MA11-12 Myth-ion Improbable Something Myth-Inc

by Robert Asprin

  “YOU JUST SIT right there, Guido, honey. Massha has just the thing to fix up that arm of yours... if I can just lay my hands on it.”

  “Will it hurt?” I sez, a little nervous. I have never tried magical healin’ before, and am uncertain as to what it involves.

  “A little more than amputation, but you’ll still have our arm,” she sez, distracted.

  “Are you kiddin’ me?” I sez, lookin’ toward the door.

  “Of course I’m kidding you,” she sez, laughin’. “Don’t be such a baby. Honestly. Men. Always so ready to get into a fight, and such little boys when it comes to healing up afterward. Really, you won’t feel a thing. Ah! Here we are!”

  She comes up with a tube of something from which she then proceeds to squeeze a glob of creamy goo over my wound. It glows and sparkles for a moment, then seems to soak right into the skin, leavin’ no trace behind. I’ll have to admit, she is correct. Not only does it not hurt, it feels sort of cool and soothing.

  “There we are,” she sez. “The muscle will probably be a bit sore for a while, so you might want to leave the sling on. It should be good as new by tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Massha,” I sez, flexing my arm cautiously.

  Frankly, I am amazed. Not by the healin’, though I’ll admit it was pretty impressive, but by the fact she could find it at all.

  Chumley told me that Massha has changed quarters, but he always did have a gift for understatement. Her new room is roughly the size of a small warehouse, makin’ it roughly three times the size of either of the rooms Nunzio and I have. Even with the extra acreage, however, it is crammed to the walls.

  There are bolts of cloth and drawin’s piled everywhere. Shoes and fabric samples and jewelry are scattered about in seemingly careless abandon, and there is not one but four full-sized sewin’ dummies lined up in the center of the room. Realizin’ that Massha is of the extra-extra-extra-extra-enormous size, this gives the feelin’ that I am suddenly facin’ the front line of a heavy contact-sport team after I have shrunk considerably.

  The fact that she could find a small tube of goo in the middle of this chaos is nothin’ short of miraculous.

  I also find myself revisin’ my earlier thoughts about this wedding not bein’ a big deal. Judgin’ from what Massha has goin’, this event promises to make the biggest shindig the Mob has thrown look like a Tupperware party.

  “By the way, Massha,” I sez, “I guess congratulations or best wishes or whatever are in order. The General is a lucky man.”

  I mean this sincerely. After gettin’ over the initial shock and thinkin’ it over carefully, I have concluded that Massha is a real catch... ignorin’ the possible parallels to big-game trophies. While it is true that she is large to the point of bein’ intimidatin’, especially takin’ into account her taste in clothes and jewelry which run to the extreme of loud and flashy, the fact remains that the biggest thing about her is her heart. Underneath her brash and pushy exterior, Massha is perhaps the kindest, gentlest soul it has ever been my privilege to meet. General Badaxe could do a lot worse in pickin’ a life partner.

  “Thanks, Guido,” she sez, startin’ to tear up a little. “I still have trouble believing that it’s really happening. I never thought... I mean, with the way I look...”

  She breaks off and blows her nose loudly, a sight which I will spare you the description of, bein’ both a merciful and weak-stomached individual.

  “So, how are the wedding plans coming?” I sez, tryin’ to lighten the mood. “How are the pompous and circumstantials goin’?”

  “It’s utter madness,” she sez, regainin’ her composure. “Still, things are staggering along. The Queen has been a big help.”

  “The Queen? You mean Queen Hemlock?”

  Things are suddenly adding up a bit. Massha is not only one of the M.Y.T.H. Inc. crew, she is also the Boss’s apprentice... and Queen Hemlock has designs on the Boss. Of course she’ll spare no expense in helpin’ set up this wedding.

  “That’s right. She really has been a dear. To be honest, I think she’s hoping our little ceremony will be a dress rehearsal for her own wedding.”

  “That was occurrin’ to me as well,” I sez. “What are your thoughts on that, Massha?”

  “Frankly, I have some serious doubts about the whole thing,” she sez. “I mean, marriage seems so right for Hugh and me. It’s something we both really want, so it’s going to happen whatever we have to wade through to get there. It seems to me that the only reason Skeeve is considering marrying Queen Hemlock is that he feels he has to. To me, that’s a lousy basis for a marriage.”

  Some women get a little crazy on the subject of marriage, especially when they’re in the process themselves, thinkin’ how it’s the best thing in the world for everyone. I am glad to hear that Massha is not of the ilk.

  “Sounds like good thinkin’ to me,” I sez. “Oh well. I better be movin’ along now. You’ve got lots to do, and I still haven’t checked in with Nunzio yet. Thanks again for the healin’!”

  WHILE IT HAS been good to get back and see the various members of our team, I will admit it is a particular relief when I finally get a chance to sit down alone with Nunzio. What with him bein’ my cousin, we have known each other since before Don Bruce assigned us to the Boss, and before that even before we joined the Mob in the first place. If there is anyone I can speak my mind to without first havin’ to think things through, it’s Nunzio. What’s more, because we know each other so well, we also know when to ask each other embarrassin’ questions and when to maintain a tactful silence.

  Case in point: when I first come into his room, he cocks an eyebrow at my arm in a sling and sez “Rough opposition?” to which I reply “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.” Beyond that, he has not pressed for details. That’s the way it is with us. One of us will express curiosity, and if the other does not volunteer particulars, we simply let it drop.

  I have given him a sketchy account of our mission, and he has supplied a brief update on the news and gossip in the palace.

  “So, how’s the Boss holdin’ up through all this?” I sez.

  Instead of answerin’, Nunzio rubs his chin like he always does when he’s thinkin’ hard, then shakes his head.

  “I dunno, Guido,” he sez. “To be honest with you, he’s been kinda weird.”

  Now, I know that the Boss has been under a lot of pressure what with tryin’ to get the kingdom’s finances squared away and havin’ the Queen proposin’ marriage to him, but we’ve seen him under pressure before. ‘Weird’ is not usually a word that Nunzio uses to describe the actions of a superior in the chain of command.

  “Could you give me a ‘for example’ on that, cuz?” I sez.

  “Well, you know how I’ve been workin’ with Gleep, the Boss’s dragon, to try to figure out why he’s been attacking people?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, the Boss has it in his head that Gleep is intelligent.”

  “So what?” I sez. “The Boss has always had a soft spot for the little dragon. He’s said all along that Gleep is a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for.”

  “Not smart,” Nunzio sez. “Intelligent. It’s not that he’s smart about learning tricks or recognizing people. The Boss thinks that Gleep may actually be intelligent, as in planning and scheming. He thinks that Gleep may be attacking people on purpose and trying to make it look like accidents.”

  I have to admit that is a crazy thought, though even considerin’ it as a possibility is scary. But Nunzio isn’t finished.

  “And another thing,” he sez, “the other day, the Boss asked me my opinion. Not on rough-and-tumble stuff, mind you. He wanted to know what I thought about his personal habits.”

  “He did what?” I sez, blinkin’ with surprise.

  Now, this is truly unheard of. When one is workin’ as a Mob bodyguard, one observes and adapts
to the habits of the body one is guardin’ in order to be effective. Commentin’ on those habits is not only unnecessary, it is ill-advised. Bein’ asked to comment on those habits, particularly by the body itself, is inconceivable. It would be like askin’ your armor if it thought you had smelly armpits.

  “What? You think I’d make something like this up?” Nunzio sez, a little hurt. “I’m telling you the Boss made a point of asking me if I thought he drank too much. What’s more, when I tried to hem and haw my way out of answering, he kept pushing and insisting that I give him an honest answer.”

  “Well, is he? Drinkin’ too much, I mean,” I sez.

  “I really never thought about it,” Nunzio sez. “I mean, sure he drinks. And he’s been drinking more since he and Aahz got back from Perv. But how much is too much? Know what I mean? And why should he ask me?”

  “Yeah,” I sez. “Weird.”

  We are both ponderin’ this in silence when there is a knock on the door and Aahz pokes his head into the room.

  “Good,” he sez. “I caught you both here. It’s payday, boys. Thought I’d bring yours up since I was headed this way.”

  With that, he tosses us each a small sack of gold. I say ‘small’ in that it isn’t one of the big bags like the tax collectors use. More like the size of my fist. Realizin’, however, the size of my fist, the amount of gold bein’ given us is far from paltry.

  I glance over at Nunzio, and he is as surprised as I am.

  “Ummm... Did we get a raise or something that I missed hearin’ about?” I sez, heftin’ the sack in my hand.

  “Extra pay for the whole crew for helping out the kingdom,” Aahz sez with a wink. “Bunny negotiated it.”

  “Nice,” Nunzio sez, his eyebrows still up.

  “Yeah. Well, thanks Aahz,” I sez.

  “No trouble,” he sez. “By the way, I wouldn’t want to try to tell you your business as bodyguards, but you might want to wander down to Grimble’s.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I just sent Skeeve down there to pick up his pay, and believe me, it’s more than ours put together. That’s an awful lot of gold for him to be carrying around unescorted.”

  WE ARE WAITIN’ when the Boss emerges from Grimble’s office. As Aahz predicted, the sack he is carryin’ is substantially larger than the ones given to Nunzio and me, to a point where he is usin’ two hands to carry it.

  He strides on past us without so much as a ‘Hello,’ which, to say the least, is quite unlike him.

  Nunzio and I exchange glances, then fall in behind him. Truth to tell, I do not think he is even aware we are there. He just marches along kind of mutterin’ to himself without lookin’ either left or right. Naturally, the procession we are makin’ draws a certain amount of attention, but the people who notice us take one look at the Boss’s expression and leave us alone.

  The silence lasts until we reach the door of the Boss’s room.

  Then, as he’s openin’ the door, he seems to notice us for the first time, raisin’ his eyebrows like we had just interrupted him in the middle of something.

  “You gonna want us for anything, Boss?” I sez, just to start the conversation. “You want we should wait around out here?”

  “Whatever, Guido,” he sez with a wave, not even lookin’ at us. “I’m going to be here for a while, though, if you want to get something to eat. I’ve got a lot to think over.”

  Now, even though we have gotten him safely back to his room, I find I am not wild about leavin’ him alone.

  “Oh, we already ate,” I sez. “So we’ll just...” I realize at this point that I am talkin’ to the door, which the Boss has just shut in my face. “...Set fire to the palace and roast a couple hot dogs,” I finish with a grimace.

  “See what I mean?” Nunzio sez. “This is the way it’s been around here since you left for your assignment. Sometimes he talks your ear off, and then the next time you see him, it’s like you don’t exist.”

  “He does seem a little distracted,” I sez.

  “A little distracted?” Nunzio shoots back. “If he was any more out of it, he wouldn’t know if he was wearing his clothes backward.”

  “Check me on this, cuz,” I sez, ignorin’ his attempts at humor. “Have you ever seen anyone so upset just after pickin’ up their pay?”

  “Not really, now that you mention it,” he sez, frownin’ slightly. “It was like something about getting paid upset him. You think maybe they shorted him with extra deductions?”

  “C’mon, Nunzio,” I sez. “Who’s gonna short him? The Queen is tryin’ to get him to marry him and Grimble is scared to death of him. Besides, did you see the size of that bag? He could barely carry it. That sure didn’t look like a short payday to me.”

  “Well, something has him upset,” Nunzio sez. “Maybe Grimble said something to him that hit him wrong.”

  We was still talkin’ about this when the Boss opens his door. “Guido! Nunzio!” he sez. “Come in here for a second.”

  We follow him into the room, and he sits down at his desk, the sack with his pay in it still on the desktop in front of him.

  “I’ve got a little assignment for you boys,” he sez with a smile.

  “Sure, Boss,” we say together.

  “But first, I want to check something. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve both made it clear that, in the past, you’ve had no qualms about bending the rules as situations called for it—working outside the law, as it were. Is that correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “No problem.”

  “All right. The job I have for you is to be done secretly, without anybody knowing that I’m behind it. Not even Aahz or Bunny. Understand?”

  Now, this does not sound good. I haven’t been all that happy keepin’ the real reason for my investigations from the Boss, but him includin’ me and Nunzio in secrets he is keepin’ from Aahz and the rest of the team is downright creepy.

  Still, I hide my discomfort and nod.

  “Okay. Here’s the job,” he sez, pushin’ the bag forward. “I want you to take this money and get rid of it.”

  To say the least, this is an unusual concept. I sneak a peek at Nunzio to see how he’s reactin’, only to find him lookin’ back at me.

  “I don’t quite get you, Boss,” I sez, careful-like. “What do you want us to do with it?”

  “I don’t care and I don’t want to know,” he sez. “I just want this money back in circulation within the kingdom. Spend it or give it to charity. Better still, figure some way of passing it around to those people who have been complaining that they can’t pay their taxes.”

  I am extremely confused at this. I look openly at Nunzio for help, but he just shrugs.

  “I dunno, Boss,” I sez finally. “It don’t seem right, somehow. I mean, we’re supposed to be collectin’ taxes from people... not givin’ it to them.”

  “What Guido means,” Nunzio sez, “is that our speciality is extractin’ funds from people and institutions. Givin’ it back is a little out of our line.”

  “Well then I guess it’s about time you expanded your horizons,” the Boss sez, firm-like. “Anyway, that’s the assignment. Understand?”

  There’s only one acceptable answer to that.

  “Yes, Boss,” we sez together, but not real enthusiastic.

  “And remember, not a word about this to the rest of the team.”

  “If you say so, Boss.”

  I pick up the bag with my good hand. It is impressively heavy, and I decide to give it one more try.

  “Ummm... Are you sure you want to do this, Boss?” I sez. “It don’t seem right, somehow. Most folks would have to work for a lifetime to earn this much money.”

  “That’s the point,” he sez, almost to himself.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” he sez. “I
’m sure. Now do it. Okay?”

  “Consider it done.”

  Neither of us said anything until we were back in Nunzio’s room, each of us lost in his own thoughts. Once we were there, I dropped the sack of gold onto his bed and plopped down in a chair.

  Nunzio remained standin’.

  “Okay,” he sez, breakin’ the silence. “So what do you think?”

  “I think we gotta find a couple money belts or saddle bags or somethin’ to carry that gold around,” I sez. “Haulin’ it in that bag is not only an open invitation to trouble, it’s hard on the back.”

  “That’s it?” Nunzio sez, his squeaky voice climbin’ an octave. “With everything that’s happening, all you can think about is your back?”

  “What do you want me to say?” I snaps back at him. “That the Boss has gone round the bend? That he’s so far gone in foo-foo land that he’d need a map to find his way back?”

  “Well, yeah,” Nunzio sez, taken a bit aback by my outburst. “He is, isn’t he?”

  “That’s so obvious, it goes without sayin’,” I sez, droppin’ my voice back to normal. “I mean, really. ‘Give the money away.’ No wonder he wanted us to keep it secret. If Aahz found out, he’d have a heart attack on the spot.”

  “So, what are we supposed to do?”

  “Do?” I sez. “Didn’t you hear? We’re supposed to take his pay and re-distribute it to the needy.”

  “But that’s crazy!!”

  “So what’s your point?” I sez. “How long have you worked for the Mob? You’re gonna try to tell me you’ve never had to take orders from a crazy person before?”

  “C’mon, Guido,” Nunzio sez. “It’s Skeeve we’re talking about here. Not some power-hungry Mob underboss.”

  Now this is truly an indication of how upset my cousin is. In all the years we’ve worked together, this is the first time I’ve known him to lose his professionalism to a point where he referred to our immediate superior by his proper name rather than the generic phrase ‘the Boss.’ That meant that he was so fond of Skeeve as a person that he was forgettin’ to maintain that emotional distance necessary for someone in our line of work. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one.