Myth 18 - MythChief Page 7

  “Sure to be,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers be-​hind my back. “I don't recall the name ...”

  “All right!” Narwickius said, shaking off my hand. He rose magnificently and drew his hand up to his chest. “I must get to the viewing before all of the good things are taken. We leave this wretched place, never to return. I, Nar-​wickius, state this to be true.”

  “Good,” I said. “Nice doing business with you.”

  He gave me a haughty look and waved a hand.

  BAMF! All of the Titans vanished.

  “Nice work, Skeeve,” Guido croaked out.

  “Which one is it?” Chumley asked, kicking at the de-​bris on the floor.

  I reached around the chunk of wood that had once been a handsome mantelpiece and drew out a rainbow-​colored teddy bear.

  “This is it,” I said. “I hope. Let's go see Marmilda and Marmel.” The Imps were asleep, sitting up on a couch with their arms around one another's necks. “Sweet family concord, what?” Chumley asked. I nudged them awake with the toe of my shoe. They leaped up. “This is all your fault,” Marmilda exclaimed. Marmel went on guard. “I didn't make a deal with a Titan!” “I didn't have a choice!”

  “If you had told me you promised our inheritance to someone else, I might have understood.” “If you hadn't been so greedy, it might have been pos-​sible to hold a civil conversation with you!” “Excuse me,” I said, waving a hand between them. The Imp siblings turned to glare at me. “He's gone.” “What?” They both turned to look at us. “Narwickius gave up,” I explained. “It took a while, but it's over. I don't think he's ever coming back.”

  Marmilda jumped up and hugged us all. “Oh, thank you! You've all been so wonderful I... I just didn't know what to do. You just came in on such short notice, took charge, and you were all so calm. I was terrified! I don't know about Marmel...”

  “I was terrified, too,” the Imp admitted.

  “. .. But I just absolutely have to say that everything we ever heard about M.Y.T.H., Inc. is true.” The siblings beamed at us.

  We all fell into an awkward silence. I was starting to get used to them. Guido cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks, ma'am. We endeavor to give satisfaction.” “Oh, you have!”

  “Narwickius's departure fulfills the terms of our con-​tract,” Tananda said. “I hate to be a hero and run, but we have got some other appointments today.”

  “Oh, of course,” Marmilda said. She gave Marmel an embarrassed glance. “Six gold coins was your fee, I think you said?”

  “That's what we discussed,” Guido said, “but we couldn't have done it without Mister Skeeve, so you'd better give him half of the dough.”

  “No!” I protested. Tananda gave me a sharp look that told me “not in front of the clients!” I subsided.

  I turned to Marmilda with a smile. “Internal bookkeep-​ing. Actually, if you will give it all to Big Crunch, he'll make sure the money gets back to our accountant and is distributed properly.”

  “Of course!” the Imp female said, counting coins into the enormous purple palm. “Thank you so much. I am go-​ing to tell every one of my customers how wonderful you have been.”

  “Yeah,” Guido grunted. He gave me a sideways glance. “Well, we gotta go. Nice hangin' wit' you, Boss.” “The same, Guido,” I said, putting out a hand. He gripped it. Tananda gave me an all-​encompassing hug. “Don't be a stranger.” “I won't,” I said.

  “Bye,” Big Crunch, a.k.a. Chumley said laconically. Tananda went through some magikal gyrations and ... BAMF!

  “Well,” I said to the two puzzled Imps standing in front of me. “Marmel made a side deal with me. Your father's Hoho Jug is a valuable artifact. Not that he didn't leave you plenty of inheritance ...”

  “Most of which is lying on the sidewalk outside,” Marmilda pointed out.

  “... But this is the only thing you two are really fight-​ing over,” I concluded. I brandished my rainbow-​colored stuffed bear.

  “That?” Marmilda asked, with every evidence of dis-​taste.

  I hastily undid my illusion, revealing the terrifying smile of the stuffed squid from Dover. “That?” she repeated.

  “That,” I said. “If you're the rightful heir to this piece, it should regain its ordinary appearance if you call it.”

  “That's easy.” Marine! said. He held out a hand. “C'mere, Hoho Jug!” The squid hung there in my hand. “Then it's mine,” Marmilda said, with a pleased smile. “Hoho Jug!” The squid didn't change for her, either.

  “What is this?” Marmel demanded. “Did you do some-​thing to it? It can't belong to neither of us! We're Dad's only heirs!”

  A slow smile made its way from one of my ears to the other. “It doesn't belong to either of you. I will bet my fee that it belongs to BOTH of you. Didn't you tell me you were sitting together when he said he wanted you to have it?”

  They looked at one another. “That only makes sense,” Marmilda said. “No, it doesn't,” Marmel whined. “I want it for myself! You'll just try and sell it.”

  “Selling it could help pull us out of debt.” “It's our heritage!”

  “Hey, hey, HEY!” I shouted over the escalating voices. “Look, if you two are going to fight about it, I'll go find Narwickius and tell him I located it after all. He might buy-​it, or he might tear your heads off and take it after all he went through trying to find it. You can decide if you want to keep it in the family or not later on, after I go home. All right?” “Okay,” Marmel said, sulkily. “What do you say, sis?” “Yes.”

  “Good.” I brandished the squid at the pair of Imps. “Talk to it.”

  “And that was it?” Bunny asked, as I sat back in my chair with my feet on my desk. “That disgusting squid was the Hoho Jug?”

  “Yup,” I said, feeling pretty pleased with myself. Gleep sidled up and put his head in my lap, looking for a scratch behind his ears. I scrubbed his scales with my fingernails. “When both of them called it, it morphed back into a ewer. Incidentally, it does echo back 'ho-​ho' when you holler into it. One question answered, one fee collected. We're in business.”

  “What about the others.'” she asked. I didn't have to ask who she meant. “What about them?” “What did they say?” I shrugged. “It was a little awkward, but it all worked out.”

  Myth 18 - MythChief

  TEN

  “Of course, that's in my job description.”

  SWEENEY TODD

  My new office was off and running. I didn't expect to be inundated by old friends and former employees, the latter a happy subset of the first category, but Bunny and Tananda must have spread the word that I was starting out slowly, and I would ask for help if I needed it. Many people who had worked for or with M.Y.T.H., Inc. stopped by to offer support, but no one was pushing. Exactly. Yet. I had a feel-​ing that the dam would burst at some point, and I had to work out precisely where I was going with my new busi-​ness before I started hiring. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but I needed to have the right answer for myself, first. In a way, I was my own first and ongoing client, and I had to report that no progress had been made yet on MY question.

  Bunny started talking about advertising me on the Crystal Ether Network through her PDA, or Perfectly Darling Assistant, a little red disk of a gadget that she called Bytina. What about rewriting my card, or taking out ads, hiring a flying dragon to write my name in the sky?

  “It's too soon,” I insisted. “One success in a row is not an indicator of a viable business.” But I found myself drumming my fingers on my desk, waiting for something to happen.

  I was so relieved that the others weren't upset with me that the fact I wasn't doing much business didn't bother me as much as it might have. I had made peace with my friends, and I was happy about that, but it wasn't going to be smooth sailing yet. I still had to figure out how to describe my new profession so it wouldn't lead to so much confusion.

  “... But they keep asking me, what do you do with an in-​between sk
ill? A talent no one knows how to harness?”

  “What?”

  I startled out of my daydream. The minute girl in the blue dress on the guest chair twisted a handkerchief be-​tween her fingers. She gave me a shy smile, which made her small oval face lovely.

  “I'm sorry. I know my voice isn't very loud,” the girl said. She was a Pixie, a denizen of Pix. “I mean, my par-​ents think I should just train harder, but I don't want to be a flower fairy. Flowers make me sneeze. Oh, I know there are spells to counteract that, but I don't... I don't like flowers,” she said, with a defiant scowl, as if daring me to contradict her. Her little nose turned pink. “I just could never be as good as my friends. My mother is the foremost rose sculptor in all of Pix. I can't equal her, but she wants me to follow in her footsteps. I just want to make my own way. I just don't know how.”

  “So,” I said slowly, feeling as if I was asking myself, “what is it you do?”

  She looked happy, as though no one had ever voiced the question before. She fluttered her tiny hands. From be-​tween her fingers, a flash of red appeared. A brilliantly colored bird took shape and took wing. It soared up over my head, then angled off, circling the ceiling of my office.

  Gleep's head sprang up from his forepaws, and he bounded after it. “Gleep, no!” I said, jumping up. I lunged for his collar.

  Too late. His jaws snapped shut on the bird. He landed, his blue eyes wide. His tongue snaked out, as though tast-​ing the air. I was aghast. I turned to Flinna.

  “Gee, I'm sorry about your pet,” I said. “Gleep doesn't usually misbehave like that.”

  Flinna smiled at me. “It's all right. It wasn't real.” “Wasn't real?” I realized I was echoing her. “What was it?”

  “It's a kind of fairy illusion,” she explained. “I can do hundreds of them, all completely accurate. They feel real, but you can't keep them. Once you touch them, they go pop.”

  “Really?” I asked. So that was why Gleep was casting around and looking confused. “Wow. That is a special tal-​ent.”

  “But useless,” Flinna said, hanging her head. “I don't know how to do anything but flower magik and illusionary birds. I can't make a living at either one. What can I do withwell, what I can do?”

  “Let's see if I can find someplace for you,” I said, rising and extending my hand. “I know a lot of people here in the Bazaar.”

  The Geek stroked his chin. The wily Deveel and I had been on opposite sides in several deals. As far as I could tell, he still owed me for some shady dealing that nearly killed some students of mine.4

  “I don't know, Skeeve,” he said, watching Flinna put varied and colorful waterfowl in a row, each a masterpiece of magikal art. “I mean, don't get me wrongthey're great ducks, but my new show, 'Teal or No Teal,' is only in the planning stages. It could be months before I could use the girl.”

  Flinna looked devastated. “Oh,” she said.

  “Do you know anyone who is hiring?” I asked, feeling just as dismayed but refusing to show it. “She's willing to travel.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and resumed chin-​stroking. “Well, you could talk to Hyam. He's got a variety show heading for the provinces. The pay's so-​so, but you get expenses and meals.”

  “We'll try him,” I said, rising and offering my hand. “You still owe me, but thanks.”

  “Hey, glad to help, glad to help,” the Geek said. “Don't hurry back, huh?” He leaned out and pinched the plumply pretty Deveel at his reception desk on the cheek. “Marlys, send in my next appointment.”

  We sat in the second row of the huge, echoing theater. Flinna watched openmouthed as act after act mounted the stage and performed. Illusionists, fire-​eaters, high-​wire walkers, prestidigitators, ventriloquists, and almost all of them doing their tricks without benefit of magik. I was impressed.

  “Ya gotta be able to do it either way,” the green-​skinned Sittacommedian at my side informed me. "We travel to all the dimensions, Klah, Perv, Imper, Kobol. If there's no force lines, you still gotta be entertaining. I don't fancy

  4. A complete account can be found in that irreplaceable volume Class Dis-​Mythed.

  bein' run out of town on a rail. Had it happen enough times." He extended a forearm, and I could see pucker marks in his green skin. I guessed they had been caused by hot tar and feathers being applied.

  “Well, I don't know much about show business,” I ad-​mitted.

  “No kiddin',” Hyam said, stubbing his cigar out on the back of the chair ahead of him. He bent forward to yell at the voluptuous female on the stage. “Honey, either shake it or get out of here! I'm a busy man!” He leaned back. “If you knew anything, you wouldn'a gone to the Geek for advice. He don't know nothin'.”

  “He seems to be successful,” I said.

  “Smoke and minors,” Hyam said. “Just don't invest money with him.” He turned to Flinna. “Okay, honey, wow me.”

  Flinna looked delicate and lost in the huge beam of the spotlight. She hesitated, and I gave her an encouraging gesture. She shot me a quick smile and raised her hands. I crossed my fingers. Success here would validate her faith in mc, and I could use the shot of confidence.

  The flower fairy started producing her illusions. I heard murmurs from the other acts sitting in the dark behind us that rose to startled exclamations of pleasure as wrens, robins, jays, finches, canaries, and juncos flew from her hands. She moved on to bigger species: owls, falcons, gulls and a huge, brown-​winged pelican. The air was full of them. She spread her hands farther apart. I was agog as Flinna made a blue heron, a phoenix, three different ea-​gles, six parrots, and an ostrich. We had discussed her grand finale. Mentally, I wished her good luck. Hyam gave a puzzled grunt as she moved over to one side of the stage and opened her arms as far as they would go. A gigantic beak appeared between them. She walked backward through the spotlight toward the other side of the stage, moving her fingers all the time as the enormous roc took shape. Red feathers the size of her body came into being. As soon as it was finished, the illusory bird sat up and let out a squawk that shook the theater. The other performers behind me burst into applause and cheers. Trembling with shyness, Flinna came downstage and clasped her hands together and waited.

  I turned to Hyam, who was trembling, too. but with rage. His face had turned an ugly purple. He glared at Flinna.

  “For that, the Geek sent you to me?” he bellowed. “That's all you do? Bird imitations?” He stood up and leveled a fin-​ger toward the exit. “Geddada here!”

  “I don't believe it,” I said, trying to cheer her up as we trudged out of the theater. “I think he was just jealous. I have never seen anything like that. And did you hear the others? They loved it.”

  “They don't matter,” Flinna said, miserably. The little female's wings drooped low. “He hated it. I'll never find a place.”

  “Oh, yes, you will” I said, giving her a pat on the shoul-​der. “We just haven't made the right connection yet.”

  I took her back to my office. I left her petting Gleep and went to talk to Bunny.

  “I admit that there probably isn't a lot of call for insub-​stantial bird images,” Bunny said, but she flipped Bytina open and set the little PDA to work. “I'll check the Crystal Ether Network for want ads.”

  Thanks to advances in magik, most of them pioneered by the Kobolds, reading crystal balls was no longer re-​served for people with their own talent, or even in magikal dimensions. Crystals and related philosophical devices like Bytina seemed to generate their own auras. As a result, a virtual industry had sprung up to provide readers with something to look at when they weren't predicting the fu-​ture. Theatrically minded wizards put on plays. People of every race with way too much time on their hands made images of themselves or their pets. Naturally, Deveels and Perverts figured out a way of promoting commerce through the ether. Practical as ever, the Kobolds themselves began to solicit lists of needs and wants, gathered across the di-​mensions, which one could read as clearly as a scr
oll on one's own tabletop. It was through these want ads that we read now.

  "Wouldst thou see the universe as more beautiful? Be-​come a traveling peddler in Avalon goods and

  render those you encounter more fair.“ ”Troll seek pretty girl. Marry and have babies."

  “Earn five hundred gold coins every week in your spare time! Send a nonrefundable twenty-​coin deposit for infor-​mation and a free kit to Evondell, the Bazaar, Deva.”

  “. . . Here we go,” I said, pointing to an image in crabbed green handwriting in one corner of the image.

  The ad read, “Ecologically minded game warden to oversee target range on royal estate. Must love animals. Preserve endangered species for the sake of the royal hunt.”

  I frowned. “Gee. it sounds like they don't know what they want.” “Don't you know this name?” Bunny asked. “Prince Bosheer of Whelmet.”

  I frowned, it sounded familiar. Yes, Massha had told me about him. She had borrowed Gleep to do a favor for a friend, who had ended up married to Prince Bosheer.'

  “Yes. I do,” I said. “Massha said he's a good guy.” “Should we answer this ad?” “Oh. I don't know,” Flinna said, timidly. 5. The exciting details appear in ''.Myth-​ter Right," one of the many fine stories in Myth-​Told Tales. I gave her an encouraging smile.

  “Why not? It's worth a try. He can always say no. Well cheek with Massha to see what she thinks.” Massha was enthusiastic about the idea of introducing Flinna to Prince Bosheer. “He'll think it's a hoot,” she promised, so we bamfed over to Whelmet.

  The Crown Prince and Princess were a big hearty cou-​ple. I liked them immediately Gloriannamarjolie had thick blond braids bleached lighter by the sun surrounding a sun-​browned face in which twinkled very intelligent blue eyes. Her husband, a Whelt, was big. handsome, and friendly, like most of his kind. The throne room, a huge beamed hall, was hung with as many hunting trophies as royal banners. Weapons of every description and some that defied de-​scription hung along the walls.