Robert Asprin's Myth-Quoted

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “This is going to be a great article!” she gushed. “An exposé on the exposure exposé that was supposed to expose you! Thanks!” She shook both of our hands and rushed out of the door.

  “I hope that helps with the corruption accusations,” I said.

  “I doubt it,” Bunny said thoughtfully.

  * * *

  She was right. The article never appeared. I checked the Morning Gossip and all the other papers. I asked Ecstra about it the next day at the morning debate. She looked depressed.

  “My boss killed it,” she said. “He even took my notes. It was good journalism!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “The truth never hurt anybody.”

  —O. WILDE

  I wasn’t going to let the newspapers control the truth. I had other ways of getting the word out. We were going to regain control of the situation one way or another.

  Bunny and I wrote up everything we could recall about the attempts at bribery, seduction, and slander, not getting too graphic about the show-and-tell I had not witnessed, but making it clear we were being victimized to draw attention away from the election.

  I caught Sid before the She went on for her noon recitation in the main square. She was a tall, bony female with gray skin and flowing green hair, dressed in a robe of thin, moss-green cloth that fluttered when she walked. The She smiled, which pulled the sparse skin of her face away from her snaggled teeth.

  “Hi, Bunny. Hi, Skeeve. What can I do for you?” she asked. Her high-pitched voice made me shudder, but there was no doubt that she was an effective speaker. She knew that my difficulty tolerating the sound was nothing personal.

  “I’ve got a special addition for you,” I said. I gave her the script. She glanced through it.

  “This will make them open their eyes! I’ll give it my best play,” she promised. The town clock in the nearby tower struck midday with a friendly tenor chime. “You’d better get going if you’re not going to listen to my performance.”

  Bunny and I looked at each other. “We’d better stay,” I said. “I want to make sure it gets out.”

  I had already found a spot as far away from the gazebo as possible, with no buildings behind us to echo the sound. Bunny reassured Sid.

  “We’ll stay.”

  “All right,” Sid the She said. “By the way, thanks for the gig. I’ve been between jobs for a while. This has helped me pay off some of my outstanding bills.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I have discovered elections can be good for the economy.”

  With our ears stuffed with wax, Bunny and I sat down on a park bench under a flowering tree. A large blue butterfly flapped around our heads and settled on the nearest colorful blossom. The crowd started filling in around us. Some even unpacked picnic baskets. The largest part of the audience seemed to be young Tipps who must have just been old enough to vote in their first election. I felt a measure of pride for getting them interested in civic responsibility. The day was fine and sunny. I prepared to enjoy myself.

  Sid the She took her place in the center of the gazebo. A real professional at her craft, she never needed cue cards or an accompanist. She struck a pose, waiting until every eye was on her. Then she placed her hand upon her midsection to monitor her breathing, and opened her mouth.

  “Hail, citizens of Bokromi!” she sang. “These are the tidings of the day, and woe upon those who pay no heed!”

  The butterfly fled. It had good sense. I wish I could have done the same. I gritted my teeth.

  Sid’s voice wailed up and down the scales, filling the square and echoing off every building, tree, and fence. If it hadn’t been for the wax in my ears, I would have been writhing in pain. Bunny’s face twisted with discomfort.

  “. . . The names of Skeeve and Bunny, good citizens who have been friends to Tipicanoo, must not suffer the torment of slander!”

  She went down the list I had given her of the many attempts to make us out to be crooks and asserted that they were all untrue. The adults listened, nodding their heads in time with the cadence of her words. I searched their faces for signs that they understood, but it was the young people who seemed the most moved by the She’s performance. Literally, in fact. They got up and danced, gyrating to the sound of the wailing voice. I was amazed. The She had them in the palm of her hand.

  “I’m surprised she doesn’t get more work,” I whispered to Bunny.

  “What?” Bunny asked.

  I had forgotten about the wax.

  “I said,” raising my voice, “I’m sorry she doesn’t get more work!”

  Bunny gestured at her ears. “I can’t hear you!”

  “Shhh!” Some of the listeners said, turning around with their fingers to their lips. I settled down to listen. Sid was good, no doubt about it. She lifted her arms up to the sky and hit her big crescendo.

  “. . . This has been a pai-aaaii—aaaiiid political announcement!”

  The entire audience sprang to its feet and burst into applause. Bunny and I rose and joined them. I clapped wildly as Sid took an encore.

  “Do not forget to voooo-ooo-oote! It is your ri-iii-iiight!”

  The She hit a final high note that went straight through my head, and all the lights went out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Trust us, things are just fine as they are.”

  —WALL STREET

  I woke up in pitch-darkness. A faint echo told me I was in a stone room. A thrumming like a heartbeat vibrated up through the soles of my shoes. I tried to get up, but my hands were tied to the arms of the chair in which I was seated. So were my ankles. The wax was no longer in my ears.

  “Bunny?” I whispered.

  “Skeeve?” her voice came from beside me. She sounded shaken. I wasn’t surprised. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

  “No. Can you get us loose?”

  I closed my eyes and felt around for force lines. Two were close by: a spiky white line that ran below our feet, and a wide yellow line overhead. I was not familiar with either of them, but they didn’t fight me as I gathered magikal force from them. I pictured the ropes at my wrists unknotting. The magik got to work on my bonds. I felt the pressure around my left arm lessening. Then it increased again. The ropes secured themselves more firmly. I went to gather up more magik. A stronger force prevented me from reaching the force lines.

  “Not so fast.”

  A deep male voice boomed in the darkness. I realized that we were not alone. Using magik I struck a spark of light that was quickly extinguished. Before it was, I saw the outlines of several people seated in chairs. They were all looking at us.

  “Who are you?” I asked the blackness. “Why have you kidnapped us?”

  “Kidnap is such a harsh word,” the deep voice said. “Say, perhaps, that we have invited you for an ad hoc mandatory private meeting.”

  “No, thanks, I’ll stick with kidnap,” I said.

  “As you wish.”

  “Why are we here?”

  A new voice spoke, a thin tenor. “You are interfering with us. We cannot permit that.”

  Enlightenment filled in the features in my memory that were attached to that style of speaking.

  “You’re Romses Beleeger,” I said. “And Tolomi Papirus. You’re both editors. Are you all editors?”

  “We knew you were intelligent,” a female voice said, approvingly. I knew without a doubt that she was the editor of the Tipp Sheet. “We were simply hoping you were intelligent enough not to push hard where you weren’t allowed.”

  I raised my eyebrows, though no one knew it but me. “Not allowed to do what?”

  Romses answered for the group. “Restrict our future income. We have a sinecure here. You must not try to continue in this enterprise.”

  “This enterprise? The election? Is that why you’re working so hard to make us look bad?” I asked. “You don’t want there to be an election. You really want Bokromi to go on with this endless campaign so you
can sell newspapers?”

  Tolomi cleared his throat. “Yes. We knew you would catch on. We hoped that after a little pressure you would understand the way things are here. The way things need to be. It’s in our best interests.”

  “For you, maybe,” Bunny said. “This island is falling apart without decent management. Until last week no one was fixing broken lamps or cleaning the streets. The city streets were full of trash. No one could be proud of that.”

  “That’s not important to the Syndication,” Tolomi said, sounding amused. “We profit whether there’s garbage pickup or not.” I heard murmurs of agreement.

  I shook my head. “So it’s not just one or a couple of papers involved in this conspiracy—it’s all of you!”

  “Even more impressive,” the Tipp Sheet editor said. “Though rather late in coming. And does that realization show you how futile it would be to continue your efforts?”

  “We’re not going to quit,” Bunny said in a tight voice. I could tell that she was furious.

  “How can you go on? You’ve lost your credibility. Your clients are beginning to find you an embarrassment. They want themselves in the headlines, not their handpicked organizers. If you were removed from the scene, everything could go back to the way it was before. Everyone would have a job, and there would be no more questions about ending such a nice way of life.”

  I felt ice forming in my belly. I struggled against my bonds, trying to find a gap in the magik holding me.

  “You have to let us go,” I said. “Too many people would ask questions if we didn’t come back. We have friends who would find out who is responsible, and they believe in vengeance.”

  “Vengeance?” the Tipp Sheet editor asked. “For what?”

  “If you . . . disposed of us. That’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it?”

  “You fear we would kill you?” Romses asked incredulously. “When you have provided us with the most impressive increase in circulation in years? Certainly not! My stockholders would never forgive me!”

  “But you know when we leave we’re going to tell everyone what happened here,” I said.

  “It won’t matter what you tell anyone,” Tolomi said, clearly amused. “Who are they going to believe, you or what they read in the papers?”

  “We can get the message to the electorate,” I said. “We’re watching out for your dirty tricks now.”

  “Said the Klahd tied to a chair,” Romses said. “Clea, set them free.”

  “All right,” said the Tipp Sheet editor.

  The bonds on my wrists and ankles fell to the floor. I reached out for Bunny. Her hand met mine and twined in it.

  “I just want you to know you’ll never get away with it,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think,” Tolomi said. “No exposé you write will ever get into a single paper. Your town crier will come down with a bad case of laryngitis, and no one will hear it. We have a long reach. Information travels faster than the fleetest foot or the most powerful magik.”

  I fumed. These Tipps were accustomed to being despots in their own domains. They worked together to make sure they all did well, no matter who else it hurt.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why can’t you just let the election continue? There will be other great stories in the future. You just have to let them happen!”

  “Not as good as this one,” Clea said. “We’ve kept it going for five years. I don’t see why we can’t keep it up for another five. Or maybe ten. We’ll keep this going on as long as we want.”

  “The candidates will quit,” I said.

  “Then new ones will take their place. Bokromi needs a governor.”

  “But you won’t let one be elected!”

  Tolomi laughed, and the entire Syndication joined in. The sound was chilling in the hollow cave. “They don’t know that.”

  “Then we have a lot of work to do to prove you wrong,” I said, rising to my feet. I put an arm around Bunny. “Now, are you going to let us out, or do I have to show you what I can do when I’m really angry?”

  “I am certain it is futile to propose it again,” Romses said, “but if you choose to cooperate with us, you may receive part of our profit. A small emolument for your time and trouble.”

  “Forget it,” I snarled.

  “As you wish,” the voice in the dark said. “A pity. We could have used your brains.”

  I steeled myself. If they were going to attack again, this was the moment. I gathered all the magik I could and stood ready.

  “Forty,” Clea said. The word seemed full of portent.

  Silence filled my ears.

  When I woke up, Bunny and I were back on the park bench. We were alone. The square had cleared out, except for two street sweepers, one wearing green and one in purple, gathering up banners and confetti. Sergeant Boxty looked down at us.

  “Loitering!” he said. “And I can add vagrancy to disturbing the peace!”

  “Now, just a minute,” I sputtered. “We were just sitting here for a moment.”

  “Snoring!” Sergeant Boxty said. “If you can’t sing like your skinny friend, then you shouldn’t make noise in public! I should run you in.”

  Bunny rose and smiled at him. “Oh, you aren’t going to do that, are you? Not on such a beautiful day?”

  As if on cue, some of the hired birds burst into song. A scarlet butterfly danced on the breeze. Sergeant Boxty started to relent.

  “Well, just this once,” he said. “I’m a fan of Sid the She. If you can get me an autograph, I’ll forget what I just saw.”

  “I will,” I promised. Sergeant Boxty touched his hat with his nightstick and flew up the face of the cliff to the next terrace.

  “That was close,” I said to Bunny. She had an odd expression on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was upset, angry, or in despair.

  “Do you want to give up?” I asked her.

  “Not a chance,” Bunny said, firmly. She was angry but not at me. “Not now, after they threatened us. Not if you pulled out my nails with pliers.”

  “Good,” I said. “Neither do I. We’ll just have to take more precautions.”

  “And play as dirty as they do, if we have to.”

  I smiled at her. “But it would be so much more satisfying to win playing by the rules.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Old habits are hard to break.”

  —C. SHEEN

  “This is totally against the contract you signed,” Bunny said, holding up a sheaf of receipts to Orlow. The Friendship Party manager had been backed up against a wall in the Hotel Tippmore conference room. “Tickets to the zoo for a thousand children? They’re marked at seven copper pieces each!”

  “Er, volume discount?” Orlow suggested hopefully.

  Bunny wasn’t buying it. “You agreed not to give gifts over a copper piece in value.”

  “We had to! The Wisdom Party set up a carnival outside of town and gave free Pegasus rides!”

  “I have already dealt with them,” Bunny said. “We sent the Pegasus home after he gave me his bill for five copper pieces a ride!”

  “An honest mistake,” Carnelia said, placatingly. “We misunderstood his fee. It was a trifle more than we thought it was going to be.”

  Bunny was unimpressed. “What is the matter with both of you? You know the terms. You are not allowed to buy votes! It’s illegal!”

  “Er, the kiddies can’t vote, you know . . .”

  “But their parents can, and I suppose they were admitted to the zoo as well? I certainly saw adults on the Pegasus’s back!”

  I couldn’t blame her for being upset. We were fighting a war on two fronts now. The Syndication continued to print whatever it felt like. No longer did newspapers bother to tell the truth about the campaign events. In fact, they departed from fact so drastically that it was hard to reconcile the events of real life with what I read in the papers. I was struck by the masterful fantasy of trained writers putting together fictional accounts
of what had happened. Newspaper circulation shot up, but attendance at the debates, speeches, and other functions went down.

  What was worse, word of more “anonymous interviews” was hinted in the gossip columns. The Syndication redoubled its allegations that we were to blame for all the delays in the past, notwithstanding the fact that we had been in Bokromi for only two weeks.

  Not surprisingly, with our reputation getting muddied, the campaign managers began to feel as though they were free to behave any way they wanted to. They started to leak things to the press on their own. And give out large gifts to influential people, such as big-business owners. And make open promotions during speeches and other appearances, such as tickets to the zoo and Pegasus rides. Such things couldn’t go on too long before Bunny got wind of them, and she descended upon both candidates, or rather their managers, like an avalanche.

  When we had paid visits to both party headquarters, you would have thought we were the most welcome visitors possible, short of the Gnomish Clearing House Reward Squad bringing them sacks full of gold coins.

  “Why, Miss Bunny, Mr. Skeeve,” Carnelia had said, embracing us like long-lost rich relatives. “I was just about to call upon you! How would you like to join me for lunch? I have engaged that nice room at the Hotel Tippmore.”

  “By an outstanding coincidence, Orlow invited us there for lunch just a few minutes ago,” Bunny said. “I think that it would be a very good idea. We need to talk, and I think you will want us to have that conversation in private.”

  Carnelia hastily donned her fur stole and accompanied us to the hotel.

  I was beginning to think of the conference room as a home away from home. Carnelia fussed over us, making sure we each had enough delicate little sandwiches and pouring tea for us from the trays she had ordered. Orlow offered us cigars, candy, liquor, each more expensive than the last, from the trays that he had ordered. I recognized a buttering-up when I saw it.