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

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