Class Dis-Mythed

Chapter Twenty

I sat at my study table, ostensibly comparing the power capacity of two hunks of magikal crystal from Herkymer. It had been about a week since my students had left. The old inn was quiet again—too quiet. Bunny had taken a few days off to take Buttercup to a unicorn show, leaving me and Gleep to our own devices. Gleep, usually the most ebullient of pets, was depressed at the absence of his best friend, and sat at my feet emitting mournful sighs and the occasional whiff of stench. We were both grateful when they returned earlier this afternoon, Buttercup proudly showing off his medallion for Best War Animal. He and Gleep had charged off into the woods to play. Bunny entertained herself quietly in her sitting room. Having been by myself for several days I was ready to hear all about her trip, but she had forestalled me with an upraised hand.

"Now, don't pay any attention to me, Skeeve," she chirped brightly. "Don't stop your research just because I came home. I brought back a stack of new magazines to read. Just pretend I'm still not here."

After the enforced silence, that was impossible. I found myself glancing up at any little noise, just to have a distraction from the silence. It surprised me how much I missed the class. Or, maybe, I was more sociable than I thought I was. Living like a hermit was not my natural habit and, as soon as I felt more like a master magician than a faker, I'd be back in the thick of things in a blink.

A trill of birdsong brought my attention away from the blue chunk. I had to stop that. Mastering complex magik required concentration, and the best concentration was found in silence. It was one of the reasons that old Garkin had his cottage way out in the woods—that and the penury that often accompanies sincere magikal study. I was enough of a realist to know I was more than fortunate being able to take a sabbatical with a full strongbox. I wouldn't have to scratch, as my old master had, to buy thurifers and censers and candles and all of the paraphernalia that magicians surrounded themselves to assist in their studies. Most of it was unnecessary window dressing, to impress a client. Consecrated salt? I had a barrelful. Rare incense? You name it, I had it. Still another percentage of items only served as another focus for concentration, such as gazing crystals and magik mirrors. The remainder was genuinely useful for certain kinds of magik, storing power or focusing it in some way that might not come naturally to a practitioner, or for use by a non-magician. I had a crate full of such gizmos. Each of them had been fun for a while, but I had put them aside in search of processes I could evoke rather than invoke.

For a moment I was ashamed of the remarkable plenty I enjoyed. Maybe, when I decided to rejoin civilization, I'd endow a scholarship to help poor magicians get a start in their studies. If they couldn't make it after learning the basics, they were on their own.

The bird sang again, its voice echoing in the emptiness. Maybe I should take up bull-wrestling, or foster a houseful of banshees, just to raise the sound level a little. Or maybe I should start a game show.

In the study next door, Bunny had hooked into the Crystal Network again. Voices and music made me strain to hear. In the midst of it all I heard a BAMF!

"Tananda! You made it!"

"Hey, Bunny! I brought popcorn. When's it get started?"

"Soon! Let me pour you some wine."

"Hi, Bunny," a little voice said. I recognized it as belonging to Markie.

I heard a clunk as the wine carafe rang against something solid. Tananda's voice rang, too, with outrage. "What is SHE doing here?"

I stood up, wondering if I should charge out there and get between them. I didn't have to worry. Markie could take care of herself.

"She's—not so bad, Tanda," Bunny said slowly. "She was ready to jump in and help Skeeve out a few weeks ago. It turned out he didn't need her, but I thought it was pretty nice of her to offer."

"Well—that's different from the way she was before."

"She's trying to be different. I'm trying to—accept it."

"I brought some wine," Markie added eagerly. "It's just a little 'thank you' for letting my nephew stay on here. You can't believe the difference it made in him. I'm sure you will like it. Chateau Cupido, extra sec, from my aunt's vineyard."

"I'm not saying that would make everything all right," Tanda said, but her voice started losing that constricted quality.

"No," Markie replied. "I'm not asking for that. Just give me a chance."

"Well, sit down, I suppose. Do you do any crystal-gazing?" Tanda asked.

"When I get a chance. You mean you're a fan, too?"

"Do chocolate bunnies get their ears bitten off? You bet!"

Bunny became positively expansive. "I love it. It's really opened up the world to me, you know? And I've gotten to know so many other people through the ether. Oh, look. It's about to start!"

"Did you see the first three episodes?" Tanda asked.

"Oh, yes!" Bunny said. "Everyone at the unicorn show was a big fan. We spent hours watching!"

I moaned to myself. Crystal-gazing fans. Now they were going to talk about one of their programs until the trivia bled out of my ears.

"Where's Skeeve?" Markie asked.

"Studying," Bunny said. I heard the glug of liquid. "He'll come out later."

Guiltily, I bent over my table to try to make her easy assurance ring true. The three of them laughed and chattered. I peered at my crystals. The pink one held more energy than the blue one, but didn't retain it as long. Would it be possible to transfer power from the pink one to the blue one? Treating the crystal as if it was a force line, I drew on the pink power. It began to fill my inner 'battery.' So far so good. Now, I tried transferring it to the blue crystal. It grew hot. I dropped it on the table and began to rethink my approach. Pernadairy's Treatise on Magikal Crystals listed eighteen different means of releasing power from natural prisms, and only the three messiest made any reference to heat.

A series of crackles, pops and snaps erupted in the next room while Tanda and Bunny sought the connection in the ether they wanted.

Bytina, the little red PDA, was almost as good as a real crystal ball, but being a philosophical device more than a magikal one, she had odd problems of her own. The way she used power tended to build up a static-like charge that attracted nuisance emissions, insubstantial images, which infiltrated the house and appeared suddenly out of closets or other unexpected places. I saw a Troll carrying a sword pop up out of my clothing trunk one day. I nearly blasted my own wardrobe apart until I realized it was just an advertisement for a collectible weapons dealer. Tanda had showed me how to deal with commercial interruptions so I could dispell them for Bunny, but since Tanda was here, she could banish them herself.

A sepulcheral voice boomed throughout the inn. "THIS is Sink or Swim: Perv. "

Peppy theme music started playing, resonating in my crystals. The blue one started glowing, making the skin on my hands lose its normal hue. I got interested in the phenomenon and stopped listening. Sink or Swim like all the remotely-viewed contests only held my interest in a marginal way. I found it hard to work up enthusiasm without being there. SOS was no sillier than any other game.

At the beginning of each show the relentlessly cheerful announcer, Schlein, arrived in a puff of smoke. He would recap the previous day's exploits and explain the concept anew for the audience. The rules were arbitrary but ironclad. Only amateur magicians could enter, meaning that they could never in their lives have accepted pay for performing a spell. Schlein always followed that rule up with "It's not too late to go back in time and return that quarter to your Grandpa, kids!" Which was met by hysterical laughter by the studio audience. No weapons except those allowed in the rule book, which Schliney always showed was empty. (Earning another big laugh from the viewers.) In fact, the contestants had to go into this contest practically naked. Pretty tough for a contest where the prize was survival itself. Some of the tasks the contestants were set were so dangerous no one but a complete fool would even consider undertaking them. It was stupid. I had no stake in it. No interest. I forced myself to concentrate on what I was doing.

The music ended and a deep, friendly voice spoke.

"This is Sink or Swim! And now, the host with the most, the one, the only—heeeere's Schleiny!"

BAMF!

I didn't have to see it to know that Schlein, a handsome male from Sittacom, had emerged from his puff of theatrical smoke. He had a habit of rubbing his hands together like a predatory insect which, apart from the green skin and antennae, he did not otherwise resemble. As spotlights swung to and fro over his head, he began his traditional introduction.

"Welcome to Sink or Swim! This is Day Four of the brand new series set here on Perv. Our original sixteen teams have already been pared down to eight. Following is a holographic representation of some of the highlights of the last few days."

Exciting music with a catchy, rapid beat rang out.

"Yes, indeed, you had to be there! Now, you know the rules of Sink or Swim, but we're going to recap them for you now. Amateur magicians only. Entrants can never have accepted money for doing magik under any circumstances. It's not too late to go back in time and return that quarter to your Grandpa, kids!"

Hilarious laughter from the studio audience and the three women watching from the sitting room.

Schlein continued. "That restriction is enforced by an oath administered by our Spectre team with dire consequences visited upon anyone who is lying to try to get in. We don't mess around here, folks! All the contestants are split up into teams of one to eight players. Each team must fulfill any task assigned to it. No weapons except those listed in the rulebook. Uh-huh," he added gleefully as the audience laughed again at what I knew was an empty book. "That's right, folks. Mechanical or physical objects are not allowed. You have to use your wits!"

Well, that was a weapon most of the viewing public wasn't going to be able to wield.

At that moment the blue crystal emitted a shower of sparks. I tried to get it to do that again. When I next found myself paying attention, Schlein was several paragraphs farther in his introduction.

"…Magikal interference with the performance of others is not only allowed, it's expected! Once you're out of a round, you may not use magik on anyone else remaining in play, or your whole team will be disqualified. Failure of any team to complete a task will put it on the Wheel of Misfortune, where one team will be eliminated after the end of each day by a spin of that day's most successful group. Once all teams but one have been eliminated, the members of that team will be pitted against one another in a life and death struggle for the Grand Prize—a commission to work for the famous Mistress Montestruc!"

I didn't have to glance into the room to see the silhouette that appeared in Bytina's expanded image. When I had sat with Bunny to watch Sink or Swim: Zurik, I'd gotten the impression of plenty of long, red hair piled up on the head of a formidably statuesque female form. Because the rest of the figure was in shadow, I had no idea Mistress Montestruc's race. All that was visible was a glimmer that could have been satin or a glistening hide. Bunny cooed at the glimpses of huge, glittering gemstones around Mistress Montestruc's neck, waist and wrists.

Schlein went on with his spiel. I could have recited it with him. "This fabulously wealthy and reclusive heiress has business interests across the dimensions. Who knows? You may end up president of a shipping company, operator of a casino, or running errands for the lady herself in her fantastic villa in the exclusive dimension of Nola! All this to one lucky contestant at the end. And now—will our teams Sink or Swim?" In my mind I could see Schlein wave his hands. "Sink or Swim: Perv," etched themselves in huge green letters on the air then dissolved.

"Here's what happened yesterday!"

More dramatic music, over which Schlein offered peppy narration. I had noticed that no matter which game or contest Bunny viewed, the commentators were all relentlessly cheerful, remarkably stupid, and endlessly talkative.

"The All-Pervects really got into it with the Dragonettes. Where they had lost ground with the Volcano Challenge, the All-Pervects really surged back into the lead with the eating contest. At the gun the four Trolls and a dragon team had consumed nine whales, and the All-Pervects, nine and a half! What a mouthful that was!

"Next, the Sorcerer's Apprentices, who won the Free Pass Challenge on the Acid Trapeze the day before yesterday, got to sit out the Wheel of Misfortune with the rest of yesterday's winners. The Dragonettes, the Gargoyle Girls, Sid's Slashers, Garonamus, the Bald Guy with Muscles, and the Sharkbait teams all had to spin to see who goes home! What suspense! What terror! What a surprise when Sid's Slashers drew the unlucky straw!"

A trumpet blew a scale of descending notes, indicating disappointment. Tananda and Bunny added their sighs.

"Well, we're happy they were here. The rest of the teams are still raring to go!"

Fanfare!

"Since we're past the halfway point in Sink or Swim: Perv" Schliney went on suavely, "we invite our on-the-spot odds-maker to give us his insight into how the contest is going. Will you all welcome—The Geek!"

My ears perked up at the familiar name. I had known the Geek for a long time. He was a Deveel, well known around the Bazaar. The last time I'd seen him, coincidentally, was about the same time I had seen Markie. He had foisted her off on me to try and destroy my reputation in the Bazaar. To say there was no love lost between us was to make the relationship sound warmer than it was.

"Geek, welcome."

"Schlein, always happy to be here."

Yes, that was the Geek, all right. He sounded oily enough to grease a castle drawbridge with his tongue. Not a bad notion, now that I thought about it. I wondered how I could engineer that happy accident, and whether I could sell tickets. I knew plenty of people who would buy one.

Temper, temper, I chided myself.

"Geek, you've been watching the action since Day One. Give us your feedback, and let us hear your predictions for the outcome of this most thrilling contest."

"Well, Schlein, we've lost a few contenders. I gave good odds that the Battling Bugbears would have made it through to the final round, but when the Imperators tripped them up on the obstacle course, all bets were off. Then the Imperators got their own clocks cleaned by Sid's Slashers—my odds-on favorites—who just lost the Wheel of Misfortune challenge. Then there was the problem that the Gargoyle Girls had against the always-dangerous Second Lieutenants with Compasses, but eventually won out. As for the others, I told you from the beginning the odds in their favor were too long to bet on."

"I'll bet you did!" Schlein retorted perkily. "So, as we go into the next round, tell me the odds on the remaining teams. What's your angle on today's contest?"

"Well, Schlein, the Ogre-wrestling contest has always been a favorite of mine…"