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

grat-​ing on what was left of my ego. Massha, specialist in gadget-​magik, gaudy dresser, woman of sizemake that extreme sizebrassy, bold, and awkward, had grown into a difficult job with aplomb and grace. She had expanded her duties to fit her presence, whereas I had spent a lot of time ducking to keep from having to do too much work and putting myself in harm's way. Massha reveled in every detail. She and the queen had become good friends. Massha was brash and prickly, but Hemlock, not exactly a shrink-​ing violet herself, liked her style. She had sent Massha out on a lot of missions of goodwill on behalf of the kingdom, so when I asked about prospects for me to approach about

Hermalaya, Massha had a long list. Possiltum was not one of them. When I asked Hemlock, out of

courtesy, she snorted. “Are you crazy?” she had asked me. “I've got my own problems.” She had always been notoriously unsym-​pathetic. However, she had allowed me to take Massha with me, or rather her to take me, to meet her friends and drum up support.

“Thanks for taking the time to meet with us,” I said.

“No problem, kid! And call me Bobbie Jo. After all the stuff Massha's told me about you, I couldn't wait to meet you. What can I do for you?”

“I'm here on behalf of Princess Hermalaya of Foxe-​Swampburg,” I said.

“Fine old family. I knew her dad, Tinian. We met at a monarchs' conference in Vaygus,” Bobbie Jo said, return-​ing to sit on the divan. The legs settled around her again, making her look only about ten percent as scary. “Could that man cut a rug? Wow! And his lady, Indicia, was a sweetie, too. She and I used to exchange recipes. I was devastated when they died.” She patted the seat beside her and beckoned to me. Nervously, I sat down. “So, what's been going on with her?”

If there had ever been a cue, that was it. I unfurled the Princess's Diary and let the spell play out.

Chief Robelinda sat up as the image of the Swamp Vixen appeared. She listened carefully to the soft voice as Hermalaya read from her diary. When she got to the part about the aftermath of the pinchbug invasion, I saw tears in Bobbie Jo's big, round eyes. By the section in which Matfany threw her out and placed a death sentence on her, the Chief of the Clans of Octaroo was openly sobbing into a silk handkerchief. The image faded, and I rolled the scroll up again.

“Ay!” she exclaimed, blowing her nose on the now sod-​den silk. “That poor thing! But what can I do for her? I'm not going to invade a neighbor dimension. I could provoke a lot of our hereditary enemies into a preemptive strike. This whole dimension is a powder keg. I can't put Octaroo into an untenable position even for the sake of an old friend's daughter.”

“To be honest, I'm looking for several kinds of help. Hermalaya needs to find some leverage to get Matfany out. If we can destabilize him, maybe we can get the people to depose him. Do they owe you any money?”

Bobbie Jo waved over a page, a young Octarooble about ten years old. He came running on eight pale gray legs and beamed up at her with his sideways mouth. “Go get Hirame, baby.” The little one sprinted out of the room like a whole track team.

In a little while, a thin, wizened male with pinched cheeks and a pinched expression entered and bowed deeply over the armload of ledgers held in two of his furry arms. I took a moment to wonder why all government bureaucrats looked alike, no matter what their species. And sounded alike.

“The principality known as Foxe-​Swampburg,” Hirame intoned, peering at me as if I was an unruly student, “has indeed a long-​running item upon our rolls of accounts re-​ceivable. An outstanding invoice of fifty gold coins. Run-​ning for over three years now. They had been keeping up the interest, but not in some... time. Are you here to make payment?”

“No, I'm not,” I said, cheerfully. “In fact, we're hoping that you'll call in the debt.” “And may I ask why?”

“Oh, we're hoping to overthrow the government.” “I... see,” Hirame said, but his wrinkled brow said he didn't, really.

“Why, that's brilliant,” Bobbie Jo said, grinning at me. “And reinstate the credit if you manage to get Tinian's daughter back in?”

“Uh, well, if we do get her back on the throne,” I said, “we were hoping you might just forgive the debt entirely. The kingdom's in no shape to pay it or the interest. AND” I took a deep breath; this was the sticky part“perhaps you could see your way clear to a loan or a grant of capital, to tide them over until Foxe-​Swampburg recovers? She needs to rebuild the treasury, and there's no real prospect of income until we get the tourists coming back. It might be an uphill battle, after the pinchbugs.”

“A further loan?” Hirame asked, his round eyes regard-​ing me coldly.

“Something for nothing?” Bobbie Jo asked, her crest rising. “That's just not like Tinian or anyone in his family.” The knees started to go up again.

Hastily, I waved away the suggestion. “No, of course we're not asking for an outright gift. Have you ever heard of the Reynardan Cake ceremony?” I launched into my sales pitch. I could