Robert Asprin's Myth-Quoted

by Jody Lynn Nye

  OOM-PA-PAA! OOM-PA-PAA!

  Aahz’s ears pricked upward. “What could that be?” he asked, pitching his voice to the darkest corners of the inn. “I’d better go take a look.”

  He rose from the bar stool and shoved his way through the crowd. I wormed my way between people to follow. I was just in time to look over his shoulder as he threw open the door.

  TA-DAAAAA!

  Brass horns blared right in our faces. Drums boomed, making my chest echo. I blinked to clear my eyes.

  Filling the narrow street was a parade. Not a small parade, a huge one. At its head was a Whelf drum major in tan livery and striped with gold frogging, wearing a tall white hat on his handsome head and holding a huge baton up to the sky. Behind him, Deveel women wearing very short yellow skirts threw somersaults and cartwheels.

  “Aahz! Aahz! Aahz!” they chanted.

  Filling the rest of the street was at least one marching band, possibly two or three. Teams of Acrobats from Acrobe in skimpy gold tights flew overhead, tumbling over one another in the sky, their scalloped black wings intersecting at dangerous angles. They flew together in a mass, then spread out to spell Aahz for Governor! The same message was repeated on signs and banners held by uniformed Tipps in lines that reached out of sight. Working Tipps had poured out of shops, banks, and buildings to see what was going on. They lined the sidewalk, poking one another and pointing. Aahz waved to them.

  The drum major swung his baton, and the bands struck up a discordant fanfare. I recognized the Pervish national anthem.

  “All this, for me?” Aahz asked, a hand held modestly to his chest. The reporters surged forward to see. Their pencils whisked across their notepads, leaving behind excited trails of black print.

  The drum major blew a whistle. The bands parted to allow a carriage to emerge. Not only had the beasts’ harness been adorned with shining gold, which Aahz seemed to have chosen as his campaign color, but their hides had been dyed the same hue. On each side of the carriage was a golden banner that read Vote for Aahz! The Tipp driver waved him forward.

  “Come on, Skeeve,” Aahz said, grabbing my arm. “Ride with me.”

  “Aahz, what is all this?”

  He grinned. “Bread and circuses, Skeeve. I’ve told you. Give ’em bread and circuses, and they won’t be able to resist. Come on!”

  I glanced at the reporters.

  “I don’t think so, Aahz. I have to maintain neutrality.”

  “Suit yourself,” Aahz said. He swung up to stand in the rear of the carriage and waved to the crowd. The marchers waved back, cheering. A little more uncertainly, the crowd joined in.

  The drum major blew a whistle, and the parade moved forward. I watched the wagon carrying Aahz disappear down the street. Tipps surged behind him, waving and yelling.

  I went back to our small office through strangely empty streets. I could hear the music from the parade receding in the distance. When Aahz did something, he did it thoroughly.

  “Papah! Sah, come and get yer papah!” A peaky-faced Tipp lad in a flat cap brandished the Morning Gossip at me. “Papah, mistah?”

  I caught a glimpse of the word Perv—in the headline, and fished in my belt pouch for a copper piece. The boy grinned at me as he handed over a copy. I spread out the front page and groaned.

  Dangerous Pervert on the Loose! Beside it in a black frame was Aahz holding up his hand to block the Shutterbug from taking his picture. The article didn’t name him, but the details made it clear who it meant. The Syndication was wasting no time in debasing Aahz’s credibility as a candidate.

  It wasn’t that I wanted Aahz to win this election. If he stayed here to govern and quit M.Y.T.H., Inc., I would miss him. But this wasn’t the first time he had talked about retirement or moving on to other careers. Pervects lived a long time. Our partnership was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It had taken my losing perspective and gaining it back to appreciate that. I didn’t want it to end, but I couldn’t hold Aahz back if this was something he really wanted to try.

  I made up my mind that I would do everything I could to ensure it was a fair election. If Aahz really wanted to be governor of a Tipp island, then I would see he was elected. After all he had done for me it was the least I could do.

  I stuffed the newspaper into my belt pouch and marched back to the office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Three’s a crowd.”

  —S. SOMERS

  “Nothing, I say, nothing in this agreement allows you to introduce a third candidate into this election!” Orlow fumed, smacking the copy of our contract that lay on the desk in front of Bunny.

  He and Carnelia loomed over her. Bunny sat bolt upright with her hands folded in front of her on the tabletop. In the corner, Bunny’s cousin Sylvia sat in a chair with her arms folded, kicking one foot impatiently. When Sylvia saw me, her face brightened and she got up to undulate toward me.

  “No!” Bunny made a curt, shushing gesture with one hand. Sylvia sat back down and looked sulky. “I’m sorry, Orlow. What were you saying?”

  “He’s a brute and a bully!”

  “Only on occasion. What’s the specific complaint?”

  “It’s humiliating! Have you heard the things that Aahz says about Wilmer?” Carnelia said. She sniffed back tears, and one of her rodents handed her a handkerchief. “Thank you, dear. I cannot believe that he kisses his mother with that mouth!”

  “I know Aahz’s mother,” I said. “The Duchess actually said worse things.” And, if I knew Aahz, he was holding back.

  “His mother’s a duchess?” Orlow asked, impressed.

  “Uh, no, that’s just what she’s called.”

  Bunny’s nose was pink, which meant she was on the edge of angry tears. This tirade must have been going on for a while. I was sorry I hadn’t been there to help her.

  “There is nothing in the contract that says I can prevent another candidate from joining the race! Your laws allow anyone with the right qualifications to stand for office. The fact that your two clients have gone uncontested for so long doesn’t allow them to change that! If the winner wants to introduce legislation after the election, that’s fine! In the meantime, what do you want me to do about it?”

  “I would have thought that was obvious,” Orlow said. “Send him back to Deva.”

  “He doesn’t work for me. He’s my partner. I’m only the administrative head of M.Y.T.H., Inc. I can’t affect what he does on his own time, and I can’t fire him. Next problem?”

  “He doesn’t belong here!”

  “We’ve already swum that moat,” Bunny said flatly. “He qualifies. He can run if he wants. He does want to. Next problem?”

  “Well,” Carnelia said, “we sent his campaign manager a copy of our upcoming events, and that Shomi sent it back in pieces! She is ignoring what we’ve already scheduled. She made up her own list!”

  “Have you tried discussing coordinating events with her?”

  “That little puffball said she is not interested.”

  “And what do you want me to do about it?”

  “Talk to her!” Orlow pleaded. “We don’t want to end up splitting the crowd. We’ve cooperated fully with one another before this. Please, Miss Bunny. If, uh, if I haven’t said lately how much we appreciate your calming influence over these last weeks, please allow me to rectify the situation.” He gave her his most charming smile.

  Bunny returned a wan scowl. “All right,” she said. “I’ll talk to Shomi and see if we can’t work out a schedule that works for everyone.”

  “Then there’s no more to be said at the moment except thank you for trying,” Carnelia said.

  “You’re welcome,” Bunny said. “And if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do, and so do you.”

  “Of course,” Orlow said. He turned to Carnelia and made a little bow.

  “Miss Vole, would you care to share a carriage back to your headquarters?”

  Carnelia looked surprised but pleased. “Thank you,
Mr. Suposi, I’d appreciate it.”

  Orlow put out an elbow and Carnelia took it. A few of her rodents even ventured out onto his sleeve. I watched them go.

  “There’s nothing like a common foe to push enemies into alliances,” Bunny said.

  “Like the Bogile Family joining up with us to clear out the Von Podrasts three years ago?” Sylvia asked.

  My ears perked up, but no story was forthcoming.

  Bunny stood up and took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll have any more influence over Aahz’s campaign manager than they did, but I promised I’d try. Coming, Skeeve?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “You always get what you pay for.”

  —R. BLAGOJEVICH

  “Form an orderly line!” Shomi bellowed. Small as she was, she didn’t need the Echoes to make herself heard. “Donors to the right, volunteers to the left!” Dressed in a bright yellow robe that was actually kind of becoming on her light-gray fur, she pointed arriving Tipps into the correct file.

  Supporters of the Plague Party lined up five and six deep all the way around the park. The donors crowded toward a line of volunteers holding enormous hats. Pass the Hat! was emblazoned on posters and banners plastered on every vertical surface. As each person reached the front of the line, they threw coins into the hats. Bright-eyed young people in yellow blazers thanked them profusely and handed them yellow straw hats with Aahz’s name and picture embossed on them. Children got balloons shaped like Aahz’s head. Infants received soft, green rubber toys in the same shape that made a rude noise when the babies chewed on them.

  The candidate himself made a point of greeting his new army of supporters. Aahz walked among the crowd, shaking hands, waving, and talking to anyone who even looked at him for too long. He had a smile plastered on his face from ear to ear. In his wake, a campaign worker slapped a round of sticky paper on each supporter’s chest. In spite of the reputation (largely earned) that Pervects had throughout the dimensions, people seemed genuinely thrilled to meet him. A dozen reporters circled him as closely as flies around a garbage heap. I kept my distance. I was officially in charge of this fund-raiser. Bunny had begged off for the day. After we had talked with Shomi, Bunny told me she had to return to Klah for a talk with Don Bruce. I hoped there was no problem. I promised her I could handle the event by myself. She and Sylvia had left before dinner.

  Everything seemed to be going just fine this morning. I felt excitement in the air that had not been there before, at least not since I had become involved in the election. To my amazement, the people of Tipicanoo looked on the possibility of having Aahz as their governor as a good thing. It showed me how desperate they were for something different. It would be a big change for Aahz, too. I never thought of him as being an official officeholder before. Sure, I considered him a mentor and teacher, but he normally hated having to deal with ordinary people. He preferred to be an outside consultant, highly paid and not often bothered by his clients. I was dismayed how little I really knew about the way he thought.

  Not every Tipp was glad at the change in the lineup. Emo Weavil arrived on the scene surrounded by a dozen campaign workers and supporters. He took one horrified look at the crowd Aahz had amassed and went into a huddle. A young male Tipp broke away and went running out of the square. Shortly, he arrived back with hundreds of Emo supporters behind him, most of them carrying suspiciously drippy packages. I groaned. I had hoped everyone had gotten over the mudslinging.

  In contrast, Wilmer’s people turned up in force. He must have gotten advance information, because Tipps in purple nearly outnumbered the yellow-ribboned army assembling around the gazebo. A large brass band marched in their wake, blaring away. Overhead, young Tipps with baskets in their arms flew from terrace to terrace, giving little purple favors to the onlookers in the upper streets. I knew it was all improvised, but not a bad effort for short notice. Aahz had shaken them up. I felt it was a good thing for the election.

  Shomitamoni had absolutely refused to cooperate with the planned activities of their opponents. The others had no choice but to do things on Aahz’s schedule. The debate that ought to have taken place that morning was pushed back to the afternoon three days from now. The lightning round of the baby-kissing contest would be the next afternoon. The Meet the Candidate’s Family session would follow that evening. I had the new list in my belt pouch.

  As the ten o’clock hour approached, the green and purple parties pushed their way up into the gazebo. Arguments broke out between the three groups. Shomi had taken up most of the space with easels holding posters of Aahz, a flagpole, and several small tables. After a heated exchange, Wilmer’s and Emo’s people marched down to me.

  “Skeeve, we need your help,” Carnelia said. “That little puffball won’t let us up there!”

  I had to grin, though at the same time it was my job to make certain everything was handled as fairly as possible. I squeezed in past the jingling hats.

  “You have to move some of this stuff, Shomi,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked. “We were here first.”

  “Because this is a shared event.”

  Shomi crossed her arms. She glared at the Tipps behind me. “Not as far as I am concerned. This was set up for Aahz. If they care to participate, they get what is left.”

  “We’re paying you to make this a fair election!” Orlow said.

  “You don’t have to remind me,” I said, holding up a hand. I didn’t want to referee a three-way argument. “Shomi, you get a third of this space.”

  The little female snorted at me. “Even though Aahz has more voters than both of them?”

  “He can have the whole thing after the election,” I said, “if he wins. Clear the way, please.”

  Shomi unfolded her arms and crossed them the other way. “Make me.”

  Orlow started to roll up his sleeves. “Why, I sure will!”

  Alarmed, I put myself between them.

  “Gee, Orlow, don’t do it!”

  I shouldn’t have been afraid that Orlow would hit a creature smaller than he was. Instead, his ire was aimed at the trappings of the Plague Party. He scooped up a handful of magik from the line of force running underneath the main street and flung it hard. The posters collapsed together in a clatter, followed by the tables.

  “You rude man!” Shomi screeched from under my arm.

  She whipped an arm in a circle, and every green-suited Tipp on the podium went flying backward. I gawked. She packed a lot of magikal muscle.

  “Why, how dare you do that to all those nice Friendship Party people!” Carnelia said. She crossed both hands in front of her. A powerful wind hit Shomi in the face, forcing her eyes closed and parting her fur in the middle all the way down her body. Shomi was forced back one step. She let out an angry grunt, and the wind died away. She turned toward Carnelia, eyes blazing. Her hands wove a busy pattern. I could feel her drawing heavily on the force lines. I imagined myself as a locked door, preventing her from getting any more magik. She thrust my efforts aside without trouble. A whirlwind danced out of her hands straight for Carnelia. It grew from a dust devil to a cyclone, sucking in chairs, posters, and an unwary campaign worker or two as it marched. Carnelia’s rodents went flying off her shoulders.

  “Hold on, dear lady!” Orlow bellowed. He rushed in to grasp Carnelia’s hand. Together, they threw all their strength against the tornado. It towered over their heads, screaming, but they held it back. I think they were as surprised as any of the onlookers. Fighting the powerful wind, they moved to either side of it. With strained faces, they squeezed forward, compressing the twister until it shrank from a huge gray-black cone to a silver strand. Then it vanished, leaving a couple of confused Tipps with windblown pelts sitting on the ground. Carnelia and Orlow gave each other a brief, triumphant smile, then turned to face Shomi.

  “All right, you made me,” she said, and turned to shriek at her workers. “Clear off the gazebo!” The yellow-coated brigade hopped at her words and picked up all
the fallen furniture. A Tipp with a broom followed them and carefully swept two-thirds of the round stage clean.

  “Why didn’t you just do that before?” Orlow asked.

  “I had no reason to,” Shomi said. She eyed them. “I heard you two had it too soft before. Where I come from, you wouldn’t survive an election. I’ll show you what real politics is all about!”

  “Well! If you are any example, I don’t want to learn what real politics is about,” Carnelia said. Her rodents, shaken and disheveled, tottered out of the crowd and climbed up her body to her neck. Trembling, they reassembled themselves into a stole. Carnelia petted them. With a ladylike snort in Shomi’s direction, she stalked up the painted white steps to Wilmer. Orlow gave Shomi one more severe look and marched to Emo’s side.

  The clock struck ten. The mayor, hat firmly in place, walked out to greet the crowd.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome! I know you will all dig deep into your pockets to show your support for your candidates for governor! And remember, it’s just one more week until Voting Day! So let me introduce the three fine folks we have running for the office! First, in the green corner, weighing in at about sixty kilos of love and kindness, the candidate for the Friendship Party, Emo Weavil!”

  Emo came out and fluttered his eyelashes fetchingly at the crowd. Cheers rose from the audience, and green confetti rained down on everyone. Glitter filled the air. I spat out scraps of paper. Emo shook hands with the mayor and raised an arm to wave. Almost on cue, dozens of mudballs came hurtling through the air toward him. Emo cringed, throwing up his hands to protect his face.

  He had nothing to fear. I was ready. With a healthy scoop of power from the force line I erected a magikal shield. The missiles smacked against it and slid down. Worms, snails, and chunks of grass and weeds exploded in every direction but toward the intended target. Emo straightened up and brushed an invisible speck of dust off his still spotless green-and-white-striped suit.