"But it did!" the scrawny don protested. "I felt it."

"A little subsonic vibration, courtesy of Massha's magik," I said, with a bow to her. "Nothing too difficult for a member of M.Y.T.H. Inc., which is why Don Bruce employs us to watch out for his interests in the Bazaar at Deva."

The Fairy Godfather turned as purple as his suit. He spun in the air to face the cowering don. "You wanted me to lose face in front of my valued associates? Surleone, Guido, Nunzio, please escort our former employee back to the Bazaar. Ill be along shortly." The meaty mafioso took deDondon by the arm and flicked a D-hopper out of his pocket. In a twinkling, they were gone.

Don Bruce hovered over to take Massha's hand. "I offer my sincere apologies if anything that I or my people have done to mar your wedding day in even the slightest way. I'll send someone with the counterspell to pack the house up again. I hope you and your husband have a long and happy life together. You made a beautiful bride." In a flutter of violet wings, he was gone, too.

"I'm glad that's over," I said, draining the rest of the ale. "Take that silly dragon back to the stables, and let's keep the party rolling."

Gleep's ears drooped.

"Now, Aahz," Massha said, "you owe him an apology. If it wasn't for Gleep. the palace would have been blown sky high."

The dragon rolled huge blue eyes at me. I fought with my inner self, but at last I had to admit she was right.

"I'm sorry, Gleep," I told him. "You were a hero."

"Gleep!" the dragon exclaimed happily. His long tongue darted out and slimed my face. I jumped back, swearing.

"And no one tells Skeeve what happened here tonight!" I insisted. "None of it! Not a word!" "Who, me?" Massha asked, innocently, as Badaxe wandered in out of the shadows, in search of his wife. She sauntered over and attached herself to his arm with a fluid langour that would have been a credit to Tanda. "In a few minutes I'll be on my honeymoon. Nighty-night, Aahz."

MYTH-ADVENTURERS

By Robert Asprin

"I'm sorry, Pookie. I just don't get it. Maybe I'm slow."

"Don't apologize, dear," her companion said. "It doesn't go with being a lady. And as far as being slow ... well, little sister, trust me. You needn't have any worries on that score."

Even a casual observer would realize in an instant that the two women weren't really sisters. One was a human female, a Klahd, actually, with a short unruly head of hair framing her fierce expression. The female on the opposite side of the table had obviously emerged from an entirely different gene pool. Instead of pink skin, she was covered with the green scales, offset by pointed ears and yellow eyes, that marked her to any experienced dimension traveler as a Pervert... or Pervect if they knew what was good for them. Still, they both had that lithe, athletic, graceful look that put one in mind of a pair of lionesses discussing a kill. Different genotypes or not, it was clear they had more in common with each other than with many of their own species.

If their builds and manner weren't enough of a giveaway, their outfits completed the picture. The Pervect, Pookie, was wearing one of her favorite action leather jumpsuits with multiple zippers, which both insured a skin-tight fit and held the tools of her trade. The Klahd, Spyder, was still working on her look, but today had settled for calf-high boots with fishnet stockings, a dark plaid mini-skirt, and a sleeveless black leather halter top, which left considerable portions of her midriff bare. All in all, she looked like a parochial schoolgirl gone Goth gone biker slut What united their outfits were the accessories, which was to say, the weapons. Throwing stars and knife hilts jutted from their sleeves and belts, along with various mysterious instruments a viewer hoped they would never see close enough to examine carefully.

The fact that this mismatched duo and their weaponry went practically unnoticed was an indication of the normal atmosphere and clientele of the tavern they were ensconced in.

"If I'm not slow, then why is it taking me so long to figure out this whole adventurer thing?" Spyder countered.

"Well, not to make too big a thing of it," Pookie said, "for one thing you're still young. I've been at this game for a couple centuries ... we'll not dwell on exactly how many ... and you've only been at it for a few months. It takes awhile to get the hang of anything new. Just be patient and listen to your big sister."

"I guess it's just not what I was expecting is all," Spyder said, almost to herself.

"Really?" her green companion said. "Maybe we've been going at this backward. This time, why don't you explain to me what it was you thought adventuring involved."

"I don't know. I was thinking we'd be doing bodyguard work or something."

Pookie heaved a sigh. "We've gone over this before, Little Sister. First of all, we don't have the manpower to do real bodyguard work. To do the job right, it takes at least a six-person team to guard someone around the clock. You keep forgetting that we'd have to sleep sometime."

"But Guido and Nunzio guard Skeeve as a two-man team," Spyder insisted stubbornly.

"From what I understand, they were assigned to Skeeve by Don Bruce primarily as an honor guard," Pookie said. "Besides, there are a lot more people on the team watching over Skeeve than just Guido and Nunzio."

"But ..."

"And even if we were to hire on as a token-show force, believe me, you wouldn't like it," Pookie continued. "Remember, we're female, and like it or not that influences the people who hire us. Believe me, the kind of swell-headed, self-centered celebrity types who hire female body guards are primarily looking for arm candy. The pay might look good, but they're not really people you want to hang around for any length of time. Usually, by the end of the job, you're ready to kill them yourself."

"So what is it exactly that adventurers do?" Spyder said.

Her green companion took a long swallow from her flagon. "If you scrape away the bardic lyrics and all the escapist literature romantics, what it all boils down to is that basically adventurers are either thieves or killers ... or both."

Spyder leaned back and blinked. "How's that again?"

"Look at it close." Pookie shrugged. "If you're going after a treasure or artifact, it means you're taking it away from someone who thinks it's theirs ... even if they stole it themselves originally. That's stealing. Even if you're unearthing or rediscovering a long-lost item, by law it belongs to whoever's property it is that you're on at the time. If you don't hand it over and maybe settle for a reward, if you try to smuggle it out without admitting you've found anything, that's still stealing.

"On the other hand, there's the 'slay the monster/bandit who is terrorizing the neighborhood,' or the traditional 'rescue the princess/damsel from the evil whoever.' Both of those, bluntly, involve killing."

"Um ... Pookie?" Spyder said slowly. "If those are really the choices, I think I'd rather do thieving assignments if we can manage it I mean, I try to be tough and put on a good front, but I really don't think of myself as a killer."

"If you say so." Pookie shrugged. "Ill keep it in mind. Personally, I lean toward the killing side, myself. There's usually less risk involved."

"Now, I'm not saying you're wrong," Spyder said, "but Skeeve and his M.Y.T.H. Inc. crew don't seem to fit with what you're saying."

"Don't forget that crew is pretty much top-of-the-heap right now," Pookie said. "As near as I can tell, it's taken them over ten years to work their way up into the position they're in, where people come to them with work. I'll bet you, though, if you look closely at some of their early work, it involved things that wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny. For example, I know for a fact that Tananda was primarily an assassin before she hooked up with Skeeve. And as for Aahz ... I probably shouldn't speak ill of my own cousin, but he's always been one of the family's black sheep. If anything, I was surprised to find out he was involved in something that was even vaguely legitimate."