I brushed bunches of sagging grapes off my chair and slid into it. The silver bell was nowhere to be seen. Clearing my throat, I addressed the candidates.
“Would each one of you give a brief statement of your vision for the future of Bokromi, say ten years down the road?”
Emo held up a finger.
“Yes, Mr. Weavil? You can go first.”
“I think everybody is just tired of the politics as usual. We want to set up trade with some of the provinces that are near us, but frankly, they don’t trust us. We have to show them we will be easy to deal with. That we’re open for business!”
“That’s only half the story,” Wilmer said, leaning back and holding on to his right-hand lapel. “They want us to have strong leadership in place. It doesn’t mean a thing to have us say we’re friendly if all they find is chaos!”
“Neither of you clowns is the whole package,” Aahz said. “I am. In me, Bokromi will have a successful businessman who knows how to identify commodities as well as open markets. I’ll welcome businesses who want to set up shop here and show them the best way to appeal to the Tipp population.”
“If they don’t turn tail and run when they see you!” Wilmer said, bobbing back and forth. The Wisdom Party hooted and laughed.
“So you’re only going to trade with other Tipps?” Aahz asked. “That’ll take you further on the road to poverty.”
“No! But we will choose our trading partners based on trust.”
“The only real criterion for trade is common interest in making a profit,” Aahz said. “How you protect yourself from getting cheated is up to you. If it isn’t already too late for that.”
“Ooooh!” Aahz’s supporters loved that. They waved their pictures of him.
“Well, you are the expert on cheating,” Emo said.
I swiped banana peels off the table and found the scorepad. I should have known better. After promising that they would stay clean and straightforward, they’d gone straight to dirty and sordid.
“Another point, Mr. Weavil,” I warned him.
“Boooo!” howled the Friendship Party.
Mrs. Weavil Senior led the attack that time. She smacked me right in the chest with a well-aimed mudball.
“Stop it!” I said.
“Oh, Mom,” Emo said, mildly.
“Her aim’s deteriorating,” Wilmer said, pointing.
“No, it isn’t!”
Wilmer shook his head. “Are you joking? Last year that would have hit him in the face! Why, I remember my speech on Harbor Day when she caught me with my mouth open. That was some throwing.”
“Well, your nephew tosses a mean tomato,” Emo said.
I waved my hands. “No one is going to hit me in the face with anything!”
SMACK! SMACK!
From two directions at once, mushy handfuls slapped me on each cheek. I wiped tomato and mud out of my eyes.
“Cut it out,” I warned the candidates. “You’re encouraging them!”
“Who, us?” Aahz asked, innocently.
Everyone in the audience laughed loudly. The candidates tried to look solemn and dignified, but they couldn’t stop grinning.
“As your moderator, I expect a certain amount of respect,” I said.
I got my answer as a veritable storm of rotting produce came hurtling out of the audience at me. I repelled some of it, but I couldn’t keep it all off. Slime poured down my shirt and into my pants and boots. I started plucking missiles out of midair and tossing them back. Was there a single vegetable left anywhere else in Bokromi?
“Haw haw haw!”
Aahz was laughing. So were Emo and Wilmer.
I looked down at the mess around my feet. Reaching down into the force line that ran beneath the stage, I sucked in so much magik that it felt as if it were leaking out of my ears. I pictured gigantic brooms sweeping the bushels of spoiled fruit and vegetables until it made one horrible, unsavory blob the size of a swimming pool. I rolled up my sleeves and stretched out my fingers. The blob rose from the stage, quivering and roiling.
“Oh, no, Mr. Skeeve,” Wilmer said in alarm. “You can’t throw all that at us! That would be unethical!”
“After all,” Emo said, nervously, “you are our moderator.”
“C’mon, Skeeve, it’s just a joke,” Aahz added.
“I won’t,” I said, sounding calm, though the ire in my belly blazed like a volcano. I set the mass down on the stage. “I absolutely won’t throw a single vegetable at you.”
“Good,” Aahz said. “You—”
Instead, I took all the magik at my disposal, picked up all three candidates from behind their lecterns, and dropped them into the soup.
SPLAT!
I dusted my hands together and sat down.
The audience was shocked silent for a moment, then broke into wild applause or jeers, depending on who was a supporter of whom. The reporters, Ecstra included, made copious notes. The Shutterbugs flew around our heads, snapping their wings, capturing the moment. I didn’t know how the rainbow-colored carnage would look in a newspaper, but I knew I was going to find out.
Aahz, Emo, and Wilmer stumbled to their feet. Fur, scales, and clothes were completely covered with thick goo. I could smell rot on them where I sat. I was a little ashamed of myself, lowering myself to their level, but I had gotten all my anger out of my system. I was at peace.
“Shall we finish this?” I asked, pleasantly.
“Oh, my goodness!”
Bunny was back. I stood up, brushing at the sludge on my tunic. The others did their best to make themselves a little more presentable. She stepped up on the dais, picking her way gingerly between the burst vegetables. I hoisted up another bucket of magik and cleaned off her chair. It occurred to me that maybe I should do the same to myself. She gawked at the mess.
“What happened?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.
“Well . . .” I began.
“It’s not really his fault, Miss Bunny,” Wilmer said.
“We all got just a little playful,” Emo added.
“It’s nothing,” Aahz said.
“Just Skeeve,” Bunny said, firmly. “Well?”
I hemmed and hawed a little, but I had to come clean, in every sense of the word. Bunny listened, her huge blue eyes on my face. I noticed her cheeks beginning to twitch. Then her lips. Then her nose.
“And that was all you could think to do.”
“Gee, I suppose so,” I said, with a shrug.
Bunny gasped in her breath and let out a loud snort. She began laughing uproariously, not at all the measured and contained Bunny I had come to know. She pounded on the desk, slid out of her chair onto the floor, and kept laughing underneath it. The hollow sound echoed down the field. She waved a hand at me. I reached down to help her up.
“So you’re not mad?” I asked.
Bunny’s eyes twinkled. “Mad! I’m surprised it took you so long! They probably couldn’t believe it, either.”
“Truthfully, ma’am, there was nothing else he could do,” Wilmer said, with a courtly bow.
Emo nodded. “I think we can safely say Mr. Skeeve proved that he has hidden depths that it is not wise to plumb very often.”
“I was pretty impressed,” Aahz said. “You have to applaud that kind of creative mayhem.”
“Okay,” Bunny said, taking a deep breath. “In that case, shall we get the rest of this over with? On the subject of education . . . ?”
* * *
“. . . And that’s my plan to reorganize the local councils. The guilds and special-interest groups get a seat on the panel, but everybody will have a voice.” Aahz cracked a section of dried sludge off one ear and ate it. His voice was as strong as ever, but half the audience had started to sway and nod off during the final half hour of his exposition. “I hope that answers your question.”
Emo nodded, trying not to yawn openly. Aahz had bested him, in both length and argument. He couldn’t outtalk him. I had never met the living creat
ure who could. I was impressed. He had really thought about the topic and researched it to the smallest detail. He would make a great governor. And I would miss him.
Orlow cleared his throat. “May we have a moment?”
Bunny sighed. “Just one moment,” she said. Our hopes of having the debate over in an hour and a half were long shattered. As long as the weather and the candidates held out, we had no choice but to let them continue. With Voting Day imminent, they were making use of every moment before their supporters.
Shomitamoni floated a half keg of beer to Aahz and cleaned him off while he drank it. Orlow and Carnelia had called their clients into a mutual huddle. I wondered what they were up to. I tried to listen in, but Carnelia had blocked out eavesdroppers. With reporters present, I couldn’t blame them for wanting secrecy as they talked strategy.
With gleeful looks on their faces, they broke apart. The campaign managers retired to their seats. Carnelia gave Wilmer a thumbs-up.
“Mr. Aahz,” Wilmer said, leaning back from his lectern and holding one of his filth-encrusted lapels, “you’re making a lot of promises to people. You’ll forgive me if they sound a little . . . outrageous in their scope?”
“What’s wrong with thinking big?” Aahz asked.
“Will you keep those promises after you are elected?”
Aahz smiled at them, his four-inch teeth gleaming. “I’m a politician running for office. Of course you can believe me—as much as you believe any other candidate.”
“But you, sir, are not any other candidate. In fact, you’re a Pervert, sir, are you not?”
“We of the dimension of Perv prefer the term Pervect,” Aahz said. He lowered his brows.
Wilmer grasped one of his food-spattered lapels and rocked back on his heels. “Well, we here on Tipicanoo like to call it like we see it, and what I see is a Per-vert. A squat, ugly Pervert. We have heard plenty of stories about people of your dimension. I figure this many stories get out, at least some of them have a chance of being true.”
“Possibly. Possibly they’re urban legends,” Aahz said. His eyes were beginning to glow. I knew from long experience that meant trouble. He clenched his claws on his lectern. I knew Wilmer could see it. So could Emo.
“And maybe they’re not. After all, if more people believe something than disbelieve it, it’s probably true, isn’t it?”
“For a long time everyone believed that thunder was caused by gods bowling,” Aahz said. “That’s only true in two dimensions I know, hardly a majority.”
“What about the Perverts in Perv? What do they believe?”
I sat up straighter. So did Bunny. Gleep snaked his head up, his eyes wide and wary. We all expected Aahz to explode. I had never seen him swallow that particular insult. Normally he would have bellowed like a wounded dragon. I was impressed. He must really want to win the election. His eyes were bright yellow with ocher veins almost bursting off the surface of the orbs. He blinked twice and smiled gently at the audience, who were waiting with burning anticipation for his reaction.
When he spoke, his voice was calm and measured.
“You see, ladies and gentlemen, why I am the only viable candidate for this office? Because the opposition, who have wasted your time for five long years, can’t resist making ethnic jokes at my expense.” He looked at the audience, and his face turned tragic. “They’re picking on me because of my origin. Now, I’m the last person who would play the race card, but if I did, wouldn’t you say that I was justified?”
“You poor man!” a woman’s voice cried from the audience.
Emo and Wilmer gasped. I was just as astonished. They’d been had. Aahz smiled. The audience’s mood had turned against the local candidates. The reporters crowed with glee.
“Now, that’s going too far!” Bunny said, recovering her wits. “Mr. Weavil and Mr. Weavil-Scuttil, that’s a point against each of you. The rules say you can comment upon an opponent’s behavior, but no personal remarks are allowed. Especially not icky nastiness like that! I’m surprised at you!”
I looked at them severely. I remembered why I had disliked both of them on sight a month ago.
“I wouldn’t call that wise or friendly,” I said. “If you really want to make points, you’re going to have to start thinking differently.”
“Yes, sir,” Wilmer said, with a little bow. “I am very sorry. Please allow me to offer my apologies to you, Mr. Aahz.”
“Me, too,” Emo said.
“Don’t let it happen again!” Bunny added.
“No, ma’am!” they chorused.
They both looked thoughtful. I hoped I had gotten through to them.
Aahz looked so pleased with himself that he went easy on them through the last few questions. He was also mercifully brief in his closing remarks.
“. . . And all I ask is that when you go to the polls tomorrow, you vote for the candidate that you know in your heart has the will and talent to take Bokromi forward into a glorious destiny! Thank you.”
Emo and Wilmer made their final speeches, but I could tell that the heart had gone out of them. They had been counting on Aahz overreacting and showing his true colors to the crowd, but it had backfired on them.
They retired from their lecterns to the bosom of their campaign committees. Carnelia ministered to both of them with tea and sandwiches. Shomi buzzed around Aahz like a bee, humming with delight. The result was a foregone conclusion. They all knew it.
At last, Bunny looked up from her tally sheet.
“It is my pleasure to name the winner of this debate. The winner is . . . Aahz.”
Aahz raised his joined hands over his head in a victory pose.
“Thank you! I look forward to being your next governor!”
“That’s all, folks,” Bunny said. “We’re done here.”
“Hold on!” Orlow said. He walked up, his hand in the air. “My client has an announcement to make.”
“Both of our clients do,” Carnelia corrected him, coming up beside him.
“That’s right,” Orlow agreed.
Wilmer stepped forward, his coat restored to shimmering whiteness. He held out a hand to Emo, who came forward and took it.
“Friends, after a great deal of discussion and thought, the Wisdom and Friendship Parties—”
“Friendship and Wisdom,” Emo put in.
“—have decided to join forces. It would seem that we do indeed lack the talents that the other possesses. Therefore, we are becoming one party, in defense against a common enemy—I mean, honorable opponent.”
“What?” Shomi shouted. “You can’t change parties the night before the election!”
“Sure they can,” Aahz said.
“Really?” Bunny asked. “You don’t mind?”
“No problem,” Aahz said. “I expected something like that.” He grinned at the audience, who were hanging on his every word. “It won’t make any difference, will it?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“The trouble with a win-win situation is that the other guy wins, too.”
—W. GATES
For the rest of the day, Wilmer and Emo were the talk of the town. They went everywhere together, deferring to one another like a newly engaged couple. They were so chummy that it made me feel a little sick. Bunny and I fled back to our office and closed the door. Unfortunately, not before one intrepid reporter slipped inside.
“What do you think of this development, Skeeve?” Ecstra asked, brandishing her notebook at me.
“Off the record?” I asked wearily. I had poured my one drink for the day. I felt I deserved it.
She looked at me, surprised, but put her pencil away. “Sure.”
“I don’t think it’ll help. The polls in every paper show both of them so far behind that even their combined votes are fewer than half of Aahz’s.”
“That’s what I thought. We’ve got the front page for the day after tomorrow ready to go—two of them.” She straightened her jaunty hat. “Well, I’ve got to go get quotes fr
om someone who will speak on the record. See you on Voting Day! I’m going to be taking exit polls!”
* * *
Security was tight around the voting booths arranged in long rows in the town square. A line of voters led down the street and looped back and forth on itself five times. I had dozens of volunteers working in pairs to guide voters in and give them ballots, then show them out the other side, where Bunny and I were waiting with dozens of newspaper reporters. Guido and Nunzio patrolled the perimeter to make sure there was no electioneering within fifty paces. Shomitamoni had had her minions out before dawn planting Vote for Aahz signs in the grass around the gazebo. I had to brave her screaming protest to get them pulled up again. Orlow had sent Pixies flying overhead with Friendship and Wisdom banners and pretended innocence when I complained. Bunny sent Gleep to stop Carnelia from sidling up to voters waiting their turn and chatting with them. The Tipp female kept up her protests all the way out of the square.
“I swear I am not trying to make anyone do anything against their will!”
“Gleep!” my dragon said, pushing her with his head any time she hesitated.
“One more day,” I muttered to myself, and I’d never have to listen to her or any of the other campaign managers again. I busied myself with my clipboard and tried not to hear their voices receding in the distance.
“How’s it goin’, boss?” Guido asked, coming up beside me.
“Not at all what I expected,” I said. I heard a clink in the enforcer’s pocket. I gave him a curious look. With a glance around to make sure no one saw, he pulled the flap of his neatly pressed suit jacket aside to show me a bandolier of quarrels for his miniature crossbow. “Guido, I doubt you’re going to need any of that!”
“Can’t be too careful, boss,” Guido said. “So, what’s the beef?”
“No beef,” I said. “Excuse me, ma’am?” I stopped a Tipp matron in a flowered dress as she left the cordoned enclosure. “May I ask whom you voted for?”
She smiled at me. “I voted for Wilmer Weavil-Scuttil.”
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