Class Dis-M.Y.T.H.ed

by Robert Asprin

  "Uh, Skeeve, can I talk to you?"

  I relaxed. "Sure, Bee. What is it?"

  "Well, sir," the figure moved closer. Bee's homely face, blue in the faint starlight, looked concerned. "I notice you've been watching me pretty closely, and I think you must be disappointed. I wonder if you think I ought to stay or not. I don't think I'm living up to your expectations."

  "I don't have any expectations," I said, surprised. Then I stopped. That wasn't quite true. "Yes, I have been watching you."

  "Permission to ask why, sir?"

  I decided to lay my cards on the table. "Massha's ring. I have been thinking you blew it up."

  "Why, sir? You said that the perpetrator apologized to you, and that the matter was settled."

  "Not exactly," I said. "All five of the other students came forward and said they had set it off. You were the only one who didn't."

  "But I didn't blow up the ring, sir," Bee said, sounding puzzled. "Why would I confess if I didn't do it?"

  I was taken aback. Why indeed? Why had the others been so quick to assume responsibility? I had to think about that. I believed Bee's protestation of innocence. I felt ashamed of myself for my assumption.

  "You're right," I said. "I wouldn't expect you to take the blame for something you didn't do. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I suspected you. No, you're doing fine. I don't want you to leave, unless you're unhappy."

  "Oh, no, sir," Bee said. "This is the best thing that ever happened to me since I was born, except for meeting Sergeant Swatter and Nunzio."

  "Everything's okay," I assured him. "You're doing fine. I'm proud of the progress you're making."

  Bee stood up straighter, if such a thing was possible. "Thank you, sir!"

  He spun on his heel and marched back into the inn.

  I stayed out for a while longer with Gleep and the stars.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  G. Garbo

  "You're pinned to the wall," Markie taunted Pologne. The Pervect clung to the wall behind her, quailing from the tiny figure at her feet. Markie advanced on her, hands curled into claws. "You have no options left. I'm coming for you, and I'm packing serious magikal heat. What are you going to do?"

  "Do I have my purse?" Pologne asked.

  Markie dropped out of her threatening pose, which, when a being stands less than three feet tall and has a head full of soft golden curls, was not threatening in any traditional sense.

  "If you normally carry your purse everywhere, then, yes, you have your purse."

  "Good," Pologne said. She reached into the capacious handbag, whipped out a shiny silver four-foot-long gun and leveled it. I pulled Bunny down to the floor. The rest of my students hit the dirt. Markie walked up to the Pervect and knocked the barrel toward the ceiling. She aimed a finger at the Pervect's nose.

  "Never, and I mean never, point that at anyone you don't plan to shoot. And never whip out a weapon like that unless you are planning to use it."

  "Oh, but I would," Pologne said. But she sounded doubtful. She caressed the barrel. Studded with blue gemstones, it looked like it was made of solid platinum. Since I never carry anything larger than a pocket knife, I had no idea what the bulges and protrusions meant. I guessed that neither did Pologne.

  Markie seemed to have the same impression. She planted her tiny hands on her hips. "Have you ever shot that thing?"

  Pologne looked horrified.

  "No, it would mess up the finish. Isn't it pretty? Daddy gave it to me as a graduation present."

  Markie sighed. "Then leave it at home. Hasn't Skeeve ever told you that hesitation just hands a weapon to your enemy?"

  "Well, he has, but we don't have any enemies!"

  Markie raised an eyebrow. "The universe is full of danger, sweet pea. What happens when you move into your first sixth-floor walkup, and a drunken jerk who lives on four staggers over to you in the laundry room?"

  "Why, I would never be in any place like that!"

  "All right," Markie said. "That's good."

  "That is?"

  "Yes. You wouldn't be in a situation like that because you have planned ahead. You would have checked out the entrances and exits, and kept your eye on the door, right?"

  "No," Pologne said. "I mean, I wouldn't live in a sixth-floor walkup because no elevator means it's a dump. Right?"

  Markie groaned. "Think of it in more general terms. You can apply those rules to any situation. You already know what you think of as an acceptable scenario. Let's dissect the state of mind which led you not to be in that apartment in the first place. You want a place to live. You assess where you need to be, what geographical points you need to be near. Add in your personal level of risk, balance that against your cash in hand, tolerance of noise and other nuisances, and so on. That will kick out a list of things you can avoid while still leaving the field open for the greatest number of viable choices, including some you might not have considered at the outset. When you leave out the undesirable factors, only your personal prejudices and preconceived notions would prevent you from seeing all the possibilities."

  "Ah," Jinetta said. "When you break down the analysis in those terms, we understand it."

  Markie whistled. "Finally! Do you see? The idea is not to leave yourself without options in any situation. Choosing an apartment is a scenario you can take at your own pace. Now, let's move up to one where you don't have as much time to make a decision. That's what I was trying to get you to do. Assess the situation with a cool head, and move quickly in response. You know the old saying, 'he who hesitates is lost'?" The students nodded. "That statement is true most of the time. It only means life and death once in a while. It can be simpler than that. If there is, say, only one item of value to be had, or one opportunity to be taken, and you have a rival for either, then allowing your rival to move first is essentially letting him or her choose the battleground. Make the first approach, and you will win. Most of the time."

  "Like when there's only one slice of pizza left," Melvine said flippantly.

  Markie looked impatient at her nephew's interruption, but she nodded. "Define a contest on your terms. I assume most of you, like Pologne, have some kind of protection, magikal or otherwise?"

  "Of course!" Tolk exclaimed.

  "Keep it as a last resort. Magik and weapons are limited options. Your brain is your most valuable and reusable commodity. Don't waste your resources or your allies. You might need them later."

  "Allies?" Freezia asked. "Skeeve is always hammering away about allies. He doesn't much say how to do it on your own."

  "That's because it's a lot harder to get by on your own," Markie said. "I work alone. I get paid top dollar for my services because I deal in a difficult field with considerable expertise, entirely as a solo act. It would be a lot easier if I had allies, but in my job they are not only hard to find, but a liability."

  "Just what IS it you do?" Jinetta asked, curiously. "Kill people?"

  "Hardly ever. Never mind what I do; I'm telling you how I think. If I'm echoing anything Skeeve says, then maybe you should listen to both of us. Otherwise, what are you wasting my time for?"

  "I hope we're not wasting your time, Miss Markie," Bee said politely. "I see a thread running through the lessons. But when I go home, I'm gonna be working by myself as a village magician. I've got to know the best choices to make, because I'm gonna have to make 'em without help."

  "Take the big picture. 'What is going to help me live to a ripe, old, healthy, stinking rich age?' Try not to tell me you're not thinking in that direction, because everyone except saints do, and saints are a very small proportion of the population, in my experience. You want the best possible outcome for the long run. Then refine it all the way down to the small picture, to that action you need to take at that moment in order to get to the big picture. Sound hard?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "It gets easier and faster to make those decisions after a while, once you've refined your
priorities. And just because you choose those priorities doesn't mean you can't change them." She glanced up at me, almost shyly. "I have."

  "But how do you practice making quick decisions?" Jinetta asked.

  Markie grinned. "I thought you would never ask."

  "Come on!" Markie cried, beckoning with both tiny hands. "Don't stand there taking turns like a lot of well-mannered movie ninjas! Jump in! There's only one of a kind! Get them before I can! Kettle! Flower pot! Face powder! Poker!"

  It was on my lips to ask what a 'movie ninja' was, when I had to duck or get beaned by the fireplace poker flying through the air toward the waiting hands of Pologne. Tolk leaped up to snag it in his teeth. Bee forestalled him by diving to the floor underneath it.

  "Dispell!" he shouted.

  The poker dropped toward his waiting hands.

  With a wicked grin, I twitched the poker away. "Ha-HA!" I chortled.

  "No fair!" Bee said, but he was grinning, too.

  "Too late!" Markie cried, having secured both the flower pot and the kettle in spite of the others' best efforts. She planted her small form in front of them. "Now, get the item when I call your name. Freezia, basket! Tolk, wood! Bee, pen! Melvine, armchair!"

  Tolk galloped to snag a piece of wood off the pile beside the huge fireplace. Bee pointed at the pen on the little table near the front door. His face ran with sweat. The quill wobbled into the air and started to crawl towards him. Freezia simply ran over and snatched it out of the air. She stuck her tongue out at the young soldier. Bee never hesitated, but ran to tug the chair down out of Melvine's hands. The Cupy guy swung in the air like a grumpy pinata.

  "You jerk, that's mine!"

  "It's yours if you can hang onto it."

  "Mine!" Markie sang out. While they were arguing, she snagged it with a thread of magik. It joined the growing pile of household goods behind her.

  Just as quickly, I reached for the kettle, sitting forgotten on the floor. It caught Markie's leg. She went flying.

  "Opportunity!" I shouted.

  Jinetta's eyes went wide. "Everybody! Now!"

  The class rushed toward the heap of possessions. Things started to leap around as a few of the apprentices employed levitation, gusts of wind and ropes of power to yank them toward one student or another. Pologne had armloads of items piled into the basket. Bee and Jinetta glared at each other over a teddy bear. I got into the fray with the rest of them. I grabbed the flower pot and tucked it under my arm while I air-lifted the armchair, a box of candy, ten books and a cushion.

  "Gonna do some reading?" Tolk grinned at me as he seized the cushion in his teeth. "Rrrrr-rr!"

  "Gimme that!"

  "No way!"

  While we engaged in a tug of war, someone relieved me of the candy and the flower pot. I let go of the cushion to fly a footstool, a retort and a stuffed beniguana to me. Freezia charged me to take the beniguana. I managed to juggle the booty in the air while keeping her at bay. Melvine got into a war of the weather with his aunt. The two of them turned into whirlwinds that careened around the room, vacuuming up items. The rest of us just tried to stay out of their way.

  The younger Cupy was by far the more aggressive. He kept trying to back his aunt into corners. Markie outmaneuvered him, the tip of her miniature tornado flicking past him just when he thought she was trapped.

  "Aarrgh!" he grunted, backing up several feet. "It's clobbering time!"

  The Cupy doll skated insouciantly around the room, sucking up a hatstand here, a pail there. She deposited them with the others then settled in front of the heap to guard it. Melvine's tornado seemed to gather itself in a coil like a snake, and drove straight past her, heading for the stash.

  "No!" Markie's voice called, from the center of the driving winds. "Don't cross the streams!"

  Too late! Melvine's contrail intersected with his aunt's. The tornadoes spiraled around one another in a braid that staggered blindly around the room. In the confusion, the face powder was knocked open, blinding all of us.

  In the white-out, or rather, pink-out that followed, I grabbed for items that hit me as they went by. Books, rolls of tapestry, a beer mug. I'd hold onto them, and just as quickly they would be whisked away.

  When the dust, or dusting powder, settled, I found myself in the corner, wiping my eyes. Melvine lay on the floor, sneezing uncontrollably. Pologne hung from the chandelier by her heels. Tolk lay upside down in the empty scuttle. Freezia and Bee seemed to be intertwined under the big table. Jinetta was nowhere to be seen.

  Scuffing noises came from the door of my study. Jinetta crawled back into the room, her couture outfit all askew.

  "I'm all right," the tallest Pervect announced, rising to pat down her clothes and dust off face powder which rose in clouds from her garments. "Ker-CHEW!" she sneezed. "Goodness, I don't know what hit me!"

  "I think it was me," Melvine groaned. He rolled to his side and stood up. "You've got hard ribs!"

  "Now," Markie called to us from the top of a heap consisting of every piece of movable property in the room, "wasn't that fun?"

  "Fun?" Freezia groaned. "Get off me, you Klahd."

  "Sorry, ma'am," Bee said. He scrambled up and offered her a hand.

  "Okay, everyone take five," Markie said. She climbed down from the pile of furniture, marched over and stuck the pen into my tunic front. "Nice job."

  "Lunch in a few minutes, if you all would like to wash up," Bunny said, coming into the main room from the kitchen. Savory smells, and a few not so savory, followed in her wake.

  "I know I would," I said cheerily. "Class dismissed!"

  "Well, that was the waste of a morning," Pologne whispered to Freezia as they headed toward the steps. "The last part was kind of fun, but useless." Pologne giggled her agreement. They glanced back at me to see if I had heard. I pretended not. I was disappointed. I hoped that Markie's seminar would make them think. By the thoughtful look on her face, Markie had heard them, too. I hurried to assure her I thought the morning was worthwhile.

  "That was really amazing," I said. "I had never broken down the whys and wherefores of making the first move— and the last move. I do a lot more on instinct than I realized. You've given me a lot to think about."

  "You were terrific, too," Markie said, whisking the remaining powder out of the upholstery and back into the round box. "I'm impressed with how much you've improved since I saw you. I like how you economize on power expenditure. That's some sophisticated manipulation of magikal force there."

  I shook my head. "It's nothing compared with what you did. You're good. You played them like fish. Your control far outstrips anything I can do. Remember, I never saw you use your magik on purpose before. All the spells you cast while you were staying with us looked like accidents caused by a little girl with the power of an insane dragon."

  "Gleep!" Gleep protested.

  "Sorry, Gleep. I didn't mean all dragons are insane." I reached over to pat him on the head. One of the pieces of firewood was still lying on the floor. I slung it across the room for him. Cheerfully, he rose and trotted over to retrieve it.

  "I know what it must have been like for all of you," Markie said ruefully. "But seriously, Skeeve, I had no idea you would progress this fast. At this rate there are no limits to what you can achieve. When you hit the big time, remember, I knew you when."

  "Thanks," I laughed. "IF I hit the big time, I'll remember all the little people who made it possible."

  "Was that a short joke?" Markie asked, narrowing one eye at me playfully.

  "Better than the nonstop mutual admiration society you two were forming," Bunny said, breaking in impatiently. She turned to Markie. "Will you stay for lunch?"

  It was a peace offering. I held my breath.

  "I'd love to," Markie replied warmly. "May I have something to drink? That was a lot of work."

  "It was exciting," Bunny replied. "Almost like one of the games I scry in my PDA."

  "You're a crystal fan?" Markie asked.

  I
knew they'd found a bond.

  "I'll get some wine," I said, and hurried down to the cellar.

  When I returned with two sloshing pitchers, it was clear that I had been the main subject of conversation.

  "Skeeve, Bunny told me all about what happened a couple weeks ago," Markie said, her tiny face serious. "I agree with her. I think the so-called 'gag' with that grenade was meant to take you out."

  "I don't agree," I said. "What good would it do anyone?"

  "A notch in someone's belt is a good enough reason. Take it from me. I know all the excuses people give for hiring me. You're temporarily out of the picture. Who wants you out permanently?"

  "No one!" I protested then hesitated. I was sure I had tied up all of my loose ends when I took my sabbatical. Bunny had assured me her uncle was only disappointed, not angry, that I had stepped away from protecting his business interests. There had been a lot of people I had tangled with in the past, but most of them understood that it was business, not personal. I'd done my best to make sure I parted with everyone else on civil if not cordial terms. I shook my head.

  "Well, maybe it isn't you who is the target, but these apprentices are all kids. What value is there in seeing one of them out of the picture? Which one of them is worth killing innocents as collateral damage? You know, if you hadn't gotten rid of that bomb and it detonated unobserved, it would have destroyed not only the inn but half the forest. Have you really checked out these students? Do you really know who they are?"

  "They were all brought to me by people I trust," I said, surprised.

  "Maybe it's your ex-partner," Melvine said, popping into the room. He sauntered over and helped himself to wine. "It wouldn't be the first time someone's ex-partner took him out, for money or just to take care of unfinished business. At least, that's what I see in the Magik Lantern pictures."

  Markie blinked out of existence and reappeared on the other side of the room beside her nephew. She slapped him soundly upside the head.

  "Hey!" he whined. She shook a finger at him.

  "You watch who you are speaking to in that disrespectful fashion. This is Skeeve, whom I trust a lot more than I trust you. He built a magikal business with contacts you just wouldn't believe. He was trusted by Don Bruce with his most precious operations, and by plenty of others who had plenty to lose."