Myth-Taken Identity

TWENTY-EIGHT

"You must take this, too, darling madama," Rimbaldi insisted, draping another pair of djeanns on Massha's outstretched arms, this one in acid green. "And accessories! Belts, bracelets, scarves, anything you like! We must make up for the things that villain took from you. My cousin Paolo does his best to repair your lovely belt and bracelets. You shall have more, more, more!"

"I'm overwhelmed, you beautiful man," Massha batted her eyes at him. "That's plenty, honest! Stop!"

All morning the denizens of The Mall had been showing their gratitude for our capture of Rattila and his mob. Massha admired herself in the big three-way mirror, attended by a troop of willing Djinnies and a couple of Rattila's ex-henchrats.

"By the way," I asked, sitting in the midst of a mountain of boxes with my name on them, "what was the deal you made with those creatures?" I gestured toward a rat who went out in search of an orange belt in Massha's size to go with the green pants.

"Well, you know, the mall-rats were scared to death!" Massha declared, holding a scarf up to her ample chin and adding it to her heap of swag. "They're really harmless lit-' tie creatures, if you overlook their penchant for picking up anything that isn't nailed down. What with all those Djinns pouring into the store, and the guards chasing them everywhere, they thought they were about to die. Once we got them all surrounded I realized they were Rattila's pawns. With Chumley's help I kept the storekeepers from killing them while I negotiated a settlement. Negotiation," she repeated with a wink at me, "is something I learned from both my teachers."

"Save the flattery," I growled. "Let's hear the rest."

Massha winked at me. "Well, I got the Djinnellis to agree that if the mall-rats surrendered their cards, they would hire them to help shore up security all over The Mall. As lifelong shoplifters, they know where all the holes are, so to speak, and they exploit them. Now they can point them out to the owners. Their leader, the one they call Strewth, persuaded the other mall-rats to agree, as long as they didn't have to be official, er, rats. They had a reputation to protect."

"Parvattani agreed," Chumley put in. "He told them they can work undercover. He even offered them their special undercover uniforms."

I laughed, remembering the gaudy getups we had turned down. "Inspired!"

"Indeed!" Chumley cheered. "I was very proud of Massha. I wish you could have seen how well she handled it all."

"It was nothing," Massha bridled, shoving Chumley backward into his collection of goodies.

The Troll, too, was surrounded by boxes of books, candy, grooming products, and anything in which he had ever expressed even the most passing interest. The patch of acid-singed fur on his chest had been expertly barbered and doctored by the local alchemist, all free of charge.

All the frozen clerks and guards in the loading dock had been restored to life once Rattila's power was broken. The shopkeepers of The Mall were overwhelmed with gratitude, now that the ring of thieves had been broken and Rattila hauled away by a triumphant Eskina.

The little investigator had left early that morning for Ratislava. She had persuaded Parvattani to go with her, not that he needed a lot of persuading. He was in love.

"For a tour of the most beautiful dimension of them all," she had told me, giving me a kiss good-bye. "I have succeeded in my mission, thanks to you. I shall most likely get a promotion. And possibly, a lifelong friend." She was in love, too. It was kinda sweet.

"Aahz, there you are!"

Chloridia swept into The Volcano with a hand through Cire's elbow. She stretched out two free arms to embrace me.

"I wanted to say farewell. I need to get back to Kallia. I have a documentary lined up to warn people about the trauma I have just gone through! The dangers of unbridled shopping!"

"I'm going with her," Cire added, blowing out his mustache. "Now that The Mall has cleaned up my credit, I've got some free time, and the publicity wouldn't hurt. Thanks for everything, Aahz. Friends?"

"Of course we're still friends," I tossed off, casually, shaking his outstretched flipper. "You're not half so bad as you used to be. You did good."

Chloridia gave her tinkling laugh. "You should come, too. You are the great hero of the day! Let me interview you on the network. It'd be a tremendous boost for you."

"No, thanks, sweetheart," I demurred. "All I want to do is go back to the thinking I was doing when all this started." A commotion near the front of the shop attracted my attention. "And there's the chair I'm going to do it in."

Delivery Flibberites in pale brown uniforms guided a floating platform containing a huge form under a tarpaulin through the crowds of shoppers and lowered it at my feet.

"Your new chair, sir," the lead deliveryman announced.

I threw off the covering and circled it, cackling with delight. "Look at that! Mahogany wood, dark red leather upholstery, drink-holders, magikal entertainment system, full horizontal recline—every bell and whistle!" I threw myself into it. The cushions conformed to my body as if they had been made for it, which they had. "Aaaaah."

"Stylish," Chumley commented.

"Beautiful," Massha agreed.

"Very lovely," Chloridia acknowledged, leaning over to kiss me. "Ta-ta, darling."

"Later, Aahz," Cire added. He waved a hand, and the two of them vanished.

"Mr. Aahz!" Woofle bustled over to me, a receipt in his hand. "You can't expect me to pay this amount! It's outrageous!"

Moa sauntered in after his fellow administrator. "Pay it, Woofle." It sounded like that wasn't the first time he had said it.

"But, Moa!" Woofle looked like he was about to explode in outrage.

"Pay it. He earned it. Even more than that."

I tilted my head to look up at him. "You're not going to bring up that crap about a reward again," I moaned.

I had rejected their offer last night and again this morning. Every time I did it, it was more painful, but I had made myself a promise, and I was trying to stay serene about it. Besides, Chumley and Massha were watching me.

"Why not?" Moa pressed.

"Because I did what I came here to do: restore my partner's good name and make sure it couldn't happen to him again," I stated. "I did it. Now I'm going home."

"But you saved all the other shoppers, too," Moa pointed out. "You're not going to stand on principle about that?"

I vacillated. I had earned the reward according to the deal I myself had made, but it was the principle of the thing. Skeeve would have made me stick to it. After all, I had done this for him. It hurt, but I said it.

"No. No reward."

Massha and Chumley let out the breaths they had been holding. Moa's mouth quirked in a little smile.

"I'll tell you what," he suggested, "I'll make you good with Marco Djinnelli, and we'll also pick up any other expenses you incurred on our behalf, including everything from Massha's Secret. You'll at least be even."

"Even!" Woofle snorted, with a scornful gesture. "There must be ten thousand gold pieces' worth of goods here!"

"All gifts," I pointed out.

"And your service was worth every copper." Moa addressed me directly. "By the way, speaking of Massha's Secret, I just want you to know that several Deveels have all applied to open garter shops here, starting just exactly a week from when you opened yours. We were happy to oblige, since your merchandise was so popular."

"Uh-huh." I had my own ideas of who had called in the tax bureau the first time, and I suspected Moa did, too, but we would never be able to prove it. "Any of 'em read their leases all the way through?" I asked innocently.

"No," Moa replied, with a conspiratorial wink. "You'd think they would, knowledgeable businessdemons like that."

"Good," I stated, with an answering grin. "I hope they all have all the luck they deserve."

Moa waved a hand. "We'll deliver all of this to your residence, of course. Again, Aahz, thank you. Your M.Y.T.H., Inc. certainly does merit its reputation."

He withdrew, taking the protesting Woofle with him.

"I'm impressed, sugar," Massha remarked, propping her hip on the arm of my recliner. "And Skeeve would be proud of you. Are you going to tell him about it?"

"Nah," I replied. "I don't want to interrupt his education. I'll drop Bunny a line and tell her the whole thing was a mistake."

"One of these days"—Massha smiled—"someone's going to find out what a softy you are inside."

"When that day comes I'll have to rip out his guts," I asserted. "That includes the two of you if you ever tell any- one I gave anyone a major freebie. I don't want time-wasters coming out of the woodwork like that."

Chumley and Massha exchanged knowing glances.

"Our lips are sealed," Chumley assured me.

"Good," I responded, settling deeper into the upholstery. "After all, I've got a reputation to protect. That's the one thing you can't buy in any mall."