Myth Alliances

by Robert Asprin

  In the face of her obvious delight I didn't make the gagging sound that the fulsome dedication evoked from me. "That's really nice," I offered. I know my voice sounded a little lame, but Bunny didn't seem to notice.

  Wensley turned the book over to reveal a portrait of the author, a little gray man with huge eyes, a thin mouth, a small turned-up nose, delicate little ears, and fine, wavy black hair. I recognized him as a denizen of Kobol, a dimension that had produced notable mathematicians and a technical profession that Aahz called "come pewter programmers." Kobolds were known to be very complex thinkers, far ahead of their time. I thought they looked like embryos, except for their coloration. Bunny kept talking about meeting him, the words tumbling out like water going over rapids.

  "… And he's studied the people in hundreds of dimensions. He knows all about every one of them, Gnomes, Imps…"

  "Pervects?" I said, a thought suddenly striking me.

  "Yes, of course," Bunny said, halting in mid-flow. "I'm sure he mentioned them. Why?"

  "We need an expert," I said. "Maybe we can talk to him."

  "That's a wonderful idea!" Bunny beamed at me. "I'll see if we can take him to lunch!"

  With that, she dived back into the fray.

  Another twenty or thirty minutes went by, but after the crowd thinned out, Bunny emerged from the book tent with the author in her grasp. The little gray man's head only came to the middle of her ear, but she held on to his arm as though he was the most important man in her uncle's entourage. (Bunny had been brought up to be a moll, but she was wasted in that, er, position.) She performed introductions with the air of a magician presenting her very best illusion. The author's eyes widened as she spoke my name.

  "Skeeve the Magnificent," Zol Icty said, holding out a long, narrow hand to me. "My, my, I've heard so much about you. And I must say that you live up to my expectations."

  I wasn't wearing the terrifying illusion that I normally did when seeing clients, so all he saw was the blond youth whose face I shaved every day. "What do you mean?"

  "I've heard you're a man of compassion and thoroughness," the Kobold said, beaming up at me. "I can just see the generous nature glowing from every pore. I am honored to be in your presence." I was torn between wanting to throw up and feeling infinitely flattered. Aahz never noticed my compassion or thoroughness. Most of the time he was upset that I didn't grab everything on the table when my opponents were at a loss. "So what can I do for you?"

  Chapter Three

  "Let's take this show on the road!"

  —M. ROONEY

  I tried to live up to the reputation Zol insisted I had while I outlined our mission over lunch.

  We were in a private booth in a very small, dimly lit diner I knew, at some distance from the bookstore, but it was still difficult to have a private conversation. Hundreds of people, one after another, came up to our table with a book held out and a simpering expression on his or her face. Because I was supposed to be compassionate, I tried to hold my temper at each interruption, though it got more and more difficult when I could only squeeze out three or four words before the next one came.

  With my position in the Bazaar I could usually depend on a maitre d' to fend off intruders while I dined, but even he, a Deveel in his middle years, was starstruck at the sight of our guest, and did nothing to prevent the crowd of passionate Zol Icty fans from getting in the way of the service of our drinks and food, and of my narrative flow.

  The Kobold blinked up wryly at me from the book he was signing for a Gnomish woman whose blue face was flushed a becoming sapphire at the sight of her idol. "You've been very patient, Master Skeeve," he assured me, "but you needn't worry. This is the last one. I only sold 8,736 copies today, and including this, I have now signed them all."

  I gawked at him.

  "You counted all of them? You kept track?"

  He shrugged modestly. "Second nature for a Kobold. It's said we have a mathematical bent that inclines at a perfect 90 degree angle. Now, if you would be so kind, pour me some tea, and let's talk about your problem."

  Impressed at last, I complied.

  "Pervects," he mused, sipping from his cup of tea. "Pervects are very interesting. They have every advantage, coming from a dimension that uses both magik and technology with equal ease. Their physical attributes are such that they are saved from harm in circumstances that would kill weaker beings. Their skin is natural armor, their teeth and claws formidable weapons, yet their species evolved superior intelligence. They have so much confidence in their own expertise that it's difficult to prevent one from carrying out his or her plans."

  I met Wensley's eyes and nodded. (Bunny was still staring at our guest, though I could tell she really was listening.) "That sounds like the ones I know," I said.

  "The key here is secrecy. Don't ever tell a Pervect what you want from him, or he'll do his best to thwart you. You can't expect someone with that kind of intelligence and ego to go along with the wishes of a lesser species, and in their view, we are all lesser species."

  "That's what I was afraid of," Wensley droned sadly. "We tried to tell them to go, but they wouldn't."

  "You were not speaking from a position of strength, Master Wensley," Zol admonished him. "With Pervects you must dictate."

  Lots of luck, I thought. "I'd like to lay out my plans before you, Master Zol," I began. "Ten Pervects is an army.

  We can't force them out by strength, because as you point out, any one of them could tear us apart. We can't use threats, same reason. Blackmail would backfire on us, and besides, it's too dirty a scheme for me. It looks like the only thing we can do is see if we can find out what they're afraid of and scare them away. I know Pervects don't frighten easily, but even they must fear something. Or maybe we could trick them into leaving and not coming back, convince them there's a plague in the kingdom or something. I hope you can give us some advice on what we could use to pry them loose."

  The Kobold regarded me solemnly. "Once you have that information do you intend to put these plans into practical use?"

  "Well, that's my intention," I asserted. "I promised Wensley here that I would try to free him and his people."

  "That's one of the finest things about Klahds," Zol observed cheerfully. "They always want to do the right thing. My advice is to dive right in. Let your intentions be your guide." In my zeal I rose to my feet. Bunny put her hand on my arm and pulled me down to the bench again.

  "We'd like some specific guidelines," she enunciated, pointedly. "How can a Klahd and some Wuhses oust a party of determined Pervects?"

  "Why, with the help of an experienced Kobold," he replied, patting her on the hand with his thin gray fingers. "I've gotten so interested listening to you that I simply must come along."

  I glanced at Wensley, who was looking hopeful but forlorn. "I doubt that Pareley would be able to afford your fees, sir."

  "My fees?" he echoed jovially, blinking his huge eyes at me. "The only fee I'd charge is being right in the thick of things. This is an opportunity I can't afford to squander. Call it research. You can pay my expenses, that's all. Travel, housing, entertainment…" He started to tick them off on his long fingers.

  I saw stacks of coins begin to mount up in my imagination. My dubiousness must have showed on my face. The little man laughed and patted my arm. "I don't eat much, I can sleep anywhere, and I find entertainment in almost everything. Don't worry. We'll get this job done. You'll see."

  I began to like him in spite of myself. "I want to enlist a few more of my associates," I added.

  "If you'll listen to me," Zol insisted, pouring himself another cup of tea, "they'll be female. Set a thief to catch a thief, I always say."

  "Not a thief," I corrected him with a smile. "An Assassin."

  Tananda was in our tent packing a bag when we arrived.

  "I'm just on my way out the door," she declared, glancing up. "I'm going to visit my mother on Trollia. Chumley's already there. Mums decided she wanted to change all the
wallpaper in the house, and you know how she is when she makes up her mind. She has a list of home improvements she wants him to do. The next thing you know she'll want him to pull up the floors and lay terrazzo instead of the flagstone that she had him put down last time. I've got to go and act as a buffer between them. He just can't say no to her even if she has a bad idea. As long as I'm in between jobs."

  I had never met the elder Trollop who was the mother of two of my most trusted and intelligent companions. If Tananda was anything like her, she must be a formidable woman.

  I was dismayed. "I would like to hire you for this assignment," I explained.

  "Is Aahz coming, too?" she asked, tilting her head at me curiously.

  "Uh, no," I mumbled. Resolutely, she picked up a stack of lace underthings to put them in her bag: tiny brief panties of wispy black or emerald green, brassieres whose rounded confines would hold Tananda's marvelous curves gently but still allow that bewitching jiggle… For a moment I stood fascinated, staring, but I forced my attention back to Tananda's eyes. "He's… er… busy."

  Tananda nodded. "He said he wouldn't do it."

  I had to admit she was right. "Uh, no. But we've got another expert to help us. He is sure he can help us think our way around the Pervect Ten's defenses. May I introduce you to Zol Icty?"

  I presented the Kobold, who came to wrap his hands around hers warmly. "Mistress Tananda! What a happy moment for me to meet such a lovely Trollop as yourself!"

  "I wondered if that was you," Tananda cooed, cuddling up to the author in the more than friendly way she had. "Call me Tanda."

  Trollops, I didn't need Zol to tell me, believed in close physical contact, even when meeting someone for the first time. The Kobold seemed to relish it.

  "I'd heard you were in the Bazaar today, but I didn't want to risk the crowds. I'm delighted to meet you. I enjoy your books."

  "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," Zol mumbled from the depths of a first-class embrace.

  Tananda released him and turned to me. "I'm not crazy about what you're trying to do, but I trust you. Chumley will just have to fend for himself with Mums. Terrazzo floors will look pretty."

  "Good." I sighed with relief. "Now to sign up a few of the others."

  Even the presence of Zol Icty didn't assuage the fears of my other former associates. I next approached the pair of enforcers who'd been muscle for M.Y.T.H. Inc., and now had sole charge of the Mob's interests in the Bazaar.

  They'd taken over our office space in the former Even Odds gambling club. Guido, a huge man who dressed in dapper zoot suits with big shoulders and wide lapels, the better to conceal the pocket crossbow that he carried just inside his jacket, regarded me with a mixture of disbelief and sympathy.

  "With all due respect, Boss," Guido imparted, "I don't feel safe tanglin' with no Pervect females. I know Pookie and I know Aahz, and I'm glad they're on our side—and I know which one o' them I'd rather have mad at me. I'd stand a chance at survivin' Aahz."

  "I must also tender my polite regrets." Nunzio, Guido's cousin, a slightly smaller but no less formidable ally, was equally adamant. He also dressed in dapper zoot suits, and was just as heavily armed. "We can lend you armaments, but it would be impolitic, if not impossible, for us to participate in your enterprise. Even if we were still seconded to your command, Don Bruce would say 'No' to this one. He does not tangle with Perverts if he can help it. Still, we would not want anythin' to happen to you, so if you insisted we would accompany you in spite of our orders." When I said nothing, he sighed. "We wish you the best of luck."

  I returned to our tent and looked at my small army, much smaller than I'd hoped, and frowned. "Maybe we can recruit on Amazonia," I suggested.

  "Nonsense!" Zol exclaimed heartily. "A Trollop, an intelligent maiden and a Klahd—between you you have experience, ingenuity and leadership that will far exceed your needs. Add to that the malleability of the Wuhses and my own expertise, and you have nothing to fear!"

  I'd been in the adventure business far too long to take a comment like that at face value, but I did know the skills of my two companions. If it was a simple matter of figuring out the weaknesses of a given group, an Assassin and an accountant might well be all I needed. Besides, Tananda and Bunny were watching me carefully. I didn't want to let them down by showing them I didn't have faith in them.

  "Surveillance first," I asserted, firmly. "Let's find out just how their operation is structured, and see if we can figure out their plans before we make a move of their own."

  Bunny smiled. I'd said the right thing.

  "Surveillance," Tananda mused. "Where are they based, Wensley?"

  "Oh, in the castle," the Wuhs informed her. "The prince wasn't using it. He prefers to live in the suburbs, and it's just too centrally located. It's very sturdy, he said. Stone walls and tiled ceilings with big heavy beams. Very protective. We Wuhses like protective buildings."

  "Good," stated Tananda.

  "Good?" I echoed. "It's not like they're out in a field somewhere, where it would be easy to hear what they're saying."

  She gave me an amused look. "That would make it impossible to eavesdrop on them. Have you ever tried to sneak up on someone in the middle of a field?"

  "Of course not," I replied indignantly. "They'd see you coming for miles… oh."

  "Exactly, exactly," Zol beamed. "See? You're already building on one another's strengths. So the Pervect Ten feel very secure and certain no one will sneak up on them. It should be a simple matter to find a good listening post and learn all."

  Chapter Four

  "One's biggest problems are almost always of one's own making."

  V. FRANKENSTEIN, MD

  "Run those figures again for me, Caitlin, darling," asked the elderly Pervect in the flowered dress. She tapped the side of the console with her cane.

  "Don't do that, Vergetta," snapped the very young female at the keyboard. She turned deepset amber eyes at her senior. "It upsets the gremlins in the motherboard."

  "Well, they need waking up, if those are the answers you're giving to me," Vergetta remarked peevishly. "They shouldn't talk this way to anyone's mother. This is a wrong answer. It has to be."

  "I think she's right," declared Oshleen, a tall, willowy Pervect, sashaying into the room with a slighter, shorter compatriot in her wake. She waited for the skirts of her floor-length silk gown to settle around her manicured feet. "I've done the calculations myself, and Tenobia has checked the store rooms. About ten percent of the treasury is gone."

  "Again?" Vergetta roared. She slammed a hand down on the console, earning a glare from Caitlin. "What is it with these Wuhses?"

  "I told you you ought to let me confiscate that D-hopper," sneered the narrow-eyed Pervect in black, who was filing her claws to razor points in the corner of the room.

  Vergetta turned to her patiently. "It's a toy, Loorna. It gives them pleasure."

  Loorna sprang up, her long yellow fangs bared. "Every time they use that toy they end up spending money! Money they don't have! Money we don't have. They're such idiots."

  "They're Wuhses, what do you expect? They're going to pull business acumen out of the ground?"

  "If they'd dig up some self-control, then I'd set every one of them up with shovels and tell them to get to it. As it is, if you yell at one of them, he folds up and points at everybody but himself."

  "If I could get my hands on the Deveel who sold them that D-hopper I'd park it under his pointed tail," Tenobia growled. "I've tried to get them to put it back in the treasury and sign it out when they want to use it, but no. They don't want to let us hold it for them. We might not give it back, and that's 'uncooperative and unfriendly'. So it gets passed secretly from hand to hand, never in the same place for five minutes. If we don't control it, we can't tell them where they can and can't go. And they do: they flit off to any dimension that takes their fancy. And every time they go off they come back with a souvenir. Every single time. So suddenly everyone has to have one of the
new gizmos, and we have a flood of imports. Then, because this stuff isn't free, they raid the treasury to pay for it. No one ever asks—they're not assertive enough for that. So they sneak it out. Every single one of them feels entitled to spend some of the money. No one has ever had the backbone to take all of it, but they might as well. The trouble is that they don't check, in case someone says no. Like us."

  "We made a mistake telling them we were close to solving their problem," Oshleen sighed, polishing her nails on her sleeve. 'They think the money shortage is over."

  "It's not over!" Caitlin snapped. "I keep a spreadsheet going of input and output."

  "I know that," Oshleen retorted. "I recalculate the balances every day, too, you know."

  "On paper!"

  "And if your gremlins stop working, what record do you have? Nothing!"

  "Girls, girls," Vergetta chided them. "Enough!"

  "It's natural to be interested in new things," Nedira interjected, soothingly. "They're curious. They like toys."

  "It's not the toys that are the problem," Tenobia insisted. "It's paying for them. They don't sell their used toys when the novelty's worn off. They just accumulate them, and think that the money's going to fall out off a tree."

  Paldine drummed her fingertips on her lip. "If we could only head off the trend before it catches on kingdomwide, we could control the flow and make a percentage on the value. Not to mention making sure they're not being cheated. As it is, they always pay too much, then they can't admit it. Sooner or later one of them sneaks in with the janitors and abstracts the coins when we're not looking. I told you we should have put a wyvern in the treasury."

  "So they're not so good at personal responsibility either," Vergetta shrugged. "That's why they hired us."

  "They need keepers, not financial managers," Loorna countered. "Shepherds, that's what, and maybe a bunch of border collies. Yes, that's it. Put them all in pens until we're finished straightening them out."

  "If they would just have let us do our job," Oshleen drawled, bored with the never-ending arguments, "we could have been out of here six months ago. They're making it impossible. Paldine should never have agreed to a milestone-based contract, especially one that prevents us from taking any other consulting contracts in the meantime. It should have been strictly time-based."