Myth-Nomers & Im-Pervections

by Robert Asprin

  I paused, trying to organize my thoughts.

  "I'm not trying to get rid of you...really. I'd like nothing better than to have you stick around at least until I found Aahz. I just don't want to trade on our friendship. I got your services in a straightforward business deal...one you had no say in, if your account of how Djinger works is accurate. If I sounded a bit cold when I told you I thought our contract was complete, it's because I was fighting against begging you to stay. I was afraid that if I did, it would put you in a bad position...actually, it would put me in a bad position. If I made a big appeal to you and you said no, it would leave us both feeling pretty bad at the end of what otherwise has been a mutually beneficial association. The only thing I could think of that would be worse would be if you agreed to stay out of pity. Then I'd feel guilty as long as you were around, knowing all the while that you could and should be going about your own business, and would be if I weren't so weak that I can't handle a simple task by myself."

  The tears were running freely now, but I didn't bother trying to hide them. I just didn't care anymore.

  "Mostly what you've done," I continued, "is to keep me company. I've felt scared and alone ever since I hit this dimension...or would have if you hadn't been along. I'm so screaming afraid of making a mistake that I'd probably freeze up and do nothing unless I had somebody in tow to applaud when I did right and to carp at me when I did wrong...just so I'd know the difference. That's how insecure I am...I don't even trust my own judgment as to whether I'm right or not in what I do! The trouble is, I haven't been doing so well in the friendship department lately. Aahz walked out on me, the M.Y.T.H. team thinks I've deserted them...heck, I even managed to offend J.R. by trying to say thanks with my wallet instead of my mouth."

  It occurred to me I was starting to ramble. Making a feeble pass at my tear-streaked face with my sleeve, I forced a smile.

  "Anyway, I can't see imposing on you, either as a friend or a business associate, just to hold my hand in troubled times. That doesn't mean I'm not grateful for what you've done or that I'm trying to get rid of you. I'd appreciate it if you stuck around but I don't think I have any right to ask you to."

  Having run out of things to say, I finished with a half-hearted shrug. Strangely enough, after bearing my soul and clearing my mind of the things which had been troubling me, I felt worlds better.

  "Are you through?"

  Kalvin was still hovering patiently with his arms folded. Perhaps it was my imagination, but there seemed to be a terse edge to his voice.

  "I guess so. Sorry for running on like that."

  "No problem. Just as long as I get my innings."

  "Innings?"

  "A figure of speech," he waved. "In this case, it means it's my turn to talk and your turn to listen. I've tried before, but it seems like every time I start, we get interrupted...or you get drunk."

  I grimaced at the memory.

  "I didn't mean to get drunk. It's just that I've never..."

  "Hey! Remember? It's my turn," the Djin broke in. "I want to say...just a second."

  He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and...grew! Suddenly he was the same size I was.

  "There, that's better!" he said, dusting his hands together. "It'll be a littler harder to overlook me now."

  I was about to ask for a full accounting of his "meager" powers, but his last comment had stung me.

  "I'm sorry, Kalvin. I didn't mean to..."

  "Save it!" he ordered, waving his hand. "Right now it's my turn. There'll be lots of time later for you to wallow in guilt. If not, I'm sure you'll make the time."

  That had a nasty sound to it, but I subsided and gestured for him to continue.

  "Okay," he said, "first, last, and in between, you're wrong, Skeeve. It's hard for me to believe such a right guy can be so wrong."

  It occurred to me that I had already admitted my confidence in my perception of right and wrong was at an all time low. I didn't verbalize it, though. Kalvin had said he wanted a chance to have his say, and I was going to do my best to not interrupt. I owed him that much.

  "Ever since we met, you've been talking about right and wrong as if they were absolutes. According to you, things are either right or they're wrong...period. 'Was Aahz right to leave?'...Are you wrong to try to bring him back?...Well, my young friend, life isn't that simple. Not only are you old enough to know that, you'd better learn it before you drive yourself and everyone around you absolutely crazy!"

  He began to float back and forth in the air in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back. I supposed it was his equivalent of pacing.

  "It's possible for you, or anyone else to not be right and still not be wrong, just as you can be right from a business standpoint, but wrong from a humanitarian viewpoint. The worlds are complex, and people are a hopless tangle of contradictions. Conditions change not only from situation to situation and person to person, but from moment to moment as well. Trying to kid yourself that there's some master key to what's right and wrong is ridiculous...worse than that, it's dangerous, because you'll always end up feeling incompetent and inadequate when it eludes you."

  Even though I was having trouble grasping what he was saying, that last part rang a bell. It described with uncomfortable accuracy how I felt about myself more often than not! I tried to listen more closely.

  "You've got to accept that life is complicated and often frustrating. What's right for you may not be right for Aahz. There are even times when there is no right answer...just the least objectionable of several bad choices. Recognize that, then don't waste time and energy wondering why it is or railing that it's unfair...accept it."

  "I...I'll try," I said "but it's not easy."

  "Of course it's not easy!" the Djin shot back. "Who ever said it was easy? Nothing's easy. Sometimes it's less difficult than at other times, but it's never easy. Part of your problem is that you keep thinking things should be easy, so you assume the easy way is the right way. Case in point:

  You knew it would be hard to ask me to stay on after I had fulfilled the contract, so you decided the right thing to do was not to ask...ignoring how hard it would be for you to keep hunting for Aahz without me."

  "But if it would be easier for me if you stayed..."

  "That's right. It's a contradiction," Kalvin grinned. "Confusing, isn't it? Forget right and wrong for a while. What do you want?"

  That one was easy.

  "I'd like you to stay and help me look for Aahz," I said firmly.

  The Djin smiled and nodded.

  "Not a chance," he replied.

  "What?"

  "Did I stutter? I said..."

  "I know what you said!" I cut him off. "It's just that you said...I mean before you said..."

  "Oh, there's no problem in your asking me...or in your terms. I'm just not going to stay."

  By now my head was spinning with confusion, but I tried to maintain what little poise I had left. "...But I thought...Oh, well. I guess I was mistaken."

  "No you weren't. If you had asked me in the first place, I would have stayed.

  "Then why..."I began, but the Djin waved me into silence.

  "I'm sorry, Skeeve. I shouldn't tease you with head games at a time like this. What changed my mind was something you said while you were explaining why you didn't ask. You said you were scared and insecure, which is only sane, all things considered. But then you added something about how you were afraid to trust your own judgment and therefore needed someone else along to tell you whether you were right or not." He paused and shook his head.

  "I can't go along with that. I realized then that if I stayed, I'd fall into the same trap all your other colleagues have...of inadvertently doing your thinking for you when we express our own opinions. The sad thing is that we aren't, really. You decide yourself what advice you do and don't listen to. The trouble is, you only remember when you go against advice and it goes wrong...like when you got drunk tonight. Any correct judgment calls you assume were made by yo
ur 'advisors.' Well, you've convinced me that you're a right guy, Skeeve. Now all you have to do is convince yourself. That's why I'm going to head on back to Djinger and let you work this problem out on your own. Right or wrong, there'll be no one to take the credit or share the blame. It's all yours. I'm betting your solution will be right."

  He held out his hand. I took it and carefully shook hands with this person who had been so much help to me.

  "I...well, thanks, Kalvin. You've given me a lot to think about."

  "It's been a real pleasure, Skeeve...really. Good luck in finding our friend. Oh, say..."

  He dug something out of his waistband and placed it in my hand. As he released it, it grew into a full-sized business card.

  "That's my address on Djinger. Stay in touch...even if it's just to let me know how this whole thing turns out."

  "I will," I promised. "Take care of yourself, Kalvin...and thanks again!"

  "Oh, and one more thing...about your having problems with your friends? Forget trying to be strong. Your real strength is in being a warm, caring person. When you try to be strong, it comes across as being cold and insensitive. Think about it."

  He gave one last wave, folded his arms, and faded from view.

  I stared at the empty space for a few moments, then started the walk back to my hotel alone. I knew where it was...what I didn't know was where Djinger was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Easy credit terms available..."

  -Satan

  "I HEAR YOU got jumped last night."

  I paused in mid-move of easing myself into the cab's back seat to give the cabbie a long stare.

  "...And good morning to you, too, Edvick," I said drily. "Yes, thank you, I slept very well."

  My sarcasm was not lost on the driver...a fact for which I was secretly grateful. Sometimes I have cause to wonder about my powers of communication.

  "Hey! Nothing personal. It's just that people talk, ya know?"

  "No, I don't...but I'm learning."

  It seemed that however large and populated Perv appeared to be, there was a thriving network of gossip lurking just out of sight.

  I had come down early, hoping to have a chance to talk with J.R., but between my room and the front door I had been stopped by two bellhops and the desk clerk, all of whom knew that I had been in a fight the night before. Of course, they each expressed their sympathies...in varying degrees. As I recall, the desk clerk's sympathy went something like "You're, welcome to use the hotel safe for your valuables, sir...but we can't accept responsibility for any losses."

  Terrific!!

  I had rapidly discovered that I wasn't wild about the idea of my escapade being discussed by the general populace. Especially not since it ended with a session with the police.

  Even though he had noted my displeasure at discussing the prior night's incident, Edvick seemed determined not to let the subject die as we started on our way.

  "I told you, you should have gotten a bodyguard," he lectured. "Carrying that kind of cash around is just askin' for trouble."

  "Funny, the police said the same thing...about the cash, I mean."

  "Well they're right...for a change. Things are dangerous enough around here without drawing unnecessary attention to yourself."

  I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. I hadn't slept well, but the brief time I had spent in a horizontal position had allowed my muscles to tighten, and I ached all over.

  "So, I discovered," I said. "Oh well, it's over now. Besides, I didn't do such a bad job of taking care of myself."

  "The way I heard it, someone showed up to help bail you out," Edvick pointed out bluntly, "and even then it was touch and go. Don't kid yourself about it being over, though. You'd just better hope your luck holds the next time."

  Suddenly, my aching muscles were no longer the main claim to my attention.

  "Next time?" I said, sitting up straight. "What next time?"

  "I don't want to sound pessimistic," the cabbie shrugged, "but I figure it's a given. Those guys you messed up are going to be back on the street today, and will probably devote a certain amount of their time and energy trying to find you for a rematch."

  "You think so?"

  "Then again, even if I'm wrong, the word is out that you're carrying a good sized wad around with you. That's going to make you fair game for every cheap hoodlum looking to pick up some quick cash."

  I hadn't stopped to consider, it, but what Edvick was saying made sense. All I needed to make my mission more difficult was to have to be watching my back constantly at the same time!

  "I'm sorry, what was that again?" I said, trying to concentrate on what the driver was saying.

  "Huh? Oh, I was just sayin' again that what you should really do is hire a bodyguard...same as I've been sayin' right along."

  He had been saying that all along, and Kalvin had agreed with him. I had poo-pooed the idea originally, but now I was forced to reexamine my stance on the matter.

  "Nnnnno," I said, finally, talking to myself. "I can't do it."

  "Why not?" Edvick chimed in, adding his two cents to the argument drawing to a close in my mind.

  "Well, the most overpowering reason is that I can't afford one."

  The cabbie snorted.

  "You've got to be kidding me. With the money you've got?"

  "It may seem like a lot, but nearly all of it is already committed to you and the hotel."

  The cab swerved dangerously as Edvick turned in his seat to stare at me.

  "You mean that's all the money you have? You're carrying your whole bankroll?"

  As upset as I was, that thought made me laugh.

  "Not hardly," I said. "The trouble is that most of my money is back on Deva. I only brought some of it along for pocket expenses. Unfortunately I badly underestimated what the prices would be like here, so I have to keep an eye on my expenses."

  "Oh, that's no problem," the cabbie retorted, turning his attention to the road again. "Just open a line of credit here."

  "Do what?"

  "Talk to a bank and borrow what you need against your assets. That's how I came up with the money for this cab...not to mention my other ventures. Sheese! If everybody tried to operate on a cash basis, it would ruin the dimension's economy!"

  "I don't know," I hesitated. "Nobody on this dimension really knows me. Do you really think a bank would be willing to trust me with a loan?"

  "There's only one way to find out," Edvick shrugged. "Tell you what...there's a branch of my bank not far from here. Why don't you pop in and talk to them. You might be surprised."

  The bank itself was not particularly imposing; a medium-sized storefront with a row of teller windows and a few scattered desks. Some doors in the back wall presumably led to offices and the vault, but they were painted assorted bright colors and in themselves did not appear particularly ominous. Still, I realized I felt no small degree of nervousness as I surveyed the interior. There were small clues here and there which bespoke a seriousness which belied the studied casualness of the decor. Little things, like the machines mounted high in the corners which constantly swept the room as if monitoring the movements of both tellers and customers. The tellers themselves were secure behind high panes of innocent-looking glass, doing business through an ingenious slot and drawer arrangement at each station. An observant person such as myself, however, could not help but notice that if the degree of distortion were any indication, the glass was much thicker than it might first appear. There were also armed guards scattered around the room draped with an array of weapons which did not look at all ceremonial or decorative. There was a great deal of money here, and an equally great effort was being made to be sure no one decided to simply help themselves to the surplus.

  I had a hunch the kind of business I had in mind would not be handled over the counter by a teller, and, sure enough when I inquired, I was ushered immediately through one of the brightly painted doors into a private office.

  The individual fac
ing me across the desk rose and extended a hand in greeting as I entered. He was impeccably dressed in a business suit of what could only be called, a conservative cut...particularly for a Pervect, and he oozed a sincere warmth that bordered on oily. Green scales and yellow eyes notwithstanding, he reminded me of Grimble, the Chancellor of the Exchequer I had feuded with back at Possiltum. I wondered briefly if this was common with professional money guardians, everywhere...maybe it was something in a ledger paper. If so, it boded ill for my dealing today...Grimble and I never really got along.

  "Come in, come in," the individual purred. "Please, have a seat Mister...?"

  "Skeeve," I said, sinking into the indicated chair. "And it's just 'Skeeve,' not Mr. Skeeve."

  I had never been wild about the formality of "Mister" title, and after having it hissed at me by the police the night before, I was developing a positive aversion to it.

  "Of course, of course," he nodded, reseating himself. "My name is Malcolm."

  Perhaps it was his similarity to Grimble, but I was finding his habit of repeating himself to be a growing annoyance. I reminded myself that I was trying to court his favor and made an effort to shake the feeling off.

  "...And how can we be of service to you today?"

  "Well, Malcolm, I'm a businessman visiting here on Perv," I said, aware as I spoke that I was unconsciously falling into a formal speech pattern. "My expenses have been running a bit higher than I anticipated, and frankly my ready cash supply is lower than I find comfortable. Someone suggested that I might open a line of credit with your bank, so I stopped in to see if there was any possibility we might work something out."

  "I see."

  He ran his eyes over me, and much of the warmth went out of the room. I was suddenly acutely aware of how I was dressed.

  After overdressing for my interview with the Butterfly, I had decided to stick with my normal, comfortable, informal appearance. I had anticipated that bankers would be more conservative than financiers, and that a bank would probably be equipped to detect disguise spells, so it would be wisest if I was as open and honest as possible. Courtesy of a crash course by Bunny, my administrative assistant, on how to dress, my wardrobe was nothing to be embarrassed about, but I probably didn't look like most of the businessmen Malcolm was used to dealing with. His visual assessment of me reminded me of the once-over I would get when encountering a policeman...only more so. I had a feeling the banker could tell me how much money I had in my pockets down to the loose change.