Adventures Of Myhr Part 6

I went with him. The street theater scene over, the crowd went on with business as usual. I hoped they'd bring some of it to Clem's. Before I could make an announcement to that effect, Terrin hauled me into an herbalist, and bang went what was left of my tips.

"You sure you need this stuff?" I asked, paying out. As ever, it was a painful experience. "I know you have a stash in your pack."

"That's my own personal recreational weed;this has to do with my magic. It's always better to use local organics for spell work. The energy connection to the ley lines is stronger than if I bring in something alien." "Oh." Tech stuff again. Boring. "I gotta get back to Clem's. It'll be time for the lunch crowd soon."

"Great, take this with you." He foisted his candle and bag of herbs onto me.

"Where will you be?"

He shrugged. "Walking around. I need to feel out the lines, see where the power points are . . ."

"Get laid." I wondered how he spelled the "ley" in ley lines.

"That, too. I saw a place where-"

"Thanks, spare me the details." Terrin could spot a s.e.x business through solid walls, and in all our travels I'd never once seen him pay for services rendered. Girls just seemed towant to give it to him. He never used magic, either. Some guys are born lucky. I didn't begrudge him, though. If he didn't get laid fairly often he tended to implode. I hated that.

"An' there was something about the big drunk, too," he added.

"What kind of something?"

"When I did the whammy number on him, it took a lot more energy than it should."

"Maybe he was just resistant 'cause of the booze."

"I don't think so. There must be some heavy-duty vibes going on here, only I'm not feeling them, and I should."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It could be. I've never run up against anything like it before, so I don't know what it means. A deserted astral plane, that fog river, and me being this kind of tired from doing a simple restraining whammy."

"Maybe it's jet-lag."

He snorted, more to himself than toward me. "I'll see ya later. I gotta go get some energy."

s.e.x tended to charge him up again. It did the same for me, but in a different way, since I wasn't into the magical side of stuff. Terrin said he fed on all levels, whatever that meant. I never asked for an explanation, filing it in my Too Much Information cabinet. He went off in one direction and I another, heading back to the inn.

Greta gave me a wave h.e.l.lo, reminding me it was time to get started. The place was a little spa.r.s.e for lunch customers yet, just two soldier-type guys in a corner. One was pa.s.sed out on the table, and the other seemed fast asleep with his eyes wide open. He wore a really awful purple-and-green uniform that clashed badly with his blond hair.

I stopped upstairs long enough to drop off Terrin's stuff and get ready for the lunch show. Over my white pirate-style s.h.i.+rt I pulled on a dapper vest to dress things up. Then I stood just outside the front door and did my warm-up act. Like I said, my face is my fortune. It was enough to gather a street crowd just to stare at me, but the key is to make them see past my face to the talent beneath. Having been blessed with a decent singing voice, this wasn't a tough job, and I rounded it all out with the jokes, muggings, and double-takes whenever a pretty girl came in view. They ate it up. I duly invited everyone for second helpings over their noontime meal.

I brought in enough takers to draw a smile from Clem, who was helping behind the bar while Greta and their various kids dished out the food. My stomach growled expectantly, but it would just have to wait until the show was over. I never ate beforehand; it's too embarra.s.sing to interrupt a perfectly good song with a badly timed burp.

This did happen, though. I was about to launch into "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"-my signature piece, it never fails to please a crowd-when the guy in the purple and green cut loose with a monumental belch.

I'm talking the kind that shakes the rafters and it happened just as I opened my mouth. Well, there's no following that sort of thing until the audience settles down. They were laughing too hard. In an attempt to win them back I announced a belching contest. It seemed the perfect thing for this group.

"What's the prize?" someone demanded.

"Prize? You expect aprize ?" I didn't have to pretend shock.

"Aye, 's only right. You 'ave a contest, y' should 'ave a prize!"

d.a.m.n. I was faced with a situation I'd not thought all the way through. Thankfully, Clem saved me from having to volunteer my tips.

"The prize is a free flagon of beer," he called out.

I shot him a grateful thumbs-up for the rescue. He grinned back and proceeded to sell beer to a dozen eager contestants. He'd more than make back the money for the freebie.

Playing emcee to the full, I got things going. The contest grew louder by the minute, and smellier. I figured out quick which end of the room was upwind from the belchers and stood there for the duration.

By the time it had devolved down to the last two, the soldier guys in the corner seemed to have woken up fully and were giving me what I'd always thought of as "the hairy eyeball." I wondered if there was some kind of permit required for what I was doing. Clem hadn't mentioned anything about it.

"Okay, last and final round," I bellowed. "Rick the Roaring Bear against Werdel the Wondergut!"

Rick and Werdel drained off their flagons of fuel and after a moment to let the fizz build in their expanding bellies, each had a turn cutting loose. The rafters not only shook, but a quant.i.ty of dust sifted down. They both sounded the same to me, but I'd left the judging to the audience. The cheers were loudest for Werdel. He accepted his free flagon with good grace, took a swig, then generously pa.s.sed the rest of it to Rick.

"Gotta see a man about a dog," he announced, looking all tense as he sprinted for the back door.

I offered a few choice lines wis.h.i.+ng him additional success, then finished out the act by pa.s.sing a hat and singing "Show Me the Way to Go Home," after first reminding the audience that the song was for me, not them. I'd put in a good hour and a half and needed a break. Clem was well pleased. "That's triple the business I usually get for beer this time of day. We'll do the same tomorrow if my stocks hold out."

"Glad to have been of service." Maybe I should have felt guilty contributing to the area's population of alcoholics, but didn't. I had a nice chunk of change left over after Clem took his cut. Not enough to buy gems, but maybe I'd at least go check on their prices. The sooner I left the sooner the locals could get back to normal drinking habits, right?

Just as I slipped the coins into my pocket, the purple-and-green-cloaked soldier guy came up. His blue eyes were somewhat red-rimmed and dull. "My friend here wants a word with you."

His friend wasn't here, but still at their table. "Is something wrong?" I'd traveled enough to develop a certain respect for people in uniforms. It's great when they're your chums. Not so great otherwise.

"He jus' wan's a word with you."

There'd be no information forthcoming from this one. Maybe he wanted me for their version of a USO show. Feeling safe enough, I went along to the table. The guy there was stocky and balding; what remained of his dark hair was combed straight back. He wore what I'd come to recognize as civilian clothes, but he was definitely some kind of military. With practice, you can just tell.

"Captain Shankey of House Darmo," he said about himself, like I would know the name. I thought I did, too.

"Hi, I'm Myhr."

"Hah?"

"Myhr-rhymes with 'purr.' A nice play on the cat angle, don't you think?" I flared my lip whiskers in a way I hoped would be taken as a friendly expression.

He squinted. "That's not a mask, is it?"

"Just my own wonderful face." I spoke slow so he'd catch everything. His breath was very beery. "Was there something I can help you with?"

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Just got in yesterday. Is there a problem?"

Shankey straightened a bit. "My Lady Filima Botello Darmo requires that you come to her house."

From my chat in the apothecary shop I belatedly recognized the name of one of the city's main clans. I couldn't recall if they were Fortune 500 rich, though. "Oh, yeah? Did she say why?"

"She doesn't have to say why."

Uh-oh. Types like that make me nervous. "Look, I never met her or anything, so how is it she even knows me? I appreciate the invitation and all, but-" "I'll put it this way," he said, lurching to his feet to come around the table, looking more sober by the second. He and his friend had me bracketed. "You're coming with me. If my lady wants to see you, then shewill see you. Understand?"

Before making a run for it I weighed a lot of factors, like both of them having knives, swords, authority, and stuff like that. Bolting seemed more trouble than it was worth. Maybe this Filima dame had seen me doing PR work and just wanted a closer look. I hoped she'd be more reasonable than this guy. He seemed a friendly sort except when his dark eyes went hard. They were like chips of onyx now.

"I understand, but-"

They each grabbed one of my arms.

"Oh, Mr. Myhr!" called Greta from behind the bar as I was dragged past, backwards. "What's this about?"

"These guys want me to see Lady Fillerup Bordello, I think. Tell Terrin what happened or I might be a little late getting back." If I evergot back.

"I don't hold with arrests in my place," Clem p.r.o.nounced solemnly.

"Nyuhh," said Captain Shankey, lifting me, I presume, to spare my shoe leather.

"Yuhhh," added his blond buddy in the bad clothes, also lifting.

My feet were inches clear of the ground. They hauled a.s.s toward the front door.

"Say," I chirped optimistically, legs swinging, "will there be any money for me in this gig?"

Chapter Four.

One Long Walk Later, at Darmo House Ilove how the other half lives. You just can't beat it.

Lady Filima's mansion definitely put her on the side that has the really good stuff in life. It was bigger than any other building I'd seen in Rumpock and cleaner, too, made of smooth, whitewashed stone, looking like an art-deco wedding cake. Once past the wrought iron gates, we had a quick stroll up a paved, garden-flanked drive to a set of huge doors with gold- leaf trim. It impressed the h.e.l.l out of me-in an intimidating kind of way. People with this kind of money and power could be dangerous.

Shankey and his friend cut over to a smaller side door on the left. I didn't rate the main entrance, but at least the goon squad had stopped carrying me. A dozen feet from Clem's they'd stopped the come-along routine, allowed me to face forward, then we'd walked more or less normally if you call being arm-braced by two humorless guys normal. Neither of them answered my questions or loosened their grip. Cozy. Shankey gave a yell and some kid within opened things up. We trooped into a dim hall. The kid gaped at me as he shut the door. Shankey told him to take off, then turned to his partner.

"Debreban, it was great for you to help like this, but you should keep out of sight. I don't want to have to explain you. Her nibs can get touchy seeing those colors."

"Then I'll lose them," said the blond fellow. He let go of my arm long enough to shrug clear of his garish cloak and throw it on a table.

"She might recognize you anyway."

"Doubt it. She's never noticed me before. Come on, Shank, I gotta see this through to the delivery. My lord will skin me if I don't have something to report."

"But maybe my lady won't want him knowing what's going on."

"She'll get her way then, 'cause neither ofus knows what's going on."

"Count me in, too," I said. They glared, apparently having forgotten my presence. "Listen, guys, let's just go see this lady and get it over with. My guess is she won't be looking at either of you once I'm in the room. You can hang back and play fly on the wall, theneveryone will know what's going on."

Shankey opened his mouth as though to object, then clammed up. "Okay, why not?"

I relaxed a little, rea.s.sured by his show of common sense. "Cool. Now where do I freshen up?"

"Freshen up?"

"If I'm going to meet a lady I want to look my best. You got a place where I can brush off the dust?"

Debreban s.h.i.+fted on his feet. "Sounds like a good idea. I'm feeling a little pressure, myself. All that beer . . ."

"Now that you mention it . . ." began Shankey. He finished by leading the way to an indoor facility that was down a flight of stairs in a stuffy bas.e.m.e.nt chamber. The flat, low-browed windows, shoulder-height here, ground level outside, were for ventilation only. No way for me to squeeze through any of them.

Along one wall was a long bench, with dividers between the holes: a three-seater with no waiting.

"This wasn't what I had in mind," I stated. There wasn't a mirror in sight where I could check the lay of my mane. I was still in performing clothes, so hopefully their flas.h.i.+ness would make up for shortages in my grooming.

Shankey and Debreban were too busy imitating Niagara Falls-Americanand Canadian sides-to pay attention to me. I waited them out. Afterward, they looked a lot less tense. We went upstairs again.

"Now what?" I asked Shankey.

"Now you shut up and speak when spoken to. Show respect."

Well, he didn't make any friends with me for that answer. He sent someone ahead, then we all marchedupstairs to the more refined areas of the joint.

The house looked like a movie set for a Cecil B. DeMille epic, but on areally big budget. I gaped a lot, admired paintings and sculptures, and fiercely wondered what the h.e.l.l I was doing here.

Our hike ended before a set of elegantly tall double doors, painted royal blue. Their detailed trim sported enough gold leaf to give me and Terrin room and board at Clem's for the next year or so, no singing for my supper necessary.

The great doors silently swung wide just before we reached them. I looked for hidden wires, but spied only a couple of page boys in matching blue tunics. Like the kid below, they stared at me. I smiled back.

Anything to brighten someone's day.

A mournful-faced man in black and silver emerged, stopped, and made like one of the pages. I smiled at him, too, my lips together. The fangs tend to alarm neos.

The doors wafted shut again, blocking any glimpse of the next room.

"Good afternoon, Lord Perdle," said Shankey, with a slight bow.

Perdle recovered fairly fast. "h.e.l.lo, Captain. Erm . . . who is this person, if I may ask?"

Shankey hesitated, then made a quick introduction, but I doubt if Perdle heard any of it. I gave a little bow as well, but could tell by his eyes he thought I was some kind of performing nutcase in a mask. It seemed best to preserve that illusion, so I kept my smile fixed in place.

"Friend of Lady Filima, what?" He spoke to Shankey, not me.

"I think so, your lords.h.i.+p."