Praise for Robert Asprin’s MYTH series
“Stuffed with rowdy fun.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer
“Give yourself the pleasure of working through the series. But not all at once; you’ll wear out your funny bone.”
—The Washington Times
“Hysterically funny.”
—Analog
“Breezy, pun-filled fantasy in the vein of Piers Anthony’s Xanth series . . . a hilarious bit of froth and frolic.”
—Library Journal
“Asprin’s major achievement as a writer—brisk pacing, wit, and a keen satirical eye.”
—Booklist
“An excellent, lighthearted fantasy series.”
—Epic Illustrated
“Tension getting to you? Take an Asprin! . . . His humor is broad and grows out of the fantasy world or dimensions in which his characters operate.”
—Fantasy Review
Praise for
Dragons Deal
“Another enjoyable addition to the saga of the McCandles family.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Dragons Luck
“Joyous fantasy with continuous action and a creative cast of characters.”
—SFRevu
Dragons Wild
“Asprin tackles a new kind of comic fantasy, a little more serious and hard-boiled than previous books. Featuring a likable rake and plenty of action and quirky humor, this series opener belongs in most adult and YA fantasy collections.”
—Library Journal
“Colorful.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Delightful.”
—Monsters and Critics
The MYTH Series
by Robert Asprin
ANOTHER FINE MYTH
MYTH CONCEPTIONS
MYTH DIRECTIONS
HIT OR MYTH
MYTH-ING PERSONS
LITTLE MYTH MARKER
M.Y.T.H. INC. LINK
MYTH-NOMERS AND IM-PERVECTIONS
M.Y.T.H. INC. IN ACTION
SWEET MYTH-TERY OF LIFE
MYTH-ION IMPROBABLE
SOMETHING M.Y.T.H. INC.
by Robert Asprin and Jody Lynn Nye
MYTH ALLIANCES
MYTH-TAKEN IDENTITY
MYTH-TOLD TALES
CLASS DIS-MYTHED
MYTH-GOTTEN GAINS
MYTH-CHIEF
MYTH-FORTUNES
by Jody Lynn Nye
ROBERT ASPRIN’S MYTH-QUOTED
The DRAGONS WILD Series
by Robert Asprin
DRAGONS WILD
DRAGONS LUCK
by Robert Asprin and Jody Lynn Nye
DRAGONS DEAL
ALSO BY ROBERT ASPRIN
The PHULE’S COMPANY Series
PHULE’S COMPANY
PHULE’S PARADISE
with Peter J. Heck
A PHULE AND HIS MONEY
PHULE ME TWICE
NO PHULE LIKE AN OLD PHULE
PHULE’S ERRAND
ROBERT ASPRIN’S
MYTH-QUOTED
JODY LYNN NYE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books, Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North 2193, South Africa • Penguin China, B7 Jaiming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North, Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2012 by Bill Fawcett & Associates Inc.
Cover art by Walter Velez.
Cover design by Sarah Oberrender.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ACE and the “A” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Ace trade paperback edition / December 2012
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Nye, Jody Lynn, 1957–
Robert Asprin’s Myth-quoted / Jody Lynn Nye.—Ace trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-425-25701-2 (alk. paper)
ISBN 978-1-101-61358-0 (eBook)
I. Title. II. Title: Myth-quoted.
PS3564.Y415R63 2012
813'.54—dc23
2012026173
To the loving memory of Anne McCaffrey, great writer, friend, and mentor. We already miss you, missus.
Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
“No, there’s no extra penalty for wrong answers.”
—M. DE TORQUEMADA
They all came at me at once, eyes gleaming, teeth bared. I braced myself, one lone, tall, young, skinny Klahd with blond hair and blue eyes surrounded by hostile beings of many colors, shapes, and sizes, bearing weapons of extreme discomfort, all bent on taking me apart.
“Mr. Skeeve, Mr. Skeeve!” the first one cried. She was a fuchsia-faced Imp woman dressed in an eye-piercing yellow jumpsuit. She shoved a stick with a metal mesh folded over
its top into my face. It smelled of perfume. “What do you think of the Magik Reform Legislation? Don’t you think it unfairly favors M.Y.T.H., Inc., over other practitioners?”
“Uh, no comment,” I rejoined.
“Is it true you sleep with a teddy bear?” a huge, pale-faced Ghoul with a heavy jaw demanded, leaning eagerly over his notepad. “How about underwear? Boxers, briefs, or loincloth?”
“The teddy bear doesn’t wear any,” I said, thankful for a question I could answer. “But I’m just taking care of him for a friend. He has his own bed.”
I had more to deal with than just questions. Foot-high bipeds with pale green skin and dressed in wisps of black silk bounded around me, smacking me in the legs with the hard edge of their tiny hands. Ouch! I danced in pain. The Injas shrieked triumph. I winced. The reporters moved in again. A Werewolf with glowing red eyes aimed a pencil at me.
“What’s the source of your magik? Is it true you stole it from the treasury in Possiltum?”
The very absurdity of the question threw me off. I backed away. A huge hand landed on my shoulder and spun me halfway around. I gawked up at a stone-faced Gargoyle hefting a hammer in his free claw. He swung it at my head—where my head might have been if I had hesitated an instant. The wind from it whistled past my nose. Summoning magik from a force line beneath the floor, I pushed off from the ground with my mind and fled up toward the ceiling—where five giant spiders had woven an immense web in the shape of a pentacle. The glowing, sticky fibers seemed to reach for me. At my approach, the spiders scuttled along the incredibly narrow threads in my direction. I recoiled. My skin crawled faster than the webspinners. I hate spiders.
I did a back flip and fled down to the floor, where the reporters converged on me again. The Injas did another number on my legs. A shapely female Whelf with long golden hair framing her pointed ears loomed over me.
“What about the upcoming audit of the M.Y.T.H., Inc., ledgers?” she demanded. “What are you trying to cover up? What about this Bunny person? Is it true she is connected to Don Bruce?”
“What audit?” I squeaked, flinching. My voice tends to reach into the upper registers when I’m caught off guard. The Injas unsheathed twin blades crossed on their backs with overhand strokes and came at me, shrilling sharp war cries. I kicked them away. They tumbled in a heap, but were on their feet again in a moment.
The Gargoyle waded in among the reporters, swinging the war hammer. I ducked. My hair stirred as the metal block just missed me. The Gargoyle panted, his eyes red with fury.
“Don’t deny it, Mr. Skeeve,” the Whelf woman said severely, pursuing me even as I scrambled backward away from my giant attacker. The Injas kicked me in the shins. “All that gold had to go somewhere.”
“No comment!” I bellowed.
Suddenly one of the huge spiders dropped down between us on a strand of glowing blue. The beast’s body was at least as long as I was tall. Well-trained reflexes took over. I struck a pose and held up my palm. Flames licked up from my fingers. I thrust them toward the dangling monster. It flinched but didn’t retreat.
Instead, the spider stretched out its two front legs to me. I gagged and recoiled at the sight of the bow-shaped claws. Then I noticed that between the claws was a bundle of pink the size of my fist. A baby spider looked up at me with its multiple-faceted eyes glowing with innocence. One small claw held a knitted toy fly. I glanced at the adult spider’s face. Its own eyes wore an expression of fear, not hostility. I gawked. The flames in my hand died away.
“You want me to protect her?” I asked. The big spider nodded. My stomach turned.
“I can’t . . .”
The urgency in the creature’s face turned to desperation. I’m not sure how I could distinguish that on such an un-Klahd-like face, but I did.
“. . . think of anything else I’d rather do,” I finished. I gulped. Beating down the revulsion I felt in every muscle of my body, I put out a hand for the small arachnid.
Ugh! It felt just as horrible as I thought it would. The pointy little feet trailed strands of silk across my palm. It reminded me of nightmares I had had of being trapped in a giant web. The mother zipped up the line into the rafters, leaving me with the baby. The reporters crowded close, some holding up cameras so the Shutterbugs inside could draw pictures of us.
WHAM! Something heavy struck me in the back, sending me flying into the nearest wall. I had forgotten about the Gargoyle! It hefted its hammer again and came toward me. My back felt like one big bruise, but I pushed myself up off the ground.
Intently aware that I must not close my hand on the infant spider and crush her, I regathered my handful of flame. The Gargoyle swung. I threw a fireball at it. The Gargoyle batted it into the crowd of journalists. The Ghoul reached up and caught the ball in his bony hand. He closed his fingers, and the fire snuffed out. The Gargoyle started swinging at me again. I cradled my unwanted charge against my chest and flung myself backward, ducking every blow. I threw more firepower at my opponent, but he countered every measure. Gargoyles might have been primitive as far as dress and choice of weapons went, but they could handle magik far better than a Klahd like me. The press crowded around the two of us, clamoring for an exclusive interview with us.
Or with the Gargoyle, anyhow. As the mass of bodies engulfed us, I ducked down and crawled on my three free limbs along the floor and darted beneath the Gargoyle’s stony legs. By the time the puzzled Gargoyle noticed I was missing, I was sitting on top of a rafter, hands behind my head, letting the baby spider take a walk along the rim of the iron chandelier.
The reporters looked around, then up.
“Mr. Skeeve, you don’t get away from us this easy!” the Imp woman shouted. “Give us at least one good reason why you shouldn’t be prosecuted for stealing an entire army.”
“Sorry, no comment,” I called down to her.
“But the audit . . . ?” She tried to levitate to my level. I put out a hand and pressed down. The magik force knocked her to the floor.
“No comment,” I repeated. She scrambled up and tried to climb the air again.
“Awright, you slackers,” Aahz growled, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. At least one of the “reporters” jumped with surprise. You would, too, if a Pervect with green-scaled skin, yellow eyes, bat-winged ears, and a mouthful of four-inch fangs popped into the room. Aahz is several inches shorter than I am, and a dozen times more impressive. “You blew it. Take a walk.”
“Awww, Aahz,” the Whelf moaned. Her fine head drooped. I felt sorry for her.
“C’mon, Aahz, just one more round,” the Gargoyle said, resting his mace on his shoulder, his doglike face creased with disappointment. “I was gaining on him!”
“Harvey, that was the most pathetic onslaught I ever saw!” Aahz said. “You only connected with him once. Collect your fee from Guido before I change my mind about paying you.”
“You try a decent melee with Injas bouncing around your feet,” Harvey grumbled, but he headed for the door. The little creatures filed out behind him, calling insulting gibes at the large beast. The “reporters,” all actors from various dimensions, put their gear away. The Imp woman smiled up at me.
“You sure know how to avoid a question,” she said. “I might ask you for some pointers some time. For when I do interviews after a play.”
“Sure, Babe,” I said, “but Aahz is the one who taught me how to deal with the press.”
She looked at Aahz hopefully, but he shook his head.
“Another time, Babe,” he said. “We’ve got a meeting.”
Something touched my arm. I turned. A pair of enormous, faceted eyes were inches from my own.
“Aagh!” I jumped away from the giant spider, who was hanging upside down beside me. “What do you want?”
“You gonna give Katinka back to Rosalie, or do you plan to keep her?” Aahz said. He grinned. “You gotta get over that thing of yours with spiders.”
“I’m okay,” I said, scowling. “She just st
artled me. My mind was somewhere else.”
“It was in Arachnophobialand,” Aahz said. “Move it. Bunny wants us to meet her three o’clock client.”
I thought about using magik to pluck the small creature from her romps on the lamp fixture, but the gigantic mother might get upset. I crawled out on the rafter. Katinka decided this must mean I wanted to play. I had to chase her around the lamp twice before cornering her inside a glass chimney. I scooped up the pink spiderlet. She danced enthusiastically all over my hand. Trying not to shudder, I crept back and handed her over to the hovering Rosalie. Katinka descended a tiny pink line to her mother’s waiting grasp. When she did, I noticed that she had left a heart-shaped web on my palm.
“See, they’re not so bad,” Aahz said, grinning.
I ignored him and led the way out of the room.
CHAPTER TWO
“You can judge a man by the company he keeps.”
—F. SINATRA
Bunny smiled up at us from behind the desk. Her office, formerly mine, as the president of M.Y.T.H., Inc.,1 had been redecorated until no one would doubt to whom it belonged. Everything was tidy and so clean that a dust mote would look out of place. Stylish knickknacks were placed here and there on tabletops and desktops. I had no idea what some of them were, but they were pretty spiffy and absolutely nothing that I would ever in a thousand years lay out money to buy. Bunny had had the walls moved outward so that there was space for armchairs for every partner when we had meetings, which was at least once a week when everyone was in the Bazaar there in Deva.
The expansion itself didn’t cause any hard feelings among the rest of us. It didn’t rob anyone of office or living space. We had plenty of room to spare.
If you had come upon our headquarters on the loud, hot and crowded street of the Bazaar, you would be unimpressed by the humble, narrow tent with artistically distressed patching on the flap, jammed into the gap between two larger and more impressive pavilions full of showy merchandise, but once inside, you’d have gasped out loud. Our headquarters has only a door in Deva. The rest of the facility extends into another dimension, where we own enough property to expand to suit our needs. That dimension is Limbo, whose denizens are vampires, werewolves, and other beings that I associate with night and horror, though they are pretty peaceful neighbors overall. I had been out the rear door into Limbo only a few times since we had moved in. Aahz would not go near it unless forced; they had tried to execute him once, so he bore a grudge. A Pervish grudge was a lot more difficult to live with than vampires and werewolves, so we kept contact to a minimum.
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