Myth-Chief

"Isn't that the whole idea?" I said, genuinely puzzled.

"Of course, that's the same pool of clients that are currently going to M.Y.T.H., Inc., isn't it?"

"But... That isn't... I ... Oh."

Suddenly everything fell into place, and I was in complete touch with my feelings. Mostly, I felt immensely stupid.

"Two of their biggest clients are the Chamber of Commerce and Don Bruce, both of which made their original deals directly with you," Bu

Now, in addition to feeling stupid, I was feeling the begi

"Maybe I should go back and talk this out with them," I said, turning around and gazing back toward the direction where the tent lay. "This isn't at all what I intended. If nothing else, there's no way I could take on either the Chamber of Commerce or Don Bruce's jobs by myself— excuse me, with just the two of us." I didn't want to offend my only remaining colleague. My brain felt as if it wanted to force its way out of my eyeballs.

"No. Let it sit for a while," Bu

I followed her glumly toward the Merchants Association tent. First things first: we needed a place to set up shop. Then I needed to think about what exactly I would be doing in it.

TWO

"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

A week later, Bu

"Skeeve, the new business cards are here!"

I nodded without looking up from the fifth revision of the proposed lease for the new building that the two of us now occupied. The tent had even less charm than M.Y.T.H., Inc.'s had had when we first moved in and less than a quarter of the space. The Merchants Association of the Bazaar at Deva had some idea that since it was me, they were entitled to boost the rent for the tent skyward. I was mentally composing the reply I was going to send them, starting with the information that it was still my signature on the first lease and ending with a reminder that they had not disclosed all the hidden flaws in the first tent I had rented from them, most particularly the back door that opened out into the dimension of Limbo, a fact that would have put us off renting the place if we had known. The argument was pure formality among Deveels, who, of all the dimensional inhabitants I have known, are the most fond of negotiating matters to their own benefit, preferably at the top of their lungs. While we were still in Klah, I had thought about changing headquarters to a less potentially haunted location, but after so many years, the old tent was where clients expected to find me. No sense in making people in trouble try to hunt down another address in the Bazaar. I'd had no idea that it would be necessary for the friends I had left behind that I do

so, and promptly.

The Merchants Association had been happy to take us on a midnight magic-carpet tour of available properties. I had rejected outright an otherwise desirable six-room storefront with a courtyard garden inside for Gleep and Buttercup to play in, mainly because it stood directly beside one of the Bazaar's busiest brothels. Not that I had anything against people in professional horizontal work, but the clients waiting to be interviewed by the majordomo had begun to size up Bu

The next two showplaces were frankly insults. The property next to the arena selling dragons had fallen vacant, to no one's surprise. It always emptied out at the end of every lease, no matter how desperate the tenant. I couldn't even consider it. The noise and the smell alone would have put off clients, let alone the danger of ru

One of the Deveels showing us the property sulked openly. I assumed he had a financial interest in the dragon booth and had had visions of gold coins dancing in his brain.

The second one, only a block away, had nothing to redeem it either. The modest tent faced away and was invisible from a busy corner not a dozen paces distant.

"Too subtle," Bu

"What have you got in these areas?" she asked.

With a sigh, our guides directed the Dji

Location, location, location, as Catchmeier, the real-estate Deveel, kept reciting to us, as if repetition made it truer than anything else he said. Just before the sun came up, we landed in front of a tent I wouldn't have looked twice at if I'd been on my own. To my surprise, it lay across a busy passageway from the Golden Crescent I

"It's got all the comforts of home," Catchmeier said, holding aside the flap of the tent. I peered inside. The decor in the transdimensional building concealed by the magikal portal hadn't been updated in years, maybe not since the spell was laid, but I couldn't see anything basically wrong with it. I got a glance of tired walls painted in faded designer beige, worn wooden floors, and battered lintels between rooms. '"Skylights in the two main rooms. Outhouse out the back. Regular trash pickup. Safe neighborhood—hardly any murders in the last ten years. Well, the last two anyhow. Last two months," he admitted at last. "What do you think?"

Bu

"Just come with me," Catchmeier had said. "We'll have the paperwork drawn up for you in no time. No trouble."

No trouble. Hah. I turned over the second-to-last page, to make sure all the changes we had agreed on were present—this time. A scurry of thin black lines caught my eye. I turned back the page in haste. A clause in very fine print was trying to avoid my eye. I slapped my hand down on it and read through my fingers, shifting them so I could finish without it getting away. Catchmeier had inserted a transitive clause, one that would make me liable for damages for any accidents within a live-hundred-yard radius of the building. Not a chance. I growled a little as I reached for my quill pen to scratch it out.