Robert Asprin - Class Dis-Mythed

I held the bag out to her. "Here they are. I'll have to come up with a better magik lock that only you and I can open."

Bunny took the money from me, and shot a distasteful look around at the apprentices. I knew what she was thinking. She was still convinced that there was something fishy going on.

"I don't like this," I told them. "Playing little jokes on one another is one thing, but I won't put up with outright crime. Someone stole that money from our strongbox."

"Someone set me up," Jinetta insisted furiously.

"I don't know that," I said. "Either someone set you up, or you want me to believe that someone did. I even bet it's pointless for me to do a trace spell. I'm sure whoever put the money here covered his or her tracks. But I'll tell you here and now that if I catch anyone doing anything dishonest like that again, you're out of here. Got that?"

"Yes, Skeeve," they chorused glumly.

"All right," I said. "Back to work."

No one moved. Their eyes darted from face to face, probably trying to figure out, as I was, who had sneaked the bag into Jinetta's briefcase, or if she had done it herself.

"Come on," I said sarcastically. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"

"Hey, hey, hey, are you an audience or an illumination?" a hearty woman's voice asked. "Why so silent?"

Massha floated into the courtyard. She appeared to be carried on the shoulders of four young and good-looking courtiers dressed in Queen Hemlock's personal livery, until she sailed on beyond their grasp and settled to the ground on the toes of a pair of pointy orange silk slippers.

"Massha!" I went to greet her, and received one of her patent bone-crushing hugs. Bunny came over, too, and gave as good as she got.

"What's the silent treatment for?" she asked, looking at the group, who were now intently studying their feet.

"A misunderstanding," I said, passing it over casually. "Welcome! Do you want to freshen up before you start your lecture?" "No way, Hot Shot! It was a relaxing jaunt. Wasn't it, boys?"

"Yes, Lady Magician," they chorused.

Massha elbowed me. "I'm trying to get them to sing it in harmony, but Marco there in the left back corner is tone deaf. So, how's it been going? I see Bee's still standing." The young corporal blushed crimson and kicked the dirt. Massha grinned.

I grinned back. "Let's all have a drink, and we'll give you the short version."

"Well, you're still in one piece," Massha said, setting down her empty mug on the little table beside the heap of cushions that her attendants laid out for her to lounge upon in Bunny's sitting room. Gleep was curled next to her feet, his long neck resting contentedly along a spare lump of cushion. "So that's what really happened! A troubador from the town came to Possiltum and sang a song about the Great Skeeve defeating a beast by turning its lightning back on it."

"Not exactly," I said modestly, toying with my wine glass. "I just appealed to its self-interest."

"Most powerful force in the universe, after love," she agreed. "Hemlock was impressed. She'll laugh herself silly when she hears the real story." She surveyed my students, who sat around the cosy room on chairs or the floor. "And you all sound like you're making Master Skeeve proud. Old Massha was his first student, and look where she ended up? Happily ever after!"

"Thanks for the plug," I said. "I really can't take credit for where you've gotten. That was all you. I think you're doing a better job than I ever did."

"Don't sell yourself short, Superstar! You brought out the best in me."

"I thought Hugh did that," I said innocently. Massha blushed as bright as her lipstick. I turned to my class to give her a moment to recover. "All right, individual exercises are over for the day. At the beginning I promised you guest lecturers. This will make a welcome change of pace. I think we could all use one. The Lady Magician of Possiltum has come all the way from the royal court to demonstrate something in which she has more expertise than anyone I have ever met, including most Deveels: gadget magik."

"You bet. Quintin!" she called, clapping her hands. One of the muscular, liveried courtiers ran in and knelt at her feet, presenting an enormous bag that clanked as it moved. She chuckled. "Don't you just love it when they hustle?"

"Adorable," Bunny agreed, waggling a couple of fingers at the page. "Hi-ya." She winked at him. The page blushed to the roots of his long pale hair.

Massha whipped out a heavy silk cloth and left it floating in the air while she sorted through the clunking collection and laid several items out. "Here are a few of my favorites, stuff that's gotten me out of a couple of nasty situations, and a few that are just plain useful."

"Oh, come on, I've been playing with things like those since I was two," Pologne complained, flipping a couple of pieces over with her talon. "There's a wince whistle. Makes the noise from barking dogs rebound on them. And that's a stuff-sack, for getting more things into your purse."

Massha shrugged. "This is gonna be old hat for a few of you, honey, but I just love toys. Oh, here's a good one!"

She drew out a heavily jeweled gold wand. "This one's good for changing ambience. Short range, but this room's a good size. No verbal invocation, just point and shoot." She stuck a finger in her ear and aimed the wand at the ceiling.

A loud report momentarily deafened us, followed by whistles and toots. Over our heads, flower-shaped gouts of fire erupted, filling the ceiling then drifting down over us. Where the cooling sparks passed, the room shifted before our eyes. The whitewash warmed to a honey color. Framed pictures shimmered into being, along with lamps, vases, occasional tables and knicknacks, and finally a fringed rug of complicated pattern spread itself on the floor.

"I like it," Bunny said with an approving nod. "That makes the room much more cosy now. Skeeve and I just haven't really taken the time to redecorate."

"Freaky!" Melvine hooted. "Instead of looking like a dreary old pub, now it looks like my granny's house!"

"I think it's nice," Bunny said, sounding hurt.

"Yeah, right," the Cupy said. He picked up the wand. "How do you make it do something about five hundred years more modern?"

"Turn the dial," Massha said, pointing to a ring near the base of the wand.

Melvine shot the wand toward the crystal lamp in the middle of the ceiling. BANG! Within moments, the walls were stark white again. Tapestry upholstery had changed to russet or stone-colored leather, and the wooden tables had become chrome frames with glass tops. All of the fussy ornaments had vanished, and the pictures on the walls turned to abstracts. Massha's freeform cushions assumed geometric shapes. "Much better. The other stuff made me gag."

"Oh, geometries are so downmarket," Jinetta said.

"Hey, you don't know a thing about design," Melvine shot back.

"And you do?"

"What do you think?" Massha asked Bunny. "It's your house."

"I like this, too. My tastes are pretty eclectic. You can leave it like this. If I get bored with it, I'll redecorate. What else have you got there?"

Massha spread her hands generously. "Take a look, kids. Try them on for size, but don't invoke anything until you check with the proprietor first. A lot of these gizmos look alike! I don't want any accidents, and I'm sure Skeeve doesn't want the place brought down on his head."

Bee picked up a gaudy ring with a blue stone and fiddled with it. "What's this one do, ma'am?"

Alarmed, Massha plucked it out of his fingers. "Don't point that at yourself, Honeybunch. Joke ring. It fills the mouth of the person you're facing with soap suds. I think it started out as a punishment device for smart-mouthed kids. Be careful.