robert asprin - myth-taken identity

I mimed licking the sucker as I skipped. I couldn't do anything about the sound effects of my footfalls booming on The Mall floor. I hoped the faker would miss them in the ambient noise, which would have covered the sound of a jet taking off. I didn't dare open my mouth, because there was no way he could mistake my deep, masculine voice for the pipings of a preadolescent. I felt like a moron. I had to remind myself this was for a good cause. I might be saving Skeeve's life.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the shadow stalking me. I covered a grin and slowed my hippity-hop to a shuffle just as I crossed the opening to the jungle gym.

The figure darted out and made a grab for my lollipop. His hand closed on empty air, at about the same moment my hand closed like a vise on his wrist. He gawked at me for half a second, then plunged his teeth into my wrist. The texture of my skin surprised him into staring up at me out of his big, round, blue eyes. My heart sank. What if this one was the real Skeeve under a spell? I hauled my heart up out of my boots and wrapped my other arm around his neck. We could figure that out later. The Mall guards marched in to take their prisoner.

The impostor turned into a tornado. He made as if to gouge out my eyes, then kicked for my crotch. It wasn't the oldest trick in the book, but it was on the same page. I let go of his wrist, grabbed his ankle, and picked him up over my head. I forgot how good Skeeve's reactions were. He stretched out his free hand and snatched away a stun-pike from the advancing guard. He blasted the nearest two, knocking them unconscious, then turned it on me.

I ducked my head, but not fast enough to miss the entire blast. My head rang, and I suddenly discovered I was grasping nothing.

He leapfrogged over the short Flibberites and tore into the crowd. Massha flew right behind him, zigging when he zigged and zagging when he zagged.

"Outta my way!" I bellowed.

I had to enjoy the expressions on the faces of the onlookers when they heard my voice coming out of a child's body. For the ones who didn't get the message, I elbowed them aside. The guards poured into the breach behind me.

Chumley had been a little closer to the crowd, but he moved slower than we did. I kept my eye on Massha overhead. She must have been getting closer, because her hands stretched out in front of her as if to grab something. Closer. Closer. Then she stopped, looked right and left, and arrowed back to me.

"Got a problem, big guy," she informed me.

"What do you mean, you didn't see which way he went?" Moa repeated, for the hundredth time, as hordes of shoppers filed by on every side. "You were flying right over his head!"

"Yes," Massha asserted patiently, though I could tell she was embarrassed. "I almost had him, when he vanished, right there in front of Cartok's. Two strangers ran off from that point in exactly opposite directions. I didn't know which one to follow."

"He had a confederate in the crowd," I reasoned. "Wily. I might have used a tactic like that myself."

Moa glanced at me, then shook his head as if to clear it.

"Woofle, could you—" He made some passes with his hands.

Woofle performed a gesture or two. The others looked more comfortable when he finished, but a couple of passersby nearly jumped out of their skins at my apparent transformation.

"Thank you. I prefer to talk to you face-to-face. It's very disorienting." "But effective," I pointed out. "It worked. We almost had him."

"But we didn't," Moa reminded me. "He got away clean, and we don't know any more than we did before."

"Nope," I corrected him. "We learned something very important: whoever they are, these impostors don't know what they're doing."

"Huh?" Chumley asked.

"What do you mean, Aahz?" Moa pressed. "They're just as much of a pain in the you-know-where as before. More, if we have to put up with them harassing innocent customers!"

"Nope," I corrected him. "They're less. We were wrong. We thought Rattila had employed a bunch of shapeshifters to gather power for him. I proved last night that the cards themselves make you change, not magikal talent. Those impostors, whoever they are, know how to use those cards, and they make use of some of the abilities of the people whose personalities they're stealing, like charm or strength, but nothing that doesn't rely on instinct. That's why I think they're not magicians. I'm betting none of them are. They don't know what they're doing. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to get close to the Skeeves. The kid may not be the most experienced magician in the world, but he packs one hell of a magikal punch, and he knows how to fly as well as a bunch of other things that I taught him. None of them have an instinct for magik. We're lucky. I wouldn't be surprised if they were all mall-rats, or something else of a low order of evolution."

"Notta chance—" Parvattani scoffed. Then he glanced at Eskina. "I suppose-a it's possible," he conceded.

"It is likely," Eskina exclaimed, energetically. "Those would not challenge Rattila for his power."

"So what's our next move, Green Genius?" Massha asked, looking more enthusiastic than she had before.

"We could use some more firepower, but I don't want to involve anyone else," I thought out loud. "I don't want anyone else finding out that these crooks are making a fool of Skeeve." "Woofle will help," Moa stated. Reluctantly, the financial Flibberite nodded.

I lifted a finger. "Good. That's one."

"Aahz! Hey, Aahz!"

A female voice calling my name attracted my attention. I glanced over my shoulder.

"And that's two," I added with satisfaction.

The owner of the voice bustled toward us in a rustle of green satin, Chloridia was another old friend, a major hunk of gorgeousness, who had a popular variety show on the Crystal Ball Network in her dimension, Kail.

Her four arms wound around me passionately, and she kissed the air within an inch of each of my cheeks. Her large purple eyes, all four of them, were lined in bright green shadow, and her lips were painted green to match. "Oh, Aahz, it's been so long!"

"Hey, baby," I purred, enjoying the greeting. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping!" She laughed, but the sound was brittle. I eyed her.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

She let out a tinkle of laughter. "I just had a bill collector appear at the studio, interrupting my show, and demanding the most outrageous sum!"

"No kidding," I replied, with interest. "Hey, sweetie, let me introduce you to some friends of mine. Massha, Chumley, this is Chloridia, an old friend."

"Nice to meet you," Massha greeted her, with a hearty handshake.

I had to give her credit. The old, pre-Possiltum Massha might have exhibited some signs of insecurity, but this Massha, court magician and friend of queens, acted like she saw Chloridia as an equal. I was pleased.

"Any friend of Aahz's is a friend of mine," Chloridia assured her, liking what she saw, too. "And who's this big handsome fellow?"

Chumley lowered his eyes abashedly and scuffed his toe on the ground. "Big fan," he muttered. "Really?" Chloridia exclaimed. She gave him a thorough hug, which embarrassed him all the more. "I am always happy to meet my fans! Thank you! Where do you watch my show?"

"Trollia."

"Fabulous! We're number one in our time slot across the ether in Trollia."

"This is Eskina," I added. The little Ratislavan received another air kiss. "And this is Moa."

For the first time the grand Kallian charm turned off. "We've met," she stated coldly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Credit card problems, huh?"

"Why, yes," my old friend replied, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Why in hell did you get a card?" I asked her, as we headed toward the next field of battle, a Skeeve impostor selling raffle tickets in Corridor J. I brought her up to date on what we were doing there and what had happened so far. "They're nothing but trouble."