Myth 13 - Myth Alliances by Asprin, Robert (ebook reader online free .txt) 📕

“Yes, well. I... then, one of the Wuhses who had braved the wilds of Jahk came back with stories about you and how you bested the Jahks and won their Trophy. We were so impressed! Here was the very person or persons who would free us from the yoke of oppression ... well,” he stopped, and gulped, “from a relationship that has ac?complished rather more than we assumed it would.”

“You do need help,” I began. “But I'm not the one to do it.”

“But, Master Skeeve!” Wensley wailed.

I stood up decisively, and the Wuhs jumped to his feet in reaction.

“Let me take you to a friend of mine. He's an expert on Pervects. I'll explain everything. You won't have to say a thing.”

“To Aahz?” Bunny asked, linking her arm with mine.

“ToAahz.”

Myth 13 - Myth Alliances

TWO

“I'm puttin'the band back together.” Ñj. blues

“We're off to see a wizard?” Wensley asked, as we pushed our way through the crowds of merchants and shoppers thronging the lanes through the tents of the Bazaar at Deva. Our visitor clung to my upper arm with limpet-​like de?termination. His eyes were wide as he took in the variety of dimension travelers bargaining with Deveels and other sellers of goods and services. I had to admit that I'd gotten so used to the place that seeing the reactions of a new?comer reminded me how much of a racket filled the air. Among tents ranging from a tight fit for a Gnome to a canvas-​covered space large enough to hold an Imp family reunion, red-​skinned Deveels of all sizes, ages and shapes bargained with one another at the tops of their voices, den?igrating one another's merchandise, parentage and general appearance, until they made a bargain, after which they'd be all smiles... but their voices would still be ear-​bleedingly loud as they offered one another brief compli?ments before parting. No Deveel stuck around long after

having bought or sold. There was always another sale to be made, and customers waiting. Folk of hundreds of other dimensions walked or glided or blundered through the shoulder to shoulder crowd, in search of that elusive item they had to have. If it wasn't for sale on Deva, or couldn't be obtained by legal or illegal means, then it was a rare commodity indeed.

Smells filled the air, too. Some of them, like spices, baking, and cooking food, were pleasant, but they were overbalanced by an equal number of real stenches, like the wagon we passed full of rotting vermin. I was afraid to guess whether the pathetic corpses were destined for the trash heap, or the kitchen of a local restaurant. I'd learned to eat almost anything during my thin years as a would-​be thief and apprentice, but my palate would never accommo?date such foods as Pervish cooking or Deveel snacks-​on-​a-​stick, guaranteed to give you a stomach ache you'd never forget, if you survived digestion.

A Trollop with plenty of green-​tinged cleavage showing over the top of an inadequately-​laced tunic started to give Wensley the eye, but I caught her gaze and shook my head. Recognizing me, she gave a sultry smile, tossed her moss-​green hair, and turned to the next prospect, an Imp wearing a loud suit and flashing far too many rings and neck chains for a pick-​pocket-​heavy ambience like this one.

“Not a wizard. He's my best friend,” I corrected Wensley. We were lucky to hear that Aahz was on Deva. Tananda, my friend who was, coincidentally, also a Trollop as well as a trained Assassin, was at home in our old head?quarters. Bunny assured me Aahz also made it his pied-​a-​Terre whenever he was in the dimension. Tananda had steered us toward a beer garden offering seasonal brews, some rows over from our office.

Oom-​pah-​pah music assaulted my ears as we walked into the tavern. I'd been by myself so long on Klahd that I forgot it was Weisenheimerfest on Deva. Deveels in leder-​hosen, with perky little green hats tilted on their heads be-

tween their sharp little horns and kegs on their shoulders, made their way between the broad wooden tables. Deco?rated pottery or metal mugs hung from pegs all the way around the wooden gallery. Below, people from all kinds of dimensions sat on the benches, some holding up their tankards for a refill, many taking a snooze under said benches after their long-​awaited annual overindulging (Weisenheimerfest only came once a year). Others swayed from side to side in time to the music played by a trio of musicians who sat on stools at one end of a dance floor. No one was dancing in the heat of the noonday sun, but there was some serious drinking going on.

Aahz was there, alone at the end of one table, tossing down foaming draughts from a mug as big as a bucket. I had never been so glad to see him in my life. He almost looked beautiful to me, but nobody could call big, green, batlike ears or teeth as long as your fingers beautiful. Though he stood a little shorter than I, he had the air of power and ease that any Pervect commanded. (Some, less knowledgable dimensional travelers called the denizens Perverts, but that was all a matter of deliberately bad PR those who lived in Perv spread about their homeland.) I recognized his clothes