“Come on,” I gestured to my friends. Gleep came
charging through the crowd of Scammies converging on me, bowling half of them over and sending them rolling down the stairs. Tananda leaped down to help me clear a way for Zol and Bunny.
“Get us out of here, Gleep!” I yelled. I released the illu?sion masking his natural aroma. At the sudden wave of lung-constricting smell, Scammies threw themselves out of his path, cannoning into one another, shrieking in fear.
“Gleep!” my pet yodeled, turning his nose downward.
We plunged down the steps in his wake, stripping spec?tacles off Scammies as we went. To my surprise mild-mannered Zol threw himself into the liberation effort with gusto. With a wave of his hands the little gray man flipped glasses off dozens of people at a time. Tananda, too, lent her magikal abilities to the cause. Bunny just held tight to Bytina and did her best to stay with us.
The crowd behind us grew as we ran. What had gone wrong? I started to wonder if just removing the spectacles was enough to break the hypnotic trance the Pervect Ten had set on their victims. They were still shouting at us and shaking their fists long after I would have thought the im?pact would have begun to wear off.
“After them!” shouted the stout male.
“They broke my glasses!”
“They broke my children's! What will we do?”
I sprinted down the middle of the main street. Rat-horses reared and gnashed their big front teeth as I swung under their noses. Scammies operating pedal-driven vehi?cles halted and swore. People not wearing the Pervect gog?gles stopped to point and stare. We were definitely attracting too much attention.
I looked around for a place to duck into so I could oper?ate the D-hopper, but every inch of the street was filled with shouting, angry people. I glanced over my shoulder. Zol, for all that he stood a foot shorter than I, managed to stay just behind me, but Bunny was getting lost in the crowd. I'd lost sight of Tananda. She could dimension-hop
on her own with a chant and a wiggle, so I didn't have to worry about her, but my assistant was not a magician. I had to get back to her.
I saw her hand go up before it was blotted out by a mass of Scammies bearing down on me.
“Gleep!” I called. “Go get Bunny! Protect her!”
“Gleep!” my pet responded. He stopped clearing the way ahead for me, looped around in his length, which caused several of the pursuers to trip on him, and came galloping directly back toward me. I threw up my hands to halt him.
“No, Gleep!” I cried, just before we collided.
“Now, now, now, what's all this, then?”
When I opened my eyes, everything was in a haze. As my vision cleared I found myself staring at the protuberant brown eyes of a Scammie police officer whose face was only inches from my nose. He reached for my arm. I started to pull it away, then realized that the ground was preventing my elbow from moving back. I was lying down. How had that happened?
It all came back to me as the roar of furious voices rolled over my ears again. Gleep, in his zeal to take the shortest path to Bunny and carry out my instructions, had crashed into me and knocked me flat. I didn't know if the bruises I felt on my chest were his footprints, or those of some of the Scammies standing around me, one of whose foot was still planted across my neck. I had probably been knocked unconscious when I hit my head on the ground. How long ago had that happened?
I gasped for breath. The person whose boot was imped?ing my airway removed it, and the policeman hauled me to my feet. His trunklike nose twitched. I sniffed, too. I must have let the nasal illusion slip. In the melange of vanilla-orange I smelled like a pigpen by comparison. It was too
late to disguise my normal scent. Half the Scammies caught my stink and edged away from me, or pinched their big nostrils shut with their fingers. The policeman's eyes watered, but he was made of a better mettle than his coun?trymen. He kept my arm clamped in his hand, and felt my face. When his fingers met my ordinary, and very small (by comparison) nose, his brow ridges went up.
“Who are you, and what are you?” he demanded.
I tried to choke out my name, but only a squeak came out, thanks to both having the air knocked out of me and the foot in the throat. “I'm Sk Ñ” I gasped.
“All right, make way!” Another police officer came bustling up. The first one held out a palm.
“Magik dispeller,” he demanded. The second officer slapped a wand into his hand. The first officer pushed a small stud on the handle and leveled it at me. I saw the faces of the crowd change as my disguise was stripped from me.
“A Klahd,” the officer sniffed in disgust. “What do you think you're doing here?”
“My name is Skeeve,” I croaked. “I'm here to save you.”
“Crazy, too,” the second officer opined.
“No, really!” I protested. “You're all in danger.”
“Save us, eh?” the officer in charge queried. “Is that why you stood on the courthouse steps screaming like a fool? If you have evidence that Scamaroni is in some kind of peril why didn't you go to our government and make your case?”
“I...” I was starting to wonder that myself. I couldn't tell him that Zol Icty had told me to. I was beginning to think it had been a bad idea after all. But I couldn't make this officer think I was a bigger twit than he already did. I eyed him. “If you can ask a question like that, you've never tried to change anything by getting the government to help,” I pointed out.
It looked as though Officer Two agreed with me pri?vately, but Officer One was not amused. His voice was
even and calm, as though he was talking to a very small child. “So tell me why you caused a riot.”
“The glasses,” I began, feeling a little foolish. “They're part of a big plot.”
“So you said.”
“The people who made them want to take over your di?mension.”
The brow ridges went up again. “And you have proof of this?”
“You have to take me seriously,” I insisted. I gestured at the angry people around me. Tananda, Zol and Bunny were nowhere in sight. I hoped that they had jumped back to Wuh or Klah and weren't going through an interrogation like this somewhere out of sight. “Really. You'll lose con?trol of your own lives! I'm a magician, a great magician. I've seen it happen in another dimension. I don't want it to happen to you!”
“They had these glasses?”
“Well, no... but it's the same ten Perverts. They've conquered one world, and yours is next!”
“Uh-huh,” the officer said, still in the same patient voice. He exchanged a look with the other officer, who tapped his chin with a forefinger. It must be the local ges?ture for “nut case.” I started to protest.
“... And I had mountains of treasure! Gold! Jewels! Silver! But I used that cheap stuff only to scratch my back,” added the female Scammie, escorted into our little circle by a third policeman, “until that imbecile destroyed my storytelling goggles, and I got yanked out of my beau?tiful dream!”
“You see?” I stated, indicating the female. “It's cloud?ing your minds.”
“So what?” the female asked, her trunk rampant with disapproval. “I was loving it!”
“But what about your productivity?” I said, beginning to feel desperate. They didn't understand. “What about your normal lives?”
“This is much more interesting than my life,” the woman told me impatiently. “I have five children. You think I can't use a little escapism?”
“The makers of these things want to control you, maybe bleed you dry,” I insisted.
“Twenty gold pieces is steep,” the woman admitted, “but it's worth it! I've wandered in beautiful places, free as a greblich!”
“No, it won't stop there,” I warned, looking about at all the hostile faces in the circle. “They'll take over your di?mension while you're not looking.”
A male Scammie poked me in the stomach. “So what? If we're happy, how bad could that be?”
The first officer put his free hand on his hip. “Have you ever even tried these things yourself?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I know what they can do ...”
“Well, here.” He plucked the goggles off one of the by?standers. The owner's eyes flew wide in alarm, but calmed down when he saw a law officer holding them. He started to put them on my face.
“No!” I protested, throwing up my hands. “They'll en?chant me!” The cop shrugged and handed them back. The owner went to put them back on. I couldn't let him be dragged back into the spell. I raised my hands and made a twisting motion. The owner cried out in alarm.
“You'll thank me later,” I tried to say, as he went for my throat. All three police officers pulled him back. He shook his fist over their shoulders.
“You ... you vandal!” he yelled, his nose-trunk erect in outrage. “Aargh! That's the last time I help the police!”
“Look,” I said, desperately, “You don't know what they're doing to you. Today it seems like you're just enjoy?ing harmless fantasies, but before you know it you'll be their slaves. I'll reimburse everyone for their glasses Ñ wholesale cost,” I amended hastily. If I'd learned anything from Aahz, it was never pay the full price for replacement
of an item. If I had ever agreed to give anyone the retail value of an item I had broken Aahz would have rolled his eyes right around inside his head. “They're harming you. Trust me.”
The more I protested, the more faces I saw becoming thoughtful.
“Maybe he's on to something,” a narrow-faced woman mused, tilting her head. “I never considered it more than a toy... but you never know what extra spells might be tucked in there. I've heard all kinds of things happen to people. You read about it in the news all the time.”
“Hah,” a young male sneered. “He's just jealous that he doesn't have his own goggles. Can't afford to buy one for yourself, Klahd?”
“I bet he works for a rival toymaker,” an elderly female shrilled. “He doesn't like theirs, but we should buy yours, isn't that right, stinky?”
“No, it's not like that at all!”
The first policeman held up his hands. “All right, all right, calm down. We'll get to the bottom of this. We'll have the goggles inspected to make sure they don't cause any harm to any of you. In the meantime, give your names to Officer Koblinz, and we'll notify you when we've fin?ished our investigation. Move along! Move along! Clear the road!”
The Scammies, grumbling, obeyed the first policeman's commands. Officer Two, Koblinz, took a pad of paper out of his pocket. Names magikally limned themselves down the index. He nodded and put it away.
“You can better believe we're going to get to the bottom of this,” he promised.
“That's a relief,” I breathed. Very quickly traffic re?turned to normal, and the complainants departed. “Well, thanks a lot.” I spotted an alley where I could retrieve the D-hopper out of my boot in private, and started towards it.
“And where do you think you're going?” Officer One
asked, grabbing me by the back of my collar. I struggled to pry myself loose, even using a flick of power, but he had a good grip on me.
“I've got to get back to my work,” I told him. “I told you, those Pervects have a grip on another helpless dimension.”
“You're not going anywhere!”
“What? Why?”
Officer One looked at me as though I was an idiot. “You're still under arrest for destroying personal property.”
“But, gee, I said I'd pay for them,” I protested.
“Nothing doing,” he said, hauling me by my collar down the sidewalk to a waiting rat-horse cart. “Restitution will be part of the sentence. You're still being held for as?sault on sixty or eighty persons, destruction of property, causing a nuisance on the public highway with that sick rorse of yours, creating an affray ...”
“A what?” I asked.
The officer sighed, as if he had never met such a stupid being in his life. “Causing a riot, if you prefer it like that. The judge is really going to throw the book at you.”
“What's the usual penalty for causing an affray?” I asked.
“Oh, thirty or forty days. But with all the other charges added on you're likely going to spend the rest of your life in here.”
“Perhaps I could talk to the judge,” I offered, stumbling as I climbed into the cart. “Arrange a payment schedule, and apologize to the Scammies I have offended?”
“I doubt it,” Officer One said, gesturing his companion to whip up his animal. “Senior Domari was the first person you assaulted.”
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances
FOURTEEN
“Maybe I should have kept my nose out of it.”
C. DE BERGERAC
I paced from one side of my small cell to the other. It looked just like your average cell, but it smelled good for a change, like roses and new mown grass. Except for the fact that there were bars on the hand-sized window, iron bands wider than my torso on the door, and, oh, yes, walls of big rough stone in between them, I could have been walking in a delightful garden.
Officers One and Three, whom I now knew were called Gelli and Barnold, had left me the D-hopper and all of my other magikal paraphernalia, including the sample pair of glasses we had picked up in the Pervects' headquarters.
“The whole place is magik-proofed,” Officer Gelli in?formed me, at my puzzled expression when he handed me back the D-hopper. “You can use that as a backscratcher, or whatever you like, but you're staying here until your ar?raignment.”
“Do I get a lawyer?” I said.
“Sure. Who can we call to get one for you?”
But there was no answer to that. My companions had es?caped. I was thankful for that: there was no point in all five of us being locked up. Thanks to the disguise there was no way they could be identified as fellow perpetrators if they returned. When they returned. I knew my friends. They would not leave me here to rot.
The cell door had a huge, primitive key lock, the kind I had practiced opening hundreds of times back when I thought I wanted to be a thief. My fingers were small enough to reach the tumblers, but not strong enough to turn them through the keyhole. If I could only have summoned up a thread of power I could have shrunk the shaft of the D-hopper to use as a lock pick, but nothing doing.
It wasn't as though magik was scarce. Strong lines of power abounded on Scamaroni. I could see a huge blue ar?row running directly underneath the police station, but it was as untouchable as the shutterbugs behind the glass of Zol's little magik mirror. I tried a thousand times to reach that power, or the bright golden one I could see arching like a monochrome rainbow over the main street of the city, or the paler green one that crossed the blue one at some dis?tance from the jail. Some big, tough wizards had created the containment spell around this building, wizards hun?dreds of years older and far more accomplished than I was. There would have had to be sixteen of me to make any dent in it. I certainly tried.
I pictured a magikal crowbar prying out the grille over the window. Sweat poured down my face as I constructed the spell over and over again. The bars didn't even grow warm. I pictured a magikal rope tied around the door drag?ging it off its hinges. Not a creak, not a quiver. I sat down, exhausted. I was just going to have to wait until someone came and let me out.
It didn't take a genius to tell me that I had made a mess of my opportunity to free the Scammies. Zol Icty may have had the utter adoration of every self-help book reader in every dimension, and know everything that there was to
know about everyone who lived in them, but his advice was awful. I blamed myself. I had gotten caught up in his plau?sibility, and believed whatever he said without judging for myself whether what he told me to do made sense. I promised myself from then on I'd listen to whatever he had to say, then do the opposite of what he advised. If I'd done that, I could have been home by now.
I paced back and forth until my feet hurt, then I spent some time lo
oking out the window. My cell faced the street. It seemed to me that at least half the people out there had Storyteller Goggles on, wandering blindly as their keen sense of smell kept them from running into obstruc?tions, and most of the other half looked envious. But I thought that I had done some good: a few of the passersby looked disapprovingly at their fellow Scammies who were wearing the Pervect Ten's device. Maybe I'd gotten through to a few after all.
A clattering at the door announced the arrival of my dinner tray, pushed through a panel at the bottom of the door, which was firmly closed and locked as soon as the following edge of the tray was inside. A covered dish, a jug of wine and a jug of water lay on the wooden trencher, along with a candlestick, two candles, and flint and steel. By my calculations the candles would burn from sunset to midnight. I supposed I could try to set the room on fire, but there was nothing to burn except my clothes. The neces?sary was a covered metal bucket shoved underneath a wash stand consisting of a china bowl and pitcher on a stone shelf in the corner. The bed was a stone shelf, too. Not very comfortable, but then, nothing to attract insects, either. I didn't really need a blanket; the room was warm. I looked under the plate cover. The Scammies may have thought I was crazy, but they treated their prisoners well. The food looked and smelled as good as anything at the best restau?rants in the Bazaar. I ate my supper, then spent the rest of the remaining daylight clutching the bars of my small win?dow and watching the people go by. A few of them spotted
me; with my Klahdish looks I had to be about as incon?spicuous as a porcupine on a silk rug. They made faces or obscene gestures. With those flexible noses, obscene ges?tures took on new impact.
The sun woke me just before another tray was shoved un?der my door. I sprang up and pounded on the heavy wood.
“Hey!” I cried. “Let me out of here!”
I heard no other sounds for a long time, until there was the scrape of a heavy bolt moving on the other side of the door. It creaked open, and Officer Koblinz came in. He pointed at my pendant.
Myth 13 - Myth Alliances Page 11