“I want the Loving Cup,” I said. “I would really enjoy it if you brought it to my room.”
“Loving Cup?” Turista asked. She reached out into the air. Her hand returned with a small blank scroll. She took a pen from the inkwell on her side of the desk. “Loving Cup, for Mr. Skeeve,” she said as she wrote. She rolled up the small square of parchment and thrust it back into the air. It vanished. “Coming right up, sir. It should be there when you return to your suite. In the meantime, would you like a drink? A Hex on the Beach? Specialty of the house.” She nodded to my left. I turned to see one of the male beach bartenders appear with a tray bearing two glasses and a bowl. He handed the first glass to Tananda and the other to me.
“Thanks!” I said. I took a drink. It was decidedly nonalcoholic. They really knew how their clientele thought.
“And one for you, Mr. Haroon?” the server asked, offering the bowl to our guide. “May we make you a reservation at one of our bistros for lunch? As you know, the one next to the Reflecting Pool specializes in Canidian food.”
Haroon lifted his lugubrious brown eyes to her.
“No, thanks, just finished breakfast. Got to go water a tree already. ’Scuse me. Thanks a lot, Miss Turista!” Haroon sauntered out of the building.
“So, you think the cup will be in my room soon?” I asked Turista.
“Oh, yes, sir!” the girl beamed. “Please enjoy it, with our compliments!”
Tananda and I walked out sipping our drinks.
“That seemed too easy,” I said.
“It certainly did,” she said. “I wonder why.”
Bunny met us at the door of the suite. Her face was alight with excitement. She beckoned to us to follow her.
“A box came for you. I’ve tried to open it, but it’s bespelled in some way.”
“Box” was a distinct understatement. The package that stood on a hall table beside the door to my hotel room stood on a crystal pedestal. Tiny lights danced around it, shedding specks of color onto the perfectly smooth, pale blue gift wrap. It was not only tied with a ribbon but festooned with tasteful bows and tied with a variety of tiny toys shaped like musical instruments. A large card on the top was engraved with the most superb calligraphy I had ever beheld. It read To Mr. Skeeve. Aahz stood over it with a stick.
“It hit me with an electric shock when I tried to touch it,” Aahz said, his yellow eyes touched with peevish ochre.
“What’s the stick for?” I asked, puzzled.
“If I had my powers, I would blast it into next week,” Aahz said. “It’s a pain having to rely on brute force.”
“He has been attempting to open it in advance of your arrival,” Chumley said, amusement making his odd-sized eyes twinkle.
“I just haven’t got the right angle on it,” Aahz said, a little defensively.
“I fancy it won’t open because it is not addressed to you.”
“Let Skeeve try,” Bunny agreed.
When I took the card, the miniature musical instruments rose in the air and began to play a peppy melody. They concluded with an infectious fanfare. I pulled on the ribbon. The wrapping paper fell away. Iridescent bubbles the size of my fist rose to the ceiling and popped, releasing the scent of fresh flowers.
“I’d hate to see what they do when they really go to the trouble to fancy something up,” Aahz said, dryly.
In the center of the shimmering paper stood a carved wooden box. It had been painted the same pale blue as the Winslovaks themselves. I was almost twitching with anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see what was inside. I lifted the lid and pushed aside nests of feather-soft tissue paper to reveal the object it concealed, and gasped. I saw a heavy two-handled cup of chased metal on a twisted gold stem. It had magik. I could feel it before I touched it.
“The Loving Cup,” I breathed.
I raised it so the others could see it, too. My hands almost burned with the power flowing from the bowl.
“It’s not really what I expected,” Markie said.
“Mmmph mmmph mmm,” Chumley said. He had his hand held firmly over his mouth. Tears began to leak from his eyes. Tananda started tittering, then burst into raucous laughter.
“HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
Brother and sister hooted until they could hardly breathe. Chumley teetered and fell over onto Tananda’s shoulder. She held him up while both of them gasped for air, then broke into gales of fresh hilarity. She poked Aahz in the ribs. He leaned in close for a look at the cup in my hands, and exploded with mirth.
“WHA HAH HAH HAH!” He leaned against the wall until his legs gave out from under him. Then he slid to the floor, still laughing. I looked at Bunny. She was giggling, too.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, in bemusement. “Isn’t this the Loving Cup?”
They all shook their heads, unable to speak.
I examined our prize.
I had seen my share of magik items that looked like the ugly bric-a-brac my aunt kept on her mantelpiece. This one fit into that category, although it was more likely to be the kind of piece she kept in a cupboard unless the person who had given it to her came to visit. The surface of the golden metal had been hammered expertly into the images of people. Trolls and Trollops, to be exact. The physical differences between the genders were more extreme than I had seen in almost any dimension I had ever visited—though I admit my experience was limited. What was certain, and I had proof right there in my hands, was that the dimorphism didn’t interfere with their ability to procreate children. Or even practice at procreating. The closer I looked at the cup, the more I realized that the images that had been lovingly hammered into the metal were decidedly explicit. In fact, it could almost have been used as a three-dimensional how-to manual. I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment.
“But it’s magikal,” I said.
“So is everything in Achael’s Joke Shop,” Bunny reminded me. “That doesn’t make it an important object. This thing is really tacky. It looks like a bachelor-party door prize.”
“Then if it’s not the Loving Cup, what is it?” I asked.
“It is a loving cup,” Tananda said. “From Trollia. It’s a present for couples about to go on their honeymoons. Some of these cups actually move, so you can see what goes where.”
Hastily, I put our prize down, which provoked fresh outbursts from my friends.
“It’s not so bad, kid,” Aahz reassured me, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “You should see the ones from Perv. They’re only sold in the Bazaar in private tents because even the Deveels find them too hot to handle.”
“Well, it may not look like much, but if Turista said it’s the one, then maybe it is. Does it promote accord between two people?”
Tananda picked up the cup by both handles. “Well, I’m no expert, but it feels friendly to me.” She smiled and wiggled her shoulders in a manner that made a thrill go through my whole body. “Very friendly. Should we try it out, tiger?” She held one handle out to me. I raised my hands.
“Better not. Looie warned us not to invoke it, or it’ll disappear. I need to ask him if this is it. I just thought it would look different.”
“How different?” Tananda asked, with one eyebrow raised.
“Well, maybe decorated with people in elegant dress?” I said. “I bet most diplomats negotiate fully clothed.”
Tananda ran a finger around the tip of my ear.
“You’d be surprised, big guy,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask Looie,” Aahz said. “I once saw a magik ring that was so ugly it hurt to look at, but it produced a blast that could knock down a wall.”
“Ring-knockers?” Tananda asked.
“Yeah. It was one of a set of two.”
I put the cup back in the box so I didn’t have to look at it, and went in search of Looie.
I found our client in Bu
nny’s former bedroom, sitting over a huge silver mug from which steam was rising. One sniff was enough to tell me the beaker contained a powerful magikal hangover remedy I had had to resort to more than once back in the days when I drank too much. It tasted awful, but it worked. You just had to keep it down long enough for the spell to take effect. Looie clearly had not yet worked up the courage to drink it.
The headache and nausea didn’t make him any more pleasant to deal with. He looked at me out of one bleary eye. His greasy hair hung down over the other eye.
“Well?”
“I have your cup,” I said, setting the box on the table. Looie immediately hoisted the goblet and drained it. He tossed it over his shoulder. It clanged as it hit, but it disappeared on the second bounce—the Winslow invisible service. Looie looked revived, even enthusiastic.
“Let’s see it,” he said, beckoning.
Carefully, I lifted the goblet and set it down before him. His eyes went wide. Then his complexion darkened and his jowls shook with anger. He threw the cup at me. I caught it with a dab of magik before it hit me in the chest, but it made me angry.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“That’s not the Loving Cup, you idiot!” Looie exclaimed. “This is pornography molded in brass. The one I want is plain gold, just a goblet with jewels on the handles!” He held his head and moaned. “My head feels as if it’s going to explode. I’m going home. The contingents from our neighboring nations have gone back to their homes to bring our proposed terms to their rulers. You have five days. The next time I see you, you had better have the cup for me, or I’ll have you hounded to the far end of the dimensions!”
He pressed a gem on one of his outrageously ornamental bracelets and vanished with a loud BAMF, not letting me get in a retort.
I stomped back to my friends and told them what had happened. I shook the cup angrily. I didn’t throw it as Looie had done, but I felt like it.
“I just made a complete fool of myself!” I said.
“I hate to tell you I told you so, partner . . .” Aahz began.
“Then don’t!” I thundered.
“If you’re so smart, why did you go?” he bellowed at me.
“Because I thought I might be wrong!” I said. “This is the cup they sent us! I believed them when they said they’d get it for us!”
“Did the service desk lie to us?” Bunny asked, taking the cup out of my hands and setting it down out of my reach. “I thought Winslow always gave you what you asked for.”
“That is what we thought,” Chumley said. “This calls for further investigation.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Be very specific what you ask for.”
—ALADDIN
I set the goblet down on the Central Help Desk. Turista looked apologetic.
“I am so terribly sorry that this doesn’t fulfill your request,” Turista said, hastily offering it to the air, which swallowed it up without a trace. “I thought you wanted a loving cup. And since this lady”—she nodded to Tanda—“was with you, it seemed only right that we offer you one that depicted Trollops. Did you have a specific Loving Cup in mind?”
“We do. Did.” Trying hard to resist the calming spell that pervaded the Central Help Desk’s building, I gave her Looie’s description of the cup he wanted. “And it’s very magikal,” I added. “A very powerful item. One of a kind.”
Turista raised her pale eyebrows.
“Then let me see what we can find,” Turista said. She set an enormous crystal ball between us on the counter and gripped my hands in hers. “Concentrate, please.”
I peered into the ball from the other side. The clear crystal instantly filled with fog. I kept the description in mind and thought hard about diplomats and negotiators holding on to each handle of the cup. Thousands of tiny images spun past my wondering eyes. All kinds of drinking vessels appeared inside the ball, from a beaker carved from solid diamond, to a lowly paper receptacle from the Yellow Crescent Inn. The obviously wrong items popped and disappeared. That left hundreds more, but as Turista squeezed my fingers, those dropped away until only one was left.
From within the clouded depths of the crystal ball, a beautiful goblet arose. The gleaming golden bowl was a perfect inverted parabola, smooth and unornamented. The sapphire-encrusted handles invited hands of any size or shape to take hold. On the pedestal were inscribed runes too small and intricate for me to read.
“I think that must be the one,” I said.
“Yes, I see,” Turista replied, studying it very closely. She let go of my hands and reached into the air. An enormous silver-bound book appeared on her outstretched palms. She paged through it. “I don’t know if the item you want exists in Winslow, sir. It isn’t in our inventory list. But we will try to locate it for you. The request has been sent to our Fulfillment Department. Er . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if she were embarrassed at what she had to say next. “Mr. Skeeve, such an item of major importance and historicity is not generally covered in our all-inclusive fee. An extra charge might be levied, depending on how difficult the item is to obtain.”
“I understand,” I said. “If it’s hard for us to find, then it’s worth paying extra. But we would only pay a reasonable amount. And I want it as soon as possible.”
“We’ll inform you as to the cost. It will be your choice whether to accept it.” She waved a hand over the surface of the crystal ball, and the picture dissolved into the swirling whiteness. She beamed up at me. “In the meantime, why don’t you and your friends take advantage of our wide range of entertainment? We will deliver the cup to you as soon as we can.”
“Can I check back with you?” I asked.
“Any time, Mr. Skeeve!” she said, with a smile.
* * *
“What now?” I asked, when I had related to my friends what Turista told me.
Aahz shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a massage scheduled on the beach. Why don’t you just enjoy yourself? I bet my masseuse Sveda has a partner who could give you a great back rub.”
“No, thanks,” I said, feeling impatient. “What about the rest of you?”
“Bunny, Markie, and I are getting our nails done,” Tanda said, rubbing her fingertips against her brief leather jerkin. “Chumley’s got a book he wants to finish. Come and talk to us.”
“Gleep!” said my dragon, eagerly. Tananda pulled his head close and scratched vigorously between his ears. His eyelids drooped with bliss.
“Gleep’s coming. How about you?” she asked me.
I didn’t want to snap at them, even though I thought they were wasting time that could be better used looking for the cup. I no longer really trusted the staff to find it on their own. But I didn’t know where to start.
“I think I’ll just walk around,” I said at last.
“Mind if I join you?” Haroon asked, cocking one ear.
I would have preferred to be alone. I opened my mouth to say so, but he fixed those big brown eyes on me and let out a low, sorrowful whine, the kind of noise Gleep made when I wouldn’t let him eat the upholstery. I relented.
“Sure,” I said.
Haroon and I set out walking along the wide thoroughfare that led toward low hills in the distance. I saw no vehicles whatsoever, not even a flying carpet. Everyone walked in this dimension.
In the short stretch from the Central Help Desk to the first intersection, I had to turn away blue-skinned Winslovaks offering me drinks, souvenir items, and maps of the resort. Evidently, word got back to the hospitality hub, because the friendly staff stopped bothering us. If I caught their eyes, they smiled. Other than that, they left us alone.
“Some reason you don’t want to go relax, Mr. Skeeve?” Haroon asked, after we had walked for a while in companionable silence.
I thought hard for a moment. The tension I felt wasn’t normal. I was a pretty eas
ygoing fellow as a rule. I simply couldn’t sit still.
“Gee, I just don’t feel as if I can,” I said. “It’s not just waiting for the cup to show up.”
“A guy who just saw his whole life pass before his eyes might have a different perspective than someone who spent the night on the beach,” Haroon said, with a wise look.
“Uh, yes,” I said. I hammered my fist into my palm. “That’s it, exactly! I feel like I don’t have any more time to waste.”
“You’re young to get perspective like that, but it’s not a bad thing. In time, you’ll learn to relax again.”
“Never,” I said, firmly. “I won’t be able to rest until we find the Loving Cup. Then we can go back to Deva, where . . .”
My voice trailed off. I didn’t have an extended plan for the time when our mission had been completed. In fact, I felt lost. Something had been taken out of me. I hadn’t realized it at first when we returned from Maire. We had been in terrible situations before, but that was the first time I had ever felt utterly trapped with no means of escape. M.Y.T.H., Inc.’s mission was to solve problems for people. To that end, we had walked into plenty of places that were probably just as dangerous. I just had never been so aware before that I might not be able to walk out again.
“How about we just stroll around for a while?” Haroon asked. “Turista and the others will turn themselves absolutely inside out to find you that cup, now that they know exactly what you want. Can’t do anything until you have it.”
“I suppose not,” I said. I glanced around, and my eyes lit on the sign swinging above a pair of wooden doors. It read The Noisy Toddler. Tough-looking visitors pushed inside. As the doors swung open, I heard a clanky musical beat. A thirst such as I had not experienced in months overwhelmed me. “I need a drink.” I strode toward it.
“Can’t stop you, sonny,” Haroon said, loping along beside me, “but can an old fellow tell you that I think it’s a bad idea?”
“You can try,” I said. I threw open the double doors and marched up to the bar.
Robert Asprin's Myth-Fits Page 10
