Adventures Of Myhr Part 8

"Aw, you're just waiting for someone to talk you into them again."

"Maybe so, but with all this-" She shrugged as though to take in the enormous house. "I have to keep within the dignity of my station."

"That's too bad. Everyone needs to get out, cut loose, and boogie through the night."

"Oh, we have parties. It's not the same, but better than nothing."

"Yeah, I've been hearing about some summer fest that's coming up. Could you tell me about it?"

"It's a big celebration, singing and dancing in the streets, games and contests of skill, horse racing."

"Sounds like a blast. Need any entertainers?"

She smiled. "Perhaps." "Paid entertainers?"

"Perhaps. I've just been placed in charge of planning it out."

"Coo-ool. Maybe you could find a spot for me. I'm really great at Master of Ceremony work."

"A place might be made available." She'd stopped being sincere, turning to coy. I don't like coy unless it's sincere.

"What do I have to do to get it?"

"Tell me about the h.e.l.l-river."

I put down my fork. My plate was empty anyway. Someone whisked it away and a wine server topped off my goblet. Another server slipped some kind of elaborate dessert in front of me that smelled of brandy. I sensed a conspiracy. "I'd really love to help you, but I don't know anything about it. What I saw was huge, black, and spooky as h.e.l.l. Last night it tried to ooze into my room at Clem's inn and I stampeded downstairs yelling the house awake. But when Clem and his wife looked outside they didn't see any mist. That was freaking weird."

"Yes, many folk are not magically sensitive, so they don't see most of what's around them. You're different from them, obviously."

"I guess so."

"Please." She leaned forward, so casual that she was intense. "Please tell me about yourself, then."

Wow. A beautiful woman who feeds me and wants me to talk about myself. What are the odds? And was she any good at belly-rubs?

"Well," I began, then out of nowhere started singing to the tune of a hillbilly sitcom song.

Lemme tell you a story 'bout a cat named Myhr A poor patterman with really soft fur; He travels around with a dude named Terrin And their poverty thing really is wearin'.

(Cashless they are, ain't it a shame?

Donate, please!)

I did NOT know wherethat had come from. Maybe the wine was working on me after all.

Well, Myhr sings and jokes and Terrin gets laid They have lots of fun but rarely get paid; They're aheadin' home when the stars are right In the meanwhile, remember their plight(Pockets empty, thumbing rides. Donate, please!)

Filima, with her sagging jaw, had obviously expected something along the lines of where I'd been born-which I didn't know, having been too young at the time-and other dull stuff like that.

But why should I tell my whole life story to strangers? This wasn't a bank loan application.

Elsewhere, at Overduke Anton's Palace "She was a bit surprised at first, of course, but after expressing to her your complete confidence that she was indeed the very best choice, Lady Filima at last accepted the honor of putting together the festival."

Anton lifted a long hand an inch from the arm of his chair, halting the flow of Perdle's droning voice. The man tended to turn even the simplest of reports into epic drama. "That's good. See to it she has whatever she needs to organize things."

"Yes, my lord. There is quite a lot in the palace archives she will no doubt find extremely useful."

"People, too. She'll want an outside staff that knows what it's doing. Find those who have worked on the festival before and make sure they're sent 'round to her."

"Excellent suggestion, my lord."

A pretty d.a.m.n obvious one, thought Anton.

"Lord Cadmus must still be presenting his suit to her, I think."

Anton s.h.i.+fted, restless. His throne was very comfortable, but he'd been in it far too long and wanted to stretch his long legs, maybe look in on Velma to see what she was doing and if she'd like some company for it. But Perdle had made a leading comment that wanted a response. "Why do you think that?"

"Captain Debreban of his guard was at Darmo House. I couldn't tell if he had a message in hand. Said he was visiting his friend Captain Shankey. He didn't appear too comfortable, but I suspect I sometimes intimidate a few of the lower echelons. You know how it is, my lord."

Perdle couldn't intimidate so much as a rabbit, but it would have been impolite to say so. "Yes, I know,"

Anton said agreeably. "The burdens of rank and all that." He should have a word with Cadmus about Filima. The idiot would have better luck with her by backing off for a month or so, allowing her a decent interval for mourning. Anyway, she'd be busy with the planning work.

"I think perhaps her ladys.h.i.+p might have had an inkling of your festival proposal before I ever arrived to deliver it, though." Perdle shuffled his papers, tucking them under one arm, ready to bow himself away.

How could Filima have an inkling? Anton hadn't thought of giving her the job until that morning. Unless she'd been scrying on him. Not likely. The palace's s.h.i.+elding spells had been in place for decades and still worked just fine. Besides, everyone knew Filima got awful headaches whenever she tried magic. "How so?" he asked casually. Perdle sounded pleased. "Because she already had some sort of circus performer on the premises, though there's no circus in town. A rather odd-looking fellow."

Anton gave a mental shrug. "Probably an old crony from her oochie-coochie days."

"He was most amusing, yet didn't say a word. I suppose he couldn't with that mask on. It was quite a charming bit of work. Very realistic rendition of a cat's face it was. Thought it was a sort of man-cat creature at first. Took me back a step when I clapped eyes on-"

"A cat's face?" Anton's heart sped up, but he was careful to keep his voice normal.

"Yes, my lord. If he is one of her entertainer friends we must have him perform here while he's still in town. The mask alone is well worth seeing, though what he does besides I could not venture to guess. An acrobat or an actor, perhaps?"

Anton managed not to twitch. Crystal sharp, the nightmare vision returned to his mind's eye. Something with a cat's face and a human body pus.h.i.+ng him into the h.e.l.l-river. With that idiot Cadmus helping.

Cadmus was no worry, but this other creature . . . Anton took his visions seriously, because too many of the bad ones tended to come true in a very literal sense. He had hoped this new one would only prove to be symbolic. In vain. Dammit.

"What news have you on the h.e.l.l-river?" he asked.

Perdle gave an apologetic cough. "Forgive me, my lord. I'd quite forgot about that report. Very puzzling business it is, too. It didn't behave in its usual manner last night."

There wasnothing usual about the d.a.m.ned thing. Anton wished Perdle would realize that. "Go on."

"One of the Talents on watch noticed a section of it flowing up the side of an inn near the bell tower.

Someone had a window open on an upper floor there and was looking out. That might have attracted the river's notice. The tenant closed the shutter and the river hovered outside for a goodly while, then subsided. It's happened before. No one was hurt. But very strangely the river vanished away from the streets shortly after, hours ahead of its usual time at dawn."

"Who was in the room?"

"I don't know, my lord, but can find out."

"Do so."

"At once."

"Yes, my lord."

"And write out some sort of informal invitation to send to Lord Cadmus. Ask if he's free to come 'round for dinner tonight. I think Velma would enjoy the diversion." Unless required by the demands of his office, Anton preferred just the two of them alone at dinner. It had been especially true since the coming of the fog. With his curfew in place guests had to stay overnight and he disliked imposing on people.

Perhapsthey were flattered by the invitation, but there was the risk it might go to their heads. b.l.o.o.d.y politics. Ah, well, this was as good a time as any to give Cadmus that talking-to about Filima. Velmawould put in a few words herself. Perhaps some of it might sink in.

"At once, my lord."

"And Perds?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Have someone keep an eye on Filima's house. When that fellow in the cat mask comes out, ask him over. I'd like a look at him."

"Oh,yes , your lords.h.i.+p." Perdle seemed pleased. "I'm sure you'll find the workmans.h.i.+p most amusing."

Gooseflesh crept along Anton's arms. He was anything but amused.

In the Streets Near Clem's Place Terrin poked his nose into yet another herbalist shop, but sensed nothing of magical note. At least it wasn't full of wannabe wizards, tree huggers, and kids in black trying to scare their Bible Belter parents with pentacles and over-dyed hair. Dallas had been full of those, but so long as their checks and credit cards cleared he never minded them coming into his shop. Besides, he'd put plenty of wards up to keep out the real riff-raff, seen and unseen.

No shortage of Talents back home, but this world was a freak show for having none at all. His nape hair had been on end from the first moment. The exact cause of his unease still eluded him, but he had a p.i.s.sy feeling he was on the right track for it.

In search of others of his kind he'd asked around Rumpock, carefully phrasing his questions so only insiders would understand. Sometimes he'd get a deep enough conversation going to openly ask about magic. People here were fairly comfortable about it; they'd heard of Talents, but no one knew where to point him. Some gestured vaguely toward the east side of town, saying that some of the t.i.tled types "did that sort of thing," but they couldn't recall who. It was like trying to track down an urban legend; everyone had a story, but no real source to name.

The empty astral plane bugged him, too. Deeply. It was just too d.a.m.n fricking weird, like those movies where New York City's deserted because someone had dropped the bomb. He wanted to find a local wizard to tell him what was going on. If that was normal for this world, then okay-fine, but if not, then he wanted out. A-s-a-p. Sooner, if possible.

But none were to be found. Usually he couldn't help but sniff out another Talent. In fact, they tended to trip over each other. But here, nothing.

He did find a few mysteriously closed shops that gave him the creeps. He'd pa.s.s by their sealed doors and shuttered windows and feel a strange tugging, but it vanished when he drew near. Touching the buildings to pick up leftover vibes didn't work. All he felt was brick or plaster; any latent emotional signature of the previous tenants just wasn't there. That wasvery wrong, particularly for the olderstructures. Nearly everything was capable of absorbing that kind of energy and holding it for a time, like a scent lingering on still air. In this burg it was like a great wind had swept through and swept away all the magic.

And oh, lordy, was hetired . The two nimble girls he'd spent some athletic afternoon hours with had cheered him a lot, but not powered him up as much as he'd expected. They'd all parted company on buoyant terms, and though he felt a little better for the psychic feeding and physical exercise, he should have been bursting with energy, not dragging around like a sloth on downers.

It seemed to get worse by the minute. Better get back to the inn for a nap, then pow-wow with Myhr about speeding up their departure from this dump.

Maybe I'm going through techno withdrawal.

Terrindid miss the warehouse raves down in Deep Ellum. Nothing like the deafening blast of electronic music thrumming through his body with crowds of kids mashed together, jumping and weaving to the hyper-beat like one gigantic animal, throwing off more energy than even he could pull into himself. He wanted a big dose of that right now, just to crawl back up to feeling low-end normal again.

Terrin hadn't been this bad since his gall bladder had done a meltdown a few years back. The docs had had to suck it out with medical vacuum hoses because it had liquefied. Too bad. He'd wanted it in a jar as a souvenir. The painkillers had been fun, though. He could use a few right now for a little flying.

Nothing specific hurt, but being knocked out for a day or so might draw his strength back. Taking that street bruiser on hadn't helped; not the physical part, but the magic. Gawd, he was drained. . . .

Free a.s.sociation of memory made something click in his head.

Mirror. He wanted a mirror.

On this tech level the only place that might have one would be a shop selling women's clothing. Not a Walmart or Rodeo Drive chain store in sight.

He found a likely prospect, walking through the open door like he owned the place, sketching a wave at the startled proprietress. Was she staring because this was a chicks-only place or was there another reason? A framed mirror stood on her front table where she could keep an eye on it. Not large, and kind of warped, but valuable enough. Vanity and thieves were universal, he'd found in his travels.

The shop was nearly too dark for him to properly see himself. He angled the gla.s.s to reflect outside light onto his face and got agood look.

Oh. s.h.i.+t.

Chapter Five.

Back at Darmo House Man, was I full. All that food. I'd lost count of my seconds, thirds, and fourths and had to loosen my top pants b.u.t.ton. Good thing I wouldn't be singing for some hours yet. No way could I take a deep breath now. If Filima offered me a wafer-thin after-dinner mint, things would get Monty Python messy.

Our conversation throughout the meal had gone rather well, considering that when it came to the h.e.l.l-river we had wildly opposite views. She was positive I could help her, and I was positive I couldn't, not unless she came up with a lot more background that I could give to Terrin. And money. Despite the lyrics of my improv song, she'd missed their message and hadn't once mentioned money.

That black velvet pavilion had begun to nag at me, too. I asked her about it, but she just shrugged and said it was a "retiring place." What the h.e.l.l did that mean? Was it an upper-cla.s.s toilet?

Heh. No way.

Just because I'm not interested in magic doesn't mean I can't sense it. That curtain-shrouded question mark was definitely a hot-spot. Not a big one, but enough to make my muzzle whiskers twitch. It was the first whiff of real magic I'd detected since we got here. I'd have to tell Terrin. He'd be all over it like a cheap suit.

"Lemme make sure I got this straight," I was saying to Filima. "One night a couple weeks back this h.e.l.l-river just appeared?"

"Yes."

"And no one can say what it is or where it comes from?"

"You know that to be true."