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

think. “What surety will you give to remain away from Scamaroni forever? Be?sides refunding the money to our honest citizens for the goggles.”

“Refunding the money... ?” All of them gasped at once.

The judge looked at them impassively. “Unless you wish to remain in our slowly deteriorating jail for the dura?tion of your potential sentences. And after the last few days, I am inclined to hand out maximum sentences. I will allow you to confer.”

He smacked his gavel on the desk, and retired from the courtroom.

The Pervects put their heads together. “We can't do that,” Loorna hissed to the others. “It'll eat up all of our re?maining resources.”

"Which would you rather have, our resources or our lib-

erty?“ Charilor countered, then stopped herself with a gri?mace. ”What am I saying? Never mind ... but we weren't the ones who were running around town last night! We can't come and go as we please. They just think we can."

“We can recoup our losses in some other dimension,” Monishone argued. “We'll take the intact pairs elsewhere.”

“There aren't that many intact pairs,” Paldine retorted. “There's no chance of getting our investment out, not when Zol Icty himself has condemned the goggles. The word will spread faster than a dance craze. We're stuck. There are very few dimensions where a toy like that will pass the marketing research test.”

Vergetta set her face grimly. “We have no choice. Someone has left us with only one option, and if I ever get my hands on that someone, I have a use for all those bro?ken sets of goggles, bubbies, and I don't mean making a mosaic.”

Paldine sighed. “I'll handle the negotiations.”

It took longer than a day for Zol to finish his encounter ses?sion. Bunny, Tananda and I sat at his feet throughout the process. By the time his audience finally cleared the meadow beside the river I had a new respect for my hired expert.

He managed to prove to me that you can sell a million books by convincing people that there was something wrong with them, and that they can only solve the problem by reading the book. When Zol spoke in that calming man?ner of his, he made it sound as though the problem was mi?nor, and they could fix it themselves by following the guidelines that he laid out. He put the most positive possi?ble spin on their struggle, promising them that even if they didn't see quick results that they were still on the right path. No wonder he was famous throughout all the dimen?sions. There wasn't a thinking being alive who deep down

didn't feel fundamentally flawed. Zol tapped into that feel?ing, but he persuaded them that it was okay.

On the other hand, he was genuinely good at picking up the traits that a race largely shared. He told the Scammies that they were too gullible for their own good, falling for the most convincing story or the newest toy. But then he sold them copies of his latest book.

What bothered me was that he didn't see anything re?motely hypocritical about that. I honestly think he did be?lieve in his own advice, and a practical way always to have it on hand was to own the book. I wondered what he would say was wrong with Kobolds.

The final book was at long last signed. We were left in a meadow of trampled grass. Zol drained his teacup and set it daintily on the saucer.

“Thank you,” he told the proprietor of the cafe. “It was good of you to lend us your establishment for such an ex?tended session. I hope we didn't inconvenience you too greatly.”

The restaurateur, looking exhausted but still dazzled, pumped his hand. “It's been an honor, sir. An honor! Zol Icty, in my cafe!”

He shook hands with all of us. I noticed that his staff of three were sprawled in chairs against the wall. No pastries or sandwiches remained under the glass domes, and the huge containers of the local lemonade, tea, coffee and milk?shakes had long ago been emptied. They hadn't lost a thing by having a famous author descend upon them for an im?promptu shrink-​fest.

Zol paid his own tea bill, over the protest of the cafe owner, and blipped us all back to Wuh.

The bamf of our return brought Gleep running from the stables, where he must have been taking a nap. “Gleep!” he cried joyfully.

I managed to fend him off before he knocked me over. Zol petted him and produced a few bags of Kobold snacks out of his satchel for him. Gleep settled down on the floor to crunch up the shiny packets.

I looked around. Montgomery's inn seemed to be com?pletely vacant. Not one of the tables underneath the ferns was occupied. The lights behind the bar had been extin?guished. I glanced out into the street. It was devoid of Wuhses.

“Hello?” I called.

Tananda frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Where is everyone?” Bunny said.

Gleep's pointed ears perked up. In a moment, I heard the noise that his more sensitive hearing had detected: the sound of footsteps rushing towards us. Down the stairs came Montgomery, the innkeeper. He rushed towards us with arms extended.

“I am overjoyed to see you!” he exclaimed, embracing us all one at a time. “Welcome back, Master Zol,” he greeted the author shyly. “We are very glad that you are safe.”

“You are very kind,” Zol beamed. “It was a productive trip, I must say. So many minds cleared! And how have