MA05 Myth-ing Persons

by Robert Asprin

  “Drahcir ...” Idnew said, drawing out his name.

  “Don’t look at me like that, dear,” her husband argued before she had even started her case, “and don’t cock your head, either. Someone’s liable to shove a gramophone under it. Remember, you’re the one who keeps pointing out that we have to put more time into our work.”

  “I was talking about cutting back on your personal appearances,” Idnew argued. “Besides, this is important.”

  “So’s meeting our deadlines. I’m as sympathetic to their problem as you are, but we can’t let the plight of one small group of humans interfere with our work on the big picture.”

  “But you’re the one who insists that deadlines aren’t as important as ...”

  She broke off suddenly and semaphored her ears toward her husband.

  “Wait a minute. Any time you start talking about ‘big pictures’ and ‘grand crusades’ ... is our bank account low again?”

  Drahcir averted his eyes and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

  “Well, I was going to tell you, but I was afraid it might distract you while you were trying to work ...”

  “All right. Let’s have it,” his wife growled, her hackles rising slightly. “What is it you’ve invested our money in this time?”

  I was suddenly very uncomfortable. Our little discussion seemed to be dissolving into a family fight I felt I had no business being present for. Apparently Massha felt the same thing.

  “Well, if you can’t help us, that’s that,” she said, getting to her feet. “No problem. A favor’s not a favor if you have to be argued into it. C’mon, Hot Stuff. We’re wasting our time and theirs.”

  Though in part I agreed with her, desperation prompted me to make one last try.

  “Not so fast, Massha. Drahcir is right. Time’s money. Maybe we could work out some kind of a fee to compensate them for their time in helping us. Then it’s not a favor, it’s a business deal. Face it, we really need their help in this. The odds of us finding this Vic character on our own are pretty slim.”

  Aahz would have fainted dead away if he had heard me admitting how much we needed help before the fee was set, but that reaction was nothing compared to how the Woof Writers took my offer.

  “What did you say?” Drahcir demanded, rising to all fours with his ears back.

  “I said that maybe you’d help us if we offered to pay you,” I repeated, backing away slightly. “I didn’t mean to insult you ...”

  “You can’t insult Drahcir with money,” his wife snapped. “He meant what did you say about Vic?”

  “Didn’t I mention him before?” I frowned. “He’s the vampire that Aahz is supposed to have ...”

  There was a sudden loud flapping sound in the rafters above our heads, like someone noisily shaking a newspaper to scare a cat off a table. It worked ... not on the cat (I don’t think the werewolves owned one) but on Massha and me. My apprentice hit the floor, covering her head with her hands, while I, more used to sudden danger and being more svelte and agile, dove beneath the coffee table.

  By the time we recovered from our panicky ... excuse me, our shrewd defensive maneuvers, there was nothing to see except the vague shape of someone with huge wings disappearing out the front door.

  “This one’s all yours, dear,” Drahcir said firmly, his posture erect and unmoved despite the sudden activity.

  “Come on, honey,” his wife pleaded. “You’re so much better at explaining things. You’re supposed to help me out when it comes to talking to people.”

  “It’s a skill I polished at those personal appearances you’re so critical of,” he retorted stiffly.

  “Would somebody tell me what’s going on?” I said in tones much louder than I usually use when I’m a guest in someone’s home.

  Before I could get an answer, the door burst open again utterly destroying what little was left of my nervous system.

  “Hey, Boss! Did you s—se—Wha—wa ...”

  “Outside, Guido!” I ordered, glad to have someone I could shout at without feeling guilty. “Blow your nose ... and I’m fine, thanks! Nice of you to ask!”

  By the time my bodyguard had staggered back outside, his face half buried in a handkerchief, I had managed to regain most of my composure.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” I said as nonchalantly as I could, “but my colleague does raise an interesting question. What was that?”

  “Scary?” Massha suggested.

  Apparently she had recovered her composure a little better than I had. I closed my eyes and reflected again on the relative value of cheeky apprentices.

  “That,” Drahcir said loftily, barely in time to keep me from my assistant’s throat, “was Vic ... one of my wife’s weird artist friends who dropped in unannounced for a prolonged stay and, unless I miss my guess, the criminal you’re looking for who framed your partner.”

  “He wasn’t really a friend of mine,” Idnew put in in a small voice. “Just a friend of a friend, really. Weird artist types tend to stick together and pass around the locations of crash spaces. He was just another charity case down on his luck who ...”

  “... who is currently winging his way back to his accomplice with the news that we’re on their trail,” I finished with a grimace.

  “Isn’t that ‘accomplices’ as in plural?” Massha asked softly.

  I ignored her.

  “Oh, Drahcir,” Idnew said, “now we have to help them. It’s the only way we can make up for having provided a hideout for the very person they were trying to find.”

  “If I might point out,” her husband replied, “we’ve barely met these people. We don’t really owe them an explanation, much less any help. Besides, you still have a deadline to meet and ...”

  “Drahcir!” Idnew interrupted. “It could get real lonely sleeping in the old kennel while I work day and night on a deadline, if you catch my meaning.”

  “Now, dear,” Drahcir said, sidling up to his wife, “before you go getting into a snit, hear me out. I’ve been thinking it over and I think there’s a way we can provide assistance without biting into our own schedules. I mean, we do have a friend ... one who lives a little north of here ... who’s temporarily between assignments and could use the work. I’m sure he’d be willing to do a little tracking for them at a fraction of the fee that we’d charge for the same service.”

  He was obviously talking in the veiled references partners use to communicate or check ideas in front of strangers, as his words went completely over my head, but drew an immediate reaction from Idnew.

  “Oh, Drahcir!” she exclaimed excitedly, all trace of her earlier anger gone. “That’s perfect! And he’ll just love Massha.”

  “There’s still the question of whether or not we can get him here in time,” her husband cautioned. “And of course I’ll want a percentage off the top as a finder’s fee ...”

  “WHAT!” I exclaimed.

  “I agree,” Idnew said firmly. “A finder’s fee is totally ...”

  “No! Before that,” I urged. “What did you say about there not being enough time? I thought the execution wasn’t scheduled until the end of the week!”

  “That’s right,” Drahcir said. “But the end of the week is tomorrow. Your friend is slated to be executed at high midnight.”

  “C’mon, Massha,” I ordered, heading for the door. “We’re heading back to Blut.”

  “What for?” she demanded. “What can we do without a tracker?”

  “We’ve tried being nice about this, and it isn’t working,” I responded grimly. “Now we do it the other way. You wanted action, apprentice? How do you feel about giving me a hand with a little jailbreak?”

  BUT I’M TELLING you, Boss, jailbreak is a bad rap. With you operating at only half power in the magic department, there’s no tellin’ what can go wrong, and then ...”

 
“Before we get all worked up about what can go wrong, Guido,” I said, trying to salvage something constructive out of the conversation, “could you give me a little information on exactly how hard it is to break someone out of jail? Or haven’t you been involved in any jailbreaks, either?”

  “Of course I’ve been along on some jailbreaks,” the bodyguard declared, drawing himself up proudly. “I’ve been an accomplice on three jailbreaks. What kind of Mob member do you take me for, anyway?”

  With a heroic effort I resisted the temptation to answer that particular rhetorical question.

  “Okay. So how about a few pointers? This is my first jailbreak, and I want it to go right.”

  I was all set to settle in for a fairly lengthy lecture, but instead of launching into the subject, Guido looked a bit uncomfortable.

  “Umm ... actually, Boss, I don’t think you’d want to use any of the plans I followed. You see, all three of ‘em were busts. None of ‘em worked, and in two of the capers, the guy we were tryin’ to save got killed. That’s how I know about what a bad rap a jailbreak is, know what I mean?”

  “Oh, swell! Just swell! Tell me, Mister Bodyguard, with your allergies and zero-for-three record at jailbreak, did you ever do anything for the Mob that worked?”

  A gentle hand fell on my shoulder from behind.

  “Hey! Ease up a little, High Roller,” Massha said softly. “I know you’re worried about your partner, but don’t take it out on Guido ... or me, either, for that matter. We may not be much, but we’re here and trying to help as best we can when we’d both just as soon be back at the Bazaar. You’re in a bad enough spot without starting a two-front war by turning on your allies.”

  I started to snap at her, but caught myself in time. Instead, I drew a long ragged breath and blew it out slowly. She was right. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point ... which served me right for not following my own advice.

  We were currently holed up at the Dispatcher’s, the only place I could think of for an in-town base of operations, and as soon as we had arrived, I had insisted that both Massha and Guido grab a bit of sleep. We had been going nonstop ever since stepping through the door into Limbo, and I figured that the troops would need all the rest they could get before we tried to spring Aahz. Of course, once I had convinced them of the necessity of racking out, I promptly ignored my own wisdom and stayed up thinking for the duration.

  The rationalization I used for this insane action was that I wanted some extra time uninterrupted to recharge my internal batteries, so whatever minimal magic I had at my disposal would be ready for our efforts. In actuality, what I did was worry. While I had indeed taken part in several criminal activities since teaming up with Aahz, they had all been planned by either Aahz or Tananda. This was my first time to get involved in masterminding a caper, and the stakes were high. Not only Aahz’s but Massha’s and Guido’s futures were riding on my successful debut, and my confidence level was at an all-time low. After much pondering, I had decided to swallow my pride and lean heavily on Guido’s expertise, which was why it hit me so hard when I discovered that he knew even less about successful jailbreaks than I.

  “Sorry, Guido,” I said, trying to restructure my thinking. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “Don’t worry, Boss,” the bodyguard grinned. “I’ve been expectin’ it. All the big operators I’ve worked with get a little crabby when the heat’s on. If anything, your temper get tin’ short is the best thing I’ve seen since we started this caper. That’s why I’ve been so jumpy myself. I wasn’t sure if you weren’t taking the job seriously, or if you were just too dumb to know the kind of odds we were up against. Now that you’re acting normal for the situation, I feel a lot better about how it’s goin’ to come out in the end.”

  Terrific! Now that I was at the end of my rope, our eternal pessimist thought things were going great.

  “Okay,” I said, rubbing my forehead with one finger, “we haven’t got much information to go on, and what we do know is bad. According to Vilhelm, Aahz is being held in the most escape proof cell they have, which is the top floor of the highest tower in town. If we try to take him from the inside, we’re going to have to fool or fight every guard on the way up and down. To me, that means our best bet is to spring him from the outside.”

  My assistants nodded vigorously, their faces as enthusiastic as if I had just said something startlingly original and clever.

  “Now, with my powers at low ebb, I don’t think I can levitate that far and spring the cell. Massha, do you have anything in your jewelry collection that would work for rope and climbing hooks?”

  “N—no,” she said hesitantly, which surprised me. She usually had a complete inventory of her nasty pretties on the tip of her tongue.

  “I saw a coil of rope hangin’ just inside the door,” Guido supplied.

  “I noticed it, too,” I acknowledged, “but it isn’t nearly long enough. We’ll just have to use up my power getting up to the cell and figure some other way of opening the window.”

  “Ummm ... you don’t have to do that, High Roller,” Massha said with a sigh. “I’ve got something we can use.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The belt I’m wearing with all my gear hung on it. It’s a levitation belt. The controls aren’t horribly reliable, but it should do to get us to the top of the tower.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at my apprentice.

  “Wait a minute, Massha. Why didn’t you mention this when I asked?”

  She looked away quickly. “You didn’t ask about a belt. Only about rope and climbing hooks.”

  “Since when do I have to ask you specific questions ... or any questions, for that matter, to get your input?”

  “All right,” she sighed. “If you really want to know, I was hoping we could find a way to do this without using the belt.”

  “Why?”

  “It embarrasses me.”

  “It what?”

  “It embarrasses me. I look silly floating around in the air. It’s okay for skinny guys like you and Guido, but when I try it, I look like a blimp. All I’d need is Goodyear tattooed on my side to make the picture complete.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember that I was tired and that I shouldn’t take it out on my friends. The fact that Massha was worried about appearances while I was trying to figure out a way to get us all out of this alive wasn’t really infuriating. It was ... flattering! That was it! She was so confident of my abilities to get us through this crisis that she had time to think about appearances! Of course, the possibility of betraying that confidence set me off in another round of worrying. Wonderful. “You okay, Boss?”

  “Hmmm? Yeah. Sure, Guido. Okay. Now Massha floats up to the window, which leaves you and me free to ...”

  “Hold it, Hot Stuff,” Massha said, holding up a hand. “I think I’d better explain a little more about this belt. I bought it in an ‘as-is’ rummage sale, and the controls are not all they should be.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, the ‘up’ control works okay, but the ‘altitude’ is shaky so you’re never sure how much you can lift or how high it will go. The real problem, though, is the ‘down’ control. There’s no tapering-off effect, so it’s either on or off.”

  I was never particularly good at technical jargon, but flying was something I knew so I could almost follow her.

  “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” I said. “When you go up, you aren’t sure how much power you’ll have, and when you land ...”

  “... it ain’t gentle,” she finished for me. “Basically, you fall from whatever height you’re at to the ground.”

  “I don’t know much about this magic stuff,” Guido commented dryly, “but that doesn’t sound so good. Why would you use a rig like that, anyway?”

  “I don’t ... at leas
t not for flying,” Massha said. “Remember, I told you I think it makes me look silly? All I use it for is a utility belt ... you know, like Batman? I mean, it’s kind of pretty, and it isn’t easy to find belts in my size.”

  “Whatever,” I said, breaking into their fashion discussion. “We’re going to use it tonight to get up to the cell even if it means rigging some kind of ballast system. Now all we need to figure out is how to open the cell window and a getaway plan. Guido, it occurs to me that we might pick up a few lessons on jailbreaks from your experiences even if they were unsuccessful. I mean, negative examples can be as instructive as positive examples. So tell me, in your opinion what went wrong in the plans you followed in the past?”

  The bodyguard’s brow furrowed as it took on the unaccustomed exercise of thought.

  “I dunno, Boss. It seems that however much planning was done, something always came up that we hadn’t figured on. If I had to hang our failures on anyone thing, I’d say it was just that ... over-planning. I mean, after weeks of lectures and practice sessions, you get a little overconfident, so when something goes wrong you’re caught flatfooted, know what I mean?”

  Nervous as we were, that got a laugh from both Massha and me.

  “Well, that’s one problem we won’t have to worry about,” I said. “Our planning time is always minimal, and for this caper we’re going to have to put it together in a matter of hours.”

  “If you take hours, you’ll never pull it off,” Vilhelm said, entering our planning room just in time to hear my last comment.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Massha growled.

  “Say, are you sure you guys are on the level?” the vampire said, ignoring my apprentice. “It occurs to me that I’ve only got your word on all this ... that Vic is still alive and all. If you’re taking advantage of my good nature to get me involved in something crooked ...”

  “He’s alive,” I assured him. “I’ve seen him myself since we were here last ... but you didn’t answer the question. What was that you were saying about what would happen if we took hours to plan the jailbreak?” The Dispatcher shrugged.