Myth-Chief

THIRTY-TWO

I felt pretty miserable after Aahz confronted me in the office. I could put up with his bombast and his ridicule, but not false accusations. He wasn't playing fair! It really hurt that the others seemed to believe him more than they did me, I wasn't used to that.

Maybe I really should go back to the inn in Klah when Hermalaya was back on her throne. It was lonely, but I wouldn't have to worry about being lied to by anybody but merchants. I could trust Gleep and Buttercup to be my true friends while I figured out exactly what I was going to do with the rest of my life. Bunny could stay in Deva, or go wherever she wanted to. She was a much more social person than I was. She didn't need to share my exile one more time. I was grateful for all the time she had devoted to keeping me sane.

In the meantime, what Hermalaya needed far outstripped my need to lick my wounds. As soon as I could, I started making the rounds again of the people who had turned me down for an interview when the Aahz-inspired Cake knockoffs started coming out.

I was getting used to doors being slammed in my face, so much so that when Elliora, a Leprechaun financier from Ayer, said yes, I almost walked out anyhow. She dropped a loop of magik around me and hauled me back to her desk She was a plumpish female about half my height with an upturned nose, tilted green eyes, and shining silver hair pulled back in a long braid. Freckles were scattered across her nose. The gold that the Leprechauns were so famous for was evident in her parlor. Bureau knobs, inkwells, even picture frames were made of solid gold.

"Are you talking about Hermalaya of Foxe-Swampburg, then?" she asked me.

"Yes," I said.

"They're nice people," she said firmly. "I've done a lot of business with them over the years. I'd love to bear what has been happening to her. Go ahead and let me see her diary. Sit down. Would you like a whisky?"

Ayerish whisky was the best in the dimensions. I accepted a "wee, small" portion that filled a glass large enough to drown in, and opened up my scroll.

By the end of the tale, Elliora was weeping into her own whisky. I waited until she had dried her tears with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief.

"Well, if there is a thing in this world that I can do for her, you have but to ask mc. Go on, then, ask!"

I launched into my speech about helping her to restore the kingdom to its former prosperity, and how although her people loved her, she had no real means of pulling the place out of debt or advertising to the rest of the dimensions that Foxe-Swampburg was once again open for business.

"And you want to force this nasty, rotten prime minister out of the picture by overwhelming him with debt that can only be satisfied by restoring the rightful princess to the throne?" Her green eyes twinkled. "You're a wicked, awful boy. What else'?"

I pressed on, encouraged that when I mentioned further loans or grants, she nodded enthusiastically. When I got to the part about offering a Cake ceremony in exchange for Elliora's consideration, she bounded out of her chair and danced around the room.

"What a wonderful idea it is!" she declared. "That's a fine exchange for my time."

"Great''' I said. "So can I tell Hermalaya you want to meet her?"

"Oh, yes, and do all the fancy bibs and bobs that she does with her Cake. I've heard a lot about that in the past weeks—as you know." The eyes twinkled again. I had to shake myself not to fall into the

Leprechaun's spell. "There's only one thing I would ask you in return, my lovely lad. I want to have my Cake ceremony done in the castle. In the throne room, if you don't mind. I've lent a lot of money to the royal house of Foxe-Swampburg over the last few years, but I've never been there. I want to see the place. I've heard it's a fine old building. It would please my sense of humor if the throne itself could be included in the ritual of Musical Chairs, but I'll live without that if the princess balks, of course."

I gulped "Uh, did you hear the part where she was condemned to death, and going back would mean her life is forfeit?"

Elliora frowned at me. I could see the steel that had allowed her to become a powerhouse even among other financial advisors in Aver, "And did I hear the part from you that with my help you can get the vile usurper out of the castle and her back in her rightful place?" She stood up "When you can do what I want, then we'll do what you want How about that tor an idea?"

I couldn't argue with that. "We would have to sneak in. but I bet I can figure out some way,'' I said. "Let me check with Hermalaya."

"Good lad," she said, clapping her hands. "I'll wait to hear from you."

I hopped back to Possiltum, elated and worried at the same time. Elliora and I discussed how much paper she held on Foxe-Swampburg. Some of it had been incurred since Matfany had taken over. I had a list of the sums involved, and they were astronomical.

"We really have him now," I finished, gleefully.

"Attaboy, Skeeve," Massha cheered. "I knew Aahz couldn't keep us down forever. That Matfany is as good as exiled."

"Hear, hear," Chumley added, holding his cup of tea on high.

"Likewise," said Nunzio. Hermalaya sighed.

"It's okay," I said to her. "Once we get the visitors coming back, you won't need him anymore. You can find a better prime minister."

"I guess so," Hermalaya said, but she looked unhappy with the prospect. I was puzzled.

I looked at her. The Swamp Vixen princess kept her gaze down, playing over and over with her Cake server. "What's the matter?"

She lifted large, woeful eyes to me.

"Well, Mister Skeeve, I appreciate everything that you have been doing. It just seems as if in order to make me sound more vulnerable to our kindly patrons, you are well and truly blackening Matfany's name. You make him sound like he is a terrible man, and he's not! I really do like him."

"You do?" I asked, surprised. "After all that he did to you?"

"I do," she replied.

"How much?" Massha asked, immediately.

"Well, you know, he's honest, and hardworking, and even a little funny, and he's generous when he isn't being so worried. He's ... well, he's the kind of guy I might have wanted to marry one day." She gave a fetching little sigh.

"He's the kind of guy, or he IS the guy?" Massha asked, bobbing over to her on the air. Hermalaya dropped her eyes modestly.

"He is."

"Well, well, well," Massha said, beaming. "Can commoners marry royalty in your country, honey?"

"There are some precedents. About three generations back my great-grandfather married a seamstress who beguiled him. He became the best-dressed monarch in all Foxe-Swampburg history. And there was a great-aunt about nine generations ago, too."

"Sounds like you've been looking into it."

Hermalaya's little white nose turned pink. "Just out of curiosity, Miss Massha, nothing else."

"It's good to know, though, just in case?"

I was shocked. "How can you even THINK of fraternizing with the enemy!"

"Matfany's not the enemy ..." Hermalaya began. "Well. I guess maybe he is, but he isn't really."

"Matfany is the one who threw you off the throne, Miss Hermalaya," Nunzio said.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "But he's not a bad guy, honest. But he doesn't know any of what I just told you, so don't you go telling him!"

"You have my promise," I said.

"Us, too," Massha said. She squeezed Hermalaya's hand. The two of them giggled. I was disgusted. It was completely illogical for her to feel that way.

"But that isn't our problem right now," I said. "At the moment we have to work out how to have a Cake ceremony in your castle without getting caught."