Myth-Taken Identity

SIXTEEN

"Outnumbered," Chumley grunted, staggering back to our suite. He unlocked the door and stood aside.

"Only physically," I grumbled, throwing myself into an armchair. I was more dismayed than I was letting the others see. "If I didn't want to kill them, I'd have to admire their tactics."

"Yeah," Massha added glumly. "The way that one Skeeve-impersonator ran into the crowd and two of our Most Wanted split off from there. The hesitation blew my catch. I didn't know which was the fake Skeeve. I couldn't decide which one to go after."

"We want all of them," Eskina argued. "We must capture all of Rattila's workforce, so he cannot gather any more power. Who knows when he will accomplish his goal?"

"We'll have to wait until we see the Skeeve again, then make sure he cannot escape us," Chumley suggested. "But how to ensure his appearance? And how can we cut off all routes of egress?"

"I don't know," I growled. "I've got to think." "So, man," Cire asked, throwing himself into a chair near me and letting his flipperlike hands hang over the arms, "why did you hit me?"

"A better question might be," I snarled, raising my eyes to his, "why did I stop?"

"Hey, you're not still mad about that scam back on Pokino, are you?" Cire inquired, trying on an expression of injured innocence.

"I liked you better as a zombie," I grumbled.

Cire looked embarrassed. "Thanks, pal. I really appreciate it. You know what it's like, wandering around with someone's voice in your head telling you what to do?"

"No."

"We're going about this all wrong," Massha exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "He's got us running around all over this place. It's too big! We can't cover it all. We knew that from the beginning."

"We put the ball into his court," I realized, in annoyance, tossing the atlas onto the table. "It didn't work out the way it should have. Instead of cornering him and making him give up the impersonation, we've liberated him."

"You made him come up with some new innovations anyhow," Massha pointed out.

I grimaced. She was trying to be kind, but it stung.

"That is not what I have in mind. I hope word never gets back to the kid about being seen diving naked into a fountain full of guacamole, or cavorting drunkenly with a host of ugly females."

"Or singing," Eskina added. "He is very bad at singing."

"He won't hear it from me," Massha promised.

"Or me," Chumley agreed.

"What happened to Madama Chloridia?" Parvattani asked. "She leave-a so quickly."

"Probably had another appointment," I replied. I was a little torqued that she had taken off in the middle of things like that. "She's a busy woman. Probably had to conduct an interview. I hope she'll check in with us again soon." "In the meantime you have me," Cire interjected brightly. "That's more than a fair trade."

"Yeah," I stated curtly.

"Oh, come on, Aahz," Cire wheedled. "You're not still sore about the time I landed you in the Hoppenmar jelly mines, are you?"

I eyed him. "Let's just say you're off my holiday list for the foreseeable, okay?"

Cire opened large green eyes in play wistfulness. "Make it up to you any way I can. C'mon, we used to be partners!"

"No!" I shouldn't have shouted, but that word set off associations in my mind.

"Pals, anyway," Cire continued, not at all put out by my protest.

Truth be told, I wasn't displeased to have him on our team. He was a pretty good magician. Not in the class I had been when I had my powers, or even in Chloridia's, but adaptable and teachable.

"We cut off all the stores too soon," I began, thinking hard. "We ought to have left one outlet where he could make purchases unmolested. Something small, but irresistible. The merchandise would have to be unique and attractive, and just costly enough that the value feeds into Eskina's formula for power reward. A shop that he can't resist coming into, where he wouldn't see the trap until it sprang closed on him."

"But which of these stores fits your specifications?" Chumley asked, pointing at the atlas.

"None of them," I replied, a long, slow grin pulling the corners of my mouth outward toward my ears as my idea coalesced into shape.

Massha's eyebrows went up. "But if it doesn't exist, then how can he shop in it?"

"When we open it, he'll shop there. If we build it, he'll come. I guarantee it."

"We open a shop?" Massha echoed. "Aahz, you're insane." "No, it's the only logical step," Chumley contradicted her. "He's right: we narrowed our options too quickly, what. It is in our interest to create a shop to our own design, using our specialized knowledge and what information we have so far been able to glean about Rattila's power-collection tactics."

Eskina shook her head, admiringly. "I cannot get used to you talking like a professor."

Chumley lowered his head modestly. "It's very kind of you, but I had only a brief academic career. It made more sense to go into the personal-security business. Teaching pays so poorly in comparison."

"Can we table the mutual admiration society?" I demanded, now on fire with my idea. I pushed everything on the table to one side and spread out the map. "What we need is a smallish shop, but with some room to move around, plus a space we can use to set the detention spell. It needs to be situated close to one of the big attractions, like the cinema or the most popular restaurant."

"Or one of the anchor stores," Massha interjected.

"Yeah." I started to scrutinize the listings and circled the biggest and most popular.

As usual, stores moved around a little, but the big ones tended to stay where they were. From my experience, the best prospects seemed to be the Gnome Life Department Store, The Volcano, Beezul's Club, a membership-only warehouse stocked directly from Deva, Troll Music, Hamsterama, and a shop that made me gag even from across the hall, Adorable Tchotchkes.

"I'm crossing off Beezul's Club as a neighbor," I informed the others. "If the fake gets away from us, there are just too many places to hide. Beezul's sells everything from potions to dragons."

"Not Hamsterama, please," Massha begged. "The endless cheebling would drive me out of my mind."

"Troll Music is good," Eskina piped up.

"Too loud," we all retorted in unison.

We'd gone past Troll Music three days before while a vis- iting band performed a demo from its current offering, and my ears were still ringing. Massha's cone of silence amulet had begun to collapse in on itself because of overload.

"Which one do you prefer?" Parvattani asked me.

"As much as it pains me to suggest it," I mused, looking over the list, "Adorable Tchotchkes attracts a hell of a lot of shoppers, all day, every day. The Volcano is good. So is the cinema. A lot depends on what Moa will let us have at short notice. I don't know what's vacant where."

"Where?" Moa echoed, when we visited the administration offices to ask him about a vacant space. "Where is never a problem, Aahz. We move stores all the time. I'll have a word with the shops on either side of the big ones you listed here and see who's willing to shift. It won't be for very long, will it?"

"I hope not," I told him.

I wasn't willing to commit to a definite time frame. This enterprise had turned out to be a much longer safari than I thought coming in. Now I wasn't leaving until I had the fake Skeeve's head on a platter.

"S'all right," Moa acknowledged. He reached into the right-hand drawer of his desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper. "So, if you'll just fill these in, I'll start asking a few people. I promise that even though we're talking about a short-term lease, we'll be very reasonable about the rent."

I eyed the stack with distaste. "What's all that?"

Moa regarded me with surprise. "You're opening a store, Aahz bambino. All the right paperwork has to be filed. Lease applications, credit checks, a short essay about how you came to decide on The Mall as your target location, a copy of your personnel files, blueprints of your layout with elevations and color swatches, signed copies of Mall rules affirming that you have read and understood them, and, of course, a detailed description of what you're planning to sell." He pushed the heap toward me. "Do you need a pen?" "I—uh ..."

"Me do," Chumley announced, dragging the heap toward him. He glowered at Moa. "Pencil. Pleee-eeze."

"Of course, of course!" the administrator agreed, hastily going through his desk. He handed a pencil to the Troll, who gripped it awkwardly in his fist and began to form letters laboriously.

"About the merchandise," I began, "we haven't decided absolutely on what we're going to sell."

Moa's eyebrows climbed his bald forehead. "You'll excuse me for staring, but that's usually the first thing a prospective tenant knows when he's coming in here."

"I know that," I scowled. "I'm not doing this for the long term. This isn't really a retail enterprise. It's a trap. All we want is to set up a plausible-looking outlet that'll attract the pain in the butt I'm trying to catch. He comes in the door, we slam it shut behind him, and you don't ask any questions about what happens afterward. Later, we clean the place out and leave. My problem is solved, and you have your retail space back."

Moa's eyes went wide. "I shouldn't have asked. All right! Leave that part of the contract blank. You'll let me know, right?"

"Naturally," I agreed.

"Works of art," Chumley suggested, from his desk near the hearth in our room.

"No," I stated.

"Handwarmers," Eskina offered. She and Parvattani sat across from one another at the table where I tried to make a list of merchandise to sell.

I turned a blank look her way. "In here? It's hot as an armpit in The Mall. Who would buy handwarmers?"

"It was an idea," the Ratislavan exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "I have not seen anyone selling them." "Cheeble-pets," Chumley proposed. "They're cheap and cute."

"No way," I snapped. "If someone's going to start that fad here, it's not going to be us. Have you ever spent any time in a room with one of those? You'd go nuts!"

Chumley shook his head and bent to the list he was writing. "That lets out birdcalls, too."

"You bet your furry behind it does!" I agreed.

"Candles," Eskina suggested.

"Pocket knives," Parvattani added.

"No and no."

"Garters," Massha put in, tapping me on the head. She floated above us.

"Garters?" All four of us stared up at her. She shrugged.

"Same excuse as Eskina," she apologized. "I haven't seen anything like that here, either. Garters are sexy and fun. They started out as unisex stocking fasteners, you know, not just a female accessory. In some dimensions males still wear them. But, hey! What if they weren't just garters? What if they had gizmos attached to them? Noisemakers, or a little purse you could hide your house key in, or a magikal hourglass to remind you of your appointments? It could give you a little pinch to tell you you're going to be late to the doctor's."

"That's the most ridiculous thing—" I sputtered, then my initial rage petered out as I considered the impulse habits of shoppers. "That's just stupid enough to be unique. Good thinking, Massha. All right, let's add that to the list."

Unfortunately, it wasn't a long list. Chumley had suggested novelty candy. I had rejected the novelty angle as not being enough of a big ticket, but quality goodies might just pull in a broad range of clientele. Skeeve liked candy, so if the impostors were picking up his personal traits, they would be starting to get a real sugar jones at some point. Eskina's previous ideas had included scooters with anti-crash spells on the bumpers, a pet store selling flying mice, and magic feathers that gave you the power of flight. The last was so far-fetched I laughed out loud. Eskina wasn't dismayed. She had just kept on tossing out ideas. I had to give her credit for her perseverance.

Parvattani tried hard, but he didn't have much imagination. He suggested weapons, armor, healing charms, safety devices, antitheft gizmos. If I ever wanted to open a safety-products shop, I'd put him in charge of purchasing.

Massha's offerings had all been items of personal adornment. Hats that kept telepaths or wizards from reading one's thoughts sounded like a good idea, but they were too expensive and way too delicate. I wanted to be able to return for credit any merchandise we didn't sell. Jewelry would mean we were going head to head with at least a fifth of the stores in The Mall, and we were already courting resentment for going straight to the top of the list for a vacant store, ahead of at least sixty vendors who'd been waiting, sometimes years, for a spot.

Chumley's first notion was a bookstore, wishful thinking on his part. I had said no for two reasons: one, it was unlikely to attract the thieves, who liked flashy, expensive items, and books didn't really fall into that category; and two, he might become engrossed in reading some of the stock and miss that psychological moment to grab our impostor. Truth be told, so might I.

My own mind had gone blank. Over the years I had bought plenty of goods, but my specialty was selling services, magikal or protective or both. My mind was so focused on luring the card-carrying impostors into a small place that I didn't much care what we sold.

I had already made one trip back to Deva, for a talk with the Merchants' Association. After some heartfelt bargaining they were willing to give me pretty good terms for bulk buys with allowance for return of unsold merchandise, if only we could make up our minds what we wanted to buy.

"I give up," I grumbled, crumpling another list and tossing it into the nearest corner. "Give me your best idea. I'll see what I can do with the Merchants' Association." "Board shorts," Chumley led off.

"Cheeble-pets," Massha put in. At my dismayed face she burst out, "Well, you know they sell!"

"Bottled water," Eskina insisted.

"That is too stupid for words," I snarled. "Who outside of a desert would buy water? Par?"

The guard captain looked up shyly, glanced up at Massha, and blushed. "I, uh, I like-a Madama Massha's idea, Aahz. The garters. The romantic-a angle is very nice. Many ladies would like-a to buy them, to make their legs pretty, or a gentleman might-a enjoy buying one to adorn-a the leg of a lady he admires."

Another glance, this time toward Eskina, and Par's cheeks burned more bronzely than ever before. This time Eskina joined him, her face going pink. I couldn't help beaming. Par was a good kid. So was Eskina. If we could knock out Rattila and his henchcreature, who knew what might develop between those two?

"Okay," I breathed. "All in favor of Chumley's suggestion?" No hands went up. "Massha's?" Nothing. "Eskina's?" Bravely, Par raised his hand.

"Do not vote for mine," the Ratislavan chided him, though she looked pleased. "It was stupid! All in favor of Parvattani's?"

All of us, except the abashed guard captain, put up our hands.

"All right," I concluded, rising from my seat. "I'll go see what kind of a deal I can do with the Deveels."