'Ask the king,' I said, hoisting him up into the now-empty litter. 'His royal majesty, King Henryarthurjon of Brakespear.'
'Temolo, of the Council of Wizards,' the Djinn said, extending a hand, which was swallowed up by the king's huge paw. He straightened his spectacles. 'Dear me, there seems to have been a terrible mistake.'
The three remaining riders were in a line directly behind Glory. We five judges flew directly over them, making sure that no funny stuff would happen in the last few minutes of the race. For the first time, I saw Glory slow down slightly. In spite of her excellent condition, she was getting tired. She'd been running all day, a hard feat even for a Brakespearan.
The hunters were alone. The last three big dragons had been clotheslined by an almost invisible wire stretched from the top of one huge, ancient oak on one side of the castle to another. The trees bowed slightly as three adult dragons rammed into the wire, then sprang up taut. The dragons were flung backward, and lay in a heap wondering what had happened to them. Gleep sat down on the ground in front of him to chew mud out of his nails. Nunzio emerged from the crowd of trainers and courtiers to help groom him. His work was done.
But mine wasn't yet. Glory hadn't reached the drawbridge. She was panting with exhaustion. The 'hippuses drew closer, and closer, and closer. The Samiram reached out one long, scaly hand, almost grabbing hold of the running girl's long tail of blond hair.
Suddenly, I lost my grip on the Samiram's dragon-control device that I was holding. It fell out of my hands and landed on his head. He bellowed a curse. The 'hippus between his knees, sensing a change, slowed a little. The Samiram looked up at me, his tongue flicking furiously.
'Oops.' I said, holding my hands up to my shoulders. 'Sorry.'
Glory and the other two were by now far ahead. A hundred yards. Eighty. Sixty. The castle courtiers were lined up on the battlements yelling encouragement to their princess. Forty. Twenty. She was going to make it. I was afraid to breathe.
Suddenly, Alf, the Deveel, threw a handful of powder into Bosheer's face.
'Ten points off!' Carisweather boomed. And, mysteriously (my fingers were crossed), the cloud of dust rolled back into Alf s face, never touching the Prince. Alf went into a coughing and sneezing fit, and fell off his 'hippus.
Ten yards to go. Five. Two. One. Glory's foot was almost on the planks of the drawbridge, when Bosheer's strong arm scooped her up and deposited her onto the withers of his steed.
'Got you, ray lady!' he yelled.
The cheers of the courtiers faded away. Glory looked upset for a moment. Then she looked up into the face of her captor, and grinned.
'Congratulations, my lord.' she breathed. The two of them exchanged glances that left the princess's cheeks even more pink than before. Bosheer's face turned red, and he smiled.
We judges wheeled around the couple on the drawbridge, compared notes, then Carisweather floated a dozen yards up into the air to make an announcement.
'My lords and ladies! I have the honor to announce the winner of today's hunt Prince Bosheer! And here comes his majesty to award him his most desirable prize!'
Over the last rise came the king, followed by Aahz, followed by the 'hippuses carrying the litter with the chest on it. I blinked. The chest was not on it. Instead, it contained a bemused-looking Djinn, and nothing else. Aahz's face was grim. His eyes met mine. The chest had been stolen. In spite of all our precautions, we'd failed.
The king rode over, and though she didn't look in any hurry to get down, helped his daughter dismount from Bosheer's saddle. The king shook hands with the prince, then held up his hands for silence.
'We wish to give thanks to our servants and friends, and especially to our new friend Aahz, who came to our assistance a few moments ago,' he said, indicating me with a hand. 'I'm sorry to say that the prize we'd originally intended to grant this most gracious winner has been foully robbed from our person.' Bosheer looked crestfallen. Henryarthurjon slapped him on the back. 'We apologize most heartily to Prince Bosheer. It would seem that crime may touch even the highest in the land. But this brave and puissant man will not go without a reward. Instead, I shall give him from among my many treasures ...'
Gloriannamarjolie pushed forward, her hand hooked through Bosheer's arm. '... his daughter's hand in marriage!'
'What?' asked her father, then noticed the solid grip Glory had on the Whelf. 'Oh. Jolly good. Yes. My daughter's hand in marriage.'
The crowd cheered. Glory and Bosheer looked radiantly happy.
Massha settled down near me where I stood at the edge of the crowd with my arms crossed. 'Well, all's well that ends well, I guess. I saw sparks shooting between those two even before the race started. I knew he was Mr. Right'
'He's satisfied,' I said, nodding at the prince. 'He got something he liked better than a safe.'
'But what happened to the safe?' she asked. 'You were following the king. How'd someone manage to rob him with you so close?' I scowled No one likes to fail, even if it was in a good cause. Her face softened. She felt sorry for me.
'I didn't see a thing,' I said, impassively. 'It had to have happened when he went into that thick clump of woods on the other side of the hill.'
'Well, did you notice any footprints? Can you tell which way the thieves went?' she demanded.
'Massha,' I said, with infinite patience. 'I came here to do you a favor. I blew it I apologize. You deserve better, but I'm done. No one is paying me to track down a missing treasure chest.'
'Sorry, Big Guy,' Massha said. 'I'm actually happier the way things came out.'
'Me, too,' I agreed. Nunzio and Gleep came up to join us. He and I exchanged comradely nods. Gleep leaped up, aiming for my face with his tongue. I pushed him away. 'Let's go in. I bet they're pouring a toast to the happy couple. I could use a drink.'
'So could I, Hot Stuff,' Massha said, tucking her hand into my arm. 'So could I.'
M.Y.T.H. INC. PROCEEDS
By Jody Lynn Nye
The Klahd with the pinstriped suit coat stretched tight over his massive shoulders accepted the cup of tea offered to him by Bunny. Guido declined cream or sugar, as his habit, which I knew well, dictated. His cousin, Nunzio, not quite so muscular but more affable, accepted both. The fact that both were of a mind to take tea in the sitting room of our renovated inn when they were clearly rushed by other concerns told me how deep those concerns were. I settled myself at their feet to eavesdrop openly upon the proceedings.
'Much obliged,' Guido said, taking a deep draught— less, I believed, to assuage thirst than to get the courtesies out of the way. He was never one for a cup of tea where coffee or ale were also on the menu, and he knew both were to hand. Bunny, who knew his mores, seemed to be using his acceptance of the ritual as a test to find out how desperate the Mob enforcers were to obtain the help of my pet. Bunny was nearly as protective as I of Skeeve's studies. The ruffled white pinafore that the red-haired female wore over her tight, green dress was a concession to her attempt to play hostess as well as guardian, but it did not conceal her voluptuous figure any more successfully than her mannered hospitality hid her annoyance and worry. Guido turned to the lanky, blond- haired male reclining in the chair to his right.
'Like I was sayin', Skeeve ...'
'Cookie?' Bunny asked, handing around a plate of tiny, pink-sugared dainties. Guido obediently reached for one.
In my long study of the lesser species, the ability to juggle a container of hot liquid, a plate of delicate comestibles, and a difficult conversation was the mark of a being with its wits about it Guido passed the test. Nunzio went him one better. When the plate came to him, he selected two of the sweet biscuits, one for himself, and one that he held out on his palm for me. In deference to my pet's affection for this creature, as well as my
