robert asprin - myth-taken identity

"Right here," Chumley gestured, pointing to a body on the floor. It didn't look like Skeeve. It was small, hairy, and terrified.

"What is it?" I asked distastefully.

Chumley picked his foot up off its neck. The skinny creature, which would be up to my hip if I let it stand up, lay panting on the floor. It had a short, light brown pelt everywhere on its body except its tail, which was naked, and its head, where the fur was longer, blonder, and teased into a pompadour. Strapped to its skinny back was a pack like a book bag. Parvattani's men quickly wound the beast up in a coil of lightning, which I'd taught them to use only that morning, and confiscated the tote.

"It's-a a mall-rat," Par explained, a sneer on his otherwise pleasant face.

"A species indigenous to confined shopping spaces on Flibber," Eskina explained. "They are very greedy and like to steal. It makes sense that Rattila would employ one so close in type to his own species. But they are not very intelligent. It would be difficult to teach them to do what the other shapechangers are doing. Perhaps he is the only one of his kind in Rattila's employ."

"And who are you calling stupeed?" the mall-rat complained.

"Not you," Eskina acknowledged. "You can't be too stupid, anyhow."

"Thanks for nothing, madame," the rat grumbled, hunkering down in a heap between us.

Parvattani stood on its tail. The guards went through the backpack. Inside was nothing but a pile of cards.

"Those are just like the ones I saw the Pervect gal using," I insisted.

"What are these?" Par demanded, waving one under our captive's nose.

"I have no idea," the mall-rat said, a blank look on his face. "Rath-air pretty, eh?" "Where did you get them? How do they work?"

"J'ne parle Flibber, monsieur."

"He is stupid." Eskina sighed.

"No, he's not," I contradicted her. I shoved my face into the rat's. "He's smart enough to know that I'm going to start ripping his limbs off one at a time if he doesn't start cooperating!"

"Hey, cool down, cool down, Green-skinned Dude!" the rat protested, scrambling to put some distance between his face and mine. He looked plaintively from Par to Chumley to me. "They are my cards, monsieur. Give them back, s'il vous plait? I will get in real trouble without zem."

"You have-a been causing a lot of trouble with them," Parvattani asserted, triumphantly. "Mr. Aahz, will you do the honors?"

"Wait a minute," I cautioned him, holding up a hand. "Let's make sure we're dealing with the real thing. Massha, is this the guy that we followed the other day?"

Massha hoisted her magik-detector amulet out from among the cluster of jewels hanging on her massive chest and waved it over our captive. "Yup."

"So," I deduced, "one of these cards is the one that lets him turn into Skeeve."

Massha shrugged. "That'd be my guess, but magik items are tricky. Unless he shows us how he did it, it's just a surmise."

"Which one is it? The tall Klahd with blond hair?"

I turned to the mall-rat, who stuck his long nose into the air. "Not a chance, monsieur. I do not do requests."

"Left arm first, or right?" I asked, casually. The mall-rat's eyes widened into twin blue pools of alarm.

"Hein, I did not say I wouldn't help out at all!"

"Good." I spread out the pack of cards in his face. "How do they work?"

The rat looked blank again. "You just—how you say?— I mean, I just hold it. You say the words. And then it works."

"That's real descriptive," I gritted, menacingly. "Sounds pretty straightforward, Aahz," Massha soothed me. "You just invoke the card the way you'd invoke an amulet. What do you think, Eskina?"

The Ratislavan investigator nodded avidly. "It was meant to be easy to use."

"Aahz?" The rat's face brightened. "Yeah, I know you. I mean, the card does."

"Shut up!" I roared. I hated it that this piece of vermin might know anything about my ex-partner's inner thoughts. "Can anyone use these things, Massha, or are they keyed to him?"

Massha frowned. "I wish the Boss was here."

"Well, he's not," I snapped, probably sharper than I should have. "You're the real gadget mechanic, not him. This is your field of expertise. Think!" Massha looked a little surprised, but she got with the program.

"My guess is no," she offered, a little uncertainly. "If what Eskina said is true, that they work by the Law of Contagion, then they're generic."

"Do you have to be a magician to invoke it?"

"Doubt it," Massha stated.

"Good." I turned to the mall-rat. If furry creatures could sweat, he would have been soaking. "What are the words?"

"Oh, monsieur, I cannot say!"

"Sure you can," I insisted. "Say it, or you're going to have to eat oatmeal for the rest of your life."

The mall-rat's eyes widened with horror. "Oh, monsieur, you would not!"

I showed him all my teeth. "Try me."

The mall-rat muttered something low.

"Louder," I insisted.

"One Card to rule The Mall, One Card to Charge It, One Card to cruise The Mall, and in the darkness Lodge It."

I stared at him. "That's stupid."

The mall-rat shrugged. "The magician is not necessairily the poet."

"You can say that again." I picked up the first card, a square of orange, and nodded to Massha. 'Tell me what happens."

"Aahz, no!"

I invoked it.

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!"