robert asprin - myth-taken identity

"Chlory!" I shouted. "It's me, Aahz! That's Rattila! Stop him!"

I peeked around the corner to see if she heard me. She heard me, all right: a bolt of bright green light shot toward me. I ducked back as the magik came close enough to sizzle a few of the scales on my cheek. I glanced again. Chloridia marched toward us, a blank look in her eyes.

"Rattila has her in his power," Eskina hissed.

"Well, she's not as strong as I am," Cire insisted. He stood up and flung a double flipperful of golden light in her direction.

The four-eyed enchantress chanted a brief phrase, and the light dissipated. She leveled her hands at us, and the packing crate blew into pieces. Rubber Kewpie dolls went flying in every direction. We backed off. Chloridia advanced on us, with Rattila behind her, cackling.

"Take that!" Cire announced. A pit opened up at Chloridia's feet. She simply stepped out onto the empty air. "Uh-oh. Run."

We ran.

"Quick," Cire demanded, as the swinging doors swished shut behind us. "What are her weaknesses? What can I exploit?"

"Nothing," I spat out, after searching my memory. "She's a consummate professional. She teaches magik at the Kallian academy in the off-season from her daily show."

"Fishguts!" Cire swore.

We headed into the nearly empty midway. Behind us the basilisk's scaled belly hissed on the tiled floor. I couldn't hear Chloridia's footsteps at all.

That was because she had taken to the air. As we rounded the corner into the food court, she alighted in front of us, her four purple eyes as blank as poker chips.

"Chlory, snap out of it!" I ordered. "You're under a spell! Listen to me!"

A sneer twisted her lovely face as she waved an arm. The entire display of pies in a pastry-shop window came flying at us.

I dove for cover behind a caramel-corn wagon, pursued by a plank of lemon meringue pies. They all splatted harm- lessly on the glass, showering me with blobs of filling. Cire yelped as a pot of soup dumped itself on his head.

"Ugh! I hate licorice!" Eskina wrestled with strands of black and red looping around her like whips. They knotted themselves, pinioning her arms to her body. She attacked them with her sharp little teeth.

"Chlory, it's mind control!" I called. "Think! I know you're in there somewhere!"

Chloridia's arms waved again, and more display windows burst outward, their contents flying to do her bidding.

"Aahz, look out!" Cire shouted.

He dove toward me just as a roasted chicken on a skewer arrowed toward my heart. He jumped in the way. The skewer missed me, but it went partly through Cire's arm. I dragged him into the doorway of the chicken shop and yanked it out.

"Ow!" Cire protested. "That hurt as much coming out as going in."

"Sorry," I offered. "I never knew you'd take a pullet for me."

Cire's face screwed up in a pained grin. "What are friends for?"

The blinding glare of a warming light gave me an idea. I picked up the nearest heavy object, a rolling pin used for making the shop's celebrated pot pies, and put it in Cire's good hand.

"Take this. When you get the chance, use it!"

"For what?"

"Hey, Chlory!" I called, standing up. The blank eyes turned toward me, and the hand flew up to throw another spell. "The media is here! They want to interview you!" I turned the light so it shone in her face. "Look! The cameras are rolling! Come over here for your close-up!"

Somewhere, deep in the controlled mind of the enchantress, the need to seek publicity overrode Rattila's spell. She hesitated, then tottered toward me.

"That's it," I crooned. "Come on. The reporters all want to talk to you. Come right in—" Clunk!

Cire whacked her across the back of the head with his rolling pin. She sagged bonelessly to the ground.

"She's out for the count for the time being," I announced. "Now, for Rattila."

I stepped out into the hallway, just in time to see the basilisk's tail disappear around the next corner.

"He is running away! He is cowardly without his minion!" Eskina crowed, taking off after the fleeing snake.

"Well done, Cire," I remarked, grudgingly.

The Walroid smirked, clutching his wounded arm.

"So you finally forgive me for all those other times when things didn't exactly go right?" Cire asked.

"When you screwed up," I corrected him. "It's a start. Now we've got to fix your arm and snap Chlory out of her trance. Sibone!"

"I am here, darling Aahz," came the sultry voice. Sibone undulated to me and wound a couple of arms around me, while one sinuous arm extended to charm golden bubbles out of thin air. When the heady aroma of fresh coffee began to percolate down to us, Chloridia's four purple eyes fluttered open. She reached for the nearest iridescent sphere. It turned into a substantial pottery mug full of ink black liquid.

"Oooh, my head!" she moaned.

"I will take care of them," Sibone assured me, turning her lidless eyes my way. "Go!"

I took off in the direction of Eskina's energetic baying.

The sounds of battle echoed from the high ceiling when I got to Atrium K. Eskina ducked and wove between the examples of statuary that adorned this particular intersection, all the time trying to get closer to her quarry. He had changed form again. I spotted him as he dove behind a granite plinth holding the image of a gryphon rampant. He was now a Deveel, but his ears still retained the double point of a Flibberite. Something was going wrong with his magik!

"Hey, ratface!" I shouted. "I'm over here!"

Rattila turned my way and threw a chunk of energy at me. I flattened myself on the floor as it went sizzling overhead. Not sizzling, really, but fizzing. I rolled over in time to see the bolt hit a bar table at a nearby inn. It made St. Elmo's fire dance in the ribs of the umbrella, but after that it dissipated harmlessly. I thought it looked more like static electricity than lightning.

He had lost his connection to the lines of force! We had him now!

Rattila saw me get to my feet with a broad grin on my face. He must have known he was history now. Even his disguise slipped. No longer a Deveel, Dragonet, or Djinn, he was reduced once more to being a plain old black rat. Fear huge in his red eyes, he eluded Eskina one more time and started running down the hall.

"He's wearing out," I panted to Eskina, as we jogged after him.

"He must not be carrying the device," Eskina pointed out. "He must seek it again, or the new power will desert him. If he succeeds in getting to it again, he will become as powerful as he was before."

Tired as I was, that news galvanized me. I started pumping my arms to make my legs move faster. I wished Cire would catch up with us again. We could certainly use his flying ability.

"To The Volcano!" I puffed.

When we reached The Volcano it looked markedly different than it had only minutes before. All the fighting had ceased. The Djinnies and the mall-rats seemed to have been cooperating to put the merchandise back on the shelves, but now they all stood, gawking, in the direction of the entrance to the Rat Hole. Massha floated on the air toward the back of the store.

"He went thataway, Big Spender!" she called, as I thundered down the orange aisle.

"He seeks the device," Eskina explained. Massha swooped down to join us.

"He doesn't have it?" she asked, surprised.

"He's running out of gas," I stated. "We can knock him out once and for all if we can get to the device ahead of him."

"But where is it?" Massha inquired.

"Under the throne," Chumley exclaimed, an enlightened expression on his face. "He calls it the Master Card. I saw him stow it there after he had used it." The glowing aisle under my feet felt hot, as if the volcano under the floor sensed the turmoil going on above it.