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

about to milk that nothing for a lot more money. All for the sake of Foxe-​Swampburg, of course,” I added, for the sake of the client.

Matfany's troubled expression finally broke out in words.

“Mister Aahz, I'm not sure I like this too much. The people in Foxe-​Swampburgthey've always gotten by just calling things by their names.”

“You don't have to use 'em,” I pointed out. “No matter what you heard me say back there, naming rights doesn't convey any other rights to the sponsors. They get to put their names on a map. Whoop de doo. You don't hear about people trying to get ownership of the points they name in the Interdimensional Star Registry, do you?”

“Never heard of that,” Matfany said. “Kinda the same thing, is it?”

“You bet. Some bright thinkerI bet he was a Pervect promised some sucker that if he gave him a couple of gold pieces, that he could pick out any star on the map except the fancy ones and name it whatever he wanted. By the last count there were about a million named for girlfriends, a hundred thousand named after pets, and ten million named for NASCAR.”

“What's NASCAR?” Matfany asked.

“Never mind,” I said briskly. “Look, the point is that we've earned three hundred and twenty gold coins, half of it in hand. How much does the kingdom need to get out of debt?”

“About twenty times that much to start with,” Matfany said, gloomily. "Mr. Aahz, there just isn't enough to sell to get that kind of capital.

“Leave that to me,” I said confidently. “I've got some more ideas.” “That, sir, is what I fear,” Matfany said.

Myth 18 - MythChief

NINETEEN

“There's no problem with deficit spending.”

R. MUGABE

Hermalaya held out one slender hand to the choconut ty-​coon. He took it in his big paw, looking dazed and pleased.

“Mister Oatis, it has just been a pleasure?” she said. “Oh, no, pretty lady, the pleasure was all ours!” he ex-​claimed. “What a day!”

Nunzio, Chumley, and I had all of her ceremonial gear locked up in their respective cases. Massha stood beside the princess, an honorary lady-​in-​waiting. We all had the system down to the point where we could get the Cake room cleaned up in under half an hour, including magikal deep cleaning, thanks to a trumpet-​shaped gadget Massha had unearthed in a wizard's estate sale in Plupert. Sebellum Oatis's nine children were lined up wide-​eyed and quiet, waiting for their chance to say good-​bye to the prin-​cess.

“I don't know how you did it,” Oatis's wife whispered to her, “but they've been good all afternoon! And all with a few little pieces of cake!”

“It's not what Cake is,” Hermalaya said, smiling. “It's what Cake means.”

“I know. You have triumphed over such adversity thanks to Cake. I read it in your diary. I bought a dozen copies for all my friends!”

“Well, that's just so kind,” the princess gushed. “I mean, I didn't want to share my private thoughts all over the di-​mensions? But Skeeve here told me that a lot of people would find the story moving? I kind of guess they have.”

I grinned a little sheepishly. The publication of The Princess's Diary had been a hard sell with Hermalaya, but I had pointed out she had already given copies not only to Massha's friend Bobbie Jo, but also several of the clients who had requested them as mementos after their Cake ceremonies. I suggested that she find a good publisher who would present the princess's own words in her voice, all the better to drum up support for Foxe-​Swampburg. She agreed, but only for the sake of her kingdom. It had sold thousands of copies already. Bunny was keeping track of the royalties.

“... I wish I could take lessons from you. And I think my two older daughters are interested, too.”

“Maybe later on, when things get settled out?” Herma-​laya said, grasping her hand courteously. “I just love chil-​dren, you know. I'd be happy to help you all on the path.”

“I admire you so much, princess.” “Thank you. You're just too complimentary?” “Uh, here,” Oatis said, offering me a box. “Thanks.” The good-​bye looked like it was getting protracted, so I grabbed Hermalaya's arm. “Sorry, but her highness is getting tired.” “I'm sorry, but we have to go?” Hermalaya said, taking my cue. “You are just all so kind.”

We hadn't even bamfed out of there before the herd of children started clamoring and running around. I felt sorry for Oatis's wife. But it was another two hundred and fifty gold coins for meI mean, the treasury. Oatis found Her-​malaya charming, but he didn't have any economic hold on Reynardo or Foxe-​Swampburg that was of any help. He did, however, have some friends who had.

I had met a lot of royalty during my stint as a Court Magi-​cian. One thing that I realized about them was that most of them didn't have access to their countries' wealth. That power lay in the hands of merchants, landowners, and min-​isters. I'd known a number of tightwads among them understandable, since the way to stay wealthy was not to spend the fortune they or their ancestors had spent life-​times amassing, but I had underestimated the curiosity value of royalty to those very people. Among those willing to listen to The Princess's Diary, more than a few were eager to experience the famous Cake ceremony, as con-​ducted by the exiled Hermalaya herself. Those who en-​joyed it passed on word to others.

“Who've we got next?” I asked Massha, who