robert asprin - myth-taken identity

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."

"I suppose we could have lost the scent at some other point, what?" Chumley suggested wearily, as we sat slumped against the entrance to Massha's Secret.

Massha had dropped off long ago, snoring in musical tones. Eskina had been game as they come, rechecking all the points we had gone over, in case Rattila had doubled back at any point and disappeared into a wall or something. She had nodded off, too, curled up against Massha's side. Cire lay on his back, out to the wide, domed belly upward, his flipperlike hands flat out at his sides. Par had had to go back to the barracks to check over the graveyard shift and maybe get a few winks. I couldn't get comfortable on the shiny floor, but my pride wouldn't let me give up and go back to the hotel.

"We missed something," I acknowledged, going through the memory of the night before. "Where? What?"

"I say, don't berate yourself, Aahz," Chumley offered sympathetically. "If Rattila is so emboldened as to venture out, into our very environs, it means that he thinks he is becoming stronger, or that we are vulnerable." My keen ears picked up the rustle of footsteps. I looked around. They seemed to be coming from everywhere. They became louder, multiplied. I sprang to my feet and braced myself.

Suddenly, the owners of the feet hove into view: the shopkeepers and clerks returning to The Mall.

"Good morning, Aahz!" The Faery owner of Adorable Tchotchkes threw a smile our way as she waved a wand and disenchanted the night lock.

The big pink-and-blue doors flew wide, and tinkly music poured out of the store. Others called out greetings to us as they opened for the day.

"False alarm," I grunted, sitting down again.

"Aren't you opening up today?" asked Pitta, the Impish owner of Pitta's Petite Pitas, the food shop two down from ours.

"Huh?"

Pitta blushed pinkly. "I want to get a garter to surprise my boyfriend."

"Oh," I replied, feeling a little stupid. I had been concentrating so hard on how we failed to track Rattila that it slipped my mind that we had a perfectly good trap already armed and set. "Yeah. Of course, we're opening up."

I nudged everyone awake.

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Get your claws off it! It's mine!"

A three-way brawl in the middle of the shop between two Deveels and a Dragonet didn't faze the shoppers bumping one another to get to the wall displays. In The Mall it was just business as usual. I kept a close eye on Cire to make sure he didn't let any more "false positives" go by.

"They all look nice," Eskina insisted impatiently to an Imper female who stood in front of a mirror unable to make up her mind among half a dozen garters she was modeling on each leg. "It doesn't matter which one you choose."

"Well, I don't know ..." the Imp dithered.

Eskina reached out and pulled out a loop of black lace and yellow ribbon roses, and let it snap back against the Imp's pink thigh. "Take that one. Don't argue."

I sighed. It wasn't worth it, trying to turn a lifetime, hardbitten investigator into a tactful and patient salesperson.

To my surprise, the Imp beamed with gratitude. "Oh, thank you! Yes, that's the one I like best!" She peeled off the others and put them back.

Eskina turned away with a smirk.

Marco Djinnelli floated in. "Everything looks so wonderful!" he exclaimed, gesturing at the decorations. "All of the little touches ... you have good taste, Aahz."

"Not just me," I grunted, though I was pleased. "My team likes to get down to those little details."

The Djinn beamed effusively. "And you have made them. Er—as we agreed, half my payment today, please?"