“And that was our idea?” Vergetta snarled. “Forget it. If I ever get my hands on that Trollop, I'll paint her wagon, just before I fix it for good.”
“We did,” Charilor smirked. “We smacked her and her two henchmen around fairly thoroughly. We paid in ad?vance, if you look at it one way.”
“Well, I don't!”
“Please!” Nedira shouted over the others' voices.
“I believe,” Monishone spoke up for the first time from her work station close to the window, “I may have the solu?tion.”
The others turned to her. Of the group she was easily the
best magician, though Vergetta believed she hated all tech?nology, unnatural for a Pervect. “So what you got, baby?”
The slender, delicately built female came forward. Her blue silk robes clashed horribly with her green scales, but it was the traditional color for ceremonial magik. She pulled back her wide sleeve so the others could see the small de?vice balanced on her palm. “This.”
“Glasses?” Niki asked. “So you're leaving the Luddite contingent at last?” Where Monishone was the technophobe, Niki was the technophile. If something broke down Vergetta didn't bother to try and fix it herself; she always called Niki.
“Don't be stupid,” Monishone stared at her haughtily. “They're storytelling goggles.”
“Come again?” Niki demanded. “What's the difference between those and virtual-reality headsets?”
“Because they're magikal, wirehead,” the smaller Per?vect spat. “They work, unlike the crap you play with.”
“All right, all right, no more fighting,” Vergetta soothed them. “We just fixed the wall again last week.” She swooped down and snatched the spectacles out of Monishone's hand. “How do they work?”
“Just put them on.”
The elder female hooked the ear-pieces over her large ears and settled the frame on the bridge of her nose. “So what am I supposed to see?”
“Do you see the little books in the corner? Pick one and flick a tiny bit of power at it.”
“And ... ?” Vergetta pressed. Monishone waited, a little smile on her lips. “Aaaaagggghhh!”
Niki leaped forward, and plucked the spectacles off Vergetta's face. “What's wrong?”
The elder Pervect grabbed them back. “Give me those! It's wonderful!” She put them back on.
“What's wonderful?” Tenobia asked, taking them away and propping them on her own nose. “Wha Ñwow!”
“Let me see,” Oshleen insisted, hooking the eyeglasses
with one long claw. She stiff-armed the shorter female with one arm while she put them on. “Fantastic! I could al?most pluck those jewels off the walls!”
“Inconsiderate bitches,” Charilor snarled, twisting Oshleen's arm up behind her back. With her free hand she felt around the other's face until she got the spectacles.
“Ow! You hit me in the nose!”
“Let me see!” Nedira demanded, pushing the others out of the way until she reached Charilor.
“Enough!” Vergetta bellowed. The stone room shook until the hanging lamps danced. Eight of the Ten stopped squabbling and turned to look at her. Monishone stood with her arms crossed, wearing a smug expression. “Give me those! Now!” She put out an imperious hand to Char?ilor. Very reluctantly, Charilor peeled the goggles off and put them on Vergetta's palm. “You all sit down, and you wait until I am finished with these, and then everyone may have a turn! Just because I'm the oldest doesn't mean I can't kick your behinds from here to tomorrow!”
Shamefacedly the rest of the Ten settled down into their favorite seats to watch her. The only sound was that of Caitlin's fingers clicking on the keys of her computer. Ver?getta nodded and resumed the goggles.
Inside the glasses it was dark except for the tiny glow?ing bookshelf in the upper left edge of her field of view. It didn't take a master magician to manipulate the individual books. The merest touch of power caused each one in turn to open and display its title page to her. A pink one was en?titled The Rose in the Tower, a blue one Dragonfest, and a black tome It Came From Klahd... “Horror, too?”
“Anything you like,” Monishone confirmed.
Dragonfest looked good. Vergetta went back to it and opened it again. With the merest touch of magik she turned the first page.
Suddenly she was not seeing the tiny book, but a land?scape that surrounded her completely. In the distance were three active volcanoes spewing smoke into the gray sky.
Her feet shifted on the uneven ground. She looked down, and realized she was standing on a mountain of gold coins and jewels. She started to bend to pick up a handful of treasure.
“Hiyyaaaa!” a voice screamed behind her. The jewels scattered. She turned around to see a little being clad in shining silver armor waving a sword at her. He stood no higher than her knee. He plunged forward, waving the brand. It flashed down and hit her in the knee.
“Ow!” she roared. A jet of flame shot out of her mouth, narrowly missing the knight. “Hey! I'm the dragon! This is great!” She stopped to examine her hands. They were long, slender blue paws with gleaming red nails. “This clashes, baby.”
Abruptly, a narrow band of rainbow light appeared next to her right hand. “That one,” she decided, pointing at a stripe of burnt orange. “Always go for the complementary color.” Before she'd finished speaking the nails had turned orange. “Very nice. Now, for you, you little pesgunyik!”
But the knight didn't wait around for her to revarnish her fingernails. He hauled his tin behind down the hill as fast as his fingerlong legs would carry him. It took no trou?ble at all, even walking dragon fashion on all fours, to catch up with him. Vergetta grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, rolled back on her long, scaly tail, and started slapping his face from one side to the other. “You don't pick on a lady like that! Didn't your mama tell you any?thing? Behave yourself!”
She had the knight blubbering like a baby in no time. When he had apologized no fewer than fifty times she let him drop to the ground. He picked himself up and started running. With a puff of breath she gave him a hot seat to remember her by. He vanished over the crest of the hill. She bent down at last to count the treasure in the hill.
When she took off the goggles her eyes were wet with tears.
“That vas beautiful, darling,” she told Monishone. “Brilliant! You're a genius! It's a Pervect fantasy.”
All eight of the others pushed forward, grabbing for the glasses. “Me next!” “No, me!” “Me!”
“Everyone gets a turn, in order of age. Caitlin?”
The little girl jumped down from her chair and ran up to Vergetta, her hands up. The older female held the specta?cles just out of reach. She pointed an admonitory forefinger.
“What do you say?”
“Gimme, you old trout!”
Vergetta beamed and patted the child on the head. “Isn't she darling?”
The rest of the group watched Caitlin's face as it twisted and contorted. Her mouth occasionally gaped open to re?veal gaps where a few baby teeth had fallen out and the adult fangs had not yet grown in. Of the Ten the next in age had almost twenty years on Caitlin, but they couldn't do without her. Something about computer technology only yielded its innermost secrets to the very young. She had a gift for data analysis that rivaled Oshleen's less-technical approach. The wisdom to make use of it would come with time. In the meanwhile, her total lack of fear let her wholeheartedly enjoy every experience. Under the gog?gles' spell she yowled and grunted and crowed, then let out a loud shout.
“Awesome!”
She whipped off the glasses with a look of triumph, and handed them to Charilor.
One by one the Pervect Ten took their turns wearing the Storyteller Goggles. Vergetta watched their faces. Every one of them that had tried them had a gleeful look on her face. When at last Nedira took them off and handed them back to Monishone, they were all wearing the same expression.
“Well, ladies?” Vergetta asked.
“I
t's amazing,” affirmed Tenobia.
“It'd be a gold mine,” insisted Paldine. “How many of them can I get, and how quickly?”
“How much do they cost to produce?” Oshleen wanted to know.
“I want to try them again!” announced Charilor.
“No!” Vergetta chided. “Not now! All right. All in favor of producing and distributing Monishone's invention, say 'aye.'”
“Aye!” The call was unanimous.
“Any opposed?”
Silence. Vergetta swept her eyes across nine eager green faces. She clapped her hands together. “All right, then! Chop, chop! I want a business plan laid out by ten o'clock tomorrow morning. This is our big chance to blow this meshugina burg and go home!”
The Pervect Ten burst into loud applause and cheers.
Outside, the Wuhses of the democratic kingdom of Pareley shivered and held one another. The terrifying females in the castle were asserting themselves again. And did they have to do it so loudly?
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances
FIVE
“Sometimes you have to help people whether they want you to, or not.”
J. STALIN
The transference from the Bazaar to Wuh was shocking in the extreme. From heat, noise, and dust we emerged to vir?tual silence, wan grass and a pale blue sky. Behind us on the cobblestoned avenue stood a curved row of small but very neatly kept houses, each with virtually identical shops in the front and gardens behind. At one end was a wide, grassy park with trees. At the other, an open green where animals grazed around the statue of a crowned Wuhs with both his hands stretched out, palm up. The local equivalent of pigeons roosted all over it, or pecked on the ground for forage. Gleep's blue eyes opened wide at the sight of the hairy-feathered birds. I knew he wanted to go chase them, but I held tightly to his leash. I'd brought him along with us over Tananda's objections, but I wanted all the potential muscle I could get. Since the day I'd accidentally attached him he had protected me, once saving my life, though the effort nearly cost him his own. Even Pervects thought twice before tangling with a dragon. He was still a baby,
but he could breathe fire, a little. And he was very strong and nimble. Besides, no one else knew that Gleep and I shared a secret: he could talk. That made him invaluable as an additional gatherer of information. Gleep was disguised as a local pet, a curly-haired goatdog. The disguise didn't change his shape, though. I could feel his tail occasionally slap against my leg as he contemplated breaking loose to go chase birds. Tananda had managed to talk me out of bringing Buttercup. Even I agreed that there was little use for a war unicorn when we were facing Perverts. They'd either consider him a pet, or lunch.
Wensley gestured shyly at the tall building of tea-colored stone on the hilltop above us. From the high, coni?cal towers plain beige pennants waved.
“Well, there it is,” he announced with shy pride. “Our castle.”
“It's not a castle,” I pointed out. “Castles have fortifica?tions.”
“Oh, we couldn't do that,” Wensley jabbered, looking shocked. “That would be unfriendly. We still call it a castle anyhow. It's a matter of pride.”
Behind him, Tananda rolled her eyes. Well, at least we didn't have to worry about creeping through a shield wall or having to trick our way under a portcullis. Pareley Cas?tle didn't have either. Nor did it have arrow slits in the walls. Every window was wide and bright, letting in plenty of light through clear, polished glass. I didn't see a single bar on any of them. A few of the sashes were thrown wide, and a gentle breeze caused the frilly curtains to dance. I squinted, but I couldn't see any movement. Were any of the Pervert Ten up there looking down on us? I'd been careful to pull a disguise over us, concealing my lanky height, Zol's dainty frame, Bunny's shining red pixie cut and Tananda's green hair. If anyone did happen to look out of the window, they'd see a quintet of Wuhses milling around like sheep.
The denizens of Pareley really did look like a flock of
sheep. I noticed one of them, a large-bosomed female, lean out of the window of a house above a greengrocer's shop, then pull her head back in. I thought no more of it, as Wensley pointed out the memorial.
“That honors our retired king, Stelton the Agreeable. As you can see, he stretches out his hands to all in a gesture of equality. Things just haven't been the same since he left.” Wensley sighed. “Not that I would ever want to criticize Prince Coulommier. He had to make the choice that was best for him.”
Over his shoulder I noticed a group of his countrymen walking towards us with purpose, and huge smiles fixed on their faces. “Oh, look,” Bunny pointed. “A welcoming committee.”
The resemblance of Wuhses to sheep was very strong as their slitted eyes were fixed upon Wensley, or more specif?ically, upon the D-hopper in his hand.
Wensley blanched. “Oh! Come with me, please,” he brayed, his voice down to a strangled squawk. “I have so much more to show you.” Without looking back he started walking. We followed, but found ourselves having to in?crease our pace from an amble to a trot. Without breaking into a run, Wensley managed to open his stride until I was running to keep up with him. “Over here you see the baker's. Very fine breads, Cashel makes. Very fine! And there's the vintner's. And the healer's. Very useful after you've been at the vintner's.”
“Wensley!” one of the big females in the lead hailed him. We could understand her easily because of the trans?lator pendants we were all wearing. They assisted in help?ing us to comprehend nuance and emotional content as well, though I had no difficulty telling the state of the fe?male coming toward us. She had a broad smile on her face, but even at a backwards glance I could tell it looked forced. “How nice to see you! Come and chat for a while. I'd just love to catch up with you.”
“And so would I!” insisted a slenderer wench, edging
around the matron and pumping her elbows so she picked up just a hint of speed. “I've been thinking about you! I've wondered how you are!”
“We've all been thinking about you!” called a male with gray curls.
Looking panicked, our guide pulled us hastily around a corner to the left, then dodged right, so we were heading into the thick of the city along a much narrower street. The balconies almost touched overhead, letting in only a slit of sky. Unfortunately, another group of Wuhses had also taken this less-traveled road, probably with the notion of heading Wensley off, to speak to him about his “well-being.”
“You've been such a stranger, Wensley,” a big male ex?claimed heartily, his arms wide open. There was no getting past him.
“Yii,” Wensley bleated, in shock, then turned us around.
The first group had not been fooled for long by our de?tour. There they were, still power-walking towards us as quickly as they could. They saw the other group, and in?creased their speed to get to us first. We were trapped in be?tween. I braced myself, as all the Wuhses descended on us, smiling and slapping our backs, all of them clamoring that they had no other reason for seeing our guide except to pass the time of day with him.
“And who are your friends, Wensley?” asked a young male about my age. “They're from out of town, eh?” He reached around to shake hands with me. As soon as I re?laxed my grip, his hand dropped, seemingly of its own ac?cord, onto the D-hopper in Wensley's. “Say, isn't that the community travel wand? I've wanted to get a good look at it for ages!”
“So would I!” a dark-fleeced female announced. “My goodness, let me see it. Please!” The D-hopper became the object of a three-way tug of war, with the youth on one side, the black sheep on the other, and Wensley holding onto the device in the center with both hands.
“Please be careful,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “I might lose my grip on it, and who knows what would happen?”
It didn't take a genius to figure out just what would hap?pen: the winner of the contest of wills would take the D-hopper and pop off to another dimension.
“Well, just let me see it a moment,” the fema
le insisted, holding on with determination.
“I... did you meet my guests?” Wensley sibberred, desperately. “I brought them here with the wand. I will have to take them back again this evening. Yes! This eve?ning! Possibly earlier. So, you see, I can't let go of it for now. I'm devastated not to be able to oblige you ... ungh!” he grunted. With one tremendous effort he pried the D-hopper out of their grasp and clutched it to his chest with both hands. “... But perhaps later? Just a little.”
The crowd looked as though they wanted to glare, but they glanced at one another out of the corner of their odd-pupiled eyes, and decided to paste on the big smiles instead.
“Of course we understand,” the big, hearty male trum?peted. “So these are your guests? Welcome, welcome! You must have a tour of our beautiful city, and then dine with us. We must help Wensley shoulder the onus of hospitality. Believe me,” he added, bowing to the women, “it is our great pleasure. Ladies, I am Gubbeen, committeefriend of the Committee of Public Safety.”
“Committeefriend?” I asked, glancing at Wensley.
“It means, 'spokesperson among equals,'” our guide explained. “Gubbeen is taking his turn on behalf of the Safety organization that has done such an excellent job at making sure there are always handrails on stairs, and that bridges are safe and not slippery. You know.”
I nodded. They did not even have the guts to risk of?fending the rest of the committee members by calling him the chairman. It had to have been the easiest thing ever for the Pervects to take over their government. Anyone who
asserted himself on Wuh was as good as king. It must have been thousands of years since there had been a predatory species anywhere in this dimension.
“So, may we be so bold as to ask what brings you to beautiful Pareley?” Gubbeen asked, after gathering a suffi?cient number of approving looks from his fellows.
“We're here,” I announced as positively as I could, as I dropped our disguise spell, “to help you. I am Skeeve the Magnificent.”
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances Page 4