Robert Asprin - Class Dis-Mythed

"I don't have any expectations," I said, surprised. Then I stopped. That wasn't quite true. "Yes, I have been watching you."

"Permission to ask why, sir?"

I decided to lay my cards on the table. "Massha's ring. I have been thinking you blew it up."

"Why, sir? You said that the perpetrator apologized to you, and that the matter was settled."

"Not exactly," I said. "All five of the other students came forward and said they had set it off. You were the only one who didn't."

"But I didn't blow up the ring, sir," Bee said, sounding puzzled. "Why would I confess if I didn't do it?"

I was taken aback. Why indeed? Why had the others been so quick to assume responsibility? I had to think about that. I believed Bee's protestation of innocence. I felt ashamed of myself for my assumption.

"You're right," I said. "I wouldn't expect you to take the blame for something you didn't do. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I suspected you. No, you're doing fine. I don't want you to leave, unless you're unhappy."

"Oh, no, sir," Bee said. "This is the best thing that ever happened to me since I was born, except for meeting Sergeant Swatter and Nunzio."

"Everything's okay," I assured him. "You're doing fine. I'm proud of the progress you're making."

Bee stood up straighter, if such a thing was possible. "Thank you, sir!"

He spun on his heel and marched back into the inn.

I stayed out for a while longer with Gleep and the stars.

"You're pinned to the wall," Markie taunted Pologne. The Pervect clung to the wall behind her, quailing from the tiny figure at her feet. Markie advanced on her, hands curled into claws. "You have no options left. I'm coming for you, and I'm packing serious magikal heat. What are you going to do?"

"Do I have my purse?" Pologne asked.

Markie dropped out of her threatening pose, which, when a being stands less than three feet tall and has a head full of soft golden curls, was not threatening in any traditional sense.

"If you normally carry your purse everywhere, then, yes, you have your purse."

"Good," Pologne said. She reached into the capacious handbag, whipped out a shiny silver four-foot-long gun and leveled it. I pulled Bunny down to the floor. The rest of my students hit the dirt. Markie walked up to the Pervect and knocked the barrel toward the ceiling. She aimed a finger at the Pervect's nose.

"Never, and I mean never, point that at anyone you don't plan to shoot. And never whip out a weapon like that unless you are planning to use it."

"Oh, but I would," Pologne said. But she sounded doubtful. She caressed the barrel. Studded with blue gemstones, it looked like it was made of solid platinum. Since I never carry anything larger than a pocket knife, I had no idea what the bulges and protrusions meant. I guessed that neither did Pologne.

Markie seemed to have the same impression. She planted her tiny hands on her hips. "Have you ever shot that thing?"

Pologne looked horrified.

"No, it would mess up the finish. Isn't it pretty? Daddy gave it to me as a graduation present."

Markie sighed. "Then leave it at home. Hasn't Skeeve ever told you that hesitation just hands a weapon to your enemy?"

"Well, he has, but we don't have any enemies!"

Markie raised an eyebrow. "The universe is full of danger, sweet pea. What happens when you move into your first sixth-floor walkup, and a drunken jerk who lives on four staggers over to you in the laundry room?"

"Why, I would never be in any place like that!"

"All right," Markie said. "That's good."

"That is?"

"Yes. You wouldn't be in a situation like that because you have planned ahead. You would have checked out the entrances and exits, and kept your eye on the door, right?"

"No," Pologne said. "I mean, I wouldn't live in a sixth-floor walkup because no elevator means it's a dump. Right?"

Markie groaned. "Think of it in more general terms. You can apply those rules to any situation. You already know what you think of as an acceptable scenario. Let's dissect the state of mind which led you not to be in that apartment in the first place. You want a place to live. You assess where you need to be, what geographical points you need to be near. Add in your personal level of risk, balance that against your cash in hand, tolerance of noise and other nuisances, and so on. That will kick out a list of things you can avoid while still leaving the field open for the greatest number of viable choices, including some you might not have considered at the outset. When you leave out the undesirable factors, only your personal prejudices and preconceived notions would prevent you from seeing all the possibilities."

"Ah," Jinetta said. "When you break down the analysis in those terms, we understand it."

Markie whistled. "Finally! Do you see? The idea is not to leave yourself without options in any situation. Choosing an apartment is a scenario you can take at your own pace. Now, let's move up to one where you don't have as much time to make a decision. That's what I was trying to get you to do. Assess the situation with a cool head, and move quickly in response. You know the old saying, 'he who hesitates is lost'?" The students nodded. "That statement is true most of the time. It only means life and death once in a while. It can be simpler than that. If there is, say, only one item of value to be had, or one opportunity to be taken, and you have a rival for either, then allowing your rival to move first is essentially letting him or her choose the battleground. Make the first approach, and you will win. Most of the time."

"Like when there's only one slice of pizza left," Melvine said flippantly.

Markie looked impatient at her nephew's interruption, but she nodded. "Define a contest on your terms. I assume most of you, like Pologne, have some kind of protection, magikal or otherwise?"

"Of course!" Tolk exclaimed.

"Keep it as a last resort. Magik and weapons are limited options. Your brain is your most valuable and reusable commodity. Don't waste your resources or your allies. You might need them later."

"Allies?" Freezia asked. "Skeeve is always hammering away about allies. He doesn't much say how to do it on your own."

"That's because it's a lot harder to get by on your own," Markie said. "I work alone. I get paid top dollar for my services because I deal in a difficult field with considerable expertise, entirely as a solo act. It would be a lot easier if I had allies, but in my job they are not only hard to find, but a liability."

"Just what IS it you do?" Jinetta asked, curiously. "Kill people?"

"Hardly ever. Never mind what I do; I'm telling you how I think. If I'm echoing anything Skeeve says, then maybe you should listen to both of us. Otherwise, what are you wasting my time for?"

"I hope we're not wasting your time, Miss Markie," Bee said politely. "I see a thread running through the lessons. But when I go home, I'm gonna be working by myself as a village magician. I've got to know the best choices to make, because I'm gonna have to make 'em without help."

"Take the big picture. What is going to help me live to a ripe, old, healthy, stinking rich age?' Try not to tell me you're not thinking in that direction, because everyone except saints do, and saints are a very small proportion of the population, in my experience. You want the best possible outcome for the long run. Then refine it all the way down to the small picture, to that action you need to take at that moment in order to get to the big picture. Sound hard?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It gets easier and faster to make those decisions after a while, once you've refined your priorities. And just because you choose those priorities doesn't mean you can't change them." She glanced up at me, almost shyly. "I have."