MA03 Myth Directions

by Robert Asprin

  I hadn’t known it, but it seemed unwise to admit my ignorance. I’m slow, but not dumb.

  “Since there can only be one capital at any given time,” our host continued, “the two cities compete for the privilege each year. The winner is the capital and gets to be the center of government for the next year. The Trophy is the symbol of that power, and Veygus has had it for the last five years. Yesterday we finally won it back.”

  “You mean the Big Game decides who’s going to run the land?” I exclaimed, realization dawning at last. “Excuse my asking, but isn’t that a bit silly?”

  “No sillier than any other means of selecting governmental leadership,” the man countered, shrugging his bony shoulders. “It sure beats going to war. Do you think it’s a coincidence that we’ve been playing the game for five hundred years and there hasn’t been a civil war in that entire time?”

  “But if the Big Game has replaced civil war, than what ...” I began, but Tananda interrupted.

  “I hate to interrupt,” she interrupted, “but if we’re going to beat the crowds, we’d better get going. Where did you say the Trophy Building was, again?”

  “One block up and six blocks to the left,” our host supplied. “You’ll know it by the crowds. I’ll set the rest of the bottle aside and we can finish it after you’ve seen the Trophy.”

  “We’d appreciate that,” Tananda smiled, paying him for our meal.

  Apparently she had succeeded in using the right currency, for the owner accepted it without batting an eye and waved a fond farewell as we started off.

  “I was hoping to find out more about this ‘Big Game,’” I grumbled as we passed out of earshot.

  “No you weren’t,” my guide corrected.

  “I wasn’t?” I frowned.

  “No. You were getting involved,” she pointed out. “We’re here to get a birthday present, not to get embroiled in local politics.”

  “I wasn’t getting involved,” I protested. “I was just trying to get a little information.”

  Tananda sighed heavily.

  “Look, Skeeve,” she said, “take some advice from an old dimension traveler. Too much information is poison. Every dimension has its problems, and if you start learning the gruesome details, it occurs to you how simple it would be to help out. Once you see a problem and a solution, you feel almost obligated to meddle. That always leads to trouble, and we’re supposed to be avoiding trouble this trip, remember?”

  I almost pointed out the irony of her advising me to avoid trouble while en route to engineer a theft. Then it occurred to me that if the theft didn’t bother her, but local politics did, I might be wise to heed her advice. As I’ve said, I’m slow, but not dumb.

  As predicted, the Trophy Building was crowded despite the early hour. As we approached, I marveled anew at the physique of the natives—or specifically, the lack thereof.

  Tananda did not seem to share my fascination with the natives, and threaded her way nimbly through the throng, leaving me to follow behind. There was no organized line, and by the time we got through one of the numerous doors, the throng was thick enough to impede our progress. Tananda continued making her way closer to the Trophy, but I stopped just inside the door. My advantage of height gave me a clear view of the Trophy from where I was.

  If anything, it was uglier seen plainly than it had been viewed from a distance.

  “Isn’t it magnificent?” the woman standing next to me sighed.

  It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me. My disguise made me look shorter, and she was talking to my chest.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I agreed lamely.

  “Of course not,” she frowned. “It’s the last work done by the great sculptor Watgit before he went mad.”

  It occurred to me that the statue might have been done after he went mad. Then it occurred to me that it might have driven him mad—especially if he had been working from a live model. I became so lost in the horrible thought that I started nervously when Tananda reappeared at my side and touched my arm.

  “Let’s go, handsome,” she murmured. “I’ve seen enough.”

  The brevity of her inspection gave me hope.

  “There’s no hope, eh?” I sighed dramatically. “Gee, that’s tough. I had really been looking forward to testing my skills.”

  “That’s good,” she purred, taking my arm. “Because I think I see a way we can pull this caper off.”

  I wasn’t sure what a caper was, but I was certain that once I found out I wouldn’t like it. I was right.

  “ARE YOU POSITIVE there was no lock on the door?” I asked for the twenty-third time.

  “Keep it down,” Tananda hissed, laying a soft hand on my lips, though none too gently. “Do you want to wake everybody?”

  She had a point. We were crouched in an alley across from the Trophy Building, and as the whole idea of our waiting was to be sure everyone was asleep, it was counterproductive to make so much noise we kept them awake. Still, I had questions I wanted answered.

  “You’re sure?” I asked again in a whisper.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Tananda sighed. “You could have seen for yourself if you had looked.”

  “I was busy looking at the statue,” I admitted.

  “Uh-huh,” my partner snorted. “Remember what I said about getting over-involved with the target? You were supposed to be checking security, not playing art connoisseur.”

  “Well, I don’t like it,” I declared suspiciously, eager to get the conversation off my shortcomings. “It’s too easy. I can’t believe they’d leave something they prize as highly as that Trophy in an unlocked, unguarded building.”

  “There are a couple things you’ve overlooked,” Tananda chided. “First of all, that statue’s one of a kind. That means any thief who stole it would have some real problems trying to sell it again. If he even showed it to anyone here in Ta-hoe, they’d probably rip his arms off.”

  “He could hold it for ransom,” I pointed out.

  “Hey, that’s pretty good,” my guide explained softly, nudging me in the ribs. “We’ll make a thief of you yet! However, that brings us to the second thing you overlooked.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s not unguarded,” she smiled.

  “But you said ...” I began.

  “Sshh!” she cautioned. “I said there would be no guards in the building with the Trophy.”

  I closed my eyes and regained control of my nerves, particularly those influenced by blind panic.

  “Tananda,” I said gently. “Don’t you think it’s about time you shared some of the details of your master plan with me?”

  “Sure, handsome,” she responded, slipping an arm around my waist. “I didn’t think you were interested.”

  I resisted an impulse to throttle her.

  “Just tell me,” I urged. “First off, what is the security on the Trophy.”

  “Well,” she said, tapping her chin with one finger. “As I said, there are no guards in the building. There is, however, a silent alarm that will summon guards. It’s triggered by the nightingale floor.”

  “The what?” I interrupted.

  “The nightingale floor,” she repeated. “It’s a fairly common trick throughout the dimensions. The wooden floor around the Trophy is riddled with deliberately loosened boards that creak when you step on them. In this case, they not only creak, they trip an alarm.”

  “Wonderful!” I grimaced. “So we can’t set foot in the room we’re supposed to steal something out of. Anything else?”

  I was speaking sarcastically, but Tananda took me seriously.

  “Just the magikal wards around the statue itself,” she shrugged.

  “Magikal wards?” I gulped. “You mean there’s magik in this dimension?”

  “Of course there is,” Tananda
smiled. “You’re here.”

  “I didn’t set any wards,” I exclaimed.

  “That isn’t what I meant,” Tananda chided. “Look, you tapped into the magikal force lines to disguise us. That means there’s magik here for anyone trained to use it—not just us, anyone. Even if none of the locals are adept, there’s nothing stopping someone from another dimension from dropping in and using what’s here.”

  “Okay, okay,” I sighed. “I guess I wasn’t thinking. I guess the next question is, “How are we supposed to beat the funny floor and the wards.”

  “Easy,” she grinned. “The wards are sloppy. Someone set up a ‘fence’ instead of a ‘dome’ when they cast the wards. All you have to do is levitate the Trophy over the wards and float it across the floor into our waiting arms. We never even have to set foot in the room.”

  “Whoa!” I cautioned, holding up a hand. “There’s one problem with that. I can’t do it.”

  “You can’t?” she blinked. “I thought levitation was one of your strongest spells.”

  “It is,” I admitted. “But that statue’s heavy. I couldn’t levitate it from a distance. It has something to do with what Aahz calls leverage. I’d have to be close, practically standing on top of it.”

  “Okay,” she said at last. “We’ll just have to switch to Plan B.”

  “You have a Plan B?” I asked, genuinely impressed.

  “Sure,” she grinned. “I just made it up. You can fly us both across the floor and over the wards. Then we latch onto the Trophy and fly back to Klah from inside the wards.”

  “I don’t know,” I frowned.

  “Now what’s wrong?” my guide scowled.

  “Well, flying’s a form of levitation,” I explained. “I’ve never tried flying myself and someone else, and even if I can do it, we’ll be pushing down on the floor as hard as if we were walking on it. It might set the alarm off.”

  “If I understand flying,” Tananda pondered, “our weight would be more dispersed than if we were walking, but you’re right. There’s no point in taking the extra risk of flying us both across the floor.”

  She snapped her fingers suddenly.

  “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” she exclaimed, leaning forward. “You fly across to the Trophy alone while I wait by the door. Then, when you’re in place, you can use the D-Hopper to bring yourself and the Trophy back to Klah, while I blip back magikally.”

  For some reason, the thought of dividing our forces in the middle of a theft bothered me.

  “Say ... um, Tananda,” I said, “it occurs to me that even if we set off the alarm, we would be long gone by the time the guards arrived. I mean, if they haven’t had war for over five hundred years, they’re bound to be a little sloppy turning out.”

  “No,” Tananda countered firmly. “If we’ve got a way to completely avoid alerting the guards, we’ll take it. I promised Aahz to keep you out of trouble, and that means ...”

  She broke off suddenly, staring across the street.

  “What is it?” I hissed, craning my neck for a better look.

  In response, she pointed silently at the darkened Trophy Building.

  A group of a dozen cloaked figures had appeared from the shadows beside the building. They looked briefly up and down the street, then turned and disappeared into the building.

  “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any guards in the building!” I whispered frantically.

  “I don’t understand it,” Tananda murmured, more to herself than to me. “It’s not laid out for a guard force.”

  “But if there are guards, we can’t ...” I began, but Tananda silenced me with a hand on my arm.

  The group had reemerged from the building. Moving more slowly than when we had first seen them, they edged their way back into the shadows and vanished from sight.

  “That’s a relief,” Tananda declared, letting out a pent-up breath. “It’s just a pack of drunks sneaking an after hours at the Trophy.”

  “They didn’t act like drunks,” I commented doubtfully.

  “Com’on, handsome,” my guide declared, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “It’s time we got this show on the road. Follow me.”

  Needless to say, I didn’t want to go, but I was even more reluctant to be left behind. This left me no choice but to follow as she headed across the street. As I went, though, I took the precaution of fumbling out my D-Hopper. I didn’t like the feel of this, and wanted to be sure my exit route was at hand in case of trouble.

  “In you go!” Tananda ordered, holding the door open. “Be sure to sing out when you’re in position. I want to be there to see Aahz’s face when you give him the trophy.”

  “I can’t see anything,” I protested, peering into the dark building.

  “Of course not!” Tananda snapped. “It’s dark. You know where the Trophy is, though, so get going.”

  At her insistence, I reached out with my mind and pushed gently against the floor. As had happened a hundred times in practice, I lifted free and began to float toward the estimated position of the statue.

  As I went, it occurred to me I had neglected to ask Tananda how high the wards extended. I considered going back or calling to her, but decided against it. Noise would be dangerous, and time was precious. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Instead, I freed part of my mind from the task of flying and cast about in front of me, seeking the tell-tale aura of the magikal wards. There were none.

  “Tananda!” I hissed, speaking before I thought. “The wards are down!”

  “Impossible,” carne her response from the door. “You must be in the wrong spot. Check again.”

  I tried again, casting about the full extent of the room. Nothing. As I peered about, I realized my eyes were acclimating to the darkness.

  “There are no wards,” I called softly. “I’m right over the pedestal and there are no wards.”

  Something was tugging at my consciousness. Something I had seen was terribly wrong, but my attention was occupied scanning for the wards.

  “If you’re over the pedestal,” Tananda called, “then drop down and get the Trophy. And hurry! I think I hear someone coming.”

  I lowered myself to the floor, gently as I remembered the creaky boards, and turned to the pedestal. Then it burst upon me what was wrong.

  “It’s gone!” I cried.

  “What?” Tananda gasped, her silhouette appearing in the doorway.

  “The Trophy! It’s gone!” I exclaimed, running my hands over the vacant pedestal.

  “Get out, Skeeve,” Tananda called, suddenly full volume. I started for the door, but her voice stopped me.

  “No! Use the D-Hopper. Now!”

  My thumb went to the activator button on the device I had been clutching, but I hesitated.

  “What about you?” I called. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “After you’re gone,” she insisted. “Now get go ...”

  Something came flying out of the dark and struck her silhouette. She went down in a boneless heap.

  “Tananda!” I shouted, starting forward.

  Suddenly the doorway was filled with short silhouettes swarming all over Tananda’s prone form.

  I waivered for a moment in indecision.

  “There’s another one inside!” someone called.

  So much for indecision. I hit the button.

  There was the now familiar rush of darkness ... and I was back in my quarters on Klah.

  Aahz was seated at a table with his back to me, but he must have heard the BAMF of my arrival.

  “It’s about time!” he growled. “Did you enjoy your little ...”

  He broke off as he turned and his eyes took in the expression on my face.

  “Aahz,” I cried, stumbling forward. “We’re in trouble.”

  His fist came down in a crash
which splintered the table. “I knew it!” he snarled.

  “NOW LET’S see if I’ve got this straight,” Aahz grumbled, pacing the length of the room. “You got away without a scratch, but Tananda got caught. Right?”

  “I couldn’t help it!” I moaned, shaking my head. “They were all over her and you said ...”

  “I know, I know,” my mentor waved. “You did the right thing. I’m just trying to get a clear picture of the situation. You’re sure this was in Jahk? The weird dimension with the short, pale guys? Skinny or overweight?”

  “That’s right,” I confirmed. “Do you know it?”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Aahz shrugged, “but I’ve never gotten around to visiting. It’s talked around a bit on the gambling circuit.”

  “Must be because of the Big Game,” I suggested brightly.

  “What I can’t figure,” Aahz mused, ignoring my comments, “is what you two were doing there.”

  “Um ... it was sort of because of me,” I admitted in a small voice.

  “You?” Aahz blinked, halting his pacing to stare at me. “Who told you about Jahk?”

  “No one,” I clarified hastily. “It wasn’t that I asked to go to Jahk specifically. I was hungry, and Tananda said Jahk was the closest dimension where I could find something to eat.”

  “I know how that is,” my mentor grimaced. “Eating is always a problem when you’re traveling the dimensions—even the humanoid ones.”

  “It’s even rougher when you aren’t even visiting humanoid dimensions,” I agreed.

  “Is that a fact?” Aahz murmured, eyeing me suspiciously. “Which dimensions did you visit, anyway?”

  “Um ... I can’t remember all the names,” I evaded. “Tananda—um—felt there would be less chance of trouble in some of the out of the way dimensions.”

  “What did the natives look like?” Aahz pressed.

  “Aren’t we getting off the subject?” I asked desperately. “The real issue is Tananda.”

  Surprisingly, the ploy worked.

  “You’re right, kid,” Aahz sighed. “Okay. I want you to think hard. You’re sure you don’t know who jumped her or why?”