Hit Or Myth

by Robert Asprin

Now that I had a clearer picture of the situation, I might have mustered a bit of sympathy for the King's predicament, if he hadn't stuck me in it in his stead.

  "Enough about Impasse. Now give me your opinions of my bride-to-be."

  There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence.

  "Impasse doesn't have a monarchy," Grimble said carefully. "That is, until recently. It was more a tribal state, where the strongest ruled. When the last king died, however, his daughter Hemlock somehow managed to take over and maintain the throne, thereby establishing a royal line of sorts. Exactly how she did it is unclear."

  "Some say that prior to the king's death she managed to gain the...loyalty of all the able-bodied fighters in the kingdom, thereby securing her claim from challenge," Badaxe supplied.

  I held up a restraining hand.

  "Gentlemen, what you're telling me are facts. I asked for your opinions."

  This time, there was a long uncomfortable silence.

  "That good, eh?" I grimaced.

  "Your Majesty must remember," Grimble protested,

  "we are being asked to express our hidden feelings about a woman who will soon be our Queen."

  "Not until the marriage," I growled. "Right now, I am your king. Get my drift?"

  They got it, and swallowed hard.

  "The words 'cold-blooded' and 'ruthless' come to mind," the general said, "and that's the impression of a man who's made a career of the carnage of war."

  "I'm sure the rumors that she murdered her father to gain control of the kingdom are exaggerated," Grimble argued weakly.

  "...But your Majesty would be well advised to insist on separate sleeping quarters, and even then sleep lightly...and armed," the general concluded firmly.

  "No difficulty should be encountered with separate quarters," Grimble leered. "It's said Queen Hemlock has the morals of an alley cat."

  "Terrific," I sighed.

  The Chancellor favored me with a paternal smile.

  "Oh, there's no doubt that the entire kingdom, myself included, admires your Majesty for the sacrifices he is willing to make for his people."

  The trouble was, only I knew who the King was willing to sacrifice!

  I studied Grimble's smile through hooded eyes, seeking desperately through my mind for something to disrupt his smug enjoyment of the situation. Suddenly, I found it.

  "I've been meaning to ask, does anyone know the current whereabouts of our Court Magician?"

  Grimble's smile disappeared like water on a hot skillet.

  "He's...gone, your Majesty."

  "What? Out on another of his madcap adventures?"

  The Chancellor averted his eyes.

  "No, I mean, he's...gone. Tendered his resignation and left."

  "Tendered his resignation to whom?" I pressed. "On whose authority has he quit his post during this, my darkest hour?"

  "Ahh...mine, your Majesty."

  "What was that, Grimble? I couldn't quite hear you."

  "Mine. I told him he could go."

  Grimble was sweating visibly now, which was fine by me. In fact, an idea was beginning to form in my mind.

  "Hmm...knowing you, Lord Chancellor, I would suspect money is behind the Great Skeeve's sudden departure."

  "In a way," Grimble evaded, "you might say that."

  "Well, it won't do," I said firmly. "I want him back...and before this accursed marriage. What's more, since you approved his departure, I'm holding you personally responsible for his return."

  "But your Majesty! I wouldn't know where to start looking. He could be anywhere by now."

  "He can't have gone far," Badaxe volunteered casually. "His dragon and unicorn are still in the Royal Stables."

  "They are?" the Chancellor blinked.

  "Yes," the General smiled, "as you might know if you ever set foot outside your counting house."

  "See, Grimble," I said. "The task I set before you should be easy for a man of your resources. Now off with you. The longer you tarry here, the longer it will be before you find our wayward magician."

  The Chancellor started to say something, then shrugged and started for the door.

  "Oh, Grimble," I called. "Something you might keep in mind. I heard a rumor that the Great Skeeve has recently been disguising himself as me for an occasional prank. Like as not the scamp is parading around somewhere with the royal features on his face. That tidbit alone should help you locate him."

  "Thank you, your Majesty," the Chancellor responded glumly, reminded now of the shape-changing abilities of his supposed quarry.

  I wasn't sure, but I thought General Badaxe was stifling a laugh somewhere in the depths of his beard as his rival trudged out.

  "How about you, General? Do you think your men could assist in passing word of my royal summons to the Great Skeeve?"

  "That won't be necessary, your Majesty."

  With sudden seriousness he approached me, laid a hand on my shoulder, and stared into my eyes.

  "Lord Magician," he said, "the King would like to see you."

  Chapter Seven

  "There is no counter for a spirited woman except spirited drink."

  -R. Butler

  "YOU'VE known for some time that I'm a fighting man. What you don't seem to realize is what that implies."

  We were sitting over wine now, in a much more relaxed conversation than when I had been pretending to be King Rodrick.

  "Fighting men recognize people as much by movement and mannerism as they do by facial feature. It's a professional habit. Now, you had the appearance and voice of the King, but your carriage and gestures were that of the Great Skeeve, not Rodrick the Fifth."

  "But if you knew I was an imposter, why didn't you say something?"

  The General drew himself up stiffly.

  "The King had not taken me into his confidence in this matter, nor had you. I felt it would have been rude to intrude on your affairs uninvited."

  "Weren't you afraid that I might be a part of some plot to murder the King and take his place?"

  "Lord Magician, though we met as rivals, prolonged exposure to you has caused my respect for you to grow to no small matter. Both in your convincing Big Julie and his army to defect from the Mob and join Possiltum as honest citizens, and in fighting at your side in the Big Game when you risked life and limb to rescue a comrade in peril, you have shown ingenuity, courage, and honor. While I may still speak of you from time to time in less than glowing terms, my lowest opinion of you does not include the possibility of your having a hand in murdering your employer."

  "Thank you. General."

  "...And besides, only a total idiot would want to assume Rodrick's place so soon before his marriage to Queen Hemlock."

  I winced.

  "So much for your growing respect."

  "I said 'ingenuity, courage, and honor.' I made no mention of intelligence. Very well, then, a total idiot or someone under orders from his king."

  "How about a bit of both?" I sighed.

  "I suspected as much." Badaxe nodded. "Now that we're speaking candidly, may I ask as to the whereabouts of the King?"

  "Good question."

  In a few depressing sentences, I brought him up to date on my assignment and Rodrick's disappearance.

  "I was afraid something like this would happen," the General said when I concluded. "The King has been looking desperately for some way out of this marriage, and it looks like he's found it. Well, needless to say, if there's anything I can do to help, just ask."

  "Thanks, General. As a matter of fact, I...."

  "...As long as it doesn't go against the good of the kingdom," Badaxe amended. "Like helping you to escape. Possiltum needs a king, and for the time being, you're it!"

  "Oh. Well...how about using your men to help find the king?"

  Badaxe shook his head.

  "Can't do it. Massha has that assignment. If I sent my men to back her up, she'd think I didn't have any faith in her."

  Terrific! I had an ally, if I could get a
round his loyalties and amorous entanglements.

  The General must have noticed my expression.

  "Anything else I'll be willing to do."

  "Like what?"

  "Well...like teaching you to defend yourself against your bride-to-be."

  That actually sounded promising.

  "Do you think we'll have enough time?"

  With that, there was a heavy knocking at the door.

  "Your Majesty! The carriage of Queen Hemlock is approaching the palace!"

  "No," said the General, with disheartening honesty.

  We barely made it to our appointed places ahead of the Queen's procession. The throne of Possiltum had been temporarily moved to a position just inside the doors to the palace, and only by sprinting through the corridors with undignified abandon were Badaxe and I able to reach our respective positions before the portals were thrown open.

  "Remind me to have a word with you about the efficiency of your army's early warning system," I said to the General as I sank into my seat.

  "I believe it was the Court Magician who complained about the excessive range of the military spy system," Badaxe retorted. "Perhaps your Majesty will see fit now to convince him of the necessity of timely information."

  Before I could think of a sufficiently polite response, the Queen's party drew to a halt at the foot of the stairs.

  The kingdom of Impasse had apparently spared no expense on the Queen's carriage. If it was not actually fashioned of solid gold, there were sufficient quantities of the metal in the trim and decorations as to make the difference academic. I took secret pleasure that Grimble was not present to gloat at the scene. The curtains were drawn, allowing us to see the rich embroidery upon them, but not who or what was within. A team of eight matched horses completed the rig, though their shaggy coats and short stature suggested that normally the mountainfolk put them to far more practical use than dragging royalty around the countryside.

  With the carriage, however, any semblance of decorum about the Queen's procession vanished.

  Her escort consisted of at least twenty retainers, all mounted and leading extra horses, though whether these were relief mounts or the bride's dowry I couldn't tell. The escort was also all male, and of a uniform appearance; broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, and muscle-bound. They reminded me of miniature versions of the opposing teams Aahz and I had faced during the Big Game, but unlike those players, these men were armed to the teeth. They fairly bristled with swords and knives, glittering from boot-tops, arm sheaths, and shoulder scabbards, such that I was sure the combined weight of their weapons offset that of the golden coach they were guarding. These weren't pretty court decorations, but well handled field weapons worn with the ease fighting men accord the tools of their trade.

  The men themselves were dressed in drab tunics suited more for crawling through thickets with knives clenched in their teeth than serving as a royal escort. Still, they wrinkled their broad, flat features into wide smiles as they alternately gawked at the building and waved at the crowd which seemed determined to unload the earlier noted surplus of flowers by burying the coach with them. The escort may have seemed sloppy and undisciplined in the eyes of Badaxe or Big Julie, but I wouldn't want to be the one to try to take anything away from them; Queen, coach, kingdom, or even a flower they had taken a fancy to.

  Two men in the procession were notable exceptions to the rule. Even on horseback they looked to be head and shoulder taller than the others and half again as broad. They had crammed their massive frames into tunics which were clean and formal, and appeared to be unarmed. I noted, however, that instead of laughing or waving, they sat ramrod stiff in their saddles and surveyed their surroundings with the bored, detached attention to detail I normally associated with predators...big predators.

  I was about to call Badaxe's attention to the pair when the carriage door opened. The woman who appeared was obviously akin to most of the men in the escort. She had the same broad, solid build and facial features, only more so. My first impression was that she looked like the bottom two-thirds of an oak door, if the door were made of granite. Unsmiling, she swept the area with a withering stare, then nodded to herself and stepped down.

  "Lady in waiting," Badaxe murmured.

  I'm not sure if his comment was meant to reassure me, but it did. Only after did it occur to me that the General had volunteered the information to keep me from running, which I had been seriously considering.

  The next figure in view was a radical departure from the other Impassers in the party. She was arrow thin and pale with black stringy black hair that hung straight past her shoulders. Instead of the now expected round, flat face, her features looked like she had been hung up by her nose to dry. She wasn't unpleasant to look at, in fact, I guessed that she was younger than I was, but the pointed nose combined with a pair of dark, shiny-alert eyes gave her a vaguely rodent appearance. Her dress was a long-sleeved white thing that would have probably looked more fetching on a clothes-hanger. Without more than a glance at the assembled citizens she gathered up what slack there was in the skirt, hopped down from the carriage, and started up the stairs toward me with the athletic, leggy grace of a confirmed tom-boy.

  "That is Queen Hemlock," the General supplied.

  I had somehow suspected as much, but having received confirmation, I sprang into action. This part, at least, I knew how to handle, having had it drilled into me over and over again by my advisors.

  I rose to my feet and stood regally until she reached the throne, then timed my bow to coincide with her curtsey...monarch greeting monarch and all that.

  Next, I was supposed to welcome her to Possiltum, but before I could get my mouth open, she came up with her own greeting.

  "Sorry I didn't curtsey any lower, but I'm not wearing a thing under this dress. Rod, it's beastly hot here in the lowlands," she said, giving me a wide but thin-lipped smile.

  "Aahh....." I said carefully.

  Ignoring my response, or lack thereof, she smiled and waved at the throng, which responded with a roar of approval.

  "What idiot invited the rabble?" she asked, the smile never leaving her face.

  "Aahh...."I repeated.

  General Badaxe came to my rescue. "No formal announcement was made, your Majesty, but word of your arrival seems to have leaked out to the general populace. As might be expected, they are very eager to see their new Queen."

  "Looking like this?" she said, baring her teeth and waving to those on the rooftops. "Six days on the road in this heat without a bath or a change of clothes and instead of a discreet welcome, half the kingdom gets to see me looking like I was dragged along behind the coach instead of riding in it. Well, it's done and we can't change it. But mind you, if it happens again...General Badaxe, is it? I thought so. Anyway, as I was saying, if it happens again, heads will roll...and I'm not speaking figuratively."

  "Welcome to Possiltum," I managed at last.

  It was a considerably abbreviated version of the speech I had planned to give, but it was as much as I could remember under the circumstances.

  "Hello, Roddie," she said without looking at me, still waving at the crowd. "I'm going to scamper off for my quarters in a second. Be a love and try not to get underfoot during the next week...there's so much to do. Besides, it looks like you're going to have your hands full with other business."

  "How's that?"

  "You've got a wee bit of trouble coming your way, at least, according to the gentleman I met on the road. Here he comes now. Bye."

  "But..."

  Queen Hemlock had already disappeared, vanishing into the depths of the palace like a puff of smoke. Instead, I found myself focusing on the man who had stepped from the carriage and was currently trudging up the stairs toward my throne. I observed that he had the same weasel features and manners of J. R. Grimble.

  Mostly, though, I noticed that the two broad shouldered predators previously assumed to be part of the Queen's escort, had suddenly materialized at his sid
e, towering over him like a pair of bookends...mean looking bookends.

  I sat down, in part because the approaching figure did not seem to be royalty, but mostly because I had a feeling I wanted to be sitting down for this next interview.

  The man reached my throne at last, drew himself up, and gave a curt nod rather than a bow. This, at least, looked polite, since his flankers didn't acknowledge my presence at all.

  "Forgive me for intruding on such a festive occasion, your Majesty," the man said, "but there are certain matters we need to discuss."

  "Such as...?"

  "My name is Shai-ster, and I represent a...consortium of businessmen. I wish to confer with one of your retainers concerning certain employees of ours who failed to report in after pursuing our interests in this region."

  As I mentioned earlier, I was getting pretty good at speaking "bureaucrat." This man's oration, however, lost me completely.

  "You want to what about who?"

  The man sighed and hung his head for a moment.

  "Let me put it to you this way," he said at last. "I'm with the Mob, and I want to see your Magician, Skeeve. It's about our army, Big Julie's boys, that sort of disappeared after tangling with him. Now do you understand me?"

  Chapter Eight

  "Choose your friends carefully. Your enemies will choose you!"

  -Y. Arafat

  WITHIN a few days of Queen Hemlock's arrival, the palace of Possiltum had the happy, relaxed air of a battlefield the night before the battle. The Queen's party and the mob representatives were housed in the palace as "royal guests," giving me a two-front war whether I wanted it or not.

  Queen Hemlock was not an immediate problem; she was more like a time bomb. With specific orders to "stay out of her way," I didn't have to deal with her much, and even General Badaxe admitted that if she were going to try to kill me, it wouldn't be until after the wedding when she was officially Queen of Possiltum. Still, as the wedding day loomed closer, I was increasingly aware that she would have to be dealt with.

  The Mob representatives, however, were an immediate problem. I had stalled them temporarily by telling them that the Court Magician was not currently in the palace, but had been sent for, and as a token of good faith had given them the hospitality of the palace. They didn't drink much, and never pestered me with questions about "Skeeve's" return. There was no doubt in my mind, however, that at some time their patience would be exhausted and they would start looking for the Court Magician themselves. I also had a feeling that "some time" would be real soon.