Class Dis-M.Y.T.H.ed

by Robert Asprin

  "Why, yes!" Jinetta said. "You're telling it very well. Go on."

  "Ma'am! We proceeded to the domicile inhabited by the Woof Writers, sir! Except it was also inhabited by fifteen other people, wearing really strange clothing…"

  "They said it was Klahth clobber," Melvine said. "I didn't see any clobber. They told me to look closely, then they clobbered me. It was a joke, get it? I mean, aren't these the most awesome threads you have ever seen?"

  "Identified ourselves as 'friends of Skeeve' to Subject One, Drachir, Woof Writer. They have impressive teeth, sir."

  "I know," I said.

  "We joined the gathering. At approximately +80 minutes into mission, Subject Two, Idnew, issued refreshments. They were unfamiliar, but we felt required to partake in order not to appear out of place. Sausage pizza, salad and cannoli, according to Freezia's interpretation."

  "I looked it up," the smallest Pervect giggled then hiccuped.

  "The additional people, who identified themselves as Klahths— I can give you a full list of their names if you want, sir!"

  "No, thanks," I said.

  "They ate the food with some difficulty. Thanks to your training, sir, we were able to consume the offered rations. I thought they tasted okay, sir."

  "Horrible!" Jinetta shuddered. "Crunchy leaves!"

  "Then they started daring each other to take a drink. Then they dared us. The beverage tasted like plain old whiskey to me, sir. It was no trouble to drink it, sir. It was pretty smooth."

  "Hundred-year-old, single malt Dragoncroft," Melvine said with a reminiscent smile on his face. "Can you believe it? They were chugging it down like rotgut. 'Course, some people don't know how to hold their liquor anyhow." He glared at the Pervects.

  "Tasted pretty good for non-Pervect liquor," Jinetta admitted. "Then they brought out the red stuff."

  "Blood?" I asked, blanching.

  "Er, no. They called it bug juice. I have to tell you, Skeeve, at home I never drink bugs, but this was very nice! I must start trying off-dimension food."

  "Me, too," Freezia put in.

  "Not of animal origin," Tolk assured me. "Plant. Fruit, really. Fermented. I made sure it was safe before I let anyone drink it."

  "I dunno why you said it was dangerous," Pologne said. The veins in her own orbs were bulging slightly. "Those are some of the nicest people I've ever met!"

  "They started a sing-along. Jinetta taught them our school fight song."

  "She charmed them," Freezia insisted. "They were nervous about strangers, but Jinetta made them feel as though they have known us all their lives. Tolk did, too. They never suspected we weren't Limboans."

  "Aooooo!" Tolk said, his nose raised toward the ceiling. "Aaa-cough cough! Boy, that's going to take some practice!"

  "What is?"

  The Canidian trotted in a circle around me. "The Woof Writers made me an honorary Werewolf. It was intense! All I have to do is to learn to howl properly. They said I'm awful but I could learn!"

  "They didn't mean you were really awful," Jinetta said. "They were just joking. Very helpful."

  "Until we asked for the object of our mission," Bee reminded her.

  "Oh, yeah—"

  "What was the problem?"

  "Well, sir, it took a while for me to be able to ask about the book. I got kind of interested in my surroundings—"

  "In that GIRL," Tolk teased him.

  "Er, yeah," Bee said, blushing. "She was, uh, a friendly neutral. I think maybe I had too much to drink, sir."

  Jinetta raised a finger. "I remembered about it. Idnew said she couldn't remember where she had put it. Drachir said we'd all hunt for it. It turned out we had been using it as a tray for the chips and dip. Well, as soon as I moved the food off of it, the Klahths grabbed it. I tried to get it back, but they started playing keep-away with it. Just like little children," she fumed. "So, I levitated it back to me. I'm afraid it frightened them."

  "Such a natural little action," Freezia said, "and they all stampeded to the far end of the room!"

  "I remembered that you said they don't do magik, so I laughed." She essayed a high chuckle. "Then I said it was a party trick. You do party tricks at parties, don't you?"

  "Drachir backed us up," Tolk said. "What a guy! What a guy!"

  "He didn't want a riot starting in his own house," I said drily.

  "So they all wanted to see it again," Jinetta continued. "They took back the book. I got very angry and stamped my foot. I went after the Klahth who had it. I'm afraid I threw some people around." She hiccuped. "I guess I'm stronger than I thought."

  "One of them went right through the window," Pologne added.

  "Then it got kinda complicated," Bee said.

  "A brawl," Melvine explained. "A real brawl. It was great. I kept the bottles and things from hitting the girls."

  "But you saved the day," Jinetta said, putting her arms around Bee. "We couldn't get near the person with our book, and time was running out. Then Bee thrust out his hands, and the book came FLYING back to us—with the Klahth still attached to it! I didn't know he could do anything like that. He hasn't been able to in all these weeks!"

  "I didn't know he could, either," I said in surprise.

  "I've been practicing, sir," Bee said, his face red. "Late at night, out in the stables. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, sir. Your dragon thought it was kind of fun to watch me. Last night I even levitated him. That was why the Klahth was no problem."

  I was speechless. So that was the source of the mysterious banging. Bee must have dropped a heavy object. I glanced at Gleep. My dragon gave me an infinitely innocent blue-eyed gaze then winked one eye at me.

  "I'm proud of you, Bee, especially for showing such initiative on your own. I'm proud of all of you!"

  "We've prepared a feast in your honor," Bunny said. "Come on in. We've been waiting for you."

  The Pervects looked pale. "Maybe just a few skyrerth on toast," Freezia said. "I don't think I could face much else."

  "Me, either," Bee said.

  They looked a little peaked at first, but the smell of good food revived their appetites. When we had all pushed our bowls away, I got up to make a speech. I'd been thinking all day about what to say, but I tossed all of my mental notes aside at the sight of the six of them talking and laughing together, the way they had when we returned from their first successful job.

  "First of all," I said, raising my wine glass, "here's to the first, and probably only, Myth-a-Technic University graduating class. You've all done better than I ever thought you could, especially with me as your teacher. I've only had one apprentice before, and I think she owes a lot more of her success to what she thinks she got out of me than what she really did. I believe you're the same. I have offered you the wisdom of my friends and colleagues, because that's what enabled me to get along in life. I couldn't make you take it or use it, but you have. And, I feel, you will use it to achieve great things in life. For that you deserve congratulations."

  "Yes," Melvine said, raising his own glass, "we do."

  "Hear, hear!" Pologne said, waving her glass.

  Bunny let out a shrill whistle of approbation.

  "Second, you came to me as individuals, but you have acted not only as individuals but as a cooperative team, and that was one of the keys to your success. You had someone to watch your back, and someone to accomplish the parts of the task that you couldn't. You can see from that interaction a little of what made me so happy with my friends in M.Y.T.H., Inc. I believe you can't beat a team. So, in your future endeavors, remember to 1) make friends, and 2) delegate."

  Down both sides of the table, I noticed odd looks being exchanged between Tolk, Melvine and the Pervects. Jinetta raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly at Melvine. Bee kept his eyes locked on me, a contented smile on his narrow, freckled face.

  "So, when you leave here tomorrow morning, I just want to tell you that I learned as much or more from having you here as you did from me. Thanks for an amazing e
xperience."

  I sat down to tumultuous applause. Jinetta rose and cleared her throat.

  "I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for all the trouble you've gone through for us, Skeeve and Bunny. Skeeve, you're a great teacher. Believe me. You gave us exactly what we needed, and made us take some necessary reality checks. You don't know how much it meant to all of us. I know I've enjoyed being here."

  "Me, too!" Freezia said. "It was worth every penny. More."

  Tolk stood up. "Thanks a million! To Skeeve. Wow wow wow!"

  The others raised their glasses. "Wow wow wow!" they chorused.

  Bunny smiled at them. "I'll be sorry to see you go," she said. "It's been nice to have company. Come back and visit us some time." She started to rise and picked up her bowl.

  "We'd be honored," Bee said. "Oh, don't get up, ma'am. I'll do the dishes."

  "We all will," Jinetta said.

  "Like I said," Bunny said to me, as the self-appointed cleanup committee hustled around us, "I'm going to miss them."

  In no time at all, the dining room was swept, wiped, and scrubbed. All of the dishes went back onto the shelves, and the leftovers were scraped into Gleep's bowl. My pet stuck his nose into it with a whiffle of pleasure.

  "If that's all we can do," Jinetta said, "then we're going to go up. Is that all right?"

  "Of course," I said, smiling. "You're graduates now."

  Gravely, the students each shook my hand.

  As they were heading for the stairs, Jinetta threw her arm over Bee's shoulders. "Come with me, kid. We need to talk."

  Chapter Twenty

  "Who thinks up this stuff?"

  E. Knievel

  I sat at my study table, ostensibly comparing the power capacity of two hunks of magikal crystal from Herkymer. It had been about a week since my students had left. The old inn was quiet again—too quiet. Bunny had taken a few days off to take Buttercup to a unicorn show, leaving me and Gleep to our own devices. Gleep, usually the most ebullient of pets, was depressed at the absence of his best friend, and sat at my feet emitting mournful sighs and the occasional whiff of stench. We were both grateful when they returned earlier this afternoon, Buttercup proudly showing off his medallion for Best War Animal. He and Gleep had charged off into the woods to play. Bunny entertained herself quietly in her sitting room. Having been by myself for several days I was ready to hear all about her trip, but she had forestalled me with an upraised hand.

  "Now, don't pay any attention to me, Skeeve," she chirped brightly. "Don't stop your research just because I came home. I brought back a stack of new magazines to read. Just pretend I'm still not here."

  After the enforced silence, that was impossible. I found myself glancing up at any little noise, just to have a distraction from the silence. It surprised me how much I missed the class. Or, maybe, I was more sociable than I thought I was. Living like a hermit was not my natural habit and, as soon as I felt more like a master magician than a faker, I'd be back in the thick of things in a blink.

  A trill of birdsong brought my attention away from the blue chunk. I had to stop that. Mastering complex magik required concentration, and the best concentration was found in silence. It was one of the reasons that old Garkin had his cottage way out in the woods—that and the penury that often accompanies sincere magikal study. I was enough of a realist to know I was more than fortunate being able to take a sabbatical with a full strongbox. I wouldn't have to scratch, as my old master had, to buy thurifers and censers and candles and all of the paraphernalia that magicians surrounded themselves to assist in their studies. Most of it was unnecessary window dressing, to impress a client. Consecrated salt? I had a barrelful. Rare incense? You name it, I had it. Still another percentage of items only served as another focus for concentration, such as gazing crystals and magik mirrors. The remainder was genuinely useful for certain kinds of magik, storing power or focusing it in some way that might not come naturally to a practitioner, or for use by a non-magician. I had a crate full of such gizmos. Each of them had been fun for a while, but I had put them aside in search of processes I could evoke rather than invoke.

  For a moment I was ashamed of the remarkable plenty I enjoyed. Maybe, when I decided to rejoin civilization, I'd endow a scholarship to help poor magicians get a start in their studies. If they couldn't make it after learning the basics, they were on their own.

  The bird sang again, its voice echoing in the emptiness. Maybe I should take up bull-wrestling, or foster a houseful of banshees, just to raise the sound level a little. Or maybe I should start a game show.

  In the study next door, Bunny had hooked into the Crystal Network again. Voices and music made me strain to hear. In the midst of it all I heard a BAMF!

  "Tananda! You made it!"

  "Hey, Bunny! I brought popcorn. When's it get started?"

  "Soon! Let me pour you some wine."

  "Hi, Bunny," a little voice said. I recognized it as belonging to Markie.

  I heard a clunk as the wine carafe rang against something solid. Tananda's voice rang, too, with outrage. "What is SHE doing here?"

  I stood up, wondering if I should charge out there and get between them. I didn't have to worry. Markie could take care of herself.

  "She's—not so bad, Tanda," Bunny said slowly. "She was ready to jump in and help Skeeve out a few weeks ago. It turned out he didn't need her, but I thought it was pretty nice of her to offer."

  "Well—that's different from the way she was before."

  "She's trying to be different. I'm trying to—accept it."

  "I brought some wine," Markie added eagerly. "It's just a little 'thank you' for letting my nephew stay on here. You can't believe the difference it made in him. I'm sure you will like it. Chateau Cupido, extra sec, from my aunt's vineyard."

  "I'm not saying that would make everything all right," Tanda said, but her voice started losing that constricted quality.

  "No," Markie replied. "I'm not asking for that. Just give me a chance."

  "Well, sit down, I suppose. Do you do any crystal-gazing?" Tanda asked.

  "When I get a chance. You mean you're a fan, too?"

  "Do chocolate bunnies get their ears bitten off? You bet!"

  Bunny became positively expansive. "I love it. It's really opened up the world to me, you know? And I've gotten to know so many other people through the ether. Oh, look. It's about to start!"

  "Did you see the first three episodes?" Tanda asked.

  "Oh, yes!" Bunny said. "Everyone at the unicorn show was a big fan. We spent hours watching!"

  I moaned to myself. Crystal-gazing fans. Now they were going to talk about one of their programs until the trivia bled out of my ears.

  "Where's Skeeve?" Markie asked.

  "Studying," Bunny said. I heard the glug of liquid. "He'll come out later."

  Guiltily, I bent over my table to try to make her easy assurance ring true. The three of them laughed and chattered. I peered at my crystals. The pink one held more energy than the blue one, but didn't retain it as long. Would it be possible to transfer power from the pink one to the blue one? Treating the crystal as if it was a force line, I drew on the pink power. It began to fill my inner 'battery.' So far so good. Now, I tried transferring it to the blue crystal. It grew hot. I dropped it on the table and began to rethink my approach. Pernadairy's Treatise on Magikal Crystals listed eighteen different means of releasing power from natural prisms, and only the three messiest made any reference to heat.

  A series of crackles, pops and snaps erupted in the next room while Tanda and Bunny sought the connection in the ether they wanted.

  Bytina, the little red PDA, was almost as good as a real crystal ball, but being a philosophical device more than a magikal one, she had odd problems of her own. The way she used power tended to build up a static-like charge that attracted nuisance emissions, insubstantial images, which infiltrated the house and appeared suddenly out of closets or other unexpected places. I saw a Troll carrying a s
word pop up out of my clothing trunk one day. I nearly blasted my own wardrobe apart until I realized it was just an advertisement for a collectible weapons dealer. Tanda had showed me how to deal with commercial interruptions so I could dispell them for Bunny, but since Tanda was here, she could banish them herself.

  A sepulcheral voice boomed throughout the inn. "THIS is Sink or Swim: Perv. "

  Peppy theme music started playing, resonating in my crystals. The blue one started glowing, making the skin on my hands lose its normal hue. I got interested in the phenomenon and stopped listening. Sink or Swim like all the remotely-viewed contests only held my interest in a marginal way. I found it hard to work up enthusiasm without being there. SOS was no sillier than any other game.

  At the beginning of each show the relentlessly cheerful announcer, Schlein, arrived in a puff of smoke. He would recap the previous day's exploits and explain the concept anew for the audience. The rules were arbitrary but ironclad. Only amateur magicians could enter, meaning that they could never in their lives have accepted pay for performing a spell. Schlein always followed that rule up with "It's not too late to go back in time and return that quarter to your Grandpa, kids!" Which was met by hysterical laughter by the studio audience. No weapons except those allowed in the rule book, which Schliney always showed was empty. (Earning another big laugh from the viewers.) In fact, the contestants had to go into this contest practically naked. Pretty tough for a contest where the prize was survival itself. Some of the tasks the contestants were set were so dangerous no one but a complete fool would even consider undertaking them. It was stupid. I had no stake in it. No interest. I forced myself to concentrate on what I was doing.

  The music ended and a deep, friendly voice spoke.

  "This is Sink or Swim! And now, the host with the most, the one, the only—heeeere's Schleiny!"

  bamf!

  I didn't have to see it to know that Schlein, a handsome male from Sittacom, had emerged from his puff of theatrical smoke. He had a habit of rubbing his hands together like a predatory insect which, apart from the green skin and antennae, he did not otherwise resemble. As spotlights swung to and fro over his head, he began his traditional introduction.