Myth-Gotten Gains

"Oh, that. Well, then, good friend, she hails from that most fascinating of places, where dimorphism is of an extreme, in inverse character to many species for whom the female is the larger of the two in order to better conceive and carry offspring, a comparison that is something apposite in this case since the females are readily fond of mating..."

"What is she?" I bellowed, my voice ringing in the quiet street.

"A Trollop," Ersatz said. "A most limber one, like many of her species. A denizen of Trollia.. .why do you break into a smile? Is that good news?"

"Did I ever tell you," I said, unable to keep the glee off my face, "that I don't believe in coincidences?"

Chapter 3

IT TOOK A while to search out the local hostelries that served demons, but with a few threats and a couple of small coins to help spur memories, I got the names and locations of ones where a Trollop might hang out, if she had just finished a successful job and hadn't left Ori yet.

'Demon' doesn't mean 'terrifying monster from hell' as it does to races in backwater places where advanced magik and science are unknown—all right, it doesn't ALWAYS mean that. It's simply a shorthand way of saying 'dimensional traveler,' like myself and countless others who have the means of hopping in between locales at will. That's not to say that when we land in some places we're not considered to be terrifying monsters from hell. Some of the uncomplimentary descriptions I've heard of my kind have been enough at times to make me lose my temper, and anyone you ask will tell you that doesn't happen too often. That is, if they know what's good for them.

The inns where we tend to congregate have a few things in common, such as a magikal link to the Bank of Zoorik, off-dimension newspapers, a host of mercenaries and other be-ings-for-hire, and a hot grapevine where gossip, rumors and job offers are mixed up with the local news. They're not always friendly or comfortable places.

The first demon bar I visited had all the charm of the waiting room in the Bucharest airport. No one was there but a couple of loudly-dressed Imps hanging over a table in the corner drinking up the proceeds from the day's sale of snake oil to the locals. The second had just been raided by the Perrt Constabulary to haul away a drunken Ogre and the angry Salamander he'd ticked off. There wasn't anything left to sit on. All the furniture was smashed or burned, and the Orion proprietor was curled into a furry fetal ball in the corner behind the ruined counter.

We struck lucky, as I could have guessed, in hostelry number three. Even though the lights were pretty low I could see that the place was crowded. Hardly an Orion was in sight except for the bartender and the barmaids who swished their abundantly furry tails playfully around the patrons. Conversations, furtive or fueled by alcohol, were going on in every part of the big room. I walked in with Ersatz displayed in plain sight on my hip, golden hilt and gems glinting. I nodded to a couple of Deveels playing Dragon Poker, and cleared my throat.

"Yo, bartender," I called. "A table for me and my sword."

The elderly tabby Orion polishing bowls and glasses glanced around, then nodded toward a rickety two-top in the corner near the stairs. Every eye in the room followed me as I sauntered over and plopped myself down in a chair. Within moments, I felt a saucy tickle at the fringe of my right ear.

"Surprise," a voice breathed. "Is that a hand-and-a-half in that scabbard, or are you just glad to see me?"

A pair of lips planted themselves firmly on mine. When I could breathe again, I gasped out, "Tananda."

My old associate and even older friend backed away and smiled at me. "In the flesh, tiger."

"This is she," Ersatz said, "down to garments she was wearing when she sailed down the cord in Ella's study."

"How nice of you to notice," Tananda purred.

I let my eyes wander up and down Tananda's body. You can't say that female denizens of Trollia don't know the meaning of the word 'modesty,' but you might decide after having met a few that they have no use for it. Her attire was not only suitable for slipping in and out of small window casements, but for displaying those charms for which Trollops were so justly famous. Her tunic dove low at the top and reached high at the bottom, leaving just enough cloth in place over delectable flesh so as not to leave a trail of stunned males behind her as she walked down the street. Her skin was green, as were her tumbled locks of hair. It all made a very nice package.

"Fancy meeting you here," I said. "Have a seat, babe."

"I thought that was you I saw in the fortune-teller's," Tananda said. The lithe oozing movement that settled her into the chair opposite mine caused a dozen males in the bar to let out a breathy sigh. I gave them a glare, and they hastily went back to their drinks. "There aren't a lot of Pervects on Ori, and none I've seen with your dress sense. What are you doing here?"