Myth Alliances

Now that I'd said it out loud it did sound like a suicide mission, and it would be one, without the aid of someone who really understood the way Pervects thought. I'd already tried to get in touch with Pookie, a female Pervect who'd worked with us before, but she was off on a mission with another one-time associate named Spider and couldn't be reached. Most likely she'd give us the same advice Aahz had: give up and let the Pervect Ten leave when they felt like it. The Wuhses certainly weren't worse off than when they'd arrived, but I agreed with Wensley that it was better to stand on your own. Pareley deserved to be freed from their yoke.

I felt in my belt pouch for the D-hopper, but to tell the truth I wasn't ready to go back to Klah yet. I didn't have an idea how to proceed. Wensley looked at me with those big sad eyes of his. I just couldn't let him down.

Bunny hadn't said a word. She probably agreed with Aahz. That made me all the more resolute to figure out a way to solve Wensley's problem. That would show everyone that I didn't need a dozen shoulders to lean on, that I could take care of a sticky situation on my own. "As long as we're here, we may as well get some lunch," I decided, drawing inspiration from the dusty, aromatic air. "It would be nice to have a change from home cooking."

Bunny smiled. "How about kebabs at Ali Ke-Bob's?"

I crooked my elbow so she could put a hand through it. "Sounds delicious. How about you, Wensley?"

"Well," our guest began, very tentatively, though I could see the avid gleam in his eye. "If it's not too much trouble..."

"I'm next!"

"No, I'm next!"

As we came around the corner into the next street, a crowd all but filled the avenue. Men and women from every dimension I had seen were trying to get into a tent where I knew manuscripts and books were sold. A sign next to the door said "Autographing Today!" One after another, each person emerged from the throng triumphantly clutching a gaudy hardcover book. I peered at the title as a stout Troll went by with his book open in his huge hand. He studied something on the title page, and a tear rolled down his hairy cheek. I had to jump out of the way because he wasn't looking where he was going.

"Imps Are From Imper, Deveels Are From Deva," I read from the cover. "Well, that's obvious. Imps are from Imper. And Deveels are from Deva."

"Zol Icty!" Bunny cooed suddenly.

"What?"

"That's the author! He writes self-help books. They're, wonderful! I have all of them. Just wait here a moment, Skeeve. If he's here today I have to have a copy signed by him."

"Sure," I agreed. Bunny dived into the crowd pushing in at the door. I pulled Wensley out of the way of the excited shoppers to a safe vantage point across the street. As more people came around the comer and saw the sign, they shoved eagerly into the throng, blocking those who were coming out from inside. Yet, strangely, no one seemed to be angry or impatient. Usually if there was a desirable item for sale, teeth, claws and handbags were the weapons of choice to make sure one got one's hands on it. I felt the air for lines of force, but no perceptible magik was in use in the tent. Something else had to be going on to keep everyone in such good spirits.

About an hour passed before Bunny emerged. She had a starry look in her huge, blue eyes. The prized book she held clasped to her chest, which was heaving with sighs of joy.

"Oh, he is so wonderful!" Bunny squealed, breathing deeply. "Look, Skeeve! See what he wrote in my copy: 'To Bunny. I can tell just by looking at you that you are sensitive and generous. Keep making the best of your splendid attributes so the whole world will benefit. All my dearest wishes, Zol Icty.' I'll treasure it forever!"

In the face of her obvious delight I didn't make the gagging sound that the fulsome dedication evoked from me. "That's really nice," I offered. I know my voice sounded a little lame, but Bunny didn't seem to notice.

Wensley turned the book over to reveal a portrait of the author, a little gray man with huge eyes, a thin mouth, a small turned-up nose, delicate little ears, and fine, wavy black hair. I recognized him as a denizen of Kobol, a dimension that had produced notable mathematicians and a technical profession that Aahz called "come pewter programmers." Kobolds were known to be very complex thinkers, far ahead of their time. I thought they looked like embryos, except for their coloration. Bunny kept talking about meeting him, the words tumbling out like water going over rapids.

"... And he's studied the people in hundreds of dimensions. He knows all about every one of them, Gnomes, Imps..."

"Pervects?" I said, a thought suddenly striking me. "Yes, of course," Bunny said, halting in mid-flow. "I'm sure he mentioned them. Why?"

"We need an expert," I said. "Maybe we can talk to him."

"That's a wonderful idea!" Bunny beamed at me. "I'll see if we can take him to lunch!"