Robert Asprin: M.Y.T.H.-Interpretations: The Worlds of Robert Asprin

He was raising some fascinating points, points which I’ll freely admit had escaped my notice. While I had devoted a certain portion of my intellect to deciphering the intricacies of human conduct, there was much in the subtleties of their intra-species relationships which elude me…particularly when it came to individuals other than Skeeve. Reflecting on Nunzio’s words, I realized that my pet had not been to see me much lately, which was in itself a break in pattern. Usually he would make time to visit, talking to me about the problems he had been facing and the self-doubts he felt. I wondered if his increased absences were an offshoot of the phenomenon Nunzio was describing. It was food for thought, sand something I promised myself I would consider carefully at a later point. Right now, there were more immediate matters demanding my attention…like the people burrowing in under the floor.

It seemed that, in the final analysis, Nunzio was as inept as most humans when it came to guard duty. They make a big show of alertness and caution when they come on duty, but within a matter of hours they are working harder at dealing with their boredom than watching whatever it is they’re supposed to be guarding. To be honest, the fact that dragons have longer lives may explain part of why we are so much better at staving off boredom. After a few hundred years, days, even weeks shrink to where they have no real time value at all. Even our very young have an attention span that lasts for months…sometimes years.

Whatever the reason, Nunzio continued to ramble on about his concerns with the status quo, apparently oblivious to the scratching and digging sounds that were making their way closer to our position. This time it wasn’t simply my better hearing, for the noise was easily within the human range, though admittedly soft. By using my hearing, I could listen in on the conversations of the diggers.

“How much farther?”

“Sshhh! About ten feet more.”

“Don’t ‘sshhh’ me! Nobody can hear us.”

“I can hear you! This tunnel isn’t that big, ya know.”

“What are you gong to do with your share of the money after we steal the stuff?”

“First we gotta steal it. Then I’ll worry about what to do with my share.”

That was the part I had been waiting to hear. There had always been the chance they were simply sewer diggers or escaping convicts or something equally non-threatening to our situation. As it was, though, they were fair game.

Rising from where I had been sitting, I moved quietly to where they were digging.

“…unless Don Bruce wants to…Hey! Where are you goin’? Get back here!”

I ignored Nunzio’s shouting and listened again. On target. I estimated about four feet down. With a mental smirk, I began jumping up and down, landing as heavily as I could.

“What are you doin’? Stop that! Hey, Gleep!”

The noise Nunzio was making was trivial compared to what was being said four feet down. When I mentioned earlier that I was too heavy for Nunzio to move unassisted, I was not meaning to imply that he was weak. The simple poundage of a dragon is a factor to be reckoned with even if it’s dead, and if it’s alive and thinking, you have real problems. I felt the floor giving way and hopped clear, relishing the sounds of muffled screams below.

“Jeez. Now look what you’ve done! You broke the floor!”

Again I had expected no thanks and received none. This did not concern me, as at the moment I was more interested in assessing the damage, or lack of damage, I had inflicted on this latest round of potential thieves.

The floor, or a portion of it, now sagged about a foot lower, leading me to conclude that either the tunnel below had not been very high, or that it had only partially collapsed. Either way, there were no more sounds emanating from that direction, which meant the thieves were either dead or had retreated empty-handed. Having accomplished my objective of removing yet another threat to the shipment, I set my mind once again on more important things. Turning a deaf ear to Nunzio’s ravings, I flopped down ad pretended to sleep while I indulged in a bit of leisurely analysis.

Perhaps Nunzio was right. It was possible that my pet was reacting adversely to the change in his status from free-lance operator to the head of a corporation, much the same as tropical fish will suffer if the pH of the water in their aquarium is changed too suddenly. I was very much aware that an organism’s environment consisted of much more than their physical surroundings…social atmosphere, for example, often influenced a human’s well-being. If that were the case, then it behooved me to do something about it.

Exactly how I was to make the necessary adjustments would be a problem. Whenever possible, I tried to allow my pet free will. That is, I liked to give him the illusion of choosing his own course and associates without interference from me. Occasionally I would stray from this stance, such as when they brought that horrible Markie creature into our home, but for the most part it was an unshakeable policy. This meant that if I indeed decided that it was time to winnow out or remove any or all of Skeeve’s current associates for his own good, it would have to be done in a manner which could not be traced to me. This would not only preserve the illusion that I was not interfering in his life, but also save him the angst which would be generated if he realized I was responsible for the elimination of one or more of his friends. Yes, this would require considerable thought and consideration.

“Here, fella. Want a treat?”

This last was uttered by a sleazy-looking Deveel as he held out a hand with a lump of some unidentifiable substance in it.

I realized with a guilty start that I had overindulged, sinking too far into my thoughts to maintain awareness of my surroundings. After the unkind thoughts I had entertained about Nunzio’s attention span, this was an inexcusable lapse on my part. Ignoring the offered gift, I raised my head and cast about desperately to reassess the situation.

There were three of them: the one currently addressing me, and two others who were talking to Nunzio.

“I dunno,” the latter was saying. “I didn’t get any instructions about anyone pickin’ up the shipment early.”

Something was definitely amiss. From his words and manner, even Nunzio was suspicious…which meant the plot had to be pretty transparent.

“C’mon boy. Take the treat.”

The Deveel facing me was starting to sound a little desperate, but I continued ignoring him and his offering. It was drugged, of course. Just because humans can’t smell a wide range of chemicals, they assume that no one else can either. This one was no problem. I was more concerned as to whether or not Nunzio would require assistance.

“I can’t help it if your paperwork is fouled up,” the smaller Deveel with Nunzio snarled, with a good imitation of impatience. “I’ve got a schedule to keep. Look. Here’s a copy of my authorization.”

As Nunzio bent to look at the paper the Deveel was holding, the one standing behind him produced a club and swung it at his head. There was a sharp “CRACK”…but it was from the club breaking, not from Nunzio’s head, that latter being, as I have noted, exceptionally dense.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you have the shipment,” Nunzio said, handing the paper back to the short Deveel who took it without losing the astounded expression from his face. “This authorization is nothin’ but a blank piece of paper.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the larger Deveel who was standing there staring at his broken club.

“Be with you in a second, fella. Just as soon as we get this authorization thing cleared up.”

I decided that he would be able to handle things in his own peculiar way and turned my attention to the Deveel with the drugged treat.