Chapter One:

"There's something to be said for relatives
. . . it has to be said because it's unprint-
able!"

—A. EINSTEIN

This Ace Fantasy Book contains the complete
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It has been completely reset in a typeface
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from new Him.

An Ace Fantasy Book / published by arrangement with
Starblaze Editions of the Donning Company/Publishers

PRINTING HISTORY

Donning edition published 1983
Ace Fantasy edition / September 1985
Second printing / September 1985
Fourth printing / December 1985
Fifth printing / October 1986

All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1983 by Robert L. Asprin.
Cover art by Walter Velez.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address: The Donning Company/Publishers,
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PERHAPS if I hadn't been so preoccupied with my own
thoughts when I walked into my quarters that day, I
wouldn't have been caught unawares. Still, who expects
to get caught in a magikal attack just walking into their
own room?

Okay, okay! So I am the Court Magician of Possil-
tum, and maybe I have been getting a bit of a reputation
lately. I still should be able to walk into my own room
without getting jumped! I mean, if a magician isn't safe
in his own quarters, can he be safe anywhere?

Scratch that question!

It's the kind of thing my teacher says to convince me
that choosing magic for a career path is not the best way
to insure living out one's normal life span. Of course, it
doesn't take much convincing. Actions speak louder
than words, and the action since I signed on as his ap-
prentice has been loud enough to convince me that a
magician's life is not particularly quiet. I mean, when
you realize that within days of meeting him, we both got
lynched by an angry mob ... as in hung by the neck ...

But I digress.

We started out with me simply walking into my room.
Yeah, simple! There was a demon waiting for me, a
Pervect to be exact. This in itself wasn't unusual. Aahz,
the teacher I mentioned earlier, is a Pervect. In fact, he
shares my quarters with me. What was unusual was that
the demon waiting for me wasn't Aahz!

Now I haven't met many Pervects . . . heck, the only
one t know is Aahz . . . but I know Aahz very well, and
this Pervect wasn't him!

This demon was shorter than my mentor, his scales
were-a lighter shade of green, and his gold eyes were set
closer together. What's more, he wasn't smiling ... and
Aahz always smiles, even when he's mad . . . especially
when he's mad. To the average eye Aahz and this
stranger might look alike, but to me they were as dif-
ferent as a Deveel and an Imp. Of course, there was a
time when I couldn't tell the difference between a
Deveel and an Imp. It says something about the com-
pany I've been keeping lately.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"You Skeeve?"

"Yeah. Me Skeeve. Who you?"

For an answer, I suddenly felt myself snatched into
the air by an invisible hand and spun end over end until
I finally stopped dangling head down four feet off the
floor.

"Don't get smart with me, punk. I understand you're
holding a relative of mine in some kind of bondage. I
want him back. Understand?"

He emphasized his point by lowering me to within a
few inches of the floor, then using that surface to rap
my head sharply.

I may not be the greatest magician ever, but I knew
what he was doing. He was using his mind to levitate me
about the room. I've done it myself to small objects
from time to time. Of course, it occurred to me that I
wasn't a small object and that I was dealing with some-
one a bit better versed in the magikal arts than myself.
As such, I deemed it wiser to keep my temper and my
manners.

"You know Aahz?"

"Sure do. And I want him back."

The latter was accompanied by another head rap. So
much for holding my temper.

"Then you should know him well enough to know
that nobody holds him against his will!"

My head started for the floor again, but stopped short
of its target. From my inverted position I could get a
partial view of the demon tapping himself thoughtfully
on the chin.

"That's true," he murmured. "All right...."

I was turned into an upright position once more.

". . . Let's take it from the top. Where's Aahz, and
what's keeping him in this backwater dimension?"

"I think and talk better with my feet on the ground."

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry."

I was lowered into a normal standing position. Now
that I was self-supporting again, I realized the interroga-
tion had left me with a splitting headache.

"He's back in General Badaxe's quarters arguing
military tactics," I managed. "It was so boring I came
back here. He should be along soon. They were almost
out of wine when I left."

"Tactics and wine, eh?" my visitor grimaced. "That
sounds like Aahz. What's the rest of it? Why is he stay-
ing around a nowhere dimension like Klah and how did
he get mixed up with the Great Skeeve?"

"You've heard of me?"

"Here and there around the dimensions," the demon
acknowledged. "In some circles they think you're pretty
hot stuff. That's why I started wondering if you'd
managed to cage Aahz somehow. I was braced for a real
battle royale when you walked in."

"Well, actually I'm not all that good," I admitted.
"I've only really started making headway in the last
couple years since I started studying under Aahz. I'd
still be a total nothing if he hadn't lost his powers and
taken me on as an apprentice."

"Bingo!" my visitor declared, holding up his hand.
"I think you just explained everything. Aahz lost his
powers and took on a new apprentice! No wonder he
hasn't been home in a while. And all this talk about the
Great Skeeve is just a standard Aahz-managed hype job
for a new talent. Right?"

"We have taken on a few rough assignments," I said
defensively.

"In which Aahz choreographed, then set you up to
take the credit. Right?"

"What's 'choreographed'?" I asked. Obviously the
family similarity was more than scale deep.

"Well, I hope you're up to operating on your own,
Skeeve, 'cause I'm taking your mentor back to Perv
with me."

"But you don't have to rescue him from me!" I pro-
tested. "He's free to come and go as he wants;"

"Ym not saving him from you, I'm saving him from
Aahz. Our colleague has an overblown sense of respon-
sibility that isn't always in his own best interest. Do you
know how lucrative a practice he's letting fall apart on
Perv while he clowns around with you?"
"No, "I admitted.

"Well, he's losing money every day he's gone... and
that means the family is losing money."
Right there I gave up the argument. Early on in my
association with Aahz I learned the futility of trying to
talk a Pervect out of money. The fact that Aahz was
willing to sacrifice a steady income to work with me was
an incredible tribute to our friendship ... or his sense of
duty. Of course, there's more than one way to win an
argument.

"Well, as I said before, I can't keep him here," I said
innocently. "If you can convince him he's not needed
anymore...."

"No way, punk," the demon sneered. "We both
know that won't get him to desert an apprentice. I'm
going to lure him back to Perv with a blatant lie. And
.you're going to keep your mouth shut."

"But..."

". . . Because if you don't, I'll make sure there's
nothing left to keep him in Klah . .. meaning you! Now
before you even think about trying to match magik with
me, remember something. You've been studying under
Aahz for a couple years now. / graduated after over
three hundred years of apprenticeship. So far, I'm will-
ing to live and let live. You should be able to earn a liv-
ing on what you've learned so far, maybe even pick up a
few new tricks as you go along. However, if you cross
me now, there won't be enough of you to pick up with a
sponge. Do we understand each other?"

I was suddenly aware why nobody we met in su?

dimension-crawling ever wanted to tangle with a Per-
vect. I was also aware that someone had just walked
into the room behind me.

"Rupert!"

"Uncle Aahz!"

The two pounded each other on the back. I gave them
lots of room.

"Hey kid, this is my nephew Rupert . . . but I see
you've already met."

"Unfortunately," I grumbled.

That earned me a black look from Rupert, but Aahz
missed it completely.

"So what brings you to Klah, nephew? A bit off your
normal prowl pattern, isn't it?"

"It's Dad. He wants you."

"Sorry," Aahz was suddenly his normal self again.
"I've got too many irons in the fire here to get drawn
into some family squabble."

"But he's dying."

That stopped Aahz for a moment.

"My brother? Nonsense. He's too tough to kill. He
could even beat me in an unfair fight."

"He got into a fight with Mom."

A look of concern crossed Aahz's face. I could see he
was wavering.

"That serious, huh? I don't know, though. If he's
really dying, I don't see what I can do to help."

"It shouldn't take long," Rupert urged. "He said
something about his will."

I groaned inwardly. Trust a Pervect to know a
Pervect's weaknesses.

"Well, I guess my business here can keep for a few
days," Aahz declared with false reluctance. "Stay out
of trouble, kid. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Let's get going," Rupert suggested, hiding his
triumphant grin. "The sooner we get to Perv, the
sooner you can be back."

"But Aahz...."

"Yeah, kid?"

I saw Rupert's brow darken.

"I... I just wanted to say 'goodbye.' "

"Hey, don't make a big thing of this, kid. It's not like
I was going forever."

Before I could respond, Rupert clapped an arm
around Aahz's shoulder and they both faded from view.

Gone.

Somehow I couldn't make myself believe it had hap-
pened. My mentor had been spirited away . . . per-
manently. Whatever I had learned from Aahz would
have to do, because now I was totally on my own.

Then I heard a knock at my door.

Chapter Two:

"When things are blackest, I just tell myself
'cheer up, things could be worse!' And
sure enough, they get worse!"

—SKEEVE

I DECIDED that as Court Magician of Possiltum, my
response should be gracious.

"Go away!"

That was gracious. If you knew what my actual
thoughts were. you'd realize that. Very few people ever
visited me in my chambers, and I didn't want to see any
of them just then.

"Do you know who you're talking to?" came a muf-
fled voice from the other side of the door.

"No! And I don't care! Go away!"

"This is Rodrick the Fifth. Your King!"

That stopped me. Upset or not, that title belonged to
the man who set and paid my wages. As I said earlier, I
have learned a few things from Aahz.

"Do you know who you're talking to?" I called back,
and hoped.

There was a moment's pause.

"I assume I'm talking to Skeeve the Magnificent,
Court Magician of Possiltum. At best, he'll be the one
to bear the brunt of my wrath if I'm kept waiting out-
side his chambers much longer."

So much for hoping. These things never work in real
life the way they do in jokes.

Moving with undignified haste, I pounced on the
door handle and wrenched it open.

"Good afternoon. Lord Magician. May I come in?"

"Certainly, Your Majesty," I said, standing aside. "I
never refuse a fifth."

The King frowned.

"Is that a joke? If so, I don't get the point."

"Neither do I," I admitted calmly. "It's something
Aahz my apprentice says."

"Ah, yes. Your apprentice. Is he about?"

Rodrick swept majestically into the room, peering
curiously into the comers as if he expected Aahz to
spring forth from the walls.

"No. He's... out."

"Good. I had hoped to speak with you alone. Hmmm
. . . these are really quite spacious quarters. I don't
recall having been here before."

That was an understatement. Not only had the King
never visited my room in his palace, I couldn't recall
having seen him when he wasn't either on the throne or
in its near vicinity.

"Your Majesty has never graced me with his presence
since I accepted position in his court," I said.

"Oh. Then, that's probably why I don't recall being
here," Rodrick responded lamely.

That in itself was strange. Usually the King was quite
glib and never at a loss for words. In fact, the more I
thought about it, the stranger this royal visit to my
private chambers became. Despite my distress at Aahz's
unplanned and apparently permanent departure, I felt
my curiosity beginning to grow.

"May I ask the reason for this pleasant, though unex-
pected audience?"

"Well. . ." the King began, then shot one more look

about the room. "Are you sure your apprentice isn't
about?"

"Positive. He's ... I sent him on a vacation."
"A vacation?"

"Yes. He's been studying awfully hard lately."

The King frowned slightly.

"I don't remember approving a vacation."

For a moment, I thought I was going to get caught in
my own deception. Then I remembered that in addition
to the various interdimensional languages, Aahz had
also been teaching me to speak ' 'bureaucrat.''

"I didn't really feel your authorization was neces-
sary," I said loftily. "Technically, my apprentice is not
on your Majesty's payroll. I am paying him out of my
wages, which makes him my employee, subject to my
rules including vacations ... or dismissal. While he is
subject to your laws, as is any subject of Possiltum, I
don't feel he actually is governed by Subparagraph G
concerning palace staff!''

My brief oration had the desired effect: it both con-
fused and bored my audience. Aahz would have been
proud of me. I was particularly pleased that I had man-
aged to sneak in that part about dismissals. It meant
that when Aahz didn't return, I could claim that I had
dismissed him without changing the wage paid me by
the crown.

Of course, this got me brooding again about Aahz not
coming back.

"Well, whatever. I'm glad to see your philosophy
regarding vacations mirrors my own. Lord Magician.
Everyone should have a vacation. In fact, that's why I

That opened my eyes. Figuratively and literally.
"You, your Majesty? But Kings don't take vaca-
tions."

"That's the whole point."
Rodrick began pacing the floor nervously as he

spoke.

"The pressures of being a King mount up like they do
on any other job. The difference is that as a King you
never get a break. No time to rest and collect your
thoughts, or even just sleep late. From the coronation
when the crown hits your head until it's removed by
voluntary or forcible retirement, you are the King."

"Gee, that's tough. Your Majesty. I wish there was
something I could do to help."

The King stopped pacing and beamed at me again.

"But you can! That's why I'm here!"

"Me? I can't approve a vacation for you! Even if it
were in my power, and it isn't, the kingdom needs a king
on the throne all the time. It can't spare you, even for
one day!"

"Exactly! That's why I can't leave the throne unat-
tended. If I wanted a vacation, I'd need a stand-in."

An alarm bell went off in my mind.

Now, however much Aahz may have nagged me
about being a slow student, I'm not stupid. Even before
I met Aahz . . . heck, before I learned my letters ... I
knew how to add two and two to get four. In this case,
one two was the king's need for a stand-in; the second
two was his presence in my quarters, and the four
was....

"Surely your Majesty can't mean me!"

"Of course I mean you," Rodrick confirmed. "The
fact is, Lord Magician, I had this in mind when I hired
you to your current position."
"You did?"

I could feel the jaws of the trap closing. If this was in-
deed why the King had hired me, I would be ill-advised
to refuse the assignment. Rodrick might decide my serv-
ices were no longer needed, and the last thing 1 needed
with Aahz gone was to get cut off from my source of in-
come. I wasn't sure what the job market was like for ex-
court magicians, but I was sure I didn't want to find out
first hand.

"As you said earlier, the powers of the Court Magi-
cian are at my disposal, and one of the powers you
demonstrated when we first met was the ability to
change your own shape, or the shape of others, at will."

The disguise spell! It was one of the first spells Aahz
had taught me and one of the ones most frequently used
over our last several adventures. After all the times it's
bailed me out of tight spots, who would have guessed it
would be the spell to get me into trouble? Well, there
was the time it had gotten me hung....

"But, your Majesty, I couldn't possibly substitute for
you. I don't know how to be a King!"

"Nothing to it," Rodrick smiled. "The nice thing
about being a King is that even when you're wrong, no
one dares to point it out."

"But...."

"And besides, it will only be for one day. What could
possibly go wrong in one day?"

Chapter Three:

"Once a knight, always a knight,
But once a King is once too often!"

—SIR BELLA OF EASTMARCH

Now, I don't want you to think I'm a pushover. I drove
a hard bargain with the King before giving in. I not only
managed to get him to agree to a bonus, but to cough up
a hefty percentage in advance before accepting the
assignment. Not bad for a fledgling magician who was
over a barrel.

Of course, once I accepted, I was no longer over a
barrel, I was in over my head!

The more I thought about it, the worse the idea of
standing in for the King seemed. The trouble was, I
didn't have a choice ... or did I? I thought about it
some more and a glimmer of hope appeared.

There was a way out! The only question was, how far
could I run in a day? While not particularly worldly (or
off-worldly for that matter) I was pretty sure that
double-crossing kings wasn't the healthiest of pastimes.

It was going to be a big decision, definitely the biggest
I ever had to make on my own. The King (or to be exact,
his stand-in) wasn't due to make an appearance until
noon tomorrow, so I had a little time to mull things
over. With that in mind, I decided to talk it out with my
last friend left in the palace.          
                
"What do you think, Gleep? Should I take it on the
lam, or stick around and try to bluff it out for one day
asking?"

The response was brief and to the point.

"Gleep!"

For those of you who've tuned in to this series late,

Gleep is my pet. He lives in the Royal Stables. He's also
a twenty-foot long blue dragon ... half grown. (I shud-
der to think what he'll be like when he's fully grown!
Groan!) As to his witty conversation, you'll have to
forgive him. He only has a one-word vocabulary, but he
makes up for it by using that word a lot. Wordy or not,
I turned to him in this moment of crisis because with
Aahz gone, he was the only one in this dimension who
would be even vaguely sympathetic to my problem.
That in itself says a lot about the social life of a magi-
cian.

"Come on, Gleep, get serious. I'm in real trouble. If I

try to stand in for the King, I might make a terrible
mistake . . . like starting a war or hanging an innocent
man. On the other hand, if I double-cross the King and
disappear, you and I would spend the rest of our lives as
hunted fugitives."

The unicorn in the next stall snorted and stamped a
foot angrily.

"Sorry, Buttercup. The three of us would be hunted
fugitives."

War unicorns aren't all that common, even in Royal
Stables. That particular war unicorn was mine. I ac-
quired him as a gift shortly after I acquired Gleep. As I
said before, this life-style is more than a little zooish.

"In a kingdom with a bad king, a lot of people would
get hurt." I reasoned, "and I'd be a terrible king. Heck,
I'm not all that good a magician."

"Gleep," my pet argued sternly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it's true. I
don't want to hurt anybody, but I'm not wild about
being a hunted fugitive, either."

Tired of verbalizing his affection, Gleep decided to
demonstrate his feelings by licking my face. Now, aside
from leaving a slimy residue, my dragon's kisses have
one other side effect. His breath is a blast of stench ex-
ceeded only by the smell of Pervish cooking.

"G . . . Gleep, old boy," I managed at last, "I love
you dearly, but if you do that twice a week, we may part
company ... permanently!"

"Gleep?"

That earned me a hurt expression, which I erased
simply enough by scratching his head. It occurred to me
that dragons had survived because each of them only
became emotionally attached to one being in its lifetime.
If their breath reached the entire population instead of a
single individual, they would have been hunted into ex-
tinction long ago. No, it was better that only one person
should suffer than ...

Another part of my mind grabbed that thought and
started turning it over.

"If I run, then I'll be the only one in trouble, but if I
try to be king, the whole kingdom suffers! That's it! I
have to leave. It's the only decent thing to do. Thanks,
Gleep!"

"Gleep?"

My pet cocked his head in puzzlement.

"I'll explain later. All right. It's decided. You two
stock up on food while I duck back to my room to get a
few things. Then it's 'Goodbye, Possiltum!' "

I've had pause to wonder what would have happened
if I'd followed my original plan: just headed for my
room, gathered up my belongings, and left. The timing
for the rest of the evening would have changed, and the
rest of this story would have been totally different. As it
was, I made a slight detour. Halfway to my room,
Aahz's training cut in. That is, I started thinking about
money.

Even as a hunted fugitive, money would come in
handy . . . and the King's advance would only last so
long. With a little extra cash, I could run a lot farther,
hide a lot longer ... or at the very least live a lot
better. ...

Buoyed by these thoughts, I went looking for J. R.
Grimble.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer and I had never
been what you would call close friends. Blood enemies
would be a better description. Aahz always maintained
that this was because of my growing influence in court.
Not so. The truth was that my mentor's greed for addi-
tional funding was surpassed only by Grimble's reluc-
tance to part with the same. Literally the same, since my
wages came out of those coffers so closely guarded by
the Chancellor.

I found him, as expected, in the tiny cubicle he used
for an office. Scuttlebutt has it he repeatedly refused
larger rooms, trying desperately to impress the rest of
the staff by setting an example of frugality. It didn't
work, but he kept trying and hoping.

His desk was elbow deep in paper covered by tiny
little numbers which he alternately peered at and
changed while moving various sheets from stack to
stack. There were similar stacks on the floor and on the
only other available chair, leading me to believe he had
been at his current task for some time. Seeing no avail-
able space for sitting or standing, I elected to lean
against the door frame.

"Working late, Lord Chancellor?"

That earned me a brief, dark glare before he returned
to his work.

"If I were a magician, I'd be working late. As
Chancellor of the Exchequer, these are my normal
hours. For your information, things are going rather
smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, I may be able to wrap
up early tonight, say in another three or four hours."

"What are you working on?"

"Next year's Budget and Operating Plan, and it's
almost done. That is, providing someone doesn't want
to risk incurring my permanent disfavor by trying to
change a number on me at the last minute."

The last was accompanied by what can only be
described as a meaningful stare.

I ignored it.

I mean, what the heck! I was already on his bad side,
so his threats didn't scare me at all.

"Then it's a good thing I caught you before you
finished your task," I said nonchalantly. "I want to
discuss something with you that will undoubtedly have
an impact on your figures. Specifically, a change in my
pay scale."

"Out of the question!" Grimble exploded. "You're
already the highest paid employee on the staff, includ-
ing myself. It's outrageous that you would even think of
asking for a pay increase."

"Not a pay increase. Lord Chancellor, a pay cut."

That stopped him.

"A pay cut?"

"Say, down to nothing."

He leaned back in his chair and regarded me suspi-
ciously.

"I find it hard to believe that you and your apprentice
are willing to work for nothing. Forgive me, but I
always distrust noble sacrifice as a motive. Though I
dislike greed, at least it's a drive I can understand."

"Perhaps that's why we've always gotten along so
well," I purred. "However, you're quite right. I have
no intention of working for free. I was thinking of leav-
ing the court of Possiltum to seek employment else-
where."

The chancellor's eyebrows shot up.

"While I won't argue your plan, I must admit it sur-
prises me. I was under the impression you were quite
enamored of your position here in 'a soft job,' I believe
is how your scaly apprentice describes it. What could
possibly entice you to trade the comforts of court life
for an uncertain future on the open road?"

"Why, a bribe, of course," I smiled. "A lump sum of
a thousand gold pieces."

"I see," Grimble murmured softly. "And who's of-
fering this bribe, if I might ask?"

I stared at the ceiling.

"Actually, I was rather hoping that, you would."

There was a bit of haggling after that, but mostly on
the terms of our agreement. Grimble really wanted
Aahz and me out of his accounts, though I suspect he
would have been less malleable if he had realized he was
only dealing with me. There was a bit of name calling
and breast beating, but the end result is what counts,
and that end result was my heading for my quarters, a
thousand gold pieces richer in exchange for a promise
that it was the last money I would ever receive from
Grimble. It was one more reason for my being on my
way as soon as possible.

With light heart and heavy purse, I entered my
quarters.

Remember the last time I entered my quarters? How
there was a demon waiting for me? Well, it happened
again.

Now don't get me wrong. This isn't a regular oc-
currence in my day-to-day existence. One demon show-
ing up unannounced is a rarity. Two demons . . . well,
no matter how you looked at it, this was going to be a
red-letter day in my diary.

Does it seem to you I'm stalling? I am. You see, this
demon I knew, and her name was Massha!

"Well hel-lo, high roller! I was just in the neighbor-
hood and thought I'd stop by and say 'Hi!' "

She started forward to give me a hug, and I hastily
moved to put something immobile between us. A 'hi!'
and a hug might not sound like a threat to you. If not,
you don't know Massha!

I have nothing against hello hugs. I have another
demon friend named Tananda (yes, I have a lot of
demon friends these days) whose hello hugs are high
points in my existence. Tananda is cute, curvaceous,
and cuddly. Okay, so she's also an assassin, but her
hello hugs can get a rise out of a statue.

Massha, on the other hand, is not cute and cuddly.
Massha is immense . . . and then some. I didn't doubt
the sincere goodwill behind her greeting. I was just
afraid that if she hugged me, it would take days to find
my way out again ... and I had a getaway to plan.

"Um ... Hi, Massha. Good to see you ... all of
you."

The last time I had seen Massha, she was disguised as
a gaudy circus tent, except it wasn't a disguise. It was
actually the way she dressed. This time, though, she had
apparently kicked out the jams ... along with her entire
wardrobe and any modicum of good taste. Okay, she
wasn't completely naked. She was wearing a leopard-
skin bikini, but she was showing enough flesh for four
normal naked people. A bikini, her usual wheelbarrow
full of jewelry, light green lipstick that clashed with her
orange hair, and a tattoo on her bicep. That was
Massha. Class all the way.

"What brings you to Klah? Aren't you still working
Jahk?" I asked, mentioning the dimension where we
met.

"The boys will just have to work things out without
me for a while. I'm on a little... vacation."

There was a lot of that going around.

"But what are you doing here?"

"Not much for small talk, are you? I like that in a
man."

My skin started to crawl a little on that last bit, but
she continued.

"Well. . . while I'm here, I thought I'd take another
little peek at your General Badaxe, but that's not the
real reason for my visit. I was hoping you and me could
talk a little... business."

My life flashed before my eyes. For a moment,
neither Aahz's departure nor the King's assignment was
my biggest problem ... pun intended.

"Me?" I managed at last.

"That's right, hot stuff. I've been giving it a lot of
thought since you and your scaly green sidekick rolled
through my territory, and yesterday I made up my
mind. I've decided to sign on as your apprentice."

Chapter Four:

"Duty: A fee paid for transacting in
good(s)."

—U.S. DEPT. OF COMMERCE

"BUT your Majesty, he promised me he'd pay the other
half before spring, and ..."

"I did not."

"Did too."

"Liar!"

"Thief!"

"Citizens," I said, "I can only listen to one side at a
time. Now then, you! Tell me what you remember being
said."

That's right. / said. There I was, sitting on the very
throne I had decided to avoid at all cost.

Actually, this king business wasn't all that rough.
Rodrick had briefed me on basic procedure and pro-
vided me with a wardrobe, and from there it was fairly
simple. The problems paraded before me weren't all
that hard to solve, but there were lots of them.

At first I was scared, then for a while it was fun. Now
it was just boring. I had lost count of how many cases I
had listened to, but I had developed a new sympathy for
Rodrick's desire to get away for a while. I was ready for
a vacation before lunch rolled around. It was beyond
my comprehension how he had lasted for years of this
nonsense.

You may wonder how I went from talking with
Massha to sitting on the throne. Well, I wonder myself
from time to time, but here's what happened as near as I
can reconstruct it.

Needless to say, her request to work as my apprentice
caught me unprepared.

"M ... my ... but Massha. You already have a job
as a court magician. Why would you want to apprentice
yourself tome?"

In response, Massha heaved a great sigh. It was a
startling phenomenon to watch. Not just because there
was so much of Massha moving in so many different
directions, but because when she was done, she seemed
to have deflated to nearly half her original size. She was
no longer an imposing figure, just a rather tired looking
fat woman.

"Look, Skeeve," she said in a low voice that bore no
resemblance to her normal vampish tones. "If we're
going to work together, we've got to be honest with each
other. Court magician or not, we both know that I don't
know any magik. I'm a mechanic ... a gimmick freak.
I've got enough magik baubles to hold down a job, but
any bozo with a big enough bankroll could buy the same
stuff at the Bazaar at Deva.

"Now, mind you, I'm not complaining. Old
Massha's been kicked around by some of the best and
nobody's ever heard her complain. I've been happy with
what I have up to now. It's just when I saw you and
your rat pack put one over on both city-states at the Big
Game with some real magik, I knew there was some-
thing to learn besides how to operate gimmicks. So
whattaya say? Will you help me learn a little of the stuff
I really got into the magik biz for?"

Her honesty was making me more than a little un-
comfortable. I wanted to help her, but I sure didn't
want an apprentice right now. I decided to stall.

"Why did you choose magik for a profession,
anyway?"

That got me a sad smile.

"You're sweet, Skeeve, but we were going to be
honest with each other, remember? I mean, look at me.
What am I supposed to do for a living? Get married and
be a housewife? Who would have me? Even a blind man
could figure out in no time flat that I was more than he
had bargained for ... a lot more. I resigned myself to
the way I look a long time ago. I accepted it and covered
up any embarrassment I felt with loud talk and flam-
boyant airs. It was only natural that a profession like
magik that thrives on loud talk and flamboyant airs
would attract me."

"We aren't all loud talk," I said cautiously.

"I know," she smiled. "You don't have to act big
because you've got the clout to deliver what you prom-
ise. It impressed me on Jahk, and everyone I talked to at
the Bazaar on Deva said the same thing. 'Skeeve doesn't
strut much, but don't start a fight with him.' That's why
I want you for my teacher. I already know how to talk
loud."

Honesty and flattery are a devastating one-two
punch. Whatever I thought about her before, right now
Massha had me eating out of the palm of her hand.
Before I committed myself to anything I might regret
later, I decided to try fighting her with her own
weapons.

"Massha . . . we're going to be honest with each
other, right? Well, I can't accept you as an apprentice
right now for two reasons. The first is simple. I don't
know that much magik myself. No matter what kind of
scam we pull on the paying customers, including the
ones on Deva, the truth is that I'm just a student. I'm
still learning the business myself."

"That's no problem, big bwana," Maasha laughed,
regaining some of her customary composure. "Magik is
like that: the more you learn, the more you find there is
to know. That's why the really big guns in our business
spend all their time closeted away studying and practic-
ing. You know some magik, and that's some more than
I know. I'll be grateful for anything you're willing to
teach me."

"Oh." I said, a bit surprised that my big confession
hadn't fazed her at all. "Well, there's still the second
reason."

"And that is?"

"... That I'm in a bit of trouble myself. In fact, I
was just getting ready to sneak out of the kingdom when
you showed up."

A small frown wrinkled Massha's forehead.

"Hmm . . ." she said, thoughtfully. "Maybe you'd
better give me some of the details of this trouble you're
in. Sometimes talking it out helps, and that's what ap-
prentices are for."

"They are?" I countered skeptically. "I've been ap-
prenticed twice, and I don't remember either of the
magicians I studied under confiding in me with their
problems."

"Well, that's what Massha's for. Listening happens
to be one of the few things I'm really good at. Now give.
What's happened to put a high-stepper like you on the
run?"

Seeing no easy alternative, I told her about the King's
assignment and my subsequent deal with Grimble. She
was right. She was an excellent listener, making just
enough sympathetic noise to keep me talking without
actually interrupting my train of thought.

When I finally wound down, she sighed and shook
her head.

"You're right. You've got a real problem there. But
I think there are a few things you've overlooked in
reaching your final decision."

"Such as...?"

"Well, first, you're right. A bad king is worse than a
good king. The problem is that a bad king is better than
no king at all. Roddie Five is counting on you to fill his
chair tomorrow, and if you don't show up, the whole
kingdom goes into a panic because the king has disap-
peared."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," I admitted.

"Then there's the thing with Grimble. We all pick up
a little extra cash when we can, but in this case if it
comes out that Grimble paid you to skip out when the
King was counting on you, his head goes on the chop-
ping block for treason."

I closed my eyes.

That did it. It was bad enough to hurt the faceless
masses, but when the mass had a face, even if it was
Grimble's, I couldn't let him face a treason charge
because of my cowardice.

"You're right," I sighed. "I'm going to have to sit in
for the King tomorrow."

' 'With me as your apprentice?''

"Ask me after tomorrow ... if I'm still alive. In the
meantime, scurry off and say 'Hello' to Badaxe. I know
he'll be glad to see you."

"Your Majesty?"

I snapped back to the present, and realized the two
arguers were now looking at me, presumably to render a
decision.

"If I understand this case correctly," I stalled, "both
of you are claiming ownership of the same cat. Cor-
rect?"

Two heads bobbed in quick agreement.

"Well, if the two of you can't decide the problem be-
tween you, it seems to me there's only one solution. Cut
the cat in two and each of you keep half."

This was supposed to inspire them to settle their dif-
ference with a quick compromise. Instead they thanked
me for my wisdom, shook hands, and left smiling,
presumably to carve up their cat.

It occurred to me, not for the first time today, that
many of the citizens of Possiltum don't have both oars
in the water. What anyone could do with half a dead
cat, or a whole dead cat for that matter, was beyond me.

Suddenly I was very tired. With an offhanded wave I
beckoned the herald forward.

"How many more are waiting out there?" I asked.

"That was the last. We deliberately kept the case load
light today so your Majesty could prepare for tomor-
row."

"Tomorrow?"

The question slipped out reflexively. Actually, I
didn't really care what happened tomorrow. My assign-
ment was done. I had survived the day, and tomorrow
was Rodrick's problem.

"Yes, tomorrow ... when your bride arrives."

Suddenly I was no longer tired. Not a bit. I was wide
awake and listening with every pore.

"My bride?" I asked cautiously.

"Surely your Majesty hasn't forgotten. She specific-
ally scheduled her arrival so that she would have a week
to prepare for your wedding."

Case load be hanged. Now I knew why dear Rodrick
wanted a vacation. I also knew, with cold certainty, that
he wouldn't be back tonight to relieve me of my duties.
Not tonight, and maybe not ever.

Chapter Five:

"The only thing worse than a sorcerer is a
sorcerer's apprentice."

—M. MOUSE

FOR once, I successfully suppressed the urge to panic. I
had to! Without Aahz around to hold things together
until I calmed down, I couldn't afford hysterics.

Instead, I thought. .. and thought.

I was in a jam, and no matter how I turned it over in
my mind, it was going to take more than just me to get
out of it.

I thought of Massha.

Then I thought about suicide.

Then I thought about Massha again.

With firm resolve and weak knees, I made my deci-
sion. The question was, how to locate Massha? The
answer came on the heels of the question. Standing in
for the king had been nothing but a pain so far. It was
about time I started making it work for me for a change.

"Guard!"

A uniformed soldier materialized by the throne with
impressive speed.

"Yes, your Majesty?"

31

32 

"Pass the word for General Badaxe. I'd like to see
him."

"Umm . . . begging your Majesty's pardon. He's with
a lady just now."

"Good. I mean, bring them both."

"But..."

"Now."

"Yes, your Majesty!"

The guard was gone with the same speed with which
he had appeared.

I tried not to grin. I had never gotten along particu-
larly well with the military of Possiltum. Of course, the
fact that my first exposure to them was when Aahz and I
were hired to fight their war for them might have some-
thing to do with it. Anyway, the thought of some poor
honor guard having to interrupt his general's tete-
a-tete was enough to make me smile, the first in several
days.

Still, sending a guard to fetch the person I wanted to
see was certainly better than chasing them down myself.
Perhaps being a king did have its advantages.

Two hours later, I was still waiting. In that time, I
had more than ample opportunity to reconsider the
benefit of issuing kingly summons. Having sent for
Badaxe, I was obligated to wait for him in the throne
room until he appeared.

At one point I considered the horrible possibility that
he had taken Massha riding and that it might be days
before they were located. After a little additional
thought, I discarded the idea. There wasn't a steed in
the Kingdom, including Gleep, who could carry Massha
more than a few steps before collapsing.

I was still contemplating the image of Massha, sitting
indignant on the ground with horse's legs protruding

             33

grotesquely from beneath her rump, when the herald
sprang into action.

"Now comes General Badaxe ... and a friend."

With that, the man stood aside. Actually, he took
several sideways steps to stand aside.

I've already described Massha's bulk. Well, Hugh
Badaxe wasn't far behind her. What he lacked in girth,
he made up for in muscle. My initial impression of the
General remained unchanged; that he had won his rank
by taking on the rest of the army . . . and winning. Of
course, he was wearing his formal bearskin, the clean
one, which made him appear all the larger. While I had
been there when they met, I had never actually seen
Badaxe and Massha standing side by side before. The
overall effect was awe-inspiring. Together, they might
have been a pageant of a barbarian invasion gone deca-
dent ... if it weren't for the General's axe. His name-
sake, a huge, double-bitted hand axe, rode comfortably
in its customary place on the General's right hip, and
the glitter from it wasn't all decorative. Here, at least,
was one barbarian who hadn't let decadence go to his
sword arm.

"Your Majesty."

Badaxe rumbled his salutation as he dropped to one
knee with an ease that denied his size. One could almost
imagine the skull of a fallen enemy crackling sharply
beneath that descending knee. I forced the thought from
my mind.

"Greetings, General. Won't you introduce me to
your . . . companion?"

"I ... certainly, your Majesty. May I present
Massha, Court Magician of Ta-hoe, and friend of both
myself and Lord Skeeve, Magician to your own court
here at Possiltum."

34 

"Charmed, your Majesty."

I realized with a start that Massha was about to at-
tempt to imitate Badaxe by dropping to one knee. Even
if she were able to execute such a maneuver, it would re-
quire sufficient effort as to invite ridicule from the other
court retainers present . . . and somehow I didn't want
that.

"Ah . .. there is no need for that," I asserted hastily.
"It was not our intention to hold formal court here, but
rather an informal social occasion."

That caused a minor stir with the court, including the
general who frowned in slight puzzlement. Still, I was
already committed to a line of conversation, so I
blundered on.

"In fact, that was the only reason for the summons. I
wished to meet the lady dazzling enough to lure our
general from his usual position by my side."

"Your Majesty gave his permission for my absence
today," the general protested.

"Quite right. As I said, this is a social gathering only.
In fact, there are too many people here for casual con-
versation. It is our wish that the court be adjourned for
the day and the room cleared that I might speak freely
with this visiting dignitary."

Again there was a general ripple of surprise, but a
royal order was a royal order, and the various retainers
bowed or curtsied to the throne and began making their
way out.

"You too. General. I would speak with Massha
alone."

Badaxe began to object, but Massha nudged him in
the ribs with an elbow, a blow which would have been
sufficient to flatten most men, but was barely enough to
gain the general's attention. He frowned darkly, then
gave a short bow and left with the others.

             35

"So, you're a friend of our lord Magician," I asked
after we were finally alone.

"I have that . . . honor, your Majesty," Massha
replied cautiously. "I hope he's... well?"

"As a matter of fact, he's in considerable trouble
right now."

Massha heaved a great sigh.

"I was afraid of that. Something to do with his last
assignment?"

I ignored the question.

"General Badaxe seems quite taken with you. Are
you sure you want to stay in the magik biz? Or are you
going to try your hand at a new lifestyle?"

Massha scowled at me.

"Now how did you hear that? You haven't been tor-
turing your own magician, have you?"

I caught the small motion of her adjusting her rings,
and decided the time for games was over.

"Hold it, Massha! Before you do anything, there's
something I have to show you."

"What's that?"

I had already closed my eyes to remove my disguise
spell... faster than I ever had before.

"Me," I said, opening my eyes again.

"Well, I'll be ... you really had me going there, hot
stuff."

"It was just a disguise spell," I waved off-handedly.

"Nice. Of course, it almost got you fried. Why didn't
you let me know it was you?"

"First of all, I wanted to see if my disguise spell was
good enough to fool someone who was watching for it.
This is my first time to try to disguise my voice as well as
my appearance. Secondly . . . well, I was curious if you
had changed your mind about being my apprentice."

"But why couldn't you have just asked me ... I see.

36 

You're really in trouble, aren't you? Bad enough that
you didn't want to drag me into an old promise. That's
nice of you, Skeeve. Like I said before, you run a class
act."

"Anybody would have done the same thing," I
argued, trying to hide my embarrassment at her praise.

She snorted loudly.

"If you believed that, you wouldn't have survived as
long as you have. Anyway, apprentice or not, a friend is
a friend. Now out with it. What's happened?"

Sitting on the steps to the throne, I filled her in about
the forthcoming wedding and my suspicions about the
king's conveniently scheduled vacation. I tried to sound
casual and matter-of-fact about it, but towards the end
my tone got rather flat.

When I was done, Massha gave a low whistle of sym-
pathy.

"When you big leaguers get in trouble, you don't kid
around, do you? Now that you've filled me in, I'll admit
I'm a little surprised you're still here."

I grimaced.

"I'm a little slow from time to time, but you only
have to lecture me once. If one day without a king is bad
for a kingdom, a permanent disappearance could be
disastrous. Anyway, what I need right now is someone
to track down the real king and get him back here, while
I keep bluffing from the throne."

Massha scowled.

"Well, I've got a little trinket that could track him,
if you've got something around that he's worn, that
is...."

"Are you kidding? You think court magicians dress
this way in Possiltum? Everything I'm wearing and two
more closetsful in his quarters belong to the king."

            37

". .. But what I can't figure out is why you need me?
Where's your usual partner . .. whatsisname .. . Aahz?
It seems to me he'd be your first choice for a job like
this. Wherever he is, can't you just pop over to that
dimension and pull him back for a while?"

Lacking any other option, I decided to resort to the
truth, both about Aahz's permanent departure and my
own lack of ability to travel the dimensions without a D-
Hopper. When I was done, Massha was shaking her
head.

"So you're all alone and stranded here and you were
still going to give me an out instead of pressuring me
into helping? Well, you got my help, mister, and you
don't have to bribe me with an apprenticeship, either.
I'll get your king back for you . . . before that wedding.
Then we'll talk about apprentices."

I shook my head.

"Right idea, but wrong order. I wasn't going to bribe
you with an apprenticeship, Massha. I told you before I
don't know much magik, but what I know I'll be glad to
teach you . .. whether you find the King or not. I'm not
sure that's an apprenticeship, but it's yours if you want
it."

She smiled, a smile quite different from her usual
vamp act.

"We'll argue about it later. Right now, I've got a king
to find."

"Wait a minute! Before you go, you're pretty good
with gadgets, right? Well, I've got a D-Hopper in my
quarters. I want you to show me two settings: the one
for Deva, and the one for Klah. You see, I'm not all that
noble. If things get too rough or it takes you longer than
a week to find the king, I want a little running room. If
I'm not here when you get back, you can look for your

38 

'noble' Skeeve at the Yellow Crescent Inn at the Bazaar
atDeva."

Massha snorted.

"You're putting yourself down again. Hot Stuff.
You're going to try before you run, which is more than I
can say for most in our profession. Besides, whatever
you think your motives are, they're deeper than you
think. You just asked me to show you two settings. You
only need one to run."

Chapter Six:

"Good information is hard to get. Doing
anything with it is even harder!"

—L. SKYWALKER

I HAD long since decided that the main requirement for
Royalty or its impersonators was an immunity to bore-
dom. Having already chronicled the true tedious nature
of performing so-called "duties of state," I can only
add that waiting to perform them is even worse.

There was certainly no rush on my part to meet the
king's bride-to-be, much less marry her. After word had
come that her arrival would be delayed by a full day,
however, and as the day waxed into late afternoon
waiting for her "early morning" reception, I found
myself wishing that she would get here so we could meet
and get it over with already.

All other royal activity had ground to a halt in an ef-
fort to emphasize the importance of Possiltum's greet-
ing their queen-to-be. I hardly thought it was necessary,
though, as the citizens decked the street with flowers
and lined up three deep in hopes of catching a glimpse
of this new celebrity. The wait didn't seem to dampen
their spirits, though the flowers wilted only to be period-
ically replaced by eager hands. If nothing else, this

39

40

reception was going to put a serious dent in Possiltum's
flower crop for awhile. Of course, it might also put a
dent in all our crops, for the streets remained packed
with festive people who showed not the slightest inclina-
tion to return to their fields or guild shops when word
was passed of each new delay.

"Haven't the citizens anything better to do with their
time than stand around the streets throwing flowers
at each other?" I snarled, turning from the window.
"Somebody should be keeping the kingdom during all
this foolishness."

As usual, J. R. Grimble took it on himself to soothe
me.

"Your Majesty is simply nervous about the pending
reception. I trust his wisdom will not allow his edginess
to spill over onto his loyal subjects?"

"I was assured when she crossed the border that she
would be here this morning. Morning! Ever see the sun
set in the morning before?"

"Undoubtedly she was delayed by the condition of
the roads," General Badaxe offered. "I have told your
Majesty before that our roads are long overdue for
repair. In their current state, they hinder the passage of
travelers . . . and troops should our fair land come
under attack."

Grimble bared his teeth.

"And his Majesty has always agreed with me that
repairing the roads at this time would be far too costly
. . . unless the General would be willing to significantly
reduce the size of his army that we might use the savings
from wages to pay for the road work?"

The General purpled.

"Reduce the size of the army and you'll soon lose that
treasury that you guard so closely, Grimble."

"Enough, gentlemen," I said, waving them both to

             41

silence. "As you've both said, we've discussed this sub-
ject many times before."

It had been decided that rather than having the King
of Possiltum sit and fidget in front of the entire popu-
lace, that he should sweat it out in private with his ad-
visors until his bride actually arrived. Royal image and
all that. Unfortunately this meant that since morning I
had been confined in a small room with J. R. Grimble
and Hugh Badaxe for company. Their constant bicker-
ing and sniping was sufficient to turn my already dubi-
ous mood into something of record foulness.

"Well, while we're waiting, perhaps you can each
brief me on your opinions of my future bride and her
kingdom."

"But your Majesty, we've done that before. Many
times."

"Well, we'll do it again. You're supposed to be my
advisors, aren't you? So advise me. General Badaxe,
why don't you start?"

Badaxe shrugged.

"The situation is essentially unchanged from our last
briefing. Impasse is a small kingdom; tiny really—less
than a thousand citizens altogether. They claim the en-
tire Impasse mountain range, from which the kingdom
gets its name, and which is the bulk of their military
defense. Their claim stands mostly because the moun-
tains are treacherous and there is little or no reason to
venture there. At least ninety-five percent of their popu-
lation is concentrated along the one valley through the
mountains. They have no formal military, but rather a
militia, which suffices as there are no less than five
passes in the main valley where a child with a pile of
rocks could hold off an army . . . and they have plenty
of rocks. Their main vulnerability is food. The terrain is
such that they are unable to support even their small

42 

population, and as they are still at odds with the king-
dom at the other end of the valley who originally owned
it, they are forced to buy all their food from us ... at
prices even a generous man would call exorbitant."

"Supply and demand," Grimble said with a toothy
smile.

"Wait a minute, General," I interrupted. "If I under-
stand this right. Impasse is not a threat to us militarily
because of its size. If anything, it guards our flank
against attack from the pass. Right?"

"Correct."

"Which it is already doing."

"Also correct."

Seeing an opening, I hurried on.

"We can't attack them, but from what you say they
don't have anything we want. So why are we bothering
with this marriage/alliance?"

The General looked pointedly at Grimble.

"Because even though Impasse is people-few and
crop-light, they are sitting on the largest deposit of
precious metal on the continent," The Chancellor of the
Exchequer supplied.

"Precious met... oh! You mean gold."

"Precisely. With the alliance, Possiltum will become
the richest kingdom ever."

"That hardly seems like sufficient reason to get mar-
ried," I mumbled.

"Your Majesty's opinions on the subject are well
known to us," Grimble nodded. "You have expressed
them often and long every time the possibility of this
marriage was broached. I am only glad that you finally
gave your consent when the citizens of Possiltum threat-
ened to revolt if you didn't accept the betrothal offer."

"That was only after you spread the word that such

            43

an alliance would significantly lower taxes, Grimble,"
Badaxe scowled.

"I said it might lower taxes," the Chancellor cor-
rected innocently. "Can I help it if the common folk
jumped to conclusions?"

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 man-
aged to take over and maintain the throne, thereby es-
tablishing 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 chal-
lenge," 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

44

45

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 seperate 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 / knew who the King was will-
ing to sacrifice!

I studied Grimble's smile through hooded eyes, seek-
ing desperately through my mind for something to dis-
rupt 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 per-
sonally responsible for his return."

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

"He can't have gone far," Badaxe volunteered casu-
ally. "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 tid-
bit alone should help you locate him."

"Thank you, your Majesty," the Chancellor re-
sponded glumly, reminded now of the shape-changing

46             

abilities of his supposed quarry.

I wasn't sure, but I thought General Badaxe was stif-
ling 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 re-
laxed conversation than when I had been pretending to
be King Rodrick.

"Fighting men recognize people as much by move-
ment 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

48 

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 murder-
ing 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 where-
abouts 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!"

            49

"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 around 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 ef-
ficiency 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,

50   51

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 ap-
pearance; broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, and
musclebound. 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 decora-
tions, 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 un-
disciplined 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 preda-
tors . .. big predators.

I was about to call Badaxe's attention to the pair
when the carriage door opened. The woman who ap-
peared 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

52 

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 re-
ceived 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 curt-
sey ... 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 wear-
ing 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 ap-
proval.

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

"Aahh.... "I repeated.

General Badaxe came to my rescue.

53

"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 in-
stead 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 speak-
ing 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 under-
foot 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. In-
stead, 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.

54 

Mostly, though, I noticed that the two broadshouldered
predators previously assumed to be part of the Queen's
escort, had suddenly materalized at his side, 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 feel-
ing 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 ... con-
sortium 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 disap-
peared after tangling with him. Now do you understand

7"

me7

Chapter Eight:

"Choose your friends carefully. Your ene-
mies 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 bat-
tlefield 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 increas-
ingly aware that she would have to be dealt with.

The Mob representatives, however, were an im-
mediate problem. I had stalled them temporarily by tell-
ing 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

55

56 

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 felling that
"some time" would be real soon.

Needing all the help I could get, I had Badaxe send
one of his men for Big Julie. With minimal difficultywe
smuggled him into the palace, and the three of us held
a war council. On Badaxe's advice, I immediately
dropped my disguise and brought our guest up to date
on the situation.

"Ah'm sorry," Julie said to open the meeting, "but I
don't see where I can help you, know what I mean?"

Terrific. So much for Big Julie's expert military ad-
vice.

"I'd like to help," he clarified. "You've done pretty
good by me and the boys. But I used to work for the
Mob, you know? I know what they're like. Once they
get on your trail, they never quit. I tried to tell you that
before."

"I don't see what the problem is," General Badaxe
rumbled. "There are only three of them, and their main
spokesman's a non-combatant to boot. It wouldn't take
much to make sure they didn't report anything to any-
body .. . ever again."

Big Julie shook his head.

"You're a good man, Hugh, but you don't know
what you're dealing with here. If the Mob's scouting
party disappears, the Big Boys will know they've hit
paydirt and set things in motion. Taking out their reps
won't stop the Mob ... it won't even delay them. If
anything, it will speed the process up!"

Before Badaxe had a chance to reply, I interrupted
with a few questions of my own.

"Wait a minute. Big Julie. When we first met, you

T

            57

were commanding the biggest army this world had ever
seen. Right?"

"That's right," he nodded. "We was rolling along
pretty good until we met you."

". . . And we didn't stop you militarily. We just gave
you a chance to disappear as soldiers and retire as
citizens of Possiltum. You and your boys were never
beaten in a fight."

"We were the best," Big Julie confirmed proudly.
"Anybody messed with us, they pulled back a bloody
stump with no body attached, know what I mean?"

"Then why are you all so afraid of the Mob? If they
try anything, why don't you and your boys just hook up
with General Badaxe's army and teach 'em a lesson in
maneuvers?"

The ex-commander heaved a deep sigh.

"It don't work that way," he said. "If they was to
march in here like an army, sure, we could send 'em
packing. But they won't. They move in a few muscle-
men at a time, all acting just as polite as you please so
there's nothing you can arrest 'em for. When enough of
'em get here, though, they start leaning on your citizens.
Little stuff, but nasty. If somebody complains to you,
that somebody turns up dead along with most of their
family. Pretty soon, all your citizens are more afraid of
the Mob than they are of you. Nobody complains,
nobody testifies in court. When that happens, you got
no more kingdom. The Mob runs everything while you
starve. You can't fight an invasion like that with an
army. You can't fight it at all!"

We all sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, each
avoiding the other's gaze while we racked our brains for
a solution.

"What I don't understand," Badaxe said at last,
"is if the system you describe is so effective and so un-

58

59

stoppable, why did they bother having an army at all?"

"I really hate to admit this," Big Julie grimaced,
"but we was an experiment. Some of the Mob's bean-
counters got it into their heads that even though an
army was more expensive, the time savings of a fast
takeover would offset the additional cost. To tell you
the truth, I think their experiment was a washout."
That one threw me.

"You mean to say your army wasn't effective?"
"Up to a point we were. After that, we were too big.
It costs a lot to keep an army in the field, and toward the
end there, it was costing more to support my boys for a
week than we were getting out of the kingdoms we were
conquering. I think they were getting ready to phase us
out . . . and that's why it's taken so long for them to
come looking for their army.''
I shook my head quickly.
"You lost me on that last loop. Big Julie. Why did

they delay their search?"

"Money," he said firmly. "I'll tell you, nothing
makes the Big Boys sit up and take notice like hard cash.
I mean, they wrote the book when it came to money

motivation."

"Sounds like Grimble," Badaxe muttered. "Doesn't
anybody do anything for plain old revenge anymore?"

"Stow it, General," I ordered, leaning forward.
"Keep going. Big Julie. What part does money have in

this?"
"Well, the way I see it, the Mob was already losing

money on my army, you know? To me, that means they
weren't about to throw good gold after bad. I mean, .
why spend more money looking for an army that, when
you find it, is only going to cost you more money?"

"But they're here now."

"Right. At the same time Possiltum's about to

become suddenly rich. It looks to me like the Big Boys
have found a way to settle a few old scores and turn a
profit at the same time."

"The wedding!" I said. "I should have known. That
means that by calling off the wedding, I can eliminate
two problems at once; Queen Hemlock, and the Mob!"

Badaxe scowled at me.

"I thought we had already discarded that option. Re-
member Grimble and the citizenry of Possiltum?"

Without thinking, I slammed the flat of my hand
down on the table with a loud slap.

"Will you forget about Grimble and the citizenry of
Possiltum? I'm tired of being in a box, General, and one
way or another I'm going to blast a way out!"

From the expressions of my advisors, I realized I
might have spoken louder than I had intended. With a
conscious effort, I modulated my tone and my mood.

"Look, General . . . Hugh," I said carefully. "You
may be used to the pressures of command, but this is
new to me. I'm a magician, remember? Forgive me if I
get a little razzled trying to find a solution to the prob-
lem that your ... I mean, our King has dropped in my
lap. Okay?"

He nodded curtly, but still didn't relax.

"Now, your point has merit," I continued, "but it
overlooks a few things. First, Grimble isn't here. When
and ;/ he does get back, he'll have the king in tow, and
friend Rodrick can solve the problem for us... at least
the problem with the Queen. As for the citizenry of
Possiltum . . . between you and me I'm almost ready to
face their protests rather than have to deal with Queen
Hemlock. Now if you weigh the disappointment of our
people over having to continue the status quo against
having both the Queen and the Mob move in on a per-
manent basis, what result do you get? Thinking of the

60 

welfare of the kingdom, of course!"

The General thought it over, then heaved a great sigh.

"I was never that much in favor of the wedding,
anyway," he admitted.

"Just a minute, boys," Big Julie said, holding up a
weary hand. "It's not quite that easy. The money thing
may have slowed up their search a bit, but now that the
Mob is here, there are a couple other matters they're
gonna want to settle."

"Such as?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Well, first off, there's me and my boys. Nobody just
walks away from the Mob, you know. Their pay scale is
great, but their retirement plan stinks."

"I thought you said they didn't want their army
anymore," Badaxe grumbled.

"Maybe not as an army, but they can always use
manpower. They'll probably break us up and absorb us
into various positions in the organization."

"Would you be willing to go back to work for
them?."

Big Julie rubbed his chin with one hand as he con-
sidered the General's question.

"I'd have to talk to the boys," he said. "Like I said,
this kingdom's been pretty good to us. I'd hate to see
anything happen to it because we were here . . . espe-
cially if we'd end up working for them again anyway."

"No, "I said flatly.

"But..."

"I said 'No!' You've got a deal with Possiltum, Big
Julie. More important, you've got a deal with me. We
don't turn you over to the Mob until we've tried
everything we can do to defend you."

"And how do you propose to defend them from the
Mob?" Badaxe asked, sarcastically.

"I don't know. I'm working on it. Maybe we can buy

            61

them off. Offer them Queen Hemlock to hold for ran-
som or something."

"Lord Magician!"

"Okay, okay. I said I was still working on it, didn't I?
What's next. Big Julie? You said there were a couple
things they wanted besides money."

"You," he said bluntly. "The Mob isn't going to be
happy until they get the Great Skeeve, Court Magician
of Possiltum."

"Me?" I said in a small voice.

"The Mob didn't get to the top by ignoring the com-
petition. You've made some pretty big ripples with your
work, and the biggest as far as they're concerned is
making their army disappear. They know you're big.
Big enough to be a threat. They're gonna want you
neutralized. My guess is that they'll try to hire you, and
failing that, try for some sort of non-aggression deal."

"And failing that. . . ?" Badaxe asked, echoing my
thoughts.

Big Julie shrugged.

"Failing that, they're gonna do their best to kill
you."

Chapter Nine:

"/ don't know why anyone would be nerv-
ous about going to see royalty."

—P. IN BOOTS

"BUT why do / have to come along?" Badaxe protested,
pacing along at my side as we strode towards the
Queen's chambers.

"Call it moral support," I growled. "Besides, I want
a witness that I went into the Queen's chambers ... and
came out again, if you get my drift."

"But if this will only solve one of our problems...."

"... Then it will be one less problem for us to deal
with. Shh! Here we are."

I had switched back to my Rodrick disguise. That
combined with the General's presence was enough to
have the Honor Guards at the Queen's chambers snap
to rigid attention at our approach. I ignored them and
hammered on the door, though I did have a moment to
reflect that not long ago, I thought the biggest problem
facing a king was boredom!

"For cryin' out loud!" came a shrill voice from
within. "Can't you guards get anything right? I told you
I didn't want to be disturbed!"

One of the guards rolled his eyes in exasperation. I

63

64 

favored him with a sympathetic smile, then raised an
eyebrow at Badaxe.

"King Rodrick the Fifth of Possiltum seeks an au-
dience with Queen Hemlock!" he bellowed.

"I suppose it's all right," came the reply. "How
about first thing in the morning?"

"Now," I said.

I didn't say it very loud, but it must have carried.
Within a few heartbeats the door flew open, exposing
Queen Hemlock . . . literally. I can't describe her
clothing because she wasn't wearing any. Not a stitch!

"Roddie!" she chirped, oblivious to the guards and
Badaxe, all of whom gaped at her nakedness. "Come on
in. What in the world are you doing here?"

"Wait for me," I instructed Badaxe in my most com-
manding tone.

"C-certainly, your Majesty!" he responded, tearing
his eyes away from the Queen long enough to snap to at-
tention.

With that, I stepped into the Queen's lair.

"So, what have you got for me?" She shut the door
and leaned back against it. The action made her point at
me, even though her hands were behind her back.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The audience," she clarified. "You wanted it, you
got it. What's up?"

Somehow under the circumstances, I found that to be
another embarrassing question.

"I ... urn ... that is ... could you please put
something on? I'm finding your attire, or lack thereof,
to be quite distracting."

"Oh, very well. It is beastly hot in here, though."

She flounced across the room and came up with a
flimsy something which she shrugged into, but didn't
close completely.

            65

"Right after the wedding," she declared, "I want
that window enlarged, or better yet, the whole wall torn
out. Anything to get a little ventilation in this place."

She plopped down in a chair and curled her legs up
under her. It eased my discomfort somewhat, but not
much.

"Ahh ... actually, that's what I'm here to talk to you
about."

"The window?" she frowned.

"No. The wedding."

That made her frown even more.

"I thought it was agreed that I would handle all the
wedding arrangements. Oh, well, if you've got any
specific changes, it isn't too late to...."

"It isn't that," I interrupted hastily. "It's . . . well,
it's come to my attention that the high prices Possiltum
is charging your kingdom for food is forcing you into
this marriage. Not wishing to have you enter into such a
bond under duress, I've decided to cut our prices in
half, thereby negating the need for our wedding."

"Oh, Roddie, don't be silly. That's not the reason
I'm marrying you!"

Rather than being upset, the Queen seemed quite
amused at my suggestion.

"It isn't?"

"Of course not. Impasse is so rich that we could buy
your yearly crop at double the prices if we wanted to
and still not put a dent in our treasury."

My stomach began to sink.

"Then you really want this marriage? You aren't
being forced into it for political reasons?"

The Queen flashed all her teeth at me in a quick smile.

"Of course there are political reasons. I mean, we are
royalty, aren't we? I'm sure you're a pleasant enough
fellow, but I can get all the pleasant fellows I want with-

66

out marrying them. Royalty marries power blocks, not
people."

There was a glimmer of hope in what she was saying,
and I pounced on it with all fours.

"... Which brings us to the other reason we should
call off the wedding," I said grandly.

The Queen's smile disappeared.

"What's that?" she said sharply.

For my reply, I let drop my disguise spell.

"Because I'm not Royalty. I'm people."

"Oh, that," the Queen shrugged. "No problem. I
knew that all along."

"You did?" I gulped.

"Sure. You were embarrassed ... twice. Once when I
arrived at the palace, and again just now when I opened
the door in my all-together. Royalty doesn't embarrass.
It's in the blood. I knew all long you weren't Rodrick.
It's my guess you're the Great Skeeve, Court Magician.
Right? The one who can shape change?"

"Well, it's a disguise spell, not shape changing, but
except for that, you're right."

Between Badaxe and Queen Hemlock, I was starting
to wonder if anyone was really fooled by my disguise
spells.

The Queen uncoiled from her seat and began pacing
back and forth as she spoke, oblivious to her nakedness
which peeked out of her wrap at each turn.

"The fact that you aren't the king doesn't change my
situation, if anything it improves it. As long as you can
keep your disguise up enough to fool the rabble, I'll be
marrying two power blocks instead of one."

"Two power blocks," I echoed hollowly.

"Yes. As the 'king' of Possiltum, you control the first
block I was after: land and people. Impasse by itself
isn't large enough to wage an aggressive war, but unit-

            67

ing the respective powers of the two kingdoms, we're
unstoppable. With your armies backed by my capital, I
can sweep as far as I want, which is pretty far, let me tell
you. There's nothing like growing up in a valley where
the only view is the other side of the valley to whet one's
appetite for new and unusual places."

"Most people content themselves with touring," I
suggested. "You don't have to conquer a country to see
it."

"Cute," Queen Hemlock sneered. "Naive, but cute.
Let's just say I'm not most people and let it ride, okay?
Now then, for the second power base, there's you and
your magic. That's a bonus I hadn't expected, but I'm
sure that, given a day or two, I can expand my plans to
take advantage of it."

At one time, I thought I had been scared by Massha.
In hindsight, Massha caused me only faint discomfort.
Talking with Queen Hemlock, I learned what fear was
all about! She wasn't just a murderess, as Badaxe
suspected. She was utter mayhem waiting to be loosed
on the world. The only thing between her and the
resources necessary to act out her dreams was me. Me,
and maybe....

"What about King Rodrick?" I blurted out. "If he
shows up, the original wedding plans go into effect."

"You mean he's still alive?" she exclaimed, arching a
thin eyebrow at me. "I've overestimated you, Skeeve.
Alive he could be a problem. No matter. I'll alert my
escort to kill him on sight if he appears before the wed-
ding. After we're married, it would be a simple matter
to declare him an imposter and have him officially
executed."

Terrific. Thanks to my big mouth, Massha would be
walking into a trap if she tried to return the King to the
castle. If Queen Hemlock's men saw him, then ...

68

69

"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed. "If I'm walking
around disguised as the King, what's to keep your men
from offing me by mistake?''

"Hmm. Good thing you thought about that. Okay!
Here's what we'll do."

She dove into her wardrobe and emerged with a
length of purple ribbon.

"Wear this in full view whenever you're outside your
chambers," she instructed, thrusting it into my hands.
"It'll let my men know that you're the man I want to
marry instead of their target."

I stood with the ribbon in my hand.

"Aren't you making a rather large assumption, your
Majesty?"

"What's that?" she frowned.

"That I may not want to marry you?"

"Of course you do," she smiled. "You've already got
the throne of Possiltum. If you marry me, you not only
have access to my treasury, it also rids you of your other
problem."

"My other problem?"

"The Mob, silly. Remember? I rode in with their
representative. With my money, you can buy them off.
They'll forget anything if the price is high enough. Now,
isn't being my husband better than running from their
vengeance and mine for the rest of your life?"

I had my answer to that, but in a flash of wisdom kept
it to myself. Instead, I said my goodbyes and left.

"From your expression, I take it that your interview
with the Queen was less than a roaring success," Badaxe
said dryly.

"Spare me the 'I told you so's,' General," I snarled.
"We've got work to do."

Shooting a quick glance up and down the corridor, I
cut my purple ribbon in half on the edge of his axe.

"Keep a lookout for Massha and the King," I in-
structed. "If you see them, be sure Rodrick wears this.
It'll make his trip through the palace a lot easier."

"But where are you going?"

I gave him a tight smile.

"To see the Mob representatives. Queen Hemlock has
graciously told me how to deal with them!"

Chapter Ten:

"Superior ftrepower is an invaluable tool
when entering into negotiations."

—G. PATTON

THE Mob representatives had been housed in one of the
less frequented corners of the palace. In theory, this
kept them far from the hub of activity while Badaxe and
I figured out what to do with them. In fact, it meant
that now that I was ready to face them, I had an awfully
long walk to reach my destination.

By the time I reached the proper door, I was so
winded I wasn't sure I'd have enough breath to an-
nounce my presence. Still, on my walk I had worked up
a bit of a mad against the Mob. I mean, who did they
think they were, popping up and disrupting my life this
way? Besides, I was too unnerved by Queen Hemlock to
try anything against her, which left the Mob as the only
target for my frustration.

With that in mind, I drew a deep breath and knocked
on the door.

I needn't have worried about announcing myself.
Between the second and third knocks, the door opened a
crack. My third knock hit the door before I could stop
it, but the door remained unmoved by the impact.

71

72

"Hey, Shai-ster! It's the King!"
"Well, let him in, you idiot!"
The door opened wide, revealing one of Shai-ster's
massive bodyguards, then a little wider to allow me

entry space past him.

"Come in, come in. your Majesty," the Mob's

spokesman said, hurrying forward to greet me. "Have a
drink . .. Dummy! Get the King something to drink!"

This last was addressed to the second hulking muscle-
man who heaved himself off the bed he had been
sprawled upon. With self-conscious dignity he picked
up the end of the bed one-handed, set it down again,
then picked up the mattress and extracted a small, flat

bottle from under it.

I wondered briefly if this was what Big Julie meant

when he referred to the Mob tradition of "going to the
mattresses." Somehow the phrase had always brought
another image to mind ... something involving women.
Accepting the flask from his bodyguard, Shai-ster
opened the top and offered it to me, smiling all the

while.

"Am I correct in assuming that your Majesty's visit

indicates news of the whereabouts of his court magi-
cian? Perhaps even an estimated time as to when he is

expected back?"

I accepted the flask, covertly checking the locations

of the bodyguards before I answered. One was leaning
against the door, while the other stood by the bed.
"Actually, I can do better than that. The Great

Skeeve..."
I closed my eyes and dropped my disguise spell.

"...is here."
The bodyguards started visibly at my transformation,

but Shai-ster remained unmoved except for a narrowing
of the eyes and a tightening of his smile.

            73

"I see. That simplifies things a bit. Boys, give the
Great Skeeve here a chair. We have some business to
discuss."

His tone was not pleasant, nor were the bodyguards
smiling as they started for me.

Remember how Rupert jumped me so easily? Well, he
took me by surprise, and had three hundred years plus
of magical practice to boot. Somehow, I was not par-
ticularly surprised by the bodyguards' action ... in fact,
I had been expecting it and had been gathering my
powers for just this moment.

With a theatric wave of my hand and a much more
important focusing of my mental energies, I picked the
two men up and spun them in midair. Heck, I wasn't
adverse to stealing a new idea for how to use levitation
. . . even from Rupert. I did like a little originality in my
work, though, so instead of bouncing them on their
heads, I slammed them against the ceiling and held them
pinned there.

"No, thanks," I said as casually as I could, "I'd
rather stand."

Shai-ster looked at his helpless protectors, then shot a
hard stare at me.

"Perhaps this won't be as simple as I thought," he
admitted. "Say, you've got a unicorn, don't you?"

"That's right," I confirmed, surprised by the sudden
change in topic.

"I don't suppose you'd be particularly scared if you
woke up in the morning and found him in your bed . . .
not all of him, just his head?"

"Scared? No, not particularly. In fact, I'm pretty
sure I'd be mad enough to quit playing games and get
down to serious revenge."

The Mob spokesman sighed heavily.

"Well, that's that. If we can't make a deal, we'll just

74

have to do this the hard way. You can let the boys down
now. We'll be heading back in the morning."

This time, it was my turn to smile.

"Not so fast. Who said I didn't want to make a

deal?"
For the first time since I met him, Shai-ster's poise

was shaken.

"But... I thought... if you can ..."

"Don't assume, Shai-ster. It's a bad habit for busi-
nessmen to get into. I just don't like to get pushed
around, that's all. Now then, as you said earlier, I
believe we have some business to discuss."

The spokesman shot a nervous glance at the ceiling.

"Um . . . could you let the boys down first? It's a bit
distracting."

"Sure."

I closed my eyes and released the spell. Mind you,
unlike the disguise spell, I don't have to close my eyes to
remove a levitation spell. I just didn't want to see the
results. .

The room shook as two loud crashes echoed each
other. I distinctly heard the bed assume a foolproof
disguise as kindling.

I carefully opened an eye.

One bodyguard was unconscious. The other rolled
about, groaning weakly.

"They're down," I said, needlessly.

Shai-ster ignored me.

"Big bad bodyguards! Wait'11 the Big Boys hear how
good dumb muscle is against magik!"

He paused to kick the groaner in the side.

"Groan quieter! Mister Skeeve and I have some talk-
ing to do."

Having already completed one adventure after an-

            75

tagonizing the military arm of a large organization, I
was not overly eager to add another entire group of
plug-uglies to my growing list of enemies.

"Nothing personal," I called to the bodyguard who
was still conscious. "Here! Have a drink."

I levitated the flask over to him, and he caught it with
a weak moan I chose to interpret as "thanks."

"You said something about a deal?" Shai-ster said,
turning to me again.

"Right. Now, if my appraisal of the situation is cor-
rect, the Mob wants three things: Big Julie's army back,
me dead or working for them, and a crack at the new
money coming into Possiltum after the wedding."

The Mob spokesman cocked his head to one side.

"That's a bit more blunt than I would have put it, but
you appear to have captured the essential spirit of my
clients' wishes. My compliments on your concise sum-
mation."

"Here's another concise summation to go with it.
Hands off Big Julie and his crew; he's under my protec-
tion. By the same token, Possiltum is my territory. Stay
away from it or it will cost you more than you'll get. As
to my services, I have no wish to become a Mob
employee. I would consider an occasional assignment as
an outside contractor for a specific fee, but full-time
employment is out.''

The Mob spokesman was back in his element, face
stony and impassive.

"That doesn't sound like much of a deal."

"It doesn't?"

I reviewed the terms quickly in my mind.

"Oh! Excuse me. There is one other important part
of my offer I neglected to mention. I don't expect your
employers to give up their objectives without any return

76 

at all. What I have in mind is a swap: an army and
maybe a kingdom for an opportunity to exploit an en-
tire world."

Shai-ster raised his eyebrows.

"You're going to give us the world? Just like that?
Lord Magician, I suspect you're not bargaining with a
full deck.'*

"I didn't say I would give you the world, I said I
would give you access to a world. Brand new territory
full of businesses and people to exploit; one of the
richest in the universe."

The spokesman frowned.

"Another world? And I'm supposed to take your
word as to how rich it is and that you can give us ac-
cess?"

"It would be nice, but even in my most naive mo-
ments I wouldn't expect you to accept a blind bid like
that. No, I'm ready to give you a brief tour of the pro-
posed world so that you can judge for yourself."

"Wait-a minute," Shai-ster said, holding up his
hands. "This is so far beyond my negotiating para-
meters that-even if I liked what I saw, I couldn't ap-
prove the deal. I need to bring one of the Big Boys in on
this decision."

This was better than I had hoped. By the time he
could bring one of the Mob's hierarchy to Possiltum, I
could deal with some of my other problems.

"Fine. Go and fetch him. I'll hold the deal until your
return."

The spokesman gave one of his tight-lipped smiles.

"No need to wait," he said. "My immediate superior
is on call specifically for emergencies such as this."

Before I could frame a reply, he opened the front of
his belt-buckle and began rubbing it, all the while
mumbling under his breath.

77

There was a quick flash of light, and an old, hairy-
jowled man appeared in the room. Looking round, he
spied the two bodyguards sprawled on the floor and
gripped the sides of his face with his open hands in an
exaggerated expression of horror.

"Mercy!" he wheezed in a voice so hoarse I could
barely understand him. "Shai-ster, you bad boy. If
there was trouble, you should have called me sooner.
Oh, those poor, poor boys."

The Mob spokesman's face was once again blank and
impassive as he addressed me.

"Skeeve, Lord Magician of Possiltum, let me in-
troduce Don Bruce, the Mob's fairy godfather."

Chapter Eleven:

Te// you what. Let me sweeten the deal a
bit for you...."

—BEELZEBUB

"OH! This is simply war-velous! Who would have ever
thought... another dimension, you say?"

"That's right," I said off-handedly. "It's called
Deva."

Of course, I was quite in agreement with Don Bruce.
The Bazaar on Deva was really something, and every
time I visited it, I was impressed anew. It was an incredi-
ble tangle of tents and displays stretching as far as the
eye could see in every direction, crammed full of enough
magikal devices and beings to defy anyone's imagina-
tion and sanity. It was the main crossroads of trade for
the dimensions. Anything worth trading money or
credits for was here.

This time, however, I was the senior member of the
expedition. As much as I wanted to rubberneck and ex-
plore, it was more important to pretend to be bored and
worldly... or other-worldly as the case might be.

Don Bruce led the parade, as wide-eyed as a farm-kid
in his first big city, with Shai-ster, myself, and the two

79

80 

bodyguards trailing along behind. The bodyguards
seemed more interested in crowding close to me than in
protecting their superiors, but then again, they had just
had some bad experiences with magik.

"The people here all look kinda strange," one of
them muttered to me. "You know, like foreigners."

"They are foreigners ... or rather you are," I said.
"You're on their turf, and a long way from home.
These are Deveels."

"Devils?" the man responded, looking a little wild-
eyed. "You're tellin' me we're surrounded by devils?"

While it was reassuring to me to see the Mob's bully-
boys terrified by something I had grown used to, it also
occurred to me that if they were too scared, it might ruin
the deal I was trying to set up.

"Look ... say, what is your name, anyway?"

"Guido," the man confided, "and this here's my
cousin Nunzio."

"Well look, Guido. Don't be thrown by these jokers.
Look at them. They're storekeepers like storekeepers
anywhere. Just because they look funny doesn't mean
they don't scare like anybody else."

"I suppose you're right. Say, I meant to thank you
for the drink back there at the castle."

"Don't mention it," I waved. "It was the least I
could do after bouncing you off the ceiling. Incident-
ally, there was nothing personal in that. I wasn't trying
to make you two look bad, I was trying to make myself
look good ... if you see the difference."

Guide's brow furrowed slightly.

"I ... think so. Yeah! I get it. Well, it worked. You
looked real good. I wouldn't want to cross you, and
neither would Nunzio. In fact, if we can ever do you a
favor . . . you know, bend someone a little for you . . .
well, just let us know."

81

"Hey, what's that?"

I looked in the direction Don Bruce was pointing. A
booth was filled with short painted sticks, all floating in
midair.

"I think he's selling magic wands," I guessed.
"Oh! I want one. Now, don't go anywhere without
me."

The bodyguards hesitated for a moment, then fol-
lowed as Don Bruce plunged into negotiations with the
booth's proprietor, who gaped a bit at his new cus-
tomer.

"Does he always dress like that?" I asked Shai-ster.

"You know, all in light purple?"
The Mob spokesman raised an eyebrow at me.
"Do you always dress in green when you travel to

other dimensions?"

Just to be on the safe side, I had donned another
disguise before accompanying this crew to Deva. It oc-
curred to me that if I were successful in my negotiations,
it wouldn't be wise to be known at the Bazaar as the one
who introduced organized crime to the dimension.

Unfortunately, this had dawned on me just as we
were preparing to make our departure, so I hadn't had
much time to choose someone to disguise myself as.
Any of my friends were out, as were Massha, Quigley,
Garkin ... in desperation I settled on Rupert ... I
mean, there was one being I owed a bad turn or two.
Consequently, I was currently parading around the
Bazaar as a scaly green Pervert... excuse me, Pervect.

"I have my reasons," I dodged loftily.

"Well, so has Don Bruce," Shai-ster scowled. "Now
if you don't mind, I've got a few questions about this
place. If we try to move in here, won't language be a
problem? I can't understand anything these freaks are
saying."

82 

"Take a look," I instructed, pointing.

Don Bruce and the Deveel proprietor were haggling
earnestly, obviously having no difficulty understanding
each other, however much they disagreed.

"No Deveel worth his salt is going to let a little thing
like language stand in the way of a sale."

"Hey, everybody! Look what I got!"

We turned to find Don Bruce bearing down on us,
proudly waving a small rod the same color as his
clothes.

"It's a magic wand!" he exclaimed. "I got it for a
song."

"A song plus some gold, I'd wager," Shai-ster ob-
served dryly. "What does it do?"

"What does it do?" Don Bruce grinned. "Watch
this."

He swept the wand across the air with a grand
gesture, and a cloud of shiny dust sparkled to the
ground.

"That's it?" Shai-ster grimaced.

Don Bruce frowned at the wand.

"That's funny. When the guy back there did it, he got
a rainbow."

He pointed the wand at the ground and shook it...
and three blades materialized out of thin air, lancing
into the dust at our feet.

"Careful!" Shai-ster warned, hopping back out of
range. "You'd better read the instructions on that
thing."

"I don't need instructions," Don Bruce insisted.
"I'm a fairy godfather. I know what I'm doing."

As he spoke, he gestured emphatically with the wand,
and a jet of flame narrowly missed one of the body-
guards.

"... But this can wait," Don Bruce concluded, tuck-

Hrr OR MYTH

83

ing the wand into his waistband. "We've got business to
discuss."

"Yes. We were just..." Shai-ster began.
"Shuddup! I'm talking to Skeeve here."
The force behind Don Bruce's sudden admonish-
ment, combined with the Shai-ster's quick obedience,
made me hastily revise my opinion of the Mob leader.
Strange or not, he was a force to be recognized.

"Now then, Mister Skeeve, what's the police situa-
tion around here?"
"There aren't any."
Shaister's eyebrows shot up.

"Then how do they enforce the laws?" he asked,
forgetting himself.

"As far as I can tell, there are no laws either."
"How 'bout that, Shai-ster?" Don Bruce laughed.

"No police, no laws, no lawyers. You'd be in trouble if

you were born here.''

I started to ask what a lawyer was, but the godfather
saved me from my own ignorance by plunging into the
next question.

"How about politicians?"

"None."

"Unions?"

"None."

"Bookies?"

"Lots," I admitted. "This is the gambling capital of
the dimensions. As near as I can tell, though, they all
operate independently. There's no central organiza-
tion."

Don Bruce rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"You listening to this, Shai-ster? This is some world
Mister Skeeve is givin' us here."

"He's not giving it to us," Shai-ster corrected. "He's
offering access to it."

84             

"That's right," I said quickly. "Exploiting it is up to
your organization. Now, if you don't think your boys

can handle it. ..."

"We can handle it. A layout like this? It's a piece of

cake."

Guido and Nunzio exchanged nervous glances, but

held their silence as Don Bruce continued.

"Now if I understand this right, what you want in
return for letting us into this territory is that we lay off
Big June and Possiltum. Right?"

I count real good up to three.

"And me," I added. "No 'getting even with the guy
who thrashed our army plans,' no 'join the Mob or die'
pressure. I'm an independent operator and happy to

stay that way."

"Sure, sure," Don Bruce waved. "Now that we've

seen how you operate, no reason we can't eat out of the
same bowl. If anything, we owe you a favor for opening
up a new area to our organization."

Somehow, that worried me.

"Dm . . . tell you what. I don't want any credit for
this . . . inside the Mob or outside. Right now, nobody
but us knows I had a hand in this. Let's keep it that way,

okay?"

"If that's what you want," Don Bruce shrugged.

"I'll just tell the Big Boys you're too rough for us to
tangle with, and that's why we're going to leave you
alone. Anytime our paths cross, we go ahead with your
approval or we back off. Okay?"

"That's what I want."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

We shook hands ceremoniously.

"Very well," I said. "Here's what you need to travel
between here and home."

85

I fished the D-Hopper out of my sleeve.

"This setting is for home. This one is for here. Push
this button to travel."

"What about the other settings?" Shai-ster asked.

"Remember the magic wand?" I countered. "With-
out instructions, you could get lost with this thing. I
mean, really \ost."

"Come on, boys," Don Bruce said, setting the
D-Hopper. "We gotta hurry home. There's a world
here to conquer, so we gotta get started before some-
body else beats us to it. Mister Skeeve, a pleasure doin'
business with you."

A second later, they were gone.

I should have been elated, having finally eliminated
one set of problems from my horizon. I wasn't.

Don Bruce's last comment about world conquering
reminded me of Queen Hemlock's plans. Now that the
Mob was neutralized, I had other problems to solve. As
soon as I got back to the palace, I would have to ...

Then it hit me.

The Mob representatives had taken the D-Hopper
with them when they left. That thing was my only route
back to Klah! I was stranded at the Bazaar with no way
back to my own dimension!

Chapter Twelve:

Tm mafcing this up as I go along!"

—I.JONES

BUT I didn't panic. Why should I?

Sure, I was in a bit of a mess, but if there was one
place in all the dimensions I could be confident of find-
ing help, it was here at the Bazaar. Anything could be
had here for a price, and thanks to Aahz's training, I
had made a point of stocking my pouch with money
prior to our departure from Klah.

Aahz!

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't thought
about my old mentor for days. The crises that had
erupted shortly after his departure had occupied my
mind to an extent where there was no time or energy left
for brooding. Except for the occasional explanation of
his absence, Aahz was playing no part in my life cur-
rently. I was successfully handling things without him.

Well...

Okay. I had successfully handled some things without
him ... the Mob, for example. Of course, the training
he had gotten me into earlier in our relationship had
also provided me with confidence under fire... another

87

88             

much-needed commodity these days.

"Face it, kid," I said to myself in my best imitation

of Aahz. "You owe a lot to your old mentor."

Right. A lot. Like not making him ashamed of his
prize pupil... say by leaving a job half done.

With new resolve, I addressed my situation. First, I
had to get back to Klah ... or should I look for a solu-
tion right here?

Rather than lose time to indecision, I compromised.

With a few specific questions to the nearest vendor, I set
a course for my eventual destination, keeping an eye out
as I went for something that would help me solve the

Queen Hemlock problem.
This trip through the Bazaar was different from my

earlier visits. Before, my experience had been of wishing
for more time to study the displays at leisure while
hurrying to keep up with Aahz. This time, it was me that
was pushing the pace, dismissing display after display
with a casual "interesting, but no help with today's
problem." Things seemed to have a different priority
when responsibility for the crisis was riding on my

shoulders.
Of course, I didn't know what I was looking for. I

just knew that trick wands and instant thunderstorms
weren't it. Out of desperation, I resorted to logic.

To recognize the solution, I needed to know the prob-
lem. The problem was that Queen Hemlock was about
to marry me instead of Rodrick. Scratch that. Massha
was bringing Rodrick back, and I couldn't help her. 1
just had to believe she could do it. The problem was

Queen Hemlock.

Whether she married me or Rodrick, she was deter-
mined to use Possiltum's military strength to wage a war
of expansion. If her husband, whoever it was, tried to

            89

oppose her, he would find himself conveniently dead.

Killing the Queen would be one solution, but some-
how I shrank from cold-blooded murder ... or hot-
blooded murder for that matter. No. What was needed
was something to throw a scare into her. A big scare.

The answer walked past me before I recognized it.
Fortunately, it was moving slowly, so I turned and
caught up with it in just a few steps.

Answers come in many shapes and sizes. This one was
in the form of a Deveel with a small tray display hung by
a strap around his neck.

"What you just said, was it true?"

The Deveel studied me.

"I said, 'Rings. One size fits all. Once on, never
off.' "

"That's right. Is it true?"

"Of course. Each of my rings are pre-spelled. Once
you put it on, it self-adjusts so that it won't come off,
even if you want it to."

"Great. I'll take two."

". . . Because to lose a ring of such value would be
tragedy indeed. Each one worth a king's ransom...."

I rolled my eyes.

"Look," I interrupted. "I know it's a tradition of the
Bazaar to bargain, but I'm in a hurry. How much for
two? Bottom price."

He thought for a moment and named a figure. My
training came to the fore and I made a counteroffer one-
tenth of his.

"Hey! You said 'no haggling,' " he protested. "Who
do you think you are?"

Well, it was worth a try. According to Massha, I was
getting a bit of a reputation at the Bazaar.

"I think I'm the Great Skeeve, since you asked."

90             

". . . And the camel you rode in on," the vendor
sneered. "Everyone knows the Great Skeeve isn't a

Pervert."
The disguise! I had forgotten about it completely.

With a mental wave, I restored my normal appearance.

"No, I'm a Klahd," I smiled, "And for your in-
formation, that's Pervect!"

"You mean you're really ... no, you must be. No
one else would voluntarily look like a Klahd ... or de-
fend Perverts ... excuse me, Pervects."

"Now that that's established," I yawned, "how

much for two of your rings?"

"Here," he said, thrusting the tray forward. "Take
your pick, with my compliments. I won a bundle betting
on your team at the Great Game. All I ask is permission
to say that you use my wares."

It was with a great deal of satisfaction that I made my
selection and continued on my way. It was nice to have a
reputation, but nicer to earn it. Those two little baubles
now riding in my pouch were going to get me out of the
Possiltum dilemma ... if I got back in time . . . and if

Massha had found the King.

Those sobering thoughts brought my hat size back to
normal in a hurry. The time to gloat was after the battle,
not before. Plans aren't victories, as I should be the first

to know.

With panic once again nipping at my heels, I quick-
ened my pace until I was nearly running by the time I
reached my final destination: the Yellow Crescent Inn.

Bursting through the door of the Bazaar's leading fast
food establishment, I saw that it was empty of cus-
tomers except for a troll munching on a table in the cor-
ner.

Terrific.

            91

I was expecting to deal with Gus, the gargoyle pro-
prietor, but I'd settle for the troll.

"Skeeve!" the troll exclaimed. "I say, this is a sur-
prise. What brings you to the Bazaar?"

"Later, Chumly. Right now I need a lift back to
Klah. Are you busy with anything?"

The troll set his half-eaten table to one side and raised
the eyebrow over one mismatched moon eye.

"Not to be picky about formality," he said, "but
what happened to 'Hello, Chumly. How are you?' "

"I'm sorry. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Can we just...."

"Skeeve! How's it going, handsome?"

A particularly curvaceous bundle of green-haired
loveliness had just emerged from the ladies' room.

"Oh. Hi, Tananda. How 'bout it, Chumly?"

Tananda's smile of welcome disappeared, to be re-
placed by a puzzled frown.

" 'Oh. Hi, Tananda?' " she repeated, shooting a look
at the troll. "Does anything strike you as strange about
that rather low-key greeting, big brother?"

"No stranger than the greeting I just got," Chumly
confided. "Just off-hand, I'd say that either our young
friend here has forgotten his manners completely, or
he's gotten himself into a spot of trouble."

Their eyes locked and they nodded.

"Trouble," they said together.

"Cute," I grimaced. "Okay, so I'm in a mess. I'm
not asking you to get involved. In fact, I think I've got it
worked out myself. All I want is for you to pop me back
to Klah."

Brother and sister stepped to my side.

"Certainly," Chumly smiled. "You don't mind if we
tag along, though, do you?"

"But I didn't ask you to ..."

92             

"When have you had to ask for our help before,
handsome?" Tananda scolded, slipping an arm around
my waist. "We're your friends, remember?"

"But I think I've got it handled ..."

". . . In which case, having us along won't hurt," the

troll insisted.

"Unless, of course, something goes wrong," Tan-
anda supplied. "In which case, we might be able to lend

a hand."

"... And if the three of us can't handle it. we'll be

there to pull you out again," Chumly finished.

I should have known better than to try to argue with
the two of them when they were united.

"But... if ... well, thanks," I managed. "I didn't
really expect this. I mean, you don't even know what the

trouble is."

"You can tell us later," Tananda said firmly, starting

her conjuring to move us through the dimensions. "In-
cidentally, where's Aahz?"

"That's part of the problem," I sighed.

And we were back!

Not just back on Klah, back in my own quarters in
the palace. As luck would have it, we weren't alone.
Someday I'll have time to figure out if it was good luck

or bad.
The King was trussed up hand and foot on my bed,

while Massha and J. R. Grimble were each enjoying a
goblet of wine, and apparently each other's company.
At least, that was the scene when we arrived. Once
Massha and Tananda set eyes on each other, the mood
changed dramatically.

"Slut," my new apprentice hissed.
"No-talent mechanic," Tananda shot back.
"Is that freak on our payroll?" Grimble interrupted,
staring at Chumly.

            93

"Spoken like a true bean-counter," the troll sneered.

I tried to break it up.

"If we can just..."

That brought Grimble's attention to me.

"You!" he gasped. "But if you're Skeeve, then
who's...."

"King Rodrick of Possiltum," I supplied, nodding to
the bound figure on the bed. "And now that everybody
knows each other, can you all shut up while I tell you
what our next move is?"

Chapter Thirteen:

"Marriage, being a lifelong venture, must be
approached with care and caution."

—BLUEBEARD

THE wedding went off without a hitch.

I don't known why I had been worried. There were no
interruptions, no missed lines, nobody protested or even
coughed at the wrong time. As was previously noted,
Queen Hemlock had handled the planning to the last
minute detail . . . except for a few surprises we were
holding back.

That's why I was worried! My cronies and I knew that
as gaudy and overdone as the Royal Wedding was, it
was only the warm-up act for the main event. There was
also the extra heat on me of knowing that I hadn't
shared all of my plans with my co-conspirators. It
seemed that was another bad habit I had picked up from
Aahz.

Grimble and Badaxe were at their usual places as
mismatched bookends to the throne, while Chumly,
Tananda, Massha, and I, courtesy of my disguise spells
and Badaxe's pull as general, were lined up along the
foot of the throne as bodyguards. Everything was set to
go ... if we ever got the time!

95

96

As dignitary after dignitary stepped forward to offer
his or her congratulations and gifts, I found little to oc-
cupy my thoughts except how many things could go
wrong with my little scheme. I had stuck my neck out a
long way with my plan, and if it didn't work, a lot of
people would be affected, starting with the king and

subjects of Possiltum.

The more I thought, the more I worried until, instead
of wishing the dignitaries would hurry, I actually found
myself hoping they would take forever and preserve this

brief moment of peace.

Of course, no sooner did I start hoping things would
last then they were over. The last well-wisher was filing
out and the Queen herself rising to leave when Grimble
and Badaxe left their customary positions and stepped

before the throne.

"Before you go, my dear," Rodrick said, "our re-
tainers wish to extend their compliments."

Queen Hemlock frowned slightly, but resumed her

seat.

"The Chancellor of the Exchequer stands ready to
support their majesties in any way," Grimble began.
"Of course, even with the new influx of wealth into the
treasury, we must watch needless expenses. As always, I
stand ready to set the example in cost savings, and so
have decided that to purchase a present for you equal to
my esteem would be a flagrant and unnecessary ex-
pense, and therefore..."

"Yes, yes, Grimble," the King interrupted. "We
understand and appreciate your self-sacrifice. General

Badaxe?"

Grimble hesitated, then yielded the floor to his rival.
"I am a fighting man, not a speechmaker," the Gen-
eral said abruptly. "The army stands ready to support

97

the kingdom and the throne of Possiltum. As for myself
... here is my present."

He removed the axe from his belt and laid it on the
stairs before the throne.

Whether he was offering his pet weapon or his per-
sonal allegiance, I found the gesture eloquent beyond
words.

"Thank you. General Badaxe, Grimble," Queen
Hemlock said loftily. "I'm sure I can ..."

"My dear," the King interrupted softly. "There is
another retainer."

And I was on.

Screwing up my courage, I dropped my disguise and
stepped before the throne.

"Your majesties, the Great Skeeve gives you his con-
gratulations on this happy event."

The Queen was no fool. For one beat her eyes popped
open and on the next she was staring at the King. You
could almost hear her thoughts: "If the Magician is
there, then the man I just married is..."

"That's right, your majesty. As you yourself said in
our earlier conversations, 'Royalty has married roy-
alty.' "

While it might have been nice dramatically to savor
that moment, I noticed the Queen's eyes were narrowing
thoughtfully, so I hurried on.

"Before you decide how to express your joy," I
warned, "perhaps I should explain my gift to the
throne."

Now the thoughtful gaze was on me. I expressed my
own joy by sweating profusely.

"My gift is the wedding rings now worn by both king
and queen. I hope you like them, because they won't
come off."

98             

Queen Hemlock made one brief attempt to remove
her ring, then her eyes were on me again. This time, the

gaze wasn't thoughtful.

"Just as the fate of the kingdom of Possiltum is
linked to the throne, as of the moment you donned
those rings, your fates are linked to each other. By the
power of a spell so simple it cannot be broken or
countered, when one of you dies, so does the other."

The Queen didn't like that at all, and even the King
showed a small frown wrinkle on his forehead, as if con-
templating something he had not previously considered.
That was my signal to clarify things for him . . . that
there was an implication to the rings that I hadn't men-
tioned to him.

"This is not intended as a 'one-sided' gift, for just as
Queen Hemlock must now protect the health and well-
being of her king, so must King Rodrick defend his
queen against all dangers ... a// dangers."
The King was on his feet now, eyes flashing.
"What is that supposed to mean. Lord Magician?"
As adept as I was at becoming at courtly speech, there
were things which I felt were best said in the vernacular.

"It means if you or anybody else kills her, say, on
your orders, then, you're dead. Now SIT DOWN AND

LISTEN!!"
All the anger and frustration I had felt since figuring

out the King was trying to double-cross me, but had
been too busy to express, found its vent in that outburst.
It worked. The King sank back into his chair, pale and

slightly shaken.
I wasn't done, though. I had been through a lot, and

a few words weren't enough to settle my mind.

"Since 1 accepted this assignment, I've heard nothing
but how ruthless and ambitious Queen Hemlock is.
Well, that may be true, BUT SHE ISN'T GETTING

99

ANY PRIZE EITHER! Right now. King Rodrick, I
have more respect for her than I have for you. She
didn't abandon her kingdom in the middle of a crisis."

I began to pace back and forth before the thrones as I
warmed to my topic.

"Everybody talks about 'our duty to the throne.' It's
the guiding directive in the walk-a-day life of com-
moners. What never gets mentioned is 'the throne's
duty to the people.' "
I paused and pointed directly at the King.
"I sat in that chair for a while. It's a lot of fun,
deciding people's lives for them. Power is heady, and
the fringe bepefits are great! All that bowing and scrap-
ing, not to mention one heck of a wardrobe. Still, it's a
job like any other, and with any job you sometimes have
to do things you don't like. Badaxe doesn't just parade
and review his troops, he has to train them and lead
them into battle . . . you know, as in 'I could get killed
out here' battle. Grimble spends ungodly hours poring
over those numbers of his for the privilege of standing
at your side.

"Any job has its pluses and minuses, and if the
minuses outweight the pluses, you screw up your cour-
age and quit... unless, of course, you're King Rodrick.
Then, instead of abdicating and turning the pluses and
minuses over to someone else, you stick someone else
with doing the job in your name and sneak out a back
door. Maybe that's how people do their jobs where you
were raised, but I think it's conduct a peasant would be
ashamed of."

I faced them, hands defiantly on my hips.
"Well, I've done my job. The kingdom has been pro-
tected from the immediate threat. With any luck, you
two will learn to work together. I trust King Rodrick can
dilute the queen's ambition. I only hope that Queen

100

Hemlock's fiery spirit can put a little more spine and

courage into the King."

This time it was Queen Hemlock who was on her feet.
"Are you going to let him talk to you like that. Rod-
die? You're the king. Nobody pushes a king around."
"Guards!" Rodrick said tightly. "Seize that man."
It had worked! King and Queen were united against a
common foe ... me! Now all I had to do was survive it.

One more mind pass, and my comrades stood ex-
posed as the outworlders they were.

Queen Hemlock, unaccustomed to my dealings with
demons, dropped into her seat with a small gasp. The
King simply scowled as he realized the real reason for

the presence of my friends.

"Your Majesties," Badaxe said, stepping forward. "I
am sworn to protect the throne and would willingly lay
down my life in your defense. I do not see a physical
threat here, however. If anything, it occurs to me both
throne and kingdom would be strengthened if the Great
Skeeve's words were heard and heeded."

"I am not a fighting man," Grimble said, joining
Badaxe, "so my duty here is passive. I must add,
though, that 1 also feel the Lord Magician's words have
merit and should be said to every ruler."
His eyes narrowed and he turned to face me.
"I challenge, though, whether they should be said by
a retainer to the court. One of our first duties is to show
respect to the throne, in word and manner."

"That much we agree on, Grimble," Badaxe nodded,
adding his glare to the many focused on me.

"Strange as it may sound," I said, "I agree, too. For
that reason, I am hereby tendering my resignation as
Court Magician of Possiltum. The kingdom is now
secure militarily and financially, and in my opinion
there is no point in it bearing the expense of a full-time

101

magician ... especially one who has been insolent to the
throne. There is no need to discuss severance pay. The
King's reward for my last assignment, coupled with the
monies I have already received from the Exchequer, will
serve my needs adequately. I will simply gather my
things and depart."

I saw Grimble blanch slightly when he realized that I
would not be returning his bribe. I had faith in his abil-
ity to hide anything in his stacks of numbered sheets,
though.

With only the slightest of nods to the throne, I
gathered my entourage with my eyes and left.

Everything had gone perfectly. I couldn't have asked
for the proceedings to have turned out better. As such, I
was puzzled as to why I was sweat-drenched and shak-
ing like a leaf by the time I reached my own quarters.

Chapter Fourteen:

"Some farewells are easier than others."

—P. MARLOWE

"So, where do you go from here?" Tananda asked.

She and Chumly were helping me pack. We had all
agreed that having incurred the combined wrath of the
King and Queen, it would be wisest to delay my depar-
ture as little as possible. Massha was off seeing to deep
and Buttercup as well as saying her goodbyes to Badaxe.

"I don't really know," I admitted. "I was serious
when I said I had accumulated enough wealth for a
while. I'll probably hole up someplace and practice my
magic for a while . . . maybe at that inn Aahz and I used
to use as a home base."

"I say, why don't you tag along with little sister and
me?" Chumly suggested. "We usually operate out of
the Bazaar at Deva. It wouldn't be a bad place for you
to keep your hand in, magik-wise."

It flashed through my mind that the Mob must have
started its infiltration of the Bazaar by now. It also oc-
curred to me that, in the pre-wedding rush, I hadn't told
Tananda or Chumly about that particular portion of the
caper. Having remembered, I found myself reluctant to
admit my responsibility for what they'd find on their
return.

103

104

"I dunno, Chumly," I hedged. "You two travel
pretty light. I've got so much stuff, I'd probably be bet-
ter off settling down somewhere permanent."

It was a pretty weak argument, but the troll seemed to
accept it... maybe because he could see that mountain
of gear we were accumulating, trying to clear my quar-
ters.

"Well, think it over. We'd be glad to have you.

You're not a bad sort to have around in a tight spot."

"I'll say." Tananda agreed with a laugh. "Where did
you find those rings, anyway?"

"Bought them from a street vendor at the Bazaar."

"On Deva?" Chumly said with a frown. "Two
spelled rings like that must have set you back a pretty
penny. Are you sure you have enough money left?"

Now it was my turn to laugh.

"First of all, they aren't spelled. That was just a bluff
I was running on their royal majesties. The rings are
plain junk jewelry ... and I got them for free."

"Free?"

Now Tananda was frowning.

"Nobody gets anything for free at the Bazaar."

"No, really. They were free . . . well, the vendor did
get my permission to say that I use his wares, but that's
the same as free, isn't it? I mean, I didn't pay him any

money."

As I spoke, I found myself suddenly uncertain of my
"good deal." One of my earliest lessons about dealing
with Deveels was "If you think you've made a good deal
with a Deveel, first count your fingers, then your limbs,
then your relatives...."

"Permission to use your name?" Tananda echoed.
"For two lousy rings? No percentage or anything?
Didn't Aahz ever teach you about endorsements?"

There was a soft BAMPH in the air.

"Is someone taking my name in vain?"

105

And Aahz was there, every green scaly inch of him,
making his entrance as casually as if he had just stepped
out.

Of the three of us, I was the first to recover from my
surprise. Well, at least I found my voice.

"Aahz!"

"Hi, kid. Miss me?"

"But, Aahz!"

I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. What I really
wanted to do was embrace him and never let go. Of
course, now that he was back, I would do no such thing.
I mean, our relationship had never been big in the emo-
tional displays department.

"What's the matter with everybody?" my mentor
demanded. "You all act like you never expected to see
me again."

"We... Aahz!I..."

"We didn't," Tananda said flatly, saving me from
making an even bigger fool of myself.

"What little sister means," Chumly put in, "is that it
was our belief that your nephew, Rupert, had no inten-
tion of letting you returnYrom Perv."

Aahz gave a derisive snort.

"Rupert? That upstart? Don't tell me anybody takes
him seriously."

"Well, maybe not if "your powers were in full force,"
Tananda said, "but as things are..."

"Rupert?" Aahz repeated. "You two have known me
a long time, right? Then you should get it through your
heads that nobody holds me against my will."

Somehow that quote sounded familiar. Still, I was so
glad to have Aahz back, I would have agreed to any-
thing just then.

"Yeah!" I chimed in eagerly. "This is Aahz! Nobody
pushes him around."

"There!" my mentor grinned. "As much as I hate to

106

agree with a mere apprentice, the kid knows what he's

talking about... this time."

Chumly and Tananda looked at each other with that
special gaze that brother and sister use to communicate

non-verbally.
"You know, big brother," Tananda said, "this

mutual admiration society is getting a bit much for my
stomach. How about you?"

"Ectually," the troll responded. "I wasn't hearing all
that much mutual admiration. Somehow the phrase
'mere apprentice' sticks in my mind."

"Oh, come on, you two," Aahz waved. "Get real,
huh? I mean, we all like the kid, but we also know he's a
trouble magnet. I've never met anyone who needs look-
ing after as badly as he does. Speaking of which ..."

He turned his yellow eyes on me with that speculative

look of his.

"... I notice you're both here . . . and I definitely
•heard my name as I phased in. What I need more than
fond 'hellos' is a quick update as to exactly what kind of
a mess we have to bail the Great Skeeve out of this

time."
I braced myself for a quick but loud lesson about

"endorsements," whatever that was, but the troll sur-
prised me.

"No mess," he said, leaning back casually. "Little

sister and I just dropped by for a visit. In fact, we were

just getting ready to leave."

"Really?" my mentor sounded both surprised and
suspicious. "Just a visit? No trouble?"

"Well, there was a little trouble," Tananda admitted.
"Something to do with the King...."

"I knew it!" Aahz chortled, rubbing his hands

together.

"... But Skeeve here handled it himself," she fin-

107

ished pointedly. "Currently, there are no problems at
all."

"Oh."

Strangely, Aahz seemed a bit disappointed.

"Well, I guess I owe you two some thanks, then. I

really appreciate your watching over Skeeve here while I

was gone. He can..."

"I don't think you're listening, Aahz," Chumly said,
looking at the ceiling. "Skeeve handled the trouble. We
just watched."

"Oh, we would have pitched in if things got tight,"
Tananda supplied. "You know, the way we do for you,
Aahz. As it turned out, we weren't needed. Your 'mere
apprentice' was more than equal to the task."

"Finished the job rather neatly, you know?" the troll
added. "In fact, I'm hard pressed to recall when I've
seen a nasty situation dealt with as smoothly or with as
little fuss."

"All right, all right," Aahz grimaced. "I get the
message. You can fill me in on the details later. Right
now, the kid and I have some big things to discuss . . .
and I mean big."

"Like what?" I frowned.

"Well, I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I
figure it's about time we left Possiltum and moved on."
"Urn. Aahz?" I said.

"I know, I know," he waved. "You think you need
practice. You do, but you've come a long way. This
whole thing with the trouble you handled only proves
my point. You're ready to..."

"Aahz?"

"All right. I know you've got friends and duties here,
but eventually you have to leave the nest. You'll just
have to trust my judgment and experience to know when
the time is right to..."

108

"I've already quit!"

Aahz stopped in midsentence and stared at me.
"You have?" he blinked.

I nodded and pointed at the pile of gear we had been
packing. He studied it for a moment as if he didn't
believe what he was seeing.

"Oh," he said at last. "Oh well, in that case, I'll just
duck over to talk to Grimble and discuss your severance
pay. He's a tight-fisted bird, but if I can't shake five
hundred out of him, I'll know the reason why."
"I know the reason why," I said carefully.
Aahz rolled his eyes.

"Look, kid. This is my field of expertise, remember?
If you go into a bargaining session aiming low, they'll
walk all over you. You've got to..."
"I've already negotiated for a thousand!"
This time, Aahz's "freeze" was longer . . . and he
didn't look at me.
"A thousand?" he said finally. "In gold?"
"Plus a hefty bonus from the King himself," Tan-
anda supplied helpfully.

"We've been trying to tell you, Aahz old boy,"
Chumly smiled. "Skeeve here has been doing just fine
without you."
"I see."

Aahz turned away and stared silently out the window.
I'll admit to being a bit disappointed. I mean, maybe
I hadn't done a first-rate job, but a little bit of con-
gratulations would have been nice. The way my mentor
was acting, you'd think he....

Then it hit me. Like a runaway war-chariot it hit me.
Aahz was jealous! More than that, he was hurt!

I could see it now with crystal clarity. Up until now 1
had been blinded by Aahz's arrogant self-confidence,
but suddenly the veil was parted.
Aahz's escape from Perv wasn't nearly as easy as he

109

was letting on. There had been a brawl—physical, ver-
bal, or magikal—some hard feelings, and some heavy
promises made or broken. He had forced his way back
to Klah with one thing on his mind: his apprentice . . .
his favorite apprentice, was in trouble. Upon returning,
what was his reception? Not only was I not in trouble,
for all appearances, I was doing better without him!

Tananda and Chumly were still at it, merrily chatter-
ing back and forth about how great I was. While I ap-
preciated their support, I wished desperately I could
think of a way of getting it through to them that what
they were really doing was twisting a knife in Aahz.

"Umm . . . Aahz?" I interrupted. "When you've got
a minute, there are a few things I need your advice on."

"Like what?" came the muffled response. "From the
sound of things, you don't need anybody, much less a
teacher with no powers of his own."

Tananda caught it immediately. Her gadfly manner
dropped away like a mask and she signaled desperately
to Chumly. The troll was not insensitive, though. His
reaction was to catch my eye with a pleading gaze.

It was up to me. Terrific.

"Well, like... urn."

And Massha exploded into the room.

"Everything's ready downstairs, hot stuff, and . . .
oh! Hi there, green and scaly. Thought you were gone
for good."

Aahz spun around, his eyes wide.

"Massha?" he stammered. "What are you doing
here?"

"Didn't the man of the hour here tell you?" she
smiled, batting her expansive eyelashes. "I'm his new
apprentice."

"Apprentice?" Aahz echoed, his old fire creeping
into his voice.

"Um . . . that's one of the'things I wanted to talk to

110 

you about, Aahz," I smiled meekly.

"Apprentice?" he repeated, as if he hadn't heard.
"Kid, you and I have got to talk ... NOW!"

"Okay, Aahz. As soon as I...."

"Now!"

Yep. Aahz was back.

"Urn, if you'll excuse us, folks, Aahz and I have
to..."

For the second time, there was a BAMPH in the
room.

This one was louder, which was understandable, as
there were more beings involved. Specifically, there
were now four Deveels standing in the room . . . and
they didn't look happy.

"We seek the Great Skeeve," one of them boomed.

My heart sank. Could my involvement with the Mob
have been discovered so fast?

"Who's asking?"

Aahz casually placed his bulk between me and the in-
truders. Tananda and Chumly were also on their feet,
and Massha was edging sideways to get a clear field of
fire. Terrific. All I needed to complete my day was to
have my friends soap up the trouble I had started.

"We are here representing the merchants of the
Bazaar on the Deva, seeking an audience with the Great
Skeeve."

"About what?" my mentor challenged.

The Deveel fixed him with an icy glare.

"We seek the Great Skeeve, not idle chit-chat with a
Pervert."

"Well, this particular Per-vert happens to be the
Great Skeeve's business manager, and he doesn't waste
his time with Deveels unless/clear them."

I almost said something, but changed my mind. Con-
cerned or not, this was not the time to take a conversa-
tion away from Aahz.

           111

The Deveel hesitated, then shrugged.

"There is a new difficult at the Bazaar," he said. "A
group of organized criminals has gained access to our
dimension threatening to disrupt the normal flow of
business unless they are paid a percentage of our
profits."

Tananda and Chumly exchanged glances, while
Massha raised an eyebrow at me. I studied the ceiling
with extreme care. Aahz alone was unruffled.

"Tough. So what does that have to do with the Great
Skeeve?" he demanded.

Anticipating the answer, I tried to decide whether I
should fight or run.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Deveel frowned. "We wish to
retain his services to combat this threat. From what we
can tell, he's the only magician around up to the job."

That one stopped me. Of all the strange turns events
could have taken, this had to be the most unanticipated
and ... well, bizarre!

"I see," Aahz murmured, a nasty gleam in his eye.
"You realize, of course, that the Great Skeeve's time is
valuable and that such a massive undertaking would re-
quire equally massive remuneration?"

Every alarm in my system went off.

"Urn .. . Aahz?"

"Shut up, k . . . I mean, be patient. Master Skeeve.
This matter should be settled in a moment."

I couldn't watch.

Instead, / went to the window and stared out. Listen-
ing over my shoulder, I heard Aahz name an astronomi-
cal figure, and realized there might be a way out of this
yet. If Aahz was greedy enough, and the Deveels stingy
enough...

"Done!" said the spokesman.

". . . Of course, that's only an advance," Aahz

112

pressed. "A full rendering will have to wait until the job
is completed."

"Done," came the reply.

"... And that is the fee only. Expenses will be reim-
bursed separately."

"Done! The advance will be awaiting your arrival.

Anything else?"

In tribute to the Deveel's generosity, Aahz was unable
to think of any other considerations to gouge out of

them.
There was another BAMPH, and the delegation was

gone.

"How about that!" Aahz crowed. "I finally put one

over on the Deveels!"

"What's that thing you always say about anyone who
thinks they've gotten a good deal from a Deveel,
Aahz?" Tananda asked sweetly.

"Later," my mentor ordered. "Right now we've got
to get our things together and pop over to the Bazaar to
scout the opposition."

"We already know what the opposition is."

"How's that, kid?"

I turned to face him.

"The opposition is the Mob. You remember, the
organized crime group that was sponsoring Big Julie's

army?"
A frown crossed Aahz's face as he regarded me

closely,

"And how did you come by that little tidbit of in-
formation, if I may ask?"

I regarded him right back.

"That's the other little thing I wanted your advice
on."

Chapter Fifteen:

"In a war against organized crime, survived
is a  proposition."

—M. BOLAN

"Now let me see if I've got this right," Aahz scowled,
pacing back and forth in front of our worried gazes.
"What we've got to do is keep the Mob from taking
over the Bazaar, without letting them know we're op-
posing them or the Deveels know we were the ones who
loosed the Mob on the Bazaar in the first place. Right?"

"You can do it, Aahz," I urged eagerly.

This time, it required no false enthusiasm on my part.
While I had done an adequate job operating on my own,
when it came to premeditated deviousness, I was quick
to acknowledge my master. There might be someone out
there in the multitude of dimensions better than Aahz at
finding under-handed ways out of dilemmas, but I
haven't met them yet.

"Of course I can do it," my mentor responded with a
confident wink. "I just want everyone to admit it isn't
going to be easy. All this talk about the Great Skeeve
has made me a little insecure."

"A little?" Tananda smirked.

"I think it's a bit of all right," Chumly said, nudging

113

114 

his sister with an elbow. "I've always heard how for-
midable Aahz is when he swings into action. I, for one,
am dying to see him handle this rather sticky situation
all by himself."
Aahz's shoulders sagged slightly as he heaved a small

sigh.

"Whoa! Stop! Perhaps in my enthusiasm I over-
spoke. What I meant to say is that my slimy but agile
mind can provide a plan to pull off this assignment. Of
course, the execution of said plan will rely upon abilities
and goodwill of my worthy colleagues. Is that better,
Chumly?"

"Quite," the troll nodded.

"Now that that's settled," Gus interrupted impa-
tiently, "can we get on with it? This is my place of
business, you know, and the longer I keep the place
closed, the more money I lose."

For those of you who missed the earlier references,
Gus is a gargoyle. He is also the owner/proprietor of the
Yellow Crescent Inn, the Bazaar's leading fast-food es-
tablishment and our current field headquarters. Like
Chumly and Tananda, he's helped me out of a couple
scrapes in the past and, as soon as he heard about our
current crisis, volunteered again. Like anyone who
earns their living at the Bazaar, however, he habitually
keeps one eye on the cash register. Even though he had
closed his doors to give us a base of operations for the
upcoming campaign, there was still a reflexive bristling
over missed profits.

An idea struck me.

"Relax, Gus," I ordered. "Come up with a daily
figure for your normal trade, bump it for a decent
profit, and we'll reimburse you when this thing's over."

"What!" my mentor screeched, losing momentary
control. "Are you out of your mind, kid? Who do you

115

think is paying for this, anyway?"

"The merchants of Deva," I answered calmly.
"We're on an expense account, remember? I think rent-
ing a place while we're on assignment isn't an unreason-
able expense, do you?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Gus. Old reflexes."

Aahz's confusion was momentary. Then his eyes nar-
rowed thoughtfully.

"In fact, if we put all of you on retainer, your help
will fall under the heading of 'consultant fees' and never
come near our own profits. I like it."

"Before you get too carried away," Tananda put in
quickly, "I think big brother and I would rather work
for a piece of the action than on a flat fee."

"But, honey," Massha blinked, "You haven't even
heard his plan yet. What makes you think a percentage
will net you more than a fee? . . . just between us girls?"

"Just between us girls," Tananda winked, "you've
never worked with Aahz before. I have, and while he
may not be the pleasantest being to team with, I have
unshakeable faith in his profit margins."

"Now that we're on the subject," Aahz said, staring
hard at Massha, "we never have worked together
before, so let's get the rules straight early on. I've got
my own style, see, and it usually doesn't allow much
time for 'please' and 'thank you' and explanations. As
long as you do what you're told, when you're told, we'll
get along fine. Right?"

"Wrong!"

My reply popped out before Massha could form her
own response. I was vaguely aware that the room had
gotten very quiet, but most of my attention was on Aahz
as he slowly cranked his head around to lock gazes with
me.

"Now look, kid...." he began dangerously.

116

"No, you look, Aahz," I exploded. "I may be your
apprentice, but Massha is mine. Now if she wants to
dump that agreement and sign on with you, fine and
dandy. But until she does, she's my student and my
responsibility. If you think she can help, then you sug-
gest it to me and / decide whether she's up to it. There's
one lesson you've drummed into my head over and
over, mentor mine, whether you meant to or not.
Nobody leans on your apprentice but you . . . nobody!
If you didn't want to teach that lesson, then maybe
you'd better be more careful with the example you set
the next time you take on an apprentice."

"I see," Aahz murmured softly. "Getting pretty big
for your britches, aren't you, kid?"

"Not really. I'm very much aware of how little I
know, thank you. But this is my assignment, or at least
it was accepted in my name, and I mean to give it my
best shot . . . however inadequate that might be. Now
for that assignment, I need your help, Aahz . . . heck,
I'll always probably need your help. You're my teacher
and I've got a lot to learn. But, I'm not going to roll
over and die without it. If getting your help means turn-
ing my assignment and my apprentice over to you, then
forget it. I'll just have to try to handle things without

you."

"You'll get your brains beat out."

"Maybe. I didn't say I'd win, just that I'd try my
best. You bring out my best, Aahz. You push me into
things that scare me, but so far I've muddled through
somehow. I need your help, but I don't have to have it.
Even if you don't want to admit it to me, I think you
should admit it to yourself."

With that, we both lapsed into silence.

Me, I couldn't think of anything else to say. Up unti!
now, I had been carried along by my anger and Aahz's
responses. All of a sudden, my mentor wasn't respond-

           117

ing. Instead, he stared at me with expressionless yellow
eyes, not saying a thing.

It was more than a little unnerving. If there is one
characteristic of Aahz's I could always count on, it was
that he was expressive. Whether with facial expression,
gestures, grunts, or verbal explosions, my mentor usu-
ally let everyone in the near vicinity know what he felt or
thought about any event or opinion expressed. Right
now, though, I didn't know if he was about to explode
or just walk away.

I began having regrets over instigating this confronta-
tion. Then I toughened up. What I had said was right
and needed to be said. It flashed across my mind that
I could lose Aahz over this argument. My resolve
wavered. Right or not, I could have said it better . . .
gentler. At least I could have picked a time when all our
friends weren't watching and listening. Maybe....

Aahz turned away abruptly, shifting his stance to face
Tananda and Chumly.

"Now I'm ready to believe you two," he announced.
"The kid here really did handle that mess on Klah all by
himself, didn't he?"

"That's what we've been trying to tell you, old boy,"
the troll winked. "Your apprentice is growing up, and
seems to us more than capable of standing on his own
two feet lately."

"Yeah, I noticed."

He looked at me again, and this time his eyes were ex-
pressive. I didn't recognize the expression, but at least
there was one.

"Kid . . . Skeeve," he said. "If I've ever wondered
why I bothered taking you under my wing, you just gave
me the answer. Thanks."

"Um . . . Thanks. I mean, you're welcome. No. I
mean..."

As always, I was very glib in the face of the unex-

118 

peeled. I had gotten used to weathering Aahz's tirades,
but this I didn't know how to handle. Fortunately my
pet came to my rescue.

"Gleep?" he queried, shaking his head in through the

door.

". . . But if you take anything I've showed you, I
mean spell one, and teach it to that dragon," my mentor
roared, "you and I are going to go a couple rounds. Do
we understand each other, apprentice?"

"Yes, Aahz."

Actually, I didn't. Still, this didn't seem like the time
to call for a clarification.

"Butt out, Gleep," I ordered. "Go play with Butter-
cup or something."

"Gleep!" and my dragon's head was gone as fast as it
had appeared.

"Say, hot stuff," Massha drawled. "As much as I ap-
preciate your standing up for me, I'm kinda curious to
hear what Big Green has for a plan."

"Right!" 1 nodded, glad to be off the hot seat.
"Sorry, Aahz, I didn't mean to interrupt. What's the

plan?"

"Well, first," Aahz said, taking his accustomed place
as center of attention once more, "I've got a question
for Gus. What's the Mob been doing so far to move

in?"

"Judging from what I heard," the gargoyle re-
sponded, "a bunch of them move in on a merchant and
offer to sell him some 'insurance.' You know, 'pay us so
much of your revenue and nothing happens to your
business.' If anyone's slow to sign up, they arrange a
small demonstration of what could go wrong: some
'accidental' breaking of stock or a couple plug-uglies
standing outside hassling customers. So far it's been ef-
fective. Deveels don't like to lose business."

           119

"Good," my mentor grinned, showing every last one
of his numerous pointed teeth. "Then we can beat
them."

"How?"

If nothing else, I've gotten quite good at feeding Aahz
straight lines.

"Easy. Just ask yourselves this: If you were a Deveel
and paid the Mob to protect your business, and things
started going wrong anyway, what would you do?"

"I can answer that one," Massha said. "I'd either de-
mand better protection, scream for my money back, or
both."

"I don't get it," I frowned. "What's going to happen
to a Mob-protected business?"

"We are," Aahz grinned.

"What our strategist is trying to say," Chumly sup-
plied, "is that the best defense is a good offense. Not
terribly original, but effective nonetheless."

"You're darn right it's effective," my mentor ex-
claimed. "Instead of us defending against the Mob,
we're going to start a crime wave right here at the
Bazaar. Then let's see how good the Mob is at defending
against us!"

Chapter Sixteen:

"It's always easier to destroy than to
create."

—ANY GENERAL, ANY ARMY, ANY AGE.

"HEY, Guido! How's it going?"

The big bodyguard spun around, scanning the crowd
to see who had hailed him by name. When he saw me,
his face brightened.

"Mister Skeeve!"

"Never expected to run into you here!" I lied.

From Gus's description, I had known that both
Guido and his cousin Nunzio were part of the Mob's
contingent at the Bazaar. This "chance meeting" was
the result of nearly half a day's worth of searching and
following rumors.

"What are you doing here?" he asked confidentially.
"Shopping for a few little items to wow 'em with back
atPossiltum?"

"Just taking a bit of a vacation. That new queen and
I don't get along so well. I thought things might ease up
if I disappeared for a while."

"Too bad. If you was shoppin', I could line you up
with some 'special deals,' if you know what I mean."

"You guys are really moving in, then?" I marveled.

122

123

"How is it going? Any problems?"

"Naw," the bodyguard bragged, puffing out his
chest. "You was right. These Deveels are like shop-
keepers anywhere. Lean on 'em a little and they fall in
line."

"Don't tell me you're handling this all by yourself! I
mean I know you're good, but..."

"Are you kiddin'? I'm an executive now . . . well, at
least a team leader. Both Nunzio and me have a dozen
men to order around, courtesy of our 'extensive knowl-
edge of the Bazaar.' Pretty good, huh?"

"You mean you're running the whole operation?"

"That's Shai-ster's job. Me and Nunzio report to
him, but it's us gives the orders to the boys."

I looked around expectantly.

"Is your team around? I'd like to meet them."

"Naw. We worked this area a couple days ago. I'm
on my way to meet 'em and give out today's assign-
ments. We're going after the area by the livestock pens
today." '

"How about Nunzio's team?"

"They're about three hours west of here. You know,
this is a really big place!"

I put on my most disappointed face.

"Too bad, I would have liked to have met some of the
ones who do the real work."

"Tell ya' what," Guido exclaimed, "why don't you
drop by Fat's Spaghetti Parlor sometimes? That's where
we're all hanging out. If we're not there, they can tell
you where we are."

"I'll do that. Well, don't work too hard . . . and be
careful. These guys can be meaner than they look."

"Piece of cake," he laughed as he headed off.

I was still waving merrily at his retreating figure as the
rest of my "gang" faded out of the crowd around me.

"Did you get all that?" I asked out of the corner of
my mouth.

"Two teams, neither one in this area. Shai-ster's run-
ning the show and therefore holding the bag," Tananda
recited. "This area is both clear and under protection."

"Fat's Spaghetti Parlor is their headquarters, which
is where we can find Shai-ster," Chumly completed.
"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Aahz grinned. "Skeeve has a standing invite
to drop by, and when he does, they're ready to tell him
which team is working what area that day. Nice work."

"Lucky," I admitted with no embarrassment. "Well,
shall we start?"

"Right," Aahz nodded. "Just like we planned, Tan-
anda and Chumly are a team. Gus, you're with me.
Skeeve and Massha, you start here. We all move out in
different directions and space our hits so there's no pat-
tern. Okay?"

"One more thing," I added. "Keep an eye on your
disguises. I'm not sure of the exact range I can hold that
spell at. If your disguise starts to fade, change direction
to parallel mine."

"We meet back at the Yellow Crescent Inn," Gus fin-
ished. "And all of you watch your backs. I don't stock
that much first aid gear."

"Good thought," I said. "Okay. Enough talk. Let's
scatter and start giving the Mob a headache."

The other two teams had melted into the crowd of
shoppers before I had even turned to Massha.

"Well, anything catch your eye for us to have a go
at?"

"You know. you're starting to sound a bit like that
troll."

That sounded a bit more abrupt than was Massha's
normal style. I studied her curiously.

124 

"Something bothering you?"

"Just a little nervous, I guess," she admitted. "Has it
occurred to you all this plan has a major flaw? That to
implement it potentially means getting the entire Bazaar
after us, as well as the Mob?"

"Yes, it has."

"Doesn't it scare you?"

"Yes, it does."

"Well, how do you handle it?"

"By thinking about it as little possible," I said flatly.
"Look, apprentice, aside from doing shtick in court for
the amusement of the masses, this profession of ours is
pretty dangerous. If we start dwelling on everything that
can go wrong in the future, we'll either never move or
blunder headlong into the present because our minds
aren't on what we're doing right now. I try to be aware
of the potential danger of a situation, but I don't worry
about trouble until it happens. It's a little shaky, but it's
worked so far."

"If you say so," she sighed. "Oh, well, gear me up
and let's get started."

With a pass of my mind, I altered her features. In-
stead of being a massive woman, she was now a massive
man . . . sort of. I had been experimenting with color
lately, so I made her purple with reddish sideburns that
ran all the way down her arms to her knuckles. Add
some claw-like horns at the points of the ears and
rough-textured, leathery skin on the face and hands,
and you had a being/wouldn't want to mess with.

"Interesting," Massha grimaced, surveying what she
could see of herself. "Did you make this up yourself, or
is there a nasty dimension I haven't visited yet?"

"My own creation," I admitted. "The reputation
you're going to build I wouldn't wish on any dimension
I know of. Call it a Hoozit from the dimension Hoo."

           125

"Who?"

"You've got it."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Hot stuff, do me a favor and only teach me magik,
okay? Keep your sense of humor for yourself. I've
already got enough enemies."

"We still need a target," I said, slightly hurt.

"How about that one? It looks breakable."

I looked where she was pointing and nodded.

"Good enough. Give me a twenty count head start. If
they're not protected, I'll be back out. If you don't see
me in twenty, they're fair game. Do your worst."

"You know," she smiled rubbing her hands together,
"this could be fun."

"Just remember that I'm in there before you decide
exactly what today's 'worst' is."

The display she had chosen was a small, three-sided
tent with a striped top. It was lined with shelves that
were crowded with an array of stoppered bottles of all
sizes and colors. As I entered, I noticed there was
something in each of the bottles—smoky things that
shifted as if they were alive.

"May I help you, sahr?" The Deveel proprietor
asked, baring what he doubtless thought was a winning
smile.

"Just browsing," I yawned. "Actually, I'm seeking
refuge from gossip. All anyone can talk about is this
pack of ruffians that's selling insurance."

The Deveel's face darkened and he spat out the door.

"Insurance! Extortion I call it. They ruined two of
my treasures before I could stop them long enough to
subscribe to their services. It was a dark day when they
first appeared at the Bazaar."

"Yes, yes. Believe me, I've heard it before."

Having established that this shop was indeed under

126 

the protection of the Mob, I turned my attention to the
displays.

With studied nonchalance, I plucked up a small bot-
tle, no more than a hand's-width high, and peered at the
contents. Murky movement and a vague sparkle met my
gaze.

"Be careful," the proprietor cautioned. "Once a Djin
is released, it can only be controlled if you address it by
name."

"A Djin?"

The Deveel swept me with a speculative gaze. Since I
wasn't doing the heavy work, I wasn't in disguise and
looked like ... well, me.

"I believe in Klah, they're referred to as Genies."

"Oh. You have quite a collection here."

The Deveel preened at the praise.

"Do not be fooled by the extent of my poor shop's
selection, young sahr. They are extremely rare. I per-
sonally combed the far reaches of every dimension . . .
at great personal expense, I might add ... to find these
few specimens worthy of...."

I had been wondering when Massha was going to
make her entrance. Well, she made it. Hoo-boy, did she
make it. Right through the side of the tent.

With an almost musical chorus, the stand along the
wall went over, dumping the bottles onto the floor. The
released Djin rose in a cloud and poured out the open
tent side, shrieking with inhuman joy as they went.

The Deveel was understandably upset.

"You idiot!" he shrieked. "What are you doing?"

"Pretty weak shelves," Massha muttered in a
gravelly-bass voice.

"Weak shelves?"

"Sure. I mean, all I did was this ..."

She shoved one of the remaining two shelves, which

           127

toppled obligingly into the last display.

This time the Djin didn't even bother using the door.
They streaked skyward, taking the top of the tent with
them as they screamed their way to freedom.

"My stock! My tent! Who's going to pay for this?"

"That's Hoozit," Massha retorted, "and I'm cer-
tainly not going to pay. I don't have any money."

"No money?" the proprietor gasped.

"No. I just came in here to get out of the rain."

"Rain? Rain? But it isn't raining!"

"It isn't?" my apprentice blinked. "Then, good-
bye."

With that she ambled off, making a hole in yet
another tent side as she went.

The Deveel sank down in the shattered remains of his
display and cradled his face in his hands.

"I'm ruined!" he moaned. "Ruined!"

"Excuse me for asking," I said. "But why didn't you
call out their names and get them under control?"

"Call out their names? I can't remember the name of
every Djin I collect. I have to look them up each time I
sell one."

"Well, at least that problem's behind you."

That started him off again.

"Ruined!" he repeated needlessly. "What am I going
to do?"

"I really don't know why you're so upset," I ob-
served. "Weren't you just saying that you were in-
sured?"

"Insured?"

The Deveel's head came up slowly.

"Certainly. You're paying to be sure things like this
don't happen, aren't you? Well, it happened. It seems
to me whoever's protecting your shop owes you an ex-
planation, not to mention quite a bit of money."

128 

"That's right!" the proprietor was smiling now.
"Mor^the latter than the former, but you're right!"

I had him going on now. All that was left to be done
was the coup de grace.

"Tell you what. Just so your day won't be a total
washout, I'll take this one. Now you won't have to stay
open with just one Djin in stock."

I flipped him the smallest coin in my pouch. True to
his heritage, he was sneering even as he plucked it out of
the air.

"You can't be serious," he said. "This? For a Djin?
That doesn't even cover the cost of the bottle!"

"Oh come, come, my good man," I argued. "We're
both men of the world ... or dimensions. We both
know that's clear profit."

"It is? "he frowned.

"Of course," I said, gesturing at the broken glass on
the floor. "No one can tell how many bottles were just
broken. I know you'll just include this one on the list of
lost-stock and collect in full from your insurance in
addition to what I just gave you. In fact, you could
probably add five or six to the total if you were really
feeling greedy."

"That's true," the Deveel murmured thoughtfully.
"Hey, thanks! This might not turn out so bad after
all."

"Don't mention it," I shrugged, studying the small
bottle in my hand. "Now that we're in agreement on the
price, though, could you look up the name of my
Djin?"

"I don't have to. That one's new enough that I can
remember. It's name is Kalvin."

"Kalvin?"

"Hey, don't laugh. It's the latest thing in Djins."

Chapter Seventeen:

The best laid plans often go fowl."

—WILE E. COYOTE

"WELL, except for that, how are things going?"

"Except for that?" Shai-ster echoed incredulously.
"Except for that? Except for that things are going rot-
ten. This whole project is a disaster."

"Gee, that's tough," I said, with studied tones of
sympathy.

I had gotten to be almost a permanent fixture here at
Fat's Spaghetti Palace. Every night I dropped by to
check the troops' progress . . . theirs and mine.

It was nice to be able to track the effectiveness of your
activities by listening to the enemy gripe about them. It
was even nicer to be able to plan your next move by
listening to counter-attacks in the discussion stage.

"I still don't get it," Guido protested, gulping down
another enormous fork-full of spaghetti. "Everything
was goin' terrific at first. No trouble at all. Then
BOOM, it hits the fan, know what I mean?"

"Yeah! It was like someone was deliberately workin'
to put us out of business."

That last was from cousin Nunzio. For the longest

129

130 

^
time I thoughthe was physically unable to talk. Once he

got used to having me around, though, he opened up a
little. In actuality, Nunzio was shy, a fact which was
magnified by his squeaky little voice which seemed out
of place coming from a muscleman.

"I warned you that Deveels can be a nasty lot," I
said, eager to get the subject away from the possibility
of organized resistance. "And if the shopkeepers are
sneaky, it only stands to reason that the local criminal
element would have to have a lot on the ball. Right,
Guido?"

"That's right," the goon nodded vigorously, strands
of spaghetti dangling from his mouth. "We criminal
types can beat any honest citizen at anything. Say, did I
ever tell you about the time Nunzio and me were..."

"Shut up, dummy!" Shai-ster snapped. "In case you
haven't noticed, we're footing the bill for these local
amateurs. We're getting our brains beat out financially,
and it's up to you boys to catch up with the opposition
and return the favor. .. physically."

"They're scared of us," Guido insisted. "Wherever
we are, they aren't. If we can't find 'em, they can't be
doin' that much damage."

"You know, brains never were your long suit,
Guido," Shai-ster snarled. "Let me run this past you
once real slow. So far, we've paid out six times as much
as we've taken in. Add all our paychecks and expenses
to that, and you might have a glimmer as to why the Big
Boys are unhappy."

"But we haven't been collecting very long. After
we've expanded our clientele..."

"Well be paying claims on that many more busi-
nesses," Shai-ster finished grimly. "Don't give me that
'we'll make it up on volume' guff. Either an operation is

           131

self-supporting and turning a profit from the beginning,
or it's in trouble. And we're in trouble so deep, even if
we could breathe through the tops of our heads we'd
still be in trouble."

"Maybe if we got some more boys from back
home. ..." Nunzio began.

Shai-ster slapped his hand down on the table, stop-
ping his lieutenant short.

"No more overhead!" he shouted. "I'm having
enough trouble explaining our profit/loss statement to
the Big Boys without the bottom line getting any worse.
Not only are we not going to get any more help, we're
going to start trimming our expenses, and I mean right
now. Tell the boys to ... what are you grinning at?"

This last was directed at me.

"Oh, nothing," I said innocently. "It's just that for a
minute there you sounded just like someone I know
back on Klah . . . name of Grimble."

"J.R. Grimble?" Shai-ster blinked.

Now it was my turn to be surprised.

"Why, yes. He's the Chancellor of the Exchequer
back at Possiltum. Why, do you know him?"

"Sure. We went to school together. Chancellor of the
Exchequer, huh? Not bad. If I had known he was work-
ing the court of Possiltum, I would have stuck around
and said 'hi' when I was there."

Somehow, the thought of Shai-ster and Grimble
knowing each other made me uneasy. There wasn't
much chance of the two of them getting together and
comparing notes, and even if they did, Grimble didn't
know all that much about my modus operand!. Still, it
served as a grim reminder that this was a very risky
game I was playing, with some very dangerous people.

"I still think there's another gang out there some-

132 

where," Nunzio growled. "There's too much going
down for it to be independent operators."

"You're half right," Shai-ster corrected. "There's
too much going down for it to be a gang. Nobody's into
that many things... not even us!"

"You lost me there, Shai-ster," I said, genuinely
curious.

The mobster favored me with a patronizing smile.

"That's right. As a magician, you don't know that
much about how organized crime works. Let me try to
explain. When the Mob decides to move in, we hit one
specialty field at a time... you know, like protection or
the numbers. Like that. Focusing our efforts yields a
better saturation as well as market penetration."

"That makes sense," I nodded, not wanting to admit
he had lost me again.

"Now you take a look at what's happening here.
We're getting all sorts of claims; vandalism, shoplifting,
armed robbery, even a couple cases of arson. It's too
much of a mix to be the work of one group. We're deal-
ing with a lot of small-time independents, and if we can
make an example of a few of them, the others will
decide there are easier pickings elsewhere."

In a way, I was glad to hear this. I owed Aahz one
more back-pat. He was the one who had decided that
the efforts of our team were too limited. To accelerate
our "crime wave," he had introduced the dubious
practice of "insurance fraud" to Deva . . . and the
Deveels were fast learners.

Is your stock moving too slow? Break it yourself and
turn in a claim for vandalism. Trying to sell your shop,
but nobody wants to buy, even at a discount? Torch the
place and collect in full. Better still, want to fatten up
your profit margin a little? Dummy up a few invoices
and file a claim for "stolen goods." All profit, no cost.

           133

The Deveels loved it. It let them make money and
harass the Mob at the same time. No wonder Shai-ster's
table was fast disappearing under a mountain of claims
and protests.

It was terrific ... except for the part about making an
example out of everyone they caught. I made a mental
note to warn the team about being extra careful.

"If it's not a gang, and they aren't working against
us," Nunzio scowled, "why is everything happening in
our areas? My dad taught me to be suspicious of coin-
cidences. He got killed by one."

"How do you know it's just happening in our area?"
Shai-ster countered. "Maybe we picked a bad area of
the Bazaar to start our operation. Maybe the whole
Bazaar is a bad area. Maybe we should have been sus-
picious when Skeeve here told us there were no police.
You get this much money floating around with no
police, of course there'll be crooks around."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Guido snarled,
plucking his napkin from under his chin and throwing it
on the table. "My boys can't be two places at once. We
can't watch over our current clients and sign on new ac-
counts, too."

"That's right," Shai-ster agreed, "so here's what
we're going to do. First, we split up the teams. Two-
thirds of the boys patrol the areas we've got under pro-
tection. The others go after new clients. . .but we don't
just take anybody. We investigate and ask questions.
We find out how much trouble a new area or a new shop
has had before we take them as a client. Then we know
who the bad risks are, and if we protect them at all, they
pay double. Capish?"

Both Guido and Nunzio were thinking, and it was ob-
vious the process hurt.

"I dunno," Nunzio squeaked at last. "Sumpin'

134 

sounds kinda funny about that plan."

"Crime wouldn't pay if the government ran it," I
murmured helpfully.

"What's that?" Shai-ster snapped.

"Oh, just something my teacher told me once." I
shrugged.

"Hey! Skeeve's right," Guido exclaimed.

"What you're sayin' is that we're going to be police-
men and insurance investigators."

"Well, I wouldn't use those words...."

" 'Well'nothin'.Weain'tgonnadoit!"

"Why not?"

"C'mon, Shai-ster. We're the bad guys. You know,
crooks. What's it going to do to our reputation if it gets
back to the Mob that we've turned into policemen?"

"They'll think we're valuable employees who are
working hard to protect their investment."

"Yeah?" Guido frowned, unconvinced.

"Besides, it's only temporary," Shai-ster soothed.
"Not only that, it's a smoke screen for what we'll really
be doing."

"What's that?" I asked blandly.

Shai-ster shot a quick look around the restaurant,
then leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but remember
that I was telling you about how the Mob focuses on one
field at a time? The way I see it, maybe we picked the
wrong field here at Deva. Maybe we shouldn't have
tried the protection racket."

"So you're going to change fields?" I urged.

"Right," Shai-ster smiled. "We'll put the protection
racket on slow-down mode for a while, and in the mean-
time start leaning on the bookies."

"Now you're talking," Guido crowed. "There's
always good money to be made at gambling."

           135

"Keep your voice down, you idiot. It's supposed to
be a secret."

"So who's to hear?" Guido protested.

"How about them?"

Shai-ster jerked his thumb toward a table of four
enormous beings, alternately stuffing their faces and
laughing uproariously.

"Them? That's the Hutt brothers. They're in here
about once a week. They're too busy with their own
games to bother us."

"Games? Are they gamblers?"

"Naw ... well, except maybe Darwin. He's the leader
of the pack. But he only gambles on businesses."

"Which one is he?"

"The thinnest one. I hear his fiancee has him on a
diet. It's making him mean, but not dangerous to us."

Shai-ster turned back to our table.

"Well, keep your voice down anyway. How about it,
Skeeve? The gambling, I mean. You've been here at the
Bazaar before. Do you know any bookies we can get
hold of?"

"Gee, the only one I know of for sure is the Geek," I
said. "He's a pretty high-roller. If you boys are going to
try to pull a fast one on him, though, don't tell him I
was the one who singled him out."

Shai-ster gave me a broad wink.

"Gotcha. But anything we get from him, you're in
for a percentage. You know, a finder's fee. We don't
forget our friends."

"Gee, thanks," I managed, feeling more than a little
guilty. "Well, I'd better be going. C'mon, Gleep."

"Gleep!" echoed my dragon, pulling his head up out
of a tub of spaghetti at the sound of his name.

Fats had taken an instant liking to my pet, founded I
suspect on Gleep's newfound capacity for the maggot-

136 

like stuff barely hidden by blood-red sauce that was the
parlor's mainstay.

I had never been able to screw up my courage enough
to try spaghetti, but my dragon loved it. Knowing some
of the dubious things, edible and in, living and non, that
also met with Gleep's culinary approval, this did little
toward encouraging me to expand my dietary horizons
to include this particular dish. Still, as long as I had
Gleep along, we were welcome at Fats, even though my
pet was starting to develop a waddle reminiscent of the
parlor's proprietor.

"Say, Skeeve. Where do you keep your dragon dur-
ing the day?"

I glanced over to find Shai-ster studying my pet
through narrowed, thoughtful eyes.

"Usually he's with me, but sometimes I leave him
with a dragon-sitter. Why?"

"I just remembered an 'interruption of business'
claim we had to pay the other day .. . had to pay! Heck,
we're" still paying it. Anyway, this guy sells dragons, see,
except for over a week now he hasn't sold a one. Usually
sells about three a day and says since he paid us to be
sure nothing happens to his business, we should make
up the difference in his sales drop . . . and, you know,
those things are expensive'."

"I know," I agreed, "but what does that have to do
with Gleep?"

"Probably nothing. It's just that this guy swears that
just before everything went to pot, some little dragon
came by and talked to his dragons. Now they won't roar
or blow fire or nothing. All they do is sleep and frolic
. . . and who wants to buy a dragon that frolics, you
know?"

"Talked to his dragons?" I asked uneasily.

           137

For some reason, I had a sudden mental image of
Gleep confronting Big Julie's dragon, a beast that
dwarfed him in size, and winning.

"Well . . . they didn't exactly talk, but they did hud-
dle up and put their heads together and made mumbly
puffy noises at each other. Wouldn't let this guy near
'em until it was over. The only thing he's sure of is the
little one, the one he says messed up his business, said
something like 'Peep!' Said it a couple of times."

"Peep? "I said.

"Gleep!" answered my dragon.

Shai-ster stared at him again.

"C'mon, Shai-ster," Guido said, giving his superior a
hearty shove. "Talking dragons? Somebody's pullin'
your leg. Sounds to me like he got a bad shipment of
dragons and is trying to get us to pay for them. Tell him
to take a hike."

"It's not that easy," Shai-ster grumbled, "but I sup-
pose you're right. I mean, all dragons look pretty much
alike."

"True enough," I called, heading hastily for the
nearest exit. "C'mon, Peep ... I mean, Gleep!"

Maybe Shai-ster's suspicions had been lulled, but I
still had a few of my own as we made our way back to
the Yellow Crescent Inn.

"Level with me, Gleep. Did you do anything to louse
up somebody's dragon business?"

"Gleep?" answered my pet in a tone exactly like my
own when I'm trying too hard to sound innocent.

"Uh-huh. Well, stay out of this one. I think we've got
it in hand without you getting in the line of fire."

"Gleep."

The answer was much more subdued this time, and I

138

realized he was drooping noticeably.

"Now don't sulk. I just don't want anything to hap-
pen to you. That's all."

I was suddenly aware that passers-by were staring at
us. As strange as the Bazaar was, I guess they weren't
used to seeing someone walking down the street arguing
with a dragon.

"Let's hurry," I urged, breaking into a trot. "I don't
know what we can do about the Mob moving in on the
bookies, but I'm sure Aahz will think of something."

Chapter Eighteen:

"Life can be profitable, if you know the
odds."

—RIPLEY

THE sports arena we were in was noticeably smaller than
the stadium on Jahk where we had played in the Big
Game, but no less noisy. Perhaps the fact that it was in-
doors instead of being open-air did something to the
acoustics, but even at half-full the crowd in the arena
made such a din I could barely hear myself think.

Then again, there was the smell. The same walls and
ceiling that botched up the acoustics did nothing at all
for ventilation. Even a few thousand beings from as-
sorted dimensions in these close quarters produced a
blend of body odors that had my stomach doing slow
rolls ... or maybe it was just my nerves.

"Could you explain to me again about odds?"

"Not now," the Geek snarled, nervously playing
with his program. "I'm too busy worrying."

"I'll give it a try, hot stuff," Massha volunteered
from my other side. "Maybe I can say it in less technical
jargon than our friend here."

"I'd appreciate it," I admitted.

139

140

That got me a black look from the Geek, but Massha
was already into it.

"First, you've got to understand that for the most
part, bookies aren't betting their own money. They're
acting as agents or go-betweens for people who are bet-
ting different sides of the same contest. Ideally, the
money bet on each side evens out, so the bookie himself
doesn't have any of his own money riding on the con-
test."

"Then how do they make their money?"

"Sometimes off a percentage, sometimes . . . but
that's another story. What we're talking about is odds.
Okay?"

"I guess so," I shrugged.

"Now, the situation I described is the ideal. It
assumes the teams or fighters or whatever are evenly
matched. That way, some people bet one side, some the
other, but overall it evens out. That's even odds or
l-l."

She shifted her weight a bit, ignoring the glares from
our fellow patrons when the entire row of seats wobbled
in response.

"But suppose things were different. What if, instead
of an even match, one side had an advantage . . . like
say if Badaxe were going to fight King Rodrick?"

"That's easy," I smiled. "Nobody would be on the
King."

"Precisely," Massha nodded. "Then everybody
would bet one side, and the bookies would have to cover
all the bets with their own money . . . bets they stood a
good chance of losing."

"So they don't take any bets."

"No. They rig things so that people will bet on the
king."

141

I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"They could try, but I sure wouldn't throw my gold
away like that. I'd back Badaxe."

"Really?" Massha smiled. "What if, instead of bet-
ting one gold piece to win one gold piece, you had to bet
ten gold pieces on Badaxe to win one back?"

"Well..."

"Let me make it a little harder. How about if you bet
one gold piece on the King, and he won, that instead of
getting one gold piece back, you got a hundred?"

"I... urn ... might take a long shot on the King," I
said, hesitantly. "There's always a chance he could get
lucky. Besides, if I lose, I'm only out one gold piece."

"... And that's how bookies use odds to cover
themselves. Now, how they figure out how many bets
they need on the King at 'x' odds to cover the bets they
have on Badaxe at 'y' odds is beyond me."

I looked at the Deveel next to me with new respect.

"Gee, Geek. I never really realized how complicated
your work is."

The Deveel softened a bit. They're as susceptible to
flattery as anyone else.

"Actually, it's even more complicated than that," he
admitted modestly. "You've got to keep track of several
contests at once, sometimes even use the long bets from
one to cover the short bets on another. Then there are
side bets, like who will score how often in which period
in the Big Game. It isn't easy, but a sharp being can
make a living at it."

"So what are the odds tonight?"

The Deveel grimaced.

"Lousy. It's one of those Badaxe and the King
matchups, if I was following your example right. In this
case, the team you'll see in red trunks are Badaxe.

142

They're hotter than a ten dollar laser and have won their
last fifteen bouts. The weak sisters ... the King to you
. . . will be in white trunks and haven't won a bout in
two years. When the Mob put their bet down, the odds
were running about two hundred to one against the
whites."
I whistled softly.

"Wow. Two hundred in gold return on a one-gold-
piece bet. Did you remember to act surprised when they
put their money down?"

"I didn't have to act," the Geek said through tight
lips. "Not with the size bet they came up with. Being
forewarned, I had expected they wouldn't be going
small, but still..."
He shook his head and lapsed into silence.
I hadn't really paused to consider the implication of
the odds, but I did now. If betting one piece could get
you two hundred back, then a bet of a thousand would
have a potential payback of two hundred thousand!
And a ten thousand bet...

"How big was their bet?" I asked fearfully.
"Big enough that if I lose, I'll be working for the
Mob for the rest of my life to pay it off... and Deveels
don't have short life-spans."

"Wait a minute. Didn't Aahz tell you that if you lost,
we'd cover it out of our expense money?"

"He did." the Deveel said. "And he also pointed out
that if you were covering my losses, you'd also take all
winnings if things went as planned. I opted to take the
risk, and the winnings, myself."
Massha leaned forward to stare.
"Are you that confident, or that greedy?"
"More the latter," the Geek admitted. "Then again,
I got burnt rather badly betting against Skeeve here in

143

the Big Game. I figure it's worth at least one pass back-
ing the shooter who's working a streak."

I shook my head in puzzlement.

"Aren't you afraid of losing?"

"Well, it did occur to me that it might be me and not
the Mob who's being set up here. That's why I'm sitting
next to you. If this turns out to be a double cross ..."

"You're pretty small to be making threats. Geek,"
Massha warned.

". . . And you're too big to dodge fast if I decide I'm
being had," the Deveel shot back.

"Knock it off, both of you," I ordered. "It's aca-
demic anyway. There won't be any problems ... or if
there are, I'll be as surprised as you are, Geek."

"More surprised, I hope," the Deveel sneered. "I'm
half expecting this to blow up, remember?"

"But Aahz has assured me that the fix is in."

"Obviously. Otherwise, the Mob wouldn't be betting
so heavily. The question is, which fix is going to work,
theirs or yours?"

Just then a flurry of activity across the arena caught
my eye. The Mob had just arrived ... in force. Shai-ster
was there, flanked by Guido and Nunzio and backed by
the remaining members of the two teams currently as-
signed to the Bazaar. Seen together and moving, as op-
posed to individually feeding their faces at Fats', they
made an impressive group. Apparently others shared
my opinion. Even though they were late, no one con-
tested their right to prime seats as they filed into the
front row. In fact, there was a noticeable bailing out
from the desired seats as they approached.

It was still a new enough experience for me to see
other beings I knew in a crowd at the Bazaar that I stood
up and waved at them before I realized what I was do-

144

Robert Asprtn

145

ing. Then it dawned on me! If they saw me sitting with
the Geek and then lost a big bet, they might put two and

two together and get five!

I stopped waving and tried to ease back into my seat,
but it was too late. Guido had spotted my gyrations and
nudged Shai-ster to point me out. Our eyes met and he
nodded acknowledgement before returning to scanning

the crowd.
Crestfallen, I turned to apologize to the Geek, only to

find myself addressing a character with a pasty com-
plexion and hairy ears who bore no resemblance at all to
the Deveel who had been sitting beside me.

I almost. .. almost! . . . looked around to see where
the Geek had gone. Then I did a little mental arithmetic
and figured it out.

A disguise spell!

I'd gotten so used to fooling people myself with that
spell that when someone did the same to me, I was com-
pletely taken in.

"Still kinda new at this intrigue stuff, aren't you?" he

observed dryly from his new face.

Fortunately I was saved the problem of thinking up a
suitable response by the entrance of the contestants.
With the scramble of planning and launching our
counter-offensive, I hadn't really been briefed on what
the Mob was betting on except that it would be a tag-
team wrestling match. No one said what the contestants
would be like, and I had assumed it would be like the
matches I had seen back on Klah. I should have known

better.
The two teams were made up of beings who barely

stood high enough to reach my waist! I mean they were
small! They looked like kids ... if you're used to having
kids around with four arms each.
"What are those?" I demanded.

"Those are the teams," the Geek said helpfully.

"I mean, what are they? Where are they from?"

"Oh. Those are Tues."

"And you bet on them? I mean, I've heard of midget
wrestling, but this is ridiculous!"

"Don't knock it," the Deveel shrugged. "They're big
on the wrestling circuit. In fact, teams like this are their
dimension's most popular export. Everyone knows
them as the Terrible Tues. They're a lot more destruc-
tive than you'd guess from their size."

"This is a put-on, right?"

"If you really want to see something, you should
catch their other export. It's a traveling dance troupe
called the Tue Tours."

Massha dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Hot stuff, remember our deal about my lessons?"

"Later, Massha. The match is about to start."

Actually, it was about to finish. It was that short, if
you'll pardon the expression.

The first member of the favored red trunk team
simply strolled out and pinned his white-trunked rival.
Though the pin looked a bit like someone trying to wrap
a package with tangled string, the red-trunker made it
seem awfully easy. All efforts of his opponent's partner
to dislodge the victor were in vain, and the bout was
over.

"Well, that's that," the Geek said, standing up. "A
pleasure doing business with you, Skeeve. Look me up
again if you tie on to a live one."

"Aren't you going to collect your bet?"

The Deveel shrugged.

"No rush. Besides, I think your playmates are a little
preoccupied just now."

I looked where he was pointing and saw Shai-ster
storming toward the dressing rooms with Guido and

146

Nunzio close behind. None of them looked particularly
happy, which was understandable, given the circum-
stances.

"Whoops. That's my cue. See you back at the Yellow

Crescent, Massha."
And with that, I launched myself in an interceptor

course with the angry mobsters.

Chapter Nineteen:

"These blokes need to be taught to respect
their superiors."

—GEN. CORNWALUS

I ALMOST missed them. Not that I was moving slow,
mind you. It's just that they had a real head of steam
on.

"Hi guys!" I called, just as Shai-ster was raising a fist
to hammer on the dressing room door. "Are you going
to congratulate the winners, too?"

Three sets of eyes bored into me as my "friends"
spun around.

"Congratulate!" Guido snarled. "I'll give 'em con-
gratulate."

"Wait a minute," Shai-ster interrupted. "What did
you mean,'too'?"

"Well, that's why I'm here. I just won a sizable bet
on the last match."

"How sizable?"

"Well, sizable for me," I qualified. "I stand to col-
lect fifty gold pieces."

"Fifty," Guido snorted. "You know how much we
lost on that fiasco?"

147

148

149

"Lost?" I frowned. "Didn't you know the Reds were

favored?"

"Of course we knew," Shai-ster snarled. "That's
why we were set to make a killing when they lost."

"But what made you think they were going to ...
Oh! Was that what you were talking about when you
said you were going into gambling?"

"That's right. The red team was supposed to take a
graceful dive in the third round. We paid them enough
... more than enough, actually."

He sounded so much like Grimble I couldn't resist
taking a cheap shot.

"Judging from the outcome, it sounds to me that you
paid them a little less than enough."

"It's not funny. Now, instead of recouping our
losses, we've got another big loss to explain to the Big

Boys."
"Oh come on, Shai-ster," I smiled. "How much can

it cost to fix a fight?"

"Not much," he admitted. "But when you figure in
the investment money we just lost, it comes to...."

"Investment money?"

"He means the bet," Guido supplied.

"Oh. Well, I suppose that's the risk you take when
you try to make a killing."

An evil smile flitted across Shai-ster's face.

"Oh, we're going to make a killing, all right," he
said. "It's time the locals at this Bazaar learned what it
means to cross the Mob."

With that, he nodded at Guido who opened the dress-
ing room door.

All four wrestlers were sharing the same room, and
they looked up expectantly as we filed in. That's right. I
said we. I kind of tagged along at the end of the proces-
sion and no one seemed to object.

"Didn't you clowns forget something out there?"
Shai-ster said for his greeting. "Like who was supposed
to win?"

The various team members exchanged glances. Then
the smallest of the red team shrugged.

"Big deal. So we changed our minds."

"Yeah," his teammate chimed in. "We decided it
would be bad for our image to lose . . . especially to
these stumblebums."

That brought the white team to its feet.

"Stumblebums?" one of them bellowed. "You
caught us by surprise, that's all. We was told to take it
easy until the third-round,"

"If you took it any easier, you'd be asleep. We were
supposed to be wrestling, not dancing."

Shai-ster stepped between them.

"So you all admit you understood your original in-
structions?"

"Hey, get off our backs, okay? You'll get your stink-
ing money back, so what's your beef, anyway?"

"Even if you gave us a full refund," Shai-ster said
softly, "there's still a matter of the money we lost bet-
ting on you. I don't suppose any of you are indepen-
dently wealthy?"

"Oh, sure," one of the reds laughed. "We're just
doin' this for kicks."

"I thought not. Guido. Nunzio. See what you can do
about squaring accounts with these gentlemen. And
take your time. I want them to feel it, you know?"

"I dunno, Shai-ster," Guido scowled. "They're
awfully small. I don't think we can make it last too
long."

"Well, do your best. Skeeve? Would you join me out-
side? I don't think you're going to want to see this."

He was closer to being right than he knew. Even

150

151

though I had been through some rough and tumble
times during recent years, that didn't mean I enjoyed

it—even to watch.

The door was barely shut behind us when a series of
thuds and crashes erupted inside. It was painful just to

listen to, but it didn't last long.

"I told them to take their time," Shai-ster said,

scowling at the silence. "Oh well, I guess ..."
The door opened, revealing one of the white team.
"If you've got any more lessons out there, I suggest

you send them in. These two didn't teach us much at

all."
He shut the door again, but not before we caught a

glimpse of the two bodyguards unconscious on the
floor. Well, Guide was on the floor. Nunzio was kind of
standing on his head in the corner.

"Tough little guys," I remarked casually. "It must be
the four arms. Think you could find work for them in

the Mob?"
Shai-ster was visibly shaken, but he recovered

quickly.
"So they want to play rough. Well, that's fine by

me."
"You aren't going in there alone, are you?" I asked,

genuinely concerned.

He favored me with a withering glance.

"Not a chance."

With that, he put his fingers in his mouth and blew a
loud blast. At least, that's what it looked like. I didn't

hear a thing.

Before I could ask what he was doing, though, a
thunder of footsteps announced the arrival of two

dozen Mob reinforcements.

Neat trick. I guess the whistle had been too high for

me to hear... or too low.

"They got Guido and Nunzio," Shai-ster shouted
before the heavies had come to a complete halt. "Let's
show 'em who's running things around here. Follow
me?"

Jerking the door open, he plunged into the dressing
room with the pack at his heels.

I'm not sure if Shai-ster had ever actually been in a
fight before, much less led a team into a fight. I am,
however, sure he never tried it again.

The screams of pain and anguish that poured out of
that room moved me to take action. I walked a little fur-
ther down the hall and did my waiting there. It turned
out my caution was needless. The wall didn't collapse,
nor did the ceiling or the building itself. Several hunks
of plaster did come loose, however, and at one point
someone poked a hole in the wall... with his head.

It occurred to me that if the fight fans in the arena
really wanted to get their money's worth, they should be
down here. Additional thought made me decide it was
just as well they didn't. There were already more than
enough beings crowded into that dressing room . . .
which was as good a reason as any for my staying in the
hall.

Eventually the sounds of battle died away, leaving
only ominous silence. I reminded myself that I had
every confidence in the outcome. As the length of si-
lence grew, I found it necessary to remind myself several
times.

Finally the door opened, and the four Tues filed out
laughing and chatting together.

"Cute," I called. "Don't hurry or anything. I can
worry out here all day."

One of the white team ran up and gave me a hug and a
kiss.

152 

"Sorry, handsome. We were having so much fun we
forgot about you."

"Urn . . . could you do something about the disguises
before you kiss me again?"

"Whoops. Sorry about that!"

The taller red team member closed his eyes, and the
Tues were gone. In their places stood Aahz, Gus,
Tananda, and Chumly. That's why I hadn't been wor-
ried . . . much.

"Nice work, Gus," I said, nodding my approval.
"But I still think I could have handled the disguises
myself."

"Have you ever seen a Tue before?" Aahz chal-
lenged.

"Well... no."

"Gus has. That's why he handled the disguises. End
of discussion."

"Used to have a secretary named Etheyl," the gar-
goyle explained, ignoring Aahz's order. "She was a big
fan of the wrestling circuit."

"A secretary?" I blinked.

"Sure, haven't you ever heard of a Tue Fingered
Typist?"

"Enough!" Aahz insisted, holding up his hand. "I
vote we head back to the Yellow Crescent Inn for a little
celebration. I think we've thwarted the Mob enough for
one night."

"Yeah," Tananda grinned. "That'll teach 'em to
pick on someone their own size."

"But you are their size," I frowned.

"I know," she winked. "That's the point."

"I say, are you sure, Aahz?" Chumbly interjected. "I
mean, we gave them a sound thrashing, but will it hold
them until morning?"

"If they're lucky," my mentor grinned. "Remember,

153

once they wake up, they're going to have to report in to
their superiors."

"Do you think they'll try to recoup their losses with
another stab at gambling?" I asked.

"I hope so," Aahz said, his grin getting broader.
"The next big betting event oh the docket is the unicorn
races, and we've got that covered easily."

"You mean Buttercup? You can't enter him in a race.
He's a war-unicorn."

"I know. Think about it."

Chapter Twenty:

"Figure the last thing you would expect
the enemy to do, then count on him doing
precisely that!"

—RICHEUEU

THE Mob did not try another gambit right after their
disastrous attempt to move in on Deva's bookies. In
fact, for some time afterward, things were quiet... too
quiet, as Aahz put it.

"I don't like it," he declared, staring out the front
window of the Yellow Crescent Inn. "They're up to
something. I can feel it."

"Fats says they haven't been around for nearly a
week," I supplied. "Maybe they've given up."

"Not a chance. There's got to be at least one more
try, if for nothing else than to save face. And instead of
getting ready, we're sitting around on our butts."

He was right. For days now, the team's main activity
had been hanging around Gus's place waiting for some
bit of information to turn up. Our scouting missions
had yielded nothing, so we were pretty much reduced to
relying on the normal Bazaar gossip network to alert us
to any new Mob activity.

"Be reasonable, Aahz." Chumly protested. "We
can't plan or prepare without any data to work with.

155

156            

You've said yourself that action in an absence of in-
formation is wasted effort, eh what? Makes the troops

edgy."
Aahz stalked over to where the troll was sprawled.

"Don't start quoting me at me! You're the one who
usually argues with everything I say. If everybody starts
agreeing with me, we aren't using all the mental

resources we can."

"But you're the one saying that we should be plan-
ning," I pointed out.

"Right," my mentor smiled. "So we might as well get
started. In absence of hard facts, we'll have to try to
second-guess them. Now, where is the Bazaar most
vulnerable to Mob takeover? Tananda, have you seen

... Tananda?"
She abandoned her window-gazing to focus on the

discussion.

"What was that, Aahz? Sorry. I was watching that

Klahd coming down the street dressed in bright purple."

"Purple?"

Massha and I said it together.

I started to race her for the window, then changed my
mind. What if I won? I didn't want to be between the
window and her mass when she finally got there. In-
stead, I waited until she settled into position, then eased

in beside her.

"That's him all right," I said out loud, confirming
my unvoiced thoughts. "That's Don Bruce. Well, now
we know what the Mob's been doing. They've been
whistling up the heavy artillery. The question is, what is
he doing here at the Bazaar? When we get the answer to
that, we'll be able to plan our next move."

"Actually, the question should be what is he doing
here at the Yellow Crescent Inn," Gus commented dryly
from my elbow. "And I think we're about to get the

answer."

           157

Sure enough, Don Bruce was making a beeline for the
very building we were watching him from. With his
walk, it had taken me a minute to zero in on his direc-
tion.

"All right. We know who he is and that he's coming
here. Now, let's quit gawking like a bunch of tourists."

Aahz was back in his familiar commander role again.
Still, I noticed he was no quicker to leave the window
than any of the rest of us.

"Everybody sit down and act natural. Skeeve, when
he gets here, let me do the talking, okay?"

"Not a chance, Aahz," I said, sinking into a chair.
"He's used to dealing with me direct. If we try to run in
a middleman he'll know something's up. Sitat this table
with me, though. I'm going to need your advice on this
one."

By the time Don Bruce opened the door, we were all
sitting. Aahz and I at one table, and two others accom-
modating Massha and Gus, and the Chumly-Tananda
team respectively. I noticed that we had left two-thirds
of the place empty to sit at adjoining tables, which
might have looked a little suspicious. I also noticed we
had reflexively split up into two-person teams again, but
it was too late to correct either situation.

"Hi there," Don Bruce called, spotting me at once.
"Thank goodness I found you here. This Bazaar is great
fun to wander, but simply beastly at finding what or
who you're looking for."

"You were looking for me?"

This was not the best news I had heard all day.
Despite his affected style of speech, I had a healthy
respect for Don Bruce. From what I had seen of the
Mob, it was a rough group, and I figured no one could
hold down as high a position as Don Bruce did, unless
there was some real hard rock under that soft exterior.
Friendly greeting or not, I began to feel the fingers of

158

cold fear gripping my stomach.

"That's right. I've go? to have a meet with you, you
know? I was hoping I could speak with you in private."

The last thing in the world I wanted right now was to

be alone with Don Bruce.

"It's all right," I said expansively. "These are my
friends. Any business I have with your . .. organization
we're in on together ... I mean, can be discussed in

front of them."
"Oh, very well."

The Mob chieftain flounced onto a chair at my table.
"I didn't mean to be rude, and I do want to meet you

all. It's just that, first thing, there are some pressing

matters to deal with."

"Shoot," I said, then immediately wished I had

chosen another word.

"Well, you know we're trying to move in on this

place, and you know it hasn't been going well . . . no,
don't deny it. It's true. Shai-ster has mentioned you
often in his reports, so I know how well informed you

are."

"I haven't seen Shai-ster lately, but I do know he's

been working hard at the project."

"That's right." Aahz chimed in. "From what
Skeeve's been telling us, Shai-ster is a good man. If he
can't pull it off, you might as well pack up and go

home."

"He's an idiot!" Don Bruce roared, and for a mo-
ment we could see the steel inside the velvet glove. "The
reason you haven't seen him is that I've pulled him from
the project completely. He thought we should give up,

too."

"You aren't giving up?" I said, fearfully.
"I can't. Oh, if you only knew what I go through on

the Council. I made such a thing out of this Deva proj-

           159

ect and how much it could do for the Mob. If we pulled
out now, it would be the same as saying I don't know a
good thing when I see it. No sir. Call it family politics or
stubborn pride, we're going to stay right here."

My heart sank.

"But if the operation is losing money—" I began, but
he cut me off with a gesture.

"So far ... but not for long. You see, I've figured
out for myself what's going wrong here."

"You have? How? I mean, this is your first visit here
since the project started."

I was starting to sweat a bit. Don Bruce was regarding
me with an oily reptilian smile I didn't like at all.

"I saw it in the reports," he declared. "Clear as the
nose on your face. That's why I know Shai-ster's an
idiot. The problem was right here in front of him and he
couldn't see it. That problem is you."

My sweat turned cold. At the edge of my vision I saw
Tananda run her fingers through her hair, palming one
of her poison darts in the process, and Massha was
starting to play with her rings. Chumly and Gus ex-
changed glances, then shifted in their chairs slightly. Of
our entire team, only Aahz seemed unconcerned.

"You'll have to be a little clearer for the benefit of us
slow folks," he drawled. "Just how do you figure that
Skeeve here is a problem?"

"Look at the facts," Don Bruce said, holding up his
fingers to tick off the count.

"He's been here the whole time my boys were having
trouble; he knows the Bazaar better than my boys; he
knows magik enough to do things my boys can't handle;

and now I find out he's got a bunch of friends and con-
tacts here."

"So?" my mentor said softly.

"So? Isn't it obvious? The problem with the opera-

160 

tion is that he should have been working for us all
along."

By now I had recovered enough to have my defense
ready.

"But just because I... what?"

"Sure. That's why I'm here. Now I know you said
before you didn't want to work for the Mob full time.
That's why I'm ready to talk a new deal with you. I
want you to run the Mob's operation here at the Bazaar
... and I'm willing to pay top dollar."

"How much is that in gold?"

Aahz was leaning forward now.

"Wait a minute! Whoa! Stop!" I interrupted. "You
can't be serious. I don't have the time or the know-how
to make this a profitable project."

"It doesn't have to be profitable," Don argued.
"Break even would be nice, or even just lose money
slower. Anything to get the council to look elsewhere
for things to gripe about at our monthly Meetings. You
could do it in your extra time."

I started to say something, but Aahz put a casual
hand on my shoulder. I knew that warning. If I tried to
interrupt or correct him, that grip would tighten until
my bones creaked.

"Now let me see if I've got this right," he said, show-
ing all his teeth. "You want my man here to run your
operation, but you don't care if it doesn't show a
profit?"

"That's right."

"Of course, with things as shaky as they are now,
you'd have to guarantee his salary."

Don Bruce pursed his lips and looked at me.

"How much does he cost?"

"Lots," Aahz confided. "But less than the total
salary of the force you've got here now."

161

"Okay. He's worth it."

"Aahz ..." I began, but the grip on my shoulder
tightened.

". . . And you aren't so much concerned with the
Mob's reputation here on Deva as you are with how the
Council treats you, right?''

"Well... yeah. I guess so."

". . . So he'd have free rein to run the operation the
way he saw fit. No staff forced on him or policies to
follow?"

"No. I'd have to at least assign him a couple body-
guards. Anybody running a Mob operation has got to

have a couple of the Family's boys to be sure nothing
happens to him."

Aahz scowled.
"But he's already got..."

"How about Guido and Nunzio?" I managed,
through gritted teeth.

Abruptly the grip on my shoulder vanished.
"Those losers?" Don Bruce frowned. "I was going to

have a severe talk with them after this disaster, but if

you want 'em, they're yours."

". . . But since you're the one insisting on them, they
don't show up on our overhead. Right?" Aahz said
firmly.

I leaned back, working my shoulder covertly, and
tried to ignore the horrified stares my friends were ex-
changing. I didn't know for sure what Aahz was up to,

but knew better than to get in his way when he smelled
money.

I could only cross my fingers and hope that he knew
what he was doing ... for a change.

Chapter Twenty-One:

"Stayin' alive! Stayin aKve!"

—V. DRACULA

THE representatives of the Bazaar Merchants didn't
look happy, but then Deveels never do when they're
parting with money.

"Thank you gentlemen," Aahz beamed, rubbing his
hands together gleefully over the substantial pile of gold
on the table.

"You're sure the Mob is gone?" the head spokesman
asked, looking plaintively at the gold.

"Positive. We've broken their reign of terror and sent
them packing."

The Deveel nodded.

"Good. Now that that's settled, we'll be going."

". . . Of course," Aahz yawned, "there's no guaran-
tee they won't be back tomorrow."

That stopped the delegation in their tracks.

"What? But you said..."

"Face it, gentlemen. Right now, the only thing be-
tween the Mob and the Bazaar is the Great Skeeve here,
and once he leaves ..."

163

164

The Deveels exchanged glances.
"I don't suppose you'd consider staying," one said

hopefully.

I favored him with a patronizing smile.

"I'd love to, but you know how it is. Expenses are
high, and I've got to keep moving to eke out a living."

"But with your reputation, clients will be looking for
you. What you really need is a permanent location so

you can be found."

"True enough," Aahz smiled. "But to be blunt, why

should we give you for free what other dimensions are
willing to pay for? I should think that if anybody could
understand that, you Deveels would."

"Now we're getting to the heart of the matter," the
lead spokesman sighed, pulling up a chair. "Okay. How

much?"

"How much?" Aahz echoed.

"Don't give me that," the Deveel snapped. "Inno-
cence looks ridiculous on a Pervert. Just tell us what
kind of retainer would be necessary to keep the Great
Skeeve around as the Bazaar's magician in residence."

Aahz winked at me.

"I'm sure you'll find his fee reasonable," he said.
"Well, reasonable when you stop to think what you're
getting for your money. Of course, the figure I'm think-
ing of is just for making the Bazaar his base of opera-
tions. If any specific trouble arises, we'll have to
negotiate that separately."

"Of course," the Deveel winced.

I settled back to wait patiently. This was going to take
a while, but I was confident of the eventual outcome. I
also knew that whatever fee Aahz was thinking of
originally just got doubled when the Deveel made that
'Pervert' crack. As a Pervect, Aahz is very sensitive

           165

about how he's addressed . . . and this time I wasn't
about to argue with him.

"I love it!" Aahz crowed, modestly. "Not only are
we getting a steady income from- both the Mob and the
Deveels, we don't have to do a thing to earn it! This is
even better than the setup we had at PossHtum."

"It's a sweet deal, Aahz."

"And how about this layout? It's a far cry from that
shack you and Garkin were calling home when we first
met."

Aahz and I were examining our new home, provided
as an extra clause in our deal with the Bazaar mer-
chants. It was huge, rivaling the size of the Royal Palace
at Possiltum. The interesting thing was that from the
outside it looked no bigger than an average Bazaar stall.

"Of course, holding out for a lifetime discount on
anything at the Bazaar was a stroke of genius, if I do say
so myself."

"Yeah, Aahz. Genius."

My mentor broke off his chortling and self-congratu-
lations to regard me quizzically.

"Is something bothering you, Skeeve? You seem a
little subdued."

"It's nothing, really."

"Come on. Out with it," he insisted. "You should be
on top of the world right now, not moping around like
you just heard that your dragon has a terminal illness or
something."

"Well, it's a couple of things," I admitted grudg-
ingly. "First, I've got a bad feeling about those deals
you just put together.''

"Now wait a minute," my mentor scowled. "We
talked all this out before we went after the merchants

166 

and you said that double-dealing wouldn't bother you."

"It doesn't. If anything, I'm glad to see both the Mob
and the Deveels getting a little of their own back for a
change."

"Then what's wrong? I got you everything I could
think of!"

"That's what's wrong."

My mentor shook his head sharply as if to clear his vi-
sion.

"I've got to admit, this time you lost me. Could you
run that one past again, slow?"

"Come on, Aahz. You know what I'm talking about.
You've gotten me more money than I could spend in a
lifetime, a beautiful house ... not just anywhere, mind
you, but at the Bazaar itself . . . steady work anytime I
want it ... in short, everything I need to not only sur-
vive, but prosper. Everything."

"So?"

"So are you setting me up so you can leave? Is that
what this is all about?"

I had secretly hoped that Aahz would laugh in my
face and tell me I was being silly. Instead, he averted his
eyes and lapsed into silence.

"I've been thinking about it," he said finally.
"You're doing pretty well lately and, like you say, this
latest deal will insure you won't starve. The truth of the
matter is that you really don't need me anymore."

"But Aahz!"

"Don't 'but Aahz' me! All I'm doing is repeating
what you shoved down my throat at the beginning of
this caper. You don't need me. I've been giving it a lot
of thought, and you're right. I thought you always
wanted to hear me say that."

"Maybe I don't like being right," I said plaintively.

167

"Maybe I wish I did need you more and things could go
on forever like they have in the past."

"That's most of growing up, kid," Aahz sighed.
"Facing up to reality whether we like it or not. You've
been doing it, and I figure it's about time I did the same.
That's why I'm going to stick around."

"But you don't have to ... what?"

My mentor's face split in one of his expansive grins.

"In this case, the reality that I'm facing is that
whether you need me or not, I've had more fun since I
took you on as an apprentice than I've had in centuries.
I'm not sure exactly what's going to happen to you next,
but I wouldn't miss it for all the gold on Deva."

"That's great!"

"... Of course, there's still a lot I can teach you, just
like there's a lot I have to learn from you."

"From me? "I blinked.

"Uh huh. I've been learning from you for some time
now, kid. I was just never up to admitting it before.
You've got a way of dealing with people that gets you
respect, even from the ones who don't like you. I
haven't always been able to get that. Lots of folks are
afraid of me, but not that many respect me. That's why
I've been studying your methods, and have every inten-
tion of continuing."

"That's . . . umm . . . interesting, Aahz. But how
come you're telling me this now?"

"Because if I stay around, it'll be on one condition:

that you wake up and accept the fact that you're a full
partner in our relationship. No more of this 'apprentice'
crud. It's getting too rough on my nerves."

"Gee, Aahz... I..."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

168

We shook hands solemnly, and I remembered he had
refused this simple act when he first accepted me as an
apprentice. A full partner. Wow!

"Now what's the other thing?"

"Hmm, excuse me?"

"If I recall correctly, you said there were a couple of
things bothering you. What's the other?"

"Well... it's this house."

"What about the house?" Aahz exploded, slipping
easily back into his old patterns. "It's got enough room
for us and our friends and your bodyguards when they
show up and Buttercup and Gleep and anyone else who

wanders by."
"That's true."
"What's more, we got it for free. It's a good deal."

"Say that again, Aahz."
"I said,'it's a good ...'Oh."
"From the Deveels, right?"
. "Oh come on, Skeeve. It's just a house. What could

be wrong?"

"To use your phrase, 'The mind boggles.' I've been
trying to spot the-catch, and I want you to check me to
see if my facts and logic are correct."

"Okay."

"Now. Deveels are experts at dimension travel. If I
understand it right, they manage these 'bigger inside
than outside' houses by offsetting the dimensions just a
bit. That is, if we numbered the dimensions, and Deva
was one, then our door is in dimension one and the rest
of our house is in dimension one point four or some-
thing."

"Now that's one I hadn't thought about before,"
Aahz admitted. "The Deveels have been pretty tight-
lipped about it. Makes sense, though. It would be rough

169

to play the poverty-stricken shopowner with a place like
this just over your shoulder. If I had thought about it I
would have realized a Deveel needs someplace secret to
keep his wealth."

"So we've effectively been given our own dimen-
sion," I continued; "An unlisted dimension that's all
ours. For free, no less."

"That's right," Aahz nodded, but there was a note of
doubt in his voice now.

"What I wonder about is how many of these offset
dimensions do the Deveels have access to, and why is
this particular one standing vacant? What's in this
dimension?"

"Our house?" my mentor suggested tentatively.

"And what else?" I urged. "I've noticed there are
no windows. What's outside our back door that the
Deveels were so eager to give away?"

"Backdoor?"

I pulled away the tapestry to reveal the door I had
spotted during our first tour. It was heavy wood with
strange symbols painted on it. It also had a massive
beam guarding it, and several smaller but no less
effective-looking locks around the edge.

"I tried to say something at the time, but you kept
telling me to shut up."

"I did, didn't I."

We both stared at the door in silence for several min-
utes.

"Tell you what," Aahz said softly. "Let's save inves-
tigating this for another day."

"Right," I agreed, without hesitation.

". . . And until we do, let's not mention this to the
others."

"My thoughts precisely."

170            

"...And, partner?"

"Yes, Aahz?"

"If anyone knocks at this door, don't answer unless
I'm with you."

Our eyes met, and I let the tapestry fall back into
place.