Myth-Taken Identity

EIGHTEEN

With pride and trepidation I stood at the entrance to the shop two mornings later. Our hired musician, Gniggo, a Gnomish pianist whose keyboard hung suspended in midair, played old standards, vying desperately against the disco beat blatting from the bards just outside in the corridor and the sale music piping out good and loud from above the store facade. In spite of the protection of Massha's amulet, my ears were killing me.

The Mall itself had opened only ten minutes before, but I was not surprised that hundreds of shoppers had already found their way to the newest store on the block.

Moa himself had agreed to be present at the grand opening. We also had a full contingent of security personnel on guard in case any of the counterfeits made an appearance. Though, after Sibone's intervention the other day, we had to be careful that we intercepted real phonies, not the originals whose identities had been hijacked by Rattila and restored from zombiehood by the emergency infusion of coffee. Most of the rescued shoppers were back in The Mall, making up for lost time. Parvattani, in full uniform, caught my eye from the edge of the crowd and waggled a finger unobtrusively. I grumbled to myself. It meant neither he nor any of his guards had managed to spot any of the impostors coming into The Mall. I knew they were there somewhere; I could feel it.

To deafening cheers, Moa walked out in front of the crowd with his arms raised. He turned toward the store entrance and beckoned.

Massha, decked out in a brand-new outfit of purple silk gauze trousers and abbreviated harem-girl top with silver trim and with her orange hair in a knot on the top of her head, floated casually on her side with her head propped casually on her fist to hover beside Moa. The right leg of the trousers was slit from ankle to hip, letting a lace-and-silk silver, purple-and-pink garter with a tiny silver pouch on the side peek out.

"Mwah!" Rimbaldi Djinnelli threw her a passionate kiss from the front of the crowd. "Bella donna! She is one of my best customers, you know," he told the Imp next to him.

"Massha, will you do the honors?" Moa asked.

Massha reached into the tiny pocket of the garter and drew out a gigantic pair of silver shears three feet long. The crowd gasped, then cheered. She slapped them into Moa's hand.

Moa, an old pro, stepped to one side, allowing the center of the ribbon to be visible to the crowd. "I now declare this store open. You should shop here in good health."

He cut the ribbon and ducked hurriedly to one side as an avalanche of buyers thundered into Massha's Secret.

"Ooooh! Aaaah! That's beautiful! I must have that!"

I allowed myself a wide grin, listening to the murmurs, cries, and howls of approval as the visitors perused the new merchandise.

"Mine!" shrieked a female werewolf, hanging on to one side of a powder blue feather garter adorned with a golden jewel.

"Mine!" bellowed a female Gargoyle, firmly attached to the other end. The werewolf took a swipe at the Gargoyle, and blunted her pink-painted claws on the Gargoyle's stone flesh. The Gargoyle rose into the air, trying to take the disputed item with her. The Djinnies we had hired from one of Marco's cousins started to move in to separate the combatants. Chumley waded in from his post near the wall. I relaxed. If I had any doubts as to whether this place was going to be a success, they were dispelled. We were off to a great start.

Massha plunked herself down in the violet-upholstered "husband waiting chair" under the ostrich-feather fan to the left side of the door.

"I have never been so worn-out in my life!" she declared. "Well, maybe once or twice," she corrected herself with a grin. "This was almost as much fun, though."

"No details!" I protested, trying not to let pictures pop into my head as I counted out the cash box. "That's a secret you can keep to yourself."

The Djinnies, popping gum, finished tidying up what was left of the display, and departed. The guards Par had left on duty sat against the wall next to Chumley.

"Ni-iiice," I drawled, letting coins run through my fingers. "We've already got enough here to pay off the Deveels and about half of Marco's bill. By tomorrow we ought to be running in the black."

"We did very well!" Chumley exclaimed.

"Not really," I grunted, perturbed, as I totaled sums in my head. "It means our prices are too low. If the items are jumping off the shelves like that, it means we're under the threshold of what we could be charging. Let's raise everything fifty percent by tomorrow."

"You're kidding," Massha goggled. "We made a fortune."

"We've got an exclusive here," I argued. "We've got it for one week before the Deveels start copycat operations. Let's make the most of it." "All right," Massha responded, dubiously. "You know what you're doing."

Eskina moved around the walls, poking here and sniffing there. She stopped, one foot still in the air, her eyes wide.

"What's up?" I asked her.

"It's his scent!" she replied. "I smell him! Rattila was here!"

"When?" we all asked at once.

The Ratislavan investigator closed her eyes and concentrated. "Not long before the store closed. The scent is still warm."

"Can you follow it?" I asked, but she was already on the move.

Par jumped to his feet to follow her. I tucked the bag of coins in my pocket and ran along behind.

Baying low in her throat, the Ratislavan investigator ran out into the corridor. The last few stragglers were being herded toward the nearest exit by a few of the guards. The bards had already packed up. All the noises that usually filled The Mall had died away in the distance. Eskina picked up speed. I had to run to keep up with her. The little figure in the thick white fur coat had stopped looking cuddly and harmless. We saw her in full police mode, the equal or better to Parvattani and his security force.

Cire scrambled alongside me.

"I was going to tell you, we had a few false positives in the chamber today."

I frowned. "Why didn't your trap work?"

"Well, the people proved they were the real thing," Cire explained. "Their credit was good. They didn't act like impostors."

I smacked my forehead. "Half of the identity victims cleaned up their credit rating as soon as we pulled them out of their trance! As for acting like the real thing, the impostors are really good at letting the personality in the card overwhelm their own. I'm sure when they were pretending to be you they were pretty convincing, too!" "Oh," Cire murmured in a very small voice. "I guess I should have told someone."

"Never mind," I spat out. "If Eskina can lead us to Rattila, the whole mechanism's going to collapse anyway."

Walroids! It was all coming back to me in clear and lucid memories why I had stopped hanging around with Cire. Too bad Chloridia had split. I thought of sending a message bubble to Kail to ask her when she was coming back.

Eskina reached the big intersection in front of Hamsterama. She ran back and forth in zigzags, stopping before the metal gate that barred the door. Her eyes were fixed on something very far away as she concentrated on keeping the scent in her mind.

"Open up," I ordered Par.

"The master key!" he ordered. A guard sprang forward with a magik wand and touched it to the gates. They popped open. Eskina let out a howl and snuffled her way inside. We followed into the twilit shop.

"Cheeble cheeble cheeble cheeble cheeble!" the small, furry denizens of the shop greeted us in their high-pitched voices from their little wooden hutches. Some of them put down the poker hands they were playing, others looked up from their knitting or books. I eyed them suspiciously. Were they harboring a fellow rodent somewhere? We didn't know where he might have gone to ground, so I signaled to Chumley to hang out by the door. Massha levitated to the ceiling, and I took a position against one of the turquoise-painted walls, where I could see the rest of the store.

Eskina quested among the habitats, with Parvattani on her heels, his pikestaff at the ready, presumably in case Rattila sprang out at her. Every so often Eskina would glare over her shoulder at the captain. I grabbed him as they passed me.

"Give her a little space," I whispered.

Startled, he stepped back two paces. Eskina's shoulders relaxed, but she kept her nose near the floor. Around and around she went. The cheebling rose to a deafening squeal as the resident hamsters caught her sense of urgency.

Abruptly, Eskina turned around and snuffled her way toward the door. Baying, she ran out and turned right, continuing on down the hall. I sniffed the air: hamsters, disinfectant, a faint whiff of sulfur, the lingering body aromas from a million weary shoppers. A Pervect has keen senses, especially hearing and sight, but my nose must be no match for a Ratislavan raterrier. She could pick out one subtle scent from the overwhelming smell and follow it.

"Awoooo!" she howled, by then pretty far ahead of us.

Rattila had covered a lot of ground since he had left Massha's Secret. Was Eskina moving fast enough to catch him?

"Rooooo!"

I cringed. We didn't stand a chance unless he was deaf as a post.

Faster and faster she ran. We stayed right with her, past the empty bandstands, past the shuttered pushcarts, and block after block of empty, dark showcases.

"The scent is fresh here!" Eskina called to us. "He was here only moments ago!"

I felt my blood rise. When I got my hands on that Rattila, I was going to take him to pieces. Chumley's big jaw was set so hard the fur on his face bristled. Massha had a handful of jewelry ready. We were loaded for bear.

"Awoooo!" Eskina howled, and swung around the next corner, past The Volcano.

It was always too hot around there. If I saw Jack Frost, I was going to remind him to turn up the air-conditioning. The scent led her around the next bend, past a row of tents. Eskina was panting with excitement.

In and out of the canvas jungle we wove, following the eager tracker. She let out a delighted cry.

An echo of the shrill sound came from just ahead of us. We all shut up and listened. Someone was whistling.

Around the tent occupied by Potpourri King came a squeaking cart drawn by a knee-high ungulate. Behind it an elderly Flibberite swished a mop from side to side across the shining floor. He looked up at us, and the whistle died away. He squinted through the gloom

"Eskina, isn't it?"

"Treneldi?" Eskina inquired.

The old janitor grinned and swashed forward with his mop. "What're you doing out so late, eh, dearie? Thought you'd be in the bed shop by now, turning around three times."

"Did you see anyone come through here?" I demanded.

Treneldi peered up at the ceiling ponderingly. "Not since the doors closed, no."

Eskina quested around frantically, roaming from side to side of the corridor. "The scent is gone."

"Damn!" I growled.

"C'n I help you find something?" he asked.

I looked at the huge pail aboard the ungulate's cart. "No, it looks like you have already taken care of it for us."

"Good night to you, then, sir," Treneldi replied. He resumed whistling and mopping, elbowing his way past Chumley and Parvattani.

"That's it," I declared. "We lost it. Come on. We'll check out the next hundred yards. If we don't pick it up again, we'll call it a night."

"So close!" Eskina wailed.

"Very close, my little countrywoman," Rattila muttered happily to himself, pushing the mop across the floor as he watched all the swagger droop out of the visitors' stride. He yanked back on the ungulate's tether. "Slow down. I am missing spots."

"Strewth!" the little beast said. "Why do we have to do it at all?"

"Never slack off when someone is looking," Rattila replied. "Isn't that your own rule, you mall-rats? Besides, they are not gone yet. Hush!" The big green one called Aahz came charging back as though his feet were on fire.

"One side, blueface," he snarled.

Idly, Rattila drifted to one side. The other visitors came along swiftly behind, dodging the beast and bucket as the mop licked around their feet.

"So observant they think they are," Rattila murmured smugly. "They don't notice the humble floor cleaner is hovering several inches above the floor."

"Now can we go back?" Strewth whined. Rattila kicked him.

"When we finish the floor." He smiled. "I am enjoying myself."