Myth 18 - MythChief Page 4

  “Sounds interesting,” I said. I nodded. Figuring out which was the real heirthat sounded like something I could do. It wasn't a guard job, or item retrieval or any of the other things my friends did so well, so it didn't tread on M.Y.T.H., Inc.'s toes. If there was no clear mandate in the father's words, then maybe I could negotiate an amiable settlement between the siblings. The solution wasn't depen-​dent upon my mediocre magikal skills, and I could do it on my own. “This is worth looking into. You know I can't guarantee that you're going to end up with the Hoho Jug as your exclusive property. But I'll help you find out the truth.”

  Marmel shrugged. “I'll take the chance. My spell or yours?”

  “Lead the way,” I said. “One minute.” I leaned out the curtain and grinned at Bunny. “We've got a client,” I told her. “Postpone my other appointments. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Good for you, Skeeve,” she said, beaming. “Break a leg.”

  BAMF!

  I had never spent much time in Imper. After Deva, which was mostly desert, and of that desert, most of it was the Bazaar, Imper seemed cold and damp. A wind full of raindrops slapped me in the face like a wet fish. I sput-​tered.

  “No place like home, huh?” Marmel said, taking a deep breath of rain and pounding his fists contentedly on his chest. “Welcome to Sirecoose. C'mon, follow me.”

  Whereas the Bazaar was a warren of tents, wooden buildings, stables, corrals, the occasional sandstone empo-​rium, and an endless maze of curtained stalls, Sirecoose comprised winding, cobblestoned streets lined with three-​and four-​story houses and buildings that leaned over the throroughfares enough that an Imp could easily have leaned out an upper window and handed an object to his neighbor across the street. I spotted plenty of Mom 'n' Pop stores, with the family home clearly over the prem-​ises. Factories I spotted in the distance. Sparks poured out of the chimneys instead of smoke. Imper relied more heavily than most other dimensions on magik for its man-​ufacturing.

  Imps were well-​known for poor, even frightening dress sense. I tried not to pay attention as we threaded our way through the noonday crowd. They favored bright colors and wild patterns, the combination of which made me feel faintly dizzy. A rose pink woman wearing a brilliant-​orange-​moire dress pushed between us.

  Marmel's family business wasn't far from where we had appeared. Trade seemed brisk, as male and female Imps emerged from the wood-​and-​glass door carrying paper-​wrapped bundles in their arms. They looked happy.

  “So, how many wolidgins do you normally sell in the course of a month?” I asked.

  “About the usual,” Marmel said, ushering me inside the store. Only one customer was present, a stout matron who hmmphed when I accidentally impeded her procession to the exit door. She carried her parcel with an air of majesty. I peered around the shop, but nothing was on display.

  Whatever wolidgins were, they must be kept in storage until they were requested. I hated to ask; it would

  make me look inexperienced.

  A pert young Imp girl in a bright green and yellow dress smiled politely at her boss. “Hey, Treesa, my sister around?”

  “No, sir,” Treesa said. “Good,” Marmel said with a sigh. “C'mon, I'll show you the old man's room.”

  “You haven't told your sister that you're employing out-​side help,” I guessed, as we climbed the narrow stairs to the third floor.

  “No,” Marmel said. “She'd blow her top. Here's Dad's room. We've kept it just the way it was when he passed away.”

  With no disrespect intended to the dear departed, it looked as if Marmel's father had gone out of his way to collect tasteless knickknacks in bulk quantities. Even in the curio shops in the Bazaar I had never seen a matched set of twelve cups shaped like bowling trophies. The stuffed squid on the mantelpiece with “Return to Pictur-​esque Dover” etched on its side in curlicue letters nearly made me gag. No taxidermist should make an animal smile like that. Dirty postcards of naked women from a dozen dimensions had been framed in gold. A couple of them had personalized messages scrawled in the corner. I whistled. The old boy had gotten around. The bed, a four-​poster of green wrought iron, was flanked by pink, white, and black end tables that looked as though they had been thrown out of a Trollish bordello for being too gaudy. I could hardly look at the bedclothes. If dear old Dad hadn't had a heart attack from having to look at the crazy rainbow print, then he was either too tough or color-​blind.

  “So, where was he looking when he pointed at you?” I asked.

  “Wait a minute!” Marmel exclaimed. “Marmilda is com-​ing! I should have told Treesa not to tell her I was home!” He grabbed my arm. BAMF!

  I took a deep breath to protest and got a big mouthful of swirling dust. I whooped and coughed. Marmel clapped a hand over my face.

  “Shh!” he hissed. “She'll hear us.”

  It took a moment to recover, but I did without making any noise. My eyes watered. I forced them to focus on our surroundings. We stood on wide, wooden floorboards. Above us, a weak sunbeam strained itself trying to shine through a filthy skylight in an arched ceiling. We were sur-​rounded by dusty boxes and a lifetime supply of cobwebs.

  “Where are we?” I coughed.

  “In the attic,” he said. He flattened himself on the floor and applied his eye to a crack between two of the boards.

  I joined him, finding a convenient knothole in the dust-​scented floor.

  Marmilda could have been Marmel's twin. His stocky figure translated on her into a buxom, broad-​hipped frame. She had the same darting, nervous look.

  “He's not up here,” she was saying to someone I couldn't see. “Think he found it?” the other person said in a chesty, gravelly voice.

  “No! At least, I hope not.” Marmilda chewed on a thumbnail, in exactly the same way her brother had.

  “Well, he better not. I want it, unnerstand? You better find it by tomorrow, or you're not gonna have to worry about where it is, right?”

  The tone chilled me. I had heard it used on a profes-​sional basis by the Mob men who had worked for me for the past few years, Guido and Nunzio, though the speaker was neither of my former employees. Being on the receiv-​ing end would daunt anyone.

  “I understand,” Marmilda said. I was impressed by her cool. I am sure underneath she was frightened, but she held herself with dignity.

  “Good. So long as we understand one another.” Marmel could hardly contain himself until the two left the room below us. “My sister's in trouble!” he exploded. “Who was that?” I asked. “I think it's Narwickius,” Marmel said.

  “Narwickius!” I had heard the name. He came from Titanium. Even Trolls like Chumley spoke of Titans with respect. They were big and tough, all the more formidable because they possessed rapid mental facilities. When they wanted something, they went after it. Few races could stand up to them. Narwickius stood out among Titans as being above and beyond. He had a reputation for unscru-​pulous and violent behavior that stretched all the way to the Bazaar. Luckily, he seldom went there, so I had never crossed paths with him before. “How does he know about the Hoho Jug?”

  “He and Dad met a few times at estate sales and curio shops,” Marmel said. “He always outbid Dad in auctions. He's been after the Hoho Jug for years! Dad always refused to consider selling. Now I know why Marmilda's been try-​ing so hard to get ahold of it! He might hurt her if she doesn't let him have it! He can't do that to my sister! I'll. .. I'll... I don't know what I'll do. Help me, Skeeve. Help Marmilda.”

  I frowned. “Do you want Narwickius to take the Hoho Jug?”

  “No ...” Marmel said, thoughtfully. “I mean, not if I can help it. But what can I do? He's huge, and he's got big tough guys working for him. People who turn him down end up walking with crutches, if they can still walk at all. He's got a wizard or two on the payroll, too.”

  More than ever I wished that I could go back to the M.Y.T.H., Inc. office and ask for help. But, no, I was on my own. I not onl
y had to think of a solution that would keep the Hoho Jug in the family, but also deal with the problem at hand.

  “We'll see if I can help you to solve both problems,” I said. “First thing, we have to find the Jug. Your father hid it before he died. I am guessing that since neither of you have found ii, it is in that room. Let's do a thorough search to-​night.”

  “We can't,” Marmel said. “Marmilda will hear us.” “I can take care of that,” I said. “No problem.”

  Myth 18 - MythChief

  SIX

  “Unexpected company is never a problem.” H. LECTER

  Late that night, we sneaked down into the bedroom by means of a trapdoor in the floor.

  “Why didn't we use this before?” I asked Marmel, as I let myself down slowly with a levitation spell.

  “No time,” he said, following me.

  I couldn't argue with that. Time is what we had the least of. If I knew Narwickius, he would have his hoods there by sunrise.

  I had plenty of force lines near the house to draw from. With my eyes closed I could see a spiky red line that arced overhead about ten yards to the east, and a wide blue band that snaked beneath the entire street in front of the house. Within a block, I could draw from a thin green line and a faint but powerful gold line as well. Tapping into both of the close lines, I recharged my personal batteries and gath-​ered up a good supply of magik for immediate use. I worked up a silence illusion to cover the noise of our search. To make sure no one could surprise us, I also ran thin lines of fiery red force across the top of the stairs, the windows,

  and the trapdoor. Not only would those inform me of ap-​proaching intruders, but they'd also give them a shock. I hoped it would throw off their reactions long enough for me to defend us and Marmilda, who was asleep in her room at the end of the corridor.

  I found it eerie not being able to hear even my own breathing, but if I couldn't, neither could anyone else. Marmel had tried it out, opening his mouth to yell. Not a sound emerged. He gave me a big thumbs-​up. We wouldn't disturb Marmilda.

  Everything within the spell's radius was muffled, so the bedsprings didn't let out a peep when we moved the mat-​tress to look under it. Even pulling the heavy bedstead to one side to look at the floor underneath didn't produce the usual screech and scrape.

  The worst part about working in complete silence was that if I didn't have Marmel in my line of sight, I had no way of knowing where he was. While I was leafing through a basket of the old man's correspondence, something bumped into me from behind. I leaped straight into the air and hung there, a ball of force gathered between my hands along with bills and birthday cards. It was only Marmel.

  He looked sheepish. His mouth moved. Sorry. I waved an apology in return and holstered my handful of magik. We went back to our search.

  The room proved to be full of hidden cubbyholes. Be-​hind pieces of furniture, under drawers, inside books, we found more and more knickknacks. Manuel's father had enough souvenirs to stock a warehouse. I found jugs, pitch-​ers, cups, vases, and urns galore. Each time I unearthed one, I hoped it would be the famed Hoho Jug.

  I felt around for magikal traces. It stood to reason that if the family heirloom was precious, Marmel's father would have secured its hiding place in every way he could. I let out a silent “A-​ha!” as I pulled a tall, gold-​plated loving cup full of wine from between the pages of a leather-​bound book. The cup was studded with purple gemsappropriate, I thought, for a never-​empty fountain of the fruit of the vine. I waved to get Marmel's attention.

  The Imp turned, his eyes full of hope. I held up my find.

  His shoulders sank and he shook his head. He mimed a small object, about the size of a grapefruit. Grumpily, I put the goblet to one side. The scent of the wine tantalized my nose. Though it was difficult, I ignored it. I knew I had a weakness for wine, and I could never let my vigilance down. It was a good

  thing that I had never come across the Hoho Jug during the low point in my life.

  I Hipped open the catch on a tiny, carved music box that was giving off strong magikal vibes. The next thing I knew, sheaves of paper were flying up into my face. I smacked both hands down on the opening to try to stem the tide, but they just kept coming. Marmel jumped up to help me. The papers fountained upward like a geyser. I batted them aside, trying to get to the opening to block it. My hands were not strong enough. I tried using magik to block the paper inside, but my spell exploded outward in a shower of blue sparks. Marmel scooped endless armloads of white rectangles into the corner to get them out of our way, but he was being buried. If we didn't stop the flow, we'd be smothered underneath a mountain of paper. I caught his arm and signed to him. We scrabbled to the top of the heap and crawled around behind the box. Together, we got ahold of the tiny lid. I used a huge burst of magik to block the flow for just a second. We forced the lid over the box and slammed it down. I grabbed the catch with a fin-​ger of magik power and locked it solidly. The avalanche of papers ceased. Marmel rolled over on his back, panting. I wiped my forehead and looked around.

  Hundreds of folded documents filled more than a quar-​ter of the floor. I unfolded one of them. It was a long, skinny map. As I drew my finger from the indicated point

  A to point B I saw landmarks and roads as if I was walking along the streets myself. After some thought I realized that the illusion was a Triple-​D map of Zoorik, leading from the fabled Bank of the Gnomes to the Pleasure Gardens and the Zeughausbierundwienerrathskeller, a restaurant that served beer in yard-​high glasses. I tossed it to one side. Marmel and I opened more of the papers, hoping that one of them was the missing will, but they were all Direc-​tory of the Diverse Dimensions maps, yet another one of the old man's collections. I kicked my way through the drifts of charts and graphs and started going over the man-​telpiece. At least one of the gizmos on display was giving off some powerful magik.

  Suddenly, I felt a twang! Something had set off one of my alarm threads. I signed to Marmel. The two of us jumped behind the head of the bed. I plunged the room into dark-​ness. Narwickius's thugs were here now! They weren't waiting for daybreakthey were coming after midnight. Leave it to them to split hairs.

  I gathered in another supply of magik from the lines of force to replace what I had expended in playing mapmaker. In any case, the scads of maps would upset the intruders' footing. I could catch them by surprise. Marmel could no longer hear or see; it would be up to me to subdue the inter-​lopers.

  I waited. My traps told me exactly where the newcom-​ers were. They had opened a window at the rear of the house and were coming up the back stairs to the upper cor-​ridor. Patience, I told myself, as I felt my heart race. You've done this a number of times. Unless they outmagik you, it doesn't matter how many of them there are or how big they are.

  Closer, now. I couldn't see anything, but a careful out-​reach of magikal force told me that my opponent was pack-​ing at least some firepower himself. Yes, one wizard was all I could sense. If there were any more bodies behind him, they were set to rely on brute strength. I took a deep breath.

  The intruder was a professional. The door opened smoothly, not upsetting the wards I had placed upon it. I readied a handful of power that would stun my opponent long enough for us to tie him up with a souvenir jump rope from the Temple of Shirli in Lahlipop. I put a hand on Manners arm to tell him to stay in place.

  Then I leaped.

  The intruder ought to have been one pace inside. No body interrupted my headlong flight, as I slammed into the corner of the door. I saw red and orange stars dance before my eyes. Shaking my head, I cast

  around. How had he moved so quickly?

  I found out the answer in the next heartbeat. A body dropped down on me from the ceiling. I thrust the full blast of magik in my hand into its face. Its hands closed upon my throat. I grabbed back, mentally gathering more power for a burst of light. My fingers sank into soft flesh that covered steel-​like tendons. My attacker let go with one hand, and I
felt something thin whip around my neck and tighten. I reeled as my breath was cut off. I used magik to try to loosen the tie. It stretched a tiny bit, enough to let me suck in a little air. My head was spinning, but I let loose with a paralyzing blast of magik.

  Ker-​POW.

  Instead of leaving my opponent stunned and helpless, the spell backfired and exploded in a brilliant green glow. By its light I saw a heart-​shaped face somewhat distended by partial strangulation but entirely recognizable.

  “Tananda!” I shouted. It didn't matter that I couldn't breathe; my spell dampened the sound anyhow.

  She recognized me, too. Her eyes widened just as the green fireball faded. I felt the garotte around my neck re-​lease. Limply, I fell to the floor. With stars dancing across my vision, I undid my darkness spell. As I lay gasping, the torches on the wall kindled into life once more, lending feeble light to the room. Tananda stood with her hands on her hips, looking down on me. Her mouth was moving.

  “Wait,” I mouthed, and dispelled the cloud of blue magik that comprised the silence spell with a flick of my fingers.

  “What are you doing here?” we both asked at once.

  Myth 18 - MythChief

  SEVEN

  “Preparation is the key to any successful operation.” ETHELRED THE UNREADY

  When she first saw me, Tananda had looked surprised, then delightedthen her brows drew down over her pretty nose.

  “I can't believe you're cutting in on one of our jobs!” she said. “A couple of the others said you might do it, but I didn't believe it. I am so disappointed in you. I never thought you'd do anything like that. I thought I knew you.”

  “What?” I squeaked. I cleared my throat. “Cutting in? Who said that?”