Gleep slithered down the steps into the gloom of the basement ahead of me. I heard voices yelling. I recognized those of Emo and Orlow. I sniffed the air and smelled smoke. Had they already fought the duel? I peered into the darkness. A small globe of light zipped around in irregular patterns, dipping in and out of shadow.
“Gleep!”
Gleep reappeared. He took my free hand in his jaws and pulled gently toward rows of bottle racks.
“Back there, boy?” I asked Gleep.
“Glmfh!” he exclaimed around my wrist.
I steeled myself. If there was bad news, I wanted to be prepared. I filled my mental batteries with magik. Whatever it took, I would avenge Aahz!
Gleep guided me past several dusty stands containing hundreds of wine bottles. At last, he stopped and let go of my arm.
I stepped around the rack. One lone torch burned in a sconce against the wall. Emo looked up at me a little goggle-eyed. He was seated on top of a large barrel. He hoisted a pottery cup in my direction, then drank deeply.
“To you, my friend!” he said.
“To Skeeve!” chorused three more voices. I directed my improvised torch to light the others’ faces. Wilmer, Carnelia, and Orlow had propped themselves on other barrels or crates. All of them had full glasses. Four or five bottles lay on their sides, empty.
“Where’s Aahz?” I asked.
“Aahz?” Wilmer asked. He looked very solemn. “No idea where Perverts go, you know, when they go.”
“Why do you ask, Mr. Skeeve?” Carnelia inquired. She stifled a hiccup with a delicate hand. She waved a hand, and the globe of light came to hover over us. The four Tipps looked, well, tipsy.
“He’s missing,” I said. “And because the last time I saw you, you were bent on revenge against him, you’re our best suspects.”
“No!” Carnelia protested.
“No, never did anything,” Emo muttered. “Nothing to do with us.”
“Wilmer, what about you?” I pressed.
“Not me,” he said. He harrumphed. “Confounded Pervert!”
“That’s Per-vect,” I said.
“That’s right, defend him,” Orlow said, accusingly. “Some impartial judge you’re turning out to be.”
That stung, but I had to admit it was probably true. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more evenhanded in the future. But what about Aahz?”
“What about him?” Wilmer asked, turning his chin up. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care.”
“He has to make a speech!” Shomi said.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen him?” I asked. “You sure seemed intent on taking revenge on him. Do I have to go get some truth serum and ask again?”
“How’s it taste?” Orlow asked, leering. He knocked back what was left in his cup and refilled it.
“No, I swear it!” Wilmer said. He seemed a trifle embarrassed. “I couldn’t locate him, and I soon cooled down. We have been drowning our sorrows on Aahz’s generous refreshments. I was about to pour the lady another drink. You say Aahz is missing?” He looked gleeful, but tried to hide it.
“Yes,” I said.
“You’ll forgive me, young man, if I say ‘good riddance.’” Wilmer drained his glass and reached for some more wine.
“Hear, hear,” said Carnelia, extending her cup to him. “To Aahz!”
“To Aahz?” Emo asked. He drew a deep breath.
He was about to start singing. I withdrew in haste toward the stairs, lighting the way for the others.
It was too late.
“Theyyyyyy’re off to find the lizard / The ugly green lizard named Aahz . . . !”
“They’re no help,” Bunny said.
“Then if they are not responsible for his disappearance, where is the Syndication?” Shomi asked, as we emerged in the main hall.
“I don’t know,” I said. I noticed a knot of reporters clamoring around Rodna. “But I think I know who does. You keep the party going. I’ll bring Aahz back!”
I plunged into the crowd and caught Ecstra by the arm. With Gleep’s help, I cut her out of the herd and brought her into a side room that was empty at the moment.
“Why did you take me out of there?” she asked. “Do you know who that is? Aahz’s wife is the most famous homemaking expert in all of Perv. A veritable Arthastuard!”
“How would you like to have the most exclusive story in all of Tipicanoo?” I asked.
She straightened her perky hat.
“Tell me more!” she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“I wouldn’t sign anything like that!”
—LUCIFER
We left Shomi keeping the party going. Bunny, Gleep, and I hurried Ecstra out into the night. In spite of the lateness of the hour, more guests were still arriving.
“And you say that Tolomi kidnapped you?” she said, jotting notes down as fast as her pencil could go.
“Not just him,” I said. “All of the editors. They call themselves the Syndication, a secret cabal that is in charge of all news dissemination in this entire dimension.”
“And they decided to suppress all the stories about the election,” Ecstra said. “Whew! Well, it had to be a group decision, or someone would have broken ranks. I thought we journalists were supposed to be independent!”
“Of government, not of one another, I guess,” I said.
“And you think that they have taken your friend,” Ecstra followed up, flipping a page. “It could have been anyone. Aahz has irritated a lot of people. You should hear some of the stories I’ve been told! And Wilmer Weavil-Scuttil! He was fuming tonight!”
“It wasn’t him,” Bunny said, walking as fast as she could. Gleep hung close to her side. “And it wouldn’t be because he simply offended someone. It has to be the Syndication.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s too interesting,” I said. “He’s tough and smart. He came into this race out of nowhere and it looks as if he can win. People are talking about him. He was making it too obvious that the election wasn’t making the papers. They had to remove him. He is in danger. We have to save him!”
“So, where are we going?”
I stopped. We had walked about half a block from Aahz’s townhouse. I glanced back. “I’m not sure. I tried to track him magikally from his room, but whoever took him was a better magician than I am.”
“Do you think they brought him to the same place they brought you?”
“It would make sense,” I said. “How many underground hideouts would a highly secret cabal that rules everything behind the scenes have?”
“Well, if they did rule everything, they could have as many as they want to,” Ecstra said practically.
“Well, where were we?” Bunny asked. “It was pitch-dark. We entered and left it by magik, so we don’t know anything about it.”
“Yes, we do,” I said, as a thought struck me. “Remember that sound? It was all around us, a rhythmic thumping sound.”
“Like a printing press?” Ecstra asked.
“Yes!” Bunny exclaimed. “So we must have been in the cellar below a newspaper office!”
“Oh, this is going to make such a great story—if anyone ever printed it, that is,” Ecstra said, wide-eyed. “But which newspaper? There are fifteen in the city.”
“And we may not have much time. Aahz isn’t going to go along with their demands to stop . . . being himself.” Bunny looked grim. “They might just make him disappear.”
“Only three of them did all the talking,” I said. “It has to be one of their places. But I think Tolomi was in charge. We’ll try the Morning Gossip first. We’ll try to figure out what to do if and when we find them. I can’t outmagik them, but maybe there’ll be some way to negotiate for Aahz’s safety. Do you know the way into the basement of the paper, Ecstra?”
“Can I have an exclusive on the story?” she asked. “And priority access on all upcoming electoral events?”
“Yes, anything you want!” I said impatiently
.
“Then fly us near the office. I’ll show you where to set down.”
* * *
The street in front of the office was all but deserted that close to midnight, but I could still feel the rumbling of the printing press through the soles of my feet. It was funny, but I had not noticed it during the day. Too much else was going on. Ecstra stopped us before we walked in front of the glass door. Instead, she took a key out of her hatband and opened a door in the cliff face in between the pools of light from two streetlamps. It was so unobtrusive that I had ignored it completely. The lock opened silently. Ecstra beckoned us inside.
The passage beyond was narrow and slightly damp, but the walls were cut smooth. I made a small light and sent it on before Ecstra so she could see where she was going. She hardly needed it. She led us confidently as the passage intersected with other dark corridors, passing iron-bound doors and barred enclosures. She turned left, then right, then right again. All the time we were spiraling down into the heart of the mountain. Except for our footsteps and the occasional PLINK! of moisture dripping off the invisible ceiling, there was no sound.
After we had gone a long way down, I heard the murmur of voices ahead of us. We tiptoed more softly until Ecstra stopped us at a huge wooden door. Beyond it I could hear the boom of Tolomi’s voice among others. He laughed uproariously at something. Bunny and I put our ears to the door. Then I heard a familiar voice.
Aahz!
He protested something, then let out a wordless bellow. Bunny gasped. I loaded up my internal batteries with magik and made the tiny flame in my hand grow into a raging fire. Then, when Tolomi laughed again, Aahz cried out.
“Come on, guys, you’re killing me! Give me a break!”
That was it. I had no time to go back and get help. I nodded to Gleep. The two of us took a few steps backward and lowered our shoulders.
We charged the door. It burst open. Gleep and I dashed inside.
The brilliant light filling the domed chamber pierced my dark-adapted eyes, but I spotted Aahz in a moment. I ran to his side, putting myself between him and the others. As far as I could tell, the entire Syndication was present. Fifteen Tipps stared at me. I made the flames into a curtain and fed them directly from the force line. They wouldn’t be able to cross that, not until we were long gone. Gleep sat in the middle of it and hissed at the Syndication, his tongue licking in and out between his fangs, daring any of them to take him on. The room was filled with foul-smelling smoke. No doubt they had already threatened him with fire.
“Come on, Aahz, we’ll get you out of here!” I said over my shoulder.
“Just what exactly are you doing, Skeeve?” Aahz asked.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “Have they hurt you?”
“I’m fine, except these crooks want to cheat me out of decent royalty!”
I glanced back over my shoulder. Aahz wasn’t being tortured. He wasn’t even tied up. In fact, he was lying back on a chaise longue, his feet up on a pillow with a bucket-sized glass in his hand. He winked at me. I looked from him to the Syndication, who were hoisting similar yet smaller glasses. A table in the middle held dozens of bottles of wine, a tray of sandwiches, and bowls of snacks. This didn’t look like a dungeon. It looked like a party.
I let my fire die out. Gleep whimpered in confusion and crept over to my side.
“Aahz, are you all right?” I asked.
Aahz leaned back and stretched, tapping the ash off the cigar in his hand.
“I’m fine, partner. Just finalizing a little business deal with my pals here . . . Now if you want me to autograph the special commemorative boxed edition, that’s extra. I’ll go flat fee per book or a percentage.”
Tolomi shook his head. He took his own stogie out of his mouth. “No percentage! You’re already killing us. Flat fee per copy. Standard rates, of course.”
“Of course,” Aahz said with a grin. I looked from one to the other.
“Aahz, what’s all this about? These are the people who’ve been trying to throw us off for the better part of a month! They’re the enemy!”
“Not at all, Skeeve. You never approached them with any kind of a deal that would interest them.”
“A deal? What kind of a deal?”
“A profitable one,” Aahz said, looking smug. “For both of us. I’ve just offered them full syndication and publication rights to my side of the election story. They’re going to give me full coverage so they can make special collector’s editions of the papers later on. In the meantime, I give them exclusive content. One month after the election, they get to bind the whole set and sell them.”
“Clothbound and leather,” Clea said, proudly. “And boxed sets.”
“That’s not fair,” Ecstra said. “He’s only one of the people running! What about Mr. Weavil and Mr. Weavil-Scuttil?”
“Miss Talkweather,” Tolomi said heartily. “I wondered how these Klahds found their way. Have some wine!”
“No, sir,” Ecstra said. “I’m on duty.”
“We must cover the other candidates, as well,” Romses put in. “We must be fair, or at least feign the semblance of impartiality.”
“Sure!” Aahz said expansively. He held out his glass. Clea flicked a hand, and a bottle came to upend itself over it. Ruby-red wine poured out. “What’s a story without antagonists? This could go big. We could see it on the Crystal Ethernet one day. It could make us all rich!”
“Hear, hear!” Tolomi said heartily.
“Aahz, why are you helping him?” I turned to accuse the Syndication. “You’ve been preventing this election from taking place for years!”
Tolomi shook his head at my denseness. “We have decided to let it go forward because we have now had it demonstrated that there’s substantial profit to be made out of it, son. Aahz here showed us how we can increase our circulation for the short run, and then we’ll have a product that can sell for years. And once he’s elected, it’s going to be a very interesting term of office, isn’t it, Aahz?”
“You bet,” Aahz said, glugging down the entire bottle of wine. “Hey, got another one of those?”
“Right here, my friend.” Tolomi floated a bottle to him. The cork popped in midair. The sparkling wine foamed out. Not a drop splashed on the ground.
“Aahz, what about your speech? Shomi was looking everywhere for you!”
Aahz regarded me with impatience. “What about it? It’ll wait. This is more important.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Well, you got what you wanted,” Aahz said. “Voting Day is a lock for next week. Want a drink? Bunny? How about you?”
“No, thanks,” I said. I doubted I could swallow anything.
“No, Aahz. I’m still on duty myself. I have to tell Shomi where you are.”
“She’ll see it in tomorrow’s paper,” Tolomi said. “Miss Talkweather, I admire your tenaciousness. You know, Aahz, she has tried for weeks to get me to reverse my stance, but business is business. You can have the exclusive on this article.” He looked at his fellow editors. “Agreed?”
“Oh, yes, agreed,” Clea said. “I can see her on our council one day.”
“It’s your story, Talkweather. Make it good. And”—he regarded her speculatively—“how would political editor on the Gossip sound to you? Think you can do it?”
“Yes, sir!” Ecstra saluted with her pencil to her forehead. She flipped open her notebook to a fresh page. “Sir, may I ask you some questions, for the record?”
“Go ahead,” Tolomi said, taking a drag on his cigar. “Make sure you spell all the names right.”
“First of all, when did you start controlling the timing of the election?”
Gleep, Bunny, and I left them there. I felt bemused and depressed.
“So he’s really going to leave us,” Bunny said, as we trudged out through the endless dark corridors. “I’m so sorry, Skeeve.” She squeezed my arm.
I shrugged. “He’s done a lot of things in his life. I guess it was time f
or him to find something else and move on. We don’t have to like change, but it’s a part of life.”
“It’s good you feel that way,” Bunny said. “That makes it a little easier, I suppose.”
I looked at her in surprise.
“Makes what easier?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, brightly. “At least we can stop worrying about the election.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“If a tool is appropriate to the situation, I’d use it.”
—A. LINCOLN
“Do you see?” Ecstra said, proudly, as we appeared in Tipicanoo the next morning. She pointed to the first column on page one of the Morning Gossip. The article was by Ecstra Talkweather, Political Editor. “I am so thrilled that I could toss a paper onto every doorstep on the island!”
“Congratulations on the promotion!” I said, spreading out the page so I could read it. The story covered the entire front page and continued on the following three, with links to features throughout the issue. It was sprinkled with photographs and boldfaced quotes. “How long were you there last night?”
“Hours!” Ecstra said. “I’m running on pure adrenaline. This is what I dreamed journalism would be like when I started out as a cub. And Tolomi said he was proud of me! He even gave me a new hatband. It’s an editor’s band. Black and white and red all over!” She showed us her fedora.
“Very nice,” Bunny said admiringly.
“But I want you to read my article,” she said. “I want your immediate reaction to the facts as they were revealed to this reporter last night, in an exclusive interview.”
I could see why Tolomi was pleased with her. Written in the top-down style of newspapers in most dimensions, information went from the most important to the least important, paragraph by paragraph and line by line. Her concise, crisp style didn’t play favorites. She covered every part of the situation, even revealing in detail the ongoing subterfuge that had kept the candidates from selecting an election day for five years. I was surprised at the depth of detail. The plot went far deeper than I had dreamed. I knew Deveels who would drool with envy at the Syndication’s machinations.
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