Robert Asprin's Myth-Fits

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Why wouldn’t Servis just go to Looie?” I asked.

  Chumley shrugged, his fur fluttering on his massive shoulders.

  “He may not have experience traveling across the dimensions on his own. As you know, it’s a dangerous feat.”

  “Servis is on the run,” Aahz said. “Locating him has become an internal matter. Chances are the management will find him before we do. The best thing we can do is wait.”

  “All right,” Bunny said, all business once again. “I’ll find a manager and make sure they don’t just sweep the incident under the rug. Tananda and Chumley will come with me. Haroon’s the only one of us who might be able to locate the cup other than by chance. We might get lucky. Now that there are six cups, the chances are better that the Help Desk might find one of them.”

  “I’d be happy to lean on them,” Aahz said. “In a purely diplomatic way, of course.”

  He showed all his teeth.

  * * *

  Haroon, Gleep, and I spent the morning painstakingly walking up and down the manicured footpaths of Winslow. The flawless weather beamed kindly on us, not too hot or too cold, with a fragrant breeze that wafted the scent of the gardens everywhere. After the cup had disappeared right out of our grasp the night before, I found myself resenting the happy holidaymakers who lay in the sun or played carefree sports or games. In a way, we were trapped in Winslow until we finished our task.

  I couldn’t be angry at Bunny. She was only doing what she thought she needed to do to avoid having to go home to Klah and the Mob. I only wished that she had confided in us before. We would have worked out a scheme, as we had with Guido and Nunzio, to make certain Don Bruce would never pull her back. But I was frustrated.

  “Whoa, young’un,” Haroon said, pulling up suddenly in front of a shop. I glanced in the window. The display was full of novelty toothpick holders, hip flasks, and parasols, all pale blue with A Souvenir from Winslow! printed on them. “I’m gettin’ a strong scent in there. C’mon!” He put his nose to the ground and wove between the legs of the tourists. “’Scuse me, ma’am, sir. Hi, there, kiddies. Hey, there! Nice t’ see you folks!”

  “Stay out here, boy,” I said to Gleep. He whimpered at me, but I didn’t want to risk the accidental devastation of a hyperactive dragon romping past shelves packed with little ceramic knickknacks. But a puffy little cloud overhead suddenly rolled off, letting a sunbeam hit the pavement just where Gleep was sitting. He curled up with a happy sigh. I went into the shop.

  “Greetings, sirs!” said the chartreuse-haired man behind the counter. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

  “Uh, we’re just looking,” I said.

  A tall stand of five or six glass shelves stood next to the clerk’s table. On it stood petite footed mugs that looked like coffee cups but were too small for practical use. Haroon walked around and around it, sniffing energetically.

  “What have you found?” I asked.

  “Cup was here,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Not ours,” I said.

  “Nope. Looks as if all o’ them had the same smell. I mean, exactly the same smell. Strangest thing I ever heard of.”

  “Me, too,” I said. “Do you know who picked it up?”

  “Too many darned scents on this here stand, son,” Haroon said. “Can’t tell you where it went, but let’s see if we can figger out where it came from. Follow me!”

  He headed for the back of the shop. I hurried after him.

  On the way there, I passed a shelf filled with dirty dishes. Cups stained with coffee and lipstick lay on their sides on top of plates caked with bits of food. A tangle of sticky silverware was scattered across the whole display.

  “Look at that!” I said.

  Haroon glanced back and did a double take. He circled around to take a better look.

  “That ain’t right,” he said, shaking his long floppy ears until they rattled. “No one is gonna buy those!”

  Somewhere, someone else had the same thought. Suddenly, the dishes disappeared. In their place was a collection of soft-soled shoes adorned with seashells.

  “That’s a whole lot better,” Haroon said. “C’mon!”

  He went toward a closed door in the rear wall.

  A clerk who had just finished with his last customer ran to head us off. Instead of stopping us and telling us we couldn’t go in there, he hurried to open the door for us. Behind it was an open-fronted cabinet filled with embroidered shirts and a few of each of the knickknacks in the shop.

  “Can I help you find anything?” he asked, as Haroon had a good sniff up and down the shelves.

  “Sure, young man,” Haroon said. “Gold cup. Gems all over the handles. Probably sold it sometime yesterday afternoon.”

  “Yes, sir!” the blue-skinned youth said. “Only we didn’t sell it. It’s not part of our usual merchandise. We gave it away. It was part of the great Scavenger Hunt, one of the most successful contests we have ever had here!”

  “Who did you give it to?” I asked.

  “A really lovely lady,” he said. “A Caffiend! She came in here about twilight.”

  The sixth-place team!

  “And where did you get it from?” I asked. “Who brought it in here?”

  “No one brought it. It just appeared on the shelf.”

  “Got any more?”

  “No, sir! It was one of a kind.”

  The same answer came from everywhere else Haroon found the scent. The good-natured clerk with a whistle around his neck at the front desk of the Activities Department didn’t know how the Loving Cup had been placed on the list for the Scavenger Hunt.

  “I’m so sorry, sir!” he said. “We almost always use the same list. The master copy is in our air safe until it’s needed. No one can take it out until we need it.”

  “But someone did,” I said. “Do you know Servis?”

  The young man beamed.

  “Everybody knows Servis! He’s the best.”

  “Was he in here the other day?”

  “Yes! He was part of the recruitment group to find teams to play.”

  “Did he have access to the safe?”

  The young man thought about it for a moment.

  “No. He and his assistant took the pile of scrolls that were copied from it.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “All of them, sir! He’s so good at getting people involved in our games.”

  “That answers that,” Haroon said. “He changed it and made it look like an accident. Awful good at lyin’, I gotta say.”

  “Knowing that doesn’t help us find him,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Always a pleasure, Mr. Skeeve, Mr. Haroon!” the young man said.

  We emerged from the office into the street.

  “Wal, that didn’t help none,” Haroon said. “I’m a mite dry. How ’bout you, Skeeve?”

  I nodded. I had run out of ideas, and my feet were beginning to ache. One of the refreshing cocktails would cut the dust in my throat.

  “That would be great,” I said.

  “Hey, how ’bout some cold drinks here!” Haroon said to the air. He waited. “Y’know, that’s downright strange. I never waited more than a breath or two before someone showed up with . . .”

  Out of the air a few feet away, a pretty young Winslovak with light blue hair appeared, holding a tray in her hands. Her name tag read Refila.

  “Here you are, gentlemen!” she said. She handed me a silver beaker that was topped off with a cone of whipped cream.

  “Ow!” I exclaimed. It was hot! The cup fell out of my hand and splashed me all the way down my tunic and trousers. The server’s free hand flew to her mouth in horror.

  “Oh, Mr. Skeeve, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed. She turned away and disappeared. Two other employees appeared with towels. They
mopped me up and down.

  “We apologize deeply, sir,” the first said. He was tall and thin, with charcoal-gray hair. “She should have offered you a cocktail, not hot coffee.”

  Under their ministrations, the pain disappeared along with the stains.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Anyone could make a mistake.”

  The two employees exchanged a worried glance.

  “We don’t,” the second one said. He was short and stocky, with a square head between his little round ears. He reached into the air and brought forth a tray with clinking crystal glasses and bowls filled with pink liquid on it. He offered one to each of us. “Please enjoy these. And if there is any problem, please let us know.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Haroon said, lowering his face to take a slurp of his drink. “Just perfect. No problem.” He lapped the bowl empty.

  The two Winslovaks sighed with relief.

  “Thank you for saying so, sir,” said the second.

  I finished my drink and handed my glass back. I noticed that Gleep hadn’t touched his.

  “What’s the matter, boy?” I asked, putting my arm around his neck. “Doesn’t it taste good?”

  He snaked his head up and looked directly at me.

  “Gleep!” he exclaimed. His glance was full of meaning.

  What could make him so uneasy? Now that he mentioned it, I could feel a malign gaze.

  I looked around.

  “Haroon, is that girl anywhere near us?”

  Haroon lifted his nose to the air and sniffed mightily.

  “Harooooon!” he howled. A few families walking by turned to see if his cry heralded anything interesting, then kept going. “No, sir. I’d know her scent anyplace, and she ain’t within sniffin’ range.”

  I shook my head. Someone was watching us.

  “Let’s go back to the others,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Blood in the Nile? At least nothing else bad can happen.”

  —RAMESES II

  Bunny, Markie, Tananda, and Chumley were already under the trees when we returned. As soon as I sat down, a charming young Winslovak appeared with a tray of drinks and nibbles and served them.

  “No luck, huh?” Markie asked.

  “No,” I said. “Any signs of Servis?”

  “Everything but the actual guy,” she said. “I found his room, in the senior employee district, back behind the arena. Bed’s made. The place is spotless. No sign of him. His neighbors haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.”

  “He can’t hide forever. Where’s Aahz?” I asked.

  “Hark,” Chumley said, raising a finger to the air. “I believe I hear his dulcet tones.”

  Aahz stomped into view. He looked furious. If he could have breathed fire, he would have scorched the path ahead of him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Bad news?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. What’s this?” he snarled at the young lady who proffered him a green cocktail. “I don’t need an eye-cup!”

  She promptly vanished.

  “All right, Aahz,” Tananda said, a slow smile curving her lips. “What happened?”

  Aahz threw himself into a hammock and clenched his fists on his thighs.

  “They threw me out of the Central Help Desk!”

  “Why?”

  “No reason!”

  “No reason?” she asked, with a little smile. “You managed to provoke Winslovaks into making you leave the courtesy desk instead of letting you do what you want? Jeopardizing their dimension-wide reputation for never saying no to any request?”

  Aahz pursed his lips until he managed to squirt the words out.

  “I was just trying to push them a little. The sooner we get that cup back, the sooner we can get out of here.”

  “And by push you meant bully, cajole, and harass the staff and probably everyone who was waiting in line. Maybe even random passersby who were minding their own business?”

  “. . . Maybe.”

  Tananda put her hands on her hips.

  “Aahz!”

  Bunny looked crestfallen.

  “Look, Aahz, I’m sorry. If you want to go back to the Bazaar, go ahead. It’s my mess. I’ll stay here until I finish cleaning it up.”

  “NO!” he bellowed. His voice rang off the nearby buildings, startling a flock of birds into flight. “I’m going to get a beer. Anyone else want to come along?”

  “Sounds like a tip-top idea,” Chumley said.

  “Buy a girl a drink, big guy?” Tananda asked, twining her arm through mine.

  “Or two?” Bunny asked. She took my other arm. Feeling like the wealthiest man in Winslow, I escorted them both up the main street of the resort. Aahz turned inland and stomped up the street toward the Rusty Hinge. When I realized where we were headed, I halted.

  “I can’t go in there,” I said. “I got thrown out yesterday and told not to come back!”

  “If anyone stops you, we’ll talk to them,” Tananda said. “And by talk, I mean negotiate.” She took her dagger from her belt and flipped it nonchalantly in the air. When the hilt slapped into her palm, she holstered it. It would take a braver man than me to turn her down.

  To my enormous relief, nothing stopped me from passing through the doors. Chumley pushed them open without any trouble. The bartender, a sturdy female Winslovak with ample blue cleavage peeking out from the top of her drawstring-necked blouse, nodded curtly to us as we came in.

  The eternal poker game was going on at the front table. Nervously, I peeked around Chumley to see if the crazed Troll was still there. I sighed with relief. He was gone, probably home to Trollia. Instead, a slim, pale-skinned male who resembled a Klahd sat shuffling the cards.

  “How about a friendly game?” he asked, turning to us. He had red eyes, and when he smiled, his canines were as pointed as Aahz’s teeth. He beckoned with his long fingers. I noticed he had very sharp nails painted black.

  Aahz halted in his tracks. “No, thanks, pal.”

  He started to back out of the inn. Gleep and I edged behind him and pushed him forward.

  “Let me go!” he hissed. “That’s a Vampire!”

  “He’s not going to come after you,” Markie said. “He has a whole tableful of players he could bite. Why would he want you?”

  “Pervects are known to be delicious to Vampires,” Aahz said. “I take no chances.”

  Keeping the maximum distance between them that he could, Aahz edged toward the rear of the inn to a table in one of the wooden enclosures. Aahz took the seat in the corner of the booth with his back to the wall. Nothing was going to get behind him if he could help it.

  I pulled a tall stool close to the small round table. Chumley stalked over to the bar and pounded a fist on the polished top.

  “Service haste! Don’t time waste.”

  The bartender, polishing a glass in her apron, came over and listened intently to his murmured order. He stomped back to our booth. Once he was concealed behind the wall, he dropped his Big Crunch persona.

  “It is a shame that our search today bore no fruit,” he said.

  “Nothin’ yet, son, but there’s always tomorrow,” the Canidian said. “I figger that I’m gonna run into someone who smells like those cups who shouldn’t oughter. Then we’ll have ’em. Mr. Skeeve here’ll nab ’em with his magik, and Bob’s yer uncle.”

  “Derreck, actually,” Chumley said. “Our mumsy’s brother is a big fellow, but I take your point.”

  “Find Servis, and we’ll find the cup,” Tananda said. “He can’t hide forever.”

  “We don’t have forever,” Bunny said. “Looie comes back for the cup the day after tomorrow. In the meantime, we’re spending twenty-one gold pieces a day in resort fees. I don’t want to have Uncle Bruce think I can’t handle th
is business!”

  “Showing a loss for one quarter isn’t the end of the world,” I said. “Plenty of businesses have temporary downturns.”

  “You don’t understand,” Bunny said. “He’s not looking at the long run. He’s waiting for an excuse.”

  I exchanged a quick glance with Aahz.

  “We’ll renegotiate our terms with him,” I said. “Make him think we might ally ourselves even closer with him, as he hoped from the beginning.”

  “Make him think you’re going to marry me?” Bunny asked. Her cheeks turned pink.

  “He can think whatever he wants,” I said, offhandedly, though I felt far from casual about it. “We’ll just go on the way we have so far.”

  “That won’t work. He’ll just want to make wedding plans. He loves big, fancy events!”

  That would just cause another round of problems. I put my chin in my hand to think. I had been trying not to think of Bunny in that way. She had followed me loyally back to Klah when I had my crisis of confidence. Now that she was our president it would have been a definite conflict. Bunny and I had never really discussed such deeply important things since then. It was a subject I didn’t really want to revisit while we were in the midst of a crisis. But it would have torn my heart out to have her leave. What could we do to keep Don Bruce from taking her away? I would do anything for her.

  “I won’t use that as an excuse to him,” I said.

  “Fine,” Bunny said. “I wouldn’t want him to think I’d marry you like that.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I didn’t know what to think then. Maybe she had already decided I wasn’t worthy of her. And that was definitely something I didn’t want to discuss while we were working on a difficult assignment.

  “Mr. Skeeve!”

  One of the endlessly cheerful employees appeared at my side. She had a large cloth bag with her. I pulled myself upright.

  “Is that the Loving Cup?” I asked eagerly.

  “No, sir,” she said. “I’m from the Customer Appreciation Department! This is an award for all of you for being such good guests of the resort! You’ve passed two days here in Winslow, and we just want to let you know how much we love having you with us.” She reached into the bag and came out with a handful of necklaces strung with sparkling blue stars. She draped one around each of our necks. “There! Now, all of you have a really great day!”