Myth-Taken Identity

SIX

Parvattani, now in an embroidered blue tunic and breeches and a pair of black tights, came running up to us as we left the executive offices. He scrambled to a halt, all out of breath, and threw me a vigorous salute. „,

"Ready to go, sir! I mean, Mr. Aahz. I mean, Aahz—" He swallowed.

"Take it easy, kid," I said, raising an eyebrow.

Boy, he was young! I couldn't remember ever having that much nervous energy.

"And stop doing that! We'll never be able to observe anybody secretly if you keep saluting."

"Yes sir!" Parvattani acknowledged, hammering his forehead with another straight-handed blow. "Whatever you say, sir!"

"Cut it out!" I snarled. "We have to figure out where to get started."

A voice piped up from behind us.

"I know where to start."

We all spun around. Trotting in our wake was the little blond female with the black gumdrop-shaped nose in the white fur coat whom I had seen sneaking out of The Volcano and who had confronted Moa on our way out of the alley.

"Go getta lost," Parvattani snapped.

She met my eyes, ignoring the fulminating guard.

"I hope you have more sense than this toy soldier here. I know what you're looking for."

Par took my arm and turned me back in the direction we were heading.

"Pay no attention to her, sir—Aahz. We'll go and-a interview the shopkeepers who actually waited on the person masquerading as your friend. Perhaps one of them heard-a him—or her, we can't disregard that possibility, since we are dealing with shapeshifters—speaking with a confederate-a—or make any reference to who is behind the theft of identity."

The voice interrupted, more insistently.

"I know who is behind it, too."

Par's face became more set, but he kept marching forward.

"Now that we have a particular face we're looking for, we can inquire as to how many fraudulent purchases he or she made and see if we can distinguish a pattern. We should concentrate our efforts on the shops where the false 'Skeeve' repeated the most often."

"That won't help," the little female scoffed.

I shook off Parvattani's arm to confront her.

"What do you know that we don't?"

The little female's jaw dropped.

"You're actually willing to listen?"

"Try me. If you're trying to sell me a load of clams, I can ignore it after I hear it."

The guard looked surprised, then insulted.

"Sir, pay no attention to her. She's mad. She keeps insisting that there is a vast secret conspiracy intending to undermine The Mall."

"No, I don't," the female said. "I keep telling you the truth, and you pretend I don't know what I'm talking about." "You two argue like you've been married twenty years," I said, drily. "Before we go any farther is there something going on that I ought to know about?"

"Eyugh!" Par and the female chimed in chorus, exchanging looks of mutual dislike, but they shut up.

"Good. What's your name?" I asked the nonbride.

"Eskina." she replied, looking sullen.

"This is Massha and Chumley. I'm Aahz." She nodded to us gravely. "Let's go somewhere you can talk and I can listen. Preferably with a beer in my hand. That suit you?" I asked my companions.

"Beer good."

"Fine by me, High Roller," Massha added.

Parvattani bowed to us and began striding up the long corridor, threading his way in between crowds of people like an old pro. Massha floated beside the diminutive Eskina.

"Where'd you get the fur coat?" Massha asked, with a fashion-hunter's gleam in her eye.

Eskina glared. "I grew it," she snapped. "I'm a raterrier from Ratislava, a sworn officer in the Pole-Cat Investigation Department and the Ferret-Prevention Department."

"Oh," Massha said in a small voice. "Sorry. I'm from Jahk. I've never been to Ratislava. Your coat is very pretty."

"Sorry," Eskina said, with a toss of her fair head. "I am perhaps a little touchy. It is so long since I have been treated with any respect."

She treated Parvattani to another fierce look.

After one more glance of distrust toward the little female, Parvattani took over as tour guide. Eskina didn't utter another syllable the entire way to the hotel bar to which Par led us, the mere fact leading me to believe she was something unusual. Most females would have yakked their heads off, trying to make their case. The comer of the Mystikal Bar at the hotel seemed quiet enough. The intimate lighting seemed to make people automatically lower their voices. No one sat within two tables' radius. I settled into the corner seat of the burgundy velvet-covered, deeply upholstered banquette.

"It's a far cry from the Yellow Crescent Inn," I said, "but it'll have to do."

"Oh, Aahz," Massha chided me. "It's a classy place. Wait a minute, let me make sure we're alone." She took the cone of silence off her wrist and waved a hand over it until the purple glow extended outward to surround the entire table. "That ought to do it."

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.

"Cut him off," I said. "If the key to draining someone is by impersonating him, then the impersonator can't be allowed to make any more purchases in Skeeve's name."

"I'll put out an all-points bulletin at once," Par said, reaching into his pocket. His hand came up empty, and his cheeks turned a bright shade of green. "My globe's in my uniform. I'll have to go back to my quarters for it."

"Make it snappy," Massha urged him.

"But what about you? I am supposed to show you around."

"I can guide them," Eskina suggested.

When Parvattani made a face, she made one back.

"What do you think? I have been here for a long time looking for Rattila. I know this place as well as you do— better, maybe! Come on," she urged us. "He can find us later."