Myth Alliances

TWENTY

"I'm sorry," responded a petite female Wuhs with dark curls, through the window of a pleasant blue house several blocks from the inn. "My mate is not here."

"That's strange," I murmered, almost to myself. "Everyone else was returned to their homes."

"He could be with his parents," Kassery suggested apologetically. "They are not well. He is there as often as he is here. I applaud his eagerness to be a dutiful son."

"Hmm." I nodded slowly. "That might explain it. Could you tell us how to get to their home?"

"They don't live in Pareley," Kassery offered. "I could send them a note… if I could leave here, but at present I am finding it difficult… very difficult. Is it possible that I might be allowed an explanation of my temporary indisposition? Not that I am upset about it, of course," she added hastily.

As quickly as I could I told her what had happened. "No, no, no," the female shook her head disbelievingly. 'This is not my Wensley. It couldn't be." Following Kassery's instructions, we traveled out a few days' journey into the countryside to a small village in Rennet, in the midst of a great forest just beyond the borders of Pareley. Gouda and Edam, Wensley's mother and father, the local apothecary and schoolmaster, were as puzzled as we were.

"He hasn't been here in some weeks," Gouda explained, serving us tea in a scrupulously clean kitchen. She was a plump little woman, with soft, very deft hands. "He said he's involved in a project for the common good. I might make a guess, though you can tell me if I'm wrong, and I probably am, that you are involved in that project?"

"I think we are the project," I explained. "It's just that we've lost track of him." I glanced at the others, and they nodded. No sense in worrying them, when they could do nothing.

"I thought as much. It's clever of him to bring demons to enrich our local Wuhs culture, when all the others he knows are bringing back inanimate souvenirs. Why, they can't talk, can they?"

I knew plenty of knickknacks that could talk, and more, but I didn't believe then was the time to bring that fact up. "He definitely had… has a purpose for us," I said, hastily correcting myself. I had to stop talking; my concern for the missing Wensley was making my tongue trip over itself, and it really didn't need the help. "We're trying to live up to his expectations."

Gouda smiled. "He's such an intelligent boy, so curious, though I probably shouldn't brag about him to you… but would you care to see some pictures of him as a child?" "He's still not here," Wensley's wife informed us, when we called upon her on our return to the capital. She regarded us with wide-eyed fear and hope, the latter of which I hoped we could justify by discovering his whereabouts and restoring him to his family.

"He'd surely be returned nightly, if he was still around," Montgomery told us, as he escorted us upstairs to our rooms. "We're all still having to have our secret meetings in the daytime. Once the sun sets, bang! It's cutting something fierce into my trade. But on the other hand, my lunch business is going very well," he added, talking loudly to the air.

"Are you being spied upon?" I inquired.

"Never be too careful," the innkeeper replied. "The Pervects seem to be here, there and everywhere these days."

We joined one of the secret lunchtime meetings, held with great ceremony in the back room of a tavern owned by a Wuhs named Crozier not far from the central factory. The situation had clearly worsened. Everyone was going a little stir crazy at having been under house arrest for a week. The Pervects had succeeded in intimidating them into compliance with every whim, no matter how trivial. Not that the Wuhses need much intimidating, mind you.

"We're all going to work," Gubbeen admitted to us over a mug of beer, "but we're not enjoying it. That's putting things strongly, I know, but it isn't only my opinion. I wouldn't say such a thing myself, not unless I was assured of wide support from my friends and co-workers, that is."

"The Pervects have to go," I declared, causing most of my listeners to dive underneath the table, and emerge only when it became apparent that the ceiling wasn't going to fall in on them. "But the problem is that there's no easy vulnerability that we can exploit to get them to leave. We still have to find where they're weak, and push on it."

"But they are not weak!" Ardrahan, the female commit- teefriend exclaimed, and confided to the ceiling, "They are all powerful and strong!"

"More Wuhses than ever are being taken in for extended personal conversations," Gubbeen whispered. The Wuhses who worked as janitors nodded their heads vigorously, but were afraid to say anything aloud. They had been sitting and listening to us with their mouths clamped tightly shut except to eat.

"Where are they being held?"

"In the, er, basement apartments," Ardrahan stammered, with a glance at the silent cleaning staff for corroboration.

"Is Wensley down there, too?"

"He is not… there, good Master Magician," said one of the janitors, a female with silver scattered through her black curls. "The only ones that we are, er, hosting, are those whom our visitors wish to speak to under conditions where they… aren't interrupted."

"I know about the interrogation chambers," I burst in, making them dive underneath the table again at my direct phrasing. "Is there anywhere else in the building where he could be?"

"We are fairly certain that we ought to be able to state with some degree of certainty…" one of them began.

"YES OR NO?"

"Uh, er, no." They looked taken aback that I forced them to provide a one word statement. I tried to remember that Wuhses were generally nice people, and that the frustration I was feeling was my own.

"And he's not in anyone else's home? Then he must be in a public building. Like, one of the factories, for example."

"I don't see how any of the missing Wuhses could possibly be concealed in the factories, Master Skeeve," Gubbeen protested. "Our workers clean every facility every day. The Perverts see to that." Here he gave me a hard look.

"It's not my fault they managed to come back," I retorted. "I know how disappointed you are but I did my best to make sure they stayed out of your dimension. They're tough. You knew that. I have a lot of respect for Pervects' abilities, both magikal and otherwise. They're fantastic negotiators. If I hadn't been thinking wishfully I might have guessed that they would have gotten themselves out sooner or later. I'm sorry it was sooner."

Gubbeen grumbled to himself, but he didn't say anything. I intimidated him, too, and I'm one of the least terrifying people I've ever run into, but Wuhses terrify easily.

"All right," I offered in a soothing voice, "you're probably right. How could anyone live in a factory? I'm only trying to look in all the corners, hoping to find my friend while we try to figure out what the Pervects are up to now."

I had to admit that it was a setback to have the eight turn up again so soon. Zol was at a loss to explain their reappearance.

"I don't understand it, Master Skeeve," he had stated apologetically. "I gave my testimony to the judge. In my opinion the perversion of minds is one of the greatest crimes in existence. They should have remained in custody for at least thirty days. Per victim."

But it hadn't happened. We were still dealing with ten Pervects instead of two. If I hadn't given Wensley my word, I would have been back at my studies. No, that's not true: I was worried about his disappearance, and while it had only offended me at first that the Pervects had gone from contract employees to de facto rulers of their country, now that I had seen them in action I was incensed at their callous disregard for the Wuhses.

"So we have to go back to the drawing board and formulate a new plan. Does anyone have any ideas?" I asked.

"N-n-nno," the assembly bleated.

I didn't think so. I felt sorry for them. I just wished that they wouldn't keep looking at me for leadership. But I guess it went with the territory. If Wuhses were capable of making strong decisions, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Being under the yoke of the Pervects, even by proxy, made it hard for me to think. I was going back daily to Klah to check on Buttercup. The war unicorn did fine on his own, grazing in the fields behind the inn and putting himself in his stall at night, but I could tell he was getting lonely. I brought Gleep back with me so the two of them could play while I thought. I was eager to resume my normal life, but I had a job to finish.

"All right," I sighed. "May I take a look in the factories?"

Gubbeen lowered his eyes. "I regret, Master Skeeve, that only authorized personnel may be admitted during business hours. For safety reasons, you understand."

"Really?" I asked, looking from one Wuhs to another in mock surprise. "What happened to the legendary Wuhs hospitality? All I want is a tour."

"Oh!" Gubbeen's mouth dropped open. "I apologize, Master Skeeve. How terrible of me to misunderstand you! I am so ashamed you had to ask. We would be so pleased… No one has ever wanted a tour before. Of course!"

Parrano, a lanky male with a full head of thick, pale curls, bustled ahead of us importantly. "This is so rare, to have visitors," he told us eagerly. "Normally only our directors come here. They are most particular. We have strict standards of quality."

As in every place the Pervect Ten had held sway, the building was ridiculously clean. The structure itself, a plain square of stone blocks, had none of the charm of the Wuhs town. Built by the Pervects not long after they had arrived, it had been plunked down in what had been a park, convenient walking distance from several residential areas. A few pleasant lawns with formal flower beds and clusters of bushes were maintained at the perimeter, but as one got closer to the structure itself, the ground was covered by flagstones polished to a gleam. I noticed, and Tananda could not have failed to observe, that every approach could be covered by a single person standing opposite any comer at a distance of less than a hundred yards. The factory was more easily secured in an emergency than the castle.

A couple of Wuhses in boiler suits followed us from the door, sweeping and polishing the floor where we had walked. I could have been offended, but I didn't want to attract any attention from the Pervects, and I did not want to get my hosts in trouble. All I wanted was for us to investigate and see if we could guess what the Ten were up to next.

The wooden door that Parrano led us through seemed unusually heavy for its size. I sent a pinging thread of power into it, and discovered it was a sandwich of metal concealed in between planks of wood. I followed Tananda's eyes to the ceiling overhead as we entered the showroom. A pair of disembodied eyeballs bobbed in the corners, one turned toward the door through which we had just come, and the other aimed at a smaller door at the rear of the room. There were frames on the walls with swags of curtains, but the windows in them were fake. It did look as though they were hiding something, but what?

Bunny attached herself to Parrano, asking questions. As I've mentioned before, the former Mob moll had a gift for keeping the attention of every male in the room upon her, even ones who were not strictly of her species. In this case, Wuhs physiognomy was similar to Klahdish, so I noticed that when he didn't concentrate, Parrano was addressing his answers to her cleavage, which was very much on show in the low-cut, nearly transparent blouse she was wearing.

It might sound strange to say I was immune to it; I wasn't, but I could admire her wiles for what they were: window dressing; and admire the intelligent person underneath all the more. I also had her analyzing how the factory ran: its efficiency, its potential output, the ratio of cost versus profit. I was curious as to why the Pervects were even interested in such a low-end industry. Bunny understood the fundamentals of business better than any of our crew except maybe Aahz, and she had managed to surprise even him over the years with her insights. Parrano was proving to be an encyclopedia on the subject of his precious factory.

That left Tananda, Zol and me free to examine our surroundings. I hoped that the person on the other end of the security spy-eyes was also male. If it was one of the Ten we were in trouble, but I was hoping they had more on their minds than the day-to-day operation of a concern that had been running smoothly for years without outside interference.

"You say this is one of fifteen facilities in Pareley?" Bunny cooed, running her finger along the top of a display case. She rubbed her thumb against her fingertip, managing to make the little gesture look sexy.

"Yes," Parrano stated proudly, "but ours is the oldest. We have been providing quality wares to Wuh for two years, but with skills running in an unbroken curve—I mean line!—back over three hundred years."

Six Wuhses were in the room with us, but their eyes were on their work. Three pairs, a male and a female in each, were engaged in different kinds of needlework. One pair was embroidering flowers on little squares of cloth. One pair was knitting sweaters: he a powder-blue cardigan for an infant, she a yellow V-neck substantial enough for a very large adult. The last two were crocheting doilies. I cringed at the sight of the last; I used to have a great aunt who crocheted endlessly. Whenever she came to stay with us she brought us a bale of lacy white things that had to be put out on display along with all the other ones she'd give us over the years (that my mother carefully picked up and put away when my aunt left), that could not be touched, and could not under any circumstances get dirty. The craftspeople, knowing that they were on display to off-worlders for once, were wielding their tools carefully. I could tell they were proud of their work, but they kept glancing up at us through their eyelashes, seeking approval. "These are our most average needlefolk," Parrano explained.

"They're really good," I responded without thinking.

The factory manager's mouth opened in shock. "It's very kind of you to be so extravagant in your praise," he began. "You know, the art is taught to all Wuhses equally."

I glanced at Zol, who was giving me one of those "use your compassion" expressions. "I'm sure everyone's equally good," I corrected myself.

He relaxed, and the seamstresses went back to then-work. I kept looking around. So far, I had spotted nothing suspicious or even out of place for a firm that made simple fabric handcrafts. Why was there so much security equipment here?

Niki rolled the dolly out from underneath the stamping machine and stood up. She wiped oil off her hands with a rag and threw a nod to one of the Wuhses who ran the press. Obediently, the Wuhs ran to the switch on the wall and threw it. The pistons started slowly, then increased then-tempo until they were threshing deafeningly up and down. Niki put the rag in the pocket of her coveralls and watched the process with a critical eye. The steel in this dimension was brittle and inferior, but they had to rely upon it until they could afford to bring in good ore from Dwarrow. Not that these pathetic rats deserved it. They treated her like a prison guard, jumping in fear every time she opened her mouth. Could she help it if most dimensions suffered from inadequate dentition?

Come to think of it, Wuhses didn't really need decent teeth: most of what they ate you could suck through a straw. Natural predators had been bored out of existence long ago.

Niki wasn't far away from a demise from ennui herself. She longed to get back to her own string of manufacturing plants on Perv. They could probably use an overhaul. If she had been corning up with innovations to make machines run faster and better on a miserable backwater like Wuh, then they had to be light-years ahead at home.

"All right, all of you," she barked. "Back to work."

She pointed at their work stations where the conveyor belt passed, bringing parts of the food choppers to them to assemble. One by one they started jumping over the bar at the back of their seats. "Cut that out, dammit! You'll make me fall asleep! Walk around like civilized creatures. What would your mothers say?"

"Madam!" Curdy, her squeaky-voiced office assistant came running. The plump little lambkin had soft white hair and big round eyes like a stuffed toy. Niki turned to her, bored.

"What's your problem?"

"Strangers in the factory."

"What?" she barked. Curdy gestured and started running back toward the office. Strangers? They had had a security breach in the castle, for all that Monishone had denied there was anything wrong with a room-sized spell going for a walk on its own. It must be the same intruders. Who else would want to get a look at a warehouse full of doilies? "This section is on lockdown! Don't let anyone in here but me! Got that?"