"Oops." I said, holding my hands up to my shoulders. "Sorry."

Glory and the other two were by now far ahead. A hundred yards. Eighty. Sixty. The castle courtiers were lined up on the battlements yelling encouragement to their princess. Forty. Twenty. She was going to make it. I was afraid to breathe.

Suddenly, Alf, the Deveel, threw a handful of powder into Bosheer's face.

"Ten points off!" Carisweather boomed. And, mysteriously (my fingers were crossed), the cloud of dust rolled back into Alf s face, never touching the Prince. Alf went into a coughing and sneezing fit, and fell off his 'hippus.

Ten yards to go. Five. Two. One. Glory's foot was almost on the planks of the drawbridge, when Bosheer's strong arm scooped her up and deposited her onto the withers of his steed.

"Got you, ray lady!" he yelled.

The cheers of the courtiers faded away. Glory looked upset for a moment. Then she looked up into the face of her captor, and grinned.

"Congratulations, my lord." she breathed. The two of them exchanged glances that left the princess's cheeks even more pink than before. Bosheer's face turned red, and he smiled. Zing! I thought. The cheers redoubled.

We judges wheeled around the couple on the drawbridge, compared notes, then Carisweather floated a dozen yards up into the air to make an announcement.

"My lords and ladies! I have the honor to announce the winner of today's hunt Prince Bosheer! And here comes his majesty to award him his most desirable prize!"

Over the last rise came the king, followed by Aahz, followed by the 'hippuses carrying the litter with the chest on it. I blinked. The chest was not on it. Instead, it contained a bemused-looking Djinn, and nothing else. Aahz's face was grim. His eyes met mine. The chest had been stolen. In spite of all our precautions, we'd failed.

The king rode over, and though she didn't look in any hurry to get down, helped his daughter dismount from Bosheer's saddle. The king shook hands with the prince, then held up his hands for silence.

"We wish to give thanks to our servants and friends, and especially to our new friend Aahz, who came to our assistance a few moments ago," he said, indicating me with a hand. "I'm sorry to say that the prize we'd originally intended to grant this most gracious winner has been foully robbed from our person." Bosheer looked crestfallen. Henryarthurjon slapped him on the back. "We apologize most heartily to Prince Bosheer. It would seem that crime may touch even the highest in the land. But this brave and puissant man will not go without a reward. Instead, I shall give him from among my many treasures ..."

Gloriannamarjolie pushed forward, her hand hooked through Bosheer's arm. "... his daughter's hand in marriage!"

"What?" asked her father, then noticed the solid grip Glory had on the Whelf. "Oh. Jolly good. Yes. My daughter's hand in marriage."

The crowd cheered. Glory and Bosheer looked radiantly happy.

Massha settled down near me where I stood at the edge of the crowd with my arms crossed. "Well, all's well that ends well, I guess. I saw sparks shooting between those two even before the race started. I knew he was Mr. Right"

"He's satisfied," I said, nodding at the prince. "He got something he liked better than a safe."

"But what happened to the safe?" she asked. "You were following the king. How'd someone manage to rob him with you so close?" I scowled No one likes to fail, even if it was in a good cause. Her face softened. She felt sorry for me.

"I didn't see a thing," I said, impassively. "It had to have happened when he went into that thick clump of woods on the other side of the hill."

"Well, did you notice any footprints? Can you tell which way the thieves went?" she demanded.

"Massha," I said, with infinite patience. "I came here to do you a favor. I blew it I apologize. You deserve better, but I'm done. No one is paying me to track down a missing treasure chest."

"Sorry, Big Guy," Massha said. "I'm actually happier the way things came out."

"Me, too," I agreed. Nunzio and Gleep came up to join us. He and I exchanged comradely nods. Gleep leaped up, aiming for my face with his tongue. I pushed him away. "Let's go in. I bet they're pouring a toast to the happy couple. I could use a drink."

"So could I, Hot Stuff," Massha said, tucking her hand into my arm. "So could I."

M.Y.T.H. INC. PROCEEDS

By Jody Lynn Nye

The Klahd with the pinstriped suit coat stretched tight over his massive shoulders accepted the cup of tea offered to him by Bunny. Guido declined cream or sugar, as his habit, which I knew well, dictated. His cousin, Nunzio, not quite so muscular but more affable, accepted both. The fact that both were of a mind to take tea in the sitting room of our renovated inn when they were clearly rushed by other concerns told me how deep those concerns were. I settled myself at their feet to eavesdrop openly upon the proceedings.

"Much obliged," Guido said, taking a deep draught— less, I believed, to assuage thirst than to get the courtesies out of the way. He was never one for a cup of tea where coffee or ale were also on the menu, and he knew both were to hand. Bunny, who knew his mores, seemed to be using his acceptance of the ritual as a test to find out how desperate the Mob enforcers were to obtain the help of my pet. Bunny was nearly as protective as I of Skeeve's studies. The ruffled white pinafore that the red-haired female wore over her tight, green dress was a concession to her attempt to play hostess as well as guardian, but it did not conceal her voluptuous figure any more successfully than her mannered hospitality hid her annoyance and worry. Guido turned to the lanky, blond-haired male reclining in the chair to his right.

"Like I was sayin', Skeeve ..."

"Cookie?" Bunny asked, handing around a plate of tiny, pink-sugared dainties. Guido obediently reached for one.

In my long study of the lesser species, the ability to juggle a container of hot liquid, a plate of delicate comestibles, and a difficult conversation was the mark of a being with its wits about it Guido passed the test. Nunzio went him one better. When the plate came to him, he selected two of the sweet biscuits, one for himself, and one that he held out on his palm for me. In deference to my pet's affection for this creature, as well as my taste for the sweets, I scooped the cookie off the hand with my tongue. Nunzio reached out to ruffle my ears.

"Attaboy," he said, in his high-pitched tenor. "What a good dragon!"

"Thank you for your consideration," I attempted to say, but my immature vocal chords emitted only a sound: "Gleep!"

"You shouldn't be spoiling his appetite," Bunny said, reproachfully.

"Nunzio couldn't spoil that dragon's appetite if he fed him the whole plate and his right arm," Guido said. "Miss Bunny, we respectfully request that you relax. We are not here to ask the Boss to set foot out of his self-imposed exile. All we want is his advice."

Bunny eyed him with the suspicion of one who had heard such assurances before. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Guido said, suiting his motions to the former part of his pledge, no mean feat while holding a delicate porcelain cup in one's fingers. "If I take the Boss farther than a trot outside to walk the dragon, then you may spit me with the rotisserie fork you have so thoughtfully concealed behind the door."

"Well, all right," she said, subsiding.

"Good," Guido said. "Then, perhaps you will sit down and pour yourself a cup of your most excellent tea, and listen to us."

Bunny sank into the chair at the end of the low table with a just audible sigh of relief.

I was reassured, too. Guido, for all that he was a Klahd. had a nearly dragonish sense of honor, not to be sneered at considering many of the others with whom he associated on a regular basis; I do not include the days spent in the company of my pet, naturally. Skeeve had good instincts regarding the qualities of those whom he called his friends. Klahds, like many pets, function almost entirely on instinct. We of higher species can only hope that they will evolve in the next million years or so until they have a greater grasp of reason and logic. But superior as he was to his fellows, Skeeve was still inclined to turn away from his own interests and assist his friends, no matter how pressing the need for his own work. In a being as short-lived as a Klahd. I objected to him wasting that precious time.