Myth 18 - MythChief by Asprin, Robert (good non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

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 only 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