Myth 13 - Myth Alliances Asprin, Robert (top 100 novels .TXT) 📖

sold out the ones you gave me. In fact, people have been bringing theirs back!” He plunged his hand under his counter and came up with a dozen pairs of Storyteller Goggles. Pal?dine glared at them, then realized some of them had been mangled.

“What in hell's kitchen has been happening here?” Pal?dine said. “Didn't you sell them the way I told you? You had all the sales literature.”

"I did! I told them everything you told me. I let them try

a pair Ñonce anyone put them on I couldn't pry them offÑ I sold every single one you brought! But yesterday there was a riot. A prophet spoke, some said," Bofus explained.

“A prophet? Not unless it's my profit,” Paldine said, raising the shopkeeper by his tunic front. “And what did this prophet have to say?”

“He s-​s-​says these aren't toys at all,” Bofus stammered. “They're b-​b-​brainwashing tools.”

“What? You people haven't got enough brains to wash! What kind of stupid twit would come up with a notion like that? Who is he?”

“I d-​d-​don't know! He's n-​n-​not from Scamaroni. He's f-​f-​from one of the sm-​melly dimensions.”

Paldine raised an eyebrow. “That narrows it down to al?most all of them. Any distinguishing features that I could use to identify this prophet?”

“N-​n-​no. He walked like one of us f-​f-​for a while, until a policeman unmasked him. I... you demons all look alike to me. N-​n-​no offense.”

The Pervect tapped her teeth with a manicured finger?nail. A magician from some other dimension, one capable of shapeshifting or illusion. Who would want to queer their deal on Scamaroni? Everybody took advantage of the Scammies, at least twice a year, so moral dudgeon had to be lacking on further outrages. The irony was that this time, the Pervect Ten were giving them actual value for their money, so the outrage was all hers. She bent to look at the damaged glasses. All that work, pissed away by igno?rant peasants. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Bo?fus wiggling his fingers in a spell to try and deossify the curtain.

“Not so fast,” she cautioned him. He sagged. “You weren't so afraid of me a few days ago. You and I both know that what they're saying about these toys isn't true. What else have they been saying?”

"That you use s-​s-​slave labor to make the G-​g-​goggles, and you are planning to make us slaves so we can build

goggles for other dimensions that will b-​b-​become p-​p-​part of your empire." Bofus swallowed hard.

Paldine's eyes narrowed. “That's the first I've heard about an empire, honey.” For a moment she wondered if Oshleen or any of the others had been around to talk to him, then decided that was wrong. They might fight each other to the death over trivia, but they would do it openly. This would have been cutting one of their own off at the knees, and, worse yet, slashing their own income, some?thing no Pervect would ever do. Bofus looked ready to faint, his long nose sagging like a discarded sock. Paldine decided to change tack. She turned on the charm, moving toward him with a sinuous wiggle.

“How can I find this prophet?” she purred, fluttering her green eyelids at him.

Two uniformed guards arrived in my cell with swords drawn. I sprang up in alarm. Very solemnly, they marched me into a corner and stood facing me. I peered up at their solemn faces.

“Are we going into court now?” I asked hopefully. “I'd like to get this all cleared up so I can go home.”

But they didn't say a word. Their reticence made me nervous. In my experience, no news was not necessarily good news. I heard footsteps in the hallway, accompanied by the sound of metal clanging and creaking sounds. I frowned. Was this my release? Or more trouble? Did they torture their prisoners?

To my wondering eyes, the newcomer was an elderly fe?male Scammie, dressed in drab brown and gray. Her hair was gathered up underneath a triangular scarf of the same gray fabric. A big clip held her single nostril closed. Not looking up at me, she pushed a bucket on wheels into the room. My shoulders sagged. A cleaner!

While the guards held the terrifying wizard (me) at bay

in the comer, the cleaning woman swabbed the floor with a big mop. They moved me around the room from time to time so she could get into every corner without having to walk past the big dangerous criminal (me). I wondered about the chances of overpowering one or both of my cap?tors, then fighting my way out of the jail using the cleaner as a living shield. I calculated my own body mass, even adding in a factor of 150 percent for all the dirty infighting tricks that Aahz had taught me over the years, and came up at least 400 percent short.

“Nice day,” I observed, instead. The Scammie guards didn't reply. They both looked as though they would have liked to be wearing clips on their noses like the old woman.

The cleaning lady continued to potter around. She re?moved my chamber pot and replaced it with a new one, emptied, rinsed out and refilled my washing pitcher, picked up the used dinner trays and laid a wrapped candy on my stone bunk. The guards waited until she had clanged and squeaked her way but again, then withdrew, bolting the door.

Depressed, I stumped back to my bed and sat down heavily upon it. I picked up the