Myth-Nomers And Im-Pervections Part 10

"This is the real me, if it matters. Now what is it?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter to me. We get folks from all sorts of strange dimensions here at the hotel. I always say, it 83.

doesn't matter where they're from, as long as their gold is ..."

"WHAT IS IT??".

I have found that my tolerance for small talk moves in a direct ratio to how long I've been awake, and today was proving to be no exception.

"Oh, sorry. There's a cabbie downstairs in the loading zone who says he's waiting for you. I thought you'd like to know."

I felt the operative word there was "waiting," but it seemed to have escaped the bellhop entirely. Still, I was awake now, and my search wasn't going to get any shorter if I just sat around my room.

"Okay. Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Sure thing. Oh . . . the other thing I wanted to ask you ... Is it okay if this guy Aahz finds out you're looking for him?"

I had to think about that for a few moments. Aahz had left without talking to me, but I didn't think he was avoiding me to a point where he'd go into hiding if he knew I was on Perv.

"That shouldn't be a problem. Why?"

"I was thinking of running an ad in the personal section of the newspaper, but then it occurred to me that he might owe you money or something, so I thought I'd better check first."

"The personal section?"

"It's a daily bulletin board the paper prints," Kalvin supplied as he joined us in mid-yawn. "Notes from people to people . . . birthday greetings, messages from wives to wayward husbands, that sort of thing. A lot of people read them faithfully."

Somehow that didn't sound like Aahz's cup of tea, but 84 there was always a chance that someone who knew him would see it and pa.s.s on the information. In any case, it couldn't hurt.

"Oh, right. The personal ads. Sorry, I'm still waking up.

Sounds like a good idea," I said, rummaging around for some loose change. "How much does it cost?"

To my surprise, the bellhop held up a restraining hand., "I'll go the cost on my own if you don't mind, Mr.

Skeeve."

"Oh?"

"Sure. That way, if it works, there won't be any doubt who gets that reward you mentioned."

With that, he flashed me a quick grin and left. It occurred to me that I should start watching my spending to be sure I'd have enough to actually pay a reward if the bellhop or one of his friends managed to locate Aahz for me.

"So what's the plan for today, Skeeve?"

Kalvin followed me into the bathroom and asked his ques- tion as I was peering at my face in the mirror. Things were getting to a point where I had to shave, but only occasionally . . . and I decided today wasn't one of those occasions. It's funny, when I was younger I used to look forward to shaving, but now that it was fast upon me I tended to see it as the nuisance it was. I began to understand why some men grew beards.

"Well, I don't think we should just sit around here waiting for Aahz to answer the bellhop's personal ad," I said. "Be- sides, it won't produce any results today, anyway. I figure we should do a little looking on our own."

As soon as I said it, I realized how simplistic that sounded.

Of course we were going to go looking for Aahz. That's what we would have done if the bellhop hadn't come up with his "personal ad" idea. If Kalvin noticed, however, he let me get away with it.

85.

"Sounds good to me. Where do we start?"

I had been giving that some thought. Unfortunately, the end result was that I was embarra.s.sed to realize how little I knew about Aahz's background ... or the background of any of my other colleagues, for that matter.

' 'The main things Aahz seems to specialize in are magik and finances. I thought we'd poke around those circles a while and see if anyone can give us a lead."

As it turned out, however, there was one small episode which delayed the start of our quest.

We had just stepped out of the doors of the hotel and were'looking around for Edvik when I noticed the street vendors. They had been there the day before when we checked in, but I had failed to really notice or comment on them. Today, however, they caught my attention, if for no other reason than their contrast to the hustlers who populated the same area at night.

The night hustlers were an intense, predatory lot who seemed willing to trade for some of your money only if they felt like they couldn't simply knock you down and take it all directly. The day people, on the other hand, seemed to be more like low-budget retailers who stood quietly behind their makes.h.i.+ft briefcase stands or blankets and smiled or made their pitches to any pa.s.sersby who chanced to pause to look at their displays. If anything, their manner was furtive rather than sinister, and they kept glancing up and down the street as if they were afraid of being observed at their trade.

"I wonder what they're watching for?" I said, almost to myself. I say almost because I forgot for the moment that Kalvin was hovering within easy hearing.

"Who? Them? They're probably watching for the police."

"The police? Why?"

86 "For the usual reason ... what they're doing is illegal."

"It is?"

I had no desire to have another run-in with the police, but I was genuinely puzzled. Maybe I was missing some- thing, but I couldn't see anything untoward about the street vendors' activities.

"I keep forgetting. You're from the Bazaar at Deva,"

the Djin laughed. "You see, Skeeve, unlike the Bazaar, most places require a license to be a street vendor. From the look of them, these poor souls can't afford one. If they could, they'd probably open a storefront instead of working the street."

"You mean this is it for them? They aren't distributing for a larger concern?"

On Deva, most of the street vendors were employees of larger businesses who picked up their wares in the morning and returned what was unsold at the end of their s.h.i.+ft. Their specific strategy was to look like a small operation so that tourists who were afraid of d.i.c.kering at a storefront or tent would buy, a.s.suming they knew more and could get better prices from a lowly street peddler. It never occurred to me that the street vendors I had been seeing really were small, one-person operations.

"That's right," Kalvin was saying. "What you see is what you get. Most of those people have their life savings tied up in ... Hey! Where are you going?"

I ignored him, stepping boldly up to one of the vendors I had noticed the day before. He was in the same spot as yesterday, squatting behind a blanket full of sungla.s.ses and cheap bracelets. What had caught my eye yesterday was that he was young, even younger than I was. Considering the longevity of Pervects, that made him very young indeed.

"See anything you like?" he said, flas.h.i.+ng an expanse 87.

of pointed teeth I would have found unnerving if I hadn't gotten used to Aahz's grins.

"Actually, I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me."

The smile disappeared.

"What are you? A reporter or something?"

"No. Just curious."

He scowled and glanced around.

"I suppose it's all right, as long as it doesn't interfere with any paying customers. Time's money, ya know."

In response, I tossed a gold coin into his blanket.

"So call me a customer who's buying some of your time.

Let me know when that's used up."

He made a quick pa.s.s with his hand and the coin disap- peared as his smile emerged from hiding.

' 'Mister, you just got my attention. Ask your questions."

"Why do you do this?"

The smile faded into a grimace.

"Because I'm independently wealthy and get my kicks sitting in the rain and running from the cops . . . why do you think? I do it for the money, same as everybody else.''

"No. I meant why do you do this for money instead of getting a job?"

He studied me for a moment with his Pervish yellow eyes, then gave a small shrug.

"All right," he said. "I'll give you a straight answer.

You don't get rich working for someone else . . . especially not at the kind of jobs I'd been qualified for. You see, I don't come from money. All my folks gave me was my name. After that I was pretty much on my own. I don't have much school to my credit, and, like I say, my family isn't connected. I can't get a good job from an old pal of my dad's. That means I'd start at the bottom . . . and 88 probably end there, too. Anyway, I gave it a good long think, and decided I wanted more out of life."

I tried to think of a tactful way of saying that this still looked pretty bottom of the barrel to me.

"... So you think this is better than working at an entry-level job for someone else?"

His head came up proudly.

"I didn't say that. I don't figure to be doing this forever.

This is just a way to raise the capital to start a bigger business. I'm risking it all on my own abilities. If it works, I get all the profits instead of a wage and I can move on to better things. What's more, if it works well enough, I've got more to pa.s.s on to my kids than my parents did. If it doesn't . . . well, I'm no worse off than when I started."

"You've got kids?"

"Who, me? No ... at least, not yet. Maybe someday.

Right now, the way things are going. I can't even afford a steady girlfriend, if you know what I mean."

Actually, I didn't. I had plenty of money personally, but no girlfriend. Therefore, I didn't have the vaguest idea what the upkeep on one would be.

"Well, I'd say it's a n.o.ble cause you have there . . .

wanting to build something to leave for your kids."

At that he laughed, flas.h.i.+ng those teeth again.

"Don't try to make me sound too good," he said. "I won't kid you. I'd like a few of the nicer things in life myself . . . like staying at fancy hotels and driving around in cabs. I'd use up some of the profits before I pa.s.sed them on to my kids."

I was suddenly aware of the differences in our economic standing . . . that what he was dreaming about I tended to take for granted. The awareness made me uncomfortable.

"Yeah . . . well, I've got to be going now. Oh! What was it, anyway?"

89.

"What was what?"

"The name your parents gave you."

"It wasn't that hot, really," he said, making a face. "My friends just call me J. R."

With that, I beat a hasty retreat to my waiting cab.

"What was that all about?" Edvik said as I sank back into my seat.

"Oh, I was just curious about what made the street ven- dors tick."

"Them? Why bother? They're just a bunch of low-life hustlers scrabbling for small change. They're never going to get anywhere."

I was surprised at the sudden vehemence in his voice.

There was clearly no love lost there.

It occurred to me that Edvik's appraisal of the street vendors pretty much summed up my initial reaction to his own enterprising efforts with his cab and self-publis.h.i.+ng company.

It also occurred to me, as I reflected on my conversation with J. R., that I had been even more lucky than I had realized when I had taken to studying magik . . . first with Garkin and then with Aahz. It didn't take the wildest stretch- ing of the imagination to picture myself in the street vendor's place... a.s.suming I had that much initiative to begin with.

All in all, it wasn't a particularly comforting thought.

Chapter Ten:.

''All financiers are not created equal!"

-R.CORMAN "So WHERE ARE we off to today, Mr. Skeeve?"