Myth-Told Tales

Plant matter went flying in every direction. The old Deveel was rendered momentarily green with powdered snakewort. A wreath of laurel hung drunkenly from one of his horns.

"I am so sorry," I said, attempting to brush him off. "Quite by accident, I assure you."

In the close confines of the tent I succeeded only in knocking him over. Guido grabbed his arm and heaved him up to a standing position.

"Why's he talking like a book?" Vineezer asked, eying me uneasily.

"Eloquence curse," Tananda said, leaning against the center tent pole with her arms crossed. "Plays merry hell with his strength. But that will be back soon. Maybe very soon, if I can't persuade you to tell me what I want to hear."

"I... I can't," Vineezer said, retreating from the fierce look in her eye. His normal red complexion paled to an almost Imp-pink. "They'll put their mark on this place— they did it once already."

The three of us looked around.

"I don't see no mark," Guido growled, his hand moving toward the inner pocket where I know he stowed his miniature crossbow.

"They did!" Vineezer protested desperately. "Look at this place! Look at that!"

We all did. "Place okay," I said, remembering to use my Big Crunch voice. "Place clean."

"That's just part of it," the merchant wailed. "A herbalist's shop isn't supposed to be clean. The dust floating in the air is full of magik. I use it to tweak potions too delicate for enhancement spells. A millionth part of dragon scale—I can't afford a balance sensitive enough to weigh that out. When this place is properly dusty I can snatch a fragment out of the air. I haven't made a decent scrying potion in a week!"

"They cleaned out your shop?" Tananda mused.

"Yes, and that's not all they'd do... if I talked. So, please go away. I can't tell you any more."

Guido muscled up to the trembling Deveel. "You don't really want me to go back to Don Bruce and tell him you was unwillin to fulfill the part of the bargain that he was so obligin' to make with you, do you? He might have to ask me to interfere wit' you personally."

Vineezer's face flushed burgundy red, and he shoved us back toward the tent flap and out into the street.

"It's better than being alphabetized" he hissed. The tent flap swished down between us and clicked locked with an audible snap. I set my shoulder, prepared to charge back inside so Tananda could ask him again, but she laid a hand on my arm.

"Never mind. Big Brother," she said. "Maybe some of the others will be more communicative."

Her assumption proved to be incorrect. If anything, our further researches were less fruitful than our first attempt. Yet we did not return to the tent empty-handed. We gleaned certain points concerning our unknown quarry.

"They're very neat," Tananda said, glancing around at our tent and appearing to compare our housekeeping unfavorably to that of our foes'.

"They are more cautious in the way they phrase their verbal contracts," Guido said, sitting down and putting his fedora on his knee. "Not one word concerning their appearance can be gleaned from our converse with our clients. It appears to be a condition of the protection racket—I mean, arrangement."

"And they aren't very greedy," I added. "With no disrespect to Don Bruce, their demands are relatively modest."

"But they go by a flat fee," Guido protested. "Don Bruce prefers a percentage. When times is good, he prospers alongside his clients. When times is hard, well, they all get a break. This way. they all give the same even if business is bad. And you saw how scared the clients were not to miss a payment"

"It strikes me that this means they're not in this for the long haul," Tananda concluded. "If they did they would take market fluctuation into account the way the Mob does."

"But who knows how long this short haul will run?" Guido asked. "Don Bruce ain't gonna wait for them to get out. He wants 'em gone now."

"Right," I said. "That will take decisive action on our part. We need to catch them in the act of collection and dissuade them from doing any further business in the Bazaar."

"Right!" Guido agreed, smacking one big fist into the other palm. "Well teach 'em they just can't march in an' take over somebody else's territory."

The easiest place to observe was Bochro's Toy Shop. His tent stood next to Melicronda's wine shop, nearly opposite the M.Y.T.H. Inc's establishment on the same thoroughfare. Since none of our associates were presently in residence, we three took the vigil in turns.