of shiny metal and a hard white substance I didn’t recognize. At the far end of the inn was a counter behind which stood a large stone gargoyle, the only decorative feature in the place. Behind the gargoyle was a door, presumably leading into the kitchen. There was a small window in the door through which I caught glimpses of the food being prepared. Preparation consisted of passing patties of meat over a stove, cramming them into a split roll, slopping a variety of colored pastes on top of the meat, and wrapping the whole mess in a piece of paper.

  Watching this process confirmed my earlier fears. I do all the cooking for Aahz and myself, before that for Garkin and myself, and before that just for myself. While I have no delusions as to the high quality of my cooking, I do know that what they were doing to that meat could only yield a meal with the consistency and flavor of charred glove leather.

  Despite the obviously low quality of the food, the inn seemed nearly full of customers. I noticed this out of the corner of my eye. I also noticed that a high percentage of them were staring at me. It occurred to me that this was probably because I had been standing in the door for some time without entering while working up my courage to go in.

  Feeling slightly embarrassed, I stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind me. With fiendish accuracy, the door closed on my sword, pinning it momentarily and forcing me to break stride clumsily as I started forward. So much for my image as a swordsman.

  Humiliated, I avoided looking at the other customers and made my way hurriedly to the inn’s counter. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do once I got there, since I didn’t trust the food, but hopefully people would stop staring at me if I went through the motions of ordering.

  Still trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, I made a big show of studying the gargoyle. There was a grinding noise, and the statue turned its head to return my stare. It wasn’t a statue! They really had a gargoyle tending the counter!

  The gargoyle seemed to be made of coarse, grey stone, and when he flexed his wings, small pieces of crushed rock and dust showered silently to the floor. His hands were taloned, and there were curved spikes growing out of his elbows. The only redeeming feature I could see was his smile, which in itself was a bit unnerving. Dominating his wrinkled face, the smile seemed permanently etched in place, stretching well past his ears and displaying a set of pointed teeth even longer than Aahz’s.

  “Take your order?” the gargoyle asked politely, the smile never twitching.

  “Urn ...”I said taking a step back. “I’ll have to think about it. There’s so much to choose from.”

  In actuality I couldn’t read the menu ... if that’s what it was. There was something etched in the wall behind the gargoyle in a language I couldn’t decipher. I assume it was a menu because the prices weren’t etched in the wall, but written in chalk over many erasures.

  The gargoyle shrugged.

  “Suit yourself,” he said indifferently. “When you make up your mind, just holler. The name’s Gus.”

  “I’ll do that ... Gus,” I smiled, backing slowly toward the door.

  Though it was my intent to exit quietly and wait outside with Gleep, things didn’t work out that way. Before I had taken four steps, a hand fell on my shoulder.

  “Skeeve, isn’t it?” a voice proclaimed.

  I spun around, or started to. I was brought up short when my sword banged into a table leg. My head kept moving, however, and I found myself face to face with an Imp.

  “Brockhurst!” I exclaimed, recognizing him immediately.

  “I thought I recognized you when you ... hey!” the Imp took a step backward and raised his hands defensively. “Take it easy! I’m not looking for any trouble.”

  My hand had gone to my sword hilt in an involuntary effort to free it from the table leg. Apparently Brockhurst had interpreted the gesture as an effort to draw my weapon.

  That was fine by me. Brockhurst had been one of Isstvan’s lieutenants, and we hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Having him a little afraid of my “ready sword” was probably a good thing.

  “I don’t hold any grudge,” Brockhurst continued insistently “That was just a job! Right now I’m between jobs ... permanently!”

  That last was added with a note of bitterness which piqued my curiosity.

  “Things haven’t been going well?” I asked cautiously.

  The Imp grimaced.

  “That’s an understatement. Come on, sit down. I’ll buy you a milkshake and tell you all about it.”

  I wasn’t certain what a milkshake was but I was sure I didn’t want one if they were sold here.

  “Um ... thanks anyway, Brockhurst,” I said forcing a smile, “But I think I’ll pass.”

  The Imp arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Still a little suspicious, eh?” he murmured. “Well, can’t say as I blame you. Tell you what we’ll do.”

  Before I could stop him, he strolled to the counter.

  “Hey, Gus!” he called. “Mind if I take an extra cup?”

  “Actually ...”the gargoyle began.

  “Thanks!”

  Brockhurst was already on his way back, bearing his prize with him, some kind of a thin-sided, flimsy canister. Plopping down at a nearby table, he beckoned me over, indicating the seat opposite him with a wave of his hand.

  There was no gracious course for me to follow other than to join him, though it would later occur to me I had no real obligation to be gracious. Moving carefully to avoid knocking anything over with my sword, I maneuvered my way to the indicated seat.

  Apparently, Brockhurst had been sitting here before, as there was already a canister on the table identical to the one he had fetched from the counter. The only difference was that the one on the table was three quarters full of a curious pink liquid.

  With great ceremony, the Imp picked up the canister from the table and poured half its contents into the new vessel. The liquid poured with the consistency of swamp muck.

  “Here!” he said, pushing one of the canisters across the table to me. “Now you don’t have to worry about any funny business with the drinks. We’re both drinking the same thing.”

  With that, he raised his vessel in a mock toast and took a healthy swallow from It. Apparently he expected me to do the same. I would have rather sucked blood.

  “Um ... it’s hard to believe things aren’t going well for you,” I stalled. “You look well enough.”

  For a change, I was actually sincere. Brockhurst looked good ... even for an Imp. As Aahz had said, Imps are snappy dressers, and Brockhurst was no exception. He was outfitted in a rust-colored velvet jerkin trimmed in gold which set off his pink complexion and sleek black hair superbly. If he was starving, you couldn’t tell it from looking at him. Though still fairly slender, he was as well-muscled and adroit as when I had first met him.

  “Don’t let appearances fool you,” Brockhurst insisted, shaking his head. “You see before you an Imp pushed to the wall. I’ve had to sell everything: my crossbow, my pouch of magic tricks. I couldn’t even raise enough money to pay my dues to the Assassins Guild.”

  “It’s that hard to find work?” I sympathized.

  “I’ll tell you, Skeeve,” he whispered confidentially, “I haven’t worked since that fiasco with Isstvan.”

  The sound of that name still sent chills down my back. “Where is Isstvan, anyway?” I asked casually.

  “Don’t worry about hi
m,” Brockhurst said grimly. “We left him working concession stands on the Isle of Coney, a couple dimensions from here.”

  “What happened to the others?”

  I was genuinely curious. I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with Tanda since our reunion.

  “We left Frumple under a cloud of birds in some park or other ... figured he looked better as a statue than he did alive, The demon hunter and the girl took off for parts unknown one night while we were asleep. My partner, Higgens, headed back to Impcr. He figured his career was over and that he might as well settle down. Me, I’ve been looking for work ever since, and I’m starting to think Higgens was right.”

  “Come on. Brockhurst,” I chided. “There must be something you can do. I mean, this is the Bazaar.”

  The Imp heaved a sigh and took another sip of his drink.

  “It’s nice of you to say that, Skeeve,” he smiled. “But I’ve got to face the facts. There’s not a big demand for Imps anyway, and none at all for an Imp with no powers.”

  I knew what he meant. All the dimension travelers I had met so far—Aahz, Isstvan, Tanda, and even the Deveel Frumple—seemed to regard Imps as inferior beings. The nicest thing I had heard said about them was that they were styleless imitators of the Deveels.

  I felt sorry for him. Despite the fact we had first met as enemies, it wasn’t that long ago I had been a klutz nobody wanted.

  “You’ve got to keep trying,” I encouraged. “Somewhere, there’s someone who wants to hire you.”

  “Not very likely,” the Imp grimaced. “The way I am now, I wouldn’t hire me. Would you?”

  “Sure I would,” I insisted. “In a minute.”

  “Oh, well,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t dwell on myself. How have things been with you? What brings you to the Bazaar?”

  Now it was my turn to grimace.

  ‘‘Aahz and I are in a bad spot,” I explained. “We’re here trying to recruit a force to help us out.”

  “You’re hiring people?” Brockhurst was suddenly intense.