Mything Persons

compensate them for their time in helping us. Then it's

not a favor, it's a business deal. Face it, we really need

MYTH-ING PERSONS 85

their help in this. The odds of us finding this Vic char-

acter on our own are pretty slim."

Aahz would have fainted dead away if he had heard

me admitting how much we needed help before the fee

was set, but that reaction was nothing compared to how

the Woof Writers took my offer.

"What did you say?" Drahcir demanded, rising to all

fours with his ears back.

"I said that maybe you'd help us if we offered to pay

you," I repeated, backing away slightly. "I didn't mean

to insult you...."

"You can't insult Drahcir with money," his wife

snapped. "He meant what did you say about Vic?"

"Didn't I mention him before?" I frowned. "He's

the vampire that Aahz is supposed to have...."

There was a sudden loud flapping sound in the rafters

above our heads, like someone noisily shaking a news-

paper to scare a cat off a table. It worked . .. not on the

cat (I don't think the werewolves owned one) but on

Massha and me. My apprentice hit the floor, covering

her head with her hands, while I, more used to sudden

danger and being more svelte and agile, dove beneath

the coffee table.

By the time we recovered from our panicky ... excuse

me, our shrewd defensive maneuvers, there was nothing

to see except the vague shape of someone with huge

wings disappearing out the front door.

"This one's all yours, dear," Drahcir said firmly, his

posture erect and unmoved despite the sudden activity.

"Come on, honey," his wife pleaded. "You're so

much better at explaining things. You're supposed to

help me out when it comes to talking to people."

"It's a skill I polished at those personal appearances

you're so critical of," he retorted stiffly.

"Would somebody tell me what's going on?" I said

86 Robert Asprin MYTH-ING PERSONS 87

in tones much louder than I usually use when I'm a

guest in someone's home.

Before I could get an answer, the door burst open

again utterly destroying what little was left of my nerv-

ous system.

"Hey, Boss! Did you s—se—Wha—wa...."

"Outside, Guido!" I ordered, glad to have someone I

could shout at without feeling guilty. "Blow your nose

... and I'm fine, thanks! Nice of you to ask!"

By the time my bodyguard had staggered back out-

side, his face half buried in a handkerchief, I had man-

aged to regain most of my composure.

"Sorry for the interruption," I said as nonchalantly

as I could, "but my colleague does raise an interesting !

question .What was that?''

"Scary?" Massha suggested.

Apparently she had recovered her composure a little

better than I had. I closed my eyes and reflected again

on the relative value of cheeky apprentices.

"That," Drahcir said loftily, barely in time to keep

me from my assistant's throat, "was Vic... one of my

wife's weird artist friends who dropped in una

for a prolonged stay and, unless I miss my guess, the

criminal you're looking for who framed your partner."

"He wasn't really a friend of mine," Idnew put in in

a small voice. "Just a friend of a friend, really. Weird

artist types tend to stick together and pass around the

locations of crash spaces. He was just another charity

case down on his luck who...."

"... who is currently winging his way back to his ac-

complice with the news that we're on their trail," I

finished with a grimace.

"Isn't that 'accomplices' as in plural?" Massha asked

softly.

I ignored her.

"Oh, Drahcir," Idnew said, "now we have to help

them. It's the only way we can make up for having pro-

vided a hideout for the very person they were trying to

find."

"If I might point out," her husband replied, "we've

barely met these people. We don't really owe them an

explanation, much less any help. Besides, you still have

a deadline to meet and...."

"Drahcir!" Idnew interrupted. "It could get real

lonely sleeping in the old ke

night on a deadline, if you catch my meaning."

"Now, dear," Drahcir said, sidling up to his wife,

"before you go getting into a snit, hear me out. I've

been thinking it over and I think there's a way we can

provide assistance without biting into our own sched-

ules. I mean, we do have a friend... one who lives a

little north of here... who's temporarily between as-

signments and could use the work. I'm sure he'd be will-

ing to do a little tracking for them at a fraction of the

fee that we'd charge for the same service."

He was obviously talking in the veiled references part-

ners use to communicate or check ideas in front of

strangers, as his words went completely over my head,

but drew an immediate reaction from Idnew.

"Oh, Drahcir!" she exclaimed excitedly, all trace of

her earlier anger gone. "That's perfect! And he'll just

love Massha."

"There's still the question of whether or not we can

get him here in time," her husband cautioned. "And of

course I'll want a percentage off the top as a finder's

fee...."

"WHAT! "I exclaimed.

"I agree," Idnew said firmly. "A finder's fee is to-

tally. ..."

"No! Before that," I urged. "What did you say

88 Robert Asprin

about there not being enough time? I thought the execu-

tion wasn't scheduled until the end of the week!"

"That's right," Drahcir said. "But the end of the

week is tomorrow. Your friend is slated to be executed

at high midnight."

"C'mon, Massha," I ordered, heading for the door.

"We're heading back to Blut."

"What for?" she demanded. "What can we do with-

out a tracker?"

"We've tried being nice about this, and it isn't work-

ing," I responded grimly. "Now we do it the other way.

You wanted action, apprentice? How do you feel about

giving me a hand with a little jailbreak?"