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

“Well, of course not. sir,” Matfany said. “That wouldn't make any sense.”

“We'd be trapped there?”

“I'd say so.”

“Will converting the Old Folks to your government stop those people out there from protesting against you?” I asked.

“Well, possibly . ..” Matfany said.

I interrupted him. “Then the only thing we can do to stop all the chaos is to talk to the Old Folks. We have to convince them that we're doing the right thing for the kingdom.”

“I don't think that's a good idea, Mister Aahz,” Matfany said. “They're a little tetchy.”

“So am I!” I roared. “They can't keep blocking you out of the showpiece of your castle. They have got to stop in-​terfering with myyour ability to make money for the country. And I have no interest in being torn apart by an angry mob.”

CRASH!

The castle doors slammed inward.

“Down with Matfany!” the crowd bellowed.

“We gotta move,” Guido said.

“End of discussion,” I said. “Where can we go?”

“Out the back way,” Matfany said. “If you're so fixed on speaking to the Old Folks, that's the best suggestion I can make.”

The guards formed a line across the hallway, spears pointing toward the advancing mob. Matfany led us around a corner. He pulled open a humble-​looking door and ush-​ered us into a narrow, damp-​smelling spiral stairwell. Guido jammed the door closed behind us. There were no lights, but Tananda took care of that with a little spell she probably used for burglary (one of her many sidelines). The pale golden glow

surrounded us as we wound down-​ward into the servants' quarters.

The white-​clad staff in the kitchen jumped in surprise as their prime minister went tearing through with a Per-​vert, a Trollop, and a huge, crossbow-​bearing Klahd at his heels.

“Flying inspection,” he told them as he passed. “You all are doing very well. Mmm, that smells delicious,” he added to a gray-​haired old male stirring a pot.

“Thanks, Prime Minister,” they chorused. “Forget the soap,” I snarled. “We need to get. out of here.”

“Courtesy is never misplaced, Mister Aahz,” Matfany told me reproachfully. “Down here, now. We'll go out through the gardens.”

We hurried out through the rear door of the kitchens, out past a stinking heap of garbage, through the herb gar-​den and out into a wide green expanse lined with grace-​fully swaying trees. I hurtled down the broad stone steps heading for the gate at the rear of the extensive grounds and immediately sank up to my ankles

“What is this?” I bellowed. The green lawn swirled around my calves.

“Why, it's swamp, sir,” Matfany said. “We are Swamp Foxes. This is our heritage.”

“You can't run in this... muck! You can't even walk!”

“If you want to run, you need to stick to the hum-​mocks.”

“Why do the kings and queens live like this?” I asked, outraged. “You could fill all that in and have great, rolling meadows! This isn't a garden, it's a compost heap. You've got nice dry streets in town!”

“Dry land is for tourists, sir,” Matfany said. He trotted ahead of me as lightly as a feather. Grumbling, I picked myself up and followed in his footsteps. Contrary to what I thought when I first sloshed out into the yard, there were solid lumps in it. His stride was a lot longer than mine was, so I missed my footing more than once. My dapper clothes were soaked and striped with green goo by the time we got to the rear of the property. Guido didn't say anything, but I could see by the look on his face what he thought of having his beautiful, pin-​striped suit redecorated by Swamps “R” Us. Tananda, the only one of us with magikal talent, tripped lightly over the meadow like a soap bubble. I wished I could go back in time and shoot Garkin again for taking away my powers.

The sun was going down. Thanks to Tananda's light spell, we were able to see where we were going. I almost wished we couldn't. Matfany led us under low-​hanging tree branches and over ridges of stone, but all of the land underfoot was wet, wet, wet. Stinging insects took advan-​tage of the fact I had to pay more attention to my footing than swatting them to wriggle under my scales. Guido and Tananda, whose soft skins were more vulnerable than mine, scratched and slapped at their own insect hordes.

“How much more of the World of Mildew do we have to cover before we get there?” I asked, heaving each leg labo-​riously out of stinking humus. I slapped at a cloud of gnats that was gnawing on my neck.

Matfany negotiated a foot-​wide bridge over a gurgling stream. “Their domain is deep in the marshlands.”

“So, when you die you don't go to the gates of heaven, you go to the fens?” I grinned, hoping someone would get the pun.

Matfany regarded me solemnly. “To our ancestors, this is our bit of heaven.”

The next branch he let go of hit me in the face. Some people just don't appreciate good humor.

“Aahz, we're bein' followed,” Guido muttered in my ear.

“Who's back there?” I asked. I didn't ask how he knew.

Guido had survival training from a number of special or-​ganizations including the Mob. and well-​honed instincts.

“Can't say yet.” He touched his breast pocket. “I saw a shadow as we went over the last hill. Somethin' low-​slung with lots of legs. Kinda looks familiar, but I can't place it yet. I'll tell Tananda we oughta be ready to rumble.”

Once Guido mentioned it. I started to feel eyes on the back of my neck. In the