Myth Alliances

Now that I'd said it out loud it did sound like a suicide mission, and it would be one, without the aid of someone who really understood the way Pervects thought. I'd already tried to get in touch with Pookie, a female Pervect who'd worked with us before, but she was off on a mission with another one-time associate named Spider and couldn't be reached. Most likely she'd give us the same advice Aahz had: give up and let the Pervect Ten leave when they felt like it. The Wuhses certainly weren't worse off than when they'd arrived, but I agreed with Wensley that it was better to stand on your own. Pareley deserved to be freed from their yoke.

I felt in my belt pouch for the D-hopper, but to tell the truth I wasn't ready to go back to Klah yet. I didn't have an idea how to proceed. Wensley looked at me with those big sad eyes of his. I just couldn't let him down.

Bunny hadn't said a word. She probably agreed with Aahz. That made me all the more resolute to figure out a way to solve Wensley's problem. That would show everyone that I didn't need a dozen shoulders to lean on, that I could take care of a sticky situation on my own. 'As long as we're here, we may as well get some lunch,' I decided, drawing inspiration from the dusty, aromatic air. 'It would be nice to have a change from home cooking.'

Bunny smiled. 'How about kebabs at Ali Ke-Bob's?'

I crooked my elbow so she could put a hand through it. 'Sounds delicious. How about you, Wensley?'

'Well,' our guest began, very tentatively, though I could see the avid gleam in his eye. 'If it's not too much trouble…'

'I'm next!'

'No, I'm next!'

As we came around the corner into the next street, a crowd all but filled the avenue. Men and women from every dimension I had seen were trying to get into a tent where I knew manuscripts and books were sold. A sign next to the door said 'Autographing Today!' One after another, each person emerged from the throng triumphantly clutching a gaudy hardcover book. I peered at the title as a stout Troll went by with his book open in his huge hand. He studied something on the title page, and a tear rolled down his hairy cheek. I had to jump out of the way because he wasn't looking where he was going.

'Imps Are From Imper, Deveels Are From Deva,' I read from the cover. 'Well, that's obvious. Imps are from Imper. And Deveels are from Deva.'

'Zol Icty!' Bunny cooed suddenly.

'What?'

'That's the author! He writes self-help books. They're, wonderful! I have all of them. Just wait here a moment, Skeeve. If he's here today I have to have a copy signed by him.'

'Sure,' I agreed. Bunny dived into the crowd pushing in at the door. I pulled Wensley out of the way of the excited shoppers to a safe vantage point across the street. As more people came around the comer and saw the sign, they shoved eagerly into the throng, blocking those who were coming out from inside. Yet, strangely, no one seemed to be angry or impatient. Usually if there was a desirable item for sale, teeth, claws and handbags were the weapons of choice to make sure one got one's hands on it. I felt the air for lines of force, but no perceptible magik was in use in the tent. Something else had to be going on to keep everyone in such good spirits.

About an hour passed before Bunny emerged. She had a starry look in her huge, blue eyes. The prized book she held clasped to her chest, which was heaving with sighs of joy.

'Oh, he is so wonderful!' Bunny squealed, breathing deeply. 'Look, Skeeve! See what he wrote in my copy: 'To Bunny. I can tell just by looking at you that you are sensitive and generous. Keep making the best of your splendid attributes so the whole world will benefit. All my dearest wishes, Zol Icty.' I'll treasure it forever!'

In the face of her obvious delight I didn't make the gagging sound that the fulsome dedication evoked from me. 'That's really nice,' I offered. I know my voice sounded a little lame, but Bunny didn't seem to notice.

Wensley turned the book over to reveal a portrait of the author, a little gray man with huge eyes, a thin mouth, a small turned-up nose, delicate little ears, and fine, wavy black hair. I recognized him as a denizen of Kobol, a dimension that had produced notable mathematicians and a technical profession that Aahz called 'come pewter programmers.' Kobolds were known to be very complex thinkers, far ahead of their time. I thought they looked like embryos, except for their coloration. Bunny kept talking about meeting him, the words tumbling out like water going over rapids.

'… And he's studied the people in hundreds of dimensions. He knows all about every one of them, Gnomes, Imps…'

'Pervects?' I said, a thought suddenly striking me. 'Yes, of course,' Bunny said, halting in mid-flow. 'I'm sure he mentioned them. Why?'

'We need an expert,' I said. 'Maybe we can talk to him.'

'That's a wonderful idea!' Bunny beamed at me. 'I'll see if we can take him to lunch!'

With that, she dived back into the fray.

Another twenty or thirty minutes went by, but after the crowd thinned out, Bunny emerged from the book tent with the author in her grasp. The little gray man's head only came to the middle of her ear, but she held on to his arm as though he was the most important man in her uncle's entourage. (Bunny had been brought up to be a moll, but she was wasted in that, er, position.) She performed introductions with the air of a magician presenting her very best illusion. The author's eyes widened as she spoke my name.

'Skeeve the Magnificent,' Zol Icty said, holding out a long, narrow hand to me. 'My, my, I've heard so much about you. And I must say that you live up to my expectations.'

I wasn't wearing the terrifying illusion that I normally did when seeing clients, so all he saw was the blond youth whose face I shaved every day. 'What do you mean?'

'I've heard you're a man of compassion and thoroughness,' the Kobold said, beaming up at me. 'I can just see the generous nature glowing from every pore. I am honored to be in your presence.' I was torn between wanting to throw up and feeling infinitely flattered. Aahz never noticed my compassion or thoroughness. Most of the time he was upset that I didn't grab everything on the table when my opponents were at a loss. 'So what can I do for you?'

THREE

'Let's take this show on the road!'

— m. rooney

I tried to live up to the reputation Zol insisted I had while I outlined our mission over lunch.

We were in a private booth in a very small, dimly lit diner I knew, at some distance from the bookstore, but it was still difficult to have a private conversation. Hundreds of people, one after another, came up to our table with a book held out and a simpering expression on his or her face. Because I was supposed to be compassionate, I tried to hold my temper at each interruption, though it got more and more difficult when I could only squeeze out three or four words before the next one came.

With my position in the Bazaar I could usually depend on a maitre d' to fend off intruders while I dined, but even he, a Deveel in his middle years, was starstruck at the sight of our guest, and did nothing to prevent the crowd of passionate Zol Icty fans from getting in the way of the service of our drinks and food, and of my narrative flow.

The Kobold blinked up wryly at me from the book he was signing for a Gnomish woman whose blue face was flushed a becoming sapphire at the sight of her idol. 'You've been very patient, Master Skeeve,' he assured me, 'but you needn't worry. This is the last one. I only sold 8,736 copies today, and including this, I have now signed them all.'

I gawked at him.

'You counted all of them? You kept track?'