Chumley came back from the bar with a tray of drinks and lowered his big furry posterior into an armchair.

"Okay, talk," he uttered tersely in my direction.

We had known each other a long time. The two-word sentence meant that he had spoken to the bartender and intimated that we didn't want to be disturbed by anyone. If we wanted more drinks, we'd come and get them.

I turned to our visitor, who was sipping carefully at a Mango Lassie.

"So, you say you're an investigator. What are you doing here?"

Ignoring the disapproving Parvattani, she reached into the thick fur on the front of her torso and slid a small object across the table to me.

"My badge. I am field agent for Ratislavan Intelligence. I know who you are. If you are sensible, we can help each other."

"How?"

Eskina leaned forward conspiratorially.

"I have been on the tail of a small-time wanna-be wizard named Rattila. He stole an experimental philosophical device from the Ratislavan Research Workshops."

It was a new name to me, but Massha nodded.

"I've got a few things from them." she said. "Very nice work, and dependable, too. Very upscale presentation. They work mostly in precious metals." "True," Eskina agreed. "This is a solid gold artifact I seek. It is very distinctive, but, alas, very small. I have asked these fools to help me"—she threw a scornful hand toward Par—"but they sneer."

"She is making it all up," Parvattani insisted.

"And you would know, how? You never listen to me!"

I was growing tired of their bickering.

"Ain't love grand?" I inquired of Massha and Chumley.

"All right!" Eskina said, embarrassed. "Here is what I know. Perhaps after I tell you, we can work together."

"How do you know what we're here for?" I asked, suspiciously. "For all you know we're looking for shoes for this lady."

Eskina waved a hand.

"I have been following you all day. I heard what you told Mr. Moa and what you asked the shopkeepers. Unless you are fibbing to everyone, then our purposes lie together."

"Go on," I offered, intrigued.

She was an observant character, if nothing else. I wish half the people I ran into had that going for them.

"This device, it is a magikal amplifier of great power. Ratislava is proud of its accomplishments in both magik and science. Our alchemists were working on it to enhance spells and other great workings in places where there are few lines of force, such as our own dimension. We know we are capable of more, but our native talent in manipulating magik is limited. We hope to accomplish greater things. We know we are capable. Only the means escapes us. The grand chief wizard, who, if you will forgive me, is not much in the enchantment department but is a great talker, believes that this will be the big breakthrough that will enable Ratislava to evolve a few real magicians. At present only prototypes of the device exist. It doesn't work for everyone; the basic potential must be there. This was the most powerful. Our leaders had great hopes for it. And then it disappeared."

"Do you know who took it?" I asked.

"Who could it be but Rattila?" Eskina countered, spreading her tiny pawlike hands out before us. "One of your potential wizards?" Massha inquired, cocking a professional eye.

Eskina spat.

"Cats, no! He worked as a cleaner in the building. A menial. He is not very intelligent, I am afraid, but very ambitious. When he and the device disappeared at the same time, we investigated. No trace of him could be found, so it was assumed he employed the latent power in the device to flee the dimension. His mother was surprised. She said he was always such a quiet loner."

"Uh-huh," I acknowledged. "Those are the ones you have to watch."

"Yes." Eskina sighed. "Now we wish that we had. But how many eyes can we keep on the janitorial staff? Must we never hire quiet loners? Eh? For a job where one pushes a broom or uses a cleansing spell to clear the air of ecto-plasmic matter late at night when no one is there, must we employ a jocular and outgoing individual? I would think that would create much more trouble than taking chances upon employees who do well alone."

"Don't look at me," I said. "I only deal with rampant individualist self-starters. The others get complacent and lazy and never solve a problem on their own."

Eskina nodded. "I see we understand one another."

"This has nothing to do with our thieves," Parvattani grumbled.

"Far from it," Eskina corrected, but speaking directly to me. "My assignment is to get the device and return it to the alchemists' lab. Misused, it will transform the one who invokes it in such a way that he is no longer a natural being but a creature of energy."

"So? It sounds like the problem will solve itself."

"Eventually! It is a very long process. In the meantime, the problem is that it gleans its energy from a chosen source. It is designed to tap into force lines. That is no trouble; those are nonsentient and eternally replenished."

I held up a hand. "I see where this is going. You think this Rattila is drawing his power from living beings." "I feel certain of this," Eskina insisted. She poked a sharp finger into Parvattani's fancy tunic. "You have seen the husks yourself, the sad ones who shuffle around. They have no minds, no will of their own. They go forward with no memory of who they are or what they are doing there. They are the remains of normal shoppers who have been drained by the talent device."

"That's bad," Massha declared, horrified.

"How? How does the object gather power from those people?" I demanded.

I remembered the people she was talking about. I winced, picturing Skeeve meandering around like a mechanical windup toy.

"Through the Law of Contagion, direct contact, or contact with something that once touched the target. It is more difficult with force lines, which is why this is still a prototype. Making a physical connection with a force line is still in the theoretical stages. But living beings, though their potential is much less, are very easy to reach out and touch. It takes draining many to accomplish what would be quite swift and harmless if the device could be used in the manner it was intended."

"What's this got to do with the shapechangers who impersonate honest shoppers?" Par asked, pugnaciously.

"Everything! That must be an intermediate stage, manifested by the device. Taking action in the form of a targeted being strengthens a connection. Hence the purchases—affirmation of his tastes, his wealth. The longer that another person pretends to an identity, the more readily it is stripped away from the person to whom it belonged in the first place. Because this device is only an experimental one, we do not know precisely how Rattila manages to transfer the energy from one person to another. This is where your friend is in the most danger: Rattila seeks especially those who have magikal talent."

Parvattani seemed to be wrestling with a thought. It finally made its way out of his mouth.

"Tell her," he spat out. "What?"

"I can't reveal information that came to me in an official capacity. You must. Tell her what you saw at The Volcano."

I did. Eskina's round brown eyes grew rounder as I gave her all the details I could remember about the shapechang-er with the deck of cards by the clothes rack.

"But this must be related! The device, too, is in the shape of a card. The eventual and irreversible mindlessness will happen to Skeeve unless Aahz can stop it. Rattila wants to collect enough power to transform himself into the greatest magician in the universe, using a device obtained from a wizard he ripped off many years ago."

"I refuse to let Skeeve get shopped to death," I said, darkly.

My companions agreed heartily.

"What do we do first?" Massha asked.