Robert Asprin's Myth-Fits

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Hit me with your best spell, pal. Oh, I forgot—you don’t have any powers!”

  “Cheap shot,” Aahz said.

  Markie’s mouth twisted into a rueful knot. I knew she was trying to reform, but it couldn’t have been easy.

  “I know. Sorry, Aahz.”

  Aahz waved a hand magnanimously.

  “Forget it.”

  “Come on back with me. I’ll buy you a drink after I bump off Miss Fancy Pants.”

  “Don’t!” I pleaded.

  Markie put her small hands on her hips.

  “Why not? That trip could have been a death warrant for us, and I don’t take that from anyone.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to kill Wince instead? He was about to take us apart, piece by piece!” I shuddered at the memory of the knife that had touched my throat.

  Markie tossed her golden curls, which had miraculously regained their bounce and shine.

  “He was just doing his job. In fact, I was pretty impressed by him. Unlike your girlfriend. Overkill is the sign of an amateur.”

  “I don’t think she wanted to kill us,” I protested. “I think she was surprised.”

  “By what?” Markie demanded.

  “She recognized us,” Aahz said. “She recognized Skeeve, anyhow.”

  “But why would she send us to a dangerous dimension?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything to her. I’ve never seen her before.”

  “She wanted us out of the way, maybe permanently. You’re famous in magikal circles now, kid,” Aahz explained. “I put the word around myself when you were just getting started, but I’ve heard stories since then that I didn’t let out. Pretty impressive stories, too. Along with a few tales about me.” He grinned, showing his four-inch pointed teeth. “Those grew pretty well, too. Nothing like a game of Telephone to really blow things out of proportion.”

  “Tele-what?” I asked.

  “Forget it. Think of a crystal ball with perpetual connection problems.”

  Markie shook her head impatiently.

  “If we’re not going to go kill Miss Quick-on-the-Trigger, what are we going to do?”

  “Go back and keep looking for the Loving Cup,” I said. “But we have to find the others first. I’m worried about Bunny. Looie might have . . . taken advantage of her. He was sure trying.”

  “Say no more,” Haroon declared, shaking himself once again. He spattered the rest of us with bathwater and dragon scales. “Take me back to Winslow. I’ll just put my nose down and find the young lady’s scent.”

  “But what about her disguise?” I asked.

  “Huh! That illusion you put on her doesn’t change the way she smells, Mr. Skeeve. No more than making yourself look like a dried-out old prune changes you from being a young Klahd.”

  Since I’d been to Winslow before, I created a spell that would transport us back to my hotel room. For a moment, I hesitated, afraid I might fail. Then I realized I could do this without any trouble. I could relax. With a smile, I drew up enough power for the transference.

  BAMF!

  * * *

  We appeared inside our suite. Haroon applied his big black nose to the floor and started sniffing his way around. We followed him up the stairs and down the long corridor. Gleep stayed shoulder to shoulder with him as though curious about how Haroon did his job. I planned to ask my dragon what he had learned, later on when no one could overhear us.

  Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff!

  He stopped in front of one of the bedroom doors.

  Markie snorted.

  “No points for finesse,” she said. “This is Bunny’s room.”

  “Scent’s old,” Haroon said, walking in small circles. “At least a night’s worth. But over here’s different.”

  “Shhh!” I said.

  I put my ear to the door. Aahz followed suit. What we heard made both of our eyes go wide.

  ZZZZ hawnk! ZZZZ hawnk! Fuf fuf fuf snort! ZZZZ hawnk!

  “That’s not Bunny!” I said.

  Aahz didn’t wait to hear more. He twisted the knob and marched in.

  Bunny’s room was fancier and frillier than her bedroom in our tent in Deva. All the walls were painted with brilliantly colored frescoes of gardens and mythical animals. A shimmering cream-colored stone dressing table was topped with triple mirrors of the finest crystal. No fewer than three carved and gilded wardrobes lined the wall opposite the windows, with a cheval glass mirror on an oval swivel frame before them. But the main object in the room was a tremendous bed with pink ruffled hangings. Puffy feather quilts and enormous down pillows covered in white, silver, and pale pink lay scattered on the floor on both sides. A large mound lay under a rucked-up hot pink counterpane in the center of the round mattress. It was heaving and twitching.

  “I wouldn’t have believed it,” Aahz said, scratching his ear in bemusement. “I guess you can take the girl out of the Mob, but you can’t . . .”

  “Gleep!” announced my dragon. He slipped past me and charged toward the bed.

  “No, Gleep!” I whispered loudly.

  “Gleep!” he admonished me, with reproof in his large blue eyes. He jumped up on the canopy bed and pawed vigorously at the large lump under the blanket.

  It unrolled and disgorged its contents. I averted my eyes to avoid embarrassing Bunny. A sharp finger poked me in the ribs.

  “You can look,” Markie said. “It’s not her.”

  Snork WHONK!

  Puzzled, I glanced up. A figure lay on its back, belly heaving. To my relief, the sole occupant of the luxurious bed was Looie. He was wearing pale blue embroidered long johns that reminded me of the one-piece outfit in which my mother used to put me to bed when I was a tot. I could tell by his flaccid muscles and bad breath that could freeze a Cockatrice at fifty paces that he was drunk. Once I had recovered my wits, I noticed that his clothes were neatly folded over the back of the chair that stood before the dressing table. Bunny was nowhere in sight.

  “Where is she?” I asked, torn between relief and worry.

  “What I bin tryin’ to tell ya, sonny,” Haroon said, patiently. “I tole ya her footprints was some hours old. Come on. I’ll lead you to her.”

  I locked the door behind us so Looie couldn’t go wandering around through our quarters if he did wake up, and followed Haroon.

  He sniffed up and down the hallway, stopping first at one of our assigned doors, then another. Finally, he sat down before one.

  “Right here,” he declared.

  “But this is my room,” I said.

  Aahz smiled. He rapped on the door.

  “Bunny? It’s us.”

  The door opened a crack. Bunny peered out, a large metal club in her raised hand. As soon as she saw us, she dropped the metal pole. It clanged on the stone floor. She threw herself into our arms.

  “Oh, you can’t believe how glad I am to see you!” she said.

  “We, uh, found Looie,” I said.

  Bunny pursed her lips. “I hope he has a headache the size of a mountain,” she said, sourly. “That rat took me out to every watering hole and inn within five miles. He kept knocking back drinks and trying to get me drunk. What a cheapskate! He drank Wyvernian whisky and bought me Poulta Girl cocktails.”

  “I hope he didn’t try anything on you,” I said, severely.

  “Oh, he tried,” Bunny said, “but he’s about as smooth as a wood rasp. I was deflecting passes from men like him before I started wearing short skirts. I took a sip from each glass and dumped the rest into the centerpieces. Anyhow, he’s the client. I didn’t want him to get robbed or hurt once he was incapable of taking care of himself, and I didn’t want to end up carrying him, so I suggested we come back to my room. He jumped at the opportunity.”

  “I’ll bet,” Aahz said.

  “He chased me around the room for a few mi
nutes, then passed out. I threw his clothes over a chair and got out of there. I wasn’t going to stay in there with him in case he came to.”

  “You chose my room,” I said.

  She gave me a shy little grin.

  “I felt safe in there. Besides, Tananda and Chumley are back in their own suite. Markie’s bed is too small, and Aahz’s room, uh . . .”

  “Pervect luxury,” Aahz said, with a grin. “But you Klahds never appreciate the finest. Too bad I didn’t get to sleep in it.”

  “I didn’t really get any sleep, either,” Bunny said. “I kept thinking he would come through the door. I’m so glad you’re back!”

  “We’ll move your things to a different room,” I promised her. “But did you get him to agree to pay our expenses?”

  “No!” Bunny said. She looked glum. “We’ll have to find the cup, or eat the loss.”

  “We don’t need him,” Aahz said. “I took the job; now I’m declining it. It would give me great pleasure to go in there and tell him to take a hike.”

  Bunny put a beseeching hand on his arm. She looked as desperate as she had when Aahz first mentioned Looie’s commission.

  “Don’t,” she said. “We’ve had a lot of trouble getting lucrative contracts lately.”

  “All right,” Aahz said, looking as puzzled as I was. “I’m not going to argue with you now. Let’s just get the job done.”

  Bunny’s shoulders sagged with relief.

  “Thanks, Aahz.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “One picture is worth a thousand words.”

  —L. FLYNT

  No matter what the time of day, Winslow’s staff was happy to oblige with whatever meal its guests wanted to eat. Chumley, normally so mild-mannered, was aroused from a deep slumber with a ferocious appetite for breakfast. As a result, after those of us who had been to Maire had had a speedy bath, all eight sat down to a table sagging under platters of what each of us liked for our morning meal.

  “Give steak, no take!” the Troll demanded, pointing at a heaping plate of meat near me.

  He spoke in the manner of his stage name, Big Crunch, because of the presence of two aproned servers. Whether or not Winslow’s employees were aware that Trolls’ uncouth behavior in public was usually subterfuge, Chumley did not want to be the one who revealed his fellows’ secrets.

  The waitress close to my end of the table reached for the serving dish, but I waved her back. Happy to be back in a dimension where my powers worked as I expected them to, I levitated the platter and sent it floating toward him. Aahz speared a slab of meat from it as it went by. Chumley growled and grabbed the plate out of the air, curling one massive arm around it while he tore into the heap of steak. With lightning reflexes, Tananda stabbed over the mighty furred limb and speared a piece from her brother’s plate with her belt knife. She chewed the meat off the point of the blade.

  Gleep lay on the floor at my side, chewing on a roasted orange-scaled reptile that had been thoughtfully garnished with a sprig of parsley. Bunny breakfasted from a rectangular porcelain platter on which were placed four small square dishes of food, each a different color. Markie’s idea of a morning meal involved individual bite-sized items each skewered with slivers of wood. She picked up a small round of savory-smelling meat and nibbled at it.

  I went back to the plate of golden-yolked duckhen eggs, over easy, in front of me, my second helping so far. They tasted as good as any my mother ever cooked on our farmhouse’s ancient stove. After our experience in Maire, I could have eaten a whole coop’s worth of omelettes, along with toast, porridge, juice, fruit, pastries, and plenty of coffee on the side. I couldn’t face red meat. Not for a while to come. Thankfully, there was no Pervish food on the table, either.

  “We now know at least one of Looie’s other hires on the trail of the Loving Cup,” Aahz said. “Miss Fancy Pants being so quick on the trigger suggests that there are more agents out looking for it than just us.”

  “Why didn’t she use a death spell to start with?” Tananda asked, reaching over the table to spear one of my pastries. “It’s so much more trouble to transport your rivals than kill them. She had plenty of power, so why take the trouble?”

  “Not kill? No thrill,” Chumley surmised, chewing thoughtfully on a roasted beast leg.

  “She might not get a kick out of doing her own killing,” Markie replied, “but a trip to Maire is one-way.”

  “I think it was an accident,” I said. “I’m not very good at transference spells. Maybe she made a mistake.”

  “There was no way that was a mistake,” Aahz said. “I felt a magikal barrier hit us as we landed, which means she forced open their border spell to dump us there. That shows intent.”

  “I have never heard of Maire before,” I said.

  Tananda leaned back in her chair, displaying a memorable expanse of her cleavage, and addressed our two servers. “Would you two mind giving us the room for a little while? We have business to discuss.”

  “Of course, Miss Tananda,” the male said. He and his fellow Winslovak vanished at once.

  “I know all about Maire,” Tananda said, returning her attention to me. “In assassin circles, it’s a byword for a long and painful exit. Not our thing at all. A knife in the ribs, or a pellet of poison in the wine, make sure the mark is terminated, and out. A trip to Maire is punishment.”

  I gulped. It wasn’t often that Tananda discussed her previous job so openly. She saw my discomfort.

  “But enough about that,” she said, blowing a kiss my way. “Chumley and I did a little research about standard operating procedure here in Winslow.”

  “What’s that got to do with the Loving Cup?” Aahz asked.

  Tananda smiled at him.

  “Everything. You just have to ask for it.”

  “We did ask for it,” I said.

  “No, tiger, we asked how we could find it. We asked for clues to lead us to it. At no time did we make a direct request to have it given to us.”

  “That sounds too easy,” Bunny said.

  “It’s Deveelishly clever, what?” Chumley said. “Winslow has gained its not inconsiderable renown by fulfilling one’s whims, even before one has voiced them. Most of its visitors are content with endless cocktails and attractive companionship, both easily managed. Otherwise, its magik, which as you have already noted is pressed to its limits, would constantly run out, if the staff were forced to grant half-formed wishes to everyone who paid its all-inclusive fee. An item of great power is unlikely to be on the lips of a guest who is only here for the liquor and sunshine.”

  “Pretty smart,” Haroon said, looking up from his bowl. “I never thought about that before.”

  “Do they really try to grant special requests?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen them just about turn themselves inside out for guests,” the Canidian said. “They take their jobs mighty seriously here.”

  Aahz snorted.

  “Is that how the Loving Cup got here in the first place? Someone just requested it?”

  “It is possible,” Chumley said, with a vigorous nod that shook his shaggy fur. “In fact, it is more than likely. Such items usually occupy a recess in the deepest, most well-guarded of treasure chambers. It would take stealth and magik to remove it without detection. One would assume it would remain where it was until called for.”

  “And that’s why Looie is so angry,” I speculated. “Maybe it was stolen from him in the first place. Why didn’t he request it himself?”

  “Maybe he’s tried, and it got taken again. Someone here knew about the unwritten law of Winslow’s hospitality customs and exploited it.”

  “So we exploit it back,” Aahz said. “Hand me the steak sauce. Wheedling always makes me hungry.”

  * * *

  Haroon led us to the Central Help Desk, which was housed in a palace of its own on the manicu
red grounds. The eight-sided building’s walls gleamed pearl white. In every wall was an open door, and before every door was an enormous mat that said Welcome! I noticed that people on their way in wore expressions of deep gloom, pique, or just mild disappointment. Those leaving the office looked happy, some even ecstatic. As soon as we entered, I felt a wave of peace settle over me. We joined a line of guests waiting to be served. Suddenly, I didn’t feel very much like complaining. I wanted to go out to the beach again and get one of those tasty blue drinks.

  “Don’t let the calm spell get to you, big guy,” Tananda whispered in my ear. “We’re here to demand.”

  I steeled myself as our turn came.

  “Mr. Haroon, how lovely to see you again!” the perky young Winslovak behind the desk said.

  “Nice to see you, Turista,” Haroon said. “Hope you’re doing well. You look mighty pretty today.”

  She colored a lovely shade of royal blue.

  “Very well, thank you so much! And Mr. Skeeve! I hope you are enjoying your stay?”

  “Mostly,” I said.

  A tiny wrinkle marred the perfectly smooth blue forehead.

  “Only mostly, sir?” she asked. Her voice quavered, but she brought it under control. “What is wrong? Is our service lacking in any way? Your quarters? The grounds?”

  “Uh, no. Everyone is really nice. I like it here.”

  “Then, our food? Have we prepared something for you in a way that is not perfection itself?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve only had one meal here so far. It was delicious.”

  “But was it perfect?” Turista seemed truly concerned.

  I thought about it. “Yes. It was perfect.”

  Turista sighed. “Good. We would never want to serve you food that was below our very exacting standards. Then please tell me what problem I may solve for you?”

  “Well,” I said, trying to keep in mind the precise phrasing that my partners and I had discussed over the second half of breakfast. “I want something.”

  Turista lost the sorrowful expression and beamed at me, her small white teeth gleaming.

  “We would love to get it for you. What is it?”