Something M.Y.T.H. Inc.

THIRTEEN

"No trouble at all, old boy. Glad to help. Could use a change of scenery, really."

This is Chumley talkin'. I came to see him as soon as I rolled out in the morning to ask him about bein' backup muscle for Pookie and Spyder. As a Troll, he is probably the strongest, toughest member of our team, next to Nun-zio and me, even if he does talk funny when he isn't workin'.

"The Boss was sayin' that Pookie could take care of your appearance with her disguise spell," I sez.

"Actually, that won't be a problem," he sez. "Little sister left me a gizmo that should handle things. Where did I put that?"

He rummages around in a drawer and comes up with a device I recognize. I had seen his sister, Tananda, use it when we worked together briefly on our last assignment.

It looks like one of those mirror-compact rigs that the dolls use, except this one has a couple dials that, if you knew how to manipulate them, could change your appearance just like a disguise spell. That much I know. How to use the thing I haven't a clue.

"So, you're all set?" I sez. "When do you figure you can get started?"

"Oh, there are a couple things I've got to finish up first, then I'll be ready," he sez. "It would also probably be discreet to wait until I heard officially from Skeeve before embarking. Don't you think?"

This takes me a bit aback.

He's right, of course. Usually team assignments are handed out by the Boss. The trouble is that havin' rigged things to investigate the so-called rebellion without clearin' it with the Boss, plus pretty much captainin' the team while we were in the field, has gotten me in the habit of independent action. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, in the Mob such habits of independence are not necessarily conducive to one's continued health.

"Of course," I sez, not lettin' on that I overlooked that loop. "I guess I'm just kinda anxious to get things rollin' so's Pookie won't have to operate too long alone."

"From what I've seen of Pookie," Chumley sez, "she seems quite capable of taking care of herself... and several others, besides."

I am glad Chumley has not asked for details about my wounded arm. Even though she asked me to do it, I am not really comfortable attributin' Spyder's error to Pookie.

"Well, I'm off to see Massha," I sez.

"Tell her 'Hi' for me," he sez. "I may not get a chance to stop and see her before I go. Besides, frankly, I find all her preparations for the wedding to be a little unnerving."

"You know," I sez, shakin' my head, "I still can't believe that neither the Boss nor Aahz said anything to me about Masshagettin' married. I saw both of 'em when I got in last night, and neither of them even mentioned it."

"They both seem to have a lot on their minds these days," Chumley sez. "Besides, Massha seems to be taking care of the arrangements herself, so they haven't really been that involved ... so far."

As I make my way to Massha's room, however, it occurs to me that this is yet another example of how the way the Boss does things differs so radical-like from other Mob operations. In the regular Mob, a marriage is a major event. Comin' in second only to the attention they give funerals.

"You just sit right there, Guido, honey. Massha has just the thing to fix up that arm of yours ... if I can just lay my hands on it."

"Will it hurt?" I sez, a little nervous. I have never tried magical healin' before, and am uncertain as to what it involves.

"A little more than amputation, but you'll still have your arm," she sez, distracted.

"Are you kiddin' me?" I sez, lookin' toward the door.

"Of course I'm kidding you," she sez, laughin'. "Don't be such a baby. Honestly. Men. Always so ready to get into a fight, and such little boys when it comes to healing up afterward. Really, you won't feel a thing. Ah! Here we are!"

She comes up with a tube of something from which she then proceeds to squeeze a glob of creamy goo over my wound. It glows and sparkles for a moment, then seems to soak right into the skin, leavin' no trace behind. I'll have to admit, she is correct. Not only does it not hurt, it feels sort of cool and soothing.

"There we are," she sez. "The muscle will probably be a bit sore for a while, so you might want to leave the sling on. It should be good as new by tomorrow."

"Thanks, Massha," I sez, flexing my arm cautiously.

Frankly, I am amazed. Not by the healin', though I'll admit it was pretty impressive, but by the fact she could find it at all.

Chumley told me that Massha has changed quarters, but he always did have a gift for understatement. Her new room is roughly the size of a small warehouse, makin' it roughly three times the size of either of the rooms Nunzio and I have. Even with the extra acreage, however, it is crammed to the walls.

There are bolts of cloth and drawin's piled everywhere. Shoes and fabric samples and jewelry are scattered about in seemingly careless abandon, and there is not one but four full-sized sewin' dummies lined up in the center of the room. Realizin' that Massha is of the extra-extra-extra-extra-enormous size, this gives the feelin' that I am suddenly facin' the front line of a heavy contact-sport team after I have shrunk considerably.

The fact that she could find a small tube of goo in the middle of this chaos is nothin' short of miraculous.

I also find myself revisin' my earlier thoughts about this wedding not bein' a big deal. Judgin' from what Massha has goin', this event promises to make the biggest shindig the Mob has thrown look like a Tupperware party.

"By the way, Massha," I sez, "I guess congratulations or best wishes or whatever are in order. The General is a lucky man."

I mean this sincerely. After gettin' over the initial shock and thinkin' it over carefully, I have concluded that Massha is a real catch ... ignorin' the possible parallels to big-game trophies. While it is true that she is large to the point of bein' intimidatin', especially takin' into account her taste in clothes and jewelry which run to extreme of loud and flashy, the fact remains that the biggest thing about her is her heart. Underneath her brash and pushy exterior, Massha is perhaps the kindest, gentlest soul it has ever been my privilege to meet. General Badaxe could do a lot worse in pickin' a life partner.

"Thanks, Guido," she sez, startin' to tear up a little. "I still have trouble believing that it's really happening. I never thought... I mean, with the way I look ..."

She breaks off and blows her nose loudly, a sight which I will spare you the description of, bein' both a merciful and weak-stomached individual.

"So, how are the wedding plans coming?" I sez, tryin' to lighten the mood. "How are the pompous and circumstantials goin'?"

"It's utter madness," she sez, regainin' her composure. "Still, things are staggering along. The Queen has been a big help."

"The Queen? You mean Queen Hemlock?"

Things are suddenly adding up a bit. Massha is not only one of the M.Y.T.H. Inc. crew, she is also the Boss's apprentice... and Queen Hemlock has designs on the Boss. Of course she'll spare no expense in helpin' set up this wedding.

"That's right. She really has been a dear. To be honest, I think she's hoping our little ceremony will be a dress rehearsal for her own wedding."

"That was occurrin' to me as well," I sez. "What are your thoughts on that, Massha?"

"Frankly, I have some serious doubts about the whole thing," she sez. "I mean, marriage seems so right for Hugh and me. It's something we both really want, so it's going to happen whatever we have to wade through to get there. It seems to me that the only reason Skeeve is considering marrying Queen Hemlock is that he feels he has to. To me, that's a lousy basis for a marriage."

Some women get a little crazy on the subject of marriage, especially when they're in the process themselves, thinkin' how it's the best thing in the world for everyone. I am glad to hear that Massha is not of the ilk.

"Sounds like good thinkin' to me," I sez. "Oh well. I better be movin' along now. You've got lots to do, and I still haven't checked in with Nunzio yet. Thanks again for the healin'!"

While it has been good to get back and see the various members of our team, I will admit it is a particular relief when I finally get a chance to sit down alone with Nunzio. What with him bein' my cousin, we have known each other since before Don Bruce assigned us to the Boss, and before that, even before we joined the Mob in the first place. If there is anyone I can speak my mind to without first havin' to think things through, it's Nunzio. What's more, because we know each other so well, we also know when to ask each other embarrassin' questions and when to maintain a tactful silence.

Case in point: when I first come into his room, he cocks an eyebrow at my arm in a sling and sez "Rough opposition?" to which I reply "Nothin' we couldn't handle." Beyond that, he has not pressed for details. That's the way it is with us. One of us will express curiosity, and if the other does not volunteer particulars, we simply let it drop.

I have given him a sketchy account of our mission, and he has supplied a brief update on the news and gossip in the palace.

"So, how's the Boss holdin' up through all this?" I sez.

Instead of answerin', Nunzio rubs his chin like he always does when he's thinkin' hard, then shakes his head.

"I dunno, Guido," he sez. 'To be honest with you, he's been kinda weird."

Now, I know that the Boss has been under a lot of pressure what with tryin' to get the kingdom's finances squared away and havin' the Queen proposin' marriage to him, but we've seen him under pressure before. 'Weird' is not usually a word that Nunzio uses to describe the actions of a superior in the chain of command.

"Could you give me a 'for example' on that, cuz?" I sez.

"Well, you know how I've been workin' with Gleep, the Boss's dragon, to try to figure out why he's been attacking people?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the Boss has it in his head that Gleep is intelligent."

"So what?" I sez. "The Boss has always had a soft spot for the little dragon. He's said all along that Gleep is a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for."

"Not smart," Nunzio sez. "Intelligent. It's not that he's smart about learning tricks or recognizing people. The Boss thinks that Gleep may actually be intelligent, as in planning and scheming. He thinks that Gleep may be attacking people on purpose and trying to make it look like accidents."

I have to admit that is a crazy thought, though even considerin' it as a possibility is scary. But Nunzio isn't finished.

"And another thing," he sez, "the other day, the Boss asked me my opinion. Not on rough-and-tumble stuff, mind you. He wanted to know what I thought about his personal habits."

"He did what?" I sez, blinkin' with surprise.

Now, this is truly unheard of. When one is workin' as a Mob bodyguard, one observes and adapts to the habits of the body one is guardin' in order to be effective. Com-mentin' on those habits is not only unnecessary, it is ill-advised. Bein' asked to comment on those habits, particularly by the body itself, is inconceivable. It would be like askin' your armor if it thought you had smelly armpits.

"What? You think I'd make something like this up?" Nunzio sez, a little hurt. "I'm telling you the Boss made a point of asking me if I thought he drank too much. What's more, when I tried to hem and haw my way out of answering, he kept pushing and insisting that I give him an honest answer."

"Well, is he? Drinkin' too much, I mean," I sez.

"I really never thought about it," Nunzio sez. "I mean, sure he drinks. And he's been drinking more since he and Aahz got back from Perv. But how much is too much? Know what I mean? And why should he ask me?"

"Yeah," I sez. "Weird."

We are both ponderin' this in silence when there is a knock on the door and Aahz pokes his head into the room.

"Good," he sez. "I caught you both here. It's payday, boys. Thought I'd bring yours up since I was headed this way."

With that, he tosses us each a small sack of gold. I say 'small' in that it isn't one of the big bags like the tax collectors use. More like the size of my fist. Realizin', however, the size of my fist, the amount of gold bein' given us is far from paltry.

I glance over at Nunzio, and see that he is as surprised as I am.

"Ummm... Did we get a raise or something that I missed hearin' about?" I sez, heftin' the sack in my hand.

"Extra pay for the whole crew for helping out the kingdom," Aahz sez with a wink. "Bunny negotiated it."

"Nice," Nunzio sez, his eyebrows still up.

"Yeah. Well, thanks Aahz," I sez.

"No trouble," he sez. "By the way, I wouldn't want to try to tell you your business as bodyguards, but you might want to wander down to Grimble's."

"What's up?"

"I just sent Skeeve down there to pick up his pay, and believe me, it's more than ours put together. That's an awful lot of gold for him to be carrying around unescorted."