She disappeared.
“Well, that and a dime will get you a cup of coffee,” Aahz said. He wrenched off the necklace and put it on the table. “Piece of junk.”
“What’s a dime?” I asked.
“A coin worth a cup of coffee,” Aahz said. “Mostly in metaphors.”
That was a dimension that I had never visited, so I took Aahz’s word for it.
I noticed a couple of young male Winslovaks in short but formal-looking white jackets and black bow ties going from table to table with a leather-bound book and a pad of paper. I watched with growing curiosity. Some of the patrons they spoke to just returned to their drinks, but others vanished into thin air.
“Now what?” Aahz asked, impatiently.
“Good afternoon!” the first employee said. “Have you made plans for dinner tonight?”
“No,” I said. “It’s too early. We were just going to have some lunch.”
“Even better!” the second one said, opening the leather-bound book and displaying its parchment pages to us. “We’re from Le Snoot, the very finest restaurant in all of Winslow! We have a table by the window that you would just love. There’s an excellent view of the manicured grounds of one of our golf courses, and a magik show in the foyer!”
“Not to mention the quartet of singing troubadours who will delight you with their dexterity on the strings,” the second one put in.
“So, which one of them uses the fourth . . . lute?” Aahz asked. He paused, as if waiting for applause. The two males looked at him blankly. “Forget it. Not interested. All I want is a sandwich and a beer.”
“I sense that you are a trifle discontented,” the first one said, with deep sympathy. “What can we do to make you fully content?”
“And happy?” the second added.
“You can shove off,” Markie said. Her tone did not discomfit the two males one bit.
“Of course! Please enjoy your lunch. And remember that you can make a reservation with Le Snoot just by shouting for your nearest attendant.” They went on to the next group.
Aahz rolled his eyes. A surly-looking barman came by with a tin bucket. He hoisted it onto our table. Some of the contents slopped over. The heady smell of hops slapped me in the face like an offended maiden. Aahz picked it up in both hands and glugged down half of it.
“Ahhh! That’s better,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s on the menu?” he asked the man.
“Usual,” the man said, curtly. “Yesterday’s leftovers.”
“Sounds good.”
The hefty woman behind the bar delivered the rest of our drinks with a scowl. I felt a wave of nostalgia, as if I were home again in Deva. She took her time returning with a huge tray containing trenchers of barely edible meat pies and unrecognizable vegetables, which she shoved in front of each of us. Bad attitude, terrible food, messy tables, with the noise of an ongoing brawl with breaking crockery in the background. I sighed with pleasure. Much better than the fancy food they had given us the night before, or the perfect breakfast with pastries that all looked like works of art. I felt myself relaxing.
A little. A pang of doubt kept interrupting my reverie.
“What’s on your mind, Skeeve?” Markie asked, picking a gray chunk of carrot out of her bowl. She flung it to Gleep, who snapped it up as if it tasted good.
“I can’t get away from the feeling that I’m missing something important,” I said.
“The part where they know everything going on everywhere in this dimension, or the weird part when they don’t?” Markie asked. “I’m used to the first one. It’s the second that throws me.”
“I agree,” Tananda said. “The perfection isn’t consistent. That’s not like them.”
“That’s it!” I said, dashing my fist into my palm. “They know what we’re doing. They always know. They’re letting us waste time looking all over the place. Maybe they’re even leaving clues for us to follow, although they never go anywhere. They’re keeping us distracted. Deliberately. They either can’t get the cup or won’t get it. They’re stalling. But we never notice it.”
“How do you know?” Bunny asked.
I turned to her, all the ideas in my mind rushing to my lips at once.
“Haven’t you noticed that whenever something starts to get serious, it’s defused almost immediately? This is how Winslow does what it does. Markie told me that from the moment we got here, but I forgot about it. Yesterday, I was feeling terrible about our experiences in Maire. I went into an inn deliberately to drown my sorrows.” The others kept their faces neutral, but I could tell they were dismayed at my admission, Bunny more so because she hadn’t been going to tell them. But in a way they looked relieved that I had told them the truth. “Suddenly, a bunch of Titans, who would have used me for a punching bag almost anywhere else, turn up and drag me into a drinking game. They fed me doctored liquor that made me feel good without making me drunk.”
Aahz slammed his fist down on the table, making our trenchers jump. “I’m going to find those Titans and take them all down,” he said.
“Gee, Aahz, don’t!” I said. “They helped me. When I woke up in the morning, the bad mood was gone. I’m all right now. Better than all right. And afterward, when you and I were starting to have an argument, Bunny . . .”
Far from being upset that that truth, too, was being aired, Bunny beamed with enlightenment.
“. . . A complete stranger came by to tell me how much she liked my manicure! Very clever.”
“They know what we’re going to do, or they have a pretty good idea. They manage our emotions. They find a way to make us feel better when we’re unhappy. When the direct approach doesn’t work, they use an indirect one.”
“I suppose I knew that all the time,” Tananda said. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No, not really,” I said. “It’s fine if you’re here for pleasure. But for us, it’s only wasting time. And money. Every day we spend here costs us a sack of gold pieces.” I knew that would appeal to Aahz’s sense of economy. In other words, his pernicious cheapness. He never let go of a coin without exhausting all the options of obtaining goods or services without spending one. “I’ll bet that they’re counting on us running out of time or money so we have to go home.”
His brows drew down.
“Are you trying to say they’re in collusion with Servis?” he demanded.
“Just the opposite. I think he’s in hiding. They’re unable to come up with the cup we requested, and they’re stalling us, hoping we will eventually go away. The satisfaction spell on this place keeps us calm and happy. Maybe you’ve noticed how hard it is to stay in a bad mood. You have to really concentrate to keep it going. It’s too nice here. Except when it isn’t.”
“I noticed that,” Bunny said. “I thought it was because we’ve been here too long. Something is going wrong with their system. We shouldn’t be feeling impatient.”
“They’re used to relying on that to keep troublemakers like us from overreacting,” Markie said. “It isn’t working. I wonder why?”
“I say, do you think it has something to do with the cup?” Chumley asked.
I shook my head. “The Loving Cup promotes accord, or so Looie says, but only between two people.”
“Could it be a side effect that no one talks about?” Tananda asked. “The cup might make those two people come to an agreement, but it causes general discord among everyone else? A lot of magik items work that way.”
“Then you’d think they can’t wait to get it out of this dimension,” Bunny said, reasonably.
“It doesn’t add up,” Aahz said. “Something else is going on, and it’s distracting the management. Take those two waiters from the snobby eatery. They’re out of place in here. This is a dive. If we were home in Deva, they’d become part of the wall décor. And the cheap Mardi Gras beads?
”
“I thought they were kind of nice,” Bunny said.
“Out of character,” Markie said.
“We’re being manipulated,” I said. “I’m tired of it.” I raised my eyes to the ceiling, where I imagined Earwigs or some other spies that reported to the management were concealed. “Stop trying to make me have fun!”
An enormous furry hand landed on my arm.
“Ware there!” bellowed the Troll.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
—D. GRAY
I scrabbled for a handful of magik, but I came up nearly empty. The repulsion spell I tried did absolutely nothing. The Troll advanced upon me, his huge yellow eyes almost glowing. His big furry body blocked out the lamplight. I prepared myself to fight. But what could my puny strength do against him without magik?
“Stop!” I cried, jumping off my stool and holding it up as a barrier between us. “I was just leaving. Don’t throw me again!”
The Troll did stop. He reached out and patted me gently on the shoulder.
“Don’t have to, old chap. I’m off duty.”
“You’re what?” I asked.
He reached into the fur over his heart and came out with a pair of golden spectacles, which he fixed over his eyes.
“Off duty, my dear fellow. My shift is over, but I heard your outcry.” His eyes twinkled. “You saw through my subterfuge the other day. I knew you knew what most everyone else does not about Trolls.” He laid a finger alongside his large purple nose. “But I thought that I would ask if there was anything I could do to help.”
“Uh, thanks, I think,” I said.
By this time, Chumley was on his feet. He moved to embrace the other Troll. I jumped hastily out of the way as the two massive bodies collided.
“Benjy!”
Benjy’s face creased with delight.
“Chumley, you old lint wad! Haven’t seen you for ages! What have you been doing?”
“Oh, this and that,” Chumley said modestly. “I believe that you’ve run into my partner and colleague, Skeeve?”
Benjy nodded. “Threw him into a table of Deveels, what?”
“You . . . you did that on purpose?” I asked. I slapped my own forehead. “Of course you did!” Like a fool, I had fallen into the trap that most people outside Trollia did. I had been brought up believing that Trolls were large, dangerous, and stupid. Only the first two characteristics were accurate. And I knew that; had known it for years. “Wait a moment, you said you’re off shift. You work here?”
“I do,” Benjy said. “Jolly good job, too. Seasonal, you know, but most rewarding.”
“Sit down and have a drink with us,” Chumley said. He picked up a heavy-duty stool and plunked it down near our table. “I would love to hear about it.”
Benjy glanced over his shoulder toward the counter, where the bartender was pulling a pitcher of beer.
“Can’t do it here, old thing. This is my station. Not permitted to break character in public. Come with me back to the employee’s canteen. We’ll have a good old chin-wag.”
Benjy led us to a blank section of wooden wall beyond the booths. He ran a finger down a flaw in the grain, and a section of wall opened up. I was astonished. I had no idea that a door was there. It was sealed by magik so subtle I hadn’t detected it on my last visit. I admit, though, that I had been focused on finding a cup, not a door.
Behind the door was a cupboard whose shelves were full of disreputable-looking rags that nevertheless had been washed, pressed, and folded. To the right, a flight of steps stretched upward in a narrow passage. The Troll mounted them, gesturing us to follow.
“Watch yourselves here,” Benjy said, his voice echoing dully. “The last step always takes one by surpri—”
His voice was cut off suddenly as he vanished. When his bulk no longer obstructed my view, I saw a ring of crackling blue fire at the top.
“Oh, I say!” Chumley exclaimed. “Come along, then.”
“I’m not going through that,” Aahz said.
“Nonsense,” Chumley said. “Benjy would never lead us awry. He was the captain of our cricket team at school.”
He pushed upward past us and disappeared through the flames. They roared up and danced at his passage.
“Ooh, fun!” Tananda said. “I love tunnel spells!” She ran up the steps and plunged in. The flames wiggled sensuously. It was my turn next.
“Is it dangerous?” I asked Haroon.
“Heck, no, son. Just means his room’s on the far edge of the resort. Saves a bunch o’ time reporting for his shift. C’mon.” The Canidian walked up and backed into the roaring flames. Instead of disappearing completely, he paused, his hindquarters now invisible. “See? Nothin’ to it!”
Aahz grumbled.
“I’m not going to be shown up by a hound dog,” he said. He took a running start and jumped over Haroon’s head. The flames engulfed him. I waited for a cry of pain, but none came. Bunny, Gleep, and I followed at a more cautious pace.
The flames tickled. My laugh echoed hollowly in the corridor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Nothing wrong with a little inside information.”
—G. GEKKO
When I stopped laughing, I had emerged into a brightly lit chamber. It was almost a perfect cube of white that rose higher than the gallery of the Rusty Hinge. Dozens of beings sat at long tables made of blue glass, eating, drinking, talking to one another or into palm-sized crystal balls, or reading scrolls and books. Few of them were actually Winslovaks. I recognized Titans, Trolls, Landsharks, Trollops, and the occasional Deveel, Imp, and Wyvern. Aahz must have been relieved that no Vampires were there. At the sight of so many strangers, Gleep snaked his neck in front of my legs, waving his head back and forth threateningly.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said, patting him on the head. He turned a wary glance up to me. “Are you feeling those eyes on you again?”
“Gleep!” he said in assent.
I leaned close.
“Keep an eye out, and let me know if you figure out where it’s coming from.”
“Gleep!”
Benjy gestured to me from a table with several empty seats. I slid onto the blue glass bench across from him. The seat was actually pretty comfortable. A magik carpet swooped over and lowered itself to my eye level. It was loaded with potables of every kind and trays of food.
“Do have anything you wish,” Benjy said, helping himself to a tray of dainty sandwiches and a teapot with a cup upside down over its spout. “We eat and drink well here.”
“So I see,” Chumley said, serving his sister before himself. With little finger cocked, he nibbled at a small finger sandwich.
“What’s this place?” I asked, taking a lizard-bird leg and a strawberry milk shake. Gleep snaked his head up to survey the carpet’s contents and seized a whole roast. He vanished under the table to eat it. I heard disgusting sounds of chomping and slurping near my feet. “Who are all of these people?”
“Guest workers,” Benjy explained, pouring tea for himself and Bunny. “Most of us are local color, imported for a season or two. We fulfill roles in many of the locales. The inns such as the Rusty Hinge are prime postings. We have a great deal of fun while we earn a rather tasty crust.”
“Wait, you mean that all of the card players in the inn were phony?” I asked.
Benjy smiled.
“Not at all. Usually there’s just one of us, possibly two there to get the action under way. The table serves as an introduction among guests. When one isn’t at home, sometimes one is reticent about asking to join a game in progress. It’s our responsibility to involve as many would-be players as we can. That is what I did when I invited you in.”
“Uh, you didn’t exactly give me a choice,” I said.
Benjy clicked his tongue.
“You were hovering near the ceiling among thousands of breakable drinking vessels, Mr. Skeeve, and you had already had a few potentially dangerous encounters with other guests. Management is passionate about making sure that our guests don’t hurt themselves.”
“So instead you threw him at a bunch of Deveels?” Tananda asked, grinning.
“They’re rotten cowards, Deveels are,” Benjy said, folding his hands complacently across his furry midsection. “Chances were slight that they would actually attack him. Sorry about that Titan, though. I failed to factor him into the reverse trajectory. He was a genuine guest, but he would not have been drinking in the Rusty Hinge if he did not enjoy the occasional random encounter. I must make certain assumptions about those who enter my ambit. My being the inept, bad-tempered player does allow our visitors to feel smug about outsmarting the big, furry fool. When I do explode in a tantrum, they experience a frisson from their brush with danger. All very safe, of course. No one is ever badly injured.”
“What a lot goes into your day!” Chumley said. “Sounds most enjoyable.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Benjy said, waving a hand. “What a relief it is to finish grading undergraduate term papers, then come here over the summer and throw people about! Stress-relieving, what?”
“Indeed,” Chumley said.
“Who’s this, Benjy?” asked a Landshark a few seats away, putting down a news scroll. “One of your fellow Trolls here for employee orientation?” He showed rows of sharp teeth not as impressive as Aahz’s but several times more numerous.
“Oh, Swush, old man! Swush, this is a schoolmate of mine, Chumley, his sister Tananda, and his companions.” He introduced each of us. “I say, Swush, what a brilliant idea! They’re always looking for more local color, Chumley. You ought to sign on. You have always had a reputation as a marvelous play-actor. The wages are rather good.”
Robert Asprin's Myth-Fits Page 18
