Myth-Told Tales

"Twice now those three T's have gotten away with paying short," Charilor complained, as she and Vergetta marched down the street toward their next stop.

"Don't worry so much," Vergetta said, waving a hand. "This time did they tell us to go away? No, they found a way to pay in kind. That shows they're intimidated. They'll behave themselves."

"Good," Charilor said "I'd hate a good cleaning to go unappreciated."

"Oh, how I hate it when they grouse," Vergetta agreed, tapping the ground with her cane. "But we do look gorgeous. Admit it"

"Ex ..." a Deveel said, peering curiously as he overtook them.

Vergetta nodded her head regally. "What does 'ex' mean?" Charilor asked. "Who knows? Might be the latest slang for 'pretty hot mama.'"

Two Imp maidens carrying embroidered straw marketing bags passed them, then giggled loudly. Charilor spun, glaring. The girls hurried away. A male voice behind them spoke slowly, as if uncertain what he was saying.

"Extor ... ?"

Vergetta rounded upon a Gnome, whose eyes widened as she glared at him. He disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Extoringist," said a little voice near their feet. "Mama, what does 'extoringist' mean?"

"Hush!" a Deveel matron said, hustling her toddler away from the furious Pervects.

"Extortionist!"

"Extortionist!"

"Extortionist!" More voices took up the cry. "Where?" Vergetta demanded. "Where? Who's saying that?"

"It's right there," a Klahdish male said, grinning right in their faces. "Says so, right on the back of your heads. Yeah, both of you!"

"Why, you ... !" Charilor started for him, manicured nails out and ready to tear his face.

"That's right," a mournful voice broke over the sound of the crowd. It was the herbalist Vineezer, standing in the door of his dusty shop, his eyes glowing with unrequited revenge. "Those horrible women have been taking money away from poor old honest merchants like me for weeks, now."

Vergetta shouted at him. "You! Did you do this to us?"

He only grinned, as the crowd continued to chant. "Extortionist, extortionist, extortionist!"

"They've robbed me, too!" yelled Melicronda, as her three strapping sons flanked their mother at the door of the wine shop. "Taking bread out of our mouths!"

Gradually, ominously, the faces of the shoppers in the crowd turned from idle interest to open anger. Instead of being frightened as Charilor and Vergetta lunged at their erstwhile victims, they moved toward them, seizing whatever they could find to use as weapons.

"We'd better get out of here," Vergetta said, turning and fleeing up the street with the mob in pursuit.

"What about the plan?" Charilor wailed, as a thrown stone zinged past her ear. "We still need more money!"

Vergetta ducked a few stones as she felt in her purse for their D-hopper. "To the pits with the plan! The plan won't go anywhere if we're not alive to help! It's those damned beauticians! They marked us! Labeled us! Now everyone knows who we are!"

"Grr!" Charilor growled. "I knew that 'free makeover' was too good to be true!"

Vergetta spun the wheels on the little device and grabbed for Charilor's hand. She pushed the button as they dashed around a corner in between two shops. Her voice echoed on the air as they vanished. "As soon as the coast's clear again, I'm going to go back into that tent and tear all three of them into pieces they can stuff in their own little cosmetic bottles!"

But no one was left to confront. Within an hour, five or six heavy, multi-legged creatures, supervised by a Deveel with a clipboard, arrived and cleared out everything, including a broken cosmetic palette on the floor. Shortly, there was nothing remaining of A Tough, A Troll and A Trollop but the sign hanging by one hook over the door.

An Imp matron passing by peered forlornly into the empty tent.

"Mr. Guido?" she called.

MYTH-TER RIGHT By Robert Asprin and Jody Lynn Nye

I sauntered into the Palace of Possiltum like I owned the place, pretty much my normal way of entering a building. Massha's summons had sounded urgent, but I wasn't going to look as though I was in a hurry, in case the problem she was having was with someone here. I had been taking some time alone for myself, but I didn't like it when my friends were in trouble.

"Hey, Kaufuman," I called to one of the uniformed guards at the portcullis. "How's it hanging?"

For a moment the pink-faced guy goggled. There was only one short, green-scaled guy with handsomely pointed ears, mysterious yellow eyes, and dagger-pointed four-inch fangs in the kingdom, to my knowledge. Kaufuman recognized me immediately.