Myth-Taken Identity

TWELVE

It had been a few years since Garkin's moronic practical joke had robbed me of my powers. I could usually put the situation out of my mind; after all, it was temporary. In a few hundred years my powers would return normally. Or I could do some detective work and hunt down which of a hundred vendors in the Bazaar had sold Garkin the joke powder he used in the summoning spell. When I did think about it, it bugged me. So I didn't. Not that introspection wasn't a facet of my deep-thinking personality, but when you have an itch you can't scratch, it only makes it worse to dwell on it. If magik had been my only resource, I might have folded up and died, but I was a Pervect, I was intelligent, and I'd been around. Trying out an unknown magik item might sound ridiculously dangerous, but if a transformation card had been tried out extensively on a lab ... I mean, mall-rat, chances were that it would be safe for a higher order of species to use. Like me.

"Well?" I asked.

Everyone looked taller, and the quality of the light was more blue. My voice sounded very high and a little hoarse. I patted my chest, and my hand flew off it in surprise as I touched a couple of obstructions I wasn't expecting. I looked down. I was female, very skinny, with smooth blue skin. A tight band hoisted the small bosoms up for maximum eye catching. The arms were kind of nice, too, with slim wrists and long fingers, eight on a hand. Not a species I recognized. Then a memory whispered in my mind. Tantalusian. My host's name was Vishini, an animal trainer with a fondness for shoes. Except for her home dimension there weren't many places like The Mall that sold high-fashion styles in extra wide, to accommodate eight toes per foot.

"Effective," I nodded approvingly. "Totally painless."

Thinking of Garkin, I realized that a card like this would be a really good practical joke. What if you planted one of these where a buddy couldn't resist picking it up? I chuckled.

The others were still staring. I glared back.

"Knock it off, guys. It's still me in here."

"Um, well," Parvattani gulped, his cheeks a brilliant teal in embarrassment.

"Not Skeeve," Chumley rumbled.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Well, we can't leave this hanging around." I picked up the orange square and tried to snap it between my fingers. Her fingers. In any case, they weren't strong enough. "Hey, Chumley, do you mind?"

"Not at all."

"Hey, monsieur," the mall-rat protested, struggling with his guards. "Don't do it!"

"Shut up," I barked. "Break it," I ordered.

The Troll took the card from me and bent it in half. It broke with a clap of thunder.

The next thing I knew I was flat on my back, staring up into the anxious faces of Parvattani's guards.

"Back off," I snarled.

My body was my own again, my handsome scales restored to their bright green, my clawlike fingernails intact, the fingers reduced to the right number. The guards jumped back. I staggered to my feet and tested my head to make sure it was still fastened on.

"That kicks like a mule. Gimme the next one."

"Isn't that a bad idea, Aahz?" Massha asked, worry written all over her big face. Her voice seemed to echo in my head.

"Not if I disinvoke before we break them," I insisted. I gestured toward the rat, who was crooning a worried song to himself. "He didn't go into a fit when I fell over, did he?"

"Nossir!" exclaimed the two guards flanking the prisoner.

I turned back to Massha and Chumley. "See?"

The mall-rat stared at me in astonishment. "You must be of the ultimate toughness, monsieur. That snapback killed Farout."

"Who's Farout?"

The rat, sensing he had said too much, clamped his jaws shut.

"Never mind." I waved a dismissive hand and reached for the next one.

"Me try?" Chumley suggested.

"No way," I stated firmly. "If I become something large and hostile, you'll have to be the one to sit on me. Let's get this out of the way and identify the Skeeve card. We can be back at the Bazaar in an hour. We'll just wing through them until we get the right one."

Par cleared his throat. "Aahz, we must keep a list of the—er, people-a you become. They are all-a victims inna this, too."

I raised an eyebrow. Massha nodded.

"Just because we're getting what we want doesn't mean we can't spend a little more time and help The Mall," she pointed out. 'Think how their friends and family feel about the violation of their identities."

"Aww." But Massha was right. "I'll do it," I agreed.

We repaired to Moa's office. We brought the administrator up to date, though he'd been following the chase by crystal ball. He was fascinated by the whole process, by the cards, and my experience with the first one.

"No wonder we've never been able to detect the thieves in all this time," he exclaimed, thumbing through the stack again and again. "Remarkable, remarkable." He glanced at Eskina. "Young lady, maybe I owe you an apology."

Eskina tossed her head. "And maybe I accept."

"We've got to go through the rest of these," I explained. "Thought it'd be nice to do it in more comfortable surroundings, where it's more private."

"Of course, Aahz, of course," Moa insisted hospitably, spreading out his hands. "It's nice to find such consideration in the world."

"Er, speaking of consideration" I began, then interrupted myself. "Never mind! I just need some space, all right?"

"Whatever you say," Moa assured me. "Would you like to use my office?"

I glanced around at the furnishings, especially the handsome upholstery and the range of breakables on the walls and tabletops.

"Better not," I stated. "If I can't control the cards, I might end up redecorating in here."

We ended up in an empty storeroom down the hall from the offices. Two of Parvattani's guards stood sentry outside the door. Four of them hung out at each wall. Massha, Chumley, and, to my extreme annoyance, Woofle stood at a safe distance, but close enough to jump on me if I needed it. All of them were watching me nervously.

I invoked the next card.

I have experimented with magik a lot. Not during my younger days, when I was way too serious, but later on, sometimes out of necessity, other times out of boredom, but I had never come across anything like the Ratislavan system. Like most magicians I was accustomed to taking my power out of the lines of force present in nearly every dimension to a greater or lesser extent. Nature renewed that flow. It was impersonal, neither good nor evil, and a magician could make use of it according to his, her, or its own talents, gifts, and inclination. This was different. I could feel power coming through me from the card in my hand, a weak trickle, and with it came a personality.

If you have never been possessed, don't. Let me give you my spur-of-the-moment reaction to using the card: it was weird. I knew who I was, Aahzmandius, Pervect, and all the millions of little details that make me me, but at the same time I knew I was also Dreo, a wood-carver from Creet. I thought of myself—my borrowed self—as a nice enough guy, but I didn't like to be around a lot of other people. I could almost sense through the walls the thousands of other shoppers. It made me jumpy. This was directly opposed to me, Aahz, who likes being in the midst of the bustle of a busy place. The two personalities rubbed one another raw. It was worse than telepathy; there was no place to hide from the other guy. I found myself feeling sorry for hydras.

"What's his-a name, Aahz?" Par asked, clipboard at the ready.

"Dreo. Cretin. I mean, Creetan," I corrected, at the fierce urging of the "visitor" in my head.

I pushed the card away. Soon, but not soon enough, I was alone in my head again.

"This could be marketable," Woofle was saying, as I snapped out of it.

"No," I bellowed.

He gave me an annoyed look. I liked the finance guy less than ever.

"Never. I can't even begin to tell you what a bad idea that would be. You'd be asking for assassination attempts, or worse, lawsuits, if you tried to sell this process over the counter. You like it so much, you try it."

"All right," Woofle snarled, accepting the challenge.

He took a card from Massha. Once he had chanted the spell, his scrawny body was replaced by a tall, black-shelled insectoid fashionista from Troodle.

"Now, look at the possibilities inherent in this..." Woofle began, gesturing at his/her figure. Then his mandibles clicked uncomfortably, and his multiple-lensed eyes started to roll. He clutched his head. "Stop that! Shut up! No, I am not a boring dresser! Be quiet! Aagh!"

Hastily he undid the spell and threw the card on the ground. His round Flibberite face contorted with fear and disgust.

"Get rid of them! All of them!"

"We're trying to, Woofle. Calm yourself," Moa advised.

"Name, sir?" Parvattani asked, politely. "We need it to compare with store receipts to verify fraudulent purchases."

"Do you think I want to remember?" Woofle shrieked.

I groaned. Wimp. "I'll do it." I picked the card up off the floor, and was in and out of the Troodleian in nothing flat. "Ch'tk'll."

"Thank you, sir."

"See what I mean?" I tried not to gloat, but I didn't like Woofle. "You only were in for a moment. If you stayed a different being too long, you might lose your own identity,"

"Then how come a rat like that can keep using them over and over?" Woofle demanded.

"We have, how you say, not much mind to call ou-air own," the mall-rat acknowledged modestly.

"If you've got a healthy ego, this system could destroy it," I told Eskina.

The investigator waved a hand. "There will be bugs worked out."

"This isn't a bug, it's an infestation," I insisted. But I went on doping out the identities embedded in each magikal card.

The third from the last card in the pack was Skeeve. I didn't need the shocked looks on the faces of my friends to know I'd hit it. I could hear his inner voice talking to itself, probably at the last minute that his card had been stolen or copied.

Wow, that girl is really something. She's a vampire! Aahz wouldn't like that. He was really upset when he found out Blut was behind our tent. Sometimes he worries too much. They don't seem so bad.. . I think Casandra really likes me. I hope she's impressed. I feel like a phony, but everyone's treating me like a big shot... I shoved the card away from me. I'd heard and felt more besides that inner monologue, a whole lot of things I really didn't want to know about my ex-partner's inner workings. I felt as if I was barging into his mind, like mental breaking and entering.

"Destroy it," I croaked. "Now!"

"Right you are, Aahz," Chumley asserted. He snapped the blue plastic rectangle in two, then four, then eight pieces.

"What about these?" Massha asked, holding up the last cards.

"Gimme a minute," I snarled. I recovered my usual composure and processed the final two, an Imp and a Gnome.

"Thank you, thank you, Aahz!" Moa beamed. "You have done us a great service. We realize you didn't have to assist us further, but we are grateful."

"Don't mention it," I grunted. "What are you gonna do with Fuzzy, here?"

I aimed a thumb at the mall-rat chained with lightnings.

"We will lock him up. Based on all the identifications you just made we can probably connect him with a lot of shoplifting incidents."

"That's it, then." I dusted my hands together with satisfaction. I turned to Massha and Chumley. "We can go home."

"But there are more members of this gang out there!" Woofle protested. "You're not going to help us solve the rest of the problem?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I set out our terms at the beginning. But we've weakened them a lot. We've just knocked out Rattila's access to a bundle of his victims. And you can get a lot of information out of this vermin. If you can't, I bet Eskina has some ideas."

The Ratislavan investigator showed her sharp little teeth.

"Certainly I do." She grinned. "Do you want me to start now?" She advanced upon the mall-rat, who cowered back to the extent his bonds allowed.

"Please, monsieur, get her off me! She's rabid!"

"You be cooperative with this guy," I indicated Moa, "and he'll see that she doesn't shred you. Too much."

"I comply, monsieur, I comply!"

"Okay," I concluded, pulling the D-hopper out of my pocket. "We're out of here. Moa, it's been nice meeting ya. If you're ever in the Bazaar, look me up."

"Wonderful!" Moa shook our hands. "You all certainly deserve your reputations. I am very impressed. But don't go now! At least stay tonight. We'll have a celebration. A party in your honor. We'll have a feast, dancing, kegs of ale—"

"Don't mind if I do," I accepted, with a grin. Massha and Chumley agreed.

The Ratislavan marched back and forth, kicking boxes of new shoes out of his way with angry feet. His hairless tail lashed. The mall-rats, most especially the eight remaining "specials," cringed together in a fearful knot.

"One of our number has been arrested," Rattila shouted, for about the hundredth time.

"We tried to get away," Oive wailed. "That Pervert is too tricky!"

"You were stupid!" Rattila bellowed.

He pointed a finger at her, and lightning sprang from its tip. Oive looked at the burned patch on the ground at her feet and fainted dead away. Strewth and the other mall-rats edged backward.

"Hmm, that's new," Rattila mused, staring at his finger. "This! This is what real power is all about! They must not stop us now! I will drain all of their talent!"

"How?" Strewth asked. "They figured out about the cards, Big Cheese. They keep breaking 'em; we don't have any way to buy more stuff for you." "Steal their essence! Use up the magicians we have until they're empty shells. They don't realize what they have done," the Ratislavan tyrant raged, "but this means war!"

"Dude," whispered Wassup to Strewth, "I think we, like, created a monster."