Since I had rejoined M.Y.T.H., Inc., we had undergone a change of management. When we had founded it, I was its president. Now Bunny, niece of Don Bruce, Fairy Godfather of the Mob, was our leader. Her style was far different from mine. I had been involved but casual in terms of organization and oversight. I trusted my partners and expected them to come through on their assignments without a lot of oversight by me. Bunny trusted us, too, but she liked to hold meetings at least once a week, to keep track of progress and let the rest of us know where things stood. For all the underlying rivalry that still existed between Aahz and me, we were united in our belief that all those meetings were overkill, though we had to admit it seemed to be working. Nothing had fallen into the cracks since Bunny took over. As Aahz often said, if it works, don’t fix it.
Almost all of my partners were present. Tananda, a shapely, green-haired Trollop from the dimension of Trollia, lounged delectably in a silken cushion. Her brother Chumley, a Troll, as the males were known, was between seven and eight feet tall and covered with shaggy purple hair, and his moon-shaped eyes were two different sizes. He sat upright on a wooden ladderback chair that groaned under his weight, taking notes on a jotting pad in handwriting so neat it could have come off a printing press. Guido and Nunzio, a pair of big, muscular Klahds, lately of Don Bruce’s service but seconded to M.Y.T.H., Inc., for years now, lurked in a corner, their backs to the wall and their eyes on the door. The former enforcers were good friends of ours. Pookie, another Pervect and Aahz’s cousin, and Spyder, her Klahdish cohort, were dressed in elaborate purple robes with hoods that reached up over their heads and nearly touched their noses. They were on long-term assignment in another dimension.
A visitor but occasional contractor perched in a doll-sized rocker beside Bunny’s desk. Markie was a former enemy who looked like a very young Klahd girl but was actually an adult from her home dimension of Cupy. She was a very useful operative, since no one would suspect her on sight. She, too, was on assignment, as the small daughter of a very wealthy king in Bandero who had been the victim of an attempted kidnapping plot by Fairies. Instead of her usual casual attire, she wore a pink velvet dress with full lace petticoats, and her blond hair, in corkscrew curls, was adorned with a sparkling tiara. A doll in matching clothing lay underneath the rocker. I was looking forward to hearing her update. Her description of life in the Bandero court was lively, and her one encounter so far with her would-be abductors left my ribs aching from laughter.
The last member of the company present was Gleep. He is my dragon. For his own species he is very young, but he is as smart as a whip. He can talk, but I’m the only one who knows it. The rest of my friends think all he can say is “Gleep!” We haven’t let them in on the secret.
I sprawled in my personal armchair. A fresh fruit juice waited in the padded holder just a few inches from my hand. I like a glass of wine once a day—more than that and I regress to a state of my life I am ashamed of—but the lack of it meant Bunny wanted no chance of my mind being fuzzy. That had happened only once, when I drank some Pervish wine Aahz brought back from his home dimension. I should have known that would be trouble, since the wine hadn’t stopped moving yet.
Have I described Bunny yet? She’s well worth a close look. Small of stature but voluptuous of figure, especially on top, Bunny had caused plenty of our clients to forget about their purpose in coming when they saw her. She has deep-red hair cut short. It curls forward to frame small, perfect ears and high cheekbones in a heart-shaped face. Her wide eyes are flower blue. She has a turned-up nose, a rosebud mouth, and a decided chin. It has decided to be pointed and pert, and no one I know would disagree with it. That day she had on a tight-fitting, two-piece suit of leaf green. The skirt was short enough to cause my pulse to race, though I had long ago promised myself to regard Bunny as a trusted friend and associate only. Visitors who saw only a pretty, vacuous-seeming face, as I had when I first met her, were thrown off guard by the incisive brain behind it. She had a degree in accounting and a firm grounding in her uncle’s business. She never failed to collect the fees we negotiated. Clients found it hard to say no to her. I know I did. If I had to surrender the presidency to anyone, she was the best choice.
“How’d he do?” Bunny asked, turning the wide blue eyes on Aahz.
My partner slid into his own custom-made recliner. The scalp massager moved forward to get to work on the scales between his ears.
“Not so great,” Aahz said. “He’s got to get used to dodging nosy questions under any circumstances. Sometimes reporters bring in their own muscle to beat answers out of interviewees.”
“I thought I did okay,” I protested, hurt. “You think you could have done better?”
“In my sleep,” Aahz said, firmly. “On a bed of nails with sumo wrestlers playing tennis on my back.”
I opened my mouth to ask what a sumo was, then shut it. “I didn’t answer any questions I didn’t want to.”
“But you gave them information. Your expressions, the tone of your voice, all that tells them something that you didn’t want them to know. You lost control of the situation. They saw your loss of confidence. That interview would have made every evening news broadcast on Perv, and you’d have looked like a fool. But nice save on the spider. You figured out they were good guys just in time. Rosalie said Katinka had fun.” He leered playfully at me. “You want to sit for her Friday evening?”
“I’ll be busy,” I said firmly. “No matter when it is.”
“You probably will,” Bunny said with a cheerful grin. She sensibly refused to get involved in our ongoing rivalry. “I have assignments for both of you. And I want you present when I talk to this next caller.”
“Miss Bunny?” a resonant tenor voice inquired from the door.
“Come in, Mr. Weavil,” she said, gesturing the newcomer forward. By the look on her face, Bunny was uneasy with our potential client.
I was used to all kinds coming in to get M.Y.T.H., Inc.’s help. When the visitor entered, I suddenly understood why Bunny had all the partners and Markie on hand instead of seeing him alone. His aura felt creepy.
“Good afternoon, my friends,” he said, turning to beam at us with a broad set of gleaming white teeth. He came around to grasp each of our hands and shake them vigorously, meeting our eyes with his large, sincere brown orbs. He was slim, with pale, shiny brown fur; a long snout; sharp, square teeth; furry ears that stood up on each side of his head; and narrow paws on his short arms and legs. “Emo Weavil. Proud to make your acquaintance! What a fine-looking bunch you are! Miss Bunny, I can’t tell you how gratified I am that you are allowing me to meet so many of your associates today.”
Gleep rose to a crouch. A growl erupted in his throat. A dragon’s growl isn’t like a dog’s that warns you that you’re under surveillance and you had better behave or leave. It’s more like a reminder that you are in the presence of a really dangerous being who is sparing you from violent death only because at the moment it isn’t worth his while to kill you. Weavil’s eyes widened for an almost imperceptible moment, then eased. The smile increased in intensity.
“And what a fine dragon! Look at those scales! They are so shiny I can see my face in them.”
Gleep was not placated by the compliment.
I distrusted Emo Weavil on sight as much as my dragon did, but I wasn’t sure why. He seemed oily and dishonest—living in the Bazaar, you learned to size people up on sight—but that wasn’t unusual. It was the depth of dislike I felt that surprised me. Even Tanda, who felt that showing off her pulchritude was the most natural thing in the world, pulled the lapels of her bodice closer together and moved a hand nearer to the dagger in her boot.
Bunny’s voice was just above ice cold. “Please sit down, Mr. Weavil.”
“Sure, sure, if you like!” He settled himself in the seat Bunny pointed to with the aplomb of a king. I noticed it was one of the uncomfortable iron chairs we kept when we didn’t want a visitor to stay for long. “This certainly is an
amazing place! It matches everything I’ve ever heard about your company.”
“State your case, Mr. Weavil.”
The abruptness of Bunny’s tone didn’t faze our visitor at all. He opened his huge brown eyes in a show of sincerity. “I would just love to! I want all of you on my side. I need the kind of help that only M.Y.T.H., Inc., can provide. I don’t think I can get fair play unless you come and help me—help all of us. You see,” he added, hooking his thumb into the lapel of his jacket, “I’m running for the office of governor of the fine island of Bokromi in the dimension of Tipicanoo.”
I groaned quietly to myself. No wonder we distrusted him! He was a politician.
“Oh, I say,” Chumley burst out. Astonished, Emo Weavil turned to stare at him. Trolls generally communicated with denizens of other dimensions in monosyllabic grunts. “Me mean, I say twist head off!” In emphasis, he threw his notebook into his mouth and chewed on it.
“No, no!” Emo protested. “I am trying to run an honest race! That’s why I am here. I am under siege! My efforts to keep things all aboveboard and open are being attacked! The Friendship Party has entrusted me with its candidacy. I must not fail it. M.Y.T.H., Inc., is my last hope!”
Bunny rose.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weavil. I don’t think there’s anything we can do for you.”
Weavil remained seated. “But, dear lady, why not?”
“I don’t think we want to get involved in something as dirty as politics. It’s such a . . . filthy occupation.” Bunny shuddered, a gesture that made her flesh quiver interestingly.
Emo regarded her with hurt astonishment, an expression that looked natural on his pleasant, almost innocent face.
“But aren’t you Don Bruce’s niece? The boss of an, er, organization? And you won’t help me?”
“I’m sorry,” Bunny said, with a bright, friendly smile that I knew meant trouble. “I may come from a Mob family, but there are some depths to which even we won’t stoop. Have a nice day.”
Evidently, Emo Weavil had run into plenty of falsely cheerful expressions in his time.
“I see. Well, thank you all for your time,” he said, giving the rest of us a sorrowful look. His shoulders sank and his head drooped forward. The resonant voice choked with unshed tears. “I had to try—I believe in the effort of the underdog. And I had raised a substantial war chest for my campaign, too.”
He was the picture of dejection as he rose from his seat and shuffled sadly toward the door. I felt my heart turn over with sympathy.
Then I shook myself. What a master manipulator! We were better off not having anything to do with him.
But before he reached the door, Aahz lifted a finger.
“Wait a minute. What’s the rush?”
“Why shouldn’t he leave, Aahz?” Bunny asked.
Aahz’s eyes gleamed. “I think we could be of assistance to an honest servant of the people.”
Emo bounced back into the room. “Well, well! I knew a Pervert couldn’t resist jumping in to a fascinating situation!”
“That’s Per-vect!” Aahz snarled. Emo reversed two paces, then recovered.
“That is just what I said,” he declared. “Please, friend Pervect, put in a good word with your lovely and discerning employer here.”
“Why not?” Aahz shrugged, just a little too casually. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t hear him out, when he came this far to talk to us, is there, Bunny?”
“Aahz, he’s a politician!”
“Unelected,” Aahz pointed out. “Doesn’t make him a dishonest, slime-eating crook yet.”
Bunny let her shoulders drop. “True. All right, go ahead.”
“With pleasure.” Aahz turned to our visitor. “So, Emo—I can call you Emo, can’t I?—How much is in this war chest? In the interest of honest financial disclosure, of course.”
“Aahz!”
“It’s a fair question,” Aahz said. “Well, Emo?”
Emo could not have missed the implication, not if he knew anything about Pervects. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar. “But, my scaly friend, these funds are to promote my case with the people, to publicize the direction in which I want to take the administration. I am an amateur. This is my first try for elected office. I’m an outsider.”
“Naturally we’d like to help you,” Aahz purred, “but we don’t work for free. Can you pay us?”
“Of course I can! Whatever you ask . . .” He looked at the avid expression on Aahz’s face. “. . . Er, within reason.”
“Then maybe we can help you . . . under certain conditions.”
Emo began to look hopeful. “That would be fantastic, friend Pervect!”
I immediately detected a flaw in Aahz’s suggestion.
“Now, wait just a minute, Aahz,” I said. “If we threw our efforts behind Mr. Weavil, we’d overbalance the election in his favor. He’d win!”
Aahz lifted an eyebrow. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“He said he wants a fair election!”
“There’s no such thing,” Aahz insisted.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because it’s impossible!”
“Isn’t the impossible our specialty?” Tananda asked, with a raised eyebrow. She was baiting Aahz, and all of us knew it, but he winked at her.
“I want to win,” Emo said, “though my intention is to win fairly. You can help me to do that, my dear friends.”
Aahz grinned. “Now I know you’re a politician. You are trying to talk out of both sides of your mouth at the same time.”
I looked at our visitor. His mouth looked ordinary to me. “How could he talk any other way?”
“It means he t’inks he can be on both sides of the argument at the same time,” Guido translated.
“No! I mean, you can make sure that my election will be a fair one. In our dimension, polling cannot go ahead unless all candidates agree. I absolutely cannot unless I am sure that it will be an honest and evenhanded fight. But my opponent spikes me at every turn. It has caused the election to be delayed five years!”
“Who is your opponent?” Pookie asked.
“My cousin, Wilmer Weavil-Scuttil. He knows every trick in the book.”
“I doubt that,” Markie said, making a face. “Tipicanoo isn’t even on the main drag as far as ingrained corruption goes. He probably doesn’t even know all the tricks in Volume One.”
“Well, he knows enough!” Emo said. “He used some kind of magik on my nominating petitions so every one of the twelve thousand signatures was the same—mine! I had to get them all over again! And every reporter in my last press briefing fell asleep! The only way to wake them up was to kiss them—and, well, one does what one must for one’s country—but that’s typical of his perfidy and arrogance. Pernicious rumors about me have spread throughout the press. My wife is embarrassed every time she opens the morning paper. And the mudslinging!”
Aahz waved a hand. “That’s nothing. Name-calling is part of the cost of doing business. What fun is an election without mudslinging?”
“Not that kind of mudslinging. Real mud! Sticky, gooey, swamp mud, sometimes with frogs and snails still in it! Wilmer has no morals. That is why I must win. For the good of Tipicanoo.”
“And I suppose you’re totally innocent of wrongdoing,” Nunzio said, in a surprisingly high voice for a man of his size.
“I am!” Emo protested, with a hand flattened on his chest. “You will never find a single person who can tie me to any antisocial or illegal act, even with regard to my outrageous cousin. What about it, friends? Can I count on you? Work with me.”
Bunny put a thoughtful finger to her chin.
“I can see that the only answer is for us to moderate this election,” she said.
“Wonderful!” Emo exclaimed.
“. . . And that means we have to be paid by both sides, not just you. The same amount from you and your cousin.”
“Oh, no!” Emo looked horrified. “I mean . . . That’s no
t what . . . I’m not sure he’ll go along with that.”
Aahz shrugged. “Sounds like he should.”
“He’ll have to,” I said firmly. “If he hears that we’re coming in as your consultants, the only way that he can ensure a fair competition is if he hires us, too.”
“Well, I don’t want to have an unfair advantage . . .” Emo began weakly.
“Baloney,” Aahz said. “You wouldn’t be much of a politician if you didn’t take advantage.”
“But what if I don’t win?”
“That’s the meaning of a fair election,” Bunny said. “You said that’s what you want. Those are our terms. Still want to hire us?”
Emo’s head drooped. I could tell he wanted us only for his own purpose, but for appearances’ sake if nothing else, he had to give in. “I have little choice. This campaign has gone on for five years! We have to settle it soon, or the electorate is going to revolt. The deadlock has to be broken. Very well!” He smashed a fist into his palm. “I will be the one to break it!”
Bunny stood up. “That’s settled, then. We need to talk to your cousin.”
CHAPTER THREE
“And the winner is . . . none of the above!”
—THE VOTING PUBLIC
Wilmer Weavil-Scuttil, the candidate for the Wisdom Party, looked at us from underneath shaggy white brows. They and the bouffant white wig on his head were as false as the long brown lashes that Emo wore. I had the same uncomfortable feeling about him that I had had about his cousin.
Robert Asprin's Myth-Quoted Page 2
