Myth 18 - MythChief Asprin, Robert (urban books to read TXT) 📖

document were made by him. Most often, his successes have required nothing more than his implication that violence might follow a lack of coopera-​tion. In the ninety percent of the cases where the situation has gone beyond parley, he has acted alone. Seldom have his employees been required to step in. He can inflict con-​siderable damage without outside assistance. He has a rep-​utation as, er, a control freak.”

I nodded.

“Good. Then, it's essentially a one-​on-​one situation. We can use that. If I know his reputation without having met him, then he might know mine. I can meet him and try to persuade him he doesn't want to go through me to get to Marmilda and Marmel. If he's heard of the Great Skeeve, he'll have some idea about what I'm capable of. That's not to say that you don't have formidable reputations, too,” I said quickly.

“It's all right, handsome,” Tananda said, with a wink.

“'You were the top name on the letterhead. We can make use of that. Just slip into something formidable, and we'll take it from there.”

Illusionary disguises are easy for even a beginning wiz-​ard. I had learned the skill from Aahz, and it had served me well for years. All I needed to do was concentrate on the face I wanted to present to the world and superimpose it over my own features. Size wouldn't impress a Titan like Narwickius. As Tananda said, I was looking for a mien that would give the impression of unlimited power. People always said I looked too young to be a great wizard (and they were right), so I went for disguises that made me look at least fifty. In this case, I thought I had better look as though I had been around a lot longer than my opponent. I chose a gaunt, almost skull-​like face, seamed with wrin-​kles. A thin, pointed beard and drooping mustache of steel gray framed lips that had never smiled or showed mercy. Sharp, dark eyes lurked under deep brownridges like mon-​sters in a cave. A curved beak of a nose, a widow's peak of silver hair, .aid pale, bloodless skin completed the image. I considered the whole image for a moment, then transferred it to myself.

“How do I look?” I said, turning to Tananda. Unfortu-​nately, one of the problems with casting an illusion on yourself is that you can't see it. When you look in a mirror, all you see is yourself.

“You'd never get a date,” she said, with a grin. I grinned back. “Perfect. Now, we wait.”

Myth 18 - MythChief

EIGHT

Waiting is the hard part."

S. LUCCI

With the Imps' help, we set the scene. I arranged myself at the very center of the family showroom in a gaudily gilded, thronelike chair borrowed from the old man's bedroom. When impatient fists pounded the doors, I used a handful of magik to throw it open with a bang. Marmilda and Marmel rushed in to serve me the best wine and food in the house from the finest of their silver-​and-​chrome dishes. I accepted a goblet from Marmilda, who dipped in a curtsy. I bent my head to take a sip and rolled it around my mouth with an expression of distaste. Narwickius rushed in and stood glaring at me. Under my eyebrows, I peered at the new arrival. The Titan was a big creature. I had never seen one before, but Aahz had insisted I learn as many of the dimension-​traveling races as possible. He stood a good eight feet tall. His shock of silver hair nearly brushed the ceiling. His skin was a pale, metallic blue, and his eyes were charcoal gray. He wore a tunic of thick leather sewn with metal plates and a belt of braided strands that looked

like hair. All kinds of hair. Like Klahd, Troll, Kobold, Whelf, and Faery.

“Well?” he demanded. He glowered at all of us. I felt, rather than saw, Guido put his hand inside his coat to touch the butt of his crossbow. Chumley merely crossed his arms. I deigned to notice the newcomer.

“Ah,” I said, delicately placing the wine cup on the Imp woman's outstretched tray. “I believe you are Master Nar-​wickius. I am pleased to see you here at last.”

“Dispense with the chatter,” the Titan said. “What the Netherhells are you?”

“I am . . . Skeeve the Magnificent,” I said, with just the right pause to ensure drama. Narwickius let out a loud snort.

“A Klahd? I'm supposed to be impressed by a Klahd in a chair. What do you think, men?” He turned to the hulk-​ing brutes behind him. They laughed nastily. With Guido and Chumley behind me and Tananda lurking overhead in the attic, I was not worried about the muscle, but I did sense strong magik coming from the Vipe female at his elbow. Vipes, of sinuous body and narrow, black-​eyed face, possessed deadly magikal talents. I didn't like the idea of tangling with one myself, but I was more concerned with the well-​being of my host and hostess. Imps had no special protection against poison. This was magician number one. I hoped number two wasn't waiting in the wings. I was de-​termined not to let the matter escalate. I rested my elbows on the chair arms and tented my fingers.

“I know why you have come,” I said, in my most im-​pressive voice. “Oh, you do, do you?” “Little is hidden from Skeeve the Magnificent,” I de-​clared. “Such as your impending